Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Makina Aguni thought of the possible end of the world, this is close to what she imagined. The lonely overgrown cityscape stretching out before her, with her brother at her side and his best friend at his. 

It could be worse, she decides, she could be alone. 

The trio step out onto the dark street, all breathing a little heavy after the game they’d just finished. Behind them, the lights blink out and they’re cast into the shadow of the wine-dark night. Maki hunches over, her hands planting on her thighs as she heaves in a deep breath. The wind that blows against her side is barely cool and makes her overshirt cling to her sweaty skin; even in the night, the temperature hasn’t cooled off much. 

It’s been just over a week since they’d ended up in this empty version of Tokyo and it’s been just as hot every day since the first. Even that day had been strangely warm, such an exceptionally hot summer day that it might as well have already been August instead of mid-July. 

Puffing a sigh, Maki straightens back up and shakes the tension out of her arms. She nudges her glasses back up her nose as she looks around down the dark empty streets. The desolate, wild-grown city has become a new kind of familiar. Still, though, the silence is eerie and discomforting. No city the size of Tokyo should be so quiet, it’s unsettling. When the games aren’t being played, other people are few and far between, which makes the silence stretch on even further. 

How many people are trapped here like them, she wonders to herself, did any of them know what was going on or are they all as confused as she is? Was there supposed to be some point to this - this empty city and these weird nightly death games? And if so, why were they chosen? 

“Maki - your card, can I have it?” Danma asks, breaking her from her thoughts. Maki frowns and pulls the card from her pocket, thumbing at the pointed corner of it as she looks down at the printed spade suit on it. 

“Yeah, but why? It’s just a dumb playing card,” she says, her voice low and soft in its usual monotone. Stretching her arm out past her brother, Morizono, she holds the card out to him. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” he replies, plucking it from her hand. 

Mouth downturning in a frown, she’s about to snap a sarcastic retort about manners and snatching when Morizono steps further between them. His hand touches briefly to Maki’s wrist. 

“Let’s go see if we can find something to eat,” he says. 

Maki puffs a breath and knuckles against her annoyance-scrunched nose. 

There’s streets upon streets upon streets of empty unlocked stores, so it’s not hard to find one to search through for a makeshift dinner. Danma leads on ahead into a shop, Morizono following behind then Maki behind him. Armed with small flashlights, they trek through aisles. They’re not quite empty, but there’s a thin layer of dust covering everything, as if the world had simply ended years ago and not the reality of nearly everyone having disappeared - rather unsimply - in Tokyo eight days earlier. Some of the food that had clearly once been fresh was now rotted through, black and mouldy, making Maki scrunch her nose in disgust and lean away. 

Plucking a strawberry caplico cone off the shelf, she shoves it into her pocket. The guilt of taking as she wants is starting to wane, which she also feels half-bad about. Turning out of the aisle, she slips into the next one to stand by her brother and stare at the shelf. Nudging her glasses up, she looks over the row of instant meal bowls and cups. 

It’s not as if any of it is an uncommon meal for Maki. Even back before this had all gone down, she’d typically find herself microwaving food or making up instant noodles for dinners, frequently too lazy or too distracted to go out and buy something or even cook for herself. 

Luckily, she had her brother. Morizono always seemed to know exactly when she’d spent too many days eating crummy food and would show up with something freshly cooked for her, oden from the restaurant she liked or onigiri that he’d grill while scolding her terrible eating habits. Danma would always follow in after him and the three would pile around the small table, eating their fill and talking late into the night. Somehow, despite always falling asleep in the living room to the sounds of their voices, she’d wake up in her bed in the morning. 

She misses it, she realises. The peace of it all. There’s no peace here, not really. Maki can’t help but feel tense, like she’s waiting for another shoe to drop. There’s death around every corner; in the games of course, but she’d also seen people dead on the streets, their skulls run all the way through with singular singed holes. These ‘visas’, she didn’t quite understand them but it seemed the best idea to have a lot of them. 

Reaching out, she grabs a curry cup noodle and turns it in her hand. The packaging didn’t seem broken at least, but there’s no telling how old it is, not with how time seemed to work strangely here. 

“Might as well grab a couple, you need to keep your strength up,” Morizono says. She rolls her eyes at the tone of his voice. Still, she picks up another cup noodle. Seafood, this time. 

“Is your shoulder okay?” she asks casually, looking over the shelf before picking something that’s a tad too spicy for her tastes and holding it out towards him, “I saw you hit the wall pretty hard during the game.” 

He takes the plastic-wrapped noodle bowl, huffing quietly, “Barely felt it.” 

Danma chooses then to walk into the aisle, bottles of water lined up and tucked under both his arms. Morizono’s attention is easily pulled to him and the two slip into a casual banter, Danma complains about flavour options on the shelf and Morizono smiles in the way that only Danma can make him. It kindles something close to familial jealousy in Maki’s chest. 

She and Danma have never gotten along as well as Morizono had hoped, neither are satisfied to share him nor content with the possibility of being ‘second best’ in his eyes. Eventually, over the years, they’d meandered into a kind of mutual tolerance, somewhat understanding that they weren’t going to be able to get rid of the other. Maki’s the only true family Morizono has left, and Danma is his best and closest friend. 

“I’ll grab some bags,” Maki says, her mouth thinning in a line. 

She turns quickly on her heel to head towards the front counter. Briefly, her eyes turn towards the powerless fridges lining the wall, wondering if there’s any chance of alcohol still being stocked there. But even having just the one, to try and forcibly settle her tense nerves, she knows she’d have to face her brother’s silent disapproval. 

Shaking off the thought, she continues on, hopping up and over the counter to dig under the desk for a couple bags. She tosses her choice of cup noodles into one of the bags, then props a hand on the counter to hoist herself back over it before pausing. There’s something sticking out from under the desk by the register and she carefully pries it out. A notepad, a little weathered with the corners of the pages yellowed and curling. 

Setting it on the counter, she flips it open and aims her flashlight at it. A small smile grows on her face at what she finds. The pages are filled with words, two different handwritings. It’s a written testament of growing affection, something that blooms from a tiny bud into a blossom with every page that she turns. She flips through the yellowed book as she reads, it’s filled with an innocent kind of intimacy that makes her jealous of easy teenage romance. With the sound of approaching footsteps, she flicks the notepad closed and shoves it back into its place below the countertop. 

Hopping up, she swings her legs over to the other side of the counter and sits while holding one of the bags open, waiting for the two men to dump their dinner choices into it. 

“I just don’t know why we have to camp. There’s hundreds of empty houses and apartments, we could just break into one,” Maki complains, sighing. She leans her hands back on the grass, the small fire she’d been building finally taking light. Orange flames slowly crackle up the pile of sticks, brightening the darkness that surrounds the trio. 

“As if you’d be comfortable sleeping in some stranger’s bed,” Morizono replies as he sits down beside his sister, the tents finally set up behind them. 

“I’d be happy just to have a real bed right now. Danma, you agree with me, right?” No reply. “Danma?” 

“Hmm?” It’s a noncommittal sound, he’s clearly not listening. Sitting on the other side of the small fire, Danma holds three four-card decks of playing cards in his hand, looking at them with a sharp focus. 

“Are you still looking at those cards?” 

“They’re interesting, don’t you think?” 

“I think they’re playing cards,” she deadpans. 

Morizono loudly hangs a pan of water over the fire before the two can dissolve into an argument. It had been happening more lately, ever since they had ended up in this world. The stress has whet the edge of their usual irritation with each other, leaving Morizono to try and keep the peace however he could. Cutting their bickering off at the root was always the best course of action, he’d found. 

Both fall quiet as the water starts to bubble. Danma goes back to looking at the cards, leaning a little closer to the fire for better lighting, and Maki drops back against the grass, staring up at the sky. She tucks a hand under her head to cushion it. The sky is deep blue and filled with a twinkling spray of stars, even the moon seemed to shine brighter than usual. It’s just due to the lack of city lights, she’s sure, but it’s still beautiful. She’s never seen the sky look like this before, all her life she’s lived with nighttime street lighting. Now, the specks of stars seem to go on forever. 

Her eyes close and she just listens. There’s no city sounds either; no cars, no people, no trains. Somewhere off on the trees, she can hear an owl calling and wonders what species it is. More animals seemed to be coming back into the city, unafraid now without the throngs of people. 

The thin end of a pair of chopsticks prod into Maki’s side and she opens her eyes, turning her head to look towards her brother. He holds the chopsticks and her cup noodles out to her, waiting for her to take them. Sitting up, she bobs her head in a small thanking nod, taking the makeshift dinner. 

They eat in peaceful silence. Danma has, thankfully, tucked the cards away out of Maki’s view. Eventually, after discarding her rubbish away into one of the bags, exhaustion hits her and she finally realises how tired she is. She yawns against her knuckles. 

“Go get some sleep,” Morizono says, bumping her shoulder. 

She nods sleepily, humming a quiet acknowledging response. Rolling up onto her feet, she grabs a water bottle and her flashlight, then lifts her hand in a small ‘goodnight’ wave to the guys as she heads off to her tent. 

They’d managed to find, and later set up, two tents. A larger one that Danma and Morizono had agreed to share and a smaller one for Maki. There had been no chance in hell that Maki would willingly share with Danma. She and Morizono had shared beds before, but the two men were comfortable in close quarters, so she was given her privacy. 

Clicking the flashlight on, she sets it on the floor of the tent by her sleeping bag. She kicks her shoes off, plucking them up to throw them in the corner of the tent, and kneels on her sleeping bag as she zips the tent flap shut. Sighing quietly, she takes her glasses off, setting them beside the flashlight before rubbing her face. Her shoulders slump a little under an exhausted weight. These games are beginning to take their toll on her.  

Just how long were they going to be stuck here? How many games were they going to have to play? They’d played four already and there didn’t seem to be any end in sight. 

She shrugs her button-up off, folding it in half and laying it down beside her sleeping bag. Sitting on her heels, she twists the lid off the water bottle and takes a long swig. It’s lukewarm, but still refreshing. Twisting the lid back on the water bottle, she’s stands it to the side with her overshirt before wriggling into her sleeping bag and curling onto her side. Another wide yawn makes her jaw click. 

As she drifts off, she can still hear the low murmur of her brother and Danma talking around the fire, and the calling hoots of the owl in the far-off tree. 

With the games happening in the night, Morizono relents to letting Maki and Danma sleep in late in the mornings. He’s an early riser himself and that hasn’t changed despite the situation they were in. Danma is still dozing as he quietly creeps out of the tent, his low snoring halting only for a moment as he readjusts in his sleeping bag. Considering these games, it seems necessary to keep up with his routine. Without a proper gym, he’d have to do what he could with morning runs. 

He pauses at the side of Maki’s tent, crouching to quietly unzip the flap a few inches before peering inside. Maki is tucked on her side, her head laid on her palm and her dark lashes long where they rested on her speckled-egg cheeks. Her mouth is parted around quiet, steady breaths. She doesn’t so much as shift or squirm in her sleep. He sighs, thankful to see she’s not having nightmares. After the week they’d had, he’s worried how it’s been affecting her. He knows she wants to show a strong face, but he also knows her better than anybody. The inability to understand what was going on here, it’s clear to him that it scares her. 

Zipping the tent flap closed, he stands and walks quietly away, setting off on a steady lap of the empty city. He lets his mind empty, focusing only on moving forward, the falling steps of his feet, and keeping his breaths even. 

By the time he gets back, both Maki and Danma are awake, though neither are speaking to each other. Danma is poking at the ashes from last night’s fire with a long stick, yawning as he sways lazily on his feet. Maki is sat on the ground just outside of her tent, her arms hanging over her bent knees and her head drooping, her dark hair in a sheet around her face. 

He drags in a few breaths as he approaches, coming down from his run. 

“You okay, Maki?” he asks as he gets close. 

“I want okayu,” she complains quietly. He chuckles, patting a hand over her dark hair. She lifts her head, dragging her knees in closer to her chest, arms wrapping around them. “You went for a run again?” 

“You should come with me.” 

“Pass.”

Morizono walks past her, scooping up a water bottle to chug down half of it. Danma turns to look at him, twirling the stick in a wide arch. He plants the tip of it in the ground, leaning on it like a much older man. 

“Should we play another game tonight?” He asks. 

“We played one last night - and we have plenty of visas left for the time being,” Maki replies. As much as she knows they need them, she’s not exactly eager to get back into another game. 

“Don’t you want to find out more about this world? The games are the best place to find out information, or meet someone that might know something we don’t.” 

“Are you feeling extra lucky or something?” Her tone goes sharp. She looks to her brother, waiting for him to back her up, “Mori?” 

He looks between them, then sets an apologetic look towards her, “Danma’s right. We need more information, someone might know how we get back to our reality.” 

Maki frowns. 

“You can wait outside the game arena if you want,” he offers. 

“I’m not letting you go in without me. We’re a team.” And she’d never forgive herself if Morizono died in there when she could’ve helped. 

Night comes too quickly for Maki’s liking. Danma leads ahead down the streets, eagerly seeking out any signs of games. They walk through the sunset and into twilight, the darkness spreading and casting the shadows long as they find a wide stretch of nothing until finally Morizono catches sight of a lit-up sign and points it out. Their pace quickens, knowing time is ticking down and soon registration for all the games would be closing. Part of Maki wants to slow down, force them to sit out by missing the check-in deadline. It’d be safer to not play. 

The trio keep a hastened, jogging pace before slowing outside the arena. 

“A construction site?” Maki says, concern lining her features. “Doesn’t look like it’ll make for an easy game. Maybe we should look for another one.” 

“We lost time walking this far for this one. The rest of the games might already be started - or over - by the time we find another,” Danma argues back. He starts towards the entrance, “You can always sit this one out, Maki.” 

She huffs, glaring at him. At her side, Morizono squeezes her shoulder before following after Danma. Frowning, she tries to shake off her nerves, squaring her shoulders as she walks in through the open chain-link gate. She glances up the unfinished building as it stretches up towards the blue-black sky. Only the floors are completed, the rest is a skeleton of steel braces and incomplete walls, there’s rickety scaffolding bracketed against parts of the building’s sides that makes Maki’s stomach twist. 

Walking further in, her gaze turns around the small registration area. There’s five people already waiting, a mixed group of four on one side and a thin, slightly trembling woman standing by herself on the other. Between the groups, there’s an oddly clean table with three phones and three large, clunky bracelets. Stepping up to the table, Danma and Morizono go for the phones. Maki, instead, picks up one of the bracelets. It’s heavy and mechanical with clips that appeared to lock in on the wrist straps and a square-face screen. Glancing subtly towards the other players, she notices they’re all wearing a bracelet each. 

Morizono holds a phone out to her, waiting for her to take it before picking up a bracelet of his own and clipping it onto his wrist. Danma follows his lead. With concern still creasing her features, she looks down at the bracelet once more before registering on the phone and locking the bracelet onto her right wrist. It’s heavy and the metal is cool against her skin. 

A PA system rigged up around the construction site crackles to life with a jingle. In her periphery, she sees the woman jolt in surprise. 

“Five of Clubs. Game, City’s Playground,” a tinny robotic voice speaks. The screens on the bracelets light up. Maki, Morizono, Danma and the woman’s all shine blue. The other group of four’s bracelets glow red. The monotone voice continues, “Game complete when all surviving members of either team reach the top floor before the timer runs out. The building is rigged with explosives to be demolished if the timer reaches zero before the game’s completion. Time starts now.” 

There’s a beat of silence as the voice comes to a finish. A timer shows up on the bracelet screens, 45 minutes that starts quickly ticking down. Maki looks warily towards the other team in an attempt to size them up. There’s a long pause as they all let the rules of the game sink in. One of the men glances over his teammates, then pulls out a pocketknife and drives it into the throat of the closest one. 

Maki’s blood runs cold. Her brother inhales sharply at her side. 

“Go.” Morizono grabs her arm and shoves her in the direction of a staircase. He does the same to Danma and the woman, following behind as he hurries them along. “Go!” 

They scurry up the staircase. Danma hurries on ahead, taking the stairs two at a time. Maki tries to focus on her own breathing to ignore the sounds coming from downstairs. She hears an unmistakable sound of a scream that cuts off halfway through and flinches, clenching her hands into fists as she pushes herself to move faster up the stairs. The team get a handful of floors up before they finally slow to catch their breaths. Morizono stands between the three and the opening to the staircase, a broad living wall of a defence. 

“Why would he do that?” Danma asks, his voice thick with shock, his eyes blown wide as he looks back towards the stairs. 

With some distance now, it clicks for Maki. 

“The win condition,” she puffs out, “Only surviving members of the team need to reach the top floor. If he’s alone, then he doesn’t have to worry about a teammate falling behind and slowing him down.” 

“We should keep moving,” Morizono says. He’s barely even winded, Maki notices. 

The other three nod and start up the stairs again at a slower - though still swift - pace. Danma leads on ahead and Morizono stays at the rear of the group, frequently looking over his shoulder and straining his ears for the murderous other team member. Maki and the woman move along between the two men. She glances back towards the stranger, noticing how she glances around worriedly and stumbles every few steps. 

“What’s your name?” Maki asks as they turn up another floor. 

“Maeba Awaji,” the woman answers shakily through her panting. 

“I’m Aguni Makina,” she replies, “Behind you is my brother, Morizono, and up the front here is Danma Takeru.” Slowing slightly to let Maeba catch up to her, she tentatively reaches to touch her arm. “We’ll be fine if we keep moving.” 

Maeba nods, but doesn’t look convinced. So be it, Maki supposes, it’s not exactly easy to comfort someone in a situation like this anyway. Refocusing, she quickens her pace again. 

They reach the top of the staircase and slow on an open, empty floor; not even the interior walls had been completed yet. A cool breeze blows through the open sides of the building. Glancing around, Danma points out another staircase across the ‘room’. Maki looks out towards the rest of the city as they cross towards the stairs. 

Suddenly, a hand shoots up over the metal scaffolding. One of the members of the other teams, an apparent survivor, scrambles to pull himself up. He’s breathing roughly and there’s blood spilling from a cut in his side, his shirt shredding and stained. Clambering to his feet, he reaches a hand towards their group. Maki, Danma and Maeba all stumbles backwards, away from him, staring wide-eyed in surprise. Morizono steps defensively in front of them before the man can get any closer. 

“Help me,” he wheezes, “That guy - he’s gonna kill me.” 

Another hand, one gripping a pocketknife, reaches up and the killer heaves himself over the scaffolding. He lands heavily on his feet, making the metal scaffolding rattle dangerously. The knife glints in his hand, catching the dim strung-up lights. 

The first man screams as the killer approaches, “No! Plea-” 

Without so much as a pause, he stands over the man and drives the knife down into his chest. Maki can feel her heart pounding, her chest tightens with panic. The killer stands and turns his manic gaze towards them. His hand grips tighter around the pocketknife. 

“I’m not going to let anybody get in my way,” he snarls. 

He lunges towards them. Flashquick, Morizono jumps in between them, stopping the man in his tracks. He goes for the knife, shoving the man back away from them as he attempts to wrestle the blade away. 

“Mori!” Maki jolts towards him. 

He throws up an arm to stop her getting any closer. 

“Go! I’ll slow him down!” Before she can speak, he’s shouting again, “Go!” Then he’s twisting to throw a hard punch at the man. 

Danma reaches out to grab her arm, pushing Maeba on ahead and dragging Maki with him towards the staircase. Maki stumbles, her head still turned towards her brother as he fights the man. He’s weaponless, dodging and throwing punches where he can, cornering the killer away from the staircase up. Danma keeps pulling on her, his fingers digging into the muscle of her bicep, the fabric of her button-up’s sleeve bunching in his grip. 

They run another few floors up. Maki’s legs ache. She trips up some of the steps, but Danma keeps her upright as he drags her along, not letting her slow down for even a moment. She can’t hear the fight happening below anymore. Her stomach lurches with worry, making her want to turn back and see if her brother was okay. She had to believe he was. She didn’t know what she would do if he wasn’t. 

At the top of another staircase, Maeba suddenly rushes out onto the unfinished concrete floor. Danma finally releases Maki, moving to lean against the wall, holding a hand to his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Maki ignores him, instead looking towards Maeba. She’s trembling all over, chewing into her bottom lip, puffing rough breaths out through her nose. 

“I can’t do it - I can’t take this anymore!” She screams, shaking her head, her hands clawing in her hair. Maki takes a step closer to her. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, we just -” 

“No! You don’t get it! This is hell - this world - it’s hell!” She’s erratic, flailing. 

Maki moves to take another step, but Danma grabs her by the elbow before she can. She snaps to look back at him, then looks towards Maeba again. Her mouth open to say something, anything, to try and comfort her and get them moving ahead again. There’s tears on Maeba’s face, she turns this way and that, seeming to be looking for some kind of answer. Her gaze falls on the open side of the scaffolding. She takes a shaking breath. 

Maki’s stomach drops like a stone off a cliff. 

“Don’t-” 

Danma’s hand tightens on her arm. Whatever she was going to say doesn’t matter. With a wail, Maeba runs and hurls herself off the side of the unfinished floor. There’s a brief high scream, then the undeniable loud crack of a body hitting the ground below. 

Maki feels frozen in place, her eyes locked on the spot Maeba had leapt off. The bracelet on her wrist buzzes. There’s only 25 minutes left. Danma pulls on her arm but she can’t make her feet move. He moves, blocking her view of the empty spot and grabbing both her arms. 

“Makina,” he says seriously, “We need to move.” 

“Right,” she answers numbly. 

With a strain of effort, she swallows thickly and turns, forcing herself to walk back towards the stairs. Danma squeezes her shoulder, then hurries on ahead, leading the way for her again. 

They go up another two floors before Maki glances down to the timer on her wrist. Time is ticking down quickly and they still have too many floors to go up. She stops in the middle of a staircase. 

“This is pointless. We’re moving too slowly,” she pants, hunching over to catch her breath. Danma stops a few steps ahead of her, his hands on his hips as he turns back to look down at her, breathing just as hard as she is. 

“What do you have in mind then?” He huffs. 

“That guy had the right idea - it’s faster if we climb.” 

Danma laughs roughly, disbelieving, “Climb?” 

“The bracings. We can climb them and get up to the top floor in no time.” 

“Or we’ll fall to our deaths.” 

“Mori would agree, it’s the fastest option.” 

“You hate heights.” 

“If it’s heights or dying from losing this game, I’ll take heights.” She pushes past him, her pace quickening as she moves up the stairs, “Come on.” 

Walking across the floor towards the steel bracings, her stomach twists into knots. Cool wind blows against her face, tangling through her long hair. She breathes deeply, feeling the air chill into her chest. At the edge of the floor, she makes the stupid decision to glance down. It’s only for a moment, but she sucks in a hissed breath through her teeth. Her vision dizzies. She pushes her glasses up as they slip down her nose. 

Trying to shake the coiling serpentine fear off, she looks towards the bracings instead, telling herself it’s just like indoor rock climbing - just without the safety ropes or anybody to catch her if she slips. She squeezes her hands into fists, then relaxes them. 

Reaching out, she finds some handholds and starts to pull herself up. She glances up. They’re not that far from the top floor it seems, but still far enough that going up the stairs would take too long. Danma follows her lead, his height giving him more of an advantage, his reach longer. They scramble further and further upwards, climbing between the floors. 

Maki’s foot slips and she gasps, gripping so tightly to the metal bracing that her fingers ache. Danma pauses for a moment to glance down at her, but she just re-sets her foot and keeps moving, not sparing him a look. 

Up and up they go until finally Danma pushes himself onto the top floor. He turns to lean over the side, reaching down to help Maki up. She quickly clambers away from the edge, kneeling and dragging in air, flattening her aching hands on the cold concrete. Her hair falls in a long dark sheet around her face. It reflects an off-colour sheen of blue moonlight. 

She lifts her wrist, looking at the timer. Under 10 minutes were left. Scrambling back to the side, she nudges past Danma and grips the edge of the roof, closing her eyes tightly to not see the long distance to the ground as she leans over. 

“Mori!” she yells, then forces herself to be louder, her dry throat stinging under the force, “Morizono! If you can hear me, you need to climb the bracings!” 

Pushing away from the edge, she gets up, standing on shaky legs. Danma, panting, stands up with her and turns to look across the roof. There’s a marked off square in the middle with a sign reading ‘end zone’. The pair cast one more glance to the edge of the roof, then start walking towards the square. In the middle of the square, there’s a table with a small printing machine sitting on its top. 

For a moment, Maki pauses outside the marked line, worrying that when she stepped over it, the ending jingle might play. She takes a steeling breath. Her brother can’t be dead. He couldn’t be. By some divine force, she’d know if he was. She steps within the square. Nothing happens and she breathes out in relief. 

There’s nothing more they can do now but wait. 

Maki looks down to the timer, growing more and more tense. The numbers tick down to 7 minutes, then 5, then 3. She turns in slow circles, looking to all four sides of the building, hoping that Morizono had heard her yelling. Then she worries he’s been injured badly in the fight, that he couldn’t manage to climb at all. She gnaws the inner side of her bottom lip until she tastes the copper of blood. 

Danma paces back and forth, his face a visage of worry. He doesn’t still and it makes Maki dizzy, but she doesn’t have the energy to tell him to stop. The time ticking down feels like a physical weight, pressing on her body. She feels close to collapsing. 

Finally, an arm hooks onto the roof and she jolts up, straight-backed, straining her eyes in the dim light. Danma darts to her side. In her periphery, she sees him check the timer. 

“Mori! You’ve only got a minute!” He shouts as her brother pulls himself onto the roof. She sees Morizono hunch in exhausted frustration, then he hops to his feet and races across the roof, knocking into Danma as he crosses the marked line. 

As the congratulatory jingle peals out, Morizono pants roughly and leans on Danma, an arm thrown over his shoulder. Danma pats his back, the pair musing a quiet conversation - ‘cutting it close this time, Mori’ - and Maki tilts her head back as she swallows and draws in a shaky breath, her dark eyes slightly teary with relief.

Turning at a familiar sound, she looks back as the printer starts up. Danma’s visa and card, then Maki’s, then Morizono’s. She scoops up the paper visas one by one, looking down at them. Five more days had been added on to each. Picking up the cards, she taps them together and then holds the small set back to Danma. 

Morizono grunts quietly in pain as he shifts and Maki flits quickly to his side. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, frowning in concern. She finally notices the dark stain and the rip in his sleeve. “You’re bleeding!” 

“It’s just a scratch,” he says, catching her hand as she reaches out to try and check his injury. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Danma tucks the cards into the pocket of his pants, then steps closer to swing an arm around Morizono’s neck then leans himself against his non-bloody side. Morizono’s own hand finds his thin waist. Danma throws his head back with a groan, his long curls blown about by the breeze. 

“We’re going to have to go down all those stairs, aren’t we?” He complains. 

Just as the final word leaves his mouth, the lights begin to click off, the game now officially over. 

Chapter Text

The night continues as it had every night they’d been in this world. 

They hunt through empty shops for something to eat, Maki starts up a small campfire while Morizono puts up the tents, and Danma lazes aside, being as unhelpful as usual. He neatly stacks together the cards, ordering them numerically, aces of spades on the top and their most recent five of clubs on the bottom; in between were triple-sets of two of diamonds, three of spades, and four of clubs. Fifteen totally useless cards and two weeks worths of visa days. 

As the water rests to boil, Maki manages to convince Morizono to finally sit down by her and take his overshirt off so she can check the cut on his bicep. There’s a pinched frown on her face as she makes him angle his arm into the light from the fire. The cut, at least, is little more than a shallow flesh wound. It’s bled a decent amount, staining the sleeve of his jacket, but it isn’t carved too deep, certainly not in need of stitches - which was lucky considering that none of the three knew how to do them. 

“You need to be more careful,” she grumbles, swiping a dampened scrappy handkerchief over the cut, carefully cleaning the blood away before she loops a thin bandage around over it. 

“It’s just a cut,” he replies calmly. 

“But it could have been worse. That guy - he could’a -” She grits her teeth against the shaky hitch in her voice. He shifts to look at her, taking her hand and pressing his fingers into her palm, squeezing until her breaths even out and she looks up to meet his eye. Her tone turns serious. “I can’t lose you.” 

“It’s just a cut,” he repeats, “I’m okay.” 

He can’t promise her that it’ll be fine, that nothing bad will happen, she knows that - but she wishes he would lie, if only to make her feel even slightly better. Sighing, she shifts and tosses the bloodied handkerchief into the fire where it quickly catches, making the flames lick higher into the base of the water pan. 

After they eat, Maki retires into her small tent. She hunches over as she zips the tent flap shut and then kicks her shoes off into the corner. Jamming her thumb against the button of her flashlight, she sets it with the light aimed towards the roof, casting a glow around the inside of the tent. Sitting cross-legged on her sleeping bag, she groans quietly. Her legs ache, her knees especially. Glancing down to her hands, she grimaces at the sight of bruises and blisters. They’d gotten pretty battered during her frantic climb to the roof, her knuckles bumped and the fleshy parts of her palms roughed up by the steel bracings. 

Looking closer, she notices one of her nails had been cracked as well. She picks and chews at the broken part until it’s down to the quick and stinging. 

Huffing out a sigh, she pulls her glasses off and drops them aside before tucking herself into her sleeping bag and turning off the flashlight. The ground feels more uncomfortable than ever and the adrenaline from the game has long since worn off, leaving her alone with her exhaustion and her aching. She curls in on herself, trying to settle the dull hum of pain just enough for her to finally fall asleep. 

It’s a couple hours after Maki had stumbled off to her tent that Morizono is stamping out the last cinders of the fire, careful to make sure nothing was going to come back to life in the night while they slept. Danma is already kicked back in the larger tent, one hand propped behind his head, staring up at the tent ceiling. Sitting down on the tent floor’s edge, Morizono unties his shoes and kicks them off, tossing them into the corner of the tent. Shuffling in, he zips the tent shut and flops into his sleeping bag. The cut on his arm throbs dully. It’s hardly the worst injury he’s ever had and Maki had done her best to clean it up, but it’s still sore. 

He closes his eyes, ready to let sleep just overtake him. 

“I think this world is hopeless, Mori,” Danma says. Morizono sighs in the dark. He can already tell Danma isn’t just going to drop whatever he’s thinking about. Beside him, Danma shuffles and rolls to look at him, his sleeping bag crinkling as he inches closer. “Do you remember that Gandhi motto?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“'Be the change you want to see in the world', right?” 

“Takeru-” 

“I think we should do something - build something.” 

Morizono finally opens his eyes, turning his head to meet Danma’s gaze. He’s far too close. Even in the darkness, Morizono can make out the curves of his face, the curl of his hair. He breathes out lowly. 

“Like what?” 

“A utopia. Somewhere for all the people here to come together. There’s plenty of empty buildings around, we could use one of them. Gather food, supplies - it could be a real paradise.” 

“You’ve really been thinking about this, haven’t you?” 

“I really think we could do it.” 

Morizono is quiet in consideration, “Fine. We can try.” 

Danma smiles, appeased, and rolls onto his back. There’s a short beat of silence, then he looks back to Morizono. 

“You’ll convince your sister, won’t you? She won’t listen if it’s me.” 

Morizono sighs quietly, “I’ll talk to her.” 

Come morning, Morizono unzips the flap of Maki’s tent, kneeling down and reaching in to gently shake her awake. She groans sleepily, squinting against the bright morning sun that shines in. Her face scrunches up and she rolls onto her side, throwing her arm over her eyes, her face buried into the crook of her elbow. She’s never been a morning person. The sight is so strangely familiar that Morizono can almost convince himself that they aren’t where they are, that they’re just camping and hadn’t been playing with their lives just hours earlier. 

“Mori,” she groans, dragging his name out, complaining. 

“Come on, we’ll go find something for breakfast,” he says, pulling on the cover of her sleeping bag. 

She groans again, but sits up and fixes him with a look. Noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the bruises on her hands, he forces himself to shake off the sinking stone in his gut. She’d survived and she’ll heal, a bruise is just a bruise, he reminds himself. 

Shifting back, he moves out of her way as she clambers out of her tent. She drags her button-up out with her before reaching back to scoop her glasses up, then slips both on. Grabbing her shoes from the tent’s corner, she tosses them onto the grass before she stands up and shoves her feet into them, re-tightening the laces. After taking a moment to stretch the sleepiness out of her body, arms over her head and twisting at the waist, she looks back at her brother, yawning into the back of her hand. 

“You’re not going to make me jog, are you?” she grumbles sleepily. 

He chuckles, then nudges her in the direction of the street outside of the park. 

As they walk, Maki leans her head back into the morning sunlight and takes in the plants growing over everything. Japanese ivy, climbing hydrangea and ferns, porcelain berry vines. It’d all be quite beautiful - if it wasn’t for the near total desolation of the city and the nightly death games. She reaches out to touch a small white hydrangea flower, rubbing her thumb over the soft petal. It’s only rained once in their time here, yet so much greenery has grown, thrived even. Just like the animals coming back into the city, the green side of nature is also taking over with the absence of people to cut them back. 

She fixes her glasses up onto her nose, then shoves her hands into her pants pockets, glancing sideways at Morizono. He’d woken her up for some reason and it wasn’t just for breakfast, she’s sure of it, but he hasn’t spoken yet. It’s not often her brother is so lost in thought. 

“Is your arm okay?” she starts casually. 

He glances to where the white bandage shows through the rip in his overshirt sleeve, it’s slightly bled-through, “It’s fine, just sore.” 

“So what are we actually doing? - and don’t say something about breakfast.” 

Morizono sighs. There’s a flicker across his face as he seems to try and figure out what he’s going to say and how he’s going to say it. What could be so serious? She stops walking, forcing him to slow down and look at her. 

“Danma has an idea.” Her perpetual pout flattens in an unimpressed line. Morizono sighs again at the sight. “Can you at least listen before you make a judgement?” 

She sighs back at him and gives a wave of her hand, “Let’s hear it then.” 

He explains carefully, trying to pick his own words and not simply repeating Danma’s. Maki, at least, stays quiet for the moment, listening as they continue walking along. She plucks a large Japanese ivy leaf, feeling over the veins and rolling it into a thin tube between her fingertips. 

“And where does he plan to set this up?” She doesn’t sound impressed, but isn’t fully declining. Morizono doesn’t answer, Danma hadn’t had an answer for that, only the vagueness of ‘empty buildings’. She huffs quietly, tilting her head slightly as she thinks it over. “A hotel would be the best option. Lots of space and rooms. Apartments are too … intimate. Too filled with people’s stuff. Hotel rooms will be emptier - and it’d be easier to clear out suitcases than people’s whole lives from their homes.” 

She breaks the ivy leaf tube into pieces, cutting through it with her thumbnail. 

“You’ll help then?” he asks. 

“The two of you have already made the decision,” she replies, thinly veiling the frustration in her tone. Tossing the rest of the leaf aside, she doesn’t meet his watching eye as she picks sticky green residue out from under her short nails then clears her throat, “We’re going to need a map, or a travel guide to see what hotels are around. We can probably dig something up in one of these stores.” 

“You were always the smartest one of us,” he says. 

To anyone else, it sounds like a compliment, but she knows he means it like an apology. Yet again, she’s being dragged along into their plans without a voice of her own. It’s a subtle cruelty, one she’s all too familiar with; always the youngest, always the last to know the plan, hauled along like by the strings laced on a puppet. 

She shifts, clicks her tongue, “I’m just the one that likes details.” 

Turning, she shoves open the swinging door to the nearby convenience store on her left, walking into it before he can say anything more. 

When they return to their camp, Danma is laid back in the midmorning sun. He’s got his hat tiled over his eyes and one ankle propped up on the knee of his other leg, bouncing his hanging foot to a silence beat. It’s almost as if he’s relaxing on a holiday and the sight of him boils Maki’s blood under her skin until she feels red hot in the face. Approaching him, she flings a stack of maps and travel brochures into his gut with a sharp flick of her wrist. 

“You want to build a paradise, pick somewhere to make it,” she says, her tone thinned to a cutting monotone. 

He’s frustrating, lying there relaxing like that, treating Morizono like his dog to plead his idea instead of coming to her himself. Coward bastard, he knows she’d deny him flatly but she’d never be able to do the same to her brother. Danma sits up, straightening his hat over his dark curls with one hand and catching the stack of slightly yellowed papers with the other. 

“You didn’t have an idea?” He queries casually, flicking open a brochure. 

She almost snaps to ask what he’s been doing all morning while they were out. 

“A hotel,” she answers instead, the words clipped, sharp-edged. 

Turning, she heads to her tent, her legs kicked out through the flap on the grass so she didn’t have to remove her shoes. She sets a plastic bag beside her, yanking out a box of macadamia chocolates and a couple bags of various kinds of chips. Not much a breakfast, but she didn’t care. She rips the box open, stuffing a slightly smushed piece of chocolate into her mouth and letting it slowly melt until all she’s left with is chunks of macadamias that she crunches between her teeth. 

Morizono sits down by Danma, setting the plastic bag between them and leaning his arms onto his legs. Danma lays out a large map that had been mixed in with the brochures, flattening out the creases and pinning the corners down with a few round stones, then he sets the brochures in a pile beside the bag. He plucks up one, smoothing a thumb over the age-soft crumpled paper. 

“She doesn’t seem happy,” he muses, “but she agreed?” 

Morizono glances towards her legs kicked out of the tent, a box of chocolates sitting on her stomach. 

“She’s just annoyed she wasn’t included in the conversation,” he answers, reaching into the bag to dig out a pack of rice cracker mix. 

“She would’ve cut the conversation off at the first syllable of ‘paradise’.” Danma plucks up a few more of the brochures, shaking them limply at Morizono, “Do you have any preference where we should go?” 

Through the morning, the pair eat and sift through the pile of brochures. They mark places down on the map, sticking to the wards closest to Shibuya. Danma plucks up one of the brochures, grins, and turns it to face Morizono. He takes it, frowning slightly when he realises where the hotel is located. 

“This is in Setagaya City. Right by the Tama River,” he says. Danma doesn’t seem to realise the issue with that fact, so he continues, “That’s almost a three-hour walk from here.” 

“We could ride bikes, cut it down to about an hour,” he argues back, “We’ll put it on the bottom on the pile and check it last, but I think it’ll be a good option.” 

“Fine,” Morizono says finally, leaning over to circle around the Seaside Paradise Tokyo Hotel. 

Just after midday, Morizono hands the pile of chosen hotel brochures to Maki, letting her check them out. Coming to sit with them by the map, she neatly taps the brochures into a stack and starts to flip through them. She grits her teeth and is quick to complain about the potential of an hours-long walk down to Setagaya City. Morizono has to settle that before it turns into a fight between her and Danma. He placates her with the promise of letting her ride on the back of whatever bike they manage to find so that she wouldn’t have to do the work of biking down. 

With the visas from the five of clubs, they decide to use a couple of the days in full to prepare for and then walk to and explore the hotels. Better than being caught out at night too far from their camp site, though Maki quickly tries to argue that they could just stay in one of the hotels. It’s different than someone’s home, less personal, she wouldn’t be as uncomfortable sleeping in a hotel. 

They spend the rest of the day preparing. Maki gathers food and water from shops. Morizono finds backpacks and other supplies, bringing her back a new pair of shoes - more pacification, she’s sure, but she doesn’t complain since she was in need of new shoes. Danma trails around with Morizono, but she doesn’t know how helpful he’s actually being. 

By late nightfall, while Morizono is cooking and Danma is marking a route between the hotels, Maki strolls off to the side of the park. She swings her small torch by the wrist loop. The city is mostly dark by now. Earlier, she could see the far off lights of the night’s games, but none had been nearby the park they’re using as a home base. As far as she can see, many of the games are over now. 

She tilts her chin up, turning her gaze towards the sky. Later, by midnight, the sky would be full of red lasers. People who had run out of visas would be dead all over the city, like every other night this week and for who knows how long before then. Her mind whirls with thoughts, so many questions that seemed unanswerable. 

What was the point of a 'paradise'? For how long could 'hope' - in any understanding of the word - prosper? How many people could possibly be left in Tokyo? And of them, how many could be trusted? These games didn’t allow for the softhearted, the kind and earnest, to survive long. What were they bringing down onto their heads by shining a guiding spotlight into the darkness of this world? 

She closes her eyes to the glimmering pinprick starlight and breathes out into the night. 

Danma had his mind set on this plan and Morizono would follow him and, as she always had, Maki would follow right along after her brother. 

By morning, it’s overcast. The air is humid. The sunlight is thin and bright through the stripes of greyed clouds. Sipping from a water bottle, Maki looks over the map and Danma’s haphazardly scribbled route. She goes over the line, memorising each circled point; they’d head through Shibuya to Minato, up to Chuo, then to Chiyoda, over to Shinjuku, and lastly across into the outer edge of Setagaya towards the Tama River. 

It would take all day. She can already feel the way her legs will be aching come sundown. 

Sighing, she folds the map back into a yellowed rectangle and holds it out for Danma to take. Tightening the laces of her new shoes, she pushes up onto her feet and scoops up her backpack. She glances over to watch as Morizono finishes pulling down the larger tent before folding it up and setting it on top of Maki’s already pulled-down tent. 

With any luck, they’d find a place for Danma’s paradise and wouldn’t have to come back to the park and set the tents back up. She mollifies herself with the possibility of sleeping in an actual bed, with decent sheets and a mattress and pillows, for the first time since ending up in this world. 

“Ready to go?” Morizono asks as he dusts off his hands and Maki passes him his backpack. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she deadpans, still not sold on Danma’s idea. 

By the time they reach Chiyoda, Maki is grinding her teeth in a way that makes her jaw hurt, her mouth downturned in a frustrated scowl. Her dark hair is hot from the watery sunlight and she’s sweating down the back of her neck. There’s not even a breeze, just humid heavy air all around making her clothes cling to her salt-damp skin. Every single hotel they’ve visited, Danma has shot down, claiming each 'wasn’t the right place', the vibes were 'off' or he 'didn’t like the look of it' or it was too run down or too overgrown with plants to be worth trying to work on. 4 and 5 star hotels and somehow none are 'right enough' for Danma. 

She stops walking, planting her feet on the ground. It takes Morizono and Danma a few steps to realise that she’s stopped and they turn back to her. Her hands are clenched in fists at her sides. 

“Enough. Where is it? Which one is it?” she snaps. Neither man says anything and she marches forward to snatch the map out of Danma’s hand. The old paper crumples in her tight grip as she shakes it at him. “Which hotel? Clearly you have an idea of where you want to set up this thing, so which one is it? I’m not walking all the way to another hotel just to hear you make excuses for why it’s 'wrong'.” 

Danma’s quiet for a moment, fixing her with a levelled gaze. “The Seaside Paradise.” 

“In Setagaya?” 

“Yes.” 

She throws the map at him, exploding, “Why didn’t you just say that at the start then? It’s longer from here to Setagaya than it was from where we started in Shibuya.” 

“I wanted to see the other hotels,” he replies unapologetically, straightening out the creases she’d made in the map. Maki bristles, anger kindling into wildfire that sears beneath her already too-hot skin. 

“Let’s find some bikes,” Morizono says, cutting in between them, a splash of water against the growing flames. 

Maki sits herself on the pillion of Morizono’s bike as he rides. She grips the metal and lets the breeze run through her hair. The speed makes her vision blur until she can see nothing but objectless colour. For just a moment, she can distract herself, she can pretend they’re back in reality. 

She feels half like a teenager again, just her and Morizono and Danma, racing off to spend an afternoon somewhere. She thinks of cold drinks and hot food and the bustle of faceless people moving, the sounds of the city all around her. She thinks of Danma, younger with his hair longer, saying some quip that makes her brother, younger and leaner, smile in that private way that was saved for only Danma. A tiny Maki would sit to her brother’s side and bristle with some kind of sisterly, friendless jealousy that she didn’t understand. 

Even now it feels like that most days. 

As the bike slows after a little longer than an hour, Maki’s eyes blink open to thin slits. It’s early afternoon by the time they pull to a stop at the wide arch of a hotel; it’s hot and the sun is high in the sky, burning white-yellow through the gaps in grey clouds. 

Morizono sets his foot on the ground, steadying the bike as Maki hops off the back and stretches. He kicks the stand out, digging into his bag in the basket to pull out a water bottle and gulp down a few mouthfuls. Danma pulls up and hunches over the handlebars of his bike. He’s sweaty and his hair is tangled worse than ever, slipping out of his loose ponytail. 

Hiking her bag up, Maki steps closer towards the arch. 

The Seaside Paradise Tokyo Hotel. It’s a hotel, garden, and spa all in one - or so the brochure had read. A four-star leisure-luxury that Maki couldn’t ever have found a reason to spend money on in reality. Now, she didn’t need to, it’s open freely to them. Setting their bikes aside, Morizono and Danma step to her side and the trio pass by an overgrown garden as they walk towards the entrance. As they reach the front doors, she finds they aren’t even locked and the large glass doors swing open. 

Danma quickly strides in and Morizono follows shortly after. Maki trails at a slower, more cautious pace, her gaze flicking around the hotel. It’s completely empty with not a single other person in sight and no light beyond what comes through the windows, making the surrounding aura uncomfortably eerie and their footsteps loud in the otherwise silence. 

They walk through an empty lobby into a dim annex. There are lush couches abound and a large decorative chandelier hanging from a high-vaulted ceiling. Danma lights up, his pace fast with excitement. He flings his arms out, grinning as he turns back to Morizono and Maki. 

“This is it - this is where we’ll build our paradise!” he exclaims. 

Uncertainty paints across Morizono’s face. Danma, noticing it, crosses the room to him, grabbing him by the shoulders, focusing their gazes together. Maki moves past them, glancing around the stretching ground floor, then she looks back to them. 

“We can do this - you, me, Makina - together, we can do this,” Danma insists. 

Morizono seems close to breaking under his conviction. 

Maki looks around once more and frowns. 

“It’ll take a lot of work,” she cuts in, unconvinced. 

“It just needs a little tidying up,” Danma shoots back, his head jerking towards her. There’s a flicker in his eyes, like he’s waiting for Maki to continue and explain exactly what is necessary. 

He has her hook, line, and sinker as she replies. 

“More than a little.” Her arms cross as she turns in a slow circle, “There’s no electricity, we’d need to figure something out to combat the darkness. People were probably staying in the rooms before they disappeared, so their luggage will need to be cleared out. The food in the kitchen is probably rotted and disgusting, that’ll need to be tossed and replaced with whatever we can pull out of the shops nearby; we’ll need bottled water too, or some way to filter water. All of the gardens are overgrown, the pools are probably dirty - not to mention, there’s likely no running water either so we’re screwed on that account.” 

Danma’s smiling and Maki frowns. He sweeps forward to grab her, grinning as he squeezes her arms. 

“Ever the smart one,” Danma singsongs, complimentary. 

She shakes him off and fixes the sleeves of her button-up with a huff. 

“Do you realise how much work this is going to be? There’s only three of us and we don’t have that many days left on our visas before we have to go and play more of those games,” she argues, her tone sharp, “We should be trying to figure out how to get back to our world, not setting up some kind of 'paradise' in this one.” 

“So we’ll need more people to help us. We could find some - in the games, smart folks,” Danma replies easily, clearly ignoring the latter part of her statement. “Two days. Clear the rooms, throw out the rotting stuff, tidy up around here a bit; just make the place look presentable, enough to convince others that this could work. Then we’ll go find some people.” 

Maki looks to her brother, waiting for him to pick a side and speak up, he just shrugs in reply. Sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose, she takes a breath to clear her mind and focus on where to start. 

With a flick of her hand, she grumbles out a 'whatever' and pushes past Danma to head to the front desk. Hopping the wide-curved counter, she pushes the swivel chair out of the way so she can dig through the drawers. First things first, the keys to the hotel. A master key would be best, but she’ll take a ring of spares if that’s all there is. While searching, she pulls a thick binder out of one of the drawers and flips the cover open. 

“What’s that?” Morizono asks as he comes to stand at the desk opposite her. 

“Guest log,” she answers, trailing a finger over the dividers until she comes to July and heaves the pages over, “Now we don’t have to go to every room, just the ones that had people staying in them.” She puffs out a breath, hands planting on the desk top, chewing her lip. “I need to make a list.” 

She pulls the rolling chair back over, setting her backpack on the ground and dropping into the cushy seat as she starts to dig around in the drawers again. Pushing the clutter around, she uncovers a thin rectangular notebook and pulls it out, reaching over to yank a pen out of a plastic square-shaped holder by the dead-screened computer monitor. She tears out pages upon pages of useless drivel from the notebook until she reaches an empty one, tossing the crumpled papers into a small wire bin under the desk. 

Hunching over the notebook, she starts to write down a list of everything they needed to do. When she’s finished with that, she flips to a new page and starts marking down the booked rooms on each floor. After writing down every booked room, she breaks the list down across three more pages, then tears out the latter two for Morizono and Danma. 

Spinning in her chair, she turns to the cupboard behind the desk and pulls its doors open. There’s keys and spare keys hanging in rows, all matched to the hundreds of rooms. Still no sight of a master key. No doubt it’s probably with the manager - wherever they were - or in an office or backroom somewhere. Huffing through her nose, she plucks keys down, matching them to booked rooms and bunching them together for each list. 

Getting up, she heads over to where the two men were sitting on one of the couches in the seating area. She tosses one bunch of keys into Danma’s lap and passes the other to Morizono, then passes them both a list. 

“We should clear the rooms first,” she says. At least then they’ll have clean - well, cleaner - rooms to spend the night in. Danma picks up his bunch of keys and looks between his and Maki’s and Morizono’s. 

“This looks like a lot more than that,” he says pointedly. 

“It’s your paradise, you put the work in,” she answers, hiking her bag onto her shoulder then turning heel to find a staircase up. 

Chapter Text

Clearing the rooms out is slow work. Maki quickly discovers she could never be a hotel maid. It feels too weird, too strangely intimate to enter a room some stranger had been staying in and then have to clean up after them. Too often, she finds herself spending more time in each room and looking closer at the things as she packs them away. 

She pulls clothes from closets that she carefully folds into halves then lays into opened suitcases and bags. In bathrooms, she plucks up tubes and cases of unfamiliar make-up, some stuff clearly belonging to out-of-country tourists. She sprays and sniffs perfumes as she packs them away, some are nice, others so overwhelming her nose scrunches. Piles and piles of kitschy souvenirs from all over Tokyo get stacked away, figures and magnets and keyrings. She carefully tucks away lacquerware and tea sets and kokeshi dolls. 

Each packed-up suitcase and bag gets dragged out into the hallway and piled by the staircase. Hours drag on as she moves from room to room. Outside, the sun slowly arches through the sky, drooping down to meet the distant horizon and sink below it. Eventually, it’s too dark to do anything more. 

Maki pulls her flashlight out of her bag, shining it down the halls. It’s even more eerie in the dark and she drags the thin beam of light in a slow arc, from one side of the hallway to the other. She hasn’t run into anyone yet, but she still tenses at the possibility of someone hiding in the dark and watching her, or lying in wait to jump out from any of the surrounding rooms. An icy shiver runs down her spine at the thought and she hurries quickly to the staircase, heading back down to the main foyer. 

The ground floor stretches far, the corners disappearing into inky shadows that her flashlight beam can’t fully reach. It’s an open floor plan broken into smaller sections, sitting areas full of couches and small wooden tables, there’s decorative tall-grown plants spilling out of their pots that are tucked into corners. She casts her gaze across the wide room, then moves to sit on one of the couches on the edge of one sitting area. 

Toeing her shoes off, she pulls her heels onto the couch, her arms wrapping around her knees as she hugs them to her chest. When Morizono or Danma came down, they’d see her immediately. 

By the time the two come downstairs, Maki is half-dozing, her eyes heavy lidded and her head bobbing as she tries not to fall asleep. Morizono touches her shoulder to gently rouse her and she lifts her chin from her knees to slowly blink up at him. She nudges her glasses up and smudges her hand across her face, waking herself fully and dropping her feet to the ground, pushing them back into her shoes. 

“Did you get everything done? I’ve got another few rooms left, then we should start on cleaning out the kitchen,” she runs through sleepily, shoving her feet into her shoes. Her brother squeezes her shoulder, guiding her as she stands and sways. 

“We’ll worry about it tomorrow,” he says gently. 

“Shall we take the suites?” Danma proposes cheerily, smiling at the thought. Maki glances at him, then motions towards the front desk. 

“I already grabbed the keys out.” 

To nobody’s surprise, Danma takes the largest suite. They haul up ten flights of stairs to the top floor and he throws the door open with a flourish. The room is tended and neat and looks as if it hasn’t been touched. Thinking back to the guest log, she remembers that it hadn’t been booked. Unless someone like them had come up this far, it likely hasn’t been touched since everyone disappeared. 

Maki glances around the room from the doorway. She turns her flashlight’s beam around, over the tidy bed and its high pile of pillows, flanked on either side by a pair of elegant gilded-edged bedside tables. There’s space enough for a cushy sitting area with a love seat, arm chairs and glass-topped coffee table, and large windows lined along the walls, each facing out towards the dark city. There’s an open door leading no doubt to a bathroom and a large ornate closet against a wall, matching a couple chests of drawers. 

Danma flings himself backwards onto the bed, his body bouncing before he sinks into the no-doubt expensive mattress. He throws his arms out on either side, letting out a pleased sigh. Maki rolls her eyes and pushes off the doorframe. She nudges her knuckles into Morizono’s shoulder and he glances back at her. 

“I’m gonna go to bed, I’ll leave the first room for you,” she explains, passing him a key. 

He nods, telling her 'goodnight'. 

Maki turns to head back down to the ninth floor. She bypasses the first suite for her brother and heads to the second room, unlocking and pushing open the door. She shrugs her bag off and sets it on the ground to use as a door stopper, keeping it propped open as she glances around. Walking in, she aims her flashlight cautiously around the room. She checks under the bed, in the bathroom, and in the closet. 

When she finds nothing, she breathes a sigh of relief and picks up her bag, finally letting the door swing closed. 

Now sure that she’s alone, she takes a chance to actually look around. It’s not as grand as the top room suite, but it’s still very nice - clearly more expensive than anything in her apartment could compare too. There’s a simple wooden table and matching chairs tucked into one corner, near it was a small two-seat couch with a single matching arm chair and a low dark wood coffee table with a 'tourist attraction' book, a small fake plant, and a small stack of round drink coasters on it’s top. Against the wall is a matching dark wood console with a sizeable television sitting atop it. It’s a shame that it doesn’t work, not that there’d be anything playing, probably only static. 

Setting her bag on the couch, she kicks her shoes off to the corner near the bathroom door and pulls the clean covers down on the large bed. Having an actual room and bed for the first time in days, she decides to get comfortable. She’d prefer to have a shower first, but that wasn’t an option, so instead she shucks her pants off, folding them in half and tossing them over the back of the couch; peels her socks off and tosses them beside her shoes; shrugs her button up off and tosses it onto the couch by her bag before reaching under her top to wriggle her sports bra off, throwing it aside. 

After putting her glasses down on the bedside table by a non-working lamp and her upward-standing flashlight, she clambers into bed and feels more relaxed than she’s been in days. 

The mattress is soft and cushy, almost too plush after sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag for the last week. The head end of the bed is piled up with pillows that Maki shuffles around until she’s sufficiently surrounded, then drags one in to hug to her chest. She blinks sleepily, yawning and feeling her body sag with tire. 

In the hall outside her room, she hears muffled familiar footsteps come to stop outside her door. Holding back sleep, she waits to see if her brother will knock. After a long beat, the footsteps turn and walk off. The door next to her’s opens and closes, every sound slightly muffled by the walls. 

With a long exhale, she finally lets sleep overtake her. 

Maki wakes to pale morning sunlight shining through a part in the curtains. As she rubs a hand against her sleepy face, she can hear the soft pattering of rain against the glass. Climbing out of bed, she picks up her glasses and slips them on, padding her way slowly across the room to the window and pushing the curtains wider open. She watches as small beads of water run down the glass and fall onto a thin stretch of green foliage that had climbed high up the hotel walls. Looking further out, the city is being doused with summer rain, the sky is overcast and the clouds are light grey, blocking out the blue. It’s no storm, but there’s definitely going to be more rain. 

Turning away from the window, she grabs her pants from the couch and pulls them on before taking a seat and pulling her bag closer. She digs around to find a bottled water, takes a sip, then digs a little more to find something to eat. It’s not the most glamorous breakfast, but the canned bread is better than nothing and she devours every crumb. 

She allows herself another few moments of peace before she gets up and re-dresses fully. Looking at her bed, she immediately wants to climb back into it and let the rain lull her back to sleep. An amusing thought unfurls inside of her head of Sleeping Beauty and her castle covered in climbing, thorn-stemmed roses. Her smile soon slips as her thoughts wander towards the bookshop where she worked. 

The same old questions slip to the forefront: How far had this emptiness spread? Was it just Tokyo or did it go further than that? Was it all of Japan or the whole world? What happened to the people who were missing and where had they gone? Were they even still alive? 

She shakes the thoughts off. There’s no point thinking on it when she knew she didn’t have the answers. With work to be done, she can’t just sit around and ponder. Leaving her button-up hanging over the back of the couch, she pulls down the hem of her tank top as she leaves her room. 

Heading downstairs, she pauses on the eighth floor to glance down the hall. 

There had only been one room booked on that floor, but it had been under a company’s name instead of a person’s. Walking down the hall, she pushes a door open to find a long conference-style room. It has a minimalistic design, thin white curtains hanging over the windows were covered by thicker ones that were tied open, letting the light in; there were a couple long thin tables pushed up against the far wall and a single long wider table in the middle of the room. The long table is lined with chairs, and there’s more chairs piled high in one of the corners. Part way down the room was a sliding dividing screen, pulled half-open to reveal the rest of the long room. 

There were no bedrooms on this floor, but maybe Danma could find some use for the conference room. Leaving and re-closing the door, she continues down to finish cleaning out the booked rooms. 

The rain makes for nice background noise as Maki works. It makes her think of her bookshop job again, sitting by the front window and reading on slow days while she waited for customers to pick out what books they wanted to buy. She misses the smell of old books and new books, the old wooden shelves and the sunlight through the front windows; she misses sorting the books and opening boxes of new books and putting all of them to their proper spots; she even misses taking customer calls and putting in book orders on the too-old computer that was in desperate need of replacement. 

Hauling up another pair of suitcases, she backs out of the room as she drags them along into the hallway. She stops are she hears a rush of quick footsteps coming down the stairs. Morizono stops on her floor, the worry in his eyes relaxing when he sets his gaze on her.

“Mori? Everything okay?” She asks, pulling the wheeled suitcase over to the pile by the staircase. 

“I just - I didn’t know where you were,” he answers, his voice stilted with slight embarrassment over his worry. He takes one of the bags from her and setting it on the top of one tall pile, “You didn’t answer when I knocked.” 

“I thought I’d get started early,” she pauses to think, “We should try and find some walkie-talkies, maybe the radios still work. Then we wouldn’t have to go looking for each other to talk.” 

He nods shortly. 

She continues, “When we go out looking for food, we should stop by … somewhere? An electronics store?” 

“A police station,” Morizono offers instead. She nods. 

“Right. They’d probably have some pretty good ones. Long distance.”

“Are you nearly finished here?” He asks, glancing down the hall. 

“Yeah, I just have a couple rooms left. If you and Danma are done with your floors, you could start moving the suitcases down to the basement while I finish up here.” 

He nods again, then turns to head back upstairs to Danma’s suite. No doubt he’d still sleeping. Heading back down the hall, Maki starts on clearing out another room. 

The three work into midday. Maki finishes her set of rooms and starts helping to move the packed bags down to the basement with the two men. Morizono makes it look frustratingly easy, lifting heavy bags and lugging them down the stairs with nary a misstep, then piles them against the wall and up towards the basement ceiling. On the other hand, Danma drags his feet, pulling suitcases down the steps with rhythmic thumps and leaving them for Morizono to stack. Maki hoists bag straps onto her shoulders and grabs suitcase handles to drag them down the steps. 

After almost toppling down one of the staircases, Morizono insists she leave the rest of the suitcases to him and just focus on moving the travel bags and duffels down. She rolls her eyes, but agrees. 

It takes a handful of hours, but then - finally - they’re done. A far, dark corner of the basement is stacked full of heavy luggage nearly all the way to the roof. The trio pile into one of the sitting areas on the ground floor. Maki flops down into a chair, throwing her leg over one of the arms and straining a hand up the back of her sore neck. 

“Kitchen’s next,” she says with a tired sigh, then she grimaces, “That’s gonna be gross. A place like this, it probably had a lot of fresh stuff that’s gone all rotten by now.” 

“Speaking of food, we should eat,” Morizono adds. 

She lifts her head to look at him, “Do we have anything?” 

“Not much.” 

They each rumble out a disappointed sigh. No restaurants or shops to buy something fresh from, nor any real way to cook. Thoughts of food swirl into her head, onigiri and fresh fruit sandwiches and yakitori and okonomiyaki and udon, and her stomach grumbles lowly in complaint over reminding it of things it can’t have. Propping her chin on her knuckles, Maki looks to the pair of men and lazily thumps her heel on the side of her chair. 

“So should we do the kitchen or go looking for food then?” 

Begrudgingly, they decide on the kitchen. 

Expectably, the kitchen is a mess. There’s a lingering smell and Maki’s nose scrunches in disgust before she even opens the large swinging doors. Pausing to ready herself, she takes a low breath in through her mouth, then presses a hand to one of the doors and pushes. Close behind her, Danma audibly gags and twists to hurry a few steps back from the kitchen entrance, sucking in fresh air. Morizono hacks at the smell and immediately halts at the doorway, clearly nauseous. 

Throwing a hand over her mouth and nose, Maki takes a short step further inside. The kitchen is dark with no windows to let in natural light. Pulling her flashlight from her pocket, she clicks it on and casts the beam in a wide arch around the large room. 

It looks to have been deserted in the middle of meal preparation. Cooking stations are splayed across the kitchen’s once-pristine counters, food and cooking utensils have been long abandoned. Half-prepared food has rotted into a foul dark sludge across various surfaces. 

Stumbling back out of the kitchen, she sucks in deep, gulping gasps of cleaner air. There’s an acrid taste in the back of her mouth and she feels close to retching, her stomach flopping in disgust. 

“We’re going to need a new plan,” Morizono says, looking uneasily towards the kitchen, a little green in the face. 

Maki moves to lean against the nearest wall. Starting to plot up a new idea, she mentally lists things off on her fingers while longing for a notebook and pen to actually write down her thoughts. She should’ve brought the one from the front desk with her. 

“We could always just block it off,” Danma proposes and Maki shoots a glare in his direction. He frowns back, his gaze defensive, “What? It’s not like we’ll be able to actually get the kitchen working.” 

“It’s a hazard and it’s gross,” Maki shoots back, disgusted at the thought of leaving it all there to dissolve and rot any further. She shakes her head and starts to list off on her fingers as she continues, “We’ll need gloves and some kind of aprons, garbage bags for all the rotting stuff, masks for the smell and the mould, cleaning stuff - disinfectant. We can prop the doors open to try and get the smell out, but we’ll still need to figure out some way to get more light in there while we work.” 

“Camping lanterns? Or headlamps?” Morizono offers. 

Maki nods shortly. They’re both good options. 

Danma sighs noisily, “Fine. Let’s go then.” 

The trio trudge back towards the front of the hotel. Half way across the lobby, Morizono pauses in thought, then hurries off, telling them he’ll meet them at the front doors. Danma sits himself on one of the couches, lying back, and Maki stands in the large doorway, leaning on the doorframe. The rain has stopped for the time being, leaving behind a damp humid haze and a stretch of pale grey-clouded sky. 

Morizono soon returns, folding a pair of duffel bags in half. They’re usefully large, more-so than their backpacks. Maki’s gaze turns from the bags to raise a brow as she meets his eye. 

“You’d better not have left a mess down there after we just got it tidy,” she muses, only partly serious. 

“They were only half-full, I moved the stuff to different bags,” he answers. 

He taps the bags against her bicep as he passes her. She smirks and pushes off the doorway, following after him. 

Stepping out into the haze, she wraps her button-up tight around her and tilts her head towards the sky. She can barely pick out where the sun is hiding behind the grey clouds. Danma passes by her to walk next to Morizono, the two walking casually ahead. It’s a familiar sight. Hoisting her backpack up, she sighs and hurries her pace to walk on Morizono’s other side. 

They walk along in tired, hungry silence. Turning a corner a few streets from the hotel, Morizono pauses in front of a police station. It’s one of many across the Setagaya ward. The siblings walk inside and Danma follows with a confused expression. 

As Morizono explains, Maki walks off to look around. 

She’d been no frequent flyer of police stations, not in the way Morizono and Danma were back in their 'teenage delinquency' days. Back then, her brother had insisted she not follow in his footsteps. He’d taught her how to fight, how to protect herself, but always warned her against getting into 'pointless' fights. Often he’d tell her if she had a problem to tell him and he’d deal with it for her. She never had. 

Walking around, she picks through desks and cupboards. She finds a couple large, heavy-duty flashlights that she stows away into her bag. Pulling open a desk drawer, the movement makes a small gun skitter to the front of the drawer. She stares down at it. She’s never been so close to one, never even held one. Her hand hovers over it. A small voice in her head questions if she should take it. It’d make good protection, wouldn’t it? If someone like that man from the clubs game came around to the hotel, it’d be good to have, wouldn’t it? 

Morizono and Danma step into the doorway and she quickly shoves the drawer closed, leaving the gun untouched. 

“Find anything useful?” Danma asks. 

Maki smiles thinly, “Just … more flashlights.” 

Morizono holds a walkie-talkie out to her as she comes over to them. It’s heavy in her hand and she turns it to-and-fro. It doesn’t look necessarily difficult to use, but definitely on the heavy-duty side. He gives her a quick walkthrough of how to use it, which buttons did what and which dial not to touch so she didn’t mess with the joined station. 

“Now you can wander off as much as you want,” he says. 

“Right,” she chuckles lightly and fits the radio into her bag’s side pocket. 

As they leave the room, Maki pauses and casts a lingering look towards the desk with the gun, then she quickly hurries out. 

They find the rest of the stuff they need much easier and, in Maki’s case, with much less surprises. She thinks more than once about whether or not she should bring up the gun to Morizono. He’d make better use of it than her and she’d trust him more with it than whoever else might come across it. In the end, she doesn’t bring it up. 

As they walk back to the hotel, Maki’s arms are heavily bundled with plastic bags of food, the thin handles digging into her forearms and the soft curves of her elbows; Morizono and Danma lug along the duffels full of cleaning items. The air hangs humid and still, making it feel even hotter than it really is. They trudge along in silence, trying not to wear themselves out before the big job of cleaning the kitchen. With less to carry, Maki takes the lead. 

Passing in through the large, wide doors of the hotel, she sighs in relief as she dumps the bags down in the sitting area, not wanting the newly gathered food anywhere near the mess and rot in the kitchen. She wrings her arms out, rubbing her hands over the handle-made indents in her forearms. The men set the duffels down on a nearby short-legged table and each flop into a chair, eager to catch their breaths. 

As much as Maki would rather just get to work and get it over with, she relents to let them rest for a bit and digs around for a pair of bottled waters, passing them over. They pick through the plastic bags, eating a small amount to recover some of the energy they’d expended. 

Eventually, it can be put off no longer. 

Pulling on aprons and gloves and masks, they shake open garbage bags and sort through cleaning products. Maki twists her long hair back into a low bun and tucks the sides of her hime bangs over her ears, intent on making sure there was no chance of it getting any messier during the cleaning process when she has no way of washing it. She also makes sure to take off all of her rings and bracelets, stuffing them away into the pocket of her pants for safe keeping. 

The kitchen is no less disgusting the second time Maki enters it. The smell permeates through the mask she wears and she quietly gags, tightly pressing her lips together. With a rough sigh, she clicks the light of her headlamp on and gets to work. The doors get propped open wide to try and get fresh air into the kitchen, rotten food and long ruined kitchenware gets shoved into garbage bags, the fridges get emptied with wide scooping motions; she cleans off large knives and clicks them onto a thin magnetic knife rack on the far wall. 

When the benches are cleared off, they disinfect and wipe each of them to shining silvery perfection, then they move to do the same to the large fridges. 

By the time they’re done, Maki is exhausted and sweaty, strands of her hair have escaped her hairband and hang limply around her face. She knows she should feel hungry after all that work, but the smell has just made her feel sick to her stomach, like she couldn’t stand to eat anything more than the plainest of bland meals. 

Neither Morizono and Danma have fared any better. They all shuck their cleaning attire off, shoving the dirtied items into one of the garbage bags and tying it shut tightly. There’s no point in keeping them now with the state they are in. 

Gathering up the garbage bags, they haul them out to a set of large metal dumpsters tucked at the back of the hotel. Rainwater has already gathered into puddles in the bases. As a new shower of rain starts to fall, they quickly toss the bags and rush back into the hotel.

Inside, Morizono and Danma collapse onto the closest couches, heaving in breaths of fresh air. Maki leans against the back of one couch, pulling the elastic out of her hair and grimacing at the greasy feeling as she runs her hand through the long strands. Sighing, she wonders if it’s possible to somehow get the showers working at the hotel, but such plumbing issues are far outside her realm of understanding. 

The rain is coming down harder now, the sky has darkened to such a heavy cloud-covered grey that the sun has no hope of shining through it. Maki pushes away from the couch to stand by the door and stare out into it. She thinks about how gross her hair feels and how sweaty she’d gotten during the cleaning process. It wouldn’t quite be a shower, but it’d be better than nothing. She’d at least feel cleaner. 

She toes her shoes off, then stuffs her socks inside them. Shucking her button-up shirt off next, she folds her jewellery and glasses inside the fabric and sets it on a nearby chair. Taking a breath in anticipation, she walks out into the chilly downpour and tilts her face towards the sky. 

Within moments, she’s soaked down to the bone. The sound of her peaceful sigh disappears beneath the low rumble of distant thunder. She throws her arms out either side, feeling raindrops slip over her skin, dripping between her fingers. 

“Makina!” Morizono calls out to her from the doorway in an older-brotherly tone she is all too familiar with, “What are you doing?” 

She simply laughs, throwing her head back and spinning in a tight circle through the downpour, droplets flying off her hands and the long strands of her hair. 

Grinning, she calls back to him, “If you’re not going to come join me, can you at least grab me a towel?” 

By the time Maki comes back inside, her fingers are pruny and the rain is coming down in a stinging cold sheet. The sky has gone bruise dark, the sun slinking down behind the distant skyline. She stands below the awning outside the doorway, squeezing out as much water as she can get from her hair and clothes, then steps inside to wrap herself in the towel. 

Gathering her shoes and wrapped up accessories, she finds her bag to dig out her flashlight and heads down into the basement. Her clothes are soaked through. She’d prefer to snag some fresh clothes from a shop, but there was no chance of going out tonight, so she’d have to make do with whatever she could pull out of the hotel guests’ bags. 

Tucking the end of her flashlight in her mouth, she pulls a duffel bag down from the higher side of the bag pile and unzips it. This one, at least, has clothes in it instead of trinkets and souvenirs. Setting it on the ground, she crouches down and picks through it. Men’s clothes, it seems, not that she minds too much. Picking something out, she takes a sniff, thankful to find it clean smelling. She pulls out a tee that’s a size too large and a pair of baggy pants she’s going to have to cinch at the waist to fit her. Folding them up, she lets them dangle from her fingers, careful to not get them wet. 

Back in her room, Morizono brings her something to eat as she dries her hair. She rolls her eyes through his concerned harping about her possibly getting sick and, eventually, they say their 'goodnights' as he leaves. Between bites of her would-be dinner, she brushes her hair out with a brush she’d taken from one of the bags, yanking through tangles and knots that had formed. She unpacks her flashlight, walkie-talkie, glasses and jewellery onto one of the bedside tables and leaves her button-up to dry over the back of the wooden desk chair. 

Soon, the exhaustion of the day hits her and she clambers in to bed, dressed in new, dry clothes and feeling cleaner than she has in days. 

“How’s she doing?” Danma asked as Morizono strolls into the royal suite. 

Shirtless beneath a fluffy, white bathrobe, he sits laid back on a plush couch, his ankle propped on his knee. He swigs from a bottle he’d stolen from the hotel’s ground-floor bar and makes no attempt to offer it to Morizono, knowing all too well that his friend didn’t drink. 

Morizono takes a seat on the couch beside him, sighing roughly as he relaxes into the cushions. They’re more plush than anything he owned in reality, they’re almost too soft. He’s been tense for what feels like days. Unable to find any time to unwind, his body aches under the weight of it and he strains his hand over his shaved head and down the back of his neck. 

He considers Danma’s question. The image of his sister pops into his head, her spinning and laughing in the rain, the cloud-dimmed light catching on droplets that clung to her skin. She’d seemed peaceful, at ease, like she’d found a moment’s respite from the situation they were in. 

“I haven’t seen her smile like that since before we ended up here,” he replies finally. 

“Not such a bad idea after all, was it?” 

Morizono huffs, amused, “I never said it was a 'bad idea'.” 

“But you weren’t convinced it was a good idea.” 

Danma shifts to face him, propping his arm on the back of the couch. He balances the bottle on his knee, his fingers curled loosely around its neck. There’s a particular sparkle in his dark eyes that Morizono is familiar with. Morizono glances briefly towards the door. 

“You know, Makina’s probably asleep by now,” Danma says, leaning a little closer in towards him, “And this is far more private than the tent.” Her runs his fingertips over the curve of Morizono’s broad shoulder. “This would be a good chance to …” A smile flashes to his mouth, “relax.” 

Morizono casts one more short glance towards the door, then reaches to take the bottle out of Danma’s hands and put it on the nearby coffee table. Hauling one arm around his waist, his other hand grips Danma’s leg as he effortlessly picks him up from the couch. Danma chuckles as he swings his arm around Morizono’s neck, dragging him into a liquor-tasting kiss. 

Carrying him along, Morizono heads towards the bed. 

The bed, like the couch, is almost too cushy to be comfortable. 

Chapter Text

Much of the next day is spent preparing. Maki makes sure to clean up more, adjusting bumped couches and scooping up fallen leaves in the sitting area, rechecking the rooms, neatly hanging keys in the cupboard behind the front desk. By the time the sun passes its peak and is starting to arch down, she still isn’t sure she’s done enough, but accepts that it’ll have to do. 

They leave the hotel by mid-afternoon, preparing for whatever games were going to get thrown at them tonight. It’s almost three hours back to Shibuya and Maki runs through the plan once more as they walk. 

“So we’ll meet back up here near the park when we’re done,” she concludes as they come to a crossroads. Morizono and Danma both nod. She takes a breath, turning to look down the street where she could just see the light of a game’s 'go this way!' sign starting to flicker on. 

A hand curls around her own, squeezing. She glances back to see Morizono looking at her, concern painted across his features. 

“Be careful,” he says, seeming to struggle to find the words he wanted to say. 

“I will - make sure you win,” she replies, squeezing his hand back. 

She’s the first to let go, because she has to be. His hand lingers, hovering in the air. She starts to walk off, forcing her gaze forward so she wouldn’t look back at him and lose her resolve. He watches her go, she can feel his gaze on her back. Soon, Morizono and Danma part too, heading in opposite directions towards their respective games. 

It’s unsettling walking the empty streets alone. The sun disappears quickly, leaving Maki with only her flashlight and the glowing signs for light. Her head turns on a swivel, snapping towards every quiet sound but always finding little in ways of explanation, making her even more uneasy. Silently, she longs for something to protect herself. Morizono had taught her how to fight, but under these circumstances it didn’t seem like enough. 

Her mind flickers back to the gun she’d seen hidden away in that desk drawer and she shakes her head. She had no skill with a gun, no experience, it’d just be dangerous in her hands and not the way she’d intend for it to be. A knife, however, that she’d be able to manage with, even a small one. 

A near-blinding sign guides her around a corner and she finally sees where all of them had been leading her too: a performance centre. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, looking over the building from the street. It’s on the smaller side, likely to be little more than waiting-and-payment foyer in the front and a stage hall in the back. 

Walking in, she finds she’s not the first to arrive. Three people - two women and one man - stand separately around the waiting area. One of them, an attractive woman with a sharp cut bob and a severe expression, pokes around behind the desk by the wall. Steeling herself with a deep breath, Maki walks further into the foyer, heading for the desk to pick up one of the waiting phones. The woman behind the desk gives her a cursory glance but says nothing as she goes back to searching through the splayed remnants of their original reality. 

Taking the phone, she registers in before tucking it away into the pocket of her pants. Pacing a slow circle around the foyer as she waits for the game to begin, she fiddles absentmindedly with the small flashlight she’d hung back onto a mini-carabiner attached to one of her belt loops. The walkie-talkie is hooked to her waistband, it’s a heavy weight that bumps against her hip with every step. 

More people slowly file into the hall’s entrance, some looking nervous and others looking more determined. Soon, there’s twelve of them standing around. None of them speak to each other, only briefly regarding the rest cautiously. Maki turns her gaze over each person, questions running through her mind. Who was smartest among them, who could offer ideas, who could be trusted, who was most likely to stab her in the back? 

A musical jingle chimes across the foyer from the speakers and the doors to the performance hall swing open. Small LED signs light up to blink and point them inside. Some of the players glance warily to each other. The woman from behind the desk, seemingly unflappable, walks in through the doors and the rest soon follow after her. 

Only the stage lights are lit, bright and lowly buzzing, the rest of the room is left dim as if prepared for a show. A large projection screen is pulled down above the stage. The hanging projector clicks to life and shine onto the screen. A down-shot image of the hall appears on the screen, appointing seats to each player. Above the image, black thick-font text reads 'find your seat!'. Maki quickly spots her own name and makes her way down the aisle to her assigned seat. The players are scattered seemingly at random across the first few rows of seats, no more than two to a long row. 

On her seat, there’s a computer tablet waiting and she picks it up. It turns on when she presses the button, but only displays her name on the screen. Taking her seat, she looks to see her aisle partner a few seats down: the woman with the bob cut. Glancing back to the large screen, she notes that her name must be 'An Rizuna'. Before she can think to say 'hello', the last player takes their seat and the overhead stereo speakers crackle on. 

“Game difficulty, three of diamonds. Memory Recall.” Maki breathes out a quiet sigh of relief. Even she could manage such a low levelled diamond game. “Pictures will flash across the main screen, then players will need to answer questions about the pictures shown. Players are allowed three mistakes, a fourth mistake will result in elimination. Cheaters will be eliminated. Players who attempt to leave before the game is cleared will be eliminated. Game cleared after five rounds.” 

The announcement voice speaks with such robotic efficiency that it dulls the reality of it. The word 'eliminated' hangs in the air. Maki’s fingers grip around the tablet in her hands. She locks her eyes onto the main screen. Pictures flash in quick succession; butterfly, grandfather clock, tea cup, thread spool, Mount Fuji snow globe, scallop shell, chestnut, hairbrush, ink pot. When the array of pictures finally stop, the screen of her tablet lights up with the first question. 

In the corner of the screen, a small red timer ticks down. 

Setting her jaw, she forces herself to focus. She taps through the five-set of questions, they’re easy things like the order of pictures or the colour of an object. Even plodding carefully through them, she finishes long before the timer reaches single digits. 

In her periphery, she can see Ann. She has one leg crossed over the other and the tablet balanced on her knee. Her gaze is turned up towards the screen waiting. She seemed to have finished quickly. 

Maki turns her own gaze to the large screen. The down-shot image has reappeared. Players who have completed the questions have a large green tick overlaying their names. As the last player finishes, a tally below each name appears, numbering one-through-five and ticking off each correct answer. 

One of the players a few rows back gets an 'x' through one question. A quick 'incorrect' sound blares and Maki jolts up when she hears a man cry out in pain behind her. 

She twists in her seat to see the man standing up. 

“It shocked me!” he shouts, pointing at his seat. 

A few other players leap up, fearfully looking to their own seats. Another noise blares from the speakers, sounding more like an alert. A red light flashes from the screen, casting the room in an eerie glow. 

“Players, return to your assigned seats or you will be eliminated,” the announcer’s robotic voice orders. 

Nervous and begrudging, the ones who had jumped up sit back down in their seats, the tablets gripped in their hands. Maki sits a little stiffer in her own seat. The red light clicks off, replaced by a black screen with white printed text that reads 'round 2'. 

The next round passes much the same way. The pictures change slightly faster and there’s a few more to remember, but nothing jumps out at her. As the screen goes back to the down-shot, she turns her gaze down to the tablet to answer the questions. She takes her time again, even more cautious now with the knowledge that she’d be shocked for getting an answer wrong. 

The tally starts up again and she sighs quietly in relief seeing that she’d gotten all the answers correct. However, she can’t say the same for two other players, both collecting an incorrect answer each. More blaring noises then, in quick succession, two pained shouts. She doesn’t turn around this time, gripping tightly to her tablet. Taking a deep breath, she exhales it slowly. 

Round three starts. Her eyes focus in on the pictures. Calico cat in a wicker basket, beach, Camellia japonica, sunset, coral reef, sheathed katana, collie dog in a field, chunk of amethyst, decapitated head - 

She jerks in shock, missing the next few images in her surprise. Her tablet lights up in her hands and she almost drops it. Head turning on a swivel, she glances around to the other players. A few look grim, chins dipped towards their tablet screens. Down her row, Ann sits unfazed, clicking through her questions. 

Shakily, she focuses on the questions. She gets through the first few, but the last question gives her trouble. Her fingertip hovers above a collection of images trying to figure out which ones she’d seen on the screen. Which ones had she missed? And how many? Her mind whirls. The timer tick-tick-ticks down, double-digits down to single-digits then to zero right as she clicks a couple more pictures at random. 

Her stomach sinks as she looks nervously up towards the projector screen. She grimace at the sight of all the incorrect answers, ‘x’s below everyone’s names except Ann’s. That annoying blaring alarm and then a jolt of pain goes up her spine. She jerks over in her seat, her back arching, hissing through her clenched teeth, her hands clutching around the tablet. 

Sitting up again, being pointedly sure that she wasn’t against the backrest, she pushes her glasses back up and sets the tablet in her lap as she stretches the tension out of her fingers. Briefly, she touches her fingers to the walkie-talkie at her waist and takes a breath. She couldn’t risk another mistake. Looking back up to the main screen, she grits her teeth and forces herself to take in every horrific image without flinching. 

Another round of questions lights up her tablet screen. Some of them make her stomach twist up more than others, her mouth sets in a grim line. What colour were the man’s eyes? Opacified blue. How many bracelets on the amputated arm? 3, braided gold. How did the person die? Laser through the skull - Was that photo taken in this world? Another player? 

The tally rolls again. There’s more incorrect answers for the other players, but Ann’s score remains perfect again. Suddenly, large 'x'es brand across the players’ names with too many incorrect marks. There’s a noisy violent crackle of electricity and sharp, pained cries meet her ears. Then, silence. 

Maki stares forward, refusing to turn around and see what had happened. 

The last round starts. It’s more gruesome than anything she’s ever seen, in reality and this world. The pictures almost look like stills from a movie but somehow she’s sure it’s all real and it makes her feel sick. 

She bites back the nausea and looks down to her screen. One more round of questions then it’s done, she tells herself. Another game passed for nothing more than a measly amount of days and a useless card. She taps carefully through the first four questions, flipping through the last round of images in the forefront of her mind. 

The final question loads in: what was the first picture shown in the round 1? 

She pauses. 

Round 1? She rakes back through her memory, past the last few rounds’ gory gruesome images to the simpler initial pictures. Somehow it feels like it was hours ago. The timer crawls towards the zero. She drums her thumb on the side of the tablet. Blue and black, eye-patterned wings unfurl in her mind. Junonia orithya. A butterfly. 

She jams in the answer with only seconds to spare. 

Seven of the twelve players leave the room. Winners, but they certainly don’t act as such. There’s a hush over them, lining up to collect their visa tickets and cards, and then leaving without sparing anybody another glance. She and Ann are at the end of the line. Maki lists her weight from foot to foot, swaying slightly as she waits. She turns her gaze to watch the third-to-last player walk out, leaving her and the other woman alone. 

Ann waits silently for her ticket to print, her arms crossed, drumming her manicured fingers against her bicep. She plucks up her ticket and card, then turns to leave. Maki jolts to stop her, throwing up her hands to show she meant no harm. 

“An Rizuna, right?” she starts, aiming for a casual tone and landing instead on vaguely stilted awkwardness. Ann quirks a dark brow. She tilts out one hand, offering it for Ann to shake. “Aguni Makina. You can just call me 'Maki'.” 

Ann glances down at her hand, then back to her face. After a beat, she takes Maki’s hand, giving it a short shake then letting go and loosely crossing her arms again. 

“Can I … help you with something, Maki?” she asks, eyes narrowing slightly, confused but seemingly curious. 

Maki’s hands flit nervously. Her mind whirls with a sea of thoughts, trying to figure out what the best way to explain Danma’s idea. She didn’t have the gift of the gab, of compelling tact. Ann, gratefully, is patient. Taking a breath, she goes with what comes easy to her: Bluntness. 

“My friend has this plan. We - this friend, me, my brother - have done what we can ourselves, but we need more people to help us. Smart people. My friend can explain better than I can if you come with me.” Her hands fly up again, defensive, silently urging her to wait and consider, though Ann had made no move to interrupt. “You don’t have to agree now. Just … come and listen. If anything, it’s at least a good place to sleep for the night - clean bed, locked door - and you can leave in the morning if you want.” 

Ann’s gaze flicks over her, considering, then she speaks. 

“Why are you offering this to me and none of the others?” 

A smile quirks at the corner of Maki’s mouth. 

“You didn’t get a single question wrong.” 

Niragi’s not sure what to make of this whole idea - or why this guy Aguni asked him out of all the players from the game. There’s a voice in the back of his mind, telling him this is a bad idea or maybe a trap; that this guy could be as bad as any of the bullies from his high school, luring him away to beat him up and take anything he had on him. Not that he has much. It’d be the right idea to not trust anyone in this fucked up world. 

Part of him wants to say he’s changed his mind, to turn around and get out of here while he still had the chance, but he’s too curious to decline. If this is real - and after he and Aguni had had each other’s backs during the game - the least he can do is hear this 'Danma' guy out. 

They’re walking down a dark street with the moon above acting as their only light. Niragi puts a comfortable foot or so of distance between them, just in case that niggling thought isn’t so stupid after all and he needs to run. He scratches the nail of his pointer finger at the dry skin by his thumbnail and presses his tongue piecing against his palate, all while trying to keep up a visage of calm casualness. 

Aguni hasn’t said anything in a while, but neither has Niragi, so they walk in silence, the only sounds their footsteps on the sidewalk. 

“Mori!” comes a yell from down the street. 

Aguni stops and turns to look. Niragi follows suit, hands tucking in his pockets and leaning back slightly on his heel as a pair of women jog up to them; one waves an arm in greeting, a small glowing flashlight in her other hand. As they get closer, Niragi glances sideways at Aguni. 'Mori'? A nickname? 

The two women slow, the taller keeps a wary distance but the waving one comes right up to Aguni. He reaches to set his hand on her bicep, just above her elbow, an obvious touch of familiarity. 

“Maki, you’re okay?” He asks. She nods. 

Niragi leans his weight onto one side to see past Aguni and look at the chick, her features lit up by the glow of her flashlight. 

She looks like Aguni, he supposes, not completely but they had similarities, like their noses and the angles of their faces. Their eyes, he notes, they have the same eyes; warm brown and slightly turned down and dark circled. 'Maki'’s mouth is set in a kind of perpetual frown, her plush lips slightly downturned at the corners. She’s frankly tiny in comparison to Aguni; height-wise, she reaches to just around his shoulders, but the cut of her too-big tee and baggy pants makes her build look similarly stocky. 

Despite himself - and the situation they’re in - he can’t help but to admit that she’s pretty in a rather understated way. Looking closer, squinting, moonlight plays across a light spray over freckles over her rosy cheeks and the spot of a beauty mark by her mouth. 

Seeming to finally notice his staring, she tilts her head to look at him and meets his eye. She’s got round brown eyes like a lamb. He blinks at her. Her lips purse in a small, curious pout. 

Aguni starts to turn and Niragi quickly redirects his attention, swaying his weight back onto his other foot, shifting his hands in his pockets, pretending to not have been looking so closely at the girl. For a moment, Aguni eyes him, then speaks to introduce her. 

“Niragi, this is Makina, my sister.” It’s a pointed statement, clearly a warning to say she’s 'off limits'. He replies with a short, polite nod. She dips her chin the same, then turns back to the other woman who has her arms crossed loosely, introducing her as 'An Rizuna'. 

With introductions over, the four continue down the dark street, Maki’s flashlight beam aimed ahead and bouncing along with her steps. 

They walk along in relative silence. Maki is shoulder-to-shoulder with her brother, Ann is at her side and the new guy is at his - Niragi, her brother had called him. Part of her is curious as to why Morizono chose him. It isn’t beyond her imagination that her brother might’ve just flipped a mental coin and Niragi was just random chance out of however many players. She hopes for better than that though, that Niragi could be of actual help to them. 

Coming up to the familiar crossing, she can already see Danma standing there, clearly regaling two people with god-knows-what. There’s an easy smile across his face, his posture loose and casual. Across from him are a man - tall, wearing thin glasses and what would’ve been a tidy suit if he’d had a jacket or a tie - and a woman - attractive, petite, and clearly fashionable with a curtain of long dark hair falling over her thin pale shoulders. 

Morizono hastens his pace and the rest of them follow suit. As they approach, Danma lifts a hand in greeting and the two strangers glance their way. They fall into a small grouped-together coterie, the two strangers introduce themselves as 'Kano Mira' and 'Kuzuryu Keiichi', then Danma leaps up onto a nearby bench as if to take the stage. 

Before anyone else can say anything, he makes a wide greeting motion and flows into what seems like a pre-prepared speech. He introduces himself, lays out his plans, what help he needs from them; it’s all in spoken filigree with convincing prose and decisive quotes, he speaks on challenging adversity and not giving into despair and growing hope. As ridiculous as Maki still thinks the whole plan is, she can’t deny that Danma has a flare for speeches. The sweeping motions, his saccharine intonation; annoyingly, to her at least, he’s both charming and compelling. 

“Where do you plan to set this up?” Ann asks finally as Danma’s speech slows to its end. 

“The Seaside Paradise Hotel. We’ve checked it out, it’s in excellent condition considering the circumstances,” he answers easily with a smile, breezing a hand in the direction the trio had come up earlier than afternoon. Ann glances over her shoulder down the dark street. 

“A place like that probably has generators. If you get them working, we’d have electricity back without having to be in the game arenas,” Niragi cuts in, swaying casually on his feet, “Would probably need gas though, so long as they aren’t aged to shit with whatever’s going on with time here.” 

“We could make use of rain water,” Ann adds thoughtfully, “For drinking and cooking. Maybe use the water tanks and get the water running again.” 

Danma hops down from the bench, claps his hands to drag attention back onto himself. 

He smiles widely, “Come and see for yourselves. It’s only a short walk away.” 

The 'short walk' is admittedly not that short, feeling longer after the energy spent in their games, but none of their new companions complain. Danma leads on ahead, still talking about his plan, about potential ideas. Maki has stopped listening, she simply trails along. Her gaze turns briefly towards the sky, it’s clear of the previous day’s clouds and specked with stars. The moon is bright and full and Maki’s mind wanders off to try and figure out if it was supposed to be a full moon tonight. She can’t be sure, she doesn’t even know the date anymore. 

Seaside Paradise rises in the distance and soon they’re walking through the large front doors. Her eyes immediately flick across the entrance room, checking for any small thing she might’ve overlooked while cleaning that morning. When she finds nothing, she relaxes, feeling the tension slowly slip and loosen its tight grasp on her. 

“The name will have to go, of course,” Danma says, breezing a casual motion with his hand to the surrounding interior, then he proclaims, “We’ll call it the Beach.” Maki resists rolling her eyes at the familiar name. Danma turns and smiles, holding a hand to his chest. “And you can call me 'Hatter'.” 

She snorts then, quickly disguising it beneath a small cough. That stupid shopping district nickname. She supposes his old reputation would precede him with anyone familiar with the red light district. The 'Hatter' persona was perhaps more respectable, not that Danma had ever been ashamed of the past life he’d lead. 

The cough draws attention to her and she blinks innocently. 

“It’s much more impressive in the daylight. Spend the night, the deluxe suites are really worth that title. If you’d still like to leave tomorrow, you’re free to,” she says smoothly, moving towards the front desk to scoop the remaining suite keys out of the cupboard. 

Niragi, Ann, Mira and Kuzuryu all step forward to pick up a key each, then Maki leads them upstairs with her flashlight in hand. 

Chapter Text

Niragi wakes in the early morning, finding himself well rested after a night spent in an actual bed. It had been the most comfortable night of sleep he’s had since he’d arrived in this weird, in-between world. The 'borderland' he’d heard someone call it, but he didn’t know what to make of that. For now, all it seemed he could do was go through the motions, win the games and keep surviving - and now figure out this 'paradise' thing. 

That, too, is something he isn’t fully sold on. Though he likes the thought of having a place to spend his nights and days, not forced the wander through the empty city. The company didn’t seem too awful either, though he isn’t sure if he can trust them just yet. 

Dragging himself out of the bed, he dresses and pushes his feet into his shoes before leaving the room. He stretches his neck side to side, unwinding, then he ties his hair up as he walks. It’s a shame about the electricity not working, since now he’s forced to use the stairs to get to the ground floor instead of the elevators. He slumps his way down the seemingly endless stairs, yawning into his palm as he wakes up fully. 

When he finally does reach the ground floor, he glances this way and that, before shrugging to himself and just picking a direction to go at random. No one had said anything about anywhere being off-limits. 

Heading towards a pair of large, propped-open doors off to right, he strolls casually along until —

“Good morning,” a quiet voice pipes up from the sitting area. 

He glances over to see one of the women from the night before. Aguni’s sister, Makina. She’s tucked up onto one of the armchair couches, a scrappy pocket notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. Her hime-cut bangs fall bluntly across her brows. Sunlight coming through the open doors has honeyed her dark eyes, a glow of warmth. She stares across at him as she adjusts her dark-rimmed glasses. Flipping the notebook closed, she slips her feet to the ground, leaning her elbows onto her thighs.

“Good morning,” Niragi answers back, polite but curious. 

He turns fully to look at her but doesn’t come any closer. The early morning light coming through the nearby doors Maki had propped open dances across him. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him the night before, but she has the chance now. 

He’s handsome in a way, though maybe 'pretty' is a better descriptor with his long dark hair and soft pale features. At this distance, his eyes look almost black, like fresh ink blots on new paper. The most significant stand-outs are his piercings, silver studs through his nose and brow and two more through his helix. Her gaze trails over him. He dresses monochromic, mostly black with a flash of white in the stripes of his button-up shirt. He’s tall and slim, all smooth angles, nothing like the broad bulk of her brother nor the lean unassuming muscularity of Danma. 

Her eyes flash back to his face. She turns the notebook in her hands, flipping the top cover down over the page she’d been writing on. 

“I didn’t catch your name last night. First name, I mean,” she says, attempting a casual tone. 

There’s a curious though amused twinkle in his eyes. His tongue flicks, wetting across his lips. She catches sight of a piercing there too and a thrill pulses through her chest. A question pops into her mind before she can stop it: where else is he pierced that she couldn’t see? Her eyes flick over him again. 

“Is that important?” he asks. 

“Details are important. Names are,” she pauses, thinks, tilts her head with a quiet hum, “Interesting. You can tell a lot about a person by their name.” 

He looks at her, thoughtful for a moment, the quiet stretching as he thinks. 

“Suguru,” he answers finally. 

“Suguru,” she repeats, “With what kanji? 'Kindness'? 'Victory'?”

He smirks slightly, “'Excellence'.”

A small smile pulls to her own lips, a slight dip of her chin. 

“Of course.” 

Niragi sways, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Ma-ki-na,” he says, breaking her name into parts in a way that works to flusters her, kindling heat under her skin. “Don’t tell me your mother named your brother 'forest' and you 'tree'?” 

Her smile thins slightly, an awkward sting jabbing like a wasp trapped in her ribcage at just the thought of her mother. She knows what he means though; '杜' - 'Mori' - from her brother’s name, meaning 'forest', and '槙' and '木', which could be read as 'maki' and 'ki' respectively, one referring to a species of Japanese evergreen and the other meaning 'tree', and both plausible to show up in her own name. 

“No,” she answers, then flips her notepad back open to write down her own name’s set of kanji, “Like this.” 

She turns the page to him. '真希凪'. Ma-ki-na. Truth, hope, calm. 

He smiles in reply as he reads it, a short amused huff then his gaze flits around the sitting area. Her own gaze glances quickly over him once more; long dark hair, the soft curve of his jaw, the point of his pale collarbone showing through the open collar of his shirt, his long thin fingers, then quickly back to his face to meet his eyes as they settle back on her. He tilts his head casually. 

“So are you going to give me the tour then?” he asks, “One in the daylight this time?” 

“Oh, are we having a tour?” A smooth voice cuts in before she can answer. 

Maki jumps slightly, her head snapping towards the speaker. Mira strolls towards them, smiling easily. She pauses a few steps from Niragi, slightly closer to Maki, her delicate hands folded in front of her. 

The woman is pretty, with sharp delicate features and her lips painted rose pink in a seemingly-effortlessly perfect way. She has an elegance that Maki couldn’t hope to achieve even if she had one hundred years to attempt it. There’s also something about her that sets Maki on edge, but she can’t find the right word for it, nor finger a specific reason why. 

Getting quickly to her feet, Maki flits a hand over her side to straighten her too-large button-up. Her other hand holds the thin notebook and pen to her stomach. 

“Miss Kano,” she greets, then fumbles as she continues, flustered in her surprise at Mira’s arrival, “I, well, I can show you around a bit, but I think Dan-Hatter would do a better job.” 

“Don’t undersell yourself,” Mira replies smoothly, she waves Maki on, “Go ahead, lead the way.” 

Maki nods jerkily, glancing briefly at Niragi, then quickly away. She stands stiffly, trying to get her thoughts in order. Bluntness prevails. 

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve seen, there’s ten floors here,” she says, her voice taking on an almost robotic monotone as she lists facts. It’s nothing close to Danma’s clever, convincing intonation. “The second is a restaurant area, third up to seventh are normal rooms but the eighth appears to be for conferences. Ninth - well, you both slept there last night, the deluxe suites are on that floor. Hatter has already claimed the royal suite on the tenth floor.” 

Mira smiles, then motions minutely with her hand for her to start leading them. Maki nods shortly, turning stiffly on her feet as she starts walking. Mira fits herself between Maki and Niragi as they stroll, her hands still folded in front of her, each step smooth and precise, her high-heeled shoes clicking rhythmically on the floor. 

As Maki guides from the sitting area of the lobby to the door out to one of the gardens to the hall towards the kitchen, she motions along to each area, and squeezes at her notepad whenever she isn’t flitting her hands out. 

“What were you two talking about before I interrupted? I do hope I wasn’t imposing by inviting myself along,” Mira says smoothly. Maki feels her face heat, her gaze shifting aside in embarrassment. 

“Names,” Niragi answers for her, “Their kanji.” 

Mira clasps her hands together, smiling, but her eyes are still roundly wide. Doll-like, Maki notes. 

“What an interesting topic,” she says, “My own name makes use of,” she lifts a thin hand, using the painted and pointed nail of her finger to write in the air. Maki follows the movement, soon piecing the kanji together, '未' and '来', 'not yet' and 'next'. Mira smiles at her. “Mirai. Future.” 

Maki guides them in a slow loop around the ground floor. She waves towards yet another overgrown garden through a pair of large, glass doors leading outside. She pauses awkwardly by another pair of glass doors, these ones inside, glancing through them towards the large dark room of the indoor pool. It hadn’t been touched yet, still on the messy side in need of some cleaning. In truth, it’s a little embarrassing after all Danma’s pretty confident words from the night before. 

“Well, we haven’t gotten to the pools yet,” Maki confides awkwardly. 

“It seems like 'paradise' is still finding its feet,” Mira says, “You three don’t even quite appear to be settled in.” 

Maki laughs shortly, still awkward. 

“My brother has a bit of favour for 'roughing it'. We were camping in a park up in Shibuya before we came here a few days ago.” 

That seems to catch Niragi’s attention, his ink-dark eyes flashing in the dim hallway as he looks to her. 

“Is that where you were when everyone else disappeared?” he asks, a sudden urgency to his tone. She nods slowly. 

“Yeah, in Shibuya, by the -” 

“By the crossing?” He finishes for her. She nods again. His brows furrow and he frowns slightly. “That’s where I was.” 

Mira glances between them. She smiles and clasps her hands together, “How interesting.” 

Before Maki can think any more on it, the walkie-talkie at her hip crackles and Morizono’s voice comes through, asking where she was. She picks it up, replies, then looks to Niragi and Mira, quirking a small smile. 

“Tour’s over, I guess,” she says. 

Back in the main lobby, the trio meet up with the other four. Danma smiles at them as they approach, casually friendly. Maki moves instinctively to stand by her brother, tucking the notepad and pen into her pocket. Morizono glances past her to Mira and Niragi, more pointedly at the latter, then briefly to her. She meets his eye only for a moment. 

“If no one is interested in leaving, perhaps we get started then?” Danma says with a wide smile, his gaze turning across the group. “Niragi, you mentioned the generators last night, Aguni can show you to them if you think you can get them working?” 

Niragi shifts, “I can take a look, but it’s not really my area of expertise.” 

“Do what you can.” Danma’s gaze moves again. “Ann, the water tanks?” 

“I'll check them out',” she answers smoothly, “The door to the roof is probably locked, do we know where the key is?” 

“I have the master key,” Maki says, lifting a hand. 

She’d found it in one of a few offices on the eighth floor during her cleaning the morning prior, the room probably belonged to whatever manager ran the hotel. With some effort and a little cleaning, she figures she could make better use of the place once 'the Beach' was up and running smoother. 

Ann nods shortly. Danma looks to Maki. 

“Do you have any other ideas for what needs to be done?” He proposes it in a way as if he’s including her in the discussion, not asking now that he has no ideas himself. She knows him well enough to recognise it but can’t snap at him over it since there’s more people around and they needed to present a united front. 

“There’s still cleaning to be done. We need food, and clean water until the tanks are fixed. If Niragi can get the generators working, we’ll need gas to run them, either siphoned from cars or any nearby gas stations.” She pauses, hums softly while she thinks, “It’d be good if we had at least one working car, would make it easier to get everything from point 'a' to point 'b' if we could get one running again.” 

Glancing around the group, she continues humourlessly while drumming her fingertips against the thin notepad in her pocket, “Nobody here works in maintenance or mechanics, do they?” 

Nobody answers. 

She huffs, amused, “Yeah. Didn’t think I’d get so lucky.” 

Niragi waits on the ground floor as Aguni heads upstairs with Maki and Ann. He returns with a large, police-grade flashlight in hand. Nodding down the hall, he leads Niragi down to the basement. It’s dark and dreary and those thoughts of walking right into a dangerous trap flicker into the forefront of his mind again, making him tense. 

The musty smell of the basement makes him crinkle his nose. He keeps a wary distance from Aguni, squinting against the darkness as they trudge down the stairs. Against the far wall, he can see the dark solid shadow of things being bunched together and piled up. He squints and can just make out the shapes of luggage bags. 

Crossing the basement, Aguni aims the flashlight at the generators. Stepping around him, trying not to appear overly cautious, Niragi crouches near one to look over it. He prods at it, examining it as Aguni angles the light for him. His mind wanders. 

“Your sister said you guys were in Shibuya when you ended up here,” he says. He keeps his gaze focused on one of the generators, but can feel Aguni’s eyes lock onto him, “Do you remember anything?” 

Aguni’s quiet for a long time, long enough that Niragi considers he might just not get an answer at all. 

“Nope,” he replies finally, then, “Do you remember anything?” 

Niragi pauses, dropping his hand from the generator. He thinks back, not for the first time since arriving in the borderland. He remembers it had been a particularly hot day, the sun high in the sky and almost too warm on his skin. Something had drawn his attention and he’d looked up. He frowns at where the memory breaks off. He’d seen something then but, now, he can’t place it. Fireworks? But in the middle of the day? It’s not possible - and it’d be stupid to mention. 

He shakes his head. 

“Nothing. One second there were people there; the next, everyone was gone.” 

Aguni makes a quiet, affirmative noise, then adjusts the flashlight to give him better light. After a short while, Niragi stands and budges the toe of his shoe into the side of the generator. 

“Well, this thing doesn’t look too worse for wear. Should work fine, but Makina was right, it’ll need fuel to power this whole place. No way it’ll work the way it is now.” 

They’d met back up by midday to discuss what they’d found out and eat what little they did have stocked at the hotel. By early afternoon, Maki, Morizono, and Niragi are heading out to gather supplies. Maki has the previously-used duffels folded under one arm. With a hand, she shields her face from the bright sunlight as she squints towards the sky. There’s no longer a cover of dark clouds and the sun beats down on her. 

Morizono and Niragi turn towards a gas station and Maki pauses, hooking a thumb over her shoulder towards a convenience store when her brother looks back at her. He nods with silent understanding and she heads off across the road, strolling through the jammed-open automatic sliding doors. 

It’s cooler inside the building. Her nose twitches to the dusty, old smell. Age has reached this store too. Propping open the duffels and setting them on the front counter, she starts to walk around the shop. She trails down one short aisle, snagging a slightly melted chocolate bar off the shelf. Tearing it open, she takes a bite, relishing in the nutty crunch and the sweet taste. Finishing the bar in a few large bites, she folds the wrapper and shoves it into her pocket for when she found a bin later. 

Skirting around to another aisle, she blindly piles noodles and packs of instant curries and soups into her arms. She carries them from the dusty shelf to the front desk, dumping it all onto the counter beside the duffel bags to then neatly fit into them. It’s almost like a game of Tetris, figuring out the best way to put them in so that each inch of space was used without leaving too-large gaps. When she’s done with the first bunch, she goes back to the aisle to grab another armful. 

With one of the bags full and another half-filled, she turns to head towards the wall lined with fridges but pauses halfway down an aisle at a shelf of various colourful stationery. Empty notebooks were few and far between at the hotel, she needed something to write her thoughts down in, to make lists and keep track of things in. She picks up a thick, spiral notebook and dusts off the pastel blue cover. There’s a familiar watercolour penguin printed on the front of it. She smiles, running her fingers over the image. 

“Cute,” she murmurs. 

Feeling eyes on her, she jerks her head up and looks down the aisle to meet Niragi’s eyes. She hadn’t even heard him walk in to the shop. His gaze flicks to the notebook in her hand, one brow raising curiously. She quickly holds the book to her stomach, grabbing another couple at random, her face heating with a slight twinge of embarrassment as she twists towards the fridges at the end of the aisle. 

Tucking the notebooks under her arm, she starts to gather up lukewarm water bottles from the open-faced fridge. Niragi comes down the aisle to stand beside her, wordlessly scooping up bottled waters and then following her back to the duffel bags at the front counter. 

By the doors, Morizono sets down a pair of filled jerrycans next to one that was already sitting there and mops sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Meeting his eyes, Maki lifts a water bottle then swings it by the short neck, tossing it to him. He catches it effortlessly before cracking the lid and taking a few long gulps. Niragi lines up his armful of bottles and Maki neatly organises them into the half-empty bag. She tucks the notebooks into a side pocket of the duffel. 

Moving back and forth, they soon have both bags filled up to the brims and Maki works the zippers shut. Niragi picks up one of the bags and grunts quietly, swaying under the heavy weight of it as he pulls the strap up onto his shoulder. 

She hides a small smile by ducking her chin and grabs the other bag, easily working the strap over her head and fitting the bulk of the bag against the curve of her hip. All that training with her brother is proving to useful after all. Morizono picks up the jerrycans, the muscles in his arms drawn taut as he hauls them up. Niragi takes up the third jerrycan, even after Maki offers to grab it. 

It’s slow going back to the hotel, worsened by the heat beating down on them. They pause whenever Morizono needs to wring out his arms, or Niragi needs to adjust his bag or switch his jerrycan from hand to hand. Eventually, they make it back. On the street outside the hotel, Kuzuryu is leaned beneath the open hood of an abandoned car while Danma watches on from beside him. The trio pause on the sidewalk near them. 

“Any luck with that?” Morizono asks, nodding towards the car. 

Kuzuryu straightens, cleaning his hands on a rag and shakes his head. 

“I’m no mechanic, but even I can see that there isn’t anything obviously wrong with it. Besides that, there’s no keys anyway, so unless any of you know how to hot-wire a car…” he replies dully, then motions as if to say 'be my guest and try'. 

With no attempts made, the group make their way into the hotel. Kuzuryu moves to take the jerrycan from Niragi, who immediately stretches his fingers and wrings his aching wrist, relieved to be rid of the weight. Inside, Ann and Mira are sat across from each other on the couches in the sitting area, chatting quietly. Their poses mirror each other, with their long legs crossed one over the other; Mira’s delicate hands are folded in her lap while Ann balances a water bottle with its base propped on her knee. Both women look up when the group enters. 

Niragi swings the duffel onto the nearest couch, breathing a sigh of relief and straining a hand over his shoulder where the strap had dug in. Maki hauls her own bag off, setting it down more carefully. Briefly, she wonders if they should divvy it all up between them or leave it in the kitchen for people to pick and choose whatever they wanted. 

“We managed to get the water running, but without electricity, it’s cold,” Ann says as she walks over. She glances at the jerrycans, “Should we go see if we can get the generators working?” 

Lugging the jerrycans along, they make their way down to the basement. Ann and Danma take the flashlights, guiding along to make sure nobody trips on the stairs. After a few minutes of fiddling with the generator, they stand and wait anxiously. Danma takes the honours to start it up. With bated breath, they waits as the generator gradually whirs to life. 

Slowly, with a brief flickering, the basement lights come on. 

“It works,” Maki says, breathless in awed surprise. 

A short laugh burbles past her lips and, soon, the rest join in. The basement fills with the jovial, excited sounds. 

The next couple days pass relatively uneventful. They work together to finish cleaning up the hotel and to gather supplies from the nearby shops, each of them holding enough visas to forgo games for the time being. Maki takes the manager’s office on the eighth floor for herself. She tidies and rearranges it to her preference, emptying out filing cabinets and digging up a code for the safe in one of the cupboards. It quickly feels like her own. 

After eventually agreeing that the kitchen likely wasn’t going to be of any use, Ann takes it as a kind of 'office' of her own, offhandedly siting it as being 'similar enough' to what she worked in as a forensic scientist. 

In a third office that was seemingly once used by security, they find that, with the electricity back, the cameras are back on too. There’s many small screens showing nearly everywhere around the hotel, both inside the main hallways of each floor and outside over the gardens and pool. It’s an unsettling feeling to realise how closely they could be watched, but Maki shakes it off, telling herself it’ll be for the best when there’s more people here than she can count on two hands. 

The men keep trying to get at least one of the cars to work. They crowd around, staring into the open hood or probing at wires and arguing over which they should cut and which they shouldn’t touch. At the end of each day, they achieve nothing and always come back into the hotel frustrated with each other. Maki, Ann and Mira all agree that it’s stupid and they should just be looking to try and find a mechanic amongst players. 

Eventually, it becomes impossible to ignore. They’d need to go back into the games. All of their visas were running towards zero, with only small variations in the amounts of days between them. With all the work they’d done, it’d be all for naught if they just let their visas run out. At least in winning the games, they had a chance at surviving for a little while longer. 

After a briefness of arguing, they agree to split into three separate groups to take on three different games. Danma and Morizono make up the first team, then Mira and Kuzuryu, and Maki groups with Niragi and Ann. As she walks off, she can still feel the warmth of her brother’s grip on her hand, can hear his voice in her ear insisting she be careful. 

Chapter Text

Maki ends up walking in between Niragi and Ann on the way to their game. Neither of the two seem interested in talking to the other. More than once, Maki opens her mouth to broach conversation, but quickly shuts it again when she realises she doesn't have any idea what to say. She's never been much of a conversationalist; at least at the bookshop, she'd had books around to discuss, now such things seemed trivial and inappropriate. Fiddling with one of her bracelets, she snaps the elastic lightly against her wrist as she walks. The round blue beads are smooth under her fingers.

Following the arrow signs leads them into a nondescript building. There's not even an occupational sign to say what it might've been in the real world. It looks a bit like an old warehouse, but Maki can't be sure. She glances warily over the front of it as they walk inside. A table awaits them in the middle of the room, atop it is a set of three tech-y bracelets and phones. Also waiting is a team of three men, already wearing bracelets, who glance towards them as they walk in.

Stepping up to the table, they grab the phones to register in.

Past the table, the pair of tall glass cases don't go unnoticed by Maki and neither do the tubes leading down into the tops of them. A drop of water falls from the end of one tube, splatting quietly to the bottom of the case. They must be for the game, she can't imagine what kind of warehouse would need such a thing in reality.

Nudging her own bracelets up her arm, Maki fixes the game bracelet onto her wrist. After a moment, an EKG line pulses across its screen. After watching the beat of it, she glances back towards the glass cases. She's sure she knows what the deal is with them, but they still look wholly out of place among the dusty, rust-toned dinginess of everything else.

At her left, Ann looks over the bracelet for a long beat before finally clicking it onto her wrist. Niragi clicks his own on with seemingly not much thought. With that, two bright hanging spotlights appear over the glass case, making them glimmering like crystals.

"One player from each team must enter a case," a robotic voice orders tinnily from old speakers.

Maki glances to Niragi at her right, then to Ann, then she shrugs.

"I'll do it," she says easily and starts towards the case on the left. Niragi grabs her wrist, his brows scrunching. His fingers are slightly cool against her skin. She tilts her head at him. "What?"

"We don't even know what's going to happen if you go in there," he argues.

"Well, from the look of that tubing and all the locks on the door, I'm sure I can guess." His eyes turns curious and she nods towards the cases, "It'll start filling with water and you guys will probably have to find a way to unlock the case before I drown."

"And you're not worried about that?" Ann cuts in, disbelieving.

Maki shrugs again.

"I trust you guys. Besides, you're the smarter ones anyway, I think - and I can hold my breath for a long time." It's a bit of a weak joke as she attempts to lighten the mood a little. She considers the glass case and the dripping tube again. It'll no doubt be cold though, which won't exactly work in favour of holding her breath for as long as she usually could.

Begrudgingly, Niragi releases her wrist. She tugs her button-up overshirt off, folding it in half and leaving it on the table, then kicks her shoes and socks off. It'd be bad enough walking back to the hotel in wet clothes, she didn't want everything soaked. Taking her glasses off, she leaves them on the table too then walks over to the case.

Stepping inside, she gives Ann a small smile as the other woman steps up to close the glass door. The line of sliding locks on the side slip immediately into place. Maki sets her fingers against one of the walls, dragging a slow circle around the case as she turns 360°. The glass seems thicker and harder than normal glass, likely so it wouldn't be easy to break. It's also sealed tight, if it wasn't for the holes at the top it likely would have been airtight.

Despite the clarity of the glass walls, it still feels claustrophobic.

The other team were still arguing among themselves over who would enter the case. Seeming unable to agree, two of them grab the smaller member and shove him into the other case, slamming the door shut. The locks click shut and the member forced inside shoves at the glass door, his panic evident on his face, pleading to be let out.

It's hard to watch. Maki sets her jaw and quickly looks away.

The speakers crackle and the voice speaks again.

"Six of Clubs, Puzzle Escape. When the timer begins, water will start to fill the cases. Other players will have to complete the puzzles to receive keys and unlock the case before the player inside drowns. If the player drowns, all members of their team will be eliminated."

Without pause, a timer starts and water starts to pour from the tube. Maki dodges away from is, bumping into a corner, letting the water splash to the ground. She grimaces at the cool water against her toes. Niragi and Ann glance at her and she forces her grimace into a half-smile before motioning for them to get moving.

Pushing past a hanging plastic sheet, Ann and Niragi walk deeper into the warehouse, leaving Maki with water puddling around her bare feet. The lights of the warehouse are dim and flickering, glowing with an old orangey hue that made shadows turn inky black in the far corners. An equally old-and-orange spotlight hangs above a wide workbench-style table.

Across the wooden tabletop are a range of metal-cast puzzles sorted into open-faced wooden boxes numbered '1' to '5'. In the middle of the table, a set of small boxes are locked with 4-number combination locks, also numbered 1-to-5.

Niragi picks up one of the puzzles from the first box, his brows furrowing.

"Hanayama puzzles?" he says, confused.

"I hate these things," Ann grumbles while picking up a different puzzle of indescribable twisted metal. Shaking her head, she starts to pull at it, shifting the pieces around. "Let's just get on with it. You do those two, I'll do these two and we can work together on the last one."

There's a pinch of Niragi's expression, clearly annoyed at being told what to do, but he pushes past it to start working on figuring out the puzzle. He's no expert on these puzzles, but he's messed around with them before. It's almost relaxing, shifting the pieces around and working them apart. Glancing briefly over the boxes, he notices none of the puzzles are below the third level, the boxes labelled '3' and '4' are a mix of level-4s and level-5s, and the last box appeared to be full of level-6s.

Flicking his pierced tongue across his bottom lip, he forces himself to focus.

In a quick matter of minutes, he has his first four puzzles finished and the first four numbers found. When he looks up, he sees that Ann is still working on her third puzzle. He glances sideways. The plastic sheeting hides Maki from view, but he can hear the water splashing.

Moving around the table, he takes the half-finished puzzle from Ann's hands.

"Seven, two, five, one - figure out what order they go in the padlock," he says before she can argue.

Huffing quietly, Ann moves aside and picks up the first padlocked box. She thumbs the numbers into the padlock's dials, quickly trying combination after combination until the lock finally pops open. Wrenching the padlock off, she opens the box to tip the key out into her palm.

"Got it," she says, dropping the box back onto the table and hurrying back past the plastic sheet.

Maki is leaned up against one wall of the case, opposite where the water is sloshing in. The water is an inch or so above her ankles. She's rolled the legs of her baggy pants up above her knees and splashes one foot through the water, drumming her fingers on the glass as she waits. When Ann bursts past the plastic sheet, she looks up and pushes away from the wall, her dark eyes glinting expectantly.

Ann steps around the case to find the right lock. She glances up briefly to meet Maki's watching gaze.

"Are you doing okay?" Ann asks as she looks over the locks.

Maki shuffles, the water splishing around her feet, then shrugs.

"It's ... cold," she replies finally, "What are the 'puzzles'?"

"You know Hanayama puzzles?" Maki nods. "There's just boxes of them - and not the easy ones either."

Ann jams the key in the lock. It clicks.

Suddenly, water starts spilling faster out of the tube.

"Shit," Maki gasps, stepping out of the way of the water.

Ann echoes her sentiments, then quickly darts off behind the plastic sheet again.

Niragi's just starting on the third box when Ann bursts back through past the sheet, her expression twisted in worrying concern. She grabs quickly for one of the puzzles from the fourth box and he glares across the table at her with half a mind to snatch the puzzle back from her.

"What are you doing? Get the second key, the numbers are -"

"Unlocking the locks on the case makes the water run faster," she cuts him off with a hiss, her voice low so that the other team didn't hear her. Whether it was a race between the teams or not, she wasn't in favour of sharing secrets with them.

"What?" Niragi's eyes widen, and he glances toward the plastic sheet.

"Just work faster."

Niragi nods quickly and refocuses.

They work in quick tandem, picking up puzzles and working them apart to find the padlock numbers before moving on. Unlocking the key boxes could come later, they just needed to have all the numbers first. Briefly and independently, they both consider forgoing the puzzles and just trying to guess the padlock combinations - but there's far too many possibilities and not enough time to waste on it with Maki waiting on them. There's little chance they'd get lucky enough to guess the correct combinations quickly.

Neither voice it as an option and just keeping working at the puzzles.

On the other side of the plastic sheeting, the water inches higher and higher in the glass case. It bubbles up over Maki's legs, first soaking into the fabric of her pants, then climbing higher over her hips to her waist. She feels herself list back and forth in the small waves created by the gushing water. Reaching out, she presses her hands to the glass, palms flat against opposite walls of the case to steady herself.

Anxiously, she stares back over her shoulder at the plastic sheeting, waiting for either Niragi or Ann to appear and free her. Looking down at the EKG on the mechanical bracelet, she takes a long deep breath to try and keep it steady. Panicking isn't going to help her.

One of the other team's members finally appears from their side. Nervously, she chews her bottom lip. She wonders if she should tell him that unlocking the first lock will make the water run faster. Nothing had been said that both teams couldn't win, but she didn't know if both could win either. Before she can say anything though, the player shoves the key into a lock and the water gushes. The encased player quickly begins panicking again, hurling curses at the other man as the water rises faster around him.

Maki grits her teeth at the sounds of them arguing, flinching as she looks away. The water slowly creeps higher, a cold wet pressure reaching up to close around her ribs.

With all but the last four puzzles solved, Ann starts working on the padlocked boxes. Niragi picks up the first of the level-6 puzzles from the last box. He's never even attempted this level before back in reality. The ones he was used to he'd simply been fiddling around with during work, just something to do with his hands while he thought about other things. There'd never been someone's life tied to it.

He can still hear the water running just a handful of steps away, the sound not even slightly muffled by the sheet.

With his jaw set tight and his hands working on the puzzle, he wonders about Maki, about how high the water has filled the case and if she's doing okay. For only a brief moment, there's a hysteric reprieve at knowing that if she dies, he'll end up dying too and he won't have to face Aguni's wrath and grief over losing his sister.

Ann finishes unlocking the fourth box and sets it down, placing the key with the pile of others. Niragi pushes the fifth box towards her.

"Just try and guess the combination for that one," he says, barely looking up from the puzzle in his hands. He hears her jostle the padlock, then she quietly curses, the sound a hiss through her teeth. He sighs roughly, irritatedly pulling on a piece of the puzzle. "What?"

She reaches for one of the other puzzles.

"It needs a key," she answers.

"What?"

"It needs a key. There must be one hidden in one of these puzzles."

"They really wanted us to solve these ones, huh?" he grumbles in frustration, sighing and tossing his completed puzzle aside when he finds no key. He grabs another one.

"They wanted to waste our time," Ann answers as she yanks on a piece of the puzzle. "If we'd kept unlocking the case, there's no way it wouldn't be full of water by now."

Niragi's stomach twists at the thought of Maki's body floating in the water, pale and lifeless. He forces his gaze to stay on the puzzle in-hand and not look back at the sheeting again. Twisting and turning the pieces of an hourglass-shaped puzzle, he finally manages to get it apart and a tiny, almost paperthin key falls out. It clatters tinnily onto the ground and he scrambles to pick it up.

Snatching up the last padlocked box, he jams the key into the lock, twisting until it pops open. As he tips the larger glass case key out into his palm, Ann is already grabbing the other ones and moving towards the sheet. He follows quickly after her.

The water is lapping in small waves around Maki's collarbones. She's been forced up onto her tiptoes and has her chin tilted up to keep her face out of the water. Her eyes are closed as she focuses on her breathing and her dark hair floats around her shoulders. There's drops of water caught on her face. Ann taps on the side of the glass. Maki opens one eye to look at her way, swaying in the water, her balance slightly off.

"Be ready to hold your breath," Ann says as she checks over the locks, sorting the keys in her hand. Maki swallows thickly and nods.

In a quick scramble, Niragi and Ann try to figure out which key goes with which lock. One gets fitted into a lock and the water sloshes from the tube, gushing faster. Maki gasps in a deep breath, her small bubble of air getting even smaller. She squeezes her fingers through the air holes at the top of the case, pulling herself up in the water.

With the third lock unlocked, the few inches of air disappears within moments. Maki's face scrunches as she holds her breath. The heartbeat on her bracelet pulses quicker. The fourth lock unlocks and water pours out what were once air-holes in the top of the case. Maki's lungs burn with the lack of oxygen. She closes her eyes against the water and forces her free hand over her mouth and nose, resisting the urge to breathe in.

Niragi pushes the last key in, but it halts, not fitting.

"Why won't it open?" Ann asks, a twinge of anxiety threading her tone.

"It's jammed," Niragi snaps back.

He pulls the key out and tries it again, but it won't fit all the way in and won't turn. Teeth gritted, he pushes the key in as much as he can then presses his palm against it, shoving hard until it finally slots it. The key's thin end cuts into the flesh of his palm, leaving behind a small bleeding cut. Ignoring the sting of pain, he twists the key and the glass door bursts open.

Maki falls out of the case with a wave of cold water, toppling out onto the dirty concrete floor. After a moment, she plants her hands on the ground and pushes herself up, coughing and spluttering, spitting out water. She gasps in deep breaths, pressing a hand to her fluttering chest until her racing heartbeat slows. Sitting back onto her haunches, she swipes her hands over her face, flicking the water away and pushing her wet hair back.

Niragi breathes out a sigh of relief. His cut palm stings.

Ann moves to crouch by Maki's side, setting a hand on her clammy wet shoulder. Maki blinks wetly at her. Drops of water track down her face like tears, catching on her eyelashes and dripping over her chin and down her neck; one drop settles in the curve of her cupid's bow, wobbling above her softly panting mouth where Niragi's eyes are locked, reassuring himself that she's alive and breathing. 

"Are you okay?" Ann asks.

Maki coughs again, clearing her throat.

"Think I might give the Beach's pools a pass for a while," she answers weakly. Niragi snorts a short surprised laugh. He sees her smile lightly at the sound before she ducks her chin. As she catches her breath, she reaches up to squeeze Ann's hand that's still on her shoulder.

The game is soon over after that. The other team loses. Maki makes a point of not looking at the man's body floating in his watery coffin as she waits for the cards and visas to print. She doesn't want to think about how it could've been her. Niragi offers to carry her printed items since she's still soaked and dripping, and she thanks him. She's dried herself off as best she can and squeezed water out her hair and clothes, but her socks and shoes still end up slightly damp as her soaked pants drip. 

As they walk back to the hotel, Maki carries her overshirt, her exposed arms prickling with gooseflesh as the night wind chills her damp skin. Despite how much water she had managed to twist out of her hair, she can still feel cool water dripping from it and down her spine. She shivers and water drips from her bangs, splattering on the lenses of her glasses.

"You sure you're okay?" Niragi asks as she takes her glasses off to wipe them dry with her button-up.

"Well, I'm starving actually," she replies with a small smile, slipping her glasses back on, "but that just reminds me that we're running low on food again and we're going to have to go looking for more tomorrow."

She twists her shirt in her hands, humming as she thinks, letting her thoughts ramble out in a stream of consciousness, "If we all split up, we could hit more shops. Since we're no doubt going to start inviting more people, we're going to need food for them too - and more bottled water. Danma will probably say we need alcohol too, but he can gather that himself. We should really try again at getting one of those cars working; it'll be less tiring to drive as opposed to walking or biking everywhere, especially when you throw having to carry stuff all the way back to the hotel into the mix."

Ann and Niragi stare bewildered at her from where they're walking on either side of her. They exchange a look over the top of her head.

"That's what you're thinking about now? After you almost drowned?" Ann asks, her dark brows lifting.

She shrugs, "Someone's gotta think about it."

With another quiet hum, her mind whirls off again.

They're the last team to get back to the hotel. In the sitting area of the foyer, Danma and Mira are sharing a drink of something they've pulled from the bar and chatting. Morizono and Kuzuryu sit by them, but don't speak to each other nor do they join the other pairs' conversation. To no surprise from Maki, her brother isn't drinking. To even less surprise, he's the first to notice when the trio walks in.

He stands to cross the room to them, meeting them halfway.

The relief on his face gives way to concern when he sees Maki's damp state.

"Why are you wet?" Morizono asks, confusion painted across his expression.

"Rough game," she answers simply, then nods down towards his bruised knuckles, "What happened to your hands?"

"Rough game," he echoes back. With a sigh, he waves her off towards the newly working elevators, "Go get dried off, I'll bring you something to eat."

She puffs her cheeks slightly at his tone.

"Tonkotsu ramen?" she asks, knowing she'd stuffed at least one in the duffel bag the other day.

"You're dripping a puddle, go on," he says, but seems to yield to her request in the brief moment of silence before he'd answered.

She flashes a pleased smile and nods, strolling past him towards the elevator. As she waits, she sways from foot to foot, watching the line of lights go down from the upper floors down to the ground floor. It's much better than having to take the stairs. The elevator doors ding as they open and she steps inside, prods the button for the ninth floor and gives a short 'good night' wave as the doors close again. Morizono shakes his head as he watches her go, then looks back towards Niragi and Ann.

"Are you two alright?" he asks, though it seems like an afterthought.

"No worse than her," Niragi answers first, shoving his hand with the cut palm into his pocket. He holds out Maki's visa and card, and Morizono takes them. He's is quick to offer an explanation: "She didn't want them to get wet."

"Right, thank you," Morizono says, then turns to head off.

Ann gives Niragi a sidelong glance. There's a brief flick of her eyes towards his tucked-away hand then her brows lifting knowingly. Her expression speaks for her. Niragi looks at her, frowns, then quickly walks off towards the elevators to head to his own room.

By midmorning the next day, Maki's clothes are mostly dry. The heavy fabric of her pants is still slightly damp and feel uncomfortably cool and clammy against her skin. She trades her tank top out in favour of doing up a few buttons of her overshirt and tying the long, loose sides into a knot over her stomach. Twisting her long hair back into a low ponytail, she looks over herself in the mirror and sighs. 

Ann and Mira, and countless other women, had all learnt something she never had. The way they dressed and did their hair and wore their makeup, she didn't have the first clue how to even replicate it on herself let alone make it her own. In comparison to them, she looks plain, like a wallflower but without any of the 'flower' part. Maybe if she'd had a sister, maybe if she'd had a mother ...

She ruffles her fingers through her straight bangs, her mouth thinning in a line. It feels like such a silly thing to be worrying about - let alone thinking about - at a time like this. Still, she finds herself halting to stay and look closer at her reflection, over-lit by the bathroom light. The warm brown of her eyes and the ever-present dark circles beneath them, the spatter of uneven freckles and the soft ruddy pink of her cheeks, the crease of her downturned perpetually-pouting mouth.

Pulling her hairband out, she runs her hands through the messy waves of her dark hair and ties it back again, neater - or as neat as she can manage. Breathing out a huff, she forces herself away from the mirror, flipping the lights off as she leaves. 

Exiting her room, she makes her way to the elevator and takes it down to the ground floor. It's still rather early in the morning and the hotel airs on the side of eerie in its silence.

Pausing by the front doors, she checks to make sure she has everything she needs before leaving. She's made sure to clip the walkie-talkie onto her waistband and made a list the night before that now sits folded in her pocket alongside her room key.

"Heading out somewhere?"

She turns to find Niragi walking towards her. Holding the bags up, she swings them in her hand. He gives a short, acknowledging nod.

"Going by yourself? I thought you'd be sending us all off," he says with a small vague motion of his hands, like he's unsure of what to do with them or in need of something to fiddle with. Her eyes watch the shift of his long fingers. He's got nice hands, she thinks absentmindedly.

"Well, I'm not exactly in charge here," she replies with a shrug, "Easier to just do it myself instead of trying to boss people around."

He pauses, seemingly thinking, then takes the bags from her hands and moves to step out the front door. Her brows furrow and she follows out after him, her bag-emptied hand grasped around nothing, hovering in the air.

"What are y—"

"So where are we heading?" he asks, cutting her off as he heads towards the empty, quiet street. 

She hurries again to keep up with his long stride and walk beside him, a small confused crease still between her straight dark brows. Imperceptibly, he slows to meet her shorter steps, glancing sidelong down at her.

She stumbles to find the right words to express herself, doesn't find them, and eventually stammers out: "Niragi, you don't have to help me."

"I don't mind," he replies smoothly, "Besides, there's not much to do around the hotel. I haven't been much help with the cars anyway, so let me give you a hand."

She hums quietly and nudges her glasses up her nose, a small smile drawing to her face as she relents to just let him join her. 

Chapter Text

Strolling down the street, they walk side by side. Maki finds she still doesn’t know what to say. She runs through topics in her mind. Her eyes flit to the various plants growing on walls, ones she knew the names of and ones she didn’t; she considers books she’d read and movies she’d watched, music she liked and songs she didn’t; stories from her past and curiosity about his. She spins one of her silver rings in an endless circle around her finger. Though, even without words, it’s peaceful and she’s almost worried to break it by saying something stupid. 

The sky is a flat blue page, smudged across with thin white clouds and the sun shining a white-yellow summer glow. Her gaze frequently turns sidelong towards Niragi. Where her own dark hair turns a deep warm brown in the sunlight, his takes on a bluish iridescence where it catches the early morning light. His hair looks neat and deliberate in comparison to her own; the loose strand that falls down across his temple looks intentional, unlike her messy strands that have slipped from her hairband. 

His piercings glint in the light, and the glow shifts across their shiny surfaces as he glances at her. The set of his shiny ink-dark gaze on her lights a warmth in her, organ-deep and swirling through her chest, thin candleflame threads looping around the bones of her ribcage. She seizes the feeling in an attempt to snuff it, then flashes a lopsided smile as she meets his eye before she quickens her pace. 

“We’ve already gone through most of the convenience stores on this street, but I think I saw a grocery store around the corner,” she rambles on, breaking the quiet and flicking her hands in front of her in an attempt to stop from twisting her ring. “If we get the cars working, maybe we should try heading to Ginza. Would be nice to go there and actually get something instead of just looking around.” 

They turn around a corner and pass the window of a clothing store. Her pace slows, her face turning to look through the dusty glass. She thinks of her damp tank top back in her room, of the clammy chill of her pants and underclothes against her skin. She catches sight of her plain, slightly messy reflection angled in the glass. Her fingers fiddle at the tied knot of her shirt. 

“Why don’t you go in?” Niragi says, sliding the handholds of the bags up to the crook of his elbow as he loosely crosses his arm. She looks to him, he nods towards the shop, “Your clothes got messed up during that game, right?” 

She drops her hand away from the twisted knot of fabric. 

“It’s fine, they just need more time to dry.” 

Niragi glances down to the grocery store beside the clothing shop. 

“Go have a look, I’ll start next door.” 

With that, he turns and starts towards the grocer’s, leaving her standing by the window. She watches after him for a moment, then heads towards the shop’s door, propping it open as she walks inside. 

Immediately, she’s overwhelmed. The shop stretches out far before her, shadows curling in the corners, it’s bigger than it looks from the outside. There’s a stale mothball-y tang to the air that tickles her nose. She scrubs her knuckles into her scrunched nose as she walks further in. Stopping short in the middle of the frontmost aisles, she glances from side to side. 

Shaking her head, she puffs a sigh. It’s stupid to be worrying about her sense of fashion in times like these. She could be dead tomorrow or next week and what would it really matter what she was wearing. Turning aside, she finds a box of folded plastic bags behind the check-out counter and grabs one before trailing a slow circle around the shop. 

She digs through and finds a few pairs of pants in her size, shoving them into the bag. Further into the shop, she finds underwear and bras; grabbing a few, she hides them in the folds of the pants. Shirts she goes hunting for last. Back in the real world, she’d had a habit of stealing her brother’s shirts, everything fitting too large on her frame, half swallowing her. Few of the shirts she owned were actually in her own size. 

She strolls alongside the wall of hanging shirts, looking over each. Grabbing one, she folds it in a haphazard half and shoves it into her bag. Another few steps then she’s pushing onto her toes as she reaches for a shirt hanging on one of the higher pegs. It’s just out of reach, she’d have a better chance jumping to grab a handful of the fabric and just wrenching it down. 

Suddenly, an unfamiliar hand reaches past her to grab the shirt down. 

She jerks back in surprise, then jolts again when she sees the heavily-tattooed stranger. A free-standing shelf clatters noisily to the ground when she knocks into it. Her heart thumps, rabbit-fast. She stares at him. He stares back at her, unblinking. Her own hands clench into gripped fists, quick on the defensive as she’d always been taught, her eyes locked and flicking over him. 

His hand is extended towards her, holding out the shirt she’d been reaching for. 

He’s startling to look at. His pale skin is covered with dark, twisting tattoos. Even his face isn’t free of them, they encircle his eyes and flare away into sharp points, they carve over his cheekbones and there’s something like an abstract flame over his forehead. He’s completely bald, with no hint of hair over his head and void of any sort of facial hair except his brows. His lean shoulders are heavily slumped, but it’s easy to see he’d be on the taller side if he stood up straight. 

Over his shoulder, she can see the hilt of … something? It couldn’t possibly be an actual katana, could it? 

Slowly, realising he didn’t mean to attack her, she reaches to take the shirt from him, her fingers curling into the fabric. 

“Who are —”

Niragi rushes through the open door, his expression creased in concern. Maki looks across to him, meeting his gaze. He looks at her, then to the stranger whose hand has dropped, the shirt left hanging from her fingers now. Some kind of recognition flares into Niragi’s gaze. 

“It’s you,” he says, his tone surprised. The stranger looks over at Niragi, then nods shortly in acknowledgment. 

“You guys … know each other?” Maki asks. Her wariness continues to slowly subside, but there’s still an ache of tension in her shoulders as well as a dull thump of pain in her back where she’d hit the shelf. 

“We met in one of the games, before I met your brother,” Niragi explains as he walks further into the shop to stand at her side. Briefly, he glances at her, silently checking in with her, making sure she’s okay. She nods subtly, but her jaw is still slightly tightened. His expression creases as he thinks, looking back to the stranger. “His name … it’s Samura, right?” 

“You can call me 'Last Boss',” the stranger rasps, his tone quietly serious. Maki’s brows lift, but she supposes it’s not the craziest thing, not if Danma was going to be calling himself 'Hatter'. His pinpoint gaze shifts back to her. “I overheard … about the paradise …” 

A wrinkle forms between her brows and she pushes her glasses up. He’d … overheard? When? How long had he been listening in? And how hadn’t they noticed him? She hadn’t even noticed when he’d come into the shop, he’d been so quiet. He’s still so quiet now, it’s like standing near a ghost. A strange, tattooed ghost who is staring so wide-eyed at her that his pupils look like tiny dark pinpoints. His face seems almost frozen that way, expressively neutral but owley-eyed. 

“Did you want to come with us?” she offers finally. 

He nods once, a quick sharp motion. 

Well, they were supposed to be inviting people to the Beach at some point, why not start here with someone who was asking? 

“Then you’re welcome to come along, Last Boss.” She folds the shirt and tucks it into her bag, then extends her hand for him to shake. He eyes her hand, then shakes it shortly before letting go. His hand is surprisingly - though also not surprisingly - cool to the touch. 

With Maki finished shopping, they head to the grocer’s next door. It’s still quite heavily stocked, though all of the fresh produce has turned into sludgy piles of mold that only vaguely resembles whatever fruits and vegetables they were supposed to be before they rotted. There’s a smell to it that makes Maki’s nose scrunch, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the kitchen at the hotel had been before they’d cleaned it out. 

Last Boss is quick to understand what they’re doing and falls into easy tandem with Niragi, leaving Maki at the front of the store to pack food they brought up to her into the duffel bags and grocer bags she pulled from under the checkout counter. As Last Boss drops off another armful, she stares at the hilt of the sword peering over his shoulder. 

“Is that a real katana?” she finds herself as he turns to slump off. 

He turns back to look at her, then takes a step closer to her again. Wordless, he reaches back and pulls the sword from its cover. There’s a quiet hiss of metal as it’s unsheathed. Holding it horizontally before her, he angles the sharpened side of the blade away from her. She leans to look closer at it. It’s clearly sharp and the silvery blade glints in the low light. 

“Where did you get it?” She reaches out to run her fingertip a few inches along the blunt edge. 

“Found it,” he answers unremarkably. Seemingly not going to answer more, he leaves it at that, re-sheathing the katana and turning to walk off. She smiles, bewildered, and goes back to packing. 

Soon, she has a sizeable pile of bags beside her. The duffels are fully stocked too, and sit zipped and waiting on another checkout lane opposite her. The two men come back to where she’s standing and the trio look over their gathered supplies. 

“Think it’ll be enough?” Niragi asks. 

Maki leans onto her elbows beside the dead-screened register, dropping her chin into one upturned palm. 

“For now, at least. Not looking forward to hauling it all back though,” she says, frowning. With a quiet sigh, she hops over the checkout lane and dusts her hands off. There’s no avoiding it. They’re going to need to carry it all back, she just hopes the heat won’t be so bad. 

Stronger than he looks, Last Boss easily scoops both loaded duffel bags up, fitting the straps onto his tattooed shoulders. Maki and Niragi burden their arms with the rest of the bags. The plastic handles dig against the bare skin of her forearms. Balancing herself from foot to foot, she fits the bags into more comfortable positions then bobs her head in a determined nod. 

Leaving the grocery store, they trail out onto the empty street and turn down the route towards the hotel. Despite his slumping posture, Last Boss is utterly silent as he walks along, Maki can only just make out his padding footfalls behind her own and Niragi’s. She thinks to try and talk to him more, to figure him out and find out just how long he’d been watching them, but he doesn’t seem to be the chatty type. She doubts he’d actually answer if she asked anything anyway.

A few minutes later, the walkie-talkie crackles at her waist, Morizono’s voice soon pouring out of it. 

“Maki? Where are you?” His voice comes tinnily through the small speaker. 

She stops, glancing down and trying to figure out a way to angle her hands to be able to grab it without dropping any of the bags. There’s no chance, not with her arms so bundled with bags, she can’t even get close enough. 

“Niragi, can you grab that for me?” She turns towards him, moving one armful of bags aside so he had better access to it. 

He looks at her, then his gaze dips down to the walkie-talkie hooked onto her waistband, the black ruggedised plastic pressing against the bare skin of her hip. There’s a dark spot of a large freckle on her lower stomach, dotted on her skin right beside the corner of the walkie-talkie. Swallowing, his face flushes almost imperceptibly pink, but she’s too busy making sure she doesn’t knock him with the bags to notice. 

When she glances up towards his face, something she can’t decipher quickly twitches across his visage. Before she can examine it any closer, he notices her doe-eyed stare and masks the subtle expression. He shuffles the bag up his arm, the handles gathering into the crook of his elbow. Reaching out, he carefully plucks the walkie-talkie, avoiding both touching the bare skin of her hip and meeting her gaze directly. 

Thumbing the button, he holds it up for her to speak into it. 

“We were out getting more food, we’re heading back now,” she says, leaning in towards the microphone. 

There’s a pause on the other end. 

“'We'?” 

She tries to ignore his pointed tone, feeling a hot sting of embarrassment at his presumptiveness. 

“Me and Niragi.” 

Another pause of silence and she can almost hear the way the gears of her brother’s mind churn with judgment. That burn of embarrassment increases and she huffs out an exhale, avoiding glancing up to meet Niragi’s watching eyes. Before Morizono can say anything, she’s speaking again. 

“We’re on our way back, I’ll see you soon.” 

Their return is met with surprise when the others quickly realise Maki and Niragi haven’t come back alone. Morizono hops up to relieve her of some of her bags when he notices Last Boss. He rarely wore his emotions so plainly, but Maki knows what to look for - that slight widening of his eyes and the subtle flex of tension across his body. His surprise is easily evident to her. Discreetly, he reaches for her now bag-freed arm, a subdued protective action of trying to usher her closer towards him. 

“Make a new friend, Makina?” Danma asks as he approaches. 

His apprehension is just as obvious to her as Morizono’s is. He comes off as calm and collected as he usually is, smiling coolly and strolling along in a casual manner, but Maki can see the disturbed shock in the creases of skin around his eyes. 

Maki motions towards Last Boss with her freed-up hand. 

“This is supposed to be 'paradise', right? So shouldn’t we start inviting people?” She notes the way Danma’s eyes narrow minutely. It’s a satisfying feeling to be the cause of it. She steps back towards Last Boss, raising a hand to his sinewy bicep to usher him further into the hotel’s foyer. He slumps a few steps further inside, swaying slightly from the weight of the bags he was still carrying. Ann, Mira and Kuzuryu - who had all been keeping their distance - come slowly closer. Maki motions to him again, a light smile on her lips, introducing: “This is Last Boss.” 

She sees Danma’s brows quirk slightly. 

“There’s no issue, right, Hatter?” 

Her expression would look innocent to anyone who didn’t know her - but Danma did know her. She can see the slight tick of annoyance in his jaw as he fixes her with a quick look, then he eases back into that casual facade with his arms thrown open to greet Last Boss. 

“Of course not. Everyone will be welcome at the Beach,” Danma answers smoothly. 

Last Boss still hasn’t spoken and, given what she’s noticed about him so far, she doubts that he’s going to. She gives him a sidelong glance. His face is still expressionless, indecipherable. The dark contrasting tangle of abstract tattoos on his face don’t exactly help to read him, giving new angles to his already sharp features. He nods in response, looking blankly over everyone but doesn’t directly meet anyone’s eyes. 

“Come drop that stuff off,” Morizono says, breaking the growing stretch of quiet as he turns to lead them away from the entrance. 

Last Boss nods, shuffling the bag straps on his shoulders. She hears Niragi heave a sigh of relief, jostling the heavy bags hanging on his arms and rolling his shoulders as he hauls after Morizono. His steps are heavy, his slim frame weighed down by the bags. 

Since Ann has co-opted the kitchen for herself, they’d taken to storing the food in another room on the second floor, still in range of the restaurant dining area, the walls lined with roof-high wide shelves. They set the bags down on top of the large table they’d hauled into the middle of the room. Niragi sighs and wrings his arms out, finally free of the weight of the bags. He runs a hand over his head, brushing back loose strands of his dark hair from his face and pushing the longer length of it back over his shoulders. 

Maki sets her clothes bags down on the ground by the table and stretches her arms over her head, working the tightness out of her back and shoulders. She exhales quietly. 

“Help me unpack, Makina,” Morizono says, already looking into one of the bags. She grimaces at the tone of his voice, the use of her full name, already knowing what was coming. The air shifts with an unspoken tension. She can feel Niragi glance between her and her brother. Morizono glances back over his shoulder at him. “Niragi, mind showing Last Boss around?” 

Niragi’s gaze flicks to Maki, then back to Morizono as he nods. 

“Yeah, sure. No problem,” he answers. He moves to leave, then pauses and turns back to her. “Oh, here.” 

He holds out the walkie-talkie he hadn’t had a chance to give back earlier. She steps closer. 

“Thanks.” Her fingers brush the side of his hand as she takes the radio back from him. Electric sparks tickle up her hand, her fingertips warm where she’d touched him. He meets her eyes for a moment, dark ink-black pools meeting the warm brown of her own, then his hand drops away and he turns to leave with Last Boss. 

She watches him leave, the door swings closed behind them. 

Holding back a sigh, she turns to move back towards the table, falling into place at her brother’s side. She puts the walkie-talkie down and drags one of the bags closer to herself, starting to unpack it, piling up boxes and bowls in order of brand. The siblings stand in silence, the air between them straining with pressure. 

She pulls another bag closer, grips the plastic handles then huffs. 

“Just say whatever you’re going to say,” she snaps finally. 

He pauses and sets another box aside. 

“You and Niragi have been spending a lot of time together.” 

She feels her ears burn with embarrassment, “So?” 

“He’s a stranger.” 

There it is. That familiar overprotective caution. Her brother has always kept his circle tight, beneath a five-finger count. Him, her, Danma. Anyone else, he keeps further than arm’s length. Even Maki’s own circle has been restricted to that.

“I don’t trust him,” he continues gruffly. 

“You brought him here,” she agues back, affronted, a muscle in her jaw ticking in irritation. 

“I did - to help us get this place running, not to …” he trails off stiffly, leaving the rest of the words unsaid but she knows what he means. 

She bristles, huffing. He’s always treated her like this, like a child who doesn’t know any better and is in need of constant guidance. He seems to forget that she’s long since aged out of childhood and teendom. Still, the tone of his voice immediately makes her feel small and stupid, forcing her hackles to raise defensively. Her hands tense around a packet, the stiff plastic crinkling beneath her grip, her thumbnails dug in. 

“I’m not even doing anything. He was just helping me out, I didn’t even ask him to come with me - and nothing happened! Nothing is happening.” There’s a sharpness to her tone, her words slicing past her teeth. 

“Makina.” There it is. That long-suffering tone. 

“I’m not stupid,” she cuts in, knowing she’s being over-defensive, childishly reactive under the weight of his accusation, “I haven’t forgotten where we are or what’s happening. Do you expect me to just not interact with anyone? If that’s what you wanted, you should have thought about that before letting Danma convince you to go along with this whole 'paradise' idea.” 

“I’m just asking you to be careful.” 

Her mouth twists in a slight frown, frustrated but still understanding his concern. Ducking her chin, she focuses instead on unpacking the bags. She can feel the familiar solid presence of him at her side, but she doesn’t look at him. Nothing else is said between them. There’s nothing else to say. 

Bringing Last Boss in opens a kind of floodgate. By the next day, Danma is immediately eager to invite more people. It takes Morizono - with Maki’s pushing - to douse his excitement down to a manageable level. 

They’re all gathered into the conference room on the eighth floor, sitting around the long table - well, everyone except Last Boss who seems too uneasy to sit and instead leans his hands on the back of his chair as he stands behind it. Danma claims a spot at the head of the table, relaxing back in his chair. He drums his fingers on the wooden tabletop, energetic and over-eager. After explaining, his mouth is split in a wide grin. 

“What do you have in mind for us to do?” Ann asks finally, “We haven’t run into many people, not outside the games. People are too wary of each other, so they’re staying away.” Her gaze flicks briefly sidelong, then she shifts in her seat. “Last Boss, notwithstanding.” 

“Then perhaps it is time we enter the games again,” Mira presents smoothly, setting her intertwined, delicate hands on the table. 

“We all still have plenty of visa days left,” Morizono cuts in. Maki feels the way he glances at her, clearly as unenthusiastic about playing more games as she is. 

“Would you rather loiter outside the games and wait for whoever comes out instead?” Mira argues, her voice remains in that strange airily-pitched way but it takes on a more whetted edge. For the first time that Maki’s ever noticed, her dollish eyes narrow slightly. “People would be even less likely to trust someone too cowardly to even play the games.” 

“The games are dangerous, it’s safer not to play them,” Morizono immediately shoots back. 

Sitting between them, Maki feels like she’s in the literal middle of a battle and, while fiddling with the arm of her glasses, she shrinks in her chair as if to stay out their view. On Mira’s other side, Niragi leans back on the legs of his own chair to look at her while she grimaces at the bickering. 

“Mira has a point - people are more likely to trust someone who had their back and helped them win,” Ann agrees. Across the table, Mira directs a small pleased smile at her. When Ann notices, her mouth thins as she presses her red lips together, swallowing as she glances quickly away to break their met gazes. “Until we get this place 'off the ground', so to say, we can’t expect people to just trust us on our word alone.” 

“You did. You and Maki didn’t work together in your first game.” Morizono and Ann’s gazes lock, intense in debate. Their voices don’t raise higher than a few ticks, but there’s a sharpness that can be felt in the air. 

“Not everyone will be as curious as I was.” 

There’s a lull, then Mira claps. A smile pulls across her rosy lips. 

“Then it’s settled?” 

Morizono’s face scrunches in annoyance, then flattens into something harder to read. He grunts in reply and crosses his arms, yielding though he’s clearly not happy with the outcome. Maki exhales a quiet sigh, relieved that the tense arguing is finally over. 

At the head of the table, Danma is grinning widely again. His fingers drum faster on the wood. 

Chapter Text

By late afternoon, they split apart to head out into the city. They break into pairs; the siblings together, Niragi and Last Boss, Ann and Mira, and Danma and Kuzuryu. 

Clouds that stretch across the sky are stained purple as the sun drifts down beyond the horizon. The buildings cast long dark shadows as Maki and Morizono walk down the streets. The silence between them that would usually be comfortable has been edged with tension ever since their conversation the day prior. He hasn’t said anything more since then, but she could feel his judgement whenever she and Niragi were so much as in the same room, let alone talking to each other. 

She knows what goes unspoken by him. That he means to protect her, that he’s worrying about her like he always has. She doesn’t know how to explain that she doesn’t need the overbearingness, that he can be protective without being overprotective, that she’s an adult that can make her own decisions and suffer the consequences of making bad ones. 

Turning a corner, the city opens up to a park. Sparse trees stretch up towards the darkening sky. There’s spotlights set up, brightly lighting up what looks like a long obstacle course arranged through the park. Already waiting inside the park are a large group of people. 

“Looks like a spades game,” Maki says as they walk in. Morizono nods. 

“Maybe you should’ve kept training with me,” he says, but there’s a hint of familiar teasing in his voice. She smiles faintly. 

“Bet I can still keep up with you.” 

Making their way through the crowd, they find the table and register into the game. The game sorts them into a paired team. They step off to the edge of the crowd. Side by side, they move through preparatory motions, stretching. It’s familiar and she soon falls back into her old routine. Between stretches, she looks out over the group of players. There’s all manner of people milling around, different ages and genders. Nobody particularly stands out, but she supposes it doesn’t really matter in the larger scheme of things. 

“How many do you think we can convince?” she asks as she pauses to tie her hair back into a ponytail. 

“So long as we come back with somebody, I’m sure Danma will be happy.” 

She rolls her eyes at that, then perks to attention as pole-mounted speakers crackle to life. It’s another three of spades, so it’s likely to not be too hard. Good, then she can put her focus on the people. The rules are quickly doled out in a droning voice: complete the course and be the first to cross the finish line. Though it doesn’t seem to be too difficult a game, the course looks complex and by no means easy. 

She and Morizono are called to the starting line first and matched against another team. Taking a breath, she focuses. They just needed to make it through the obstacle course before their opponents did. 

The starting line awaits them, a blinking sign shining above it, calling them forward. The opposing pair walk up to it. They’re a pair of men, thin but not necessarily in-shape, clearly not the type to stick to a regular exercise routine. Morizono breaks from her side, walking over to the line. Maki pauses from following and looks to the rest of the waiting players. She needed to convince them somehow. As loathe as she is to think it, she wonders how Danma would do it. 

After a beat of thinking, she takes a deep breath and slips her glasses off, folding the arms in and tucking the lot away into her pants pocket, then she forces her tone to come off as confident. 

“Hey! We can show the winners to paradise, so be sure to do your best!” Maki hollers as she makes her way over to starting line, throwing an arm up to draw attention. It’s not often she speaks so loudly. Morizono quirks a curious brow at her as she steps up to his side and she shrugs, feeling embarrassed heat rush to redden her face, “Just some motivation.” 

There’s a loud blare from the speakers, indicating the start of the race, and she clears her mind to let instinct over. 

They win almost too easily. Maki almost feels bad for their opponents, since the siblings practically run circles around them. Still, as she runs, she has to convince herself that it’s just a normal training course, that the losers won’t die at the end and that the obstacles aren’t as actually dangerous as they look. It’s the only way she can make it through without her nerves taking over. Morizono crosses the finish line just seconds before Maki does. 

She leans slightly back, tilting her head skyward as she draws in a deep breath. A familiar burn flows through her body. It’s an enjoyable kind of ache, one she hadn’t realised she’d been missing. Adrenaline fizzes through her veins, shaking in her hands. Some part of her longs to keep moving. Morizono claps his hand on her upper back, a silent 'good job'. 

Readjusting her shirt back into place, she turns back just in time to see the losing opponents get eliminated. Red lasers slash down from the sky, shooting through the mens’ skulls. Their bodies drop, left to be little more than extra obstacles on the course. She bites back a sickened feeling at the sight, forcing it down. 

Shifting on her feet, she feels a crunch in her pocket and her stomach drops for an entirely different reason. Reaching into her pocket, she pricks her finger against a pointy shard of glass and hisses quietly. Carefully, she plucks her glasses out - or rather, what’s left of them. There’s a crack through one lens and the other is shattered out of the frame, leaving her with a pocketful of glass pieces. 

“Shit,” she bemoans, holding them up. Morizono looks at her and she frowns back at him. “I think I broke them going over that wall.” 

The starting horn blares again and another set of people start across the training course. She sighs and carefully turns her pocket inside-out, tipping the glass shards onto the grass before she tucks the slightly-bent frames back in. Looking back up to the current course runners, Maki’s slightly blurred vision tracks one of the players. He’s quick and nimble, darting through the course with nary a misstep; it’s almost like he’s flying. Nudging Morizono’s arm with her elbow, she juts her chin towards the player. 

“Check out that guy.” The player lunges up a wall without even using the rope, he vaults over the top and lands back on the ground with a kind of light-footed softness that had none of the heaviness of her or her brother. “Huh, you think he does parkour?” 

Morizono’s brow quirks, impressed. None of the other currently-running players move with the same speed and grace. Close to the finish line, the parkour player stops and glances back, seeming to notice that his partner has fallen behind. Racing back, he grabs her hand and hauls her after him towards the finish. His partner collapses to her knees past the finish line, hunching over and clutching a hand to her heaving chest. 

The nimble player seems unfazed by the course. There’s a thin sheen of sweat across his face that he swipes away with his forearm, and his breathing quickly evens. Finally not in motion, Maki has a chance to look at him closer. He’s on the shorter side, his dark gold-blond hair falls over his brows. His hands shift as he wrings them nervously. He briefly meets her eyes, seems startled to catch her looking, and then quickly glances away again. 

Watching the rest of the players run through, pair by pair, the siblings stand shoulder to shoulder. Morizono’s arms are crossed, though Maki wishes they weren’t. Her brother is an intimidating force, the hard set of his expression teamed with his crossed muscular arms only aid the effect - which doesn’t exactly make for a welcoming presence. With each new pair of winners, she can feel more and more eyes on her. Keeping her expression steady at ease, she pays them no mind as she watches the rest of the players through their runs, the amount of people over on the starting side dwindling. 

Soon, the game is over and the winning jingle plays. The obstacle course is littered with dead bodies and her stomach lurches at the sight of them. Will they stay there? Will somebody - the masterminds of these games - come move them away? What will happen to their bodies? All questions she knows will go unanswered, yet she can’t help but think them. 

Morizono gently nudges her arm and she turns to follow after him towards a small table off to the side. Their cards and visas print and she tucks her own away into her pocket. It still feels like a stupid, worthless prize for the price they pay to enter to the games. As they step aside to let the other winners claim their papers, one of them approaches the siblings. 

“What you said before - what did you mean by 'paradise'?” he asks, hesitation evident under the sternness of his voice. 

Maki eases a smile onto her mouth, trying to echo something of Danma’s calibre of casual self-certainty; still, she can’t help the way her hands clasp together in an anxious tick, her fingertips fitting between the points of her knuckles. 

“We would like to offer you all residence at the paradise known as the Beach,” she forces her voice to be louder so she can be heard, her usual monotone is forced away in favour of imitating something close to confidence. “We have food, water, electricity, -” The players seem to perk up at that, paying closer attention, “- and rooms where you can sleep in safety.” 

“What’s the catch?” someone calls. A few glance briefly to the speaker then quickly back at her. 

“No catch. We only wish to build … a community. A safe haven.” They’re Danma’s word. They feel wrong in her mouth, not so much rolling off her tongue as being pushed off. “We won’t force you to come, but all of you are welcome.” 

Some decline but most agree and soon Morizono and Maki are leading a group back onto the street and towards the hotel. 

The streets are dark as they walk. Many of the group are tired after the game and none of them speak. Maki, leading at the front by her brother’s side, is thankful that they can’t see her face now. Her faux confident expression has slipped to nothing, relaxed though not necessarily at ease. A calm zephyr blows through the street, skittering loose dry leaves across the concrete pavement and empty road. 

She hears the low, far-off rumble of something and stops short. Someone behind her almost bumps into her, mumbling a tired apology. A wrinkle forms between her brows, confusion staining across her face. Morizono looks back at her, his features creasing in concern. 

“Do you hear that?” she says, then before he can speak she makes a motion for him to shush. Straining her ears against the silence, she listens. Another long rumble, it’s a familiar sound. Suddenly recognising it, she cries “that’s a car!” and takes off running in the direction of the sound. 

Her brother shouts after her and she can hear the sound of his - and the rest of their group’s - following footsteps, but she doesn’t stop. After a few twists and turns between buildings, she finds herself out on the street again, the sound of the car louder. Her head turns on a swivel, trying to track it. 

A flash of bright headlights turn down the street and then, thoughtlessly, she’s lunging out onto the road. 

The car stops mere feet from her, screeching to a halt. The lights blind her and she throws a hand up to block it. The driver, an older man with grey-threaded hair, leaps from the car, the door swung wide. She stands in the headlights, chest heaving, but grinning in a way that must’ve seemed completely mad. 

“Are you insane?” the driver shouts. 

“You got a car working,” she answers breathlessly. He stares at her like she’s crazy and, after what she’d just done, maybe she is a little.

“Makina!” Morizono snaps from the sidewalk, his voice a twist of shock, worry, and anger at what he’d just seen her do. She ignores him, approaching the driver’s side, her hand briefly brushing the car’s warm hood. 

“Can you fix more cars? Can you teach people how?” she asks eagerly. There’s apprehension in the driver’s expression, so she continues. She lets Danma’s words spill out of her, all repeated compelling prose that doesn’t sound like anything she’d say herself. 

But it works. The man agrees. Maki’s face splits in a wider, breathless grin. 

It wasn’t a competition - though if it had been, Maki would call herself the winner considering she’d found someone with a working car. Still, she counts the amount of new people anyway. To no surprise, Danma and Kuzuryu had brought back the most, she and Morizono and Mira and Ann were tied. Niragi and Last Boss had come back only with a small handful, though Maki supposes that’s not overly surprising. Setting aside her growing affections for both of them, she’s not blind to the fact that they don’t exactly make for the most welcoming pair with their particularly intense appearances. 

Despite the excitement sparking in the air from the newcomers, the collective exhaustion doesn’t go unnoticed. All the deluxe rooms on the ninth floor had been filled, so Maki pulls keys to rooms on the lower floors and deals them out to the newcomers. Danma makes sweeping introductions and promises that they’ll be shown around the Beach’s facilities tomorrow morning. The group of newbies quickly take to heading to their rooms, staring around the lit-up hotel in awe. 

Come morning and Maki finds she quickly misses the peace of only having eight people at the hotel. As she heads down to the ground floor, there’s a crowd already ambling around the foyer. Danma arrives downstairs shortly after she does and he’s quick to address the people waiting. He’s cheery and smiling, with all the grace of a celebrity greeting fans. Maki finds herself falling back out of view, hoping to retain her wallflower status. This is Danma’s paradise after all. 

Breaking into smaller groups, they take the new people to tour around the hotel grounds. 

Maki tasks herself with writing down everyone’s names in her pocket notebook. She thinks about the people who had died in the games, the ones whose names had been lost. Didn’t they deserve to be remembered? She couldn’t save everyone, but she could do this, could keep track - better late than never. When they got back to reality, there would be a list of those who survived and who had been lost. 

Still, she finds herself swiftly exhausted by the new company. Her cheeks ache numbly from the smile she’d forced throughout her tour. Feeling awkward, she stammers, quiet and monotonous, through answering questions and giving explanations. More often than not, she feels like she’s making a profit in the business of losing interest. 

When she finally gets the chance, she escapes away to her office on the eighth floor and breathes in relief at the peaceful quiet. Peeling her hands from their tight grip on the doorjamb, she seats herself behind the desk and pulls a fresh notebook towards herself. Flipping it open, she pulls her pocket notebook out and starts to write the names neatly into the new notebook; she starts the list with the original eight of them, then continues on with everyone they’d just invited in. 

Her seclusion doesn’t last for long. A quiet knock announces Niragi at her door and as she glances up towards him, she smiles faintly in greeting. Her social exhaustion doesn’t extend to him, instead she finds herself eager to have his company, feeling a warm swell in her chest at the sight of him. Setting her pen down, she folds her hands on top of the notebook, carefully away from the pen marks to make sure she doesn’t smudge the names she’d just finished writing. Her fingers loosely intertwine. 

When she doesn’t shoo him away, he walks in, one hand tucked in the pocket of his pants. His gaze flicks around the office before finally landing on her. He stares at her a moment, then a kind of quizzical expression comes his features, his brows creasing. 

“What?” she asks, a small frown tugging at her mouth. 

With his free hand, he motions to her face. 

“What happened to your glasses?” 

“Oh.” She touches a hand beside her eye where the arm of her glasses would usually lay. “I accidentally broke them in the game last night. Had them in my pocket, jumped a wall, crushed them in the process.” 

He frowns back at her. 

“Will you be okay without them? In the games?” 

She shrugs, “Eh, my vision’s not that bad. More of an astigmatism problem, a little bit blurry, but I’ll be fine.” 

He nods shortly, then pulls his hand from his pocket and sets something small onto the edge of her desk before swaying his weight back heavier onto one foot. His hands tuck back into his pockets and he turns his gaze away from her to around to look around her claimed office again. 

Glancing away from him, she looks down to find a small baby penguin figurine sitting there. Reaching out, she picks it up, turning it in her hand. It’s only a couple inches tall and looks like something that could’ve come out of a blind box or a gachapon machine. Posed on its tiny feet with its flipper arms thrown up on either side, it’s made of slightly translucent vinyl. She smiles, rubbing her thumb over its smooth soft surface. It’s cute. 

“What’s this?” she asks, giving it a small waggle in his direction. 

“You like penguins, right?” His eyes slant towards her personal notebook on the desk, the one with the cartoon penguin on the pale blue cover. Her smile quirks slightly wider, her cheeks heating pink. 

“Yeah, I do.” She cradles the penguin into her palm, stroking her thumb against the figure’s gradient black and white side. “Thank you.” 

Standing, she turns towards one of the shelves against the wall behind her desk. She sets the penguin on the middle row of the shelf, angling it this way and that until she’s happy with the way it’s displayed. Smiling, she runs a fingertip over the penguin’s smooth round head. 

Looking back, she meets Niragi’s eyes, the smile still soft on her lips. Their eyes hold for a briefness. After a beat, he clears his throat and quickly breaks their gazes, casting a look around her office again. 

“I’ll leave you to your work,” he says, nodding a short farewell. 

She nods back, understanding though she’d prefer him to stay, and sits back behind her desk. After he leaves, she rests her chin on her knuckles, turning her chair around to glance towards the penguin sitting on her shelf. The smile grows back on her lips. 

“Cute,” she murmurs to herself. 

Shaking it off, she flexes her hands and picks her pen back up, returning to her note-taking. 

'Paradise' takes off in the days that pass after they welcome the newcomers. Moments of peaceful silence are hard to come by, but Maki supposes that the sounds of joy aren’t the worst sounds the air could be filled with. Still, she finds herself seeking to stay on the outside. She knows the names of people, but little more. Most she greets with short nods before she’s hurrying away somewhere else. She’s always looking for something to do. 

She takes notes as the car driver - whose name she finds out is Yarita - fixes up cars. It’s complicated and her notes are overly detailed and she quickly decides to leave fixing the cars to people who understand it better. Soon enough, they have a sizeable number of working cars parked in the Beach’s outer lot and garage, and gathering resources becomes a whole lot easier as they spread out beyond the streets of Setaygaya. 

Danma is cheery and welcoming and the life of the party, especially after he does a collection run to gather up trunks-full of alcohol. It’s almost frustrating how easy he takes to it. There’s no manner of awkwardness with him, it’s as if he’s made for it. 

Morizono, like his sister, tends to stick to himself unless Danma is dragging him along. He falls back instead on routine - his work-out routine that is. There’s a small gym at the hotel and Morizono treats it as his own, so Maki always knows where to look when she wants to find him. 

She also notes how much closer Ann and Mira seem to be, if Ann wasn’t alone or Mira wasn’t with Kuzuryu, they were hanging around together; Maki feels like an odd duck around swans when it comes to them. 

Niragi and Last Boss stick to themselves too, seeming disinterested in getting close with any of the newcomers. Sometimes they head out together into the city, taking a car out on supply runs, whether that be for food or water or fuel or anything else that gets requested. Maki sees them sometimes, sat together in either the ground or second floor seating areas, sometimes drinking or eating, Niragi often the one talking while Last Boss quietly listens. Often she thinks to go over and join them but then her nerves get the better of her and she decides not to. 

As she strolls through the hotel, she hears raucous laughter from outside, from around the pool. She pauses a moment to listen to it. Laughter and splashing and someone has rigged up a bunch of stereos to loudly play music. The song bounces in through the open doors. It’s not her style, but it feels like it’s been so long since she’s heard music. If she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend she’s back in the real world. Her chest hurts with the thought. 

Taking a breath, she refocuses. There’s still work to be done, still jobs to do. 

Marching off out one of the other pairs of doors, she’s armed with a shovel, garbage bags, and a hefty pair of scissors as she stands at the edge of an overgrown garden bed. She’s never been much of a gardener, knowing little more than what she’d read about in books and barely managing to keep small plants in pots alive within her home. Looking at the gardens now, she realises she has quite a bit of work ahead of her and she doesn’t even know where to start. 

Sighing, she dumps the shovel on the sitting edge of the raised garden bed with a clang. It’s hard to tell what’s weeds and what’s something propagated. She steps up onto the garden edge and sets her hands on her hips. There’s some plants she recognises but many more that she doesn’t. Turning in a slow circle, she realises just how big of a job it’s going to be. There’s many garden beds in this area and it’s only one of the multiple private gardens around the hotel. 

Clapping her hands together, she puts the feeling aside. The work has to be done, she just has to get started somewhere. 

Crouching into the dirt, she digs through and rips out what she’s sure are weeds, tossing them to the ground outside the flowerbed. It’s long, tireless work and she quickly feels sweat bead on her skin, dampening her nape and rolling down her spine. A flash of red spindly petals catches her attention as she pauses to catch her breath. 

Her brow furrows. Shifting to kneel, she pushes the fronds of a bush aside to uncover a growing cluster of red spider lilies. Her stomach turns at the sight of them and she sets her jaw tight. Old stories flutter to the forefront of her mind, coaxing superstition. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she grits out at the blooms. 

Reaching, she grabs a handful of flowers by the stems and rips them out of the soil. Over and over, she yanks out the lilies, throwing them back into the pile of weeds. 

She works until she’s exhausted and then keeps going. All the while she can still hear the music and laughter just around the bend. People pass by the open doors to the garden, but nobody comes out to see her, nobody speaks to her. She just keeps her head down and works, slick with sweat, her long hair mussed, her hands crusted in dirt and bleeding slightly from nicks. 

By the time she’s finally done, she’s filled up multiple garbage bags with torn-out weeds and another set of bags with red lilies. She can’t stand to keep looking at them. She doesn’t want to think about how many more are in the other gardens. 

Twisting the knotted ends of the bags around her fists, she gathers them up and drags them to the large dumpsters at the back of the hotel. Her pants and shoes are caked in dirt as she hauls along, her chest heaving with each tired, ragged breath. She tosses bag after bag into one of the dumpsters, trying to let each one take her uneasy feelings with it. 

As the last bag drops into the dumpster, she doesn’t feel any better. 

She wrings her dirty hands and the slightly bleeding cuts sting. She doesn’t feel any better as she leaves the dumpster and tidied garden behind her. She doesn’t feel any better after she showers and scrubs off all the muck until her skin is pink. 

Sitting on her bed, her foot taps as she sticks plasters over the worst cuts on her hands. Tossing another wrapper aside, she sighs and drops her face into her hands. They were just flowers, people assigned them unlucky stories like anything else, like numbers and spiders at night. That’s all it is. 

Despite how tired she knows she should be, she finds that she isn’t. Her nerves have her set on edge. Huffing another sigh, she stands and shoves her socked feet into her shoes before leaving her room. 

Heading downstairs, Maki’s attention is pulled as someone calls out to her. 

Shaking herself from her singleminded pursuit of the parking lot, she looks up to see Niragi, one hand lifted in a wave at her. He and Last Boss have situated themselves in the indoor seating area, where flashing neon lights are shining in through the open doors. Redirecting herself, she walks over to them. Last Boss’ katana lays across one of the short tables, flanked by a couple of unopened beer cans. Last Boss fixes her with a long staring look and a short nod that she’s come to know as a greeting from him. She quirks a small half-smile in response. 

“You heading out somewhere?” Niragi asks, motioning toward where she’d been hurrying off. 

He’d seated himself on one of the wide arms of the couch as she approached to lean on the back of a couch opposite them. The red spider lilies flash quickly back into her mind, staining across the front of her thoughts and bringing the high-strung nerves back with them. Her smile pinches slightly and she glances down at her hands, already absentmindedly twisting one of her rings. 

“I just … need to get out of here for a little while,” she says, a faint desperation shining in her eyes, “We have working cars now, thought I’d go for a drive.” 

Niragi’s eyes cast over her. Twisting rings on her cut up hands, the stain of dirt under her short nails, her glassy eyes underlined with weary circles. 

“Do you want some company?” he asks. 

She wants to simply say 'yes', she wants to ask him to come along with her, ask him to take her out into the night and drive far away from this place with it’s too-loud crowd and jobs to be done and red flowers - but she could never leave her brother, and her brother would never leave without Danma. 

So instead, she flits her hands out, smiling small, “I don’t want to steal you away if you’re having fun here.” 

“Last Boss doesn’t mind,” Niragi answers, then glances at him, “Right?” 

Last Boss simply moves to grab another beer, unbothered and shrugging the curve of his ever-drooping shoulders. 

“I prefer my own company,” he rasps in what Maki realises is supposed to be a joke despite the utter lack of change in his tone. Her smile quirks lightly. 

Niragi hops up from the arm of the chair, casually motioning for her to lead the way. 

Chapter Text

Making their way out to the parking lot, Maki casts her gaze around. A lot of cars have been moved out and others that they’ve fixed up have been moved in. There’s plenty of usable ones now, it’s just a matter of picking which she wanted to drive around in. She goes looking for a particular one she’d seen brought in. Passing down the large middle aisle, she throws glances from side to side until she stops at a car, smiles, and heads for the driver’s side. Niragi quirks a brow, but still crosses around to the passenger side, looking over the roof at her. 

“A Skyline?” he quips. 

“You don’t like Skylines?” she shoots back with an easier smile. She raps her knuckles on the roof with a dull thud, “And this one’s special. 60th limited, you can tell from the blue pearl body colour.” 

He seems impressed, if not a little amused. 

“I didn’t think you were into cars.” 

She tilts her head from side to side, “Well, I’m not. Not really. It’s just …” 

“Details are important?” He finishes for her. 

She smiles slightly wider, then shrugs, “And I like the colour.” 

With that, she hops into the car and pulls the keys from the cup holder. Niragi huffs a short laugh and follows suit, closing the passenger side door behind him. Pulling out of the park and then out of the lot, she revs the engine and curves the car onto the street. 

The city lights up under the headlights, the brightness flaring off tall windows and abandoned cars. Maki runs the car through the streets, pressing the accelerator down long stretches of empty road. She speeds along, a freeing exhilarating feeling filling her from the inside, all the way into her fingers and toes. Beside her, Niragi laughs as she takes a squealing sharp corner, the back wheels slipping across the road. 

She doesn’t know how long she speeds around for, but soon she slows down to a more casual pace, curving to drive up through the city. A more at-peace exhale passes her lips, her hands finally loosening in their tense grip on the steering wheel. She brushes her hair back from her face. 

“Feeling better?” Niragi asks after a beat. She glances at him and he motions to her sticky-plastered hands. “I saw you in the gardens earlier and then you seemed upset and now … this.” He motions to the car and the dark stretch of road before them. 

She thinks about telling him about the spider lilies, about their supposed unluckiness and death associations, the way they’d set her on edge when she’d found so many growing in their midst. Then she thinks it’d be stupid to. It’s such a silly thing to be worried about. There’s already so much death with the games, of course there’d be red spider lilies around, but … they’d been growing so close. 

“I didn’t want to do it, you know? This whole 'Beach' thing,” she confesses quietly, “It was Danma’s idea and he convinced Mori and I just got dragged along into it.” 

“So why do you do the most work? All your notes, the cleaning, the gardens, thinking about when the food’s running low.” 

“Someone has to do it.” 

“And that someone has to be you?” 

She shrugs, “Who else is going to do it?” 

“You could ask for help.” 

His words go unsaid: you could ask me for help. 

She just shakes her head, wetting across her bottom lip with her tongue. It didn’t feel like asking, it felt more like bossing people around and she’d never been the 'leading role' type. At her job back in the real world, she worked mostly alone too. Here at the Beach, they’re easy enough jobs, things she could do herself. 

“I like to keep busy,” she answers, forcing a small smile. “You mind if we keep driving around for a while? I don’t want to go back yet.” 

“We can stay out as long as you want,” he answers easily. 

They keep driving along through the wards. The radio only plays static so they’re left in comfortable silence. She’s only got half an idea about where they are, the city looks so different with no lights or nightlife. They’ve likely left Setagaya by now, possibly gone right through Suginami too so they’re probably closer to the upper reaches of Nerima. It’s not long before her face is scrunching in confusion and she slows the car. 

Outside, the road disappears into what looks like the opening of a forest. Tall dense trees stretch towards the dark sky, casting long shadows and leading into what looks like purely inky blackness. The car’s bright headlights almost completely disappear into it. 

“What … is that?” she asks, “We should be near Nishitokyo, right?” 

Niragi sits up straighter in his seat, his expression equally confused as he leans to look out the windshield. She bumps her knuckles against his bicep, then motions for the glove compartment. 

“Pass me the flashlight out of there,” she says. 

His gaze snaps to her, concern mixing with his confusion. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks, but still shifts forward to rummage through the glove compartment. He pulls out one of the spare flashlights that she’d stashed away in a number of the working cars and hands it to her. 

“I’m just going to have a look.” 

She leaves the car in park, headlights on, as she hops out. Walking towards the edge of the forest, she clicks the flashlight on and shines it into the deep shadows. Niragi steps out, his pace hastening to reach her side before she gets too close to the suddenly-sprouted forest. 

“Makina,” he says cautiously. 

She keeps turning the flashlight beam around the forest, inching slowly closer to the wide dark opening. Somehow it seems even quieter than the empty city. Niragi grabs her arm, catching her by the elbow before she steps into the reaching shadows. When she glances back at him, his face is tight with wary tension and he slowly shakes his head, a silent plea that she not go in. 

“How deep do you think it goes?” she asks, shifting from foot to foot as she tilts to look into the depths. 

Taking a step back, the weight of Niragi’s hand still warming her elbow, she aims her flashlight along the line of trees. It stretches far down the street, further than the light of her flashlight can reach. How far did it go? How much of Tokyo did it encircle? They didn’t have enough fuel in the tank of the Skyline to drive that far and find out tonight. 

An unsettling feeling shivers up her spine as she looks into the void of the forest. Taking another step back, she pulls Niragi along with her, sliding her hand to grab his. 

“We should head back now.” 

“Yeah.” 

The tension slowly dissipates the further they get from the strange forest. She picks up speed again down some long stretches of road, trying to recapture that freeing, casual feeling from earlier in the night. Niragi’s smile quirks back, but it’s clear that the forest is still on both their minds. He winds the window half down, the cool breeze blowing his dark hair back. 

The Beach rises up in the distance. They can see the glowing aura slicing through the dark before the hotel building even comes into view. The lights starburst out, fuzzed by her astigmatic vision. It’s the only bright point in Setagaya, in maybe the entirety of Tokyo. 

She turns the car into the garage lot, sliding into a park. Leaning back against her chair, she closes her eyes and lets her hands slip off the steering wheel and into her lap. Her exhaustion is finally catching up to her, making her limbs feel heavy. She could’ve fallen asleep right here. Exhaling a deep breath, she smiles lightly towards Niragi then turns and hops out of the car. 

They’re greeted by the low continuous buzz of music from the outside party as they walk inside the foyer. Leaned against the back of one of the couches by the seating area, Morizono is waiting for them - or rather, her. His arms are crossed over his broad chest. It quickly hits Maki that she hadn’t told him where she was going. She touches her hand to her waistband over her hip. No walkie-talkie. Shit. 

Her brother pushes off the couch, quickly making his way across to them. At her side, she feels Niragi stiffen, shifting minutely, putting a quick step of distance between them. 

“You didn’t take your radio,” Morizono says simply as he stops in front of them. His gaze is set only on Maki. Her expression must tell him that she’s surprised at his lack of overprotective reaction because he continues, “Last Boss told me you two went out.” 

She exhales a short relieved sigh. 

“I’m sorry, it just slipped my mind, I just wanted to go for a drive.” What did it matter now though after what they’d found? “Mori, we found something … weird.” She doesn’t know how else to describe it. 

Taking a breath, she starts to explain everything: the dark forest seeming to have sprouted out of nothing, the way it swallowed up light and the strange quiet, the way they couldn’t see any remnant of Nishitokyo. Morizono stands and listens. When she finishes, his gaze searches her face then he rumbles out a breath. 

“It’s late. Go to bed. We’ll call a meeting in the morning and try to figure out what to do about it - if we can do anything,” he says. 

By mid-morning the next day, the original eight of them are sat around the table in the large conference room. Maki reiterates what she’d told Morizono the night before, Niragi backs her up with his own account. The rest listen closely - well, everyone except Danma, who is clearly nursing a hangover and only partly listening. Ann sits up straighter, leaning her elbows on the table, her sharp eyes curious. 

“Nishitokyo … that’s just outside the special wards,” Ann murmurs thoughtfully. 

“What are you thinking, Ann?” Danma asks, a kind of weariness to his tone, rubbing his eyes under his sunglasses. 

“We should try and find out how far this 'forest' goes - like Nishitokyo, Komae isn’t a part of the wards either, and it’s close by,” she explains while tapping the fingertips of one hand on the table. “If I can get a few groups together, I could send people to check out the rest of the wards’ edges, maybe send a few people inside the forest to see if we can get through it.” 

“Is that safe?” Maki asks, frowning slightly. “I mean, it just feels … off. There’s something really weird about that forest.” 

“Going through the forest might be our way out of this world, our way back to the real world,” Ann answers, “And if it’s not, we should at least know if we’re trapped in here.” 

Frowning still, Maki looks unconvinced, but she says nothing more on the matter. They didn’t know enough about this world, they didn’t know what would be dangerous or not, if they’d be playing with fire by going into the forest. Everything happening is already so unexplainable. Yet she can’t say that Ann is wrong, they do need to know if freedom is just beyond the trees or if they’re truly confined within the Tokyo wards. 

“Well, that’s settled then? Does anyone else have anything they want to talk about?” Danma drawls out, his sunglasses slipping down his nose, his dark tired eyes slightly bloodshot. Nobody answers. “Fantastic, then I’m going back to bed.” 

With a groan, he nudges his glasses back up and rises from his chair at the head of the table, strolling away out the door with his robe swishing behind him. Maki rolls her eyes, how typical that he didn’t stick below his limit and got so drunk the night prior that now they’re left to make decisions without him. Shaking her head, she stands, stepping around her chair to push it in. The rest start to move as well, the sounds of scraping chairs and shuffling feet filling the room. 

Ann, Mira and Kuzuryu gather into a small group, discussing ideas, plans of where to send people and how much fuel they’d need and which cars would be best to use, querying about whether they’d be able to off-road any cars through the forest or if they’d need to hike. 

Maki tunes it out as she leaves. She wants no part of it. The forest gives her a bad feeling, so if she can help it, she’d prefer to stay far away from it. 

A week quickly passes, more people join the Beach, word of mouth spreads through the games the residents play. Danma still wants more; it’s Kuzuryu’s idea to use the radios, the taxi ones specifically, and - after some trial and error until she decides what she likes what she’s written - Maki records a message to play on repeat. Even more people come, enough that Maki’s main notebook is almost two-thirds filled by the time the rush of people becomes a trickle. 

The Beach gets even louder. Even nine floors up, she can still hear the blare of music throughout the night. It gives her a headache; some nights, she can barely sleep. Those nights she spends longer in her office, reworking her notes and longing for the aisles of her bookshop where she’d at least have something new to read. 

With the swathes of people coming in, there also comes a problem they hadn’t considered: in-fighting. Violence runs quickly rampant; it feels like every night, a new fight breaks out. Maki is starting to feel sick of seeing so many bruised knuckles and bloodied faces. Danma does nothing when she finally complains to him, instead citing the alcohol and the drugs and the games as excuses, waving her away. 

As a result, Maki spends more and more time away from the Beach when she can get away. When she can’t, she sticks to her office or her room or a quiet corner of the second floor annex. She’s not the only one seeking the old peace either; Ann tends to stick to her kitchen-office, Mira and Kuzuryu drift around but they seldom joined the party downstairs by the pool, Niragi and Last Boss preferred the foyer, a party-of-two drinking in the quieter seating area. 

The latter pair at least make an effort to try and stop the fights; any that they can’t manage themselves, they call in Morizono for. His intimidating presence makes for quick work, he barely has to get actually involved. Maki has had to step in to stop a few fights herself; a well-timed kick to the back of someone’s knee often stopped fights in their tracks - or stopped them for long enough that Maki could get words in. 

Ann gathers volunteers and sends groups off to the edges of the wards; Maki barely manages to claim the Skyline and steal away the keys before it can get snatched up. When the volunteers come back, they all say the same thing: the Tokyo special wards are surrounded by a thick, dark forest. Despite Maki’s continued vocal apprehension, Ann still has plans to send people into the forest to search for a way through. 

With no success in convincing her otherwise, Maki decides to just keep herself busy and leave the whole forest situation to Ann. 

Turning the car into her usual parking spot, Maki kills the engine and tightly squeezes her hands around the steering wheel. It’s barely midday but she can already hear the too-loud music, even this far away in the garage. Tucking the keys away into her pocket, she turns towards the vacant passenger side. The seat is piled up with notebooks, folded maps, and a plastic bag packed full with various colourful stationary sits on the floor. 

Gathering it all up into her arms, she hops out of the car and nudges the door closed with her hip. She strolls across the garage, then pauses as she hears something. Quieter music, an older tune, something from the 70s or 80s. She turns to follow the song. As she gets closer, she realises she recognises the song playing from a small stereo propped near the open hood of a car. Yarita is leaned over in the hood. 

“Kizudarake no Lola,” she says, just loud enough to be heard over the song. Yarita shifts back, glancing towards her. There’s a hint of surprise across his expression. She motions to the stereo, smiles, “My boss is a huge fan of Hideki Saijo.” 

His surprise turns to something more amused at that. 

“Working on more cars, Yarita? You should take a break. Paradise and all,” she says, balancing her armfuls of maps and notebooks. The plastic bag’s handle digs into the crease of her elbow. Yarita cleans his hands on a rag, smiling in a way that creases the wrinkles of his face. He leans his hip against the hood and nods towards her encumbered arms. 

“Considered taking one yourself?” he replies back. She smiles, shrugging in a 'you got me' sort of way. “I’ve got a guy helping me out anyway - Joe, good kid, worked with cars too back in the real world, he ran off to grab me some extra tools.” 

Maki nods shortly. Joe was a newer resident, he’d come in with a group from a clubs game. As far as she knew, he was nice, a pretty decent guy who kept out of trouble - at least in comparison to the people who were getting into fights. He was a little dense, and on the quiet side. 

“Ah, well, make sure he takes a break too,” she says, a little more insistent. He makes a vague sound and waves her off, but there’s amusement glinting in his eyes and a slight smile on his lips. Readjusting her armful once more, she continues on her way towards the garage doors. 

There’s a bustle of energy inside the hotel. It’s overwhelming, the noise and the excess of people makes unease fizzle beneath her skin. Maki pauses in the doorway, taking a breath. Gathering her stuff closer to her chest, she presses on, snaking her way through the crowd. Ducking around a pair of people as she turns a corner, she bumps into someone and the armful of books and maps fall to the ground. 

“Shit,” she mutters quietly and drops quickly into a crouch to start picking her stuff up. 

“Oh fu-” the person says, cutting themself off as they kneel. 

Maki glances up to see a familiar face. The parkour-runner guy from her game the other week. As she stacks notebooks into her arms, she scours her mind for his name. All the while, the traceur stammers out apologies, neatly tapping maps and notebooks into piles. His bleached-golden hair flops into his face, his brown eyes are blown wide in surprise beneath his fridge. 

“Yukimaru Atsuki, right?” she says. 

He seems surprised, blinking owlishly at her. 

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” he replies. She smiles, thumbing out the crease at the corner of a folded map before she sets it atop her pile. 

“You made quite the impression in that game.” 

He scrubs a hand through his hair, mouth quirking awkwardly. 

“That’s embarrassing,” he murmurs, then shakes it off and motions to all of her stuff, “Do you need some help? You always seem so much more busy than anybody else.” 

Maki smiles lightly, shrugs, “I suppose I am - but it’s fine, really.” 

Reaching out, he takes her armful of books. Her hands hover, suddenly empty. The plastic bag of stationary swings at her elbow. Yukimaru’s smile twitches awkwardly again. 

“Please give me something to do. Having nothing to actually do everyday is driving me a little -” he shrugs, the wiggly motion across his shoulders jostling the pile of books, “- nuts? I don’t mean to sound desperate but,” He laughs shortly, expression pinching, “I am.” 

She glances quickly over him. As far as she knew, Yukimaru was a nice enough guy, a little quiet, but nobody seemed to have any issues with him. Despite his confidence when he’d been running through the obstacle course, he seems far more nervous now. In a way, it’s kind of endearing. 

She thinks about directing him Ann’s way, telling him to volunteer and to join up with the forest situation groups - then she remembers looking into the dark of the forest and has to restrain a shiver. The thought of bossing someone around still doesn’t sit too well with her, but she supposes an assistant of sorts wouldn’t be so bad if it keeps him busy and out of the forest. 

“Well, if you insist, I’m sure I can find something for you to do,” she says with another small smile, then motions for him to follow her. 

After dropping off all the supplies Maki had gathered in her office, she and Yukimaru make their way back downstairs. Maki plans on checking over their gathered food reserves, to figure out what they’re running low on. There’s always something they need more of. As they walk, Yukimaru rambles on about parkour after Maki had asked about it. She finds his slight stammer goes away as his eagerness comes out, though he still trips over some words and speaks rather quickly. 

He’s talking about specific techniques as they turn onto the 'restaurant' area on the second floor. Argumentative shouting quickly draws Maki’s attention and Yukimaru goes quiet, both confused as they look towards the source of the sound. 

A pair of men are shouting at each other. It didn’t look like it had come to blows yet, but from the tightening of their fists, it’s doesn’t look like a physical fight is far off. Maki scrapes her memory for their names, mentally ticking them off; Iwanuma to the left, a vein popping in his throat, and Tanno to the right, yelling. Between them, Niragi is trying to diffuse the situation, his face pinched with clear annoyance. Last Boss is standing off to the side, watching closely with his pinpoint eyes. 

It happens so quickly that Maki almost misses exactly what happens. 

Tanno lunges for Iwanuma and Niragi gets in his way, pushing him back to put distance between them. A flash of anger crosses Tanno’s face and he redirects it from Iwanuma. Snap-quick, he lashes out and cracks a rough punch into Niragi’s face. Niragi doesn’t even have a chance to defend himself. The punch sends him stumbling back with a shocked shout, his hand flying up to his punched nose. 

“Hey!” Maki’s shout breaks across the crowd. 

She can feel anger bubbling under her skin as she marches forward. Her steps are loud on the tiles as the crowd goes quiet, they part wordlessly for her to pass by them. Her reputation precedes her: Aguni’s sister, with the potential to be as dangerous as him. Yukimaru follows quickly behind her, quieter, light on his feet. 

Niragi’s dark eyes are watery as he looks at her. She meets his gaze, her eyes dipping as he wipes blood from beneath his nose. That kindled angry heat flares, scalding all the way through her chest and up her throat. 

“What is going on here?” Her tone is scathing and steady, completely unlike the calmer conflict-resolving voice she usually used in situations like this. It’s a roughness more suited to her brother, but she speaks it with the a same hard weight. Her eyes flick sharply between Tanno and Iwanuma, glowering. As Tanno’s hand flies up to jab a finger in Iwanuma’s direction, he starts to stutter out a weak excuse and Maki’s mouth sets in a line. “Enough. I don’t want to hear it actually. This is stupid.” 

She cuts off when she sees the flash of something in the corner of her eye. There’s something sharp in Iwanuma’s hand. His foot shifts to move towards Tanno. Maki moves on instinct, her focus solely on disarming him until she hears the knife go skittering across the tiles. Her hand still gripping Iwanuma’s wrist, she twists his arm roughly behind his back. Yukimaru dives for the knife, quickly snatching it up before anyone else can think to grab it. 

Last Boss’ katana has left its sheath with a metallic hiss, its point aimed at Iwanuma’s throat. Maki meets Last Boss’ eye, she tilts her head in a silent quick order for him to back down. His gaze flicks to Iwanuma, pressing the blade a little closer, the point curving under his chin - a clear wordless warning - then he nods shortly to Maki and steps back. He twists the katana up and over his shoulder, sheathing it smoothly. 

Shifting, she shoves Iwanuma aside, away from Tanno who’s staring wide-eyed. 

“Enough,” she says again, the steadiness of her tone lilting under her heavy breath. Reaching over, she snatches the knife’s sheath from where it pokes out of Iwanuma’s pocket. Her voice rises to be heard by the gathered crowd. “This is over, everybody go back to whatever you were doing before this nonsense. Tanno, Iwanuma,” she turns her gaze between them, “Both of you stay away from each other.” 

After a beat, the crowd quickly disperses. Tanno’s girlfriend, Kosugi, grabs his arm to pull him away. She looks green with anxious nausea. Iwanuma grunts under his breath as he rubs at the arm she’d twisted perhaps a fraction too roughly, but walks away too, fortunately in the opposite direction of Tanno. Soon, the restaurant area is empty. 

Maki exhales a sigh and rubs her free hand over her face. 

“Yukimaru, the knife?” she asks, shifting her gaze to him and holding her hand out. He nods quickly, twisting the thin blade towards himself to pass her it by the hilt. She slides the knife back into the sheath, then turns the lot of it in her hands before shoving it into the deep pocket of her baggy pants. 

Turning, she looks towards Niragi, stepping quickly towards him. 

“Niragi, are you okay?” The anger seeps out of her eyes, her gaze quickly softening into concern. “Let me see.” 

“It’s fine,” Niragi says, his voice thick, but he doesn’t resist and lets her move his hand away from his bloody nose. Her hand gently touches the curve of his pale cheek, careful like she’s handling porcelain as she tilts his face. A small frown deepens her perpetual pout. 

“Come with me,” she says, her hand dropping from his cheek to take his, her fingers sliding along his palm. Her eyes flick towards Yukimaru. “Do you mind starting on checking the reserves yourself? We shouldn’t be too long.” 

Yukimaru nods quickly, then Maki turns and pulls Niragi along. 

Chapter Text

Maki’s hand is warm in Niragi’s. Her skin is soft and smooth, with the exception of a few small callouses and thin healing cuts over her fingers. Even on the elevator ride up, she doesn’t release his hand - but she doesn’t look at him either. Her expression - the slight crease of her brow and the purse of her lips - is something he can only figure out to be frustration, but it doesn’t seem to be aimed at him. 

The elevator doors open and she pulls him along to her room. She sits him on the edge of her bed and then disappears into the bathroom. While she’s in there, he takes the time to casually glance around. Her room, like Maki herself, smells lightly of jasmine and sandalwood. Her bed covers are tossed up over the mattress in a haphazard attempt at neatness; there’s a small stack of books sitting on her coffee table though he’s unsure if she’s even had time to read any of them between all of her jobs and the games; one of her button-up shirts is thrown over the back of the couch. 

She returns with a dampened washcloth and cradles his face in her warm hand again. Gently, she wipes the blood away from where it dripped to his upper lip, her gaze softly downturned to him. 

He considers taking the cloth from her, telling her he can do it himself. How many times has he done it before? Sitting alone in the bathroom or his bedroom of his childhood home, cleaning himself up after getting beaten, by fists or by baseballs or whatever else those bastards from his high school could find to use on him? The glugginess and smell of blood in his nose is stomach-turningly familiar. 

But her hand is soft and warm under his chin, her thumb smooths over the line of his jaw, and he finds he can’t force himself to take the cloth from her. He practically melts into her gentle grip, his head held up by her hand more than his own neck. She tuts quietly and shakes her head. 

“Your piercing is bleeding a little,” she says. He winces slightly as she dabs blood from the stud in his nose and she murmurs an apology. “Those guys were such douchebags - what was their problem anyway?” 

Satisfied with the lack of blood on his face, she sits down beside him on the end of the bed. Her knee bumps against his and he feels an electric tingle for warmth up his thigh. She roughs the cloth in her hands, thumbing at a clean corner. 

“Iwanuma was hitting on Tanno’s girlfriend, made her uncomfortable so she ran off to tell on him,” he answers with a sniff, smelling a metallic tang, tasting it in the back of his throat. There’s a dull throb of pain across the middle of his face and he winces as his nose scrunches. “Got out of hand from there.” 

“'Out of hand' is definitely one way to put it.” 

He sees her hands tighten slightly on the washcloth, wrapping a length of it around her forefinger, then his gaze dips towards the lump in her pocket, the knife she’d stashed there. The scene flickers back into his mind, the quick fluid movements, the almost-perfect control of her body as she grabbed and disarmed and restrained. 

“What you did back there …” he says, “It was impressive.” 

Her face flushes, pinkish across her spattering of light freckles.

“You can thank Mori for that.” She shrugs loosely, but a small smile grows on her lips. 

“He taught you?” His smile quirks. He’s not really surprised; considering Aguni’s overprotectiveness of her, it seems only typical that he’d teach her to protect herself for whenever he wasn’t around.

“I guess you could call it teaching me how to fight more than simply self-defense.” She picks at the threads of the cloth. “At least it’s coming in handy now.” 

He reaches out to take her hand, stilling her nervous plucking. His thumb slides over the points of her knuckles, he can feel the small dent of a pale scar over the middle one. 

“We’re lucky to have you around.” 

Her gaze flicks up to meet his and it’s like the world shifts into a different angle of clarity. Every point of contact tingles, her hand under his, the curve of her knee against his. She presses her lips together for a moment, her throat bobs with a small swallow. 

Aguni suddenly flashes into the forefront of his mind, Niragi’s sure taking a punch from him would be far worse than the one Tanno had thrown. 

He takes his hand back from her, standing quickly to put some space between them. His nose still aches, there’s a dull sting around his piercing with each inhale. Her eyes follow him, warm and brown and so much like her brother’s. 

Before he can speak, she does. 

“We should be getting back. They’ll be wondering what’s taking us so long,” she says, giving him an easy out, a small smile pulling on her lips that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. 

He nods shortly. She copies the motion, then stands and starts towards the door, tossing the slightly bloody washcloth in the bathroom as she passes. He lets her wave him out the door before she follows out after him. 

Checking the food storage, Maki is quiet, barely hearing as Yukimaru fills the silence with chatting. She sorts and separates and notes and tidies until the sun starts to set, casting an orange glow through the window. Yukimaru, thankfully, doesn’t ask what’s got her so distracted, even though it’s obvious that she is. 

Her mind is awhirl. Niragi is stained behind her eyes, imprinted into the forefront of her thoughts. She can still feel him beneath her hands, his soft smooth cheek and the gentle curve under his chin and his long fingers over her knuckles. 

There’d been a moment, just a second, where she thought he might - no, that’s stupid. She quickly dashes the thought before it can become anything. Still, she can feel how her cheeks flush with heat, no doubt looking stupidly red in the face. If Yukimaru notices, he’s kind enough to not say anything about it either; instead, as they leave, he smiles and thanks her and say he’ll come see her tomorrow if she’s got any more jobs for him. 

In the image of playing polite, she nods and waits for him to stroll off before she makes a quick getaway to the elevator up to her room. 

She closes the door to her room quietly. Walking over to the low coffee table, she sits herself on the couch and draws out the knife that’s been hidden in her pocket for hours now. She sets it on the table. 

It’s a simple knife. As it sits on her coffee table, dark and sheathed, she stares at it. It’s not overly large and the blade is thin, it looks slight aged. Perhaps it had some sentimental value to Iwanuma, if such a thing could invoke any emotion so twee. 

Flexing her hands, she’s almost wary to touch it but curious too. She’s no stranger to knives, but she’s never owned more than a kitchen knife, nothing like this. Pressed against the side of her thigh in her pocket, she’d felt the weight of it all the way from the restaurant floor to her room. 'I’ll just keep it for protection,' she thinks to herself. Better it be in her hands than back in Iwanuma’s after the way he’d behaved today. With a breath, she reaches out to pick it up, slipping the blade from its sheath. 

It glints silvery in the light of her room. 

It’s more of a small dagger than a decent knife, sharp along both edges. She strokes her fingertip along the shiny flat length of the blade, it’s smooth and cool beneath her touch. Prodding her fingertip to the pointed tip, she finds it slightly dull, it takes more than a light press to break the skin and pearl up a bead of blood. 

As she’s examining the banged-up hilt, she hears a knock at the door. A familiar one that could only come from her brother. Snatching up the case, she sheaths the blade and shoves it back into her pocket. No doubt Morizono would take it or simply just get rid of it. She finds that she wants to keep it, even if it means hiding it from her brother. 

Hopping up from the couch, she makes her way to the door, straightening her shirt at the neck and pulling the oversized length down to hide the bulge in her pocket. With a calming breath, she exhales and opens the door, her expression forced into something placid and unassuming. 

“Mori,” she greets, stepping aside to let him in. There’s a familiar crease of concern across his face as he steps in, curving around her to walk further into her room. 

“I heard about the fight, are you okay?” he asks. 

His eyes search over her, looking for any offending bruises or injuries. When he finds none, a tension slips from him and he roughs out a sigh. She knocks his shoulder as she passes by him, back towards the couch. 

“Niragi got it far worse than me,” she replies. Sitting, she leans her head back against the couch, turning her gaze towards Morizono, “Did you go check on him?” 

Her brow quirks, then furrows in frustration. His clear 'no' goes unsaid. 

“You could be nicer to him,” she says with a sigh, leaning her head back and turning her gaze up towards the ceiling, her hands fold into her lap. “It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.” 

Morizono crosses his arms. She hears him draw in a breath. It’s clear that he’s thinking about something, trying to piece together his thoughts before he speaks. She remembers that sick sour taste in the back of her throat the last time they’d snapped at each other over Niragi, her hackles tensed and the electric friction in the air.

“About Niragi and Last Boss, the way they bounce off each other and with everything else going on around here lately … I just have a bad feeling, Makina,” he answers finally. 

Her mouth twists slightly. Okay, she’ll admit that Last Boss is a little scary looking and Niragi has some rough edges, lashing out when people snapped at him. Sometimes it’s like dogs through a fence, teeth-bearing and loud until one backs down - it’s rarely Niragi who concedes and Last Boss feeds off his energy in turn, matching him. Last Boss clearly likes to make a frequent show of that katana, though Maki has yet to see him actually injure anyone with it. As far as she can tell, they’re no worse than others around the Beach, but she knows affections can be blinding. 

“Then shouldn’t we do something about it? Do something about the people getting into fights?” she suggests finally, “Punishment of some kind or kicking them out.” 

“Danma wouldn’t go for that. He wants this place to be a 'utopia for all'.” 

Maki rolls her eyes subtly, her mouth pinching down into a slight frown at the corners. Absentmindedly, she plucks at one of her bracelets, snapping it against her wrist. 

“Guess it would be antithetical to his grand plan,” she deadpans. 

She hears him sigh, then hears footfalls as he steps closer. He raps his knuckles lightly against her forehead, like knocking on a door. Her brows scrunch and she blinks up at him. 

“Let’s go get something to eat before the games.” 

Well, she won’t argue with that. Swinging up to stand from the couch, the weight of the knife bounces in her pocket. There’s a twang of guilt in her chest at knowing she’s hiding it, but she pushes the feeling down as she bodily knocks into her brother’s arm, a faux-whiny plea for udon escaping her that makes him rumble a laugh and swing his arm around her shoulders. 

In the weighty heat of the summer night, an appreciated cool breeze blows through Maki’s hair, tickling against the slight film of sweat on her nape. Her and Yukimaru have been matched together for a game tonight, both in need of a handful more visa days. The games she’s taken on here and there have been low-rolls, easy but only worth minimal days. She’d pulled into a parking spot a short walk from the game they were heading to and the pair of tall buildings are lit up like shining beacons in the dark of the city. 

As they walk side-by-side down the street, she grimaces as they approach the lit-up entrance, quiet in her hope that it’s simply something to do inside the buildings, like those diamond games she’d heard about taking place in gambling dens and office buildings.

Yukimaru strolls along beside her, pausing on the outer side of the entrance when she does and glancing curiously her way. Her eyes trip over the propped open glass doors, knowing as soon as she steps through that invisible laser grid, she’ll be locked in there. That unnerved discomforting feeling she’s been getting with every game starts to twist up her stomach. She takes a breath, flexes her fingers, then gathers her hair into a low ponytail and ties it with an elastic from around her wrist. 

“You ready?” Yukimaru asks. 

She glances at him, takes another breath. 

“As I’ll ever be,” she replies. 

They walk inside. Maki first, Yukimaru following. There’s a small group of people already waiting in the building’s foyer. It looks like a rather dull office building, a waiting area in the entrance that they’re standing around in, an arcing half-circle desk positioned between a pair of elevators by the far wall. Sitting on the top whitewashed tier of the reception desk waits a handful of unclaimed registration phones. 

The pair sign in, then Maki hops up and over the desk. 

Yukimaru leans against the desk, peering over as he watches her sit and start pulling open drawers, picking through them. After a few minutes, she puffs her cheeks and exhales a sigh. There’s nothing but useless age-softened wilting papers filled with faded office jargon and stray discarded stationary. She kicks the bottom drawer shut and shuffles the rolling chair along to the other side’s set of drawers.

As she’s reaching for the next drawer, one of the elevators dings and its doors open. Everyone glances towards it, wary and unmoving. 

“Enter the elevator to be taken to the game arena,” the familiar tinny voice comes out from the elevator speakers. 

For a moment, nobody moves, then a short girl with a ruffled bob haircut pulls herself up from her seat in the waiting area and crosses towards the elevator. The rest of them follow shortly after, piling into the elevator. When the last player steps in, the doors quickly close and the elevator starts to rise before anyone can even move to press a button. With each floor they go up, Maki’s stomach turns and twists, hopelessly wishing for it to stop at any of the lower floors, then for any of the middle floors. 

The elevator stops at the top floor. 

Filing out into a dim hallway, the players follow lit-up arrows to a door, then up a stairwell to the rooftop. A breeze rushes along past them, whistling between the players, chilling goosebumps along Maki’s arms. She stares across the roof and balks at what she sees. 

There’s four large spotlights, a pair on the corners of their rooftop and two on the opposite roof, all shining into the gap between the buildings - or rather, the beams stretching between the two roof tops. 

A few players approached the rooftop edge, looking at the beams, their hair blown around by the wind. The girl with the bob-cut stands among them, peering curiously at the beam and then down over the building’s edge. The thought alone makes Maki feel sick and she keeps her distance from the sheer drops of the roof’s borders. 

“Four of Spades. Game, High-wire Walk.” 

No no. Nonono. Maki feels her throat tighten, choking breath. 

“Game complete when all surviving players make it to the roof of the opposite building. Players must walk across the beams, touching the beams with your hands will result in a shock. Game lost if no players make it to the other building.” 

“We just have to make it to the other side?” One of the players asks, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to measure out the distance. 

“There’s two beams, is it a trick? Is one more stable than the other?” Another speaks up as she looks between the beams. 

“Makina, what do you think?” Yukimaru asks quietly. 

She’s thinking that she’d rather be anywhere else. 

Forcing herself to focus, for her own sake and Yukimaru’s, she takes a step closer to look at the beams and the distance to the next building. Without her glasses, her vision is blurry and the too-bright spotlights on the roof’s corners makes starbursts dance in her periphery. Staying close to Yukimaru, she keeps her voice low. 

“The wind is coming in from the right. If more people choose the right beam and we choose the left, they’ll probably block the wind and we won’t get blown around as much. We just need to convince them.” 

“Do you think you can?” 

Maki pauses to think, runs through details and what she could say that could come off as effectively convincing and not self-interested. She doesn’t like lying, she doesn’t really know how to manipulate. There’s a tall man standing by the edge of the roof by the beams, posturing to play 'leader' by the looks of it. He’ll be her target. 

Stepping closer to the waiting group of players, she turns her gaze over the beams and hums, just loud enough to catch attention. 

“We should split evenly across the beam. Too much weight on one beam might make it collapse,” she says, putting forth an act of confidence. 

“There’s not an even number of us,” the would-be leader says. 

“Then four on one beam, three on the other. Me, Yukimaru and,” her eyes fall on the bob-cut girl who’d walked onto the elevator first, “You. We’ll take the right beam.” 

“No,” the man says. He eyes the beams, where she’s standing beside the rightmost one, “Who made you the boss here? You three take the left. We’ll take the right.” 

Maki’s expression creases indescribably, her mouth opens, wordless choppy beginnings of complaints puffing past her lips. The man’s much taller than her, looming, grappling to retain his presumed leadership. He pushes her out of the way of the right beam, climbing onto the roof’s edge to take the first step onto the beam. Her eyes turn to briefly meet Yukimaru, a slight raise of her brows, the slightest ghost of a smile. Hook-line-sinker. 

Turning to speak to the girl, Maki finds that she’s already climbing onto the building’s edge and stepping out onto the beam with careful precision, not even looking back at them. She looks to Yukimaru instead and waves him on ahead of her, trying to keep back the swell of nausea rolling through her from the brief glance over the sheer-dropping edge. Nodding, Yukimaru hops up and steps confidently onto the bar, following after the girl. 

Taking a deep breath, Maki stretches her fingers then closes her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms until her hands stop shaking. Forcing herself to move, she pushes up onto the building’s edge. 

Her stomach drops like a stone as soon as both her feet are on the beam. There’s an uncomfortable distinct feeling that stirs in her chest; the dizzying cold-sweat acknowledgment that, below mere inches of metal, there’s nothing but open air for too many meters until solid ground. She takes a few careful steps, much slower than both the girl and Yukimaru. 

A strong gust of wind bolsters against her side, she’s moving too slowly to be blocked by the players on the other beam. She gasps, flinging her arms out into open air to try and regain her balance. Wavering from side to side unsteadily, she looks down at her feet to shift them minutely, lining them heel-to-toe on the beam. Another breeze blows past her, fluttering her dark hair into her face. Frustrated, she reaches up to swipe her fringe out of her eyes. 

“Fuck,” she hisses. 

She clenches her eyes shut as if by some miracle she could force her vision better somehow. When she reopen her eyes, her stomach sinks. Her vision is still familiarly blurry, everything still looks slightly muddled and indistinct. 

“Are you okay?” Yukimaru asks over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” she replies shakily, then squeezes her eyes shut again to steel herself, forcing a more determined tone to her voice, “Yeah, just keep moving.” 

She sucks in a low breath. Carefully, she inches her backmost foot around to the front, setting it on the beam. She doesn’t lean her weight onto it until she’s sure that it’s properly set and she’s not going to slip and plummet to her death. It’s slow-going, but each measured step takes her closer to the roof of the other building. 

After a few more steps, Yukimaru balances and turns sideways to face her. His expression shifts in surprise when his eyes land on her, her bottom lip worried between her teeth, her hands shaky and held out at her sides as she tries to stabilise herself. 

“You’re scared of heights,” he says, a statement not a question. 

“Yes. Yeah, a-and I can’t see, my glasses-” A shaky hitching breath hisses past her teeth, she swipes her hand across her face. 

“Oh. Shit. My ex - uh - he had this thing about dealing with phobias, what did he …” Yukimaru trails off as he wracks his brain, mumbling as he rattles off dot-points: “Take a breath, uh, take your time, uhm, five things …”

“Don’t exactly have a lot of time for the whole ‘deep breathing, calm down’ thing, Yuki,” she says with a hopeless thready chuckle. 

He finally holds out a hand to her, “Here, let me help you. I’ll guide you, and I won’t let you fall. I promise.” 

“If I fall, you’ll fall.” 

“You’re not going to fall. I’m not going to let you, because I’m really scared of your brother and I think he’ll kill me if I come back without you, so it’s a good incentive.” She laughs at that. Yukimaru smiles. “Give me your hand.” 

She reaches out, her clammy fingers curling around his. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly, they start to walk along the beam in tandem. The rooftop of the other building gets ever closer, but it’s still blurry past the too-bright starbursts of the spotlights. Another gust of wind whistles by and she grips Yukimaru’s hand tighter, trembling. 

Suddenly, the girl in front of them stops. Yukimaru halts and Maki wobbles as she comes to a stop behind him. 

“What’s wrong?” Yukimaru asks, inching closer to the girl. 

“The beam is getting thinner,” she says. 

Maki looks down. She measures her foot against the beam, there’s less space between the edges of the beam and width of her shoe. As she takes another careful step, a swell of wind blusters and one of the players on the other beam stumbles, dropping to his knee. The second his hand grips the beam to steady himself, she hears electric zap and the guy seizes, his body drawn taut. Eyes wide, she watches as he falls, dropping between the bars and disappearing towards the ground. She looks away, she can’t watch. 

“Just keep walking, please just keep walking,” she begs. 

The beam gets thinner and thinner, forcing Maki to awkwardly angle her feet with each step. Ahead of them, the girl rushes along, light-footed even as the beam thins to mere centimetres across. Another few quick steps and she hops effortlessly from beam to roof edge to rooftop. Maki glances up and grimaces jealously at her feet being on something so solid. Yukimaru coaxes her on with small optimistic phrases, insisting 'it’s not that much further' and that they’re 'almost there'. 

He has to let go of her hand as they get closer to the end of the beam. 

Making sure she’s steady, he slips his hand from her’s and hurries the last few steps and hops down onto the rooftop. Call it eagerness or desperation, but she rushes forward along the beam as soon as his feet are on the roof. In a combination of her stumbling balance, the wind, and the teeny width of the beam, her foot slides off the edge and she’s falling before she can so much as gasp let alone scream. 

Yukimaru reaches out as Maki topples forward, yanking her onto the roof where she quickly collapses to her knees. She’s breathing hard, her heart pounding so roughly in her chest that it hurts, panicked tears stinging behind her eyes. Yukimaru’s hand sets in the middle of her upper back, a comforting weight as she calms herself. As she takes a long breath, she hears another pair of feet hit the rooftop. Was that the last of them? Had they won? 

Her eyes blink open and she turns back towards the beams to see if anyone was left. As she watches, she wishes she’d kept her eyes shut. 

The last player on the right beam makes the same mistake she did. Too eager, she hurries forward and her foot slips. As if time slows down to make sure Maki can see every second of it, she watches as the girl falls. There’s no one close enough to grab her and pull her to safety. A short sharp scream rips from her, then her head cracks on the edge of the roof with a dull, sickening crunch. Blood splatters in a bright red spray. 

Then she’s gone. Falling down down down towards the waiting ground. 

Though it makes her feel sick to even think it, Maki hopes the knock to the head had killed her quickly and she didn’t have to face the long fall. 

On a small table a few feet from the roof’s edge, the waiting printer dings to signal the end of the game and starts printing visa tickets and cards for the winners. Maki sits back on her feet, staring at the smear of blood on the roof. Yukimaru grabs their cards and tickets, then comes back to help her to her feet. As she stands, her legs are still wobbly and feel like jelly. 

She insists on driving even after Yukimaru offers more than once on the way down the building and down the street to where she’d parked. It’s settling, having the control in her hands, the smooth rumble of the engine through her body. By the time they get back to the Beach, she feels calmer, and by the time she gets up to her room, she’s collapsing into her bed and falling asleep without even bothering to shower. 

Chapter Text

Niragi doesn’t want to consider he might be jealous. Because there are bigger things to be worried about and it’s stupid anyway because he knows doesn’t have any claim to Maki or her time or her friendship or her potential more-than-friendship. Still, something stings and sharply twists in his chest as he watches Maki and that guy Yukimaru walking side-by-side. 

Well, not exactly side-by-side, Yukimaru stays a step behind, so it’s more like he’s following after her like a pathetic needy puppy.

The two have been hanging out a lot the last couple days, they’d even played that game together the other night. He’d seen the day before as she lead Yukimaru out to the parking garage, then come back an hour or so later with bags full of food. Maki had been smiling, Yukimaru rambling as he carried the heavier majority of the bags - then, she’d turned. Her eyes had met Niragi’s. She’d smiled at him, her fingers shifting in a small wave. 

Niragi could help her. If she asked. He could carry her bags and unpack her car and he wouldn’t complain even once, even if the bag handles dug red lines into his skin or it took him all day to do. He’d do it. If she asked. 

Now, Maki and Yukimaru walk along. Maki has a notebook propped in her hand, writing something as she walks, talking to Yukimaru. No doubt she’s figuring out some new job that needs doing that she’ll end up doing herself. The pair are forced to dodge aside as Danma comes strolling through, a throng surrounding him. That sting of jealousy in Niragi’s chest bubbles into annoyance. Danma would never spare a thought for even a fraction of the things Maki did, yet he paraded around like some king, letting people fawn over him like he’d done it all himself. 

Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head and refocuses instead on Maki. Her notebook is closed and held against her stomach, she’s saying something to Yukimaru, then they part and go in opposite directions. After a beat, Niragi stands. He squeezes a hand on Last Boss’ shoulder as he passes, a silent kind of 'stay here, I’ll be back'. 

He presses on to follow after Yukimaru. 

The guy ducks and weaves easily through the crowd, quick footwork carries him around people without bumping into any of them. He’s not hard to keep an eye on though, his shock of dark golden hair stands out. Niragi follows along, keeping a steady pace and distance between them. The faces he passes are blurs, inconsequential as ever. 

Soon enough, Niragi is following him into a dark length of the garage. 

Yukimaru jumps when Niragi rounds on him, looming over him, backing him towards a solid rectangular support beam. Niragi narrows his eyes, looking over him. Yukimaru doesn’t look like anything special, so what does Maki see in him? Why does she ask him for help and not Niragi? 

“Uh, hi? Niragi?” Yukimaru stammers out, confusion twisting across his face as he presses back against the beam. Niragi straightens, leaning back, but his dark eyes never leave Yukimaru. On the other hand, Yukimaru doesn’t meet Niragi’s gaze at all, looking anywhere else, like he could find someone to help him or find an escape. 

“What are you doing?” he asks finally. Yukimaru blinks, then fumbles a hand to his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. 

“Makina asked me to go pick some stuff up for her, I was just checking what cars were available,” he says, still shrinking. 

Niragi snatches the paper from his hand, unfolding it with his thumb. It’s a little difficult to make out in the dim of the garage, but it looks like a list of various gardening supplies and other tools, written in Maki’s pretty, neat handwriting. His eyes snap back to Yukimaru. 

“Why did she ask you?” 

Yukimaru shrugs, a nervous quirk to his awkward smile. 

“I just … offered to give her a hand.” 

So had Niragi. His eyes narrow further. He thinks to tell Yukimaru to fuck off, that he can take over from here, that Yukimaru’s 'help' is unneeded. The list is still in his hand. Before he can say anything, a familiar slumping quiet footfall meets his ear and he glances aside. 

“Niragi,” Last Boss rasps lowly, “Hatter wants to see us. A meeting.” 

How annoying. With a huff, Niragi shoves the scrap of paper into Yukimaru’s chest. Yukimaru catches it before it can drop, then he folds it in halves again and tucks it away back into his pocket. As he leaves, Last Boss slumping along beside him, Niragi can feel Yukimaru’s curious gaze on his back. 

Leaving Yukimaru with a list of stuff she needed, Maki continues through the hotel. Skirting around people, she makes brief eye contact with a few, smiles politely, and continues on without speaking to any of them. She knows names, she can be kind, but she still feels like she’s on the outside, like some thin gauzy film separates her from them. 

Turning down an emptier hallway, she trails along, turning her notebook in her hands. There are rarely people down this way, around the indoor pool and its attached private garden, and the door down to the basement. Even the elevator around this side is rarely used. In the silence, Maki feels like she can finally breathe; the music fades the further she walks, dwindling into a low far-off hum that she can barely make out. 

Maki pauses in the doorframe, holding the swinging door open. The indoor pool room is eerie. The high-roof lights are dim and intermittently flickering, the bulbs in need of changing - she’ll have to make note of that. The inside of the pool is lined with dark fibreglass, making it look deeper than it actually is. It’s a rectangular stretch of slightly rippling dark water that fills the majority of the long room. The flickering lights cause shadows to cling into the far corners where the sunlight filtering in through the glass doors and foliage-covered tall windows doesn’t reach. 

In retrospect, it’s no wonder that people didn’t use the indoor pool. 

With a hum, she takes a step inside and opens her notebook to a fresh page. Pulling a pen from her pocket, from beside the sheathed knife she’s been carrying around for a few days now, she clicks it and notes down 'make indoor pool more appealing?'. Replace the old lights, add more lights, rig up some speakers, maybe they could play some different music in here. To appease Danma, she’s sure there’s enough room that they could set up a kind of drinks bar by the back wall. After putting down some ideas, she clicks the pen again and slips it back into her pocket. 

She bumps her fingers against the sheath of the knife, then quickly snatches them away. As far as anyone else knew, she’d gotten rid of the knife, since that’s what she’d told them she did. 

She couldn’t bear to actually get rid of it. She’d thought of the man back in the five of clubs game, stabbing and killing his teammates just so he could win. She’d thought of Niragi in between Tanno and Iwanuma and what could have happened if she hadn’t been there. Her mind gets away from her then; she imagines the knife slicing into his pale long throat, parting his skin in one smooth thrust, then pulling out, sluicing blood down his front. Red and red and red until the thoughts made her dizzy and nauseous. 

It’s safer to have it, she’s decided, but it’s a complicated feeling. She doesn’t like lying, especially not to her brother, but she knows he won’t let her keep it. Even with all he’s taught her, he’s more sure that he can protect her better than she can protect herself. 

Flipping her notebook closed, it dangles from her hand as she walks around the pool towards the doors to the private garden. Beside the doors, there’s pairs of large windows on either side, but the overgrowth outside blocks a lot of the sunlight trying to come through. Pushing on the doors, she props them open before turning her gaze around the garden. 

Like all the others, it’s overgrown and she can hardly tell what’s supposed to be there and what’s not. A knot twists in her stomach at the thought of finding more spider lilies here, but for now, no red spindling petals pop out at her. There’s little she can do to clean up the garden now; after all the effort and aches from tidying up the first garden, she knows she needs some better tools and gloves. But she can still look around and try to figure out a plan-of-action though. 

The garden is enclosed with tall walls, with risen-bed gardens lining those walls. In the middle, there’s a circular garden with a tree growing tall in the centre. On either side of the circle garden is a carved-stone bench, dirty with age and plant litter. They’d need scrubbing, some real deep cleaning, she realises, already feeling the ache she’d have from kneeling on the ground to clean them. 

With a few quick swipes to clear off dead leaves from one of the benches, she sits and flips open her notebook on her lap. Sketching a scribbly layout of the garden, she looks around to take note of which raised garden-beds were the worst ones spilling over their stone-tile edges, where the plants were growing up over the windows, the leaf piles and the worst patches of weeds, which too-tall plants would need to be trimmed back. 

As an afterthought, she scribbles in a concept of string lights hung up on the walls and threaded through the centre tree’s branches. It’d bring some more light to the place, especially at night. She swirls in tiny little circle bulbs dotting branches and spike-flaring light-haloes around them. 

After a while, when she’s satisfied with her plan and her scribbles, she folds her notebook closed and gets up. She rubs a hand over an ache in her neck and exhales. Walking back through the indoor pool room, she exits back into the brighter hallway. Closing the door behind her, she turns to start walking away before stopping again, her eyes drawn across the hall. 

Was the basement door open when she’d first come down? 

It’s slightly swung open, leaving an inch-sized slit of blackness peering out from between the doorframe and door. An unnerved feeling fidgets into her chest, but she tries to force it down. Maybe Joe or Yarita were down there checking on the generators, Yarita had offered to check and make sure they were in proper working order. Part of her just wants to step over and close the door and leave it at that, tell herself whatever’s happening down there has nothing to do with her and she doesn’t have to worry about it. 

If it’s Yarita and Joe, then they’re just working and that’s fine; if it’s not, then why does she have to be the one to deal with it? 

Because no one else will, she reminds herself. 

Pressing her lips together in a thin line, she forces herself to step forward and push the door open. There’s a dim yellow light on in the basement, at the base of the stairs. It doesn’t reach very far up the staircase, leaving her with an unsettling walk through the dark until she reached the lower floor. 

Stepping off the last stair, she pauses to look around the dark basement. She can just make out the dark bulk of suitcases and bags still piled against the far wall. The lights are brightest over the large generators. Tilting her head, she notes that neither Yarita nor Joe are anywhere around it. 

She inhales a calming breath, steeling her nerves against the creeping shadows. 

“Hello?” she calls, hearing her own voice echo and bounce back at her. 

Straining, she listens for a moment and hears nothing. Maybe someone had just left the door open, had mistaken it for a different room and then didn’t close it all the way when they realised it wasn’t what they were looking for. That wouldn’t surprise her, it’d be an easy mistake to make, especially for someone drunk like many of the Beach’s residents often were. 

She’s about to turn around and leave back up the steps when she hears a soft scraping, dragging footfalls across the mucky basement floor. A figure walks slowly out of the shadows, slightly taller than her and slim-figured. A woman, Maki realises. 

“Kosugi?” she says, surprised concern lacing her tone. 

As if broken from a stupor, the girl releases a sob and rushes forward, flinging herself into her arms. Shocked, Maki gives Kosugi a short tight squeeze of a hug, then takes her by the elbows and gently coaxes her back, taking her hands, looking over her for any injuries or whatever else might explain why she was so upset. 

“Are you hurt? What happened? Why are you down here?” 

Kosugi is sobbing and hiccuping too much to form an answer. Big dewy tears spill down her reddened cheeks. Her shirt is oddly stretched, the once-tidy stitches popping at her thin shoulder. 

Over the girl’s crying, Maki catches the sound of quiet, approaching footsteps and whips around. Iwanuma walks out from the darkness by the stairs. Maki’s stomach twists at the realisation of how close he’d been and she hadn’t even noticed. Gathering Kosugi protectively behind her, Maki focuses her gaze on the man. 

“Back off, Iwanuma, we’re leaving,” she says, forcing her tone steady. 

“He killed Tanno,” Kosugi wails from behind her. 

Iwanuma, unfazed, walks towards them. Maki tenses. 

“I said, back off, we’re leaving,” she repeats, her hand reaching back to wrap around Kosugi’s wrist. 

“Neither of you are going anywhere - unless you want to come to an agreement.” Iwanuma’s tongue waggles disgustingly at them and she feels Kosugi flinch. He laughs, a cold sound, then snaps to seriousness in a second as he keeps walking closer. “Besides, you have something of mine.” 

The knife weighs heavy in her pocket. There’s no way she’s handing it over. 

“Your knife? It’s gone. I got rid of it already.” 

A crack of pain erupts across the right side of her face as Iwanuma’s knuckles find purchase beside her mouth. Her gums sting around her teeth, her canines catching the worst of it. She’s knocked back by the force of the punch, slightly stumbling. Kosugi’s shocked cry echoes in her ringing right ear. As Maki rights herself and pushes her notebook in Kosugi’s hands, pushing her further back, she can taste blood in her mouth. 

Iwanuma wrings out his meaty hands, cracking his knuckles. His black beady eyes glint with frustration. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls, “Where is it?” 

She spits a glob of bloody saliva onto the dirty ground. It splats, wet and bubbly, next to his feet. 

“You’re not getting it back,” she says through bloody teeth. 

He lunges for her then. His hands close around her throat. Her hands grapple over his, trying to wrench his grip off. She can feel scratches and half-dried scabby blood on his wrists. She realises quickly that this must’ve been how he killed Tanno. She sucks in thin breaths, her lungs starting to burn. Blackness edges in on her vision. 

Her hand fumbles to the knife tucked in her pocket. She grips tightly around the hilt, her thumb pressing against the edge of the sheath. What comes next is a desperate, instinctive movement as she jams the knife into his side. The blade enters just under his ribs. He gasps. His grip loosens. She breathes in. 

Pulling back to look at her, there’s shock glinting in his eyes. 

She yanks the knife out and stabs again. 

Iwanuma stumbles back. She follows. She sucks in breaths, coughing into the back of her bloody hand. Her throat aches. He trips over his own feet, his hands fumbling to grip over his wounds. One of his hands flies up in weak resistance. 

He’s killed someone, she reminds herself, and he’ll face no real punishment for it. Danma won’t kick him out. He’ll hurt someone again as soon as he’s able to, because he can, because he would’ve already gotten away with it once. 

With numb realisation, she knows what has to be done. 

She drops her knee heavily into his gut, leaning into him as she lifts her knife. He wheezes under her weight. She slams the knife down, driving it into his chest again and again. It doesn’t even feel like she’s doing it. She feels like she’s floating above it, watching from some bird’s-eye view. 

When she finally comes back to herself, his chest is unrecognisable beneath the mangle of wounds. His eyes stare towards at the ceiling, dull and lifeless. Her hands are stained with blood. She can feel it clogging and coagulating under her nails, she can feel it drying on her face. Her chest heaves with every breath. She feels like she’s going to be sick, hot bile stings up her throat that she swallows back.

Forcing herself to stand, she turns to see Kosugi staring at her. There’s tears on her face, but she doesn’t look horrified. Not scared. There’s simply dull, almost blank, understanding. 

“You killed him,” she says quietly. 

“I had to,” Maki chokes out, her voice rasping up her bruised throat. 

Kosugi nods slowly. She must be in shock, Maki thinks. Seeing her boyfriend killed and whatever Iwanuma had done to her and now seeing what Maki’s done to Iwanuma, it had to be the only reason she wasn’t freaking out right now. 

Maki swallows thickly, wincing as her throat aches. She needed her brother, she needed to talk to him. He’d understand. He couldn’t side with Danma, not when it came to this. 

“We need to go,” she says finally. 

Her hand lifts to reach out towards Kosugi, to guide her out of the basement, but then she sees the blood and changes her mind. With a simple motion, she ushers Kosugi on to follow her to the staircase. 

They walk up in silence. Back in the hallway, Maki makes a point to be sure that the basement door is closed. There’s no way to avoid people, so Maki doesn’t bother. She leads the way down the hallway. The knife is still gripped in her hand, hanging at her side, smearing blood where the blade brushes against the side of her pants. 

As they enter the common area where more people are, they’re greeted by gasps and surprised yelps. People leap out of her way. As she walks, she scans the crowd for anyone she recognises by more than simply name. Her eyes settle on a familiar face. The guy doesn’t jump away when she approaches, but shock flares in his eyes as they search over her. 

“Joe, have you seen my brother?” she asks croakily. 

“Upstairs, there’s a meeting - Makina, are you okay? What happened?” he asks, panic written across his features. 

“Can you stay with Kosugi? She shouldn’t be alone,” she says instead of answering, taking the pale-coloured corner of her notebook as she pulls it from Kosugi’s hands. 

Then, without another word, she walks towards the elevator as it opens. The people inside quickly make their way out as she steps in. She presses one bloody fingertips against the '8' button and then the 'close doors' button, staring blankly out the doors. 

With a beep, the doors close and the elevator rumbles up. 

Stepping out onto the eighth floor, she lets her feet guide her along. Down by the door to the main conference room, she can see a couple people, ones she recognises as being chosen by Ann for her forest mission. Something must have been found out about the forest, that’s probably what the meeting is about. She wonders blankly why she hadn’t heard about the meeting, then realises she’d left her walkie-talkie behind in her office, thinking she was only going to be downstairs for a short while. 

It was rare that she attended meetings about the forest anyway. It still makes her uncomfortable to think about. 

The knife still swings by her side as she walks up the hallway. 

“Get out of my way,” she says, a hitch in her usual monotone. 

The pair of Ann’s members leap out of the way of the door and she marches on, pushing through the door without even a pause. Her hand smudges a mark of blood against the door. Around the table, the council members look up. Niragi twists to look at her and his breath catches, his dark eyes trailing as he takes in the stain of blood up her front and on her face, the knife gripped in her bloodied hand. 

The shock takes a moment to hit them. She gets all the way to the end of the table between Niragi and Last Boss, tossing her notebook onto it, before her brother is jumping to his feet. His heavy chair clatters to the ground behind him as he quickly makes his way to her side. She lifts her empty hand to slow him down. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Maki-” he starts. 

“We need to do something about the violent people at the Beach,” she cuts him off, looking down the table’s length to Danma instead. Her hand clenches around the knife hilt so tight that her arm shakes.

“Makina, what happened?” Morizono pushes on, taking her gently by her blood-spattered elbow. She flinches, her jaw tightening as her head snaps towards him. 

“Iwanuma’s dead. Tanno too.” 

His brows furrow at her bluntness, his eyes searching her, briefly considering the knife in her hand and the blood splattered across her front. 

“What did you do?” He asks carefully, in that gentle older-brotherly tone. 

Her voice breaks slightly, “What I had to.” 

A beat of tense silence passes. 

“What happened?” Morizono presses more. His hand lifts to set on her shoulder, warm and familiar. Her jaw tightens. Her hands shake. 

“Iwanuma - he would have killed Kosugi. He’d already killed Tanno. I had to stop him. He -” She tightens her empty hand into a fist at her side, digging her nails into her palm. Her hand shakes. The blood on her shirt, the red marks around her throat, and the dark bruise near her mouth speak for her: a fight had broken out and only one of them had survived it. 

“And what would you have us do, Makina?” Danma asks finally after the pause of silence, leaning back in his seat and breezing a limp hand toward her, staring back from across the table. 

Maki slams the knife down into the tabletop, the sharp point penetrating the wood, her voice rises and cracks under the strain, “Do I have to think of everything? This is your fucking paradise, figure it out!”

Around the table, people jolts at her outburst, the sharp baring of her teeth, blood on her gums. Morizono squeezes her shoulder. Rage bubbles beneath her skin, she can feel herself trembling with it. Slowly, she pulls the knife back out of wood and peels her fingers one by one off the knife hilt, letting it drop onto the tabletop with a clatter. It’s sticky with blood and leaves a dark red smudge on the wood. Her eyes shut and she sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. 

Her eyes flutter open, steadier, staring forward. Danma is the only thing in her pinpoint line of vision, darkness fuzzing around the edges. Her fingers press on the tabletop, leaving muddy fingerprints behind. 

“Figure it out,” she repeats, quieter, then steps out of Morizono’s grip and walks back out the door of the council room. 

Maki showers, scrubbing her skin raw until she’s sure all Iwanuma’s blood is gone. In the corner of her bathroom, her bloodied clothes sit in an abandoned pile on the ground. She thinks to burn them, that just throwing them away didn’t feel like enough. While she dries herself off, she discovers a weeping cut on the side of her hand, just below her pinkie finger. She hadn’t even felt it happen in the moment, now it stings and throbs all the way through her palm and down her little finger. 

Leaving her room, she finds and sits in a quiet corner of the second floor annex. Out the window, she can see the dimly lit garden. It’s the big one she hasn’t gotten to yet, overgrown with varieties of plants are spilling out like everywhere else in the city. Numbly, she thinks about how long it’s going to take to clean it up, to trim down the dead overgrowth and pull the weeds. She laughs humourlessly into the lip of her can of choya. Even now, she’s thinking of how to fix up Danma’s stupid 'paradise'. 

Hearing footsteps approaching, she looks up to find Niragi walking towards her. She huffs quietly, feeling too tired, shaking her head and dangling her drink from her fingertips.

“Did my brother send you to check up on me?” She asks dully as he comes to a pause two feet or so from the couch where she sits. 

“No,” he starts, leaning his weight onto one foot, “but he is busy discussing ideas with Hatter. I’m sure he’d be here instead of me otherwise.” 

“Come sit down then if you plan on staying.” 

She wants his company, wants to pull him down to sit with her. She doesn’t really want to be alone, but it feels so pathetic to say that. Motioning to the spot on the couch beside her, she shifts to give him ample room and leans her elbow onto the couch’s arm. She winces as she moves and he frowns. 

“Are you okay?” He asks as he sits. She smiles thinly. 

“It’s harder to stab someone than it looks it the movies,” she says, straining a hand up her arm and over her shoulder. He’s quiet for a moment, looking at her in a curious, searching way. 

“Did you realise you bent it?” 

She looks at him, brow lifting, “What?” 

“The knife. You bent the blade. That’s why your arm hurts, the force it would’ve taken …” he shakes his head slightly as he trails off, impressed. 

It flashes back into her mind. Kneeling, one knee set onto the grimy basement floor, the other pressing on Iwanuma’s gut. The knife clenched in her hand, her fingers slipping up the grip, blade cutting into her skin. The pull back and the stab, over and over and over again, clumsy and desperate and too much until she finally calmed down enough to realise he was dead. The heave of her chest, sucking in breaths, tasting dust and the old musty air of the basement and the tang of blood. 

She’s never killed anyone, never had to be so hands-on in a fight. 

When did it turn from protecting herself to letting her anger out? 

His impressed smirk drops slightly when he notices her expression. 

“Makina?” 

“I’m fine,” she says quickly, shoving the memories into some dark recess in her mind to be forgotten. 

Niragi searches her face again. The pinch of her features, the harrow in her dark eyes, the red-purple bruises by her mouth and curled around her throat. For a moment, he thinks to reach out and take her trembling hand, to offer some kind of comfort. Then he remembers how she’d flinched at even her own brother’s touch, so he doesn’t. 

“'What you had to', right?” He repeats, “This world is lawless. The usual punishments for crimes don’t exist here; there’s no judges or juries to say who’s right or who’s wrong, there’s only us now. You did what you had to, you shouldn’t feel bad about it.” 

It’s his own brand of comforting, she supposes. 

Her hand lifts to reach for him, but she hears familiar footfalls approach and the two glance up to see Morizono. Maki drops her hand back into her lap. Niragi stands, almost stiff at attention, half like a soldier under the gaze of a general. Some part of her recognises that it’s half-amusing, the effect her brother has on people. 

“Niragi,” he says, a pointed acknowledgment. Niragi steps aside, away from the couch and Maki. “Don’t go too far, I’ve got something to discuss with you later.” 

Niragi nods at the dismissal, then walks off, far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to overhear what the siblings are talking about. He leans on the railing over the main annex, watching the people passing below, sometimes subtly glancing up to look at Maki and Aguni sitting in the dim corner. 

Curiosity fidgets in his chest. Aguni wanted to discuss something with him? The curious feeling flutters briefly into worry. It’s no secret that Aguni is overprotective of his sister, and that Niragi has gained a non-small portion of his ire by spending so much time with her. Would this be what tips the scale to finally make Aguni tell him to stay away from her? 

Mouth twisting, he pushes the thought down. It had to be something else. 

He glances back towards the pair again. Maki’s temple rests against Aguni’s shoulder. There’s a gentleness that she brings out of Aguni, it’s obvious in moments like this. Having no siblings of his own, Niragi doesn’t know what it’s like; to trust someone like that, to be cared for like that. It’s something incomprehensible to him. 

Niragi’s gaze shifts, settles on the bruise by Maki’s mouth. Rage prickles in his chest at the sight of the bruises. Some voice in his head argues that he should have been there; then another voice cuts in, asking what he could’ve possibly done. And he knows the latter is right. Tanno got him teary with just one punch to the face, the old familiar pain reaching out through the years in seconds to drudge up awful memories from teenagedom. 

Maki is more skilled than him, if not stronger too. Against Iwanuma, what could he have done? He can’t throw a punch, he has no skill with a knife. He would have just been in her way, someone she needed to protect, like that girl. A part of him feels pathetic to realise it. There had to be something he could do, some way he could be of use to her, could protect her instead, he just has to figure it out. 

Turning back to lean on the railing, Last Boss walks up to his side to lean next to him. Niragi glances at him. Last Boss looks back at him, then passed him to Maki and Aguni, their low murmur of conversation inaudible at their distance. 

“She okay?” Last Boss asks. 

“Shaken up, I think,” he answers. 

“What do you think Aguni wants to talk about?” 

Niragi’s quirks a brow, “He wants to talk you too?” 

Last Boss nods. Niragi hums quietly, shrugging. 

Knowing Aguni wants to discuss something with Last Boss too at least settles his nerves that it had anything to do with Maki. Last Boss didn’t spend nearly as much time around her, though they were still friendly; she regards him more amicably that a lot of other residents did, seemingly unfazed by his tattoos and odd personality now. Sighing, he settles into waiting again, watching the people on the ground floor walking around. 

Morizono takes a seat on the couch beside Maki, replacing Niragi. He glances over her, over her unbrushed damp hair and dark circled eyes and frowning bruised mouth. There’s something in his eyes that she can’t read, but the weight of it makes her avoid meeting his gaze directly. She sips her choya, pressing her thumb against the side of the can. His gaze shifts to the alcohol and she easily recognises that expression as disapproval. Part of her wants to leap to her own defence, that it’s only one drink, but instead she says nothing, too tired to bother. 

Sighing quietly, Morizono sets her bloody-fingerprinted notebook down on the low table and shifts slightly closer to her, reaching out to pat a hand over her hair and fixing the messed strands. She leans towards him, dropping her head onto his shoulder. 

“What did you and Danma figure out?” She asks finally. Her voice is still a little raspy and she touches her fingers to her bruised throat, biting down on a wince. 

“He thinks people are losing hope, that they need a purpose. He’s going to make an announcement tomorrow.” 

“And what’s his idea?” Morizono pauses, seeming reluctant to reply. Maki frowns, then groans in realisation, shifting back to look at him. “Not the cards? Really?” 

“He’s going to tell everyone that collecting all the cards will let people leave this world.” 

“That’s his great plan?” 

“Apparently he and Kano were talking about it, they think it’ll get people working together or something. And he wants me to set up a faction to lead. To keep the more violent members in line. Some kind of 'bodyguarding' sect, he called it.” 

Maki sighs, “He asks too much of you. As always.” 

“I’m going to ask Niragi and Last Boss to help me with it.” Surprise lifts her brows. He rolls her eyes at her expression. “You wanted me to give them a chance. They can have one.” 

What he doesn’t say is that it’s a good way to keep a close eye on the two. 

A silence falls between them as she lays her head back on his muscular arm. Somewhere that feels more far off than it is, she can hear music playing loudly from downstairs near the pool. She realises she’s exhausted, that her body feels stiff and sore and the cut on her hand is throbbing. 

“Are you okay?” He asks finally. She’s quiet, thinking. 

“Do you think this is worth it? This whole ‘Beach’ thing?” 

It’s his turn to be quiet now. 

“I don’t know, but we’re in this far now, might as well keep going.” He wraps an arm around her, squeezing her arm comfortingly. “Go get some sleep. I’ll have everything cleaned up before morning, so don’t worry about that.” 

He says it so simply, like he’s not talking about dead bodies and puddled blood and the knife she’d used to - 

She cuts the thought off short. Pushing up onto her feet, she feels a twang of pain again and rolls her shoulder in an attempt to relieve it. Plucking her notebook up, she turns to look Niragi’s way and smiles weakly at him, then lifts a hand in greeting and goodnight to Last Boss before she walks off. Last Boss nods back at her. 

Morizono takes a breath, stands, and turns towards Niragi and Last Boss; the brotherly gentleness ebbs quickly away. 

“You two,” he says sharply, and they both stand a little straighter, waiting. 

Chapter Text

When Maki wakes in the morning, she feels tender like a bruise. Rolling on her side, all the joints from her shoulder down to her fingertips sing out in aching pain. She grimaces around a groan as she sits up, sighing through her nose. As sleep fades from her, it all comes rushing back. The basement with Kosugi and Iwanuma, the knife in her hand, all that blood. She presses the heels of her palms into her tired eyes. 

Danma’s supposed to be making his big announcement this morning. She would have to be there for it, the founding group of them showing a united front and all. Sighing, she gets out of bed even though she’d rather just go back to sleep. Maybe if she slept for long enough she’d wake up back in the real world and this would all just be a bad dream. 

She dresses, changes the bloodied plaster over the cut on her hand, and leaves her room. There’s still time before the announcement, she has things to do. Ann keeps all collected medication in her office, and Maki’s walkie-talkie had been left in her own office. 

By mid-morning, Maki stands by the second-floor annex railing, watching as residents file in on the ground floor. There’s a low murmuring to her left, Ann talking with Mira. She glances briefly towards them, gaze flickering over how their heads cant close together as they talk. Stood so close together, she can’t see how Mira’s hand slides to Ann’s wrist. 

Fingers touch her elbow, breaking her away from her staring, and she turns to see Niragi standing by her side. She smiles at him and he smiles back as he rests his arms on the railing beside her. Copying his leaning, she bumps her shoulder briefly against his, a tingle of warmth through her bicep. 

“Are you feeling better? How’s your arm?” he asks. She rubs her hand over her wrist, the arm-long ache dulled with painkillers Ann had given her. 

“I’ll be fine,” she answers noncommittally, shrugging. 

His mouth opens to say something, but he stops as Danma steps up to the railing, looking down at the gathered crowd. Her brother trails in after him, stopping a few steps behind. Danma has apparently decided to dress down for the occasion, now donning low riding board shorts and a long open decorative robe that trails along after him. He’s forgone a shirt and Maki’s nose scrunches at the sight of his bare torso. 

“Maki, Niragi,” Morizono says from behind the pair. 

Stepping back from the railing, Maki stands next to her brother and Niragi flanks behind him beside Last Boss. Ann, Mira and Kuzuryu fall into place on Danma’s other side. There’s a ripple of noise from the crowd and Danma’s smiles like a celebrity, lifting a hand to settle them. 

“Now, now, I know you all are curious what I’ve called everyone here for,” Danma starts, his voice carrying across the annex. “I’m sure you’ve all heard about the incident from yesterday, the attack on dear members of our community.” 

Maki flinches at the lilted, pointed tone of 'incident'. Such a deliberate choice of words, such a tidy twisting of reality. It’s too clean a word for what had happened, there isn’t a word for the dark clogging vileness. 'Incident' like a man wasn’t dead. 'Incident' like there isn’t blood soaked and stained into the basement floor. 'Incident' like her hands aren’t also stained. 

She flexes her fingers. 

Danma continues. 

“Iwanuma isn’t the type of person we want around here. So, for your safety, Aguni has graciously stepped up to provide protection, a bodyguarding sect. Niragi and Last Boss will help him.” He motions the trio forward. Maki steps aside, smiling forcibly, folding her tense-fisted hands behind the small of her back. Morizono steps up to the railing by Danma’s side, Niragi and Last Boss pause a step behind. They stand like soldiers, the ever-present slump is even gone from Last Boss for the moment. Danma sets a hand on Morizono’s muscular shoulder. “If you see or hear something that makes you feel unsafe, please bring it to their attention so we can deal with it before something terrible like what happened last night happens again.” 

Maki digs her nails into her palm. 

“Additionally, the Beach will now have two rules!” He announces to a faint murmur from the crowd, “First,” he motions sweepingly to himself, his new outfit, “On Beach property, swimwear is now required! Clothes reflect attitude, we should dress for the occasion. Remember, this is our paradise!” Maki balks but it goes unnoticed. He holds up two fingers in a 'v', continuing smoothly, “And now for the second rule. I have it on good authority that the route to our salvation is this!” 

He pulls out a card and holds it up over the railing. Maki recognises it as one of their old aces, from before the Beach was even a concept in any of their heads. 

“Behind the scenes, I have been looking into how to get home and a source of mine has revealed some solid information: by completing all of the games and collecting all the cards, one person will be allowed to return to reality!” The crowd gets louder, stunned, hurling questions up at him. Hatter ignores them all. “All cards will now belong to the Beach. Everyone, I implore you to hand them in. Now, alas, it can’t be helped that this sets up a chain of ranks, but rest assured that your continued survival through the games and the cards you contribute will increase your rank until we all are safely home!” 

Another sweeping motion to hush the crowd. The sleeve of his robe ripples. 

“Tonight, gather your cards and, tomorrow morning, Makina will collect them.” 

Maki can still hear the riproar of the crowd echoing in her ears even now as the eight of them sit around the conference room table. Danma, at the head of the table, leans back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. Annoyance roils in Maki’s stomach at the sight of his expression. Ducking her chin to hide how her mouth twists in displeasure, she looks down to her hands, scratching at the unsticking edge of her plaster. 

There’s a drone of conversation around her that she only half-listens to. 

“Is there any truth to it?” Ann asks. Danma waves a dismissive hand. 

“Who’s to say the cards aren’t the key to getting home?” he replies. 

Ann’s red lips purse into a frown, unsatisfied. 

“What’s the deal with the swimwear?” Maki cuts in, a clear displeased tone in her voice. Danma’s gaze shifts to her. He smiles. 

“Can’t easily hide a weapon while wearing a swimsuit, Maki.” 

He says it - frustratingly singsong coos it - so easily that it could be mistaken for the truth, a plain excuse as if worrying about weapons was his only reasoning, but Maki can see that perverse glint in his eyes. 

“I’m not wearing a bikini,” she says, simmering under her skin. 

“Of course not.” He pauses. If she didn’t know better, she might’ve thought she’d gained a small win there. Then he smiles, continues, “Any swimwear will do.” 

She jams her thumb against the covered cut on her hand to stop from cursing out loud. Exhaling through her teeth, she forces down the sizzling frustration that had risen into her chest. Her gaze sets on Danma again. 

“You said ‘ranks’ in your speech, what did you mean?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” Danma’s smile widens into a grin and he hops up, grabbing a bag from a long side-table against the wall. “Since the cards can only send one person back at a time -” 

“So you say.” She sees his mouth twitch at the interruption. 

“Then we need to designate who deserves to go home first. So you can assign everyone a number using these.” He reaches a hand into the bag and pulls out a handful of braceleted locker tags. With a hum, he doles out the bracelets around the table. '002' to Aguni, '003' to Maki, '004' to Kuzuryu, '005' to Niragi, '006' to Ann, '007' to Mira, and '008' to Last Boss. 

Maki’s brows fly up, disbelieving, dropping the tag on the table, “You can’t seriously expect me to rank people like that?” 

“What’s the point of all your notetaking if you don’t use it?” Hatter drawls back. 

She bristles, clenching her hands beneath the table, pressing her fists into her thighs. The cut by her pinkie finger stings, the healing scab splitting apart and blood-staining the sticky plaster. 

“Am I ranking them by number of games played or game difficulty?” She asks stiffly. Hatter breezes a casual hand through the air, the '001' tag dangles at his wrist. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

She grits her teeth, her jaw painfully tight. Her hand throbs. Reaching out, she snatches up the bag of locker tags, the number '003' tag, and stands. 

“I’ll just go prepare then.” 

Sitting at her desk in her office, Maki throws her pen down and drops her face into her hands. How was she supposed to rank people? Real people. With lives and families. Who was she to say who deserved to be ranked higher or lower? On what condition was she supposed to judge? So many of the games people played was left to fate. If someone was only dealt the lower-numbered games by whatever god or monster or simple fate ran this world, did they really deserve a lower ranking than someone who had been 'lucky' enough to play the higher-numbered games? 

Her mind is awash with numbers and card suits, making a white-hot bead of a headache form in the centre of her forehead. Sighing, she knuckles against her forehead, as if she could force the sting of pain away. 

“Makina?” 

She relaxes her expression into something more even, smiling lightly as she looks up towards Yukimaru. He shifts from foot to foot, a mix of emotions flitting across his face. 

“Are you okay? I heard about what happened yesterday.” His voice is gentle as he trails off. Her smile tightens slightly at the corners. 

“I’m fine.” She motions to the pile of tools and supplies she’d asked for, “Thank you for that, by the way.” 

“Right, uh, yeah, no problem,” he says. He shifts awkwardly. “Um, Makina, about what Hatter said earlier … Can the cards really get us home?” 

“He certainly believes so.” 

She hates to lie and tell half-truths, but she can’t tell the whole truth. To out Danma as just making shit up would sow chaos, it would turn people against them. As much as Danma annoyed her, as much as she didn’t like this stupid card idea, she knows better than to go against him. His plan needed to be believed. 

Niragi steps through the doorway, glancing between Maki and Yukimaru. She smiles weakly at him, it doesn’t quite meet her exhaustion-ringed eyes. 

“Yukimaru,” she starts, “Would you mind taking some measurements for me? The indoor pool room? I’m thinking it can be fixed up. New lights, a bar maybe. I sketched up an idea.” 

She picks her notebook up and tries not to look at the red stain on the corner where she’d pinched it with her bloody hands. Flipping through the pages, she folds the covers together and holds the book out to Yukimaru, passing him a pen next. Yukimaru looks at the scribble, then nods. 

“I’ll have a look. Maybe we have some carpenters or something around here,” he says with a small, hopeful smile. Turning, he rustles through the bags of tools, pulling out an encased measuring tape. 

Niragi steps out of the way to let Yukimaru passed, the blond ducking quickly around him without meet his eyes. When he looks back towards Maki, she nods towards the door, silently telling him to close it. He swings it shut behind him then strolls over to her. 

“Thought you’d be off doing … whatever it is Mori has planned for you guys. Bodyguarding? Protector-ing?” There’s a lightly teasing tone to her voice that comes easy with him. Her smile turns up in a more genuine way as he smirks, amusement lifting his expression. 

“He’s talking with Hatter - I think they’re talking about you actually.” 

She sighs, looking back down at her notebook, thumbing over the page she’d been writing on, trying to figure out a plan. Huffing, she rips the page out of her notebook, balling it before she tosses it into the bin. 

“It doesn’t matter. Danma will get his way like he always does.” 

Niragi steps around her desk and gently grabs her wrist. 

“Your hand.” He turns her hand to look at the blood-soaked-through plaster. 

“Oh, that, it’s fine, I just cut myself a little the other night, I should have …” she trails off. For a moment, she just looks at their hands. His touch careful around her wrist and his long fingers shifting hers away from the plaster. His hands are slightly cool, but soft; his fingertips are slightly callused. Shaking herself from her thoughts, she twists at her waist to dig around in one of her desk drawers where she’d stashed a box of plasters. 

“Here, let me,” he offers, reaching to take the box from her. 

Leaning on the desk beside her, he cradles her hand in his palm and carefully peels the rest of the bloodied plaster off, tossing it into the nearby desk bin. Drawing her hand up, he looks closer at the cut. It’s not completely superficial, part of it looks deep, a knicked chunk out of the meaty part of the side of the hand. 

“You should let Ann take a look at this, might need a stitch or two,” he says, concern creasing his brow as he smooths his thumb against her palm. 

“She’s a doctor?” 

“Forensic scientist, I think she said.” 

“Well I don’t want to bother her, it’ll be fine. She’s busy with that whole forest situation anyway.” 

“Not anymore actually. That’s what the meeting was about yesterday. None of her people found anything, it just went deeper and deeper until it was pretty much impenetrable. A few of them even got shot down by those lasers after they went too far in.” He smirks. “I think it really pissed Ann off that it was such a waste of time.” 

He sticks a new plaster over her cut, deliberate in ensuring it’s stuck properly with smooth long strokes of his thumb. He has nice hands, she thinks not for the first time, watching as he turns her hand this way and that to make sure the cut is fully covered. Long slender fingers and smooth skin. Seemingly satisfied, he lowers her hand, but doesn’t let go, simply letting her hand rest cradled in his own. His thumb strokes over her palm. 

“Can you give me a hand tomorrow?” she asks, her gaze turning up towards his. “With this whole 'card collection' thing Danma wants me doing?” 

“Just tell me what you want me to do,” he replies with a smile. 

“Bodyguarding sect, right?” She looks down to her notebook again. “I think if I write out a list, then I can call people one-by-one to hand in their cards, but I don’t think they’re going to be happy about having to wait. Just hang around with me? Help keep everyone in line?” 

“Have you figured out how you’re going to deal out those tags?” 

She glances towards the 003 tag on her desk and sighs, rubbing her free hand over her face. That white-bright headache comes back, like a pin driving into the middle of her forehead. 

“It’s so fucked.” She can’t think of any other way to describe it. “How can he expect me to do this? These are real people - and there’s too many factors to consider.” 

Niragi’s thumb presses into the middle of her palm, a soothing massaging pressure. 

“You’re thinking too hard about this. Just add all the numbers on their cards together. If anyone complains, just leave them to me and I’ll handle it.” 

She smiles. He makes it sound so easy, so much less complicated than she’d been making about it. Her hand flips, squeezing his. 

“Thank you.” 

Come the next morning, Niragi and Yukimaru help Maki drag a table down to the main hall. She’d spent much of the previous day listing out every name from her main book with careful, neat pen strokes; leaving enough space between each name to pen in a total number. 

The bag of locker tags had been left up in her office. The 003 bracelet feels like a heavy weight wrapped around her wrist, a ball-and-chain dragging her down underwater. She tries to ignore it and not fidget with it as she sits down behind the desk. Niragi leans against the front of the desk, Yukimaru takes his own place beside her. 

The gathered crowd fusses, already grumbling and shuffling about, squeezed in tight together in the hall. 

“Hey, everyone shut up!” Niragi hollers, his voice cutting across the noise. 

The crowd hushes. 

Niragi glances back to her, nodding for her to speak. She nods, takes a breath, and flicks her notebook open. She casts her gaze out across the crowd. Eyes upon eyes upon eyes, all staring back at her, waiting. She swallows, clears her throat, and calls out the first name.

It’s going to be a long morning. 

For the next couple hours, Niragi oversees, Maki calls out names and pens down quickly calculated totals, and Yukimaru sorts each set of cards into their separate suits at Maki’s request. There’s still a decent amount of people standing in the annex, waiting and growing ever more tetchy with every passing minute. If any of them think to lash out and complain, they don’t act on the thought. She notices a few with disgruntled expressions who glance at her or Niragi, then sigh and relent to waiting. 

Eventually, Maki’s list is complete with each name ticked off and every total calculated and noted, Yukimaru loops elastic bands around each of the card suits, and they return the desk to it’s rightful place in one of the other ground floor rooms. The two men huff out sighs of relief as they fit the desk back into place, finally ridding themselves of the weight of it. 

“Thank you, both of you,” Maki says, neatening the suit-decks of cards atop her notebook. “Yuki, you’ve really earned yourself a break after these last few days.” 

Yukimaru perks, “But I really don’t mind helping out.” 

“Take a break,” she says, jokingly pleading and squeezing his arm. “Take one for me so I know one of us isn’t stuck working.” 

“You’ve still got work?” 

“Just need to finish up with this -” she slightly lifts her notebook, “- and get the rest of the cards. Go have a drink for me?” 

Yukimaru sighs quietly, “If you’re sure …” 

“I am.” 

Nodding shortly, Yukimaru smiles back at her and heads out. After he leaves, Maki sighs quietly and leans against the desk next to Niragi. She sets the card decks, one on top of the next until she’s got a pile, then shoves the lot of them in her pocket. Her gaze flicks sideways towards Niragi and she leans to bump against his shoulder. 

“What did you do for work? Before this whole thing happened?” she asks. 

“What?” he asks, quirking a confused brow. 

“When you said Ann was a forensic scientist the other yesterday, it got me thinking that I don’t know anyone’s jobs. Call me curious.” 

He chuckles, “I was a game engineer.” 

Now it’s her turn to look confused, so he explains. 

“I worked in game production. It’s a lot of programming and coding, making sure everything runs smoothly.” 

He expects to see boredom glazing her expression or her thinking he’s a nerd, but when he meets her gaze, he’s surprised to find interest painted across her face. 

“Anything I’d know? What were you working on before you ended up here?” she asks, hopping up to sit on the table and setting her notebook in her lap. 

He rattles off a few games he’d worked on and, as Maki’s eyes shine attentively, his nerves start to relax. Eager, she listens closely as he trails on about software he’d worked with and the debugging and troubleshooting he’d been on a break from when he’d ended up in this borderland. Eventually, the conversation trails to a close and she smiles at him as she hops off the desk. 

“Back to work?” It’s just barely a question as Niragi says it. 

Maki shrugs, “Has to get done. Speaking of,” Turning back to him, she holds out a hand, “Your cards?” 

He shoves a hand into his pocket and slips a small stack of cards into her palm. She thumbs through them, the deck is mostly spades and an impressive set of diamonds. Tapping them back into a neat deck, she slides them into her other pocket, separate for the moment from the rest of the collected cards until she can sort them in later. She smiles at him, head tilting. She reaches out to squeeze his hand. 

“Don’t let my brother boss you around too much, and tell me if he’s being too much of a hard-ass, okay?” Just because Morizono had relented to giving Niragi - and Last Boss - a chance, it didn’t mean that he was going to go easy on them and she knew that. Still, she’s sure she can convince him to let up on them if Niragi asks. 

He simply laughs in reply, a quick flick of his tongue across his bottom lip. She catches sight of that glinting piercing, causing a warm electric zing through her chest. Her fingers twitch at her side, wanting to reach out and take him by the chin, slip her thumb into his mouth to hook over his bottom row of teeth and pull his mouth open so she can get a look closer at the piercing. 

Her thoughts get away from her before she can rein them in. She imagines backing him against the nearest wall, leaning in close enough to feel the warmth of him, one hand falling against his chest or sliding under his shirt, the other hand creeping up his neck towards his face; her fingers stroking along the soft smooth line of his jaw and slipping through the seam of his lips, her fingertips prodding at and pressing on his tongue, slotted either side of that piercing; the warmth of his mouth closed around her fingers, his face flushed pink, those ink-dark eyes focused down on her. 

She swallows, resists. 

As she turns and heads towards the door, Niragi’s gaze follows her. 

“Hey Maki,” he calls after her, “you didn’t tell me what you do for work.” 

She looks back to him, her smile slightly embarrassed. 

“Well it sounds boring now after everything you said about your job,” she replies, shrugging, “I’m just a bookshop clerk.” 

There’s something about Mira that Ann simply can’t find out. As much as Ann has never truly liked the complication of a mystery, she’s always enjoyed solving them. Mira is another mystery, on top of the borderland, the forest, the cards, and the games. Mysteries on mysteries on mysteries and Ann is half-drowning in them as she claws for answers. 

The forest mission had lead to failure. All of her groups had come back with the same story: endless stretches of trees and greenery and shadows, either turning into impenetrable forests or a long horizon of mountains. No way through, and she’s still no closer to finding a way home. 

She redirects her thoughts. Mira is a closer mystery. Much closer. 

Looping casually around Ann’s office, Mira dances her delicate hands over the shelves and the steel tables, her pointy painted fingernails tapping along. It’s distracting, Ann can hardly focus. She’s leaning over a large, laid-out map, tracing a thick black line around the Tokyo special wards, marking out where the forest encircles the city. 

She feels a breath against her nape and stiffens, twisting to look at Mira. 

Everything about Mira is doll-like. Her big glass-marble eyes and dainty hands and thin stature and soft pink mouth and clear flawless complexion. It’s like she’s made of porcelain, a gothic-dressed bisque doll come to life. Though perhaps not fully to life. There’s something about her eyes, a lifelessness, a lacking of light. 

Mira’s fingers slide over Ann’s arm, dipping over the delicate skin of her inner elbow, then hopping across to follow the curve of her hip. Ann’s gaze flicks away from her to the map again. Mira’s hand plants on the table by Ann’s hip. Her other hand lifts to catch Ann’s chin, forcing her gaze back. 

“Focusing on that map so intensely, why don’t you put your attention on something more fun?” Mira muses, tutting as she taps Ann’s jaw. 

Ann is the taller of the two, by a sizeable margin in fact, but somehow Mira has a way of making her crumble. Her usually well-maintained restraint turns to dust, blown apart and scattered by Mira’s gentlest breath. 

Mira steps minutely closer, still holding Ann’s chin, coaxing her closer.

The kitchen-slash-office’s door swings open and Maki strolls in, familiar notebook poised in her hand. Her chin is dipped, gaze towards her book. Ann jerks her chin out of Mira’s grip and Mira gratefully steps back, one step then two. 

Maki glances up, exhaustion-ringed eyes flicking between the pair. 

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, innocent. 

“Of course not,” Mira says smoothly, her hand folded in front of her, a smile across her face. Living doll. “Ah, you’re collecting the cards. I’ll go fetch mine.” 

Mira crosses the room, she touches a hand briefly to Maki’s arm, then she strolls out the door. Ann watches her go, then takes a breath and flits her gaze to Maki. Turning, she opens a drawer and picks up a deck of cards. Maki walks closer to lean her hip against the steel counter, patient. 

When Ann passes over her card deck, she catches sight of the plaster on Maki’s hand. 

“Did you want me to have a look at that?” she asks, nodding to her hand, “Niragi said it looked bad.” 

Maki’s cheeks tinge pink. She’s so obvious it’s almost embarrassing. It’s almost hard to believe she’s the same girl that had come, blood-covered, into the conference room and slammed a knife into the table not days earlier while yelling at Hatter; now she blushes like a school girl with a crush. 

“It’s really not that bad,” she says, tucking Ann’s cards into her pocket. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, sit,” Ann replies as she motions Maki towards a chair. 

Giving in, Maki sits and sets her notebook on her lap. Ann pulls up a chair across from her, taking her hand and carefully peeling the plaster back. Her lips purse in displeasure at the sight of the wound. It’s not healing up well, weepy and red, no doubt irritated by whatever notes Maki had been taking that morning and the day prior.

“You should’ve come to me earlier,” Ann chastises lightly, “A little higher up and you could’ve cut right through the joint. You could’ve lost your finger.” 

Tending the wound, Ann knits a stitch through the widest point of the cut before wrapping around her hand with a bandage. Maki grimaces and winces, sucking a sharp breath through her teeth, but she vocalises no real complaints even with the lack of anaesthetic. Ann tucks the end of the bandage in, turning her hand to check the wound is properly covered and the bandage is tight enough before releasing her. 

“You should give your hand a rest for a few days, give it some time to heal,” Ann says as she turns to wash her own hands up. 

“I can’t, I’ve still got a whole list of stuff to do on top of this ranking business Danma wants me working on,” Maki replies, stretching her fingers against the tautness of the bandage. 

“This place won’t fall apart if you take a day off.” 

Maki smiles weakly, shrugs, jokes, “Ah, but why take the risk?” 

Standing and turning to head towards the door, she’s stopped as Mira steps in, the swinging door almost clipping her across the tip of her nose. Mira blinks in surprise, offering an apology before holding out cards to her. 

“Mine and Kuzuryu’s,” she explains with that frozen rosy-lipped smile. 

“Oh, great, thanks,” Maki replies, taking the cards. She glances quickly through them then chuckles. “More diamonds. At least there’s some hearts too - do any of us play clubs?” 

Then, after lifting her bandaged hand in a short wave towards Ann, Maki strolls out. The door swings behind her, Mira looks across at Ann and smiles, advancing towards her with steady clicking steps. 

It takes the afternoon into the night and another full, long morning to figure out the ranking and dole out the locker tags. Niragi comes down to help Maki again, especially imposing as she dwindles down to the last couple handfuls, the ones she felt worst about. Those people showed a variety of emotions, some sad, other’s angry and questioning. 

Niragi pushes the angry ones away, threatening to put them at the very bottom of the list until they backed off. Maki pinches at her cut through the bandage, the dull throb of pain something to focus on, some small penance. Apologies get choked back in her throat and she barely manages to meet the eye of the last person. She spends the rest of the day and through the night into early morning in her office, pouring over her notebooks. 

Chapter Text

Maki wakes after far-too-few hours of sleep and stares at the ceiling. She doesn’t feel like she’s slept at all. She doesn’t want to get up. She doesn’t want to think anymore. Not about the Beach, not about the cards locked away in the safe in her office, not about the tags she’d dealt out and how she’d ranked people like cattle. She wants to curl up beneath the covers and fall back asleep and maybe not wake up again. 

That’s not an option though. 

She presses her hands to her face. Rubs the heels of her palms into her eyes. Sighs.

With an effort, she rolls herself out of bed. She dresses, brushes her teeth and hair, shoves her feet into her shoes, and leaves out of her room. It’s later than she usually gets up. She can already hear people as she heads down to her office. She wonders if they hate her, if they’re mad at her for how the rankings fell. 

She feels stupid for worrying about it. What did it matter if she’s liked or not? What would it even change? She’ll still be on the outside, the overlookable wallflower. 

Walking into her office, she pulls a ring of keys out of her pocket and works the lock on the safe open. Inside sits the decks of cards - spades, clubs, diamonds, hearts, all of them spares - and then, set aside, another deck of cards that’s built with one of every card they have thus far. She picks up the latter. For whatever reason, Danma wants them. She can’t see a reason to separate the gathered cards but she’s unwilling to argue and get one of Danma’s half-answers. 

She relocks the safe, sets the keys and deck in her pocket, and leaves her office, closing the door behind her. Heading down the hall, she pauses briefly at the elevator, then changes her mind and turns to go up the stairs instead. Up from eighth, past ninth, and onto the top floor towards Danma’s door. Taking a breath, she knocks on the door and hopes he’s already awake. 

The door swings open, Danma grins in all his obnoxious board-short, robe-wearing glory. 

“Maki! Come in,” he greets, ushering her into the suite. 

She subtly dodges away from the hand he sets on her upper back, her nose twitching to the tang of last-night’s alcohol coming off him. Her gaze turns around the room. The once gorgeously embellished room is now a mess; sheets haphazard on the bed, bottles of liquor empty or half-empty or spilled in not-empty glasses, at least two separate damp piles of towels on the floor, one of the vases on the gilded shelf is knocked over and spilling flowers; she doesn’t even want to know what the bathroom looks like. 

Forcing the scrunch of disgust from her expression, she looks back to Danma and pulls the deck from her pocket, holding it out to him. He grins wider, grabs the cards so fast it could almost be called snatching. Her teeth grit, jaw tight, displeased. She watches him thumb through the cards and loosely crosses her arms. Seemingly satisfied, he taps the cards into a neat pile, crossing the room to set them into a small wooden box. She frowns. 

“Wouldn’t they be safer in my office’s safe?” she asks, concerned at the thought of them just sitting around Danma’s room in a box. 

“I have a plan,” Danma answers dismissively. 

Danma’s plan, Maki finds out later during a meeting, is hiding the box and the cards … somewhere. He refuses to tell them exactly where, instead hiding the answer in a black envelope that he seals with red wax and a gaudy silver ring reading ‘BOSS’ across its curved surface. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she says nothing and simply hides it the envelope inside her office safe until it’s 'needed'. 

She hasn’t slept again. She can’t even remember the last time she had a good night’s rest, but she’s sure it’s been days since she’s had anything more than two or three hours of - admittedly fitful - sleep. There’s a headache pulsing between her temples, worsened from the loud music and the buzz of people, and even further worsening by her ever-running thoughts. She feels nauseous, though she hasn’t eaten much. She skipped breakfast, she doesn’t recall what, if anything, she had for dinner the night before. 

Yukimaru walks a step behind her as usual, listening as she recounts her notes, both of them heading through the busy main annex. She bumps shoulders with someone, quickly stammers an apology, keeps going. 

“We should send some people up through Shinjuku and Shibuya, get the food supplies stocked up. With Hatter’s new rule, maybe we should have swimwear collected and brought in for new residents.” She sighs, rubs the pads of two fingers against her temple. “I feel like I’m forgetting something.” 

Her steps slow to a stumble then to a stop. She rubs a hand over her face. Her headache pulses between her ears, her heartbeat too loud. Her head feels hot. “Makina?” She thinks she hears Yukimaru say, but his voice is distant, like he’s far away. She blinks, eyes opening as she turns to glance at him. Her vision blurs then pinpoints, blackness edging in. 

Is she swaying or is it just in her head? 

Her legs go out from under her. 

The ground rushes to meet her as the blackness closes in. 

Niragi’s only half-listening as Aguni lazily chastises some handful of idiots who’d started a fight earlier that morning. He and Last Boss are ready to jump in if Aguni needs them to, but otherwise Niragi is uninterested in what’s being said. His gaze turns to look around the main annex at the swathes of people milling around. Most of them do next to nothing every day and it’s starting to become infuriating. As he looks around, he stands a little straighter as he spots a familiar pair across the room, Maki with Yukimaru following close behind her. He huffs out quietly with a mild twinge of jealousy. 

His attention focuses in on her, the slight grimace on her face as she talks, the slight squint of her brow as she rubs her temple. He frowns. Was she feeling okay? He knows she’s been working pretty hard since Hatter’s new rules had been implemented, and having to be the one dealing out the tags had hit her pretty hard. He keeps watching her. She stops walking. He leans to glances around people. 

Then she drops. 

“Makina!” he barks in surprise. 

That gets Aguni’s attention, but Niragi is already moving, shoving past people as he races over to Maki. A crowd is starting to form a circle and Niragi pushes through them. On the ground, Maki is unconscious, her dark hair falling over her face. Yukimaru is already crouched down and kneeling beside her. His hands hover, panic painted across his face. 

Niragi drops onto his knees, carefully rolls Maki onto her back. She’s breathing and he sighs, relieved. He reaches gently to cradle her face, brushes her hair back, her pallid freckled cheek fitted into his palm. At this close, he can see just how dark the circles under her eyes are. 

The crowd parts for Aguni. He kneels to the ground and, begrudgingly, Niragi lets himself be elbowed aside as Aguni takes over. He takes Maki’s face in his own hands, patting her cheek gently. 

“Makina,” he says, his eyes focused in on her. 

Niragi looks over, “Yukimaru, what happened?” 

Yukimaru’s head jerks up, his eyes wide. He shrinks under Niragi’s intense gaze. 

“I - I don’t know. She was fine a second ago.” 

With a frown, Niragi’s ear tunes to the mumbling susurrus and he glances around. Their small group is encircled, the Beach’s residents staring, all of them uselessly gawping as Aguni tries to wake Maki. He grits his teeth, frustration boiling under his skin. 

“Fuck off outta here, the lot of you! Give us some space,” he snaps loudly. 

The crowd jolts at the sharpness of his voice, but it takes Last Boss stepping in and starting to pushes people away that they actually start to move. Niragi looks back to Maki, noticing her face start to twitch as she begins to wake. His heart thumps, relief flooding through him. Slowly, her eyes blink open, her brows scrunching. 

“I’ve got you,” Aguni says, soothing, brushing her hair out of her face. 

She groans quietly. 

“Hospital,” she murmurs. 

“What?” he says, confused. 

“That’s what I forgot. The hospitals. We should search them for medicine … and stuff,” she mumbles, trying to sit up, groaning again. Aguni steadies her, helping her up with a hand between the wings of her shoulder blades. Maki continues mumbling, her face scrunching as she rubs her palm-heel against the middle of her forehead, “Ann’s not really a doctor-doctor, instead of her office, maybe we can use one of the rooms as a kinda medical room. I don’t think she really likes people crowding up her space.” 

Aguni’s frown deepens. He squeezes her arm, reaches out to catch her soft chin and force her to look at him. She blinks wearily. 

“Makina, you passed out,” he iterates, stressing the words. 

“I need to-” Seemingly ignoring him, she pulls her face from his grip and looks around for where she’d dropped her notebook. 

“You need to take a break. You’re going to bed,” Aguni insists. 

“Mori.” There’s a whinge to her thin tone. 

“Don’t argue, come on,” he says, standing and helping her to her feet. She wobbles slightly and Aguni steadies her with arm around her shoulders. 

“My notebook,” she murmurs, looking for it again. Niragi, spying where her notebook and pen had skittered off to, picks them up. He smooths out some of the pages that had gotten crumpled before closing it. 

“I’ll go put it in your office,” he offers, “so go get some sleep, okay?” 

She looks at him, her dark-circled gaze soft. After nodding shortly, she finally lets Aguni lead her off towards the nearest elevator. 

In her room, Morizono sits her down on the end of her bed and helps her take her shoes off. Maki runs a hand through her dark hair, loosening knots and flattening the strands that had gotten mussed up when she fainted. She feels more awake now, more cognisant and no longer dizzy but still exhausted. A breath in, then out. Morizono sets her shoes aside and sits on the bed beside her, brushing the long length of her hair over her shoulder.

“I’m really okay, Mori,” she says. 

“You’ve been working too hard,” he replies, “You need to rest.” 

“But -” 

“No 'buts'. Sleep. I’ll get you earplugs if it gets too loud and you need them, but I don’t want to see you up and out of this room until at least sundown. I’ll bring you something to eat later, okay?” 

Her eyes search over his face, notes that familiar overprotective worry. She sighs quietly, relents without arguing. 

“Okay.” 

It takes her a while to finally fall asleep once she’s tucked back into her bed, but by the time Morizono lets himself into the room late that afternoon, he finds her sleeping peacefully and decides to give her another half-hour before waking her up to have something to eat. 

It’s almost the middle of the next day as Maki walks around the hotel, her gaze searching. Morizono wanted her to rest longer after what happened yesterday, but she can’t find herself able to. She’d just been rolling and turning in her bed, going half-mad with nothing to do and her mind still whirling. So, she decides that one day of rest was enough and she’d only do half of what he wants. Technically she won’t be doing the work. 

There’s a particular resident she’s got her eye out for, the problem comes in finding her. When she can’t find her within the confines of the hotel building, she takes to heading outside. For a moment, she considers both the pool and the closest garden. Her gaze casts along. There are fewer people around the gardens, she decides, and heads that way. 

It’s quickly apparent that she’s chosen right. 

Sumie sits cross-legged on the edge of the garden. She’s got a sketchbook sitting by her and a drink hanging from her slender-fingered hands, dripping condensation. Maki’s gaze flicks over her. She’s pretty, slim with willowy limbs and pale skin that’s been slightly sunburned since the swimwear rule was implemented. During one of the games, she must’ve been injured since there’s a thin healing scar along her cheek. 

Maki isn’t quite sure who’d invited her to the Beach, but she remembers her coming in with one of Ann’s crowds. She’d ended up ranking in the middle range after handing in a small deck of mostly clubs cards. From what Maki knows, she’s quiet but well-liked. 

“Sumie?” Maki starts as she approaches. The woman looks up, smiles with a slight edge of nervousness. Maki stops a few steps away, giving her space. “You’re an artist, aren’t you?” 

“I - well, I dabble, a bit, I suppose?” 

“Hatter has a request - if you’re willing - a simple mural of sorts to keep track of the cards we’ve collected. There’s a wall in the council room we think will work. We can get you whatever supplies you need, just tell me and I’ll have someone sent out.” The lies roll so easily from her tongue that she’s starting to feel sick over it. The plan is her own, not Hatter’s. She shifts her notebook in her hands. “I drew up an idea.” 

Sumie smiles and holds out her hand, so Maki flips through her notebook and passes it to her. Sumie takes a look at it, then nods and passes the book back. 

“I’m sure I can do that,” she says. 

Her voice is nice, Maki decides, calm and sweet and perfectly suiting her. 

Later in the afternoon, Maki and Sumie are in the conference room. Earlier, Yukimaru had been sent out with a list Sumie had written up and now she was sorting through the spray paint cans and sketching up stencils. Maki strolls along the sidewall, pushing open the conference room windows and drawing the curtains back, looping the ties around to keep them pinned back and allowing the fresh air in. 

When she’s done, she hops up to sit on the edge of the table in the middle of the room, leaning her hands on her thighs as she watches Sumie work. There’s no real reason for her to stay, she’s not being much help, but Sumie is nice and calm and she doesn’t seem to mind Maki’s company, so she stays. 

Sumie works in peaceful silence. She cuts out stencils and stands on a chair to line masking tape into neat, even rectangles on the back wall. Maki swings her legs as she looks back through her notebook, adding to her plans for the indoor pool area and its adjoined private garden. She strikes through her original scribbled idea for the indoor pool room and flips the page to redraw it, taking into account Yukimaru’s measurements that she’s taped in on the opposite page. 

“If I can speak candidly?” Sumie says as she cuts out a heart suit stencil. 

Maki gives a wave of her hand, not looking up from her book, “Of course.” 

“It doesn’t seem like 'paradise' if you must work so hard.” 

People kept saying that to her, all 'take a break' and 'you work too hard'. After she’d passed out, it had all started up again. Didn’t they realise this place didn’t run if she didn’t do the work? Who else was going to do it? Danma in all his infinite indolence? 

She shrugs noncommittally, bouncing her pen between her thumb and finger. 

“The work has to be done. It’s just a job.” 

“Even jobs have times to clock off and relax.” 

She doesn’t have a reply for that, so she says nothing. Her frown twitches minutely. Chin dropping, she looks back down to her notebook, back to sketching lines. As she scribbles, the abrasive scent of paint fills the room as Sumie starts on the wall. 

They work in silence, Sumie painting at the wall, Maki with her notes. Sumie squares out lines of red and black, 26 rectangles of each. Maki draws out multiple sketchy ideas for the indoor pool area, varying aesthetics pulled out from memories of magazines and books. When she can’t figure out something she likes, she moves onto the private garden. She tries out different styles; string lights or lanterns or little path lights jammed in the garden beds, terracotta or decorative ceramic pots, cutting the plants back or letting them grow wild, various styles of paintings on the walls from simple to graffiti to a full mural. 

Sumie chuckles lightly as she comes to stand by the table, sorting through her stencils. Maki look up, brows lifting in question. 

“You know, you dress like him - your brother, I mean, it’s like you’re his mini-me,” Sumie says, amused. There’s no insulting intention to it from the tone of her voice, but Maki still frowns. 

“I don’t,” she replies shortly, pouting, then looks down at herself. 

She hadn’t gotten around to adhering to Hatter’s swimwear rule, still dressing in her usual clothes. The green camo pants that were a size too large and cinched over the swell of her hips, her tank top cropped just enough to show a thin strip of pale skin between it’s hem and her waistband; the only things that weren’t quite her brother’s style were the scuffed sneakers and the jewellery, bands of beaded bracelets around her wrists and various rings across her fingers and the long thin silver chain of her necklace. 

Her frown deepens. Perhaps she did dress like her brother. She’d often stolen shirts of his, too big button-ups that she’d wear open over her own shirts or tie up to fit her smaller frame. 

Sumie laughs and leans to squeeze her hand. Paint smudges across her fingers, but Maki can’t find it in herself to care much. 

“Don’t look so worried, it’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she comforts, “but you are so pretty. You should dress to accentuate it.” 

Maki flushes slightly, “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” 

“Well,” Sumie smiles, “How about, when we get back home, you let me take you shopping?” An expression must twist on Maki’s face because Sumie laughs again, “You look so surprised!” 

“It’s just …” It’s embarrassing to admit, “Nobody’s ever asked to take me shopping before.” 

There’s a twitch across Sumie’s visage, part surprise, part confusion, that she tries to hide behind a casual smile. Maki notes the slight glint of pity in her eyes and feels her stomach twist, suddenly feeling as pathetic as she had through years of friendless teenagedom. 

“Really? You mustn’t have very good friends then.” 

Maki’s hands flit awkwardly in her lap, twisting a silver ring around her finger as she laughs thinly. 

“Not many friends at all, really.” 

The office has become a kind of safe place for Maki. It’s comfortable and situated far enough away from the ground floor that she’s seldom bothered unless someone is looking specifically for her. The music playing loudly at the party below is muffled, she can only just make out the beat and the sound of people. She has no idea how they have so much energy. 

Sitting on top of a table by the window, Maki basks in the midday sun, using the natural lighting to read. The book’s pages are soft and yellowed with age, almost threatening to crumble under her touch as she turn each one. She’s relented to Morizono’s will again for a day, taking some time to herself, though not before passing off some tasks to Yukimaru. 

She sips a canned coffee, setting it down beside her as she thumbs another page over. Leaning against the side wall of a cabinet, she stretches her legs and crosses them at the ankles, propping the book in one hand. As her eyes trail over the words, she can almost imagine she’s back in her bookshop, reading on her break with the warm sun on her skin and a new book in her hand. The illusion is broken as she hears a knock at her door. 

Looking up, she’s surprised to see Mira standing in the doorway, her delicate hands folded in front of her. Mira smiles at her and Maki quickly shifts, closing the book and letting her legs hang down over the side of the table. 

“Miss Kano, hi,” she says. 

It’s not often the other woman comes to see her. Usually she’s hanging around Kuzuryu, Ann, or Danma. Still smiling, Mira walks further into the room and Maki notices that she’s joined by two girls - a pair she hasn’t seen before. She tilts her head to get a better look at them. They look young, and from the looks of their outfits, they must have been high school students. She frowns slightly. It’s been rare to see any teenagers in the borderland. Surviving this world has been hard enough as an adult, she can’t imagine what it’s been like for these kids. 

“Hello, Makina. Sorry to interrupt, but we have some new people joining.” Mira says as she guides the two young girls ahead of her to stand between herself and Maki. “This is Inoue Momoka and Kujo Asahi.” 

They both seem nervous, neither fully meeting Maki’s eyes for more than milliseconds. They stand close to each other, shoulder to shoulder. She doesn’t blame them, she can’t imagine how difficult they must have had it, especially if they’d been alone just the two of them for however long. 

Hopping down from the table, she heads back over to her desk and pulls the notebook out. She flips the book open, picks a pen out of cup, and leans her free hand against the desk. 

“It’ll just be a few questions, nothing too difficult,” she explains. Momoka nods, her gaze still downturned. Asahi glances briefly to Mira, then looks back to Maki and nods. 

Maki runs through some easy questions, their names, games they preferred, if they wanted to be put on a team together, she figures she doesn’t need to ask about their jobs, then she takes their cards. Between them, they only have a small deck, it won’t take her long to count them out and sort the pair into their ranks. With that all complete and her notes all written down, the girls glance nervously back towards Mira again. 

“Fantastic, welcome - officially - to the Beach, girls,” Mira says cheerily, clasping her hands together. Momoka and Asahi smile, slightly nervous, in reply. “Come along now, we -” 

“Actually, Miss Kano, could I have a word with you?” Maki cuts in before the trio can leave. Her gaze sets on the teens, “You two are free to explore the Beach at your leisure, I won’t keep Miss Kano long.” 

Mira’s smile tenses minutely, her black eyes on Maki. 

“Of course. Go on ahead, girls, I’ll come find you later,” she says, waving the young pair out the door. The girls glance at each other, then walk out the door and head off down the hall. 

“Get the door please,” Maki says. 

Setting her notebook and the girls’ cards down, she moves around to the front of the desk and leans there, across from Mira. Her hands fall to either side of her, resting on the desk to resist crossing her arms. She tries to give off an air of casualness, but the air is curiously tense. Mira swings the door closed, then steps back into place a few feet from Maki. There’s a quiet beat as they stare at each other. 

“There’s something I’ve been curious about,” Maki starts. 

Mira just smiles, waiting. 

“Danma’s card plan - it was actually your idea, wasn’t it?” 

Mira’s smile twitches slightly at the corners. 

“We simply had a conversation. It was his idea,” she answers, her hands flick down the sides of her long dark skirt, “He has quite the interest in the cards, though I’m sure you already know that.” 

“In his speech, Danma said he had a 'source' who told him about the cards - are you saying that’s not you?” Maki counters. 

She knows Danma could’ve simply been making things up, that it could’ve been all pretty lies just to convince the residents to do his bidding. He’d been interested in the cards since before they’d even started working on the Beach, she remembers this. 

In truth, she’s curious to see how Mira reacts. 

Her reaction is subtle. A slight tension in her clasped hands, her painted nails digging slightly between her pointy knuckles; her smiles stretches ever so slightly wider, a small flash of neat white teeth between her rosy lips, forced calm casualness, making slight wrinkles at the corners of her eyes; her head cocks the tiniest bit to the side, seemingly observing Maki as much as she’s being observed. Maki keeps herself still as to not give her own thoughts away, her hands are loose in their grip on the table, her feet planted shoulder-width on the ground. Her eyes stay focused on Mira, not looking away. 

“You’ve been working too hard, Makina. First you pass out, now you’re acting paranoid. Perhaps you should consider listening to your brother and take a longer break.” It’s cooed, placating like she’s talking to a child, but there’s an underlying edge to it - something sharp in carefully warning, as if Maki is toeing a line she shouldn’t be. 

Maki’s seen enough. She hadn’t expected to get a clear answer out of Mira anyway. With a forced easy smile, Maki lets her gaze shift. She looks down to her side, to her notebook and the girls’ cards. 

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll take the rest of the day. Momoka and Asahi will have to wait until tomorrow for me to put them in the ranks,” she replies. 

“I’ll let them know.” And with that, Mira turns to leave, swishing out the door and swinging it closed again behind her. Maki watches her leave, the smile slipping from her lips as soon as the woman is out of sight. She doesn’t know what game Mira is playing, but Maki’s sure there must be something she’s hiding. 

Down in the main annex, Maki spies Niragi and Last Boss as they’re coming back from a game. It’s not hard to find them, they stand out as they walk through the crowd. Niragi’s head is thrown back as he laughs, she can just make out the sound of it over the rest of the residents’ din and it twitches a small smile onto her own mouth. Last Boss doesn’t smile or laugh much, always rather stone-faced, but she can tell the glaze of amusement over his tattooed features. 

Niragi turns and spots her through the crowd. A smile grows across his face as he calls her name, striding over towards her. 

She’s been collecting cards for most of the last few hours, noting down who won what and which cards were new. From her wrist hangs a small bag that she’s been shoving the cards into. She flips her notebook closed and pushes up to sit on the front desk in the main hall as Niragi comes over. He slows to a stop in front of her, still smiling as he pulls the set of his team’s cards from his pocket and holds them out. She thanks him as she takes them, marking them down in her notebook then tucking them away in her bag. 

Before they get any chance to speak, another group of players are stepping towards her to hand in their cards. She shoots an apologetic look Niragi’s way. He nods back, understanding, turning to go rejoin Last Boss. Swallowing back a sigh, she looks back to the group, smiles, and takes their cards. 

Later in the night, when the groups are all back and all the cards are tucked safely away, Maki is holed up on the second floor annex in the corner she’d claimed for herself. She’s drinking cider, non-alcoholic, peach, unwilling to face Morizono’s judgement if he passes by. Her fingertips slide in a circle around the top of her glass, watching the carbonation bubble. She’s left her notebook in her office; for the first time in what feels like forever, her hands are free of the feel of paper and plastic pens. 

There’s music blaring outside, it’s muffled and she can’t make out the words. She’s so focused on it that she doesn’t notice Niragi coming until he’s standing right beside the couch. Blinking, she refocuses and glances his way. He smiles, motions to the couch, and she nods for him to sit. He sets his drink down on the table, soft drink. She notes she’s never to the point of embarrassing over-drunkenness like a lot of other people around the Beach, or perhaps he just holds his liquor better than they do. 

He’s calm and relaxed, an easy smile curving on his lips. She thinks about his laugh from earlier in the night, the flash of light on his piercings and the wide smile. Such revellers coming back from the games were in the minority. She doesn’t get it. 

“What?” he asks with a small smirk. 

She rests her elbow on her thigh, drops her chin on her upturned palm. 

“I don’t know how you’re never freaked out. You’re always so … I don’t know, it sometimes feels like you’re enjoying yourself.” 

Niragi pauses, shrugs, “If I’m honest, I think the games are kind of fun.” 

“Fun?” Her brows furrow in disbelief, “You could die playing any of them. Aren’t you worried about that at least?” 

“I don’t want to die, but I guess it doesn’t worry me that much.” He shifts in his seat, leans his arms on his legs, his hands hanging loosely, “Sometimes I feel like I don’t even want to get home. Pretty sure nobody’s waiting for me back in reality anyway.” 

“What about your family?” 

For a moment, he thinks about his mother, then quickly pushes the thought of her away. Her wilting fingers and sad dark eyes, the ones everyone used to say he got from her. When had he last seen her? When had he last visited or even called her? 

“I don’t think they’d miss me,” he replies finally, a slight bitterness infecting his tone. They’d probably be better off without him too. 

Maki frowns, her eyes dip down towards the locker tag and the loops of bracelets on her wrist. An idea pops into her head. She slips one of the bracelets off. It’s a stretchy band of braided elastic thread strung with round, lapis-coloured beads. Shuffling closer to him and reaching out, she grabs his hand and slides the bracelet onto his wrist. He looks at her, his dark eyes wide in surprise. She runs her thumb over his knuckles. 

“I’m two numbers ahead of you, you know? If Danma is - by some miracle - right and these cards can get us home, then when I get back, I’ll wait for you and you can give me that back.” She squeezes his hand. “So you’d better win all of your games and collect all those cards and come find me back in the real world - and you’d better not keep me waiting long.” 

Her eyes, warm brown and serious, are locked on him. Her soft hand holding his, the new unfamiliar weight of the bracelet on his wrist, the beads warmed by her own skin. 

“Promise me,” she says, her voice quiet, tinged desperate. 

He swallows under the intensity of her gaze, then nods. His voice is soft when he replies, as if afraid to break the surrounding bubble of quiet. 

“Yeah. I promise.” 

She settles then, reassured, breathing out, squeezing his hand once more before releasing him to reach for her drink. She doesn’t move away from him, still close to his side despite all the open space on the couch. He makes no complaint, his leg shifting to bump his knee against her own, sparks spreading up his thigh from the slight contact. 

The next morning, Niragi heads off to go talk to Aguni about some complaint a few residents had made to him about someone causing trouble. He’s still not sure if he’s cut out for this supposed 'bodyguard' business, but Aguni had asked him and Niragi is determined to not let him down. And if that means relaying people’s annoying grievances and getting in the middle of fights and making sure there isn’t any trouble going down, then so be it. 

It helps that Aguni is someone worth following. He’s impressive. Strong. If Niragi had had even a fraction of similarity to him, maybe his teenage years wouldn’t have been such hell, maybe he would’ve been able to stand up to those bastards bullying him, maybe he could have fought them and not been so pathetic. He has a chance now. If he can be better, he can show Aguni he’s worth keeping around. So he’ll be better. 

He’ll be useful and helpful to Maki and Aguni both, whatever it takes.

Niragi finds Aguni in the seldom-used gym on the second floor. Aguni’s the only one who uses it, if he’s not with Maki or Hatter then Niragi knows where to look. Walking into the gym, he stands, waits and, when Aguni pauses in his workout, Niragi starts to recount the complaints he’d received. 

It takes Niragi a moment to notice, but Aguni doesn’t seem like he’s listening. Niragi can feel the sear of his eyes on his wrist. Following his gaze down, he remembers the bracelet as soon as spies it. Maki’s bracelet. Aguni’s sister Maki’s very distinctive bracelet. Subtly he tucks his wrist behind his back, not meeting Aguni’s eye as he clears his throat and continues. 

Whatever Aguni thinks, he doesn’t say anything about it or demand the bracelet back - not that Niragi would’ve handed it over anyway. Aguni entrusts Niragi and Last Boss to deal with the situation, waving him away to get back to his workout. As Niragi leaves the gym, he thumbs at the beads, carefully turned away from Aguni’s view before he even reaches for it. 

Sitting at her desk in her office, Maki marks through her notebook, checking through card numbers after the games last night and making sure she hadn’t missed anyone. Downstairs, Yukimaru has gotten a group together to work on the indoor pool room. She’ll go check on them later to see how they’re faring. By the wall, she has a set of tools for working on the private garden. She’s still not entirely happy with her idea for the it, but she might as well get started on cleaning it up. 

A shadow fall across her desk and she looks up. For only a moment she’s surprised she didn’t hear someone coming in, but then she sees it’s Last Boss and the surprise fizzles away. It’s not often she sees him alone though. Some hopeful spark makes her sit up a little straighter, glancing subtly past him to see if Niragi was around. She masks her disappointment as that spark is stomped out, and instead smiles at Last Boss. 

“Hey, everything okay? Someone looking for me or you just checking in?” she asks, setting her pen down and flipping her notebook closed on it. 

Wordlessly, he lays something on the desk between them. A sheathed knife, not overly ornate. Maki stares at it for a moment, then reaches out to pick it up. She slips the lacquered sheath up, revealing the shiny blade of a small dagger, the entire thing is no bigger than maybe 22-ish centimetres. 

“It’s a kaiken,” he explains, “for self-defense. Since you bent that other knife.” 

He speaks in that usual slow, stilted way of his, as though every word took tremendous effort. 

She wants to ask where he got it and half-a-dozen other questions. Instead, she simply smiles and slips the sheath back into place. There’s no reason to complicate things with questions, especially when she knows how Last Boss doesn’t like to talk much. It’s a gift, a kindness. It’s sweet even. 

“Thank you,” she says. 

Last Boss nods shortly, then his pinpoint gaze drifts past her. She quirks a brow and turns in her seat, follows his gaze to the small gathering of penguin figurines sitting on the shelf behind her desk. 

“Niragi brings you those,” he says. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised, Last Boss hangs around Niragi possibly more than she does, and they play more games together. Before she can confirm, he’s continuing. “You gave him that bracelet. Do you care about him?” 

There’s a bluntness to the question that she’s come to expect from Last Boss, but it still throws her slightly off kilter. 

Her reply, however, comes easily without hesitation: “Yes.” 

For a briefness, they just stare at each other, the distance of the desk between them feeling far smaller than it is, their eyes meeting in a kind of mutual understanding. He asks nothing else. Just nods again, then turns and leaves out the office door as quietly as he came in, leaving nothing but a lingering presence and the kaiken in her hands. 

Chapter Text

Maki and Ann stand side-by-side in Maki’s office. Through the window blinds, the setting sun casts a hazy orange glow across the room. They’re pouring over a set of maps Maki had pinned up. Ann marks off areas of new game locations; for days, she’s been sending off groups early to follow the signs and find the game arenas for each night, reporting back over the walkie-talkies. So far, no location had been used twice. 

In Ann’s own office, Maki has seen similar maps laid out on one of the steel counters. She’s sure Ann’s still trying to figure this world out, to find out who’s behind all of this. So far, she’s had no mentionable luck. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Maki says. Ann glances her way, she continues, “That we haven’t caught any of the people setting the games up?” 

“The game arenas change every night, it’s not like we can wait around for them and catch them in the act,” Ann replies. 

“Still, you’d think we’d have found at least one of them.” She pauses, humming thoughtfully, “Maybe they play in the games too?” 

“Quite a risk to take.” 

Maki makes a short noise in agreement. 

Ann makes another mark on the map. 

“There’s a new game arena in Chiyoda?” Maki asks. 

“You want to take it? You’re running low on visas, right?” 

She shrugs, “Might as well.” 

Scooping her button-up and car keys off her desk, the pair heads downstairs. 

In the annex, Ann deals the page of game arenas to Morizono, letting him send groups off to their games. For a moment, Maki pauses to watch. He has a presence in front of a crowd, different from Danma, but still something that she didn’t have the word for. He commands attention. He’s flanked by Niragi and Last Boss, the both of them waiting and watching, a pair of intimidating shadows behind her brother. 

Niragi’s the first to notice her watching from still a few steps up staircase. He smiles, a flash of white teeth in her direction, and waves. It’s just enough movement to draw Morizono’s attention, making him turn to see her too. Seeing she’s been caught, she hops down the last few steps to walk over to the trio, swinging her button-up at her side. 

“You’re playing tonight?” Morizono asks as she reaches them. 

She bobs her head in a nod, pulling on her button-up and straightening it across her shoulders. 

“There’s a new arena in Chiyoda.” 

“You’re going alone?” 

It’s obvious he doesn’t like the idea of it. She nods past him towards Niragi. 

“Let me steal Niragi for the night then.” 

He doesn’t seem to like that idea either. 

“Just be careful,” he sighs finally, then snaps to look at Niragi, whose face immediately drops the smile to turn serious under his gaze, “And you watch out for her.” 

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation. 

Smiling, an eager Maki ducks around Morizono and hooks her hand into the crook of Niragi’s elbow, pulling him along with her before her brother can change his mind. As soon as Niragi is turned away from Morizono, his smile returns as the pair head towards the parking garage. 

With more cars being fixed up, they’re no longer the only drivers on the road. Maki has to take it slower, not able to race along down the streets how she wanted to. She and Niragi talk about nothing in particular as she drives; what they thought the game might be, the books in Maki’s room and the one’s she’d left unfinished back in reality, video games Niragi had been working on and others that he missed playing. 

She turns the Skyline through the streets towards Chiyoda, following the glowing signs until she’s slowing into a space across from the brick walls surrounding a high school. Putting the car in park, she leans on the steering wheel, looking at the lit-up building. 

“A school, huh?” she muses, “Wasn’t expecting that.” 

Glancing sideways at Niragi, she notes the grimace that’s twisted on his mouth, his dark eyes locked on the building across from them. Her brows furrow, then she knuckles into his bicep, trying to redirect his attention. His eyes don’t shift over, his expression set unhappily. 

“You good?” she asks. 

“I hated high school,” Niragi grumbles, his voice rough with disdain. 

Maki laughs shortly and he perks a little at the sound. 

“You’re not the only one.” He drags his eyes from the school to look at her and she shrugs, continuing, “Wasn’t just high school, pretty much all my schooling years totally sucked.” 

She hops out of the car, knocking her door shut with her elbow. As she makes her way around the front of the car, Niragi clambers out of his side, then hurries to catch up to her as she crosses the road. 

“What happened?” he asks as he falls into step with her. 

Maki hums quietly, taking a breath as she strolls through the gate onto the school grounds. 

“My brother had … a reputation. He and Danma, back when they were sixteen, they got into this huge fight with this street gang. Totally crushed them, these two teenager delinquents against this whole crew of assholes.” A small proud smile twists at the memory, then slips as she continues, “They’ve been friends ever since but it gave them a kind of … infamy, I guess you could call it. People were afraid of them.” 

She sighs, “It eventually got around that I was his sister, so people ended up being scared of me too. People didn’t want to be my friend, didn’t even want to talk to me unless it drew attention onto them, like they thought he’d just appear and come in swinging. It felt like … have you ever seen those videos of sharks? The overhead ones where you see them swim through a school of fish and the fish just give them this wide berth?” She motions out a curve with her arm, he nods. “Yeah, it felt like that. Didn’t matter how toothless I tried to make myself, nobody was interested in getting close to me.” 

He frowns, “What did Aguni think?” 

“I never told him. He already felt guilty enough because of our father, I didn’t want him to have to worry any more about me.” Niragi’s brow furrows at her. Feeling like she’s said too much, she smiles weakly, fiddles with the hem of her button-up, and nods towards the entrance doors of the school. “Come on, let’s get in there before the game starts without us.” 

Walking through the halls of the school makes an old sickening feeling twist up through Niragi’s torso, from his gut all the way up his throat. He can feel all his old aches; fingers crunched under shoes, ribcage pummelled with kicks and punches and baseballs and bats, face busted and bruised, tongue pierced through. He can almost taste bile in the back of his throat as the buried memories dig themselves free and close chokingly in on him. 

Tension strains his body taut, his movements stiff. It’s a conscious effort to keep his head up and not fall into old habits of shrinking himself. He wasn’t that kid anymore, that kid who walked around his shoulders drawn in and his head tucked down, trying to be invisible. Not that it had mattered. Making himself smaller had never stopped his bullies. 

But now he’d never let himself be small again. 

At his side, Maki walks along, her head turning on a swivel as she looks around the empty halls, arrows guiding them deeper into the school’s labyrinth. He imagines her, younger, walking halls like these while her classmates curved to avoid her. Did she hold her head high or did she shrink too? Had she been lonely like he was? He wants to tell himself he would have befriended her, but he knows himself better. He would’ve been pathetic, he would’ve been scared of Aguni back then too and stayed away from her. 

Bitterly, he thinks she wouldn’t want to have been friends with him back then either. Back when he was such a fucking wimp, with bruises that never got a chance to fully heal and desk drawers of broken glasses, rarely speaking after they pierced his tongue when he tried to beg a teacher for help. Apparently snitches don’t get stitches, they get needles through tongues. 

She turns to meet his eyes. His gaze flicks over her. Her warm brown eyes, the soft sloping curves of her face, her light spray of freckles and the spot near her mouth, dark brown fringe falling over her brows. Her expression is soft, kind. No one else looks at him like that. Just her. 

A small smile tugs at the corners of her perpetually pouting mouth and she nods towards an open door. 

“Looks like we’ve found it,” she says, “You ready?” 

He shoves the old memories back into their graves, packs them tightly down, then he nods with reignited determination. 

“Yeah.” 

Maki leads into the classroom and Niragi follows. There’s a few people already waiting, some milling around the room, others sitting at or on top of the desks as the pair register in. Niragi’s still stiff across the sharp lines of his body. His gaze casts distrustingly over the people in the room. Maki’s not sure what to make of it, she soon supposes that it must be something to do with whatever the reason was that he hated high school. Reaching over, she brushes the backs of her fingers against his knuckles, grasping for his attention. 

She bumps him away from the front of the classroom, hopping up onto one of the short student desks and loosely swinging her legs. Niragi’s tense aura is overwhelming. His expression is pinched in discomfort. She reaches out again, plucks at the beaded bracelet so it snaps lightly against his wrist. He - finally - looks her way, his gaze flicking between the bracelet and her face. 

“What do you think the game’s going to be? End-of-term exam?” she jokes, trying to relax him. He huffs a quiet laugh, leaning against the back of the chair across from her, crossing his arms lazily over his chest. 

“More like they’re going to make us do club activities,” he replies. 

“Damn, I’m out of luck then if we’re stuck in this classroom - I was on the track team.” 

They both chuckle again, then a short bell-ringing jingle plays across the PA system. It echoes, uncomfortably eerie, across the empty school. Maki sits up a little straighter. Niragi pushes away from the chair, moving to stand by her side instead. The group of players go quiet, listening as they wait for the game’s rules to be explained. 

“Four of diamonds. Game, Uta-garuta.” 

Maki perks. She knows that game - and even better, she knows every poem involved. Glancing around, she looks for the deck. With two hundred cards, it shouldn’t have been hard to find, but she sees nothing. In fact, the classroom is mostly empty beyond the student desks, the lockers in the back of the room, and the podium at the front of the room with a printer on top. 

“Torifuda are hidden across the school grounds. Players will form teams of two to find the corresponding torifuda to finish each yomifuda poem. Game complete when all one hundred yomifuda have matching torifuda, the team with the most held cards will be declared the winners. Losing teams will be eliminated.” 

A murmur ripples across the classroom, a susurrus of players’ concerns. 

“Form teams of two now.” 

She can feel Niragi step closer to her. As if there were anyone else in the room she’d choose. She reaches, finds his hand without even having to look, her fingertips tripping over his palm. Across the room, the other players slowly pair up, making careful considerations for who might give them the best chance at winning. 

Soon, after the other four teams are formed, Maki and Niragi head to stand amid them at the front of the classroom. Atop the podium, the printer whirs and spits out a yomifuda. The voice returns from the speaker system. 

“Chūnagon Yukihira. Tachiwakare Inaba no yama no mine ni ōru matsutoshi kikaba ima kaeri kon.” 

Maki doesn’t need to hear the whole poem, instead she turns to glance around the classroom. The rules had said they had to find the cards, it wasn’t so simple as having the cards just laid out before them in a huge pile. At the back of the room, there’s a bunch of pictures pinned to a wall-wide cork board. Her eyes pause on a picture of Mount Kinka. 

Mount Kinka which had once been known as Mount Inaba. 

As the poem dwindles to a close, she crosses the room towards the cork board. The other players turn to watch her. She pulls the pushpin from the Mount Kinka picture. Flipping the picture over, she finds a card taped to the backside. Prying the card off, she finds the last half of Chūnagon Yukihira’s poem. Back to the front of the room, then she lays the card atop the printed one. A congratulatory ‘ding!’ plays over the speaker. 

Maki plucks up the cards and turns to smile at Niragi. 

The printer starts to whir again, another yomifuda drops out. 

The voice starts to read the next poem and the game officially begins. 

Niragi matches her poem for poem. They move in tandem through the school, finding cards for future poems. He keeps hold of the unused cards while she pockets their winners. 

They find Ono no Komachi’s and Kōkō Tennō’s torifuda in a student garden, Kawara no Sadaijin’s in the folds of a student’s long-abandoned sewing project, and Ise and Motoyoshi Shinnō’s in a pair of lockers marked with small peeling heart stickers. Ukon, Taira no Kanemori, and Mibu no Tadami’s are all found in desks across classrooms 3-A, B and C. The desks had been marked with heart stickers, the sticker on the desk with Ukon’s torifuda had been ripped in half. 

“Ōnakatomi no Yoshinobu,” Niragi muses, then starts to recount the poem, “Mikakimori wji no taku hi no yoru wa moe hiru wa kie tsutsu mono wo koso moe. Fire, kindles, burning - I think I saw fire extinguisher in one of the classrooms.” 

“Or it could be near one of the doors; the guardsman, guarding the gates,” she counters. “Might as well check both.” 

Niragi nods and they head off towards the classroom first. 

Sliding the door by the back of the classroom open, they walk in. While Niragi turns to the fire extinguisher near the bag lockers, Maki takes the chance to look around for any other cards. There’s a smell in the air that makes her nose twitch. It’s … familiar, but she can’t quite place it. She follows it to the front of the classroom, then freezes as she passes the last row of desk. 

“Niragi -” 

“Aha, told you it was about the fire,” he says, distracted as he peels the stuck torifuda from the base of the extinguisher. 

“Niragi,” she says more intensely. 

“What?” 

He looks down the room at her, frowning slightly at the distressed pinch of her expression. Shoving the torifuda into his pocket, he crosses the room to her side. She turns and he follows her gaze. Two dead bodies lay in puddles of their own blood between the front row of desks and the teacher’s podium. Niragi steps cautiously closer, kneeling by one of the bodies as he searches their pockets. 

It’s happening again, she realises with a sick twist in her stomach. Just like in the five of clubs, someone is willing to kill to make sure they’re the last player left alive to win. 

“No cards?” she asks. Niragi shakes his head 'no'. She breathes out, forcing herself to calm down. “We need to keep moving.” 

Picking up their pace, they scour through the school as they dig up more cards. More and more cards fill their pockets. Mentally, Maki calculates how many cards they’d need. With now four teams left, they’d need to find more than 25. They’ve got 19. Maki runs through poems in her head until the words muddle together into dissonance roaring between her ears. She can feel a headache coming on, a stinging pressure behind her eye. 

She turns, starts to walk up a walled-in staircase when Niragi reaches out and grabs her wrist, yanking her back right as a body topples down the steps. A gasp punches past her lips, her upper back colliding with Niragi’s chest, his hands holding her arms to steady her. She stares. The body - one of the male players - lays at the bottom of the staircase, his neck crooked at a grotesque angle, his eyes staring lifelessly into nothing. 

Maki pulls out of Niragi’s grip, skirting around the dead man’s body to hop two steps up and look up the staircase. Coming down the other side of the stairs is another team of players; one wiry and thin, the other taller and bulkier. There’s blood on the skinnier man’s hands. Maki’s hand slides into her pocket, finds the lacquered sheath of the kaiken. She presses her thumbnail into the gap between sheath and hilt. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, anger turning her voice harsh. 

“Winning this game,” the taller player says. She holds her ground, grips tighter around the kaiken as the pair get closer. The skinner player glances past her. 

“Hey! Those are our’s,” he snaps. 

Maki looks over her shoulder. Niragi is standing up from crouching beside the dead man; in his hands, he holds a small deck of torifuda. He thumbs through them, then neatly taps them together against his palm. 

“Actually they were his,” Niragi points at the dead man, “Now they’re our’s.” 

“What happened to his partner?” Maki cuts in. 

“She’s dead,” the taller snaps at her, “Hey! Hand over those cards.” 

He gets another few steps closer to Maki to try and push past her and Niragi moves. It’ll do them no good getting into a fight right now. His hand closes around her’s and he pulls her back down the stairs. As soon as her feet find solid ground, he tugs her into a jog that turns quickly into a forward-leaning run. The other two shout after them. Their footsteps echo loudly down the halls, they take corners at random, running and not stopping until the distance quells the sound of their pursuers. 

They dart into a nearby classroom and carefully, quietly, close the door behind them. Stepping away, they move to a corner where they can watch both the front and back doors. The room is filled of the sound of their heavy breathing, panting as they try to catch their respective breaths. Niragi leans against the wall, tilting his head back. Maki leans forward to set her hands on her thighs, hunching over. 

“How many?” she asks between heavy breaths. When he looks at her, she motions to his hand still gripping the torifuda. 

“Thirteen,” he pants. 

She sighs around an inhale-exhale, rubbing a hand over her face, swiping away a thin sheen of sweat. 32 cards. 3 teams left. Now they need at least 34. Or more than 50 if those guys go after the other team. She stands, stretches, twists at her waist. Reaching out, she taps her knuckles against the side of his thigh. 

“Come on.” 

Niragi fits the torifuda into his pocket among the rest. As they move quickly through the school, Maki’s hand doesn’t stray far from the kaiken. She can’t risk someone getting the jump on them, on her. They can’t split up. Niragi doesn’t have a weapon and she knows she would worry too much if she couldn’t keep an eye on him. She can protect him, and she’ll do what she has to if push comes to shove. 

They gather more and more cards until finally she’s picking up the 44th one in their set. A jingle rings out across the PA system. 

“All torifuda have been found. All remaining teams return to the classroom.” 

Maki and Niragi look at each other. There’s a slight worried tension that fills the air between them. 44 is not 50. If the third team is dead, now they’re out of luck to win this game. She forces a kind of determination into her expression and he matches it. They’ll win. They have to. 

They’re not the first team back to the classroom. Maki breathes a sigh of relief to see the third team, a man and woman, standing off to the far side of the room, waiting. A yomifuda sits in front of the printer, clearly picked up and then put back down, so Maki supposes that team mustn’t have the match. She thinks to approach and check it herself, but resists, deciding to wait until they’re all there. 

After a few more long awkward silent minutes, the men from the staircase enter the room. They glare towards Maki and Niragi. Maki looks away, steeling her expression into something emotionless and neutral. She holds her hand out towards Niragi and he passes her the sizeable deck of torifuda. Stepping up to the podium, she picks up the yomifuda, reads it, then matches it to one of the torifuda in her hand. 

After a few more, she finds one that she doesn’t have the match for. Holding it up, she reads it aloud as she looks to the other teams. A moment’s pause, then the woman steps up to take it, carrying her own team’s deck with her. The skinny man walks over to join them at the podium. Defensively, Niragi stands a little straighter, keeping a close eye on him. 

Maki picks up the next printed yomifuda. Also not one of her own. They go on and on like this, matching cards. As she waits for one of the other two to claim the newest yomifuda, she watches the skinny man sorts through his deck and notices something. He doesn’t have many cards. Her eyes shift to the woman’s deck. It’s no small thing, she has almost as many as Maki does. Her gaze flicks up, the woman’s already looking at her. 

“The two of you killed the first team,” Maki accuses. 

The woman says nothing, which is not a denial. Her mouth just thins in a grim line. Her hand tenses around her deck, defensive. 

Maki’s gaze searches her face, then glances towards the skinny man. Cheaters, all of them, and they hadn’t even gathered enough to win. She turns back to the printer as it spits out another yomifuda. She picks it up. Matches it to a torifuda in her hand. 

“You know what I realised?” she says as she sets down another matching torifuda and picks up the pair. That’s 30. “That we all could have survived if we’d played fairly and worked together. One hundred poems, five teams. With twenty cards each, there would have been no loser.” 31. “Even with four teams, there was twenty-five cards each.” 32. “Now, there’s no chance. With three teams and thirty-three cards each, there’d be one card left over. Now, two teams lose no matter what.” 33. 

“Wait,” the skinny player’s partner said as the printer chugs. “Two teams can still win. 50 cards each. We just have to kill them.” He points at the man of the other team. 

“Why the fuck should we be the ones to die?” The woman’s partner snaps. 

Maki keeps picking up cards as the four of them argue, dealing aside the ones she doesn’t have matches for. 33 matches turns into 43. She looks at the smaller decks in the other two’s hands. The woman has 35, the skinny man has 21. The printer churns out the last card. 

The woman slaps her hand down over the last yomifuda before Maki can grab it. Her face twists in a snarl. 

“Maybe we should just kill you,” she rounds on Maki, snapping through her bared teeth, “Do you think you’ll survive in this world by playing fair?” 

Maki whips the kaiken out of her pocket, unsheathed. In a flash, she has the sharp side pressed to the woman’s throat, right over the line of her pulse. The woman freezes. Maki doesn’t press hard enough to break the skin, but enough that she makes her point. Her gaze is dark and focused. 

A few feet away, Niragi stands a little straighter. Something flashes in his ink-dark eyes, a glinting intensity as he watches her, a low breath passing his lips. All of it goes unnoticed by Maki. 

“Do you think you’ll survive tonight if I don’t?” she asks. 

The woman swallows thickly, incidentally pressing her throat harder against the sharp edge. A thin red line pricks with blood beneath the blade. A tense beat. Finally, achingly slow, the woman pulls her hand back from the card. Maki snatches up the card. 44 matches, 88 cards in hand. 

Another bell-ringing jingle over the speakers, the voice chimes out. 

“Congratulations Aguni Makina and Niragi Suguru!” 

In seconds, four lasers strike through the ceiling and into the skulls of the other players. Maki jolts. Their bodies drop, collapsing unmoving to the ground. Blood slowly begins to pool onto the floor, the stench of quick-burnt flesh makes Maki’s stomach twist, threatening to make her hurl. The printer chugs noisily. Her face turns away. 

She fits the kaiken into its sheath and into her pocket, turns, sets the 88 cards on the podium, picks up their cards and visas, then walks out of the classroom. All stiff motions. Niragi follows her out, stepping over the nearest corpse that had fallen by him. Wordlessly, they walk along towards the front of the school, heading back to where the Skyline was waiting for them. 

Niragi taps against her bicep, holds out his hand. 

“Let me drive,” he says. 

She doesn’t argue, just grasps around in her other pocket and pulls the keys out to place them in his waiting hand. 

Pulling away from the side of the street where Maki had parked, Niragi drives at a steady pace. Inside the car is quiet. He knows what she’s thinking, that they all could’ve won, that none of them needed to die. They’d left behind another pile of bodies and she’s going to be thinking about it for longer than she should. Because she’s kind. Because, even after this long and despite everything she’s seen, she still believes in some notion of fairness. Believes that these games could actually be won fairly and they could all survive and the game aren’t what they are: some strange form of torture to force them to watch each other die. 

He thinks to try and distract her, fumbling his thoughts around for the first thing that comes to mind to talk about. 

“What did you mean when you said Aguni felt guilty because of your dad?” He asks, breaking the silence. Maki glances up from her 5-of-diamonds card, but she only briefly looks towards him, then instead turns her gaze out the window to the dark unlit streets. 

“Our father was … an abusive, alcoholic asshole.” Her voice is quiet, and her usual monotone starts to slip, a slight wobble in her tone. “I don’t remember much about him, but I know what he did. Mori … he was so young when it started, but he used to take the beatings for our mother, trying to protect her; then when I came around, he took them instead of me too.” She takes a soft short breath, then continues, “When I was three, our mother left. Disappeared during the night. We never saw her again.” 

She leans her shoulder into the door, her temple dropping against the cool glass of the window. Immediately, Niragi feels like he shouldn’t have asked, that it’s too personal and she’s going to trail back off onto silence, but she doesn’t. She continues on. 

“My father only hit me once. One good hit and he knocked me to the ground, busted my lip and bounced my head off the coffee table. I was five. Mori was …” she huffs a humourless laugh, “Well, 'furious' doesn’t begin to describe it. He tried to fight our father. He was tall for a twelve year old, and tough too, but he was still just a kid. Got beat real bad.” The scenery outside the window becomes an indistinct blur of dark colour. “We left that night, then lived on the streets for about three more nights until Mori could figure out where our aunt lived. Our aunt, Mom’s sister, she didn’t really want us around, but she let us stay so long as we didn’t get in her way. And Mori’s been looking after me by himself ever since.” 

Her hand lifts, presses between her head and the cool window glass to feel over a jagged scar just past her temple and disappearing beneath her hairline. 

“I think he still sees me that way sometimes, as that little girl he has to look after,” she murmurs softly. 

Shaking off the old memories, she clears her throat and shifts around in the passenger seat to look towards Niragi. 

“I’ve been talking too much. Your turn. Why did you hate high school?” 

He’s quiet for such a long time that Maki starts to wonder if he’s going to answer her at all. There’s a beat then he takes a deep breath, his long fingers tensing around the steering wheel. 

Niragi thinks back to high school, to that fucking place and all those bastards there, everyone he’d left behind him the second he got the chance after graduation. He thinks about telling her about his bullies, about every day that they beat the hell out of him, baseballs lobbed at him and wrestling moves practiced on him, dirt on his clothes and blood in his mouth and bruises on every inch of skin. His jaw works and his piercing briefly catches between his teeth. He thinks about how he got it: his tongue pinched between clamps, his bully’s cruel face staring down at him and his visage blurring as Niragi’s eyes filled with frantic tears, the taste of metal in his mouth - blood and piercing and hot hollow needle - followed by bile when he’d thrown up. 

He shakes it off. A part of him feels guilty to lie when she’d been so honest, but he doesn’t want to see pity in her eyes. He doesn’t want to look weak to her. Nobody can know. He’ll never speak of it. They can all think what they want, none of them need to know the truth. 

“It was … just a shitty time. Spent a lot of time in cram schools and didn’t have a lot of friends.” Or any actually, nobody had wanted to be around him after they found out he was a punching bag. He shrugs, flexes his fingers around the steering wheel. “Just sucked.” 

Maki’s head tilts at him. For a moment, he wonders if she believes him or if she’s clocked his lie. That guilty feeling stirs, but it’s stomped down by his need for self-preservation. She’s too kind, she’d pity him and he couldn’t bear that, to be seen as so pathetic in her eyes. 

“Well, I wish I’d known you back in high school,” she muses, “I would’ve been your friend. Would’ve probably benefited us both. I sure could’ve used a real friend back then.” 

He blinks in surprise, glancing to meet her eyes, then tilts his chin in a slight nod, if only to acknowledge he’d heard her. She smiles lightly and nods shortly back, then turns her gaze out the window, watching the passing dark street. He looks back to the road, lit up only by their headlights. 

The ride continues in silence, but the tension doesn’t weigh as heavy. 

Chapter Text

Maki manages to corner Morizono the next day. She catches him as he’s heading to the gym, one of the few places she’s realised he enjoys going because rarely will anybody bother him there; he can’t always be heading off with the excuse of 'going for a run'. There must be something in the look on her face because he grimaces slightly as she hops along to his side, keeping quick pace with him as he walks. 

“Hold on, I want to talk to you about Niragi,” she says, hooking her hand into the crook of his elbow. Morizono’s face pinches, his expression unreadable, something between distress and disgust. She flits her free hand at him, as if she could wave the look away. She can feel her face going red at his clear assumption. “It’s nothing like that.” 

He breathes a slight sigh of relief and she thumps at his bicep in response. There were worse people she could have such affections for around the Beach, surely he knows that too. 

“Fine. What about him?” Morizono asks. 

“He’s smart, Mori, like seriously smart. We’re wasting his potential on spades games,” Maki insists. 

“What do you want then, Maki?” he asks, relenting to stop and listen to her. 

Hand slipping free of his elbow, she stops as well. She takes a breath, a focused glint in her eyes as she gets her thoughts in order. 

“We put him on one of the diamond teams - with his brain, there’s no way they’ll lose. We’ll have all the diamond cards in no time.” 

“What are you asking me for?” Morizono looks at her, searching her expression. 

She makes a motion towards him as she continues. 

“Well, you’re kind of his boss here, since he works under you in your whole sect-thing. If I move him to a different team, then you guys are down a player for your games.” She pauses, thinks, sorts spades players through her memory, “I can probably find you a new player to replace him, just give me a day or two to check my notes.” 

“Fine, but you’ll have to tell him.” Her brows scrunch slightly, so he continues, “It’ll soften the blow coming from you. He’ll act like I’m trying to get rid of him if I tell him.” 

“Weren’t you trying to get rid of him?” It comes off slightly teasing. He rolls his eyes at her. 

“He’s useful to have around in a game, but if you think he’ll do better in diamonds, we can try it out.” 

She nods, “Great. Now we just have to hope Danma is right and this whole card thing works out.” 

A few hours past sundown, Maki sits at a table set up in the main annex, waiting on each of the night’s teams to return. She’s dismissed Yukimaru for the night; he’d been in one of the games that night and she insisted he take a break. This set up has become routine since Danma first laid out the new rules. There’s a set of notebooks in front of her, she marks down every card that gets handed to her and the location that team had been sent to, ticks off the returning members and crosses an ‘x’ beside any member that had died. She scribbles extra notes into a third notebook, filling the pages from edge to edge with tiny neat lettering. 

As she’s flipping a page, a card is set on the table in front of her books. Seven of Diamonds. The smile that comes to her faces drops in an instant when she looks up and only finds one player standing there. She knows his team had been made up of more than one player when they’d left. Her gaze flicks from the single card up to the single player, silently willing for more of them to appear. 

“Whe - ” she clears her throat, “Where’s the rest of your team?” 

“Dead,” the man answers plainly. Confusion creases her features and he continues, “You haven’t played many diamond games, have you? They did their best, but it was a one-winner game.” 

“Oh.” Her voice sounds hollow. 

He nods shortly, then turns to leave her to her note-taking. With shaky hands, she pens a line of ‘x’es down his team’s member list. Almost the entire team eliminated in one fell swoop of a game, and she’d been the one to send them out to it. Her fingers tremble as she picks up the card. A new card, but at the cost of so many lives. 

“Maki?” 

She claps the card, suit-down, onto the table. Her hand grips around it, the edges dig into the joints of her fingers. Looking up, she meets her brother’s gaze and tries to force a casual expression. Her jaw is still tight. Morizono frowns slightly, his brows creasing. 

Before he can say anything, she does, “You’re back - and with everyone intact? That’s great. Less work for me.” She holds her empty hand out, “Cards?” 

Niragi glances between the siblings, then passes the small deck of cards over to Maki. She smiles at him, nods, thanks him. Concern is still set in Morizono’s expression, but as another team falls into place behind them to hand in their cards, he steps aside to let her get back to her work. 

Morizono comes to find her a day or so later, after he dismisses Niragi and Last Boss and the teams are all back from the games. Niragi is still firmly set on his team and Maki has made no mention of it since that day. She’s in her office, sat behind her desk, leaned over a notebook. From the doorway, he looks over her. Dark circles aren’t unusual beneath her eyes, but they look worse than ever. Her hair looks in need of brushing, the length tied messily back at her nape, the strands greasy near the roots. 

He wonders when the last time she’d slept was, let alone slept well. 

He wishes there was something he could do to help her, but he didn’t have her intellect. Making it through high school had been hard enough, let alone if he tried to compare it to her level of note-taking and detailing. The most he can do is protect her from more physical harms. 

At the door, taking a breath, he raps his knuckles against the doorjamb. 

She glances up at him, just briefly, then looks back to her notebook as he approaches, a pen poised in her hand. He glances down at the page as he stops in front of her desk. Her writing is tiny and neat, almost impossible to read even at this short distance. She’s penning out some sets of lists, each headed by a card suit. He spies his own name, neatly written, beneath the spades suit; and below his name, Niragi’s. 

“Weren’t you going to move Niragi to a diamonds team?” He asks. 

She stops writing. He watches her swallows thickly, her brown eyes cast aside away from him, her mind clearly whirling off to some unknown thought she’s seemingly unwilling to speak aloud. 

“I changed my mind. Actually, I’m thinking of reworking the teams. Balancing them. Diamond teams don’t need so many people, some of them can be put into the spades and clubs teams.” 

Morizono is entirely focused on Maki’s body language instead of her words as she babbles, concernedly noting the slight high hitch in her usually calm, monotonous voice and the nervous flitting of her hands. She’s an open book to him, as easy to read as she was as a kid, lying about not eating treats before dinner. 

“Makina, did something happen?” He asks carefully. 

She flinches slightly at the sound of her full name from his mouth, then draws in a shaky breath. Her gaze turns to finally meet his. The whites of her eyes are threaded with thin red veins. 

“One of the diamond teams - only one member came back the other night. Six people died in that one game.” 

“People die in these games every night.” 

She continues in a whisper, “I sent them to that game.” 

“Maki,” he starts with a quiet sigh, “You can’t carry the weight of every death that happens here, it’ll crush you.” 

“I just … ” she swallows thickly, her hands curling into tense fists on the desktop, “I need to figure out better teams. If I can balance the teams, less people will die.” 

“Maki -” 

“I’ll keep Niragi on a team with you. You’ll watch out for each other, right?” 

Morizono’s mouth thins in a line, but there’s a desperation he can read in her eyes. Niragi isn’t his favourite person, but he can’t say ‘no’ to his sister, not at a time like this. “Okay.” 

She exhales a shaky breath, her drooping head propped up by setting her knuckles against her forehead. He reaches out, carding his fingers over the messy strands of her hair. 

“Have you eaten yet?” He asks. 

She motions vaguely to her notebook, “I’m working.” 

“I’ll bring you up something.” 

She doesn’t argue. 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

Morizono’s hand pats gently over the curve of her head, then he turns to leave the office, leaving her to her seemingly-endless work. 

Alone again, Maki sighs quietly and rubs her knuckles against her eyes. She’s tired, exhausted even, but she needs to get the teams reworked before the next round of games tomorrow night. Picking up her pen again, she rolls the stiffness out of her shoulders and gets back to work, looking between each of her carefully-maintained notebooks to properly assign each resident to an appropriate team. 

Focusing intently on her work, she doesn’t notice how much time has passed, it could be a five minutes or thirty or an hour. She hears the light sound of familiar footfalls approaching but doesn’t look up. 

Whoever it is walks further into the room and sets a cooked bowl of instant kitsune udon at the side of her notebook. Her nose twitch slightly at the smell and she feels her stomach rumble. How long has it been since her brother left? 

Her head tilts up and she’s surprised to see Niragi standing there. 

“Niragi? I was expecting …” she trails off. 

He leans against the front of the desk, setting a pair of chopsticks over the papery lid of the udon bowl then crossing his arms casually over his chest. He nods down towards the bowl. 

“Your brother told me to bring you something to eat. Said it was your favourite.” 

A small smile draws to her face. Such a soft-heart, her brother is. She hadn’t even known they still had kitsune udon in stock, had he been hiding it away? Sighing lightly, she flicks her notebook shut on a pen, shoving it aside to pull her delivered dinner in front of her. She plucks up the chopsticks, dipping her head in small bow and murmuring a thanks. Peeling the lid the rest of the way off, she starts to eat, tucking her feet underneath her chair. 

Shifting, Niragi turns and reaches out to flip a page of one of the laid-out notebooks. She eyes him while chewing a noodle. 

“Nosy,” she says pointedly, though her tone is clearly teasing. He quickly snatches his hand back, half-guilty. She laughs quietly, then motions at the book with her chopsticks. “You can look, it’s fine.” 

He looks at her for a moment, then picks up the notebook. Shifting his weight onto his other foot, he balances the book in his hand and flips a few pages. He looks impressed. 

“This is so detailed.” Another few pages flipped. “This is what you’ve been this whole time? Is this everyone that’s joined the beach?” 

“Everyone since the first of us,” she replies, jabbing at the square of tofu to break it up. Niragi flips back through to the first page, smoothing out a slight crinkle in the paper. His brow creases slightly. Maki nibbles on a piece of tofu. 

“Diamond?” he asks. 

She knows what he means. Next to his name, there’s a spade symbol, then beside that is a diamond, written in a different pen colour and obviously added later. She prods her noodles around with her chopsticks. 

“I know you’re smart, Niragi. I thought you’d do well on a diamond team but …” She starts quiet and trails off even more quietly then ducks her head to suck an udon noodle into her mouth, hoping to disguise the grim line of her mouth as she eats. Her mind flicks back to that singular diamond winner, the line of ‘x’es beneath the rest of his now-dead teammates. 

He leans closer to her, still cradling the notebook in his palm, his brows furrow slightly, curious. 

“But?” 

She chews, swallows, and looks to her other notebooks to avoid his gaze. 

“I’m reworking the teams. I think it’d be better to have a few different specialists on each team. Worth it to have your smarts with all those spades players; some kinda ‘brains and brawn’ type thing, you know?” She pauses, her gaze softening as she looks up to him. “Look after my brother?” 

“Of course.” 

Relieved to know that Niragi and Morizono will be looking out for each other, she feels herself finally start to relax. She looks back down at her notebook, still splayed open on her team pages. A pause, then she flips it closed. Niragi lifts a brow, surprised. 

“Are you actually going to take a break?” he asks, a quirk of a smile toying across his mouth. 

She smiles back at him, leaning back in her seat as she shifts the udon bowl in her palm, swirling around the noodles with her chopsticks. 

“The rest of the night actually, I’ll finish this up in the morning.” 

“Good. It’s about time you took some time off.” 

She nods towards a spare chair tucked against the wall. 

“Come hang out with me? Tell me more about your work.” 

More surprise across his expression, “Really?” 

She nods, “I like listening to you talk. Come on, sit down.” 

He smiles, pulls the chair over so he can sit across from her, quickly wracking his mind for something interesting to tell her. 

As they head towards the night’s game arena, Niragi keeps pace with Aguni, just a step behind. Last Boss slumps along beside him, the hilt of his katana bobbing. Behind their trio is a small group of Beach residents, teammates but also people Aguni had brought onto the sect. Combative idiots that needed extra-close watching, but so far hadn’t caused too much trouble. Three men and one woman. They’re at least useful in games, not that their trio really ever needed extra members, they’d managed just fine on their own. 

Following the signs, Aguni leads them into a building. It’s not overly tall, not more than five or six floors, seeming to be a small contained apartment building or motel. In the main room of the ground floor, Niragi’s surprised to find the place empty. Rarely have they ever been the first to arrive. His gaze turns around the room. It’s dreary, a wilting overgrown plant in the corner, scrappy looking cushions on a wooden bench against the wall, peeling yellowed papers pinned to a cork board, and dusty glass-covered pictures on the walls. 

Against the far wall waits a table. A small rectangular screen reads ‘TEAM TWO’ in red LEDs. Across the tabletop are a line of phones, and another screen-sign that points towards a cracked-open door. Niragi eyes the ‘team’ sign blinking at them. 

“Looks like it’s going to be a clubs game, huh?” he says. 

Aguni makes a short noise in reply, then crosses the room to the table and picks up a phone. The rest of the team follow suit. Aguni doesn’t wait as he moves towards the door and pushes it wider open. He takes a step into the room, then pauses. Niragi quirks a curious brow at his back, stepping in after him. As his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the room, his mild curiosity sparks into surprise. 

The room is filled, wall to wall, with guns. 

Aguni steps over to a rack of hand guns and picks one up. He turns it in his hands, checks the safety and magazine. His usual frown deepens, concern creasing his features. 

“These are police-grade,” he says as the rest of their team file into the room. He checks the magazine back into the base with a click and sets the gun back on the rack. 

Niragi whistles, taking in the rows of firearms. Crossing the room, he paces alongside the wall-long rack, taking in the various guns. Revolvers, semi-automatic pistols, submachine guns, rifles. All sleek and black and intense-looking. He traces his fingers down along a rifle, from muzzle, barrel, down to the stock. It’s an impressive piece of weaponry. He plucks it up, weighing it in his hands. It feels right somehow. 

At his sides, the only woman on their team - Saiko, he thinks he name is, Maki would probably know - pops up and looks at the rifle. 

“Nice choice,” she says, almost a purr. 

He doesn’t look at her, turning the rifle in his hands as he checks over it; the safety, magazine, his finger skirting over the trigger guard. He only answers her with a quiet hum, dismissive. 

“Game like this, we’ll need to look out for each other. I’ll watch your back,” she says with a smile, trying again to pull his attention. There’s a kind of hunger in her eyes, not that Niragi notices. 

“You should be doing that anyway,” he answers, his tone dismissive again as he sets the butt against his shoulder, checking the sight, the muzzle aimed towards the wall. Satisfied, he turns to head towards Aguni and Last Boss. The latter seems to have no interest in any of the weapons around the room. Meanwhile, Aguni checks out various handguns and pistols. Niragi remembers that Maki had once mentioned he was part of the SDF, he’s probably been trained with nearly everything in the room, stuff Niragi’s only seen ever in games let alone held in-hand. 

At his approach, Aguni glances sidelong at him, then to the rifle he has propped comfortably against his shoulder. Niragi’s thumb runs along the side of the stock. 

“You know how to use that thing?” he asks gruffly, setting down another rejected firearm. 

In theory, Niragi thinks. 

“Yeah,” he replies, more confident than he should be. 

Aguni doesn’t seem convinced, but he just turns back to the rack. Exhaling quietly, Niragi glances towards Last Boss, who still had made no move to even look at any of the weapons. 

“Are you really not taking anything?” he asks. Last Boss blinks at him, then reaches his hand back to wrap around the hilt of his katana. Niragi smirks and holds up his free hand, not needing more of an answer, “Fine, fine. Miss out then.” 

Last Boss drops his hand back to his side and shrugs, the dark sharp lines of his tattoos rippling across his shoulders with the casual movement. 

After a few more minutes, everyone had picked out their choices of weapons and they leave the room, back into the ground floor’s main room. Overheard, the game’s starting jingle plays. 

“Difficulty, Seven of Clubs. Game, Raid.” 

The team falls into silence, listening. 

“Two teams will face off against each other. Team one, protect the prize and survive against team two to win. Team two, find and collect the prize to win. Weapons have been provided to both teams. Game complete when only one team remains. Winners will get to keep the prize.” 

“A prize?” Niragi questions. Rarely did the games ever offer more than the cards. “What do you think it is?” 

“Hopefully something useful,” one of the other members grumbles. 

“Maybe answers,” another offers. 

“Everyone follow my lead and stay focused,” Aguni orders, cutting in before they can speculate more. 

Heading up the first set of stairs, they move as a solid group. Aguni leads at the front, the rest falling into pairs behind him. With a quiet metallic shink, Last Boss pulls his katana from its sheath, held carefully poised and ready for attack. Beside him, Niragi pulls the rifle down from where it had been propped against his shoulder. He sets the stock against his shoulder pocket and lowers the muzzle towards the ground, his finger lays across the trigger guard, readied.

Despite his size, Aguni moves with surprising lightness, his steps muffled to almost nothing. There’s an intensity about him, focused and steady, stepping into his role as leader effortlessly. His head turns on a cautious swivel as they move through a tight hall. He gives each of them orders, points pairs towards doors to check, tells others to keep eyes on the ends of the hallway. 

With a nod from him, they move in unison. 

Aguni opens one door, flanked by Niragi and Last Boss. Opposite them, two of the other men open the other door. Saiko and the last man watch up the hall for anyone trying to get the drop on them. 

The doors open into nothing of note. No people from the other team. Breaking apart, each pair carefully sweep the rooms, opening doors to closets and small bathrooms. Once they’re sure it’s empty, they move on, back into the hallway and down the rest of the floor. 

The first two floors are clear. 

Niragi flexes his fingers, exhaling a slow breath. He can feel himself getting antsy with no sightings of any of the other team’s members. If they’re all holed up around the so-called prize, he’s sure it’ll turn into a bloodbath of a shootout and he’s not looking forward to that. His gaze flicks towards Aguni’s back, remembering his promise to Maki. He can’t let Aguni get hurt here, let alone die. Shaking off the nerves, he refocuses and shifts the rifle stock into a more comfortable position. 

They lose their first teammate on the third floor. One of their opponents rushes from a room, standing in the middle of the hallway as he takes aim at them with a handgun. Aguni and Niragi manage to dodge the fired bullet, Aguni’s arm thrown back across Niragi’s chest to push him out of the way and against the wall, hard enough that it half knocks the breath out of him. The man behind them doesn’t get so lucky and he goes down, leaving a bloody smear on the wall as he falls. 

Before the opponent can get another shot off, Last Boss lunges up the hallway and drive his katana through the man’s eye socket in a smooth, swift motion. He draws it back out just as smoothly, the metal glinting beneath the blood. The enemy’s body falls into a slumped, unmoving heap. Glancing back to their group, Last Boss nods shortly, a kind of 'you’re welcome'. 

Aguni’s arm drops from Niragi’s chest and he can breathe again. Rolling his shoulders back as he pushes away from the wall, Niragi slightly clears his throat and readjusts his rifle in his grip. Aguni says nothing, just turns to keep moving down the hall. 

They clear the third floor with no other incidents and head on up to the fourth. 

Walking down the hall, Aguni and Niragi turn to the door of one room, the other pair move towards another, and Last Boss stays in the hall with Saiko, his katana gripped in his hand and a semi-automatic pistol grasped in her’s, both watching down towards the hall’s end. 

Niragi and Aguni step into a large, mostly empty room. The lights are off, casting the room into darkness, there’s only the pale shine of the moon and the game signs outside lighting dimly through the blind-covered windows. Niragi frees up a hand and moves it towards the wall, sliding along the wall until he can find the light switch. 

Aguni reaches back and stops him before he can flick it on. Guiding him away from the door, they move quietly further into the room. Niragi strains his eyes against the dimness. He can barely make out more than murky shapes, but luckily nothing moving. Aguni takes a quiet breath, then flips the light on. The bulbs flicker and blink before they stabilise. 

A closet across the room bursts open. A man leaps out, he holds a gun up in Aguni’s direction. On instinct, before Aguni can even lift his own gun, Niragi lifts his rifle, aims, and fires just moment’s before their enemy does. Niragi’s bullet collides into the right side of the man’s upper chest. The enemy’s bullet goes off course, sinking in the wall inches from its intended target of Aguni. Niragi adjusts and fires again, his second bullet solidly hitting the man’s head. A spray of blood turns the closet door red. His body crumples. 

Niragi slowly lowers his rifle, his finger slipping from the trigger. 

He breathes out. 

The recoil isn’t as bad as he’s expected. There’s a dull pain, but it’s not so bad, it doesn’t ache, it won’t bruise. He shifts the stock from his shoulder, rolls it loosely to work the blunt sting out of it. His gaze turns to Aguni, flicking briefly to the hole in the wall. Aguni looks back at him. His expression is hard to read, so much so that Niragi has no idea what he’s thinking. 

Niragi shifts under the weight of his gaze. His eyes do look so much like Maki’s, but the similarities end there; there’s none of the softness, the warmth, of Maki’s when Aguni looks at him. 

“We should keep moving, right?” Niragi says, sparing Aguni the need to thank him. 

Aguni’s jaw sets and he nods. He throws a long glance around the room, ensuring there’s nothing hiding away, then heads back to the hallway to keep checking the rest of the floor. Niragi looks over towards the body for only a moment, then he follows Aguni out. In the hallway, Last Boss is finishing up dealing with another opposing player, cleaning the blood of his katana while Saiko stands to the side and watches. 

Aguni looks over their remaining members. 

“Let’s go,” he says, walking down the hall to the next staircase. The rest fall wordlessly into line behind him. 

The next floor is the last one. It feels so much like a video game that Niragi can almost convince himself it is, that he isn’t killing actual people; he knows they have to die so he can win. So he can get back to the Beach. He allows himself a short moment between the fourth floor and fifth to be glad Maki’s not there to see any of it. 

It’s a cruel game, but he can’t help but feel a tingle of excitement. 

Stepping onto the top floor, Aguni double-taps a man standing down the end of the hallway before he can even lift his own gun. The sound of the gun going off results in a scuffle of footfall within the rooms, their opponents readying themselves for the fight. 

It’s as much of a bloody firefight as Niragi had imagined. Aguni and Last Boss lead ahead, Aguni throwing punches as much as he uses his gun, Last Boss moving swiftly with well-timed slashes of his katana. There’s a brutality to Aguni as he moves through the room, a seemingly unstoppable force. 

Niragi finds a vantage point to pick players off at as much of a distance as he can get; there’s an electric thrill that grows in him with each successful shot. Saiko and the other two take up positions of their own, but they’re little help in the long run. One of the men catches a bullet in his shoulder, falling back afterwards to stay out of the rest of the fight. 

As the shootout slows, Niragi can only just hear the winning jingle through the ringing in his ears. He lowers his gun, resting the sleek length of it against his hip, and looks around the room at all the bodies and the blood. He breathes out, a quiet whistle through his teeth as he clamps back a grin, and he steps towards the door, avoiding a puddle of blood as he steps out into the hall. 

“So where’s this prize?” he asks, his voice slightly louder than necessary, rubbing a free hand against one of his ringing ears. 

Last Boss steps out into the hallway, wiping blood off the blade of his katana. Aguni follows after him, also spattered with blood, breathing heavy. 

“Check the other rooms,” he says, waving them towards the rest of the doors. 

Looking through each room, they eventually make their way to the last down the end of the hall and push the door open. There’s a large table in the middle of the room, the card printer on one side and a couple large white polystyrene foam boxes. The printer starts to chug out cards and visas. Niragi steps instead towards the boxes, pushing the lid off of one. 

“It’s food. Looks fresh too,” he says. 

A thread of excitement spins through the room. The rest of the team step up to open the other boxes and look into them. They’re iced and filled to the brim with fruits, vegetables, and choice slices of meat. With the size of the boxes, Niragi thinks they’re lucky to have brought two cars. Moving aside, he scoops up the cards and visas as the others pick up boxes. 

Sat in the car, Aguni looks at the rifle as Niragi hops into the passenger seat, settling into his usual seat. One of the boxes wouldn’t fit in the boot and Last Boss is half-squished in the backseat beside it. He looks between Aguni and Niragi, silently watching as Niragi angles the gun’s butt into the foot space between his leg at the door. 

Glancing back at Aguni, Niragi quirks one dark brow as if to say 'what?'. 

“You’re keeping that?” Aguni questions pointedly. 

Niragi wraps a defensive hand around the barrel. 

“No one says anything about Last Boss’ katana,” he replies quickly. 

He can see the way Aguni resists both a sigh and rolling his eyes, something in the way he shifts in the driver’s seat and breaks his gaze from Niragi’s. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine rumbles to life and Aguni pulls the car away from the parking spot. 

Chapter Text

As they pull into the Beach garage a little over a half-hour later, Niragi eyes Aguni from the passenger seat. His gaze flicks to the specks of blood still spattered across Aguni’s skin. It’s even on his face, dripped slightly over the curve of his jaw where he’d caught a spray during the fight. Aguni swings the car into a park, flicking the engine off and Niragi clears his throat. 

“I’ll take the cards to Makina, maybe you should get cleaned up before she sees you?” he says, motioning vaguely with the cards in his hand to a particular splash of blood over his muscular bicep. 

Despite his lack of reply, Aguni does seem to recognise that Niragi is right in thinking Maki would be worried seeing him in such a state. Aguni turns to hop out of the car, then pauses, glances half-back over his shoulder at Niragi, not quite meeting his gaze. 

“Good work tonight,” he says gruffly, then he’s out of the car and swinging the driver’s door closed behind him. 

Niragi holds back the curve of a grin, trying to look unfazed as he hops out of the car, picking up his rifle and slipping the cards into his pocket. He looks towards Last Boss and the foam box in the back seat. Before he can even ask if Last Boss needs a hand, the guy is swinging his katana sheath into place across his back and effortlessly lifting the box out. 

“Want me to send someone down to grab the other ones?” Niragi asks. Last Boss nods shortly. “I’ll tell Yukimaru. Have it all taken to the storage room, we’ll have to figure out something to keep it cold. See if Ann will let us use the fridges in her office for their actual purpose.” 

With that sorted, they head inside, Last Boss heading towards the elevator and Niragi towards the main annex where he’s sure Maki will be collecting cards. There’s a lot of people already back and around the outdoor pool, he can already hear the blare of music as he walks. As expected, when he turns into the large room of the ground floor annex, Maki is sitting at her set-up desk and taking a small deck of cards from a group of returning players. Yukimaru’s standing by to give her a hand. 

The team turns and walks away, and Niragi steps up to the side of the desk opposite her. 

When Maki looks up, she blinks in surprise to see the sleek dark rifle propped up against Niragi’s shoulder. He cradles the stock in one hand and offers her a set of cards with his other, a smile playing on his face. She takes the cards, notes everything down in her book, including the player who had died, then she props her elbow on the table. Resting her chin on her knuckles, her eyes drag over the length of the rifle. She smirks, flicks her gaze to meet his, tilts her head slightly. 

“You know how to handle that thing?” she asks, nodding to the rifle. 

Niragi chuckles and adjusts the rifle on his shoulder. 

“Your brother asked that same thing.” 

She laughs then, and hops up out of her seat. 

“Well, come on then, let’s go set up some targets and you can show me.” 

“You’re not busy here?” he says, watching as she packs up her card bag and notebook. She smiles at him, then loops the bag over her wrist and tucks the notebook under her arm. Stepping around the table, she bumps her hip against his. 

“Isn’t everyone always saying I work too much? They’ll find me if they need me.” 

Amusement dances across her expression and Niragi laughs shortly, motioning with his free hand for her to lead the way. After a few steps, he glances back over his shoulder to Yukimaru who’s staring after them. 

“Hey, Last Boss needs some help over in the garage, go give him a hand,” he says, his tone more of an order than simply asking, then he turns back to follow after Maki. Oddly, Yukimaru seems rather eager to go help, heading off without a complaint. 

It’s no hard task to find empty bottles and cans around the Beach. The two gather some up and, heading around to the back of the hotel, they line them on a half wall. Taking a step back, Maki motions Niragi forward, giving him some room. She watches as he shifts his stance, putting his rifle into position, stock against his shoulder, finger hooked into the trigger guard. He glances back at her, then remembers the ringing in his ears after the earlier shootout. 

“You might want to cover your ears,” he says. 

“Oh, right.” She nods and quickly covers her ears with her palms. 

Turning back to the line of cans and bottles, he lifts the muzzle as he takes aim. He stares down the sight, takes note of the angle. Inhale. Exhale. Fire. One of the bottles explodes into shards, toppling backwards off the wall. Pause, focus, aim, fire. Down goes a can, then another bottle. He hears an impressed high laugh escape from Maki. He lowers the muzzle, looking back at her. She smiles at him, giving him a small single-person round of applause as she steps up to his side, and he laughs lightly. 

“Does that hurt? The recoil?” she asks, motioning to where the stock sits against his shoulder. He shifts the rifle down, finger off the trigger, muzzle still towards the ground. 

“Not as much as you’d think,” he replies with a small shrug. 

She reaches out, absentmindedly running her fingers over where the stock had rumpled his shirt and fixes his collar. As her fingers flatten his collar back into place, he watches her, noting the gentle focus of her gaze, the slight part of her lips as she exhales. Her eyes flick up to meet his. He feels frozen in place, as if moving could make everything crumble. Her fingers trace slowly over his shoulder and down his arm, tripping off his wrist over the string of beads. He can feel the warmth of her touch, tingling along his skin. 

“Maki, do you want to try it?” he asks, shifting the rifle in his hands. 

She laughs shortly, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to fire a gun,” she replies. 

“It’s not that hard,” he says, “Here, come on, take it. Finger off the trigger.” 

He puts the rifle into her hands, guiding her to step closer to him and take his place. His hand lands briefly on the curve of her waist, then her hip, adjusting her stance slightly. Eyes flicking over her, he hums shortly, considering. Gently, he gathers her long hair back, then pulls his own hairband out and uses it to tie her hair into a ponytail at her nape. His fingertips brush against the back of her neck, over her spine. She holds back a shiver, exhales quietly. 

“You know my eyesight kind of sucks ever since losing my glasses, right?” she says, weighing the rifle in her hands.

“You’ll do fine, I’ll help you,” he replies, helping her fit the stock against her shoulder and adjusting her grip. He taps the sight, “Look there, aim for the bottle on the end, then squeeze the trigger.” 

He takes a step back, giving her some space. She draws in a deep breath, squints slightly to try and focus her vision. Finding the bottle, she aims and pulls the trigger. The bullet misses. She huffs, disappointed, lowering the gun and slightly rolling her shoulder. Niragi had been right, the recoil wasn’t that bad, but it is an odd feeling. Her ears ring a little. 

“Here, try again,” Niragi says, moving back to her side, urging her to lift the rifle again. Leaning close to her, his fingers brush under her wrist as he nudges her angle up. 

They’re so close together that it’s distracting. She can feel the heat of him against her back, can hear his calm breaths beside her ear. His arm wraps around her, adjusting the stock against her shoulder and guiding her hand near the trigger. They’re practically cheek-to-cheek as Niragi helps her aim, shifting the muzzle towards the bottle. 

“Now shoot,” he says, his hand falling away from her’s and coming to settle on her hip. 

Maki exhales slowly, then pulls the trigger. The bullet only nicks along the side of the bottle, but it’s still enough to shatter the glass and knock it off the wall. A bark of a laugh escapes her, surprised she’d actually hit it. As she turns to look at Niragi, he grins at her. 

Suddenly, she realises this is the first time she’s seen him with his hair down. The dark strands fall around his face, his part is slightly off-centre. She can’t resist reaching out. The rifle dangles from one hand, muzzle aimed to the ground; her other hand reaches out to brush the strand back from his face, tucking it over his ear. 

Her heart thumps heavily. He’s so close to her, she wonders if he can hear it. Her face feels warm. She longs to lean in, close the distance between them. If she kisses him now, would he kiss her back? The question goes unanswered as her courage fails her. She doesn’t move closer. Her hand drops away from his face, her fingers curling into her palm. 

“You should probably take this off me now,” she says. 

His smile softens slightly. 

“If you still had your glasses, I bet you’d get it in no time,” he mentions as he takes the rifle from her, propping the length of it comfortably against his shoulder. They both shift a small respective step apart, putting an ache of distance between them. “Did Aguni not teach you how to shoot? Looked to me like he knows his way around a gun. From being in the SDF, right?” 

She runs her fingers through her fringe, shrugging. 

“I think he was worried about me getting hurt if I had a gun, or a knife, or -” she sighs, waves her hand vaguely, “- anything.” 

“What about …” he trails off. It goes unspoken. Killing Iwanuma, threatening that woman in the four of diamonds. “Seems like you’re more of a natural with a knife then.” 

He watches her hand skirt across her pocket, the right side where he’s seen her keep the kaiken. He thinks about the steadiness of her hand that second time, the intense darkening of her eyes; he’d seen flashes of that in Aguni too, an underlying brutality that leaps out when it’s needed. She smiles faintly. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

The walkie-talkie at her waistband buzzes, crackling before Yukimaru’s voice comes clearly through the speaker. She picks it up, listening. 

“Hey, Makina. What do you want done with all this new food?” Yukimaru asks. 

“Playtime’s over,” she jokes to Niragi, another step back, more aching distance between them, then lifts the walkie-talkie to her mouth, clicking the button, “Are you in the storage room? I’ll come to you.” 

Sometimes it seems as if only two people do actual work around the Beach. One is Maki, the other is Ann. Over her time at the Beach, Ann has watched Maki run herself so ragged that she’s often surprised to see the girl hasn’t simply dropped and stayed down. Sometimes she considers asking Maki to help her with her own work, the girl’s thoroughness and attention to detail would be useful, but she’s busy enough as is that Ann never goes further than simple consideration. 

Their work is completely different anyway. Unlike Maki, Ann doesn’t busy herself with worrying about food supplies or collecting cards or cleaning up. There are bigger issues to deal with, bigger mysteries to try and solve. The forest was a bust, but there are other things to look into; who was running these games? Why were they dealing out cards? Where did everyone else go and why were they transported to this 'borderland'? She’d heard Maki query these same questions herself, but she never took action to try and figure it out, so it’s up to Ann. 

It’s mid-morning that Ann is walking through the Beach down to her office, nursing a steaming mug of cheap brand instant coffee. Her sunglasses are propped atop her head, her wedge-heeled shoes drum on the ground with each long stride. 

“Hey Ann!” A voice calls down the hallway. 

Glancing up, she sees Maki down the hall, clearly in the middle of showing around a new bunch of residents. Ann turns and makes her way towards the small group, her face the image of casual stoic calm. She comes to a stop across from Maki, loosely crossing her arms, her fingers wrapped around her coffee mug, the warmth seeping through her hand. 

“This is An Rizuna, you might call her our resident detective.” Maki glances her way, her hands intertwined in front of her stomach, a stumble of an awkward laugh tripping past her lips, “Ann, anything to say?” 

Even after this long, Maki still seems to be awkward when it comes to showing new people around. There’s a desperation in her eyes, a silent plea for any kind of help. 

Ann looks from her to the group. Her eyes are drawn to a tall, tan woman who seemed to be sizing her up. Ann briefly looks her up and down. The woman’s hair is dreaded and pulled back into a high ponytail, strings tied decoratively around some of the strands. There’s an unlit cigarette tucked over her ear and she wears plenty of jewellery. She’s pretty, Ann thinks absentmindedly, no doubt she’ll be popular around the Beach, pretty girls like her are. 

Ann sips her coffee, then speaks, her tone naturally serious, “If you have any information about this 'borderland', I would be interested to hear about it. The forest has been thoroughly searched, but I’m still in the process of having the rest of Tokyo scoured; if any of you are willing, I’m still taking volunteers. Otherwise, consider my office off-limits unless it’s an emergency.” 

There’s a pause of silence from the group of newcomers, then the tall woman snorts a quiet laugh. Ann’s gaze sets on her again, her chin tilting up slightly to meet her gaze. The woman fits her hands into the front pockets of her bedazzled jeans. 

“You’re kind of intense, huh?” she says, an amused flash in her eyes.

“Yes,” Ann answers simply, then looks to Maki, “I’ll leave the rest to you.” 

“Right. Thank you, Ann.” Maki’s tone is slightly strained, her smile tight in an attempt to hide her awkwardness. Ann nods to her, then turns to continue on her way to her office. As Ann walks away, she can hear Maki addressing the group again, leading them in the opposite direction down the hall. 

As usual, Ann spends most of her day in her office. By early midday, she’s dealing out sites for her groups to head off to. Much of Setagaya, Shinagawa, and Meguro have been searched already, so today’s groups she sends off to Ota and Kōtō. She’s not sure exactly what answers she’s looking, or in what form they’ll come in, but she can’t simply do nothing and she isn’t the only one desperate to find answers. Her groups aren’t volunteers for nothing. Two groups soon head out and Ann is left to her own devices again. 

She stands, sipping a second cup of coffee and bouncing a pen against her forefinger as she looks over various sets of maps spread across the wall. There’s marks and pins covering points across the maps, thick dark lines indicating the surrounding forest. She half-wishes she had a camera so she could take picture evidence and pin that up too, but there’s no such luck and it’d be difficult enough to find one working camera let alone the many she’d need to hand out to her groups - and that didn’t cover the difficult process of eventually developing the photos either. 

Ann has gotten used to being alone in her office for days at a time now. Even Mira hasn’t been coming around as often, seemingly too busy cozying up with Hatter and whispering in his ear. She’s not sure what to make of that, she doesn’t think Mira is actually interested in Hatter, so what’s her angle? Ann shakes her head, brushing the thought aside. 

There’s a rhythmic knock, then one of the kitchen-office door’s swings open. When Ann turns around, the tall woman from earlier in the day stands in the doorway, propping the door open with her arm.

“You mind if I come in?” she asks. 

Ann looks at her. She’s changed clothes, wearing a bikini typical of the Beach’s rules. It’s blue and floral and leaves so little to the imagination that Ann subtly averts her eyes. She’s also kept much of her jewellery on, bangles dangling from her wrist and necklaces shifting between her defined collarbones as she walks into the room. 

“Can I help you?” Ann asks as she sets her pen down. 

The woman walks further into the office, casually glancing around and taking the place in, then she finally sets her gaze on Ann. 

“We met this morning. I’m Kuina.” She offers her hand out for Ann to shake. Her nails are neat and manicured Ann notices. Ann shakes it, a short single bounce before she’s releasing it. Kuina’s hand is warm and soft. 

“Can I help you, Kuina?” Ann repeats. 

“You said you need volunteers, right?” 

There’s a slight flicker of surprise across Ann’s face. 

“You only just got here. Wouldn’t you rather,” she grasps for something that isn’t 'drink and party', “Take in the amenities?” 

“Can’t I do both? Are you going to work me to the bone?” There’s a lilt of amusement in Kuina’s voice, a pretty smile curving on her lips. 

“Come back tomorrow, I’ll find you a spot on one of my groups.” 

There’s a slight dismissiveness to her tone, Ann even turns back towards her wall of maps, but Kuina doesn’t immediately move to leave. A beat, then Ann glances over her shoulder at her. Kuina’s gaze turns around the makeshift office once more, briefly meeting Ann’s eyes, then she smiles again and turns to walk out. 

In spite of herself, Ann stares, watching her leave then shakes her head and refocuses. 

It’s shouldn’t be a surprise. Danma’s never been the serious type, it’s not in his nature. Being the apparent-leader here hasn’t changed that. Sometimes Maki thinks he cares more to be loved and admired than anything else, even more than wanting to provide 'hope and paradise'. She’s sure it’s why he leaves most of the work to the rest of them; Maki and her countless jobs, Morizono running his guarding detail, Ann’s detective work; meanwhile, Danma reaps rewards, parties and drinks and women. 

In truth, it maybe wouldn’t bother her so much if it wasn’t for her brother. 

At a distance, she watches Morizono watch Danma, his eyes dragging over a woman’s long legs thrown across Danma’s lap, Danma’s arm around her waist, his hand on the curve of her scantily-clad hip over the side-tied ribbon of her bikini bottoms. There’s a smudged red lipstick mark on Danma’s cheek, next to his mouth. Danma sits amongst a mixed crowd, a bacchanalia, the lot of them drinking themselves stupid. They laugh together. 

There’s a pang of something in Morizono’s expression and Maki frowns, takes a breath, then crosses over to his side. 

“Mori?” she says softly. He jolts slightly then settles, as if he hadn’t noticed she was there. “You okay?” She knows he’s not. She wants him to admit it. 

“I’m fine,” comes his slightly gruff answer. 

“He’s such a dick.” 

“Makina,” he chastises lightly. 

She puffs her cheeks, then sighs quietly as he turns his gaze back to Danma. 

“Have you talked to him?” she asks, crossing her arms loosely. 

“About what?” 

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Morizono looks at her, confused. She meets his gaze, knowing. “I know about you and him. I have for years. You two are not exactly … subtle.” 

He doesn’t blush, but she can read the subdued embarrassment in him. 

“I never cared that you were together. I mean, I thought you could do better, still think you can —” he fixes her with a look, she flits a hand up in quick silencing defence, “— but I didn’t care. I knew he was important to you, so I didn’t care so long as you were happy with him but now …” 

She trails off, shakes her head. Disgust tinges her expression as Danma’s hand squeezes the thigh of the woman sitting half in his lap. In her periphery, she notes how Morizono’s mouth thins as he sees it too. “So, have you talked to him? All the women, the drinking - does he know that it bothers you?” 

“It’s not important.” 

“Mori-” 

“It’s not. It’s just … an act.” He sighs lightly. She can tell he doesn’t really believe it even as he’s saying it. He’s torturing himself by standing here watching Danma. She looks at him, uncrosses her arm and hooks her hand into the crook of his elbow, tugs on his arm. 

“Come on, you brought all that nice food back. Let’s go eat.” 

Later, they walk towards the private garden near the indoor pools with their gyudon bowls piled high with beef. Maki insists that Morizono come check out the garden now that she’d had it fully cleaned and fixed up. Besides that, she thinks it’ll be a nice place to eat, and far enough away from Danma to put him out of mind. 

The garden is more well-lit now. The branches of the tree in the middle is strung with tiny lights, larger decorative lanterns and ground-spike lights also help to brighten the place up. Much of the overgrown foliage has been cut back with the exception of the wall-climbing plants that have only been trimmed to tidiness; weeds had been ripped out. 

During the clean-up, Maki had insisted that the large tree in the middle of the garden go untouched. She had figured out it was a flowering dogwood, and a rather old one considering the height of it. She’d been sad to find out she was months too late to see it in bloom. 

They sit on one of the benches Maki had meticulously cleaned up and Maki pulls her legs up to crisscross them. She balances her bowl in her palm, setting her knuckles atop her crossed legs. Morizono sits beside her and holds out a pair of chopsticks to her. 

“You did a good job here,” he says as he looks around. She bobs her head in a short nod, humming around a mouthful of beef and onion slices. 

They eat in peaceful silence for a few minutes. The music playing by the far-off outside pool is a quiet thrum that barely reaches them at this distance. As they get nearer to the bottoms of their bowls, Morizono looks at Maki. He pauses, thinking. 

“How …” he clears his throat quietly, looks back down to his bowl, “How did you find out?” 

Maki blinks, chopsticks poised halfway to her mouth, a slice of beef hanging from them. She takes the bite, chews, swallows. 

“You remember I said you guys weren’t subtle, right?” she replies, stirring her rice around with her chopsticks. “And you weren’t as quiet as you must’ve thought you were being when you used to sneak out.” 

“You followed me?” he, correctly, assumes. 

His tone is both surprised and disbelieving. 

“I was worried.” 

“You were nosy.” 

“I could be both.” A beat. “Anyway, I followed you out at a distance, caught you guys meeting up. I didn’t … stick around or anything for long. I saw you kiss, realised what was going on and went back to auntie’s house. After that I just … noticed more, little things that weren’t so subtle after I knew what was going on with you two.” 

He huffs at her, “Must run in the genes. You and Niragi aren’t subtle either. Always hanging around each other, the solo car rides while conveniently leaving your walking-talkie behind. The bracelet.” 

She blushes then, ducking her chin, jabbing her rice and uneaten onion around the bottom of her bowl. Her mouth twists slightly. 

“You still aren’t good at seeing the details,” she mumbles, setting her bowl to the side as she leans her elbows on her thighs, fiddling her ring around on her finger. “We really haven’t done anything. The car rides are just car rides, the bracelet is just … a promise. A deal we made.” 

She doesn’t notice the tinge of relief that briefly crosses Morizono’s expression, her gaze set firmly on one of the garden beds across from where they were sitting. 

“Why him?” Morizono asks finally. 

She thinks about it. Thinks about the way he looks at her and his ink-dark eyes, his smile directed her way and his piercings and the thrill in her chest at even a glimpse of the one through his tongue, the touch of his hands on her and his long fingers, the softness of his face against her palm; the fumbling ways he tried to comfort her when she was upset and his ever-willingness to help her out and his breath near her ear as he guided her aim; the quiet confessions, thinking no one would be waiting for him, and the glimpse into his exhausted school-hating teendom; the way his face lit up as he talked about his work, and the sound of his laugh, and the collection of penguins on the shelf behind her desk. 

Something swells up in her chest, the feeling close to bursting. Her heart thumps, feeling too big for her chest. She breathes out around it, smiles lightly, resting her freckled cheek against her knuckles. 

“I think there’s more to him than you see.” 

There’s hundreds of cars abandoned across the city. Among them are taxis. In the passenger seat of one of these taxis, Chishiya sits and fiddles with a radio propped on the dashboard above the glovebox. Laid in the backseat, Yamato is on his back, one hand tucked behind his head, his sneaker-clad feet kicked out through the rolled-down back window. He’s whistling a tune Chishiya doesn’t recognise, then he stops. Chishiya hears him shuffle, then he pops up beside him as he leans over the centre console, his broad shoulders squeezed between the front seats. He prods a finger into Chishiya’s bicep. 

“You know, you still haven’t told me what you’re doing,” he chirps. 

Chishiya glances briefly sidelong at him, then continues to fiddle with the dials on the radio. It crackles, all the stations seemingly playing static. 

“You’ll see when I find it,” he answers simply. 

“Find what?” 

Chishiya shushes him, keeps adjusting the dial until the static gives way and a voice starts to come through. Yamato perks, straining his ears to make it out. Leaning in, Chishiya carefully tunes the radio more. The static doesn’t bleed all the way away, but the steady feminine voice breaks through. 

“If you wan-… know the answe-… boarders gathered at the paradise kno-… the beach.” 

Chishiya brow creases, curious as the sentence repeats, the words all broken up by the static. Yamato’s face scrunches. He huffs as he leans his cheek onto the back of his hand. 

“Did she say 'beach'? What beach? Not that there’s any in Tokyo that I’d call much of a 'paradise' anyway,” he says, his interest quickly waning, left unimpressed as he sighs. 

“More importantly, she said 'answer'.” Chishiya de-tunes the radio, flicks it off as the static starts to grate in his ears, then pushes the passenger door open, “Come on.” 

With that, he hops out of the car, elbowing the door closed and shoving his hands into his pockets. Over the horizon, the sun has long since started its descent, shading the sky with an orangey hue. 

“Hey! Wait up!” Yamato calls as he pushes himself back out from between the front seats, shuffling along the backseat to hop out. Kicking the door shut, his pace hurries to reach Chishiya’s side as he walks down the street.

Strolling along, Yamato’s gait is light, stretching his muscular arms above his head. Chishiya glances at him in his periphery. Sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who expertly beat that hearts game Chishiya had had the misfortune of walking in to, then he recalls that glint in his eyes and supposes that’s exactly the point. That casually charming look of his is the perfect disguise, no one expected his true nature. 

Yamato’s gaze flicks his way and his head tilts, he smiles closed-lipped. 

“Are you thinking we should play another game tonight?” He asks, pulling the sleeve of his jacket back into place on his wrist. 

“I’m thinking we need a plan,” Chishiya replies, “And a map.” 

Chishiya seems to prefer his own company, it’s pretty obvious and one of few things he doesn’t try to hide. Reading people comes with Yamato’s job, but even so, Chishiya is something of challenge. He’s a closed book, and one of those locked journal types no less. Every inch that Yamato pries him open, there’s depths that he can’t begin to even imagine reaching. In simple truth, it’s what makes him so interesting. It’s why Yamato had decided to help him win that heart game. The deal of helping each other get home only made it sweeter. 

So it seems, he finds Yamato interesting too. He’s sure it’s the only reason Chishiya keeps him around. 

Now, they’re staying in one of Yamato’s co-worker’s inner city apartments. It’s minimally decorated with few personal touches. By the window, there’s a row of wilting plants in small pots, shedding curled browned leaves onto the floor. Orange sunlight shines in, but Yamato knows he’ll need to be digging out the torches and battery-powered lanterns soon enough. Chishiya sits on the couch by that same window, leaning over a map spread out on the coffee table. 

Yamato pauses in the doorway of the kitchen, looking over at him. 

He’s handsome. Not in the typical pretty-boy magazine-cover way, not like Yamato himself or the men his clients all vied over and tried to attention-grab or 'hire' at the club. No, Chishiya is some different kind of handsome. The silver tone of his hair, the constant subtle smirk on his lips, the lot of him comes together into something Yamato can’t find the right word for. He leans, shoulder against the wall, lets his eyes trace over him. 

Shaking it off, he crosses the room, slides a water bottle across to Chishiya and sits cross-legged on the ground opposite him, turning his gaze to the map. Chishiya hums his thanks as he picks up the water bottle, not even glancing towards him. Yamato folds his arms onto the coffee table. 

“How’d you know about this anyway?” He asks. 

Chishiya leans back slightly from the map. His arms lean on his legs, his hands dangle in the spread-space between his knees. He glances up at Yamato, his eyes search across his face. Yamato tilts his head, waiting. 

“You haven’t noticed them.” A statement, not a question. 

Yamato frowns, “Noticed who? What?” 

“The players with the locker tags and the walkie-talkies.” 

“And you think these people are behind the radio message we heard?” 

“If not them, then maybe whoever’s running these games. Either way it’s worth checking out.” 

“'The paradise known as the beach', where is that even supposed to be?” 

Chishiya goes quiet then. Yamato lifts his brows, realising. He doesn’t know. So much for all that smarty-smartiness, he’s just guessing. 

“Why don’t we just ask them?” Yamato proposes instead. 

Chishiya fixes him with an unconvinced look. 

Yamato smiles, “You’re not sociable, but I am.” He sits up a little straighter, holds a hand to his chest, explaining, “We play one of the games, one with some of these people, and you let me talk to them.” He motions the same hand to the map, “Unless you want to go walking around the entirety of Tokyo looking for 'paradise'?” 

“Tomorrow night then,” Chishiya says, “We’ll need to make sure we find a game with those 'boarders'.” 

“You leave the talking to me and we’ll be finding those answers in no time.” 

Chapter Text

The gardens are nice to get away to, somewhere peaceful to sit around away from the noise of the pool party. Since Maki’s cleaned them up, she’s found herself going out into them. To eat or to read or to simply just sit and rest whenever she got the chance, which isn’t often. Currently, she sits with her head tilted back towards the slow-arcing afternoon sun, eyes closed to the brightness. It’s warm against her freckled cheeks, heating the dark sheet of her hair until sweat beads along her nape. 

On one side of her, Yukimaru lays back on the seat edge of the garden bed, his eyes closed, one hand tucked behind his head. He’s dozing, but not quite asleep. Maki’s been intermittently plucking up leaves out of the garden and tucking them into his golden hair. So far, he hasn’t noticed. 

On her other side sits Sumie. She’s cross-legged and facing Maki, her sketchbook propped in her lap as she draws. Maki can hear the soft scratching of pencil on paper. Opening her eyes, she glances sideways towards Sumie, then leans to try and get a peek at the page. She blinks in surprise, then smiles. 

“Is that me?” she asks, flattered. 

“I’m not done yet,” Sumie says, shooing her back. 

Still smiling, Maki leans away, her interlocked hands fitted comfortably between her knees. She turns, plucks up another leaf and tucks it into Yukimaru’s hair, her hand hovering as his brow twitches. He settles and she chuckles. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she looks back to Sumie and her sketchpad. 

“How’d you get into drawing?” she asks. 

“I think I always was,” Sumie replies, a soft smile draws to her lips, “I used to draw on walls as a kid, my parents had to keep a huge stack of paper in my room to stop me. Ever since, I’ve just been …” She laughs lightly, “I guess you could call it obsessed. I can’t go anywhere without something to scribble in, almost everyone I follow online is an artist or some kind of blog about art. I’ve got this huge list of art museums I want to visit one day.” 

“Like where?” 

Sumie takes a moment, her head tilting in thought, then her eyes light up. 

“Have you ever been to Tokushima? There’s this museum in Naruto that’s full of ceramic art reproductions. I’ve only seen pictures, but it looks so gorgeous.” 

Maki tilts her own head, humming quietly. 

“When I think of Tokushima, I usually think of the whirlpools.” 

Sumie smiles, “Well the whirlpools are also cool. Would you like to come with me? When we get back?” 

“To Tokushima?” 

“We can take a train, we’ll make a couple days out of it. A weekend.”

“I can’t believe you two are planning some romantic getaway in front of me right now,” Yukimaru cuts in, teasing. Sumie laughs, a pretty sound that pulls a smile to Maki’s mouth. 

“You can come too if you want, Yuki,” Sumie says. “The three of us, we’ll make it a vacation. I think we deserve it after all this.” 

“Well I can’t say no to a train trip,” Yukimaru replies with a smile. He shifts and a couple of the leaves fall out of his hair. Ruffling a hand through his locks dislodges a few more and Maki laughs as he exclaims a sharp "hey!". 

He sits up to keep pulling the leaves out and Maki shifts slightly to avoid his elbows. Beside her, Sumie carefully tears the page free from her book, then flips it around to pass to Maki. Blinking in surprise, she slowly takes the page and looks at it. Sumie’s sketched her down to all the finer details; the sunlight playing across her hair and face, the spray of freckles across her cheeks and the slope of her nose. She almost doesn’t recognise herself. 

“You made me look so pretty,” she murmurs. 

“You are pretty,” Sumie insists, squeezing her knee. 

Maki smiles down at the picture, then thrusts it back towards Sumie.

“Sign it for me. It’s a Sumie original.” 

“You want my autograph?” Sumie says with a soft laugh. 

Maki wobbles the page at her, “Yes.” 

With an amused shake of her head, Sumie takes the drawing back and neatly prints her name below Maki’s portrait, then swirls her signature down with a quick swish. When she’s done, she passes it back and Maki beams. She rubs her thumbs along the smooth surface at the corner, already thinking about where she’s going to keep it. 

Niragi isn’t sure what had possessed him to keep the rifle after that game. Something about it, the feel of it in his hands. By the end of the game, he’d wanted to keep it, leaving it behind wasn’t even an option. Aguni’s sect were supposed to be 'protectors' or 'bodyguards' or something of that nature. If that were so, why shouldn’t they have weapons? The violent people they were dealing with certainly weren’t just using their hands. 

His mind flickers back to Maki. To Iwanuma. That knife. If he’d had the rifle then, that situation could’ve turned out differently. There would’ve been no punch to his face, no Maki with bloodied hands and harrowed eyes, no bent knife slammed into the conference room’s table. Iwanuma had felt brave with a knife in his hand, but how would he have coped with a gun aimed directly in his face? 

There’s no point in thinking on it much more than that. Iwanuma’s dead, all Niragi can do now is make sure Maki doesn’t end up in a situation like that again. Back then, he’d been pathetic, knocked back and stunned with just a punch to the face, useless in the matter of a stupid fight he couldn’t break up by himself, needing Maki to step in and settle the situation which had landed her in Iwanuma’s crosshairs. She could’ve been hurt. 

He couldn’t have helped her then, but he can help her now. Keep her safe. 

There’s been a shift in the air around him ever since he came back with it. He’s starting to understand what it must feel like for Last Boss to walk around with that katana on display. There’s a power in having such a weapon on display, especially around the weaponless. As he walks around the Beach, the rifle propped against his shoulder, people duck away from meeting his gaze, they shrink. He’s never been the person others cower from. It’s sparks a thrill in him. 

His appearance - the piercings, his hair, the set of his expression - had usually given people pause, left them wary of him, but this is different. Now, they were scared of him. No one would dare to try and stand up to him now, to throw a punch or argue or lash out. 

Aguni has his muscles and his own gun, Last Boss has his katana, and now, Niragi has this. Power in his hands, and he’s not going to let anyone take it from him. 

There’s few places of true privacy around the Beach, but Mira and Kuzuryu make do with what they can find. By this time of day, most people are outside by the pool or gardens, or on the lower levels of the hotel. The best option is their rooms on the ninth floor. The other executives were respectful enough to not barge into each other’s rooms, and none of the invited residents of the lower floors were even allowed this high up. 

Kuzuryu sits himself in the armchair of her room, as stiff and proper as he usually is. On the couch, Mira crosses one leg over the other, smoothing the length of her skirt. She plucks a tea cup from the coffee table, sipping from it. Kuzuryu is quiet, thinking, considering what Mira had said. 

“You think Makina is … trouble?” he asks finally, picking his words carefully. 

“Not trouble, I simply have concerns about her,” Mira replies, “She’s smart, she keeps track of things, she asks questions.” 

“And you’re 'having concerns' because she asked you about the cards?” 

“She distrusts me, which is not good.” 

Kuzuryu pauses, thoughtful again. 

“Do you want to get rid of her? We could rig up a game for her. You’ve already done it once this go-around.” 

Mira huffs quietly, swirling tea around her cup. 

“No,” she says with a sigh, “That would probably make things worse. Aguni is over-attached, there’s no telling what reaction he’ll have if she dies. It seems Niragi has become particularly fond of her too; he’s volatile when left to his own devices and now he’s armed too, I have no doubt that he’ll react badly as well, especially if Aguni is too distracted by his own grief to keep him in line. Last Boss will follow his lead, it’ll be chaos around here. Getting rid of Makina would be like toppling dominos, this place would go up in flames before we’re ready for it.” 

Kuzuryu fixes his glasses then leans his arms onto his legs, his hands loosely interlaced in front of him as he looks at her. 

“Then what are you thinking?” 

“We need to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t go digging. She needs to be …” Mira pauses, hums, “Distracted.” 

Kuzuryu’s head tilts, knowing her too well by now. 

“And you’ve got a plan?” 

Mira smiles, “It’s already in motion, my dear Keiichi.” 

Maki sits in her office. She’s cleared her desk of everything except the decks of cards and her notebook. Her pen cup has been pushed all the way to the far right corner, just out of reach. The rest of her notebooks have been piled into the open drawer beside her. She stares at the collected card decks, everything except Danma’s personal hidden set. 

Or it should be everything. 

She picks up the set of spades again. Starts to recount them for the fourth time. She’s already called for Danma, to tell him about it. This is his paradise after all, he’s the 'leader' and she knows she has to tell him, find out what he wants to do - if anything. Maybe he’ll address the residents, remind them all cards were supposed to be handed in. She hopes it’ll be that easy. 

She sets the cards down, sighs. There are definitely cards missing. She doesn’t know how she didn’t notice it earlier. Pulling her notebook closer, she flicks through the pages, trying to figure out where she could’ve missed something, she’s sure she’s been noting down every card. 

The door to her office opens and the quiet is broken by the grating sound of Danma and a woman’s laughter. They stumble into the room, arm in arm. Maki tries to keep her expression neutral, but she can feel the way her jaw tightens slightly, frustrated on her brother’s behalf. 

“Makina,” Danma greets cheerily. 

Maki eyes the girl hanging off Danma’s arm. Her eyes narrow slightly. 

“Can I speak to you? Privately,” she emphasises, a pointed look in the woman’s direction. It’s not her fault, Maki understands as much that she doesn’t know any better, but Danma does and that only fuels Maki’s annoyance. Danma’s encouragement of her - and all those other women around the Beach - is frustrating. 

He rolls his eyes, but still pats the woman’s arm and ushers her towards the door. She pouts, but leaves and closes the door behind her. Danma stretches his neck from side to side, then pushes his sunglasses up on top of his hair. He turns back towards her. 

“What’s wrong? What’s with that look on your face?” He asks, frowning at her, peering down at the cards on the table. Despite herself, she doesn’t say what she wants to, about the women, about Morizono. Instead, Maki’s frown deepens as she folds her hands on the table. The decks lay neatly piled between them. 

She takes a breath to try and settle her nerves. 

“I think we’re missing cards,” she says plainly. 

“What?” He darts closer, snatching up one set of the cards, thumbing quickly through them, “How is that possible? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping track of this?” 

The tone of his voice makes her glare at him. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I’m sure all the teams came through, I just need to figure out who didn’t hand in all their cards.” 

“Well, figure it out quickly and don’t tell anybody else about this,” he snaps, clutching the cards defensively. She clenches her teeth, biting around an unspoken retort. “And lock all these back up before someone tries to come in here and steal more.” 

He grumbles under his breath, “Lucky I kept a set for myself.” 

The words stab, the knife of them slipping between her ribs. She sucks in a breath. One of her hands tightens into a fist, blunt nails into her palm, hidden underneath her other hand. She breathes out. Danma sets the cards back down with a snap and Maki quickly wraps a rubber band around them. He turns to leave, and she looks at the tension in the line of his shoulders. The door slams closed and Maki jumps slightly. 

Gritting her teeth, she sets the cards into the safe and locks it tight. Sitting back behind her desk, she pulls her notebook towards her and starts pouring through her lists again. 

There’s something she’s missed, she just has to find it. 

Her second day of reading through her notes goes uneventfully. She works late into the night, long enough that Morizono comes and insists she go to bed, threatening to drag her there himself if she didn’t go within the hour. He’s worried about her passing out again, she knows it, and yet she works all the way up to the last minute until Morizono is back at her office door and frowning at her. She sighs, relents, closes her notebook into her drawer, and lets him walk her to her room. 

Her third day, she turns out a short list of names. Possible suspects that she’s narrowed down through trial and error, people she couldn’t be sure of or couldn’t fully trust. That night as she’s penning the final name on the line, Danma pushes into her office, striding over to stand on the other side of her desk. He leans his hand onto it as she looks up at him, her eyes underlined heavily dark with exhaustion. She can’t see his eyes through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, but from the grim set of his mouth she can tell this has been weighing on him too. 

“These are your suspects?” he asks, reaching out to snatch the notepad from her. 

She huffs, setting her pen down and rubbing a hand over her tired face. 

“And their room numbers. I was thinking we can get Mori and the guys to check them and see if the cards are there. Their sect has a lot of numbers now, so it’s shouldn’t take too long.” 

“Leave it to me to deal with.” 

Her brows furrow, “Are you … sure?” 

She’s surprised. Danma’s never stepped up to deal with any of the situations around the Beach. Morizono, Niragi and Last Boss have been dealing with the worst of the residents; Ann’s been dealing with trying to figure out the mysteries surrounding the borderland; and Maki’s been dealing with just about everything else around here. The lot of them have been working tirelessly while Danma’s been schmoozing around. 

Whatever, she decides, it’s about time that he pull his weight. She’s too tired anyway. 

“Fine, when you find the cards, call me over the walkie and I’ll sort them away.” 

“This better not happen again, Maki,” he says lowly. There’s something in his tone that makes her pause, a confusing cold shiver down her spine that makes her sit a little straighter. 

“It won’t. I’ll pay closer attention.” 

He rips the page from the notepad, fold it, drops the pad back onto her desk, then turns to leave without another word. For a minute or so after he goes, the air still feels thick with that strange disconcerting feeling. She exhales, runs her hand over her face again. She really must be tired. Danma’s just Danma, he hasn’t been any kind of dangerous since teenagedom when he and Morizono were delinquents making names for themselves. Shrugging the feeling off, she rounds her desk and heads out. 

At least Morizono won’t be able to nag her about not going to bed early, she thinks, yawning. 

By afternoon of day four, Maki, Sumie and Yukimaru are sitting in her office. Maki sits behind her desk, while Yukimaru has pushed himself atop a table against the wall and Sumie sits in the chair by him as she sketches. Yukimaru is marking and listing through their food supplies, while Maki does the same with medical supplies they’d gathered from nearby hospitals. They work in peaceful quiet, intermittently chatting about nothing in particular whenever something pops into mind. 

In the back of her thoughts, she wonders about the missing cards, if Danma and the others guys had had any luck in finding them. Her walkie-talkie is sitting in wait on her desk but she hasn’t heard anything from them yet. There wasn’t that many names on the list Danma had taken, she expected at least some of the cards would’ve been found by now - unless they’d all been taken by the same person or group. She lightly drums the end of her pen against the page of her notebook, her eyes trailing over the words and numbers. 

Sumie and Yukimaru share a look that goes unnoticed by Maki, then Sumie leans her elbows onto her thighs, her sketch pad closed on her lap. 

“So …” Sumie starts and Maki glances slightly up, “You and Ni-”

Before she can say anything more, the door swings open as Morizono enters the office. Sumie and Yukimaru stiffen slightly, falling quiet in his presence. When Maki looks up at him, she frowns when she notices how pale her brother’s face is. She stands quickly, angling around her desk to move towards him. She reaches for his arm and he flinches slightly when she squeezes it. 

“Mori … what happened?” she asks, her voice thin with growing worry. 

He’s quiet. His frown is set and he doesn’t fully meet her eyes. He glances towards Yukimaru, addresses him instead. 

“Yukimaru, Hatter wants to call a meeting, he has a new rule for the Beach. Go make sure there are no stragglers. Sumie, you go too,” he says after a long beat. His voice sounds hollow, like he’s barely there in his body. He never calls Danma 'Hatter', and that tone of voice isn’t like him at all, what was going on? 

Yukimaru nods quickly, hopping down from the desk and tugging on Sumie’s arm, the both of them hurrying out the door, sparing only a moment to throw half-confused-half-worried looks at Maki over Morizono’s shoulder as they pass behind him. She doesn’t look at them, focused intently on her brother, her eyes searching him. 

“What happened?” she repeats pressingly, “Did he find the missing cards?” 

A rigid tension tightens across his body, his jaw setting. There’s something in his eyes that she can’t read, like he’s pained by something. He looks close to crumbling, then he exhales and steels himself. Whatever it is, he buries it deep within himself. She’s never seen him like this, it makes her heart pound, seized with panic. He pulls out of her gentle grip. 

“We need to go. He’s waiting. He wants us all there.” 

Morizono’s pace is quick and Maki follows hurriedly after him. Her expression is pinched. Confusion twists achingly in her chest. What had happened? Had they found the cards? What new rule is Danma implementing and why is it so important that it has to happen right now? And why won’t her brother talk to her? Why won’t he explain? All these questions and more run through her mind as she scurries along, a step behind her brother. 

As they reach the balcony where Danma usually makes his speeches, Morizono steps into place in front of Niragi and Last Boss. Niragi’s rifle is propped against his shoulder, he stands stiffly, his gaze turned out toward the blank empty air above the ground floor annex. His eyes are a little glassy and his jaw tense. Maki grabs at his arm as she falls into line beside him, her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. He looks down at her, meets her desperate worried gaze. His mouth is set in a grim line that makes her feel even worse. She feels nauseous. 

“What’s going on?” she asks quietly, urgent, distressed. 

“It’s bad,” comes Niragi’s clipped reply. 

Morizono looks back to her and her brows furrow, looking between his and Niragi’s barely-masked harrowed faces. Releasing Niragi’s arm, she steps up to her brother’s side. She inhales deeply, tries to force her heartbeat into some semblance of evenness. It can’t be that bad, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, she tells herself, trying to will it into existence. 

Danma stands at the railing of the main annex. His mouth is set in a scowling line, some kind of thinly veiled anger, and dark sunglasses cover his eyes. His hair is bedraggled and damp, a mess as it curls around his face. She notices offhandedly that he’s changed clothes - a different kimono-style robe and different board shorts - and wonders why. His previous one had become part of his ‘look’, almost iconically so. 

Below, in the space of the ground floor annex, residents crowd and murmur amongst themselves, clearly confused about why they’d all been gathered there. Danma leans a hand onto the railing, the other he raises to silence the crowd. They go quickly quieter, but not fully silent. 

“We have had traitors in our midst!” Danma addresses loudly. 

Confusion pings around the ground floor. 

“These traitors to the Beach tried to hide cards from us! It could not go unpunished!” His voice rings across the newly stunned-silent annex as he holds the cards up. At this short distance, she can see the bruises on his hands, his knuckles red and scraped. Then, an overlap of voices, bedlam rising in volume. Danma slams his hands on the railing and the crowd goes quiet again. His voice is strangely even as he continues, “From this day on, there will be a new rule at the Beach.” 

He pauses. Ever the dramatist, Maki thinks numbly. 

“Death to all traitors.” 

Her head snaps towards Morizono, as if she hadn’t heard right and needed him to confirm. He just reaches out to grab her wrist and squeezes, a silent attempt at stopping her from doing something. Danma can’t be serious. She wants to lunge at him and scream: What about paradise? What about community? What about hope? 

But her brother’s hand is still gripping her wrist. 

Danma’s speech comes to a close, unheard by Maki over the thrown-off-kilter ringing in her ears, and he turns away from the crowd. He shoves the cards into Maki’s hand, barely slowing his pace as he stalks away. She grips the cards hard enough to bend them, the sides pressing sharply into her palm. Slowly, the crowd below disperses, leaving the annex, still murmuring amongst themselves. The other executives, too, start to leave. 

For a moment, Niragi glances at the siblings before Morizono waves him off. Reluctantly, he walks away. 

Maki wretches her wrist out of Morizono’s grip, twisting to look at him. 

“What the fuck is going on?” she hisses, “Those people - tell me they’re not dead.” 

He says nothing. 

“Morizono,” she continues sharply. There’s frustrated, confused tears stinging behind her eyes that she rapidly blinks back. 

“I didn’t know he would …” he trails off, presses his lips together, exhales through his nose. “They were dead before I got there.” 

Her lips tremble and she presses her palm to her mouth, feeling like she’s going to throw up. He reaches out a comforting hand but she moves away before he can touch her. She swipes her hand over her face, swallowing the sick feeling down as she tries to calm herself. 

“There is something wrong with him.” 

“Maki-” 

“He’s killed people.” 

“We all have.” 

She snaps her gaze back to him, shaking her head. 

“Only to survive. Not like this, for - for these fucking cards.” 

She shakes the cards at him, bent in vertical halves in her hand. Her eyes search over his face and what she finds makes her chest sting in disbelief. He was going to go along with it, with Danma’s sick new rule. Even now, after what he’d seen, he was still choosing Danma. 

Wordless, she sets her jaw, her eyes stinging as she turns and quickly walks off, her stance stiff as she head back to her office, the cards still gripped in hand. 

She slams the door to her office so hard it rattles on its hinges. Her breaths come out in rough puffs. Her hand hurts where the sides of the cards dig into her flesh. She can feel herself trembling. What had Danma done? Had he really killed those people? Over the cards? Over his own lie? Why? 

It’s a conscious effort to get her feet to finally move and cross the room. She grabs the lock of the safe, jams the key into it, opens the door, and grabs the decks out. 

As she fits the once-missing cards into the deck, her stomach twists at the spots of blood on them. She doesn’t know how to begin to clean them. She thinks maybe to ask Ann, then decides she doesn’t want to think about these specific cards at all anymore. She puts them away, relocks the safe. 

The facts trickle into her mind again. Danma had killed people. She had lead him to them, she had written their death sentences by putting their names on that list. 

Why had she let him take that list? Why didn’t she insist on giving it to Morizono and letting him take the lead on the search? Her brother wouldn’t have done this if he’d been in charge. If it had been him, they’d still be alive. She wants to believe that, needs to. 

Her hand tremble. She needs to see. She needs to see, with her own eyes, what Danma had done. 

It’s not the first room she checks so she continues on, quickly apologising to the occupants. It’s not the second room either. As she moves down the floors, her nerves don’t wane. With every wrong room, and every step towards the right room, her anxiety grows. She needs to see what Danma’s done. She doesn’t want to see what he’s done. She doesn’t want to see what her brother is forgiving. She doesn’t want to see the deaths she’s caused. She should’ve never told Danma that cards were missing. If she had known this would happen, she would’ve never told him. 

As the doors to the elevator opens, she’s surprised to see Niragi standing out in the hall. He steps out of her way, eyeing her curiously. As she passes by him and starts down the hallway, he hurries to her side. 

“Maki? What are you doing?” he says, matching her quick pace. 

Her jaw sets almost painfully tight. She knows her words will come out shaky if she speaks, so she doesn’t. If he’s here, then this must be the right place the right room. Morizono’s sect must be cleaning it up, cleaning up for Danma. Of course he would do the crime but not the tidy up afterwards, it’d be asking too much of him. Her throat constricts, she feels like she’s choking. She wants to find him and yell at him, scream at him. How could he do this? 

Niragi glances down the hall, towards the room she was clearly heading for. He grimaces. She reaches for the doorknob. He steps in front of her, blocking her way to the door before she can open it. He sets his rifle to the side, leaning it against the wall by the doorjamb. Her hand is still wrapped around the doorknob as his hands land on her shoulders. She can’t look at him, can’t meet his eye. She stares instead at the pattern of his shirt, the black and white blurring. 

“You don’t want to go in there, Makina,” he says gently. 

“I do. I need to see what he did.” Her breath hitches. She shoves her knuckles against her lips, trying to force the tremble away. 

She’d sent Danma here. She’d told him the way and now people are dead. Is the blood not also on her hands? Is this not also her fault? 

“Get out of my way, Niragi, just let me-” 

Niragi’s arms wrap around her. One hand cradles the back of her head, guiding her towards his chest. His other arm curls around her shoulders, she can feel the beads of the bracelet against her back. She freezes, then trembles. Tears prickle into her eyes. She wraps her arms around Niragi’s waist, her fingers curling into his shirt. 

“It - it’s my fault,” she chokes out, “I made that list, I told him where to go.” 

“Don’t put this on yourself. What happened here, it’s on Hatter.” He continues with a grumble under his breath, “Even if we’re going to take the blame for it.” 

She shakes her head, shudders out a sob. 

“He wouldn’t have known, he wouldn’t have known if I didn’t say anything. I shouldn’t have said anything. They’re just cards, they’re just stupid cards.” 

He runs his fingers gently through the length of her hair. Nudging her back slightly, he palms her cheek, swipes his thumb through the trail of a tear. His eyes flick across her reddened face. 

“Don’t blame yourself for this, Makina. Why don’t you take the night off? I’m sure Yukimaru can handle collecting the cards tonight.” 

She jerks slightly and shakes her head, tears clinging to her lashes, her voice choked up as she replies, “I can’t. I have to make sure I don’t miss any more so this doesn’t happen again.” 

“Then I’ll come down and help you tonight, make sure everyone hands in the right amount of cards.” 

She nods shortly, her thanks silent but obvious. His thumb runs across the curve of her freckled cheek with an aim for comforting. Her fingers are still gripping his shirt by his waist, like she needs something to keep herself steady. 

“Makina.” 

Quickly, at the sound of Morizono’s voice, Niragi’s hands drop away from her. She forces herself to take a step back, put distance between them. Quickly, she glances aside away from her brother, swipes her hand across her face to clear away any stray tears and salt-damp streaks. She clears her throat as Morizono crosses to them. Niragi shifts, picks up his rifle, sways his weight from foot to foot as he puts his back to the door. He doesn’t quite look at Morizono or Maki, glancing around the hall instead, his expression forced into something neutral. 

“Are you okay? What are you doing here?” Morizono asks as he reaches Maki’s side, fitting himself between her and Niragi to nudge her further away from him. 

“I was just …” she trails off, looks to Niragi, then past him to the door. “It’s … nothing. I’m fine. Are you okay? Have you talked to Danma?” 

“Not yet, and don’t you go talk to him either. Just … give him some space for now, I’ll go see him later.” There’s a bleak dourness to her brother’s expression, beyond it she can see a kind of gnawing worry. He glances back, away from Maki, to the closed door. “We need to finish cleaning up here.” 

And that’s code for asking her to leave. 

“Right.” She nods shortly, understanding. 

She takes a step to leave, then pauses, turns back to hook her arms around Morizono’s neck and drag him into a hug. It’s a short thing, a quick squeeze, a warm twist of easing comfort forming in her chest. He’s always protected her, a strong sturdy wall between her and danger. She has to believe he knows what he’s doing, she has to believe everything will be okay. He’s never let her down before, she’s sure he won’t start now. 

His arms wrap around her waist, tight and familiar, a moment’s solace. Then they part. 

Maki turns to leave. She hears the door opening. She doesn’t look back. 

Chapter Text

As it turns out, these people are harder to find that they thought. Yamato and Chishiya pass over a number of games, some where they can see the players inside and others where they can’t, before they give up for the night and decide to just enter one, knowing they need to add to their visas tonight whether there are 'boarders' playing or not. 

They walk side-by-side into the entrance hall of a corner-shaped apartment complex. Chishiya crosses immediately to a wall-side table with the phones, meanwhile Yamato pauses to look around. There’s only a few players milling in the small squared foyer. A couple men slouch around, and a couple nervous-looking women stand close to each other. He drags his eyes over them, notes that none of them have the tag bracelets Chishiya had mentioned. A small frown downturns his lips. 

It really is something he wouldn’t otherwise notice, his brain ran more towards reading the people themselves, their expressions and their twitches. If he was going to pay attention to the things people wore, it was usually pretty women and their clothes and their accessories, covetous things worn by the upper class, worn by women worth wasting his time with. 

He walks over to stand by Chishiya, who holds a phone out to him. Taking it, he registers in with a few taps on the screen and shoves the phone into his pocket. Beside him, Chishiya leans against the wall, sticking his headphones into his ears. By his heel, the rigged-up Walkman sits on the ground, plugged into a wall socket. It looks innocent enough, but Yamato knows the truth. It’s not just a music player. 

When Yamato says Chishiya is unsociable, this is exactly what he means. The point of his chin is dipped towards his chest, his gaze downturned, his hands shoved in his pockets and his hood pulled up, hiding his hair and shadowing over much of his face. Beside him, Yamato looks like much more of an open book, his dark hair purposely styled and his round dark eyes. Even with the muscular cut of his figure, he doesn’t come off as necessarily intimidating. He lazily sways his weight back and forth, heel to toe to heel to toe, as he waits for the game to start. 

There’s no telling what the game is going to be before it begins. Especially not in a place like this. The apartment complex gives nothing away. He hopes for a heart, knows Chishiya probably wants a diamond. With their luck tonight, it’ll likely be neither. 

Another woman enters the hall. She looks to be on the younger side of early twenties with a short bob cut and wearing athletic clothes; she’s not unattractive, but not Yamato’s type. His eyes flick to her wrists. Nothing. Not one of the beach boarders. He huffs a quiet sigh, swings back, leans against the wall beside Chishiya. 

Others slowly make their way in. Separately come in: a younger man in a cap who seems confused, a pair of skinny men who - from the way they’re talking - are first time players, and then another pair of men, one dark haired and one blond, both rather attractive. Time is dwindling towards the registration deadline. Yamato picks at a loose string at the sleeve of his jacket. 

Finally, with only a few minutes to spare, two more men walk in. One tall and broadly muscled, the other thinner and squirrelly. More importantly, as they pass by Yamato, he sees the bracelets. His hand flits out, grabs Chishiya’s wrist. His head lifts minutely, he glances sideways at Yamato, who nods towards the men and their bracelets. A small smile pulls to Chishiya’s mouth. 

The deadline hits and the laser grid by the entrance glints red for a moment before fading back to nothingness. Their phones chime and a robotic voice begins to speak. Yamato stands a little straighter, pushing away from the wall. Beside him, Chishiya pulls his earbuds out to listen. 

“Registration closed. The game will now commence. Five of Spades. Game, Tag.” Yamato frowns. Spades. He’s by no means un-athletic, but he’s still no fan of spades. Around him, a few of the players shift, the girl with short hair begins to stretch. The rules continue, “Rule, avoid whoever is 'it'. Clear condition, discover and touch the button hidden in one of the apartments within the time limit. Once this objective is fulfilled, the game is complete. Time limit, twenty minutes. If the game is not completed before the time limit, the hidden bomb in the building will explode.” 

So it seems, it won’t be a long game tonight and the risk is high for a level-5 game. Worried murmurs make their way around the group. 

The voice continues unfazed, “The game will commence in two minutes.” 

“Come on,” Chishiya says quietly and Yamato follows. 

Stepping into an elevator, the two head up through the floor until they reach the top. Chishiya leads on, the night breeze ruffling through his silvery hair. They come to a stop at a flat railing, overlooking the rest of the floors. He leans his arms onto the railing and Yamato steps around to his side, crossing his arms loosely. 

“So we’re leaving this one to these other guys, huh?” Yamato says, peering over the edge to the other floors where players were scrambling. 

“For now,” he answers laxly, “I want to see where everyone is, and here’s the best vantage point to watch from.” 

There’s footsteps to their left and, as they look over, they see the pair of boarders. Chishiya shifts, lifts his hand in a casual wave. The bulky guy looks their way, his expression set in disinterest, then he turns and walks off without any kind of response. Chishiya’s hand drops, hanging loosely over the edge of the railing. He scoffs quietly. Yamato holds back a smirk, breathing out through his nose. 

“Let’s see how many get lucky tonight,” Chishiya says as he turns back. “I’m betting a bunch are going to bite it like they always do.” 

As the tagger gets released and the timer starts, the game truly begins. There’s a loud fanfare blaring and Yamato grimaces at the noise, rubbing at one of his ears. Holed up on the top floor, he and Chishiya are rather safe. The rest of the players aren’t so lucky. Shouts and gunfire quickly erupts through the complex. Yamato leans his chin into his palm as he watches the Horsehead move along the floors. Most of the women and a few of the men get quickly shot down, including the pair of newbies. One man that steps out of the confines of the complex gets quickly lasered. 

At some point, one of the male players starts calling out where the tagger is and Yamato quirks a brow. It’s not the safest option to be yelling out like that. In fact, it’s a horrible decision. Others might find out where the tagger is, but now the tagger knows where he is too. Chishiya notes this, partly amused but vocalising his assumption that no one will play along with such a plan. 

Surprise crosses both men’s faces when another player actually responds, calling out in turn as she clambers up between floors. 

“Hey, look at her go,” Yamato points out, impressed. 

“A climber,” Chishiya remarks, leaning a little over the railing as they watch the athletic girl leap up effortlessly between floors to escape the tagger. “She’s not bad.” 

Yamato quirks a brow his way, frowns slightly, “Not that smart though, yelling out like that. She’s going to lead the tagger right to her. She can’t run forever like that.” 

They fall back into silence as the game continues. Chishiya checks the timer on his phone every so often. It’s getting low now and Yamato is getting antsy. None of the doors anyone has tried have opened and the Horsehead doesn’t look to be slowing down or running out of bullets anytime soon. 

Chishiya checks his phone again, a little over six minutes left, then he taps his knuckles to Yamato’s bicep before turning to start walking off. He hums out a little 'and here we go'. His hands tuck comfortably into his pockets as he strolls, his pace and expression casual. 

Confusion paints across Yamato’s face. 

“You figured it out? You know where we’re going?” he asks as he hurries to catch up to Chishiya, falling into step at his side. 

“I did, and I don’t think I’m the only one,” he replies. 

Yamato frowns. He’d been too busy watching the other remaining players escape the Horsehead; whatever Chishiya had noticed, Yamato had missed. Glancing around, he shrugs it off. So long as they won, so long as they got closer to getting home, he didn’t care. 

As they walk, Yamato can make out the muffled sounds of fighting going on. He glances around, but can’t see anyone, the tagger included. A quiet huff passes his lips. Who’d be dumb enough to try and take on that Horsehead? His lips purse, he hasn’t seen that big 'boarder' guy since the beginning of the game. Could it be him? With his muscles, he’d probably be the only one who could possibly match up. Hopefully he survives, or at least survives long enough for Yamato to get some information out of him. 

As they stroll towards a door surrounded with bullet holes, Yamato spies another player heading for that same door. It’s the dark haired guy from earlier, one of the last players to enter before the closed registration. As he glances around, he notes he can’t see the guy’s cute blond friend anywhere. Was he fighting the Horsehead? 

“Figured it out too, huh?” Chishiya says as he approaches the guy. 

“Yeah. The button’s got to be in here,” he replies, reaching for the door handle. 

Yamato, saying nothing, sways on his feet as he waits for the guy to open it. His gaze travels over him. He’s on the plain side, dressed frumpily in a dirty grey hoodie with messy hair hanging limply around his face. Not unattractive, but not much of a head-turner either with how he’s looking. His hand grips the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn him. Yamato puffs out a breath. 

“Gonna open it?” Chishiya prompts, lifting a dark brow. 

“Why was he chasing us?” the guy questions. Yamato rolls his eyes. What does it matter, he wants to ask. “He could’ve just waited here.”

“Guess there’s something we don’t know,” Chishiya offers with a shrug, then holds his phone up, the timer still ticking down, “but there’s not much time left now.” 

The phone chimes, reminding them there’s only minutes left. 

Finally, the guy opens the door to a dark room. Chishiya follows him inside and Yamato follows behind him, his steps slow and cautious. The room is inky black, the shadows stretching far, barely any of the outside light reaching in. It makes his stomach turn, his jaw setting tight. Part of him wants to reach out for Chishiya’s hand, to find some kind of comfort there. But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he just follows along as they walk further in. 

Suddenly, he hears the soft thud of a foot hitting floor behind him. He freezes, turns just in time to see a gun raising, aimed at them. A gasp chokes in his throat, the other guy, yelling, shoves Chishiya into Yamato’s side just as the gun goes off. Yamato’s ears ring as he’s knocked to the ground by Chishiya’s weight. His elbow stings where it hits the floor. Chishiya recovers quickly, shifting into a crouch, his hand diving into his pocket to retrieve the Walkman-made-taser before driving it into the side of the second Horsehead with an electric crackle. 

The Horsehead drops to the ground with a thump. The trio pant. Yamato stares wide-eyed at the person, drawing his feet away from where they’d fallen and towards himself, his legs feeling like jelly as he raises into a crouch, too unsteady to fully get up. Chishiya stands fully and the other player steps to his side, both looking at the Horsehead. 

“Never hurts to be prepared,” Chishiya huffs, turning the makeshift taser in his hand. The other player nods, part thankful, part understanding. 

Then the gun goes off again, narrowly missing them. 

Chishiya grabs Yamato by the arm, cutting off his squawk of surprise, yanking him back out the door and slamming it shut on a hail of gunfire. They listen, hearing the muffled sounds of bullets, then look to each other. Was that guy okay? Or did he get hit? 

They don’t have to wait long for an answer as they hear him shout. 

“The button’s up here! Room 406!” he hollers, “I can’t clear the game alone! We need two people to do it!” 

Chishiya and Yamato frown at each other. 

“Seriously?” Chishiya mutters to himself, still holding the door closed. 

They can’t possibly enter, not with that Horsehead in there. Yamato hears more gunfire and his gut drops. There’s no way that guy can fight the second tagger by himself, but he and Chishiya aren’t really fighters either. Even with both of them rushing from behind, there’s no large chance that they’ll get lucky and be able to overpower it. Even with the taser, it had already gotten up so quickly. 

The phones ding again. Down to one minute. 

Chishiya looks at him again, then slowly he opens the door. Yamato wants to grab him, force him to stay put and wait for someone more capable. With a steeling breath, he follows him in. They creep slowly into the room towards the second door, then peek in. 

They’re met with another round of gunfire. 

Yamato yelps as a bullet glances off his shoulder. 

It knocks the air out of his lungs. There’s only a brief moment before the pain sets in. It’s a kind of burning, then a painful throbbing like someone’s just slammed a direct solid punch into the upper curve of his shoulder. His hand immediately reaches for it and he chokes around a pained sound, the searing pain humming at the touch as he feels blood weeping hotly against his palm and fingers. 

Chishiya grabs him by his good arm as he whimpers, pulling him into a crouch. 

Inside the room, the guy yells, his voice straining, “Someone! Help me!” 

More gunfire. 30 seconds left. Gunfire. 20 seconds. Chishiya peers into the room, crouched low to the ground. Yamato hears the sound of a woman’s voice,  'you called?'. Is that the climber? 10 seconds. Gunfire. 

“Here!” Chishiya calls, crackling the taser before tossing it over to the woman. 

Keeping his distance, Yamato watches as the woman jumps, catches the taser and jams the buzzing end into the Horsehead’s ankle. The Horsehead drops again, crumpling to the floor, the gun skittering away. 

Four seconds. 

“The buttons!” The guy yells. 

Three seconds. 

Yamato’s breath catches. 

Two seconds. 

The pair run. They jump. 

One second. 

Their hands slam onto the buttons with loud clanks. 

A beat of silence feels like it drags on, as if time itself has slowed to a crawl. Then, the four phones in the room chime, a congratulatory jingle. Yamato breathes out, relieved. 

“Game clear. Congratulations,” the robotic voice echoes from the phones. 

Chishiya stands by the door and Yamato slowly rises to his feet to stand beside him, his hand still gripping over the bleeding wound. The Horsehead - now sans horse head mask - starts to move, sitting up. It’s a woman, middle aged, curly hair plastered to her sweaty face. Around her neck, something starts to beep, the sound getting faster until suddenly, the mechanism explodes, spraying blood across the walls. The woman drops, dead, to the ground, blood starting to pool around her body. Yamato jolts in surprise, but Chishiya barely flinches. His face scrunches slightly, expression unreadable as he glances over the blood spatter. 

Slowly, the other two stand and leave the room. Chishiya hangs back and Yamato stays with him. It’s not long before the lights go out and he shivers in the darkness. The blood looks black in the low moon-blue lighting. Chishiya’s still looking around the room. Yamato stands in the doorway, looking at the dead woman. Another player, like them. 

Was it just chance? Had she and that other Horsehead just shown up first and been chosen as the taggers? Or was they more important than that? Did they have something to do with setting up this game?

Chishiya turns, walks closer, crouches down by the body. He searches her pockets and soon pulls out a small folded piece of white paper. Yamato steps towards him, leans over to look as he unfolds it. He frowns. 

“A bunch of squiggles. Great,” he says huffily. Chishiya turns the paper, one way then the other. There’s a curious glint in his eyes. If his injury didn’t hurt so bad, he might’ve thought it was cute. But as it is, his shoulder is smarting and a piece of paper with scribbles on it isn’t much of a prize. 

“Maybe,” Chishiya says, “or maybe not.” 

They collect up more cards from the dead players. It’s a pitiful haul. Six cards from the lot. Heading back to the entrance, they pick up their own winning cards and visas. All of the lights are off now, the only visibility they get is from the blue moonlight casting around, sending shadows to cling blackly into dusty corners. Yamato sigh miserably. His shoulder aches with every thump of his heartbeat. There’s blood staining down his sleeve and across his shoulder. His shirt and jacket are ruined and that annoys him even more. 

“We were cutting it close this time,” Chishiya admits as he taps the gathered cards into a neat - small - deck. He slips it into his jacket pocket, glances sidelong at Yamato as they leave down the stairs. 

“And those boarder guys are gone already, I didn’t even get a chance to talk to them,” he complains, frowning. 

They walk along in silence. Yamato doesn’t have much to say anyway. His arm hurts so much that he can barely think of anything else. The bleeding seems to have slowed, but his sleeve is soaked and the fabric is stuck against his skin. With every step, every heartbeat, he’s made acutely aware of the pain all over again. 

Eventually, they trail up into the apartment. Yamato slumps in, kicks his shoes off by the door and turns into the kitchen to dig a water bottle out of the not-working fridge. He uncomfortably shucks his jacket off with a hiss of pain, then dumps it onto the kitchen counter. It’s not even worth keeping now with the tear and the bloodstains. In the living room, Chishiya goes and clicks on a couple of the lanterns, casting a warm glow around the room. 

“Come here, let me see your arm,” he says, motioning to the couch as he digs out a home medical kit and sets it on the coffee table beside the folded-up map. 

Yamato walks out of the kitchen, puts his water bottle on the coffee table, then sits down carefully to avoid jostling his arm too much. 

“Take your shirt off,” Chishiya says as he sits down beside him, fiddling within the kit as he picks things out. Yamato looks at him, lifts an accusing amused brow, huffs a short laugh. Chishiya rolls his eyes in response. 

“I need to be able to see the wound clearly,” he continues. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Yamato replies, his laugh cutting off with a short grunt of pain as he tries to pull his shirt up from the hemline. Chishiya frowns, his hand closing around Yamato’s wrist to stop him. 

“I’ll just cut it off, okay?” he offers instead. 

Yamato nods shortly, grimacing. Helping him move his arm aside, Chishiya grabs a small pair of scissors from the kit and starts to carefully cut up the side seam of his shirt. He cuts up to the neckline and Yamato flits a hand to the loosened fabric, pulling it all the way off and crumpling it in his lap. Chishiya shifts to look closer at the wound. He grabs some wipes from the kit, cleaning away the blood. 

“You’re lucky, it doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches,” he says as he gently wipes around the graze. Yamato pouts as he looks sideways to the wound. “But it’s going to leave a scar.” 

Yamato sighs, “I guess a scar is better than being dead.” 

He hisses as Chishiya wipes over the wound, a sting of pain spreading through his bicep. Chishiya hushes him, continuing to clean up the wound. Yamato tries to distract himself from the pain, taking a breath. He turns his gaze towards Chishiya, takes him in. Silver-blonde hair, dark brows, sharp features, the small spot of a dark freckle beneath one of his dark-lashed eyes. Chishiya’s hand is warm and soft in the crook of his elbow, keeping him arm steady as he wipes blood away. 

For a moment, those dark eyes shift up to meet his. Their gazes hold. 

Chishiya’s still hard to read. Other mens’ eyes betray themselves, he’s familiar with perverted hunger, with desire. In Chishiya, he can see none of the usual salacity. There’s something else, something he can’t quite put a name to. His dark eyes are intense. Yamato’s heart ba-thumps, and he finds himself looking away first. He swallows, his chin dipping as he glances aside, putting forth an image of muffling pain to hide his own emotions. 

Leaning over, Chishiya pulls gauze and medical tape out of the kit. He patches over the wound, sticking the edges down firmly. Yamato can feel the warmth of his hands as his fingers run along the tape, pressing it down. He looks over it, making sure it’s set properly, then his fingertips run down the back of Yamato’s bicep, tripping off his elbow. 

“There, it should be fine now,” he says, turning to start cleaning up the bloodied wipes and replacing everything into the kit. 

“Thank you,” he says then reaches over to squeeze Chishiya’s hand, his thumb runs along the points of his knuckles. 

Without pausing to see his reaction, Yamato stands from the couch, still fisting the crumpled fabric of his shirt, and heads off towards the bedroom for the night. 

Sitting behind her desk in the main annex, Maki shifts nervously. Yukimaru stands at her side. After she counts through the cards twice, she passes them to him and he counts them again. He doesn’t complain about the extra piece of work, just does it wordlessly and packs the cards away into the bag hanging around his wrist. 

On Maki’s other side, Niragi stands like a guard. He has his rifle and he watches over her as every team steps up to the table. Residents glance warily at him, then quickly pass their cards over. More than one group quickly insists it’s all their cards, but Maki still carefully counts out their cards two times before letting them leave. 

It’s the longest card collection has taken since the first time. The air is heavy with a choking unease. Maki can feel antsy tension making her hands tremble and she tries to force it down, force her hands to be steady as she counts and sorts and passes-off cards. 

The night dwindles on and, as the time grows between returning teams, Maki realises something: she hasn’t seen her brother come back yet. She leans back against the back of her chair, looking to Niragi. 

“Has anyone seen Morizono?” she asks. It seems to click for Niragi then too. He looks quickly around, then back to her. His hand touches the curve of her shoulder softly. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” he reassures. 

Maki shifts, chews her bottom lip. Her gaze casts across the annex again, there’s been no sign of him. Ann had taken over dealing out the games for the night; she trusts Ann, but she also knows that it’s been a rough day for all of them since Danma’s announcement. Could he have ended up in a bad game? He did his best in spades and clubs, Maki doesn’t know how he’d go in a heart or a diamond. 

“Maybe I should’ve let you go with him,” she says, frowning. 

Last Boss was in a game with a different group from Morizono’s sect, leaving her brother with Jin. She doesn’t trust Jin, not to the same level she does Niragi and Last Boss, he’s not as smart and barely worth the muscle he provides for all the trouble he causes. Then again, Niragi is the only one in the sect she can imagine passing any diamond games with ease. The rest are better in the physical games.

All manner of possibilities crowd her mind. She bounces her pen nervously between her thumb and first finger. Her gaze is thrown forward, willing Morizono to appear. Another two teams return before he does, and when he does —

“Mori!” 

She leaps up at the sight of him, rounding the table quickly, Niragi following quickly behind. Morizono lifts a hand to her shoulder as she meets him halfway, squeezing casually as if nothing is wrong. She frowns, worry creasing across her expression, her eyes locked onto the blood and the barely-scabbed-over scar on his face. His dark eyebrow has been sliced clean through, the wound splits up onto his forehead and down over his cheek. It looks like it almost could’ve taken out his eye. 

“What happened?” she asks, desperate and concerned. 

“Just a fight in a game, it’s fine,” Morizono insists, catching her hand easily as she reaches out. He fits the five of spades card into her palm instead. “But Jin died and I lost my walkie-talkie.” 

She sighs, frowning deeper. She ignores the latter parts of his statement, still looking at the cut. What kind of weapon could’ve caused it? Did she even really want to know? Had she come close to losing him without even knowing it?  

“You’ll go see Ann, right?” 

There’s exhaustion in his eyes, the events of the day clearly weighing on him. 

“It’s fine, Maki.” 

“Go see Ann,” she repeats, adamant. Her gaze softens. “Please.” 

He sighs quietly, “Okay.” His expression hardens as he glances past her to Niragi, “Has everything been going smoothly here?” 

Niragi forces the shock from his face, back to professional as he nods quickly. 

“Everyone’s been handing in all of their cards, we haven’t missed one all night. Makina and Yukimaru have been double-checking everything.” His voice trips slightly on her name, almost calling her by her diminutive. Morizono’s eyes narrow slightly at the error, but Niragi continues unfaltering. “You’re one of the last people we were waiting on, there’s only a few teams left.” 

Morizono nods, looks back to Maki, squeezing her arm again comfortingly. 

“Ann will probably still be in her office,” she says, her tone still insistent. 

She knows it’s not something he cares about, that he’d rather just head to his room and shower and let the wound heal however it will. In truth, there’s probably little Ann can do, but it’ll settle her nerves to know someone had taken a closer look at it, and he knows that so he’ll do it. 

Later, Maki and Niragi head upstairs to her office. She’s taken the card bag from Yukimaru and it hangs from her wrist. As they walk along, she props her open notebook in hand, checking one last time over the cards handed in and who had returned or died on each team. Niragi strolls along at her side, his gaze looking over their surroundings when he’s not glancing sidelong at her. Residents leap quickly out of their way as they pass down the hall, keeping their eyes from meeting Niragi’s. Maki unlocks her office door, pushing it open as she walks in. 

It’s all routine instinct from there. She tosses her notebooks onto her desk and sticks her pens in the pen cup, then turns to the safe. Unlocking it, she pulls the collected sets of cards out and puts them on her desk. Pulling the card bag from her wrist, she sits behind her desk and upturns the bag to dump out the elastic-banded cards. 

Niragi strolls a slow casual circle around the room. He sets his rifle down on the table by the wall, then runs his hand over the back of his neck as he stretches. Maki’s eyes flick towards him, over the angles of his body. When he glances towards her, she smiles lightly at him and taps a banded set of cards on the tabletop. 

“You can go if you want,” she says, “Thank you for tonight. And today.” 

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” he answers easily with a shrug. 

“But after this today, you’re probably …” she trails off. Her brows furrow slightly, she frowns. Sets the deck down. Looks at him, focused. “Niragi, earlier today, you said 'we’re going to take the blame for it'? What did you mean?” 

Niragi sighs, crosses his arms as he leans against the table. He doesn’t meet her eyes. His jaw ticks, his pierced tongue flicks across his mouth. 

“Aguni’s sect, we’re taking the blame for 'punishing the traitors'.” He huffs, a rough agitated sound. “Hatter can’t have blood on his hands, he’s the leader.” It’s spoken as a mimic, something someone else had said. 

The words hits her like a slap, but after a moment, she realises it doesn’t surprise her. Of course Danma wouldn’t take the blame for this, of course he’s going to put it on someone else - on Morizono, on Niragi, on Last Boss. He’ll do anything to keep his hands 'clean', to keep his name untarnished at the cost of her brother, her friends. 

“That’s not fair. He can’t.” 

“He already has - and he wants us to deal with any other traitors.” 

“Oth- he thinks there’s going to be 'others'?” 

Niragi finally looks at her, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion. 

“You think there won’t be?” 

She goes quiet then, her gaze dropping. Is it childish to hope that there won’t be more? That the troubles would end here? Some part of her really did want to believe Danma’s paradise, that this whole thing could actually work out how they planned. This place was supposed to be safe, now it’s starting to crumble apart from the inside, from the top. 

Niragi shifts, “Maybe you’re right and everyone will just fall back into line. It’d certainly be easier for everything to go back how it was.” 

It sounds pitying, like he’s trying to ply her to get her mind off it. She knows he means it as a kindness, but she still feels sick. She feels stupid. She should have seen this coming from the start. This is what this world is, what it has been since they arrived on that first day. Death and hopelessness. 

“Just … you’ll be careful, right?” she says, looking back to him. 

He nods, “And I’ll have Aguni’s back, so don’t worry about that.” 

Chapter Text

It’s not often that Maki is eager about going out to a game, but she needs to get out of here even if only a little while. She hasn’t been able to sleep well. Every flash of a dream had turned into a nightmare, the bloodied scar dragged down her brother’s face and Danma’s bruised hands and a closed door that she knew dead bodies were behind. She’d woken up every other hour, panting and chest heaving and feeling sick. That morning she’d been awake early enough to see the sunrise shining through a parting in her curtains, getting gradually brighter and brighter. 

When she made it to her office by early morning, she checked her notebook for how many visa days she has left. She’s not too low, but low enough that she’d have to start looking at a game soon anyway. A handful of days left, not yet 'x'ed out. She could stand to leave it another few days, but she wants the chance to catch her breath outside of this place. 

That’s how she ends up downstairs in the main annex that evening, watching as the night’s teams are banding together and preparing to leave. She and Ann have picked out a game, one they hadn’t dealt out to another team so Maki can play alone. With her keys looped around her finger, she double-checks that she has her walkie-talkie and her kaiken. She’s left Yukimaru in charge of card collection for the night as she has in the past, trusting that he knows what to do. 

“Are you playing tonight?” 

Maki glances up to see Sumie strolling towards her, a gentle smile on her face. She smiles back, nodding as she hooks the walkie-talkie onto her waistband. 

“Want some company then?” Sumie offers. 

“You sure? Won’t they need you?” she asks, glancing past her to her usual team. Sumie follow her gaze, then shoos her team away. 

“I’m sure they’ll do fine without me for one night. Come on.” 

Side-by-side, they head out to the garage to Maki’s car. Getting in the car, Maki unhooks the car keys from her ring-of-keys and starts the engine. Pulling out of the garage, she feels better already, like a weight’s been lifted off her chest and she can finally take a full breath. 

Unlike with Niragi, she keeps her speed on the slower end, not quickly jetting around the city like she usually would. Sumie shifts in the passenger seat, reaching for the dial of the radio. She frowns to find only static. 

“It’s a shame it doesn’t work,” she complains, sitting back in her seat, “It’d be nice to listen to something other than the music they play at the parties.” 

“Not your style of music?” Maki asks, amused. Sumie smiles, shrugging. 

“Not really.” 

“Maybe we can find a stereo, swing around to a music store.” 

“Aren’t you busy enough?” 

Maki smiles, shrugs back, “Not so busy to not help out a friend.” 

The drive is relaxing, for as short as it is. Their game isn’t that far from the hotel, in the shopping streets of Shinagawa. As they get closer and the game signs more sparse and smaller, Maki pulls the car to the curb and parks it out the front of a shopping building. Sumie looks out her window at the entrance of the place. 

“Have we run through here before?” she asks. 

Maki looks at it. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe some of guys have while gathering resources, but I haven’t,” she replies, then she shrugs, “If they haven’t, I’ll have to send some people over.” 

Taking her keys, she hooks the ring-of-keys onto her belt loop and hops out of the car. Not sure what to make of whatever game they’re walking into, she takes a moment to stretch her legs and loosen up her arms. She takes a calm breath, inhale-exhale, as she waits for Sumie to get out of the car. Locking the car, she rounds the front of it to Sumie’s side before heading towards the building’s entrance. 

The building is brightly lit and, as they walk inside, they start to follow the smaller game signs. Eventually, they come across a group of players waiting around outside a closed-up store. In front of the shop’s closed roller-doors is a table with waiting registration phones and the familiar card printer. Maki glances around to the people and Sumie moves towards the table, taking one phone and passing it back to Maki before taking one for herself. Sumie leans from foot to foot, looking at the roller-doors and then for any sign around the shop that might tell her what it is. 

“A second-hand store?” she says curiously. 

Maki registers in, letting the phone hang from her grip as she joins Sumie in looking at the storefront. She can’t tell much with the doors closed, but it does look to be a used-goods shop. 

“Wonder what kind of game it’s supposed to be,” Maki muses. 

As Sumie sign in, everyone’s phones chime as registration closes. The lock on the door ka-chunks and the players glance warily towards it, all seemingly unwilling to take a step towards it. Taking a steadying breath, Maki reaches for the metal handle and pulls the roller-door open. Glancing back to the other players, she realises she’ll have to be the one to take the first step, all of them watching and waiting. 

Looking through the opened door, she peers around, looking for some kind of trap or someone to jump out at her. When she finds nothing, she takes a tentative step inside. Sumie follows her, and the rest slowly trail in after until they’re all stood inside the store. 

Suddenly, the door rolls closed and the lock slides back into place. There’s a handful of shocked sounds from the group, jolting around to look at the door. One of the other players, a man, lunges for the handle and pulls on it to no avail. The phones chime, echoing around the empty store. 

“Three of clubs. Game, Body of Osiris.” The robotic voice echoes out.

Maki lifts her phone, looking at the screen. The three of clubs card on a black background disappears, giving way to a picture that looks like it was taken in the store. It’s an image of a greenish man-shaped sarcophagus. Maki looks up, glancing around and finds the same sarcophagus laid out on the long counter by the registers. 

“Work together and find all fourteen pieces of the body of Osiris before the time limit is reached. Game complete - and doors will be unlocked - when all pieces are found. Game lost if time reaches zero.” 

As the voice explains, Maki walks towards the counter and the sarcophagus, turning her head from side to side as she looks over it. It’s not overly large, no more than three feet across from carved head to toe. She slides the lid off and finds it empty, but there looks to be indents where something should be laid inside. The pieces of the body, she supposes. 

“Game start.” 

The screen of the phone changes again and she looks at it. 

The image has flipped from the outside of the sarcophagus to the inside, the pieces faded out and outlined where they should be laid. In the corner, there’s a 50-minute timer that begins counting down. Maki’s gaze turns from the phone to the store. It’s large, filled from wall to wall with shelves full of a miscellany of random items. 

“How the hell are we going to find this stuff? This place is a mess!” One of the other players says. 

“There’s no way, we’ll never find them all in under an hour,” another complains. 

Sumie glances towards Maki, whose own gaze shifts to meet her eye. Easily reading the expression on Sumie’s face, Maki sighs quietly. She knows she’ll have to channel her brother, take the lead before the panic fully sets in and they get nothing done. Running around like headless chickens isn’t going to work in their favour, they need strategy. 

“We’re going to break into pairs,” she says, speaking over the others, “Each pair will take an area and search it, shelf to shelf, aisle to aisle. You two,” she says as she points over at a pair of male players, “Take the book aisles over there, any book bigger than an inch, check inside for hidden compartments. Make sure all the books are pushed all the way back in case a piece has been slipped behind. Then check the kitchenware section over there.” The players stare, owl-eyed, “Go!” 

They jolt, then quickly scurry off. 

She looks around again, then looks to another pair, two young girls, “You two, the plush toy aisles, I don’t care if you have to dig them all out and dump them on the ground. Check for any hard parts inside that shouldn’t be there. Check all that electronic stuff too.” 

Her gaze continues along, pointing out the next two, a man and woman, “The clothes and shoes over there. Check every pocket and every shoe, dump it all out, it’s not like we have to clean up afterwards.” 

The two new sets of pairs nod and then hurry off without complaint. 

“Sumie, you’re with me. We’re doing the figure cases, model boxes, and all these collectables. See if anything matches what’s on the phone. If the cases are locked, we break ‘em open,” She trails off at the amusement on Sumie’s face, “What?” 

Sumie shakes her head, giggling, “You really are your brother’s sister.” 

Her mouth twists in a smile, “Come on.” 

They head across to the aisles of small hung-up collectables in little plastic bags. Maki takes one side and Sumie takes the other, starting from opposite ends. Her eyes scan across the hanging bags. If this was just a regular day of shopping, she’d be taking her time, picking through whatever little things she liked. Now, she doesn’t have the luxury of time wasting. She flicks through the small plastic bags, the phone dangling from her fingers. Glancing at the screen, she can’t help herself from looking at the timer. Even while taking a leading role, she can’t be sure that things will go smoothly. 

“Oh! Hey!” Sumie says, yanking a bag off a hook. 

Maki turns to look back up the aisle and Sumie holds the bag up, inside is a shiny white forearm and green hand, matching one of the body parts of the screen. A short laugh escapes her. She crooks her fingers in a motion for Sumie to toss it to her. Sumie swings her arm back and then throws it. Maki catches it effortlessly, then shakes the bag by the ziplocked top, taking a closer look at it. 

“Well, that’s one, thirteen to go,” she says with a smile. 

Twisting on her heel, she heads back to the sarcophagus, Sumie following after her. She stops at the counter and upturns the bag, dropping the hand-and-forearm into her palm. It’s a left hand. She lines it up and presses it into the indent in the sarcophagus. It’s a perfect fit. As she pushes it in, the piece gets filled in on the phone’s image. 

There’s a sound of hurried, approaching footsteps and Maki turns to see the two men coming over from the book aisles. One holds up another piece, a right calf. 

“You were right, there was a book with a secret compartment. The whole middle was carved out,” one of the men says, holding the piece out to her. 

Maki nods, “Good work.” 

Turning back to the sarcophagus, she sets the leg piece in. 

With that, she and Sumie head back towards the collectables. 

“Do you think there’ll be more in the bags?” Sumie asks. 

“I’m not sure. You have another quick look, I’ll start on the model kits,” she proposes. Sumie nods. 

Parting, Sumie walks back into the aisle and Maki heads to the wall of model kits. She passes by the cases of figures and figurines, letting her gaze quickly travel across them as she passes. There’s anime figurines and model robots and some ceramic-looking statues, but nothing that immediately jumps out to her. Starting at one end, she starts to move down the rows of kits, running her finger along the cardboard boxes. 

There’s too many for her to search everything. She runs through how she can possibly narrow it down. Her mind tracks through what she knew about Osiris and what would be here on the rows. Egyptian models? Death characters? She keeps moving along, chewing on her bottom lip. Every so often, she pulls a box off the shelf and checks inside, disappointed when she finds nothing before closing it and shoving it back into place. 

The two young girls hurry down the aisle towards her, wielding a limp plush bear towards her. 

“There’s something hard in the arm and it looks like it’s been sewn up,” one says, holding it up and showing Maki the arm. 

“But we can’t rip it - do you think there’s scissors around?” The other finishes. 

Maki takes the bear, unsheathing her kaiken from her pocket. She feels over the arm, finding something stiff between the stuffing. Pressing the sharp tip to the edge of the line of sewn-up stitches, she rips through it and works the hard thing out through the new hole. Another forearm and hand. She passes both back to the girls. 

“Great work, go put it in the sarcophagus,” she says, “And check behind the counter for scissors while you’re there.” 

The two girls nod quickly. One takes the forearm-and-hand piece and the other takes the bear, then they both hurry off. Sliding her knife back away, she pulls her phone from her pocket and checks the Osiris image again. A left foot piece had been placed in and, after a few more seconds, the next arm piece goes in. That’s four, only ten pieces left. 

Twisting back towards the kits, she takes a breath and continues moving down the rows. As more minutes pass, her nerves heighten. She hasn’t found any pieces yet, it feels like she’s not pulling her weight while everyone is. Her eyes suddenly pause on a pen scribble on the lower corner of a box on the top shelf. She squints, looking closer at it. 

A djed pillar? 

Pushing onto her toes, she stretches up to reach the box, wiggling it carefully out from beneath the rest of the kit boxes. It’s light and something jostles around inside it as she pulls it down and drops back onto flat-feet. Tugging the lid off, she opens the box to find a carved green head in the box. 

“Hello Osiris,” she says with a relieved sigh. 

Twisting, she hurries back to the counter. She fits the head into place. Two more players jog up, one passes her half a chest and the other passes her a left thigh. Maki smiles as she shoves the pieces in. 

“Okay, that’s half the pieces down,” she says, pulling her phone out to check the timer, “And we’re down to thirty minutes. Let’s keep moving.” 

The three rush off again. Maki heads back to the kits, looking out for more scribbles. Sumie finds the other half of the chest in another collectable bag, the two men find a bicep in a small tea pot, the woman from the clothes-and-shoes second find the missing foot in a boot, and one of the teen girls finds the other thigh in a case of old USB drives. 

With 3 pieces left, there’s a little under 15 minutes. 

Stood up on her toes, Maki wrestles the missing bicep out of the mouth of a crocodile statue. Bouncing it in her palm, she quickly makes her way back over to the counter and sets the piece inside. She looks over the pieces they’ve already found, runs her fingertip over the profile of the head. Only 2 left now. And they’ve got enough time, she tells herself. Turning around, she heads back to where Sumie is looking over the glass cases. 

Sumie is frowning, sidestepping her way along. 

“I haven’t found anything in here. That’s weird, isn’t it? We’ve found pieces in every other section,” she mumbles. 

“Maybe we’re just missing something, or the last pieces are just somewhere else,” Maki replies, trying to come off sounding confident. Her gaze tracks across everything inside the cases - statues, figures, figurines - hoping for something to jump out at her. Nothing does. 

She pulls her phone out, checking the timer and the Osiris image. There’s only one piece missing from the image now. Taking a step back to look down the aisle towards the counter, she sees the other players have gathered there. Maki frowns, tugging on Sumie’s arm to get her to follow. 

“There’s still one piece missing,” the man from the clothes pair grumbles. 

Maki looks into the sarcophagus. It’s the stomach and crotch that’s missing. Her frown deepens, but she takes a breath and looks back around the store, thinking. 

“We’re running out of time,” one of the book section men says, panic edging into his voice. “What are we going to do? Where else can we look?” 

“We pulled all the toys off the shelf, so there’s nothing there,” one of the young girls says. The other girl nods. 

Sumie looks to Maki, “Could it be something to do with Osiris? What do you know about the myth?” 

Maki wracks her brain. Primeval god-king of Egypt, husband of Isis, brother of Set, god of fertility and the afterlife and resurrection. She turns her mind towards the myth, Set’s rage and Isis’ search and the eventual birth of Horus. Something clicks. 

“Horus,” she murmurs. 

Sumie’s brows scrunch, “What?” 

“Osiris was resurrected to conceive a son with Isis.” 

“So we’re looking for a bird?” 

“Or a woman.” 

Hurrying away, Maki heads for the glass cases. The rest of the players follow after her, confused. Her gaze flicks across the cases, looking for something she’d seen earlier when she’d passed them. When she comes to a quick stop, Sumie almost runs into her back. Maki jams a finger against the glass. Within the case is a bunch of statues, but one stands out towards the back, hidden away, a clay statue of a pregnant woman, a falcon perched on her shoulder. 

The case is locked, she kneels down to check the lock. It’s a sliding lock. 

“Do we need a key?” Sumie asks, leaning over to look. 

“No, we don’t have the time to look around for them,” Maki says as she stands back up. 

Turning on her side, she steadies one hand on the top of the short case and lifts her foot, bringing down hard on the part of the lock that sticks out. It bends slightly but doesn’t break, so she does it again. The third stomp finally snaps the mechanism and it slips. A short victorious huff escapes her. Pushing the lock out of the way, she yanks the glass sliding open and reaches into the case, pushing the other statues out of the way. 

The clay statue is lighter than she expects as she picks it up. Turning it slightly, she feels something shift inside. Flipping it upside down, she can’t see a plug or anything. She glances to the other players. 

“Everyone take a step back,” she says, “And maybe shield your eyes.” 

Giving them a chance to move, she waits then holds the statue up above her head. She takes a breath. If there’s not a piece inside, she doesn’t know where else to look and they’re running out of time. Bringing the statue down hard, she throws it to the ground. The statue shatters on impact, pieces of thin clay exploding across the floor and around their feet. She looks down at the mess. Laid between the shards is the stomach-and-crotch piece. 

“That’s it. There’s the last piece,” she says, stunned. 

She lunges for it, scooping up the piece and hurrying back towards the counter. The panic has left the air, tension turning into relief and triumphant excitement. The group follows after her, gleeful as they way for her to set the piece into the sarcophagus. Lining it up, she presses it into place. 

The phones chime, which is quickly followed by shouts of relieved victory from the players. 

“Game complete,” the robotic voice says. 

A small drawer pops out the side of the sarcophagus, inside lays a simple key, no doubt for the roller door. Maki picks it out as Sumie swings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a half-hug. With a smile, they walk towards the doors and Maki unlocks it, pulling it open. On the table outside, the printer is already chugging along. One by one, they leave the store and pick up their visa tickets and cards. 

Maki’s comes out last and she plucks it up, turning the three-of-clubs side to face her. It’s not a new card, just another to add to the deck of a dozen other clubs cards. She turns it between her fingers. Even after so long, she still doesn’t understand, it’s still just a card. Looking at it reminds her where she has to return to. The Beach and the rules and those that were killed over these stupid bits of paper. 

Sighing quietly, she tucks the card away. She allows the others to walk away, unable to make herself invite any of them. How could she possibly after that new rule had been implemented? How could she invite people somewhere they could be killed just because of mistakes, whether they’re made purposely or on accident? She can’t stop anyone else from inviting in people in, and she’s sure more will come, but she can’t do it herself. 

“Where did you learn so much about Egyptian gods?” Sumie asks as they walk back to the car. A small smile draws to Maki’s face. 

“I just read a lot of books,” she replies with a shrug.

Sumie balks a little. 

“And you remember it all?” 

She laughs lightly, “Well, maybe not all of it, I can’t quote every single word by memory, but I remember the facts.” 

“Maybe you should be playing more diamond games.” 

“Ah, I’m not good at all those brainy games. All my little fun facts aren’t going to help me solve math problems. I’ll stick to playing clubs games with you.” 

She flashes a smile at Sumie, who grins back and interlocks their arms. 

It’s been two days since his last game. Tonight, Morizono retreats to his room, exhausted and aching. The cut over his eye throbs distractingly. One of his pillows had been stained bloody from where the wound had re-opened during the previous night. As he’d thought, there had been little Ann could do. She’d tidied him up, offered pain pills that he’d declined, and told him to keep it clean until it was healed. 

As she’d thrown away bloodied wipes, Ann had brought up the strangeness of time in this reality, how injuries seemed to heal quicker than they did in the real world. She mentioned the wound on the fleshy side of Maki’s hand, turned into a scar, the stitch removed days earlier than it should’ve been. His jaw had tightened at the memory. All that blood, the knowledge that his sister had been forced to kill, to protect herself, to protect that other girl. 

It’s his job to protect Maki and, again and again, he’s been messing it up, especially here in this world. 

Now he stands in his bathroom, looking at the scabbed-over cut, when he hears an unfamiliar knock on his room door. He sighs, steels himself into his usual stern visage, and moves to open the door. In the hallway, one of his sect members stands there. A younger fellow - Wakita, Morizono thinks his name is. Maki is better with names, Morizono remembers faces. In the doorway, he stands, waiting for whatever the guy wants. Wakita scrambles, stands a little straighter, his gaze flicking aside to look past Morizono’s head instead of right at him. 

“Hatter’s found another traitor. Niragi and Last Boss are out the back with him, waiting for you,” he says, his voice a little shaky. 

A stone drops in Morizono’s gut. He’d been hoping nothing more would happen, that they could all forget about it and get back on track with Danma’s idea. Another memory flashes to the forefront of his thoughts; the blood on Danma’s hands and clothes, the dead bodies in that room, the clinch of horror in his chest at the sight. Morizono had seen Danma fight, but never kill, never anything close to what he’d done then. 

“Does anyone else know about this?” Morizono asks gruffly. 

Wakita shakes his head quickly. Pauses. Thinks. Shakes his head 'no' again. 

“Not that I know of.” 

With that, Morizono steps out of his room, closes his door firmly behind him. The younger guy hurries away down the hall, his head ducked to make absolutely sure he doesn’t meet Morizono’s gaze. He’s squirrelly, not as much a danger like many of the other sect members are, but a handful of women had reported him as being 'creepy' and Morizono had decided it was best to keep a closer eye on him. Now Morizono wonders if Wakita will end up with his head on the chopping block too. 

How is Danma defining 'traitor' now? It can’t be that another person was stealing cards. In two days, nothing he’s said to Danma has been able to sway him or convince him or settle him. The entire time, ever since he’d found him in that room with the freshly dead, there has been something in Danma’s eyes, something Morizono’s never seen there before. He’s starting to think it’s this place, being here, lording over the Beach, it’s doing something to Danma and not for the better. 

He walks out the back doors of the hotel, towards where the large residential dumpsters were. The cut throbs painfully, and the feeling worsened as he steps out into the night breeze. It’s dark out the back of the hotel, the lights dim around here in comparison to the side with the every-night pool party. Further from the hotel, he can see Niragi and Last Boss standing by the edge of the dumpster, guarding a kneeling man. 

As Morizono gets closer, he realises he recognises the man. Kamada, one of the more decent members at the Beach. Taking a breath, Morizono walks over to the trio. Niragi looks up towards him, but Last Boss’ gaze stays on Kamada. Rifle hanging from one hand, Niragi shifts his weight, taking a step back to give Morizono space in between him and Last Boss. 

“What did he do?” Morizono asks Niragi, who shrugs. 

“Hatter didn’t really say. Just called him a 'traitor'.” 

“He was stealing,” Last Boss rasps. 

Morizono glances his way, then looks to Kamada. The guy looks scared and twitchy, his expression is pinched, his eyes are red-rimmed and teary. He’s only probably a couple of years younger than Morizono, but he looks much more so now, like a kid. 

“Kamada, what did you do?” He shouldn’t ask. He should just get it over with. 

“I was just trying to leave, this isn’t what I signed up for,” Kamada explains. 

“And the stealing?” 

Kamada shifts, “We’ve practically raided the entire city. I’d die out there without food and water, I didn’t think anyone would notice if I just took some of it. This whole thing is insane, Aguni, just let me go. None of you will ever see me again, I swear.” 

His words turn into babbled begging and sobs. Morizono reaches, pulls his gun from his waistband. He doesn’t have a choice. He doesn’t know what Danma would do if he found out Morizono had let Kamada go. Kamada sees the gun, sobs loudly, shakes his head. 

“Aguni, man, please, don’t do this.” 

Morizono stares down at the man. The gun is heavy in his hand. He knows what he has to do, what Danma’s told him to do - but looking at Kamada now, crying, on his knees, it makes his stomach turn. He forces his hand to move, to lift the gun and aim between the man’s eyes. Tears roll down Kamada’s face. 

Another beg dies on his lips as a bullet cracks through the side of his skull. 

His body slumps to the ground. Blood puddles onto the concrete. 

Morizono’s finger rests on the un-pulled trigger of his gun. He stares down at Kamada, the blood pooling around his head. 

At his side, Niragi shifts his recently-fired rifle, sighing quietly through his nose. His finger slides off the trigger, the muzzle points skyward as he leans the gun against his shoulder. Morizono’s gaze snaps towards him, but Niragi’s expression is unreadable. His ink-dark eyes flick to meet Morizono’s, then he looks away again, staring towards the unlit city. Morizono watches the line of his jaw twitch slightly as his teeth set and clench. 

Wordless, Last Boss moves around Morizono, rolling Kamada’s body into the waiting dumpster. 

Morizono, sighs, breathes in, steels himself again. He puts his gun away into the back of his waistband and looks to Niragi. 

“Make sure the stolen stuff has been returned to storage and get the word out that the dumpsters are off-limits to residents now. I’ll tell Danma this has been dealt with.” His gaze turns to the dumpster, the bodies littering the bottom between the rubbish. There’s no respect in it, it’s sickening. His jaw tightens in a grimace. “And find something to cover this up with. A tarp.” 

Niragi and Last Boss nod obediently, and Morizono turns to leave. Kamada’s face sticks in his mind, his begs echoing and bouncing around his skull. He shoves it down, drowning it all until it finally goes silent. 

Chapter Text

“You sure you’ll be able to manage tonight?” Chishiya asks as they walk along down the street. Defensively, Yamato’s hand airs over his injured shoulder. There’s a pinch of pain that he shrugs off. 

“One of us has to be able to charm those boarders, so unless you want to do it, I’m coming along with you,” he replies easily. 

Chishiya is good once he has the 'in' with people, his initial approach is where he’s lacking; he comes off stilted, vaguely awkward in his attempts to find common ground. He’s too impersonal. That’s where Yamato comes in. It’s frustrating in a way, since he can see clearly that Chishiya has that useful manipulative nature, if he only knew how to wield it the way Yamato does; but Chishiya doesn’t care for it, he doesn’t care to try understanding people or how useful it can be to do so. 

Walking along down the dark streets, in the shadows, Yamato turns his gaze towards the bright signs guiding their way. Anybody else might be more curious about the games, this world, why they were all here - he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting home, surviving. And if he can get Chishiya home too, then that’s just a bonus. 

He turns his gaze back ahead. They’ve been following a group they’d spied hopping out of a working car. As interesting as it is that they’d gotten at least one car working, what is more notable is that they had the bracelets.

The boarders are a group of women this time. The apparent leader is tall and pretty, clearly confident in herself if that bikini-top-and-jeans outfit is anything to go by. That stands to cause problems. Confident women didn’t fall for his little flirting tricks so easily. A woman like that called for a different set of skills. Yamato runs through ideas as he walks, flipping through them like a deck of cards, considering what play he needed. He watches the woman, notes the close attention she pays to her fellow boarders. 

Like a lightbulb, it clicks to him. The wounded bird, it’s exactly the kind of thing a woman like that would fall for and Yamato is in just the kind of situation to fully sell it. 

Still hidden in the shadows of the street, he subtly reaches into the neckline of his shirt and across to his shoulder, runs his fingers over the tape holding the gauze down. He pulls it off, quickly stuffing the medical padding into his pocket. Rolling his shoulder, he feels the tautness of the scab. A small smile pulls at his mouth - oh yes, this’ll work just fine. 

“What are you doing?” Chishiya asks quietly at his side, his eyes narrowed in concern towards his shoulder. Yamato flashes a wider smile at him. 

“I’ve got a plan,” he muses, reaching across and tapping a curled finger under Chishiya’s sharp chin, then hooking his arm around Chishiya’s shoulders to pull him towards the building. 

It’s a large building, looking like a renovated warehouse. The entrance is a rolled-up garage-style door and Yamato pulls Chishiya in through the door. There’s plenty of other players already standing around. The large ground floor has been cut in half with a mock-up wall of heavy black plastic curtain blocking off the rest of the room. The four boarders are at the table, gathering phones for themselves. His eyes drag over the tall woman, her high ponytail of decorated dreads, jewellery hanging from her neck and both wrists. 

Detangling from Chishiya, Yamato follows him towards the table to pick up the last two phones from the table, leaving it bare with the exception of the printer. They register in and the phones immediately chime after the loading symbol disappears. The monotone voice crackles from the phone speakers, echoing tinnily around the warehouse. 

“Difficulty, Ace of Clubs. Game, Structure.” The curtain wall drops, revealing a square platform in the middle of the room and a set of large, wooden polycubes of mixed shapes. “Players will be separated into two teams. Taking turns, teams will flip score tiles and use corresponding polycubes to build a tower. If the tower falls during a turn, that team loses points. Game won by whichever team holds the most points at the end.” 

The screen of the phones light up, splitting them into red and blue teams. Yamato nudges Chishiya’s arm, then nods towards the tall boarder whose screen is also shining blue like their’s. As the players split into their teams, Yamato and Chishiya cross towards the set of boarders. Only one of the four has been put onto the red team and she moves reluctantly away. The tall woman greets them with a quick flash of a smile, the other boarders don’t meet their eyes, focused instead on the piles of large polycubes. 

“Assign a player to flip score tiles,” the voice chimes from the phones. 

A light shines down on a second higher-raised platform and the table sitting up there. It’d be a good vantage point to see the full game. In his periphery, Yamato can see Chishiya eyeing him and his injured shoulder. His mouth starts to move and Yamato cuts in before he can say anything. 

“It should be Chishiya,” Yamato nominates, smiling easily. He sets a hand on Chishiya’s shoulder. “He’s smart, great at all those diamond games. If we get him up there, he can tell us where to put the pieces. It’s a definite win.” 

The woman looks to Chishiya, amused, quirking a brow slightly. 

“Chishiya, huh? I’m Kuina,” she holds her hand out, which Chishiya shakes quickly before tucking his hands back in his jacket pockets. Kuina bobs her head in Yamato’s direction, “You as confident as he is?” 

“It’s an ace, I don’t imagine it’ll be difficult,” Chishiya answers plainly. 

Kuina snort a short laugh, “Okay, if you say so. Get up there then.” 

He nods, then moves to step around Yamato and climbs up the steps to the raised platform. After a few minutes, one of the other team’s players steps up to join him and the game begins. On the table, a domed light flickers between red and blue before finally settling on blue. Chishiya looks at the small wooden square score tiles scattered across the tabletop. His gaze turns to polycubes. There’s various amounts of each type and they’re all built from wooden cubes, ranging from a single cube up to shapes made of five cubes. The scoring tiles must range the same way. 

He ponders over the tiles; filling the lower platform’s base would make the tower more stable, so a higher number would be better, but there’s no way to tell what tiles have what number. Running his fingertips along the tiles, he picks one at random and flips it. A '3' is written on the other side. He moves across to the railing, looking towards his waiting team. 

“It’s a three, get a corner piece,” he calls down to them. 

Kuina throws him a thumbs-up and orders the rest of the team along to pick one of the large wooden shapes. Yamato grunts quietly as he helps lift the piece. It’s not overly heavy - though it’s not light either - but lifting it pulls on the taut scabbing of his bullet graze, making electric pain shoot down his bicep and across his shoulder. He tells himself it’s necessary, that it’s part of his own plan. 

They set the piece down into the upper left corner of the grounded 3-by-3 platform, then move aside to let the other team play their turn. As they wait, Yamato glances sidelong at Kuina. She’s the one he needs to convince, the rest of her team are fodder. Luckily, Kuina seems nice enough, it shouldn’t be too hard so long as Yamato and Chishiya can prove themselves useful. They just need to win this game. 

The other team sets an awkward four-cube s-piece into the plaform. Chishiya looks down at the open spaces. Two single cubes would fill out the bottom of the plaform for a stable base, but such a low number would be a useless pull score-wise. He picks another tile, flips it, finds a '4'. Stepping back to the railing, he looks over the four-piece polycubes, deciding the best course of action. 

“Get an s-shaped four piece, stand it in the free left corner,” he points out. 

Kuina nods and the team moves, hauling the piece along and fitting it into the lower left space. As they move aside, the red team sets a straight two-piece standing up in the middle of the platform. Chishiya narrows his eyes slightly at the other player on the platform, both knowing the two-piece could’ve fit into the last base corner. 

They continue playing on. They both pull '2's for the third round. Chishiya fills in the last corner, the red team lays their’s on top of the left side of the blue team’s 3-corner. Chishiya pulls a '1' for the fourth round. With a grimace, he puts it on the middle spot of the top row. Red team flips a '3' and stands it on two blocks in the bottom left corner. Again, Chishiya frowns at the choice and the new thinness of the tower. 

He picks another tile and flips it. A '5'. The only '5' piece. Moving, he looks over the railing to the polycube, a four cube t-shaped base with a single cube set atop the middle piece. It would’ve been more useful earlier, as a base piece. Now there’s no choice but to put it on the very top. His mouth thins, it’s risky; there’ll be overhang with nothing supporting at least one of the blocks, and with the weight of it and the current thin size, there’s the possibility of it toppling. At the very least, it situates their team firmly in the lead with their score, all it takes now is making sure the tower doesn’t fall. 

“It’s the five, be careful putting it up,” Chishiya calls down to his team. 

“On the top?” Kuina calls back, incredulous after looking at the thin column of the structure. 

“It won’t fit anywhere else,” he insists unhesitatingly. 

Kuina frowns, huffs, then waves the rest of the group around to the five-piece. The two younger boarders pull ladders from near the wall, setting them up on either end - north and south - of the platform. Yamato climbs up the north side, Kuina on the south ladder, then the other two help pass up the polycube. The two on the ground steady it on either side, their arms stretched up. He and Kuina hover the piece as they line it up. His wounded shoulder wails under the weight of it. Wriggling his fingers under the cube, he breathes out lowly, trying to force the pain away. 

“Okay, let’s put it down,” Kuina calls from the other side. 

“Okay,” Yamato replies, trying to keep the shake of pain out of his voice. 

Slowly they lower it. Beneath Yamato’s end cube, there is nothing but air. The other three blocks of the polycube t-base set down atop the already built tower. Kuina lets go, holds her hands up to wait and see. After a beat, holding his breath, Yamato releases his end too. The tower shudders slightly, then settles to stillness. It’s steady. The blue team breathe out collective sighs of relief, and Yamato and Kuina climb down the ladders. Kuina flashes a grin his way, then turns and throws a thumbs-up to Chishiya. Red team draws a '1', placing it uselessly - and safely - into the lower right corner. 

Chishiya flips a '2' next and doesn’t even have to direct the team as they immediately fit it into the open space beneath the hanging end of the 5-piece.  The red team turns a '3' and props it into the right side. Pausing, Chishiya looks at the remaining tiles, there’s only a dwindling few left and the teams are neck-and-neck at 17 and 15. He glances over the railing at the remaining polycubes: three single cubes and an l-shaped four. 

His eyes turn to the tiles again. 

He has to pull the '4', it’s the only way they win. If he doesn’t flip it and his red opponent does, then the blue team has no chance of catching up. They’ll lose by a single point. It’s another game where he’s cutting it close, Chishiya realises, and he’s just relieved that this time he isn’t facing some gun-toting horse-head tagger. Though this would be a boring way to die, he thinks. 

Reaching out, he picks a tile and turns it before he can waste any more time overthinking it. 

A '1'. 

He grinds his teeth. Over the railing, he meets Yamato’s hopeful gaze and shakes his head minutely. Yamato’s expression creases in disbelief. Chishiya’s hands close into fists hidden in his pockets. 

“It’s a one, put it in the upper left corner,” he calls down, his self-annoyance evident. 

He sees Kuina sigh, her mouth moving to grumble something he can only imagine is a jab at him. Still, she moves, picks up the one and sets it onto the free left corner. Turning back to the table, he feels his heart thump in his chest. The only chance they have of winning now is if the red team also flips a '1' or if they fumble in putting up the '4' onto the tower. 

The red player appears to go through the same thoughts Chishiya had. He stands, stock-still, staring at the remaining three tiles. They’re all completely identical. Chishiya can see a bead of sweat slide down the guy’s temple, his adam’s apple bounces as he swallows thickly. A minute passes, then a second minute stretches on towards a third. The air is thick with tension. From the ground, he can hear people shuffling, shoe soles against concrete, no doubt anxious due to the long wait. 

Finally, the red player reaches for a tile, reconsiders, flips a different one. 

Another '1'. 

“Fuck,” the guy says under his breath, then calls down to his team, “It’s a one!” 

There’s a responding echo of groans from his side and sighed relief from the blue side. One of the red players walks across, scoops up a single cube and drops it onto the upper right corner. The tower shakes for a moment, then resettles. The player blinks, surprised, grimacing awkwardly. 

“Be careful,” the player beside Chishiya snaps. 

Moving back to the table, Chishiya looks down at the two remaining tiles. One is a '4', the other is a '1'. One is a win, the other is a death sentence. This is why he hates games of chance. It’s all luck, there’s no rhyme or reason to it, there’s nothing he can deduce to ensure a win. It’s a coin-toss. He stares at the tiles. Even if he turns the '4', they need to be able to get it up onto the top of the tower without it falling. It’s already shaky. 

Before he can lose his nerves, he picks a tile and turns it in his palm in a quick motion. He takes a breath, looks down. 

The '4'. 

Relief ebbs through him, a soothing wave. He sets the '4' amongst his other tiles. A small smile pulls to his mouth as he leans on the railing. Yamato looks up at him, notes the smirk, grins back. Kuina looks between them. 

“It’s the four?” she calls. He nods the affirmative. 

“Fit it on the top, left side,” he replies. 

The tension hasn’t fully left the air. They move the ladders back across, careful as they set them then Yamato and Kuina climb up. The other two lift the 4-piece up to them. The single-piece end almost slips out of Yamato’s grip, his injured shoulder dropping under the weight. He quickly attempts to readjust, hissing through his teeth. Kuina glances across to him, frowns. 

“You okay?” she asks. 

“Yeah, just … lost my grip a little,” Yamato replies. 

Kuina’s gaze glances towards his shoulder. Yamato doesn’t need to look to know what she’s seeing. There’s blood starting to bloom a red stain into the shoulder of his shirt, just as he’d planned. He keeps a steady grip on the polycube, but drops his injured shoulder a little, playing up the act of putting on a brave face. They line up the polycube onto the top and carefully lay it down. After a beat, they both slowly remove their hands. The tower stands unmoving. 

They hop down off the ladders and Kuina high-fives her fellow boarders. On the other side of the tower, the blue team stares grimly at the tower and the single remaining cube. Without even waiting for the player by Chishiya to flip the last tile, one moves to pick up the cube and stretches to set it onto the upper right corner of the tower. The tower shifts a little, but nothing falls. 

Around the room, phones chime, announcing the end of the game. 

“Congratulations! Team Blue wins with twenty-two points.” 

Without another word, there’s flashes of red lasers and the red team’s players all drop to the ground, dead. Chishiya glances at his opponent, dead and glassy-eyed and lying limp on the floor of the platform, then he turns and walks down the steps to join the rest of the surviving players at the whirring printer. Yamato smiles his way, but Chishiya frowns at the sight of his bleeding shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” Kuina asks, motioning to the growing bloody spot. 

Finally, Yamato looks to his shoulder and reaches a hand to it. 

“Oh. It’s fine,” he replies, but his face is grim, his dark eyes pained and fluttery. 

Immediately, Chishiya realises the play. 

“He got shot in our last game,” Chishiya explains.

“Well, we’ve got medical supplies back where we’re staying if you two are interested in coming along with us,” Kuina offers as she plucks up her card and visa ticket, “It’s the least I can do since you helped us win.” 

Chishiya and Yamato subtly meet each other eyes. 

“Thank you,” Chishiya says. 

They leave the game arena, heading down the street with Kuina in the lead. The two other boarders follow closely behind her, they look young, teenagers maybe. 'Asahi' and 'Momoka', Yamato had heard them refer to each other as. Both were quiet, whispering only to each other or Kuina and barely even looking at Chishiya or Yamato. They soon reach a car, parked a short distance away from the game’s building. 

“You guys have a working car?” Yamato asks, feigning ignorance, his voice tinged with pretend-surprise. Kuina smiles. 

“Yep, we’ve got a bunch actually,” she replies. 

“At this place you’re staying?” Yamato says, moving towards the passenger side. “Where is it?” 

“It’s this place they call the Beach, over in Setagaya City by the river,” Kuina explains as she unlocks the car and hops in the driver’s seat. Momoka and Asahi tuck in beside each other behind Kuina’s seat in the back, and Chishiya takes the seat behind Yamato. 

Chishiya wracks his mind. Is there a beach in Setagaya? 

Fortunately, Yamato speaks up for him. 

“The 'Beach'?” he questions. 

“Well, it’s not an actual beach,” Kuina continues as she starts driving, “It’s a hotel, it was called the 'Seaside Paradise' or something.” 

'Paradise', Chishiya notes, remembering the message on the taxi radio. 'The paradise known as the beach'. He frowns to himself, silently frustrated that he missed something so obvious. 'Paradise' wasn’t simply a descriptor, it was a hint, a guiding point in the direction of 'Seaside Paradise'. 

They drive along, Kuina and Yamato casually talking in the front, and Chishiya watches the city blur by out the window. Eventually, a glowing building rises in the distance, the only point of light in the dark city. Yamato looks towards it, his eyes wide, the bright lights glancing off his dark irises. He can see the flash of coloured neon lights and hear the muffled thrum of music as they get close; looking closer, he sees the movement of a crowd of people gathered around the building. His mouth opens around a small stunned 'wow'. 

Kuina pulls the car into a mostly-filled garage, quickly finding a parking space to swing the car into, turning the engine off before hopping out. Momoka and Asahi hurry off towards the entrance while Kuina waits for Yamato and Chishiya. She waves for them to follow after her. 

As they walk into the building, they’re greeted by loud music and bright lights and throngs of swimwear-clad people. The difference from the dark silent city is dizzying, almost throwing Yamato off balance as he walks in. Kuina leads them into a foyer area. Across the room by the large open double-doors is a seating area, tall plants in large pots and short-legged dark wood tables are interspersed between couches and armchairs. As they walk, Chishiya notices Kuina’s head is on a swivel, searching. 

“Are you looking for someone?” he asks. Kuina looks back at him. 

“Well, I invited you, but I’m not actually in charge of if you’ll be allowed to stay,” she confesses. 

“Who is?” Yamato asks. 

“The guy that started this place. He calls himself,” she cuts herself off as she spots someone strolling towards the doors, “Hatter!” 

The guy turns upon hearing the shout, his robe swishing around him. He has a pair of dark sunglasses propped atop his head and a pretty, bikini-wearing girl on his arm. His gaze sets on Kuina, then towards Yamato and Chishiya. A charming smile appears on his face and he approaches with his arms thrown wide in greeting, the woman left behind. 

Yamato glances over the guy, he’s shirtless beneath the robe and wearing board shorts. He’s lean, but muscular. There’s something in his eyes that gives Yamato a bad feeling. 

“What do we have here? Some new people looking to join the Beach?” he says jovially as he reaches them. 

“This is Chishiya and Yamato,” Kuina introduces, “They helped us in the game tonight.” 

“Well the Beach welcomes everyone. There’s just three rules you’ll need to follow.” He pauses, clearly for dramatic effect. “One, on Beach property, swimwear must be worn at all times.” He motions to himself, his continued statements sound rehearsed, “Clothing reflects attitude, and the Beach is a paradise where you can live life to the fullest, so dress for the occasion! Two, all cards belong to the Beach and must be handed in.” 

“Why?” Chishiya asks.

Hatter looks at him, only the slightest dark flicker of something unreadable before he smiles again. 

“Curious, aren’t you? The cards, you see, are the answer. The question being: 'How do we get home?'” Chishiya and Yamato stare unconvinced. “You see, I have on good authority that collecting a full set of the cards will allow one player to return home.” 

“Only one?” Yamato asks, frowning. 

Hatter’s mouth downturns solemnly. 

“Yes, unfortunately only one.” Hatter quickly bounces back, another flash of a too-wide grin, “Hence our ranking system! So long as everyone at the Beach continues to hand in their cards, then we’ll be able to gather many full decks and soon everyone will be back home.” 

“What’s the third rule?” Chishiya asks. 

“Ah yes, the final rule.” Something dark flickers in Hatter’s eyes again. “Death to all traitors.” 

Yamato freezes slightly. His eyes flick towards Chishiya, his already frowning mouth slipping into something more tense. This wasn’t part of the plan, it wasn’t even conceived as a possibility. Chishiya, meanwhile, keeps a calm face. 

“Is that all?” Chishiya asks simply. Hatter’s smile returns. 

“Yes. That’s all. Three rules. Welcome to the Beach, both of you,” he smiles towards Yamato then, who somehow manages to return it with a thin smile of his own. “Go talk with Makina. She’ll take your names and your cards and explain anything else you need to know. I think she’s returned up to her office by now.” He says it offhandedly, seeming more than happy to palm them off to someone else to deal with. 

Conversation apparently over, Hatter turns and walks off towards the doors, his robe trailing behind him. Yamato breathes a quiet sigh of relief at his departure. Kuina clears her throat, smiles - though it’s tinged slightly with awkwardness - and she motions with her hand for them to follow. 

Chapter Text

The trio head into an elevator and go up eight floors. Chishiya glances around, impressed by the fact that somehow, and at some point, they’d managed to get electricity working here. The place seemed to be running smoothly. Surely that couldn’t be all Hatter; he may have been the leader, but Chishiya hadn’t seen him as someone who has the capabilities to do all this. 

Beside him, Yamato shifts, looking over him towards Kuina. 

“I’ll take you to get your shoulder fixed up after we see Makina,” Kuina says. 

“You didn’t tell us your 'leader' is nuts,” Yamato replies, his tone sharp. 

“He’s not nuts, he’s just … serious about the cards,” Kuina attempts, sounding unconvinced herself. Her gaze shifts nervously around, “The 'traitors' rule is new, it wasn’t like this before. This place … it’s not so bad if you just hand in your cards. It’s better than being out there with no food, no power.” 

The trio step out of the elevator into a long empty hall. There’s no people milling around up here like there is on the ground floor. Kuina leads them down the hall to a door that swings open as they approach. A man steps out of it - dark hair, dark clothes, piercings - and he glances briefly towards them. Chishiya’s head tilts, curious as his eyes flick over him. The guy huffs at them with a shake of his head, adjusts a rifle of his shoulder, then walks off down the hall towards the elevator. Yamato’s gaze follows after him. 

“Who’s that guy?” he asks, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. 

“Niragi,” Kuina says with a grimace, “Best to just keep out of his way.” 

She turns back, knocks on the doorjamb, and then walks into the office with Chishiya and Yamato following. The office is tidy, minutely decorated but clearly lived-in for some time. Across the room, a woman - the apparent 'Makina', Chishiya supposes - sits behind a desk. She sits up a little straighter as they walk in and quickly sweeps something into a desk drawer before Chishiya can make note of what it is. 

A polite smile fixes on her mouth, but it doesn’t quite meet her tired eyes. 

“Kuina,” she greets, “Momoka and Asahi told me you’d brought some new people. Sorry to have you come all the way up here, I’ve just been busy tonight.” 

“This is Chishiya and Yamato,” Kuina introduces again, pulling her own ace card out of her pocket to pass to Maki. After Maki takes it, she opens her desk drawer again to pull a slightly-worn notebook out, flipping it open on her desk. As she does, Kuina motion for them to step up. They do. 

Chishiya looks closer around this side of the room. Behind Maki, there’s a group of small penguin figurines decorating a shelf. There’s a small pile of books also lined up on the shelf. On her desk, there’s a pen cup, a couple other notebooks; on the tabletop beside her current notebook is a pile of rubber-banded cards. Next to her desk, there’s a square safe set into a shelf, locked up tight. 

Maki notes something in her book, sets Kuina’s card aside, then looks to Chishiya and Yamato. A small frown pulls at her mouth as her eyes fall on Yamato’s blood-stained shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“Yamato got shot in another game, I was going to take him down to Ann when we were done here,” Kuina explains. 

“I’ll start with you then, Yamato,” Maki says, flipping through the pages of her notebook. She runs through a series of questions, noting down Yamato’s name and answers with practiced efficiency. When it comes to the cards, Yamato chews his bottom lip. This is all still part of his act, Chishiya realises. 

“Chishiya been carrying all of our cards. They’re all mixed up, does that matter?” he asks. His eyes are round and wide, playing innocent, like someone to be endeared. Chishiya’s hand shifts against the large deck of cards in his pants pocket, knowing they’re not all their own. 

Maki smiles lightly, “That’s fine, I’ll figure it out. You can go see Ann now.” 

Yamato glances to Chishiya, who meets his eye. 

“I’ll see you later,” he says, subtle in his way of telling him to go. 

Yamato nods, letting Kuina lead him out. 

Left alone, Chishiya steps closer to the desk, directly across from Maki. His hands are still in his pockets, his slouch casual. She bobs a pen in the crook between her thumb and first finger. Fitting her knuckles under her chin, her warm eyes flicker up towards his. 

“Chishiya, huh? That’s an unusual name,” she muses, noting it down, “And your first name?” 

He pauses a moment, deciding whether or not to lie. It’s not as if she has the capabilities to look him up. 

“Shuntaro,” he answers finally. 

“What kanji do you use?” 

“Is that important?” 

She smiles, “No. I’m just curious.” 

He tells her, 駿太郎, talented first-son. Her smile twitches slightly, amused. She jots it down with precise strokes of her pen. From what he can see of the notebook, it’s all in her neat handwriting. 

“That looks … detailed,” he compliments, keeping casual as he looks at her, “Do you take all the notes for the Beach?” 

“Ever since the beginning,” she replies coolly, missing the flash of interest in his eyes. “Do you have a preference for game types? Or I can put you on Kuina’s team if you guys like working together - cards please.” 

“I suppose I do best in Diamond games.” He reaches into his pocket to pull out the deck of cards, pauses, realises something. As he hands the deck over, he queries, “Your voice … you do the broadcast, don’t you? On the radios?” 

Her head ducks slightly, hiding an embarrassed smile as she takes the cards, sets them down, and lines out a diamond next to his name. 

“I did the recording, yes. Forget we still had that running.” She mumbles the last part, then shakes it off, her pen poised at the ready as she asks: “And what was your occupation? Back in reality, I mean.”

He lifts a brow, curiously, “I thought this was 'paradise', are you planning to put me to work?” 

“Only to ask if you’re willing to help. This place doesn’t run without people to help out. Who do you think keeps the electricity working or the cars running or the supplies filled?” She prods the nib of her pen against her thumb, leaving a dark little spot. “Some of us have to work thankless jobs even here.” 

“I was a lawyer,” he lies smoothly. 

She smiles lightly and pens it down. 

“Not exactly useful in a lawless world, is it?” he muses. 

“Unfortunately not, but I do have just one more question for you.” There’s a shift in her gaze, a realised whetted focus as she looks at him. She plucks up the deck of cards she’d placed down by her notebook, then taps them into a neat set on the tabletop, “The two of you can’t have played in all these games yourselves, so where did you get so many cards?” 

He pauses, allowing a beat to pass as he considers an answer, his visage effortlessly calm. Their gazes are locked. Her intense eyes never falter from him and, finally, he smirks slightly. 

“You caught me,” he answers coolly, holding his hands up in mock-defeat, breaking their gazes with a slow blink, “I heard a rumour, one about the Beach collecting cards. I thought we’d have a better chance of being accepted if we had a lot, so I took them off the bodies of the losers.” 

“Off dead bodies, you mean.” 

“Yes.” 

Her lips purse slightly. She takes a short breath, collecting herself and setting the cards aside with the rest of the night’s collection. 

“Well if these are all your cards, then you’re welcome to go off and explore the Beach at your leisure. The executives’ rooms on the top two floors and the council rooms on this floor are off-limits, but you’re free to go anywhere else. You can find food and water in storage on the second floor, you’re welcome to any of it so have your fill.” She looks at the cards, thumbs up the corners of them to look at the numbers and suits, “From the looks of these cards, you two can feel free to find rooms for the night on either the fifth or sixth floors. After I determine your ranks, we’ll be able to narrow down which you should be on. Someone will come see you tomorrow with your tags.” 

It sounds completely rehearsed. He supposes she must do this often. His eyes flick down to the notebooks on her desk. If she’s truly kept notes since the beginning of the Beach, it’d be useful to get his hands on even one of her books, but he doesn’t guess that it’ll be easy. 

He nods in reply with a casual smile, which she returns. With one last quick look around the room, he turns and leaves out the door. 

After leaving the office, Chishiya wanders around the hotel for a while, taking it all in. Eventually, he ends up on the second floor, spying Yamato and Kuina just as they leave a room through a pair of swinging doors. Yamato adjusts his shirt, fitting it back into place. Chishiya can see the slight lump of gauze under the thin stained fabric over his shoulder. When their eyes meet, Yamato smiles and quickly heads towards him. Kuina waves good-bye to someone in the room they’d left, before coming to join Yamato and Chishiya. 

“Well, there’s only one thing left now. Rule number one, swimwear required,” Kuina says. 

“Are we going on a shopping trip?” Yamato questions jokingly, quirking a dark brow.

“Wouldn’t call it much of a 'trip'. Someone gathered a bunch of clothes before I got here, there’s a room full of it all. Come on.” 

Kuina leads them on. Still on the second floor, she guides them to a room and pushes the door open. Inside, there’s rails of hanging swimwear, split into groups of bikinis, two pieces and full suits, shorts, board shorts, swim shirts, thin jackets, and robes, all in various sizes. Kuina waves them in, motions to the rails. 

“I’ll leave you guys to it. You can keep your clothes if you want; you can wear whatever you want while playing the games, the rule only applies to the Beach,” she explains, “Oh, did Makina tell you where you can stay?” 

“The rooms on the fifth or sixth floor,” Chishiya replies. 

Kuina lips purse, seemingly impressed. 

“You guys must’ve had quite the deck.” She drums her fingers on the doorjamb, smiles, “Guess I’ll be seeing you two around.” 

With that, she turns and leaves, closing the door. He can still hear the slight muffled humming of music from below. Out the gaps of the curtain-drawn window, he can see the flashes of coloured neon lights. Yamato strolls further into the room, running his fingers along the line of stretchy swim shirts. He plucks one down, looks at it, puts it back on the rail. 

“So what are you thinking?” He asks, sliding a row of hangers aside so he can look at Chishiya on the other side. 

“That girl, Makina, she could be the key,” Chishiya says, already planning. 

Yamato smiles, leans towards him, prods a fingertip to his chest. “I bet you could get close to her, force down her walls. Those cards would be ours in no time.” 

Chishiya looks at him, “If Hatter’s still here, they mustn’t have a full deck yet. We’ll have to wait.” 

“You’ll need time to get close to her anyway. She must be keeping the cards in that safe, right? If she trusts you enough, then she won’t suspect you when the cards go missing out of it.” 

Chishiya looks at him, his eyes narrowing slightly, unconvinced. 

“Why don’t you get close to her then? Isn’t that your forte?” 

Yamato huffs, “Sure, I could do it, but it would take time and focus and, let’s face it, you’re unsociable. It’d be better for me to try and bleed information from the regular folk around here while you get close to her. Besides, a girl like that?” He trails off, clicks his tongue, winks, “I bet she’d love the attention of a hot guy like you.” 

Chishiya smirks slightly. “So you expect me to flirt with her?” 

“Isn’t that what you’d expect from me?” he shoots back lazily, picking another shirt from the rail and holding it up to his torso. “You go cozy up to the cute notekeeper, and I’ll get information from all the regular boarders. Kuina could also be useful.” 

Chishiya hums in agreement, then crosses around the middle row of the rails towards the rows of board shorts. He flips through a few of them, sliding the hangers across the metal rail, grimacing slightly at the bright summery colours of the majority of them. Shifting a few more aside, he finds a pair that’s passably wearable. 

On the other side of the rail, Yamato pulls his shirt off over his head with a quiet pained sound. He runs his fingers over the white gauze and medical tape, frowning. It’s still sore. Ann had at least been better supplied than the small medical kit Chishiya had used back in the apartment. He folds his shirt in half, hangs it over a free space in the railing. 

Chishiya glances aside. His eyes set on Yamato’s bandaged shoulder, then on the smooth slope of his broad back. Quickly, he turns away to face the railing again. He can’t get distracted, not even by Yamato, he needs to focus on the plan. Unzipping his jacket, he shrugs it off and hangs it off the end of the rail, then starts to pull his t-shirt off. 

Yamato dresses, shuffling the tight shirt until it sits comfortably. Turning to the middle rail, he thumbs through a few of the hangers before he grabs a pair of simple black board shorts. Through the space between the rails, his eyes find Chishiya’s back as he’s pulling his shirt off. His gaze travels over him, the soft slope of his waist down to his hips where his waistband sits low. 

Feeling his face heat slightly, Yamato chews at the inside of his bottom lip. Forcing the feeling down, he reminds himself what he’d just told Chishiya to do, to go flirt with that Maki girl. It sparks against a flint of jealousy in his chest. His gaze flits to Chishiya’s hands as they reach for the waistband of his pants. Part of him longs to keep watching, but he forces himself to turn away and quickly undress and redress himself. 

He busies himself with folding up his clothes. Chishiya zips his jacket up over his bare torso as he steps back around the middle rail, he fits a hand into his pocket. Yamato’s eyes flicker over the bareness of his upper chest and the soft points of his collarbones peeking between the zippered collar of his jacket. Yamato tucks his own removed clothes under his arm, then yawns into his knuckles. 

“We’ll talk to Kuina tomorrow, she might be able to give us some more information. Let’s go find a room,” Chishiya says. 

“There were new people tonight?” Niragi says as he comes to join Maki in her corner of the second floor annex. 

She’s sitting by the window, her chin propped in her palm. The neon lights from outside catch over the soft angles of her face. There’s an empty can dangling from her fingers. At the sound of his voice, she sits a little straighter and glances his way as he takes a seat beside her. He sets a melon soda on the table in front of her and she smiles her thanks, taking it to replace the drink she’d finished. 

“Yamato and Chishiya,” she answers, “They seem nice enough.” 

There’s a slight hesitation in her voice and Niragi raises a curious brow at her, his query silent but obvious, 'nice enough?'. She sighs lightly, cracks open the can, takes a sip as she mulls over her earlier conversation with Chishiya. She takes a breath. 

“They took cards off dead bodies,” she states finally. 

Confusion creases Niragi’s face, “What?” 

“The blond guy - Chishiya - he said he overheard something about the Beach collecting cards, so he got cards off the 'losers' thinking it would help them get accepted here.” 

“As if Hatter’s turning anyone away,” he replies with a roll of his eyes, “How’d they end up ranking?” 

“They had a lot of cards, so they’ll probably be pretty high up. I haven’t sorted and counted them all yet.” She grimaces lightly at the thought of the extra work and takes another sip from her drink. A thought pops in her mind and she smiles, chuckles lightly. “It’s a little funny actually.” 

Niragi looks at her. 

She explains, “Chishiya, he’s good at diamond games and his name means 'talented'. Starts with an 'S', similar to 'excellence'.” She giggles a little. “That long pale hair, his white clothes … it’s like he took your whole scheme and flipped it.” She leans her cheek onto her knuckles, smiles, “Maybe I’ll put you two on a team. I bet any diamond game would be a piece of cake then.” 

“I bet I’m smarter,” Niragi replies, an amused hint of a smile across his lips. 

“You sure you want to test that?” Maki counters. 

They both chuckle, sharing smiles. 

There’s more bodies piling up. Hidden away from prying eyes around the backside of the hotel, away from the pool party and the street. Hatter calls the people 'traitors' and demands that Morizono’s sect kills them. No longer the so-called 'bodyguards', they become the 'militants', weapon-toting and secretly carrying out Hatter’s will under Morizono’s enforcing strict command. On the other side, they were calling Hatter’s side 'idealists'. Maki didn’t know which faction she fell into. She didn’t care to try and find out. 

Hatter making Morizono his leashed loyal dog is one thing; to make her brother a murderer, his personal executioner, is another. He’s done it to Niragi too. These things, Maki decides, are inexcusable and she’ll never forgive Hatter for it. 

It’s early morning. Earlier than Maki ever usually gets up. After hearing Morizono leave his room to go on his run, she’d waited and then left her own. Now, Maki stands at the edge of a dumpster, staring down at the corpses where the tarp covering them had flapped off overnight. They’re starting to rot and stink. They should be cremated, they deserved that much. Instead, they’d been left here to decay. Shot and throat-slashed and left to bloat in the sun’s heat and rain water and bloody residue. 

She thinks about the red spider lilies she’d ripped out of the gardens and blinks back the sting of tears. Had they been a warning? Had this always been destined to happen? This is a prison of her own design, it’s as if somewhere along the way she had slipped a noose around her neck and now the ground had slipped out from under her and she’s left choking. 

It does feel like she’s choking. Her throat feels tight, every breath takes an effort and each is edged by a weak sob. She shoves a hand over her face, sniffling, smearing tears across her ruddy cheeks. It’s pathetic. She’s pathetic. There has to be something she could do. Anything has to be better than standing here crying about it. 

She exhales. Takes a deep breath in. Tastes acrid rot. 

Her stomach turns. She twists away from the dumpster and the ghastly sight laid inside it. Finding a long pole by the wall, she grabs it, hooks onto the loosened tarp flap and yanks it back over the bodies. It’s the least she can do; if she can’t cremate them, she can at least be sure they’re not on display for people to gawk at. They deserve that small dignity. 

Niragi’s always been an early bird. At the Beach, there’s few people who wake earlier than him, one of which is Aguni. The difference is that Aguni leaves the hotel in the morning, exercising. Niragi can’t blame him for wanting to get away. Some of the time, he wants to leave too, disappear into the city and leave the Beach in his rearview mirror, then he remembers Maki and she’s worth sticking around for. 

Yawning widely, his jaw pops and he rubs the slightly achy sensation away. His tongue piercing clicks against the backs of his teeth. He continues walking along, taking the elevator down to the second floor, carrying his rifle along with him and letting it swing at his side. The earliness at least brings quiet. The music has been switched off, there’s no noisy partying happening outside. It’s peaceful and Niragi is going to get a coffee and relish in it while he has the chance before everyone else wakes up. 

He passes by Ann’s office as he heads towards the storage room. He’s a few strides down the hall when the makeshift-office door swings open and Ann steps out. 

“Niragi.” With the quiet, her voice easily carries towards him without her having to raise her mild tone. 

He turns around on his heel, swaying his weight around from one foot to the other, and looks at her curiously. Her expression is serious as ever. She stares back at him and it becomes a clear waiting game to see who is going to move first. Ann gives in, sighing, then walking up the hall towards him. Her eyes flick subtly to their surroundings, as if checking to make sure there wasn’t anyone around. Niragi narrows his eyes curiously at her. 

“What is it, Ann?” he asks, tone bored. 

She stops in front of him, crosses her arms. Her eyes flick over him. He stares back, growing quickly frustrated with her silence. It’s a waste of precious quiet time to be standing here waiting for her to speak. He’s close to snapping at her when she finally opens her mouth. 

“I want some of the bodies,” she says plainly. 

Niragi stares at her, his dark eyes widening slightly, bewildered. His clears his throat, flicks his pierced tongue across his bottom lip, unsure if he’s heard her correctly. 

“What?” 

Ann’s shoulders shift slightly, her stance steady, her gaze focused. 

“Your group is killing 'traitors', right? I want to check something, and I’ll need bodies for it. Fresh ones, preferably.” 

Niragi shuffles the flat side of his rifle’s stock against his hip, leaning in as he eyes her closely. She’s unreadable. He doesn’t know what to make of her request, doesn’t know what she could possibly want with bodies of all things. It’s not long until he decides he doesn’t really care nor does he want to bother asking, since it seems pretty clear she won’t give him a straight answer. It’s surprise enough that she’s even talking to him about it. 

“Why are you asking me?” 

Ann keeps him fixed with a look. 

“Who else am I going to ask? Aguni would never agree to it, Last Boss defers to you, and the rest of them aren’t going to listen to me over you guys.” 

His pierced brow quirks. She’s got a point. 

“Fine, sure, I’ll get some brought in to you. I’m guessing you’ll want this kept on the down-low?” 

She huffs. 

“Considering the state of this place nowadays, does it really matter?”

He shrugs, “Guess not.” 

“Two should be enough for now. I just ask that you not damage the head and neck too much.” 

Despite himself, more curiosity grows in Niragi. 

“Do I want to know why?” 

“If I find out something, then you’ll know.” 

With that, she turns to leave, heading back to her office without another word. Niragi huffs and shakes his head. It’s not in his interest to lie or keep secrets from Aguni, he’ll have to bring it up at some point - but not until he can figure out the right way to say it. Despite still doing as Hatter orders, it’s obvious that Aguni has an issue with the killing of so-called traitors, telling him that Ann wants to do some experiment with the bodies is a sure-fire way for the whole plan to be shut down before it even gets started. 

Sighing, he continues up the hallway towards the storage room. 

Chishiya and Yamato spend much of the morning in the room they’d chosen. It bears two beds, a small bathroom, set of drawers and closet, and a small table against a wall with two chairs on either end. Situated far down the hall, it’s away from both the elevator and the stairway - Chishiya’s choice, for the extra privacy. There’s only an arm lock on the inside of the door, the keyhole has been filled in with the key superglued into it; a seemingly new instalment, if the whispered complaints they’d overheard since leaving the room were to be believed. 

In their swimwear, they definitely look the part as boarders now. Yamato in his tight-fitting shirt quickly draws attention, stares following after him as they head down to the ground floor. He flashes a smile in the direction of some choice boarders, but slows to talk to none of them. More than one rushes to try and talk to him, offering drinks or tours. Yamato smiles politely and plays his part perfectly, but knows the more in-depth part of his involvement will come later. First they need to find Kuina. 

It doesn’t take long once Yamato starts asking the people that approach him. None of them even glance Chishiya’s way, not that he minds that much, he prefers to keep to the background anyway. They eventually get pointed in the direction of the kitchen-made-office on the second floor, where Ann had patched up Yamato the previous day. 

They catch Kuina as she’s leaving the office. 

“Kuina,” Yamato greets with a smile, his pace bouncy as he heads down the hallway to her. 

“Hey, there you two are. I thought for sure I wouldn’t be seeing either of you until later, figured you’d want to get some rest,” Kuina replies. “You hungry? I was going to get something for breakfast.” 

After they nod, Kuina leads them down the hall towards a large storage room. The shelves are stocked full of various foods and drinks. Yamato’s gaze turns around the room in awe. This, he realises, is where all the food missing from the shops had gone. Stepping up to one of the shelves, he pushes slightly up onto his toes to look easily onto a higher shelf. There’s rows of various chips and he plucks a container of jagariko down. Kuina gathers various foods for herself. Chishiya grab a packet of biscuits that he tucks away into his pocket as he trails over to the shelves of drinks, grabbing a canned coffee. Yamato pops up behind him, reaching around him to nab himself a milk tea. 

Leaving the storage room, they head to the far side of the restaurant area to sit. Yamato tears the lid off the jagariko, all too happy to leave the talking to Chishiya as he leans back in his seat, munching happily. Chishiya sits, sets his can aside without even opening it. His dark eyes set on Kuina where she sits across from him. 

“This 'traitors' rule of Hatter’s, what caused it?” Chishiya asks. 

Kuina pauses mid-bite, sinks her teeth into a biscuit, chews slowly, swallows. 

“Why do you ask?” she counters. 

“Call it curiosity.” A pause, then an excuse, “And we wouldn’t want to end up in trouble. 'Traitor' can mean different things to different people.” 

Kuina shuffles biscuits around, picks up her coffee to sip it. Her voice is low as she explains, leaning in. Chishiya leans his arms onto the table, Yamato puts down his chips to follow suit. 

“It used to just be the two rules, swimwear and handing in cards. Then Hatter found out some people had been keeping their cards, he had the militants kill them and took the cards back -” 

“Wait, 'militants'?” Yamato cuts in. Kuina nods. 

“That’s what people have been calling them. That guy you saw yesterday, Niragi, he’s one of top three in the sect. The lot of them are kind of assholes but at this point, they’re the only ones who’re allowed to have weapons and they’re in charge of dealing with traitors. Apparently they used to be more of a bodyguarding sect, but that was before I even got here.” She puffs out a breath and picks up her drink, “They called this place a 'paradise' and the way to get home, but it seems like the majority of us will be dead before we even get a chance.”

“So you want to get out of this world as much as we do,” Chishiya states, his dark eyes focused on her. “Are you willing to do whatever it takes?” 

Kuina shifts slightly in her chair. Her warm-brown gaze flickers around the room, cautious, like she’s worried about getting caught. 

“Hey, keep it down, will ya? 'Traitor' rule, remember? And trust me, Hatter is real flimsy with the definition for 'traitor'.” Still, she ushers them closer. “But let’s say that you’re right and I am willing to do what it takes; it’s not going to be easy - do you have a plan or something?” 

He smiles, “Tell me everything you know about Makina.” 

Makina Aguni, he finds out: is the younger sister of the head of the militant sect, has been keeping diligent notes about all Beach residents and teams and games, is the most approachable executive since she deals in figuring out most of the issues around the Beach but otherwise she sticks to herself, she rarely attends the parties but has a designated couch above the main annex where she sits when she’s not in her office. 

With all this new information, Chishiya starts to plot. 

Chapter Text

It’s not often that Niragi gets time to himself. Usually he’s trailing after Aguni or with Last Boss; on days that he gets the chance, he tries to spend some time with Maki, but she keeps herself so busy that it’s difficult to get her alone at times. He feels a pang of jealousy in his chest for the time that Yukimaru and Sumie get to spend with her, doing jobs for her, hanging around in her office as she works at her desk. Trying to shake the feeling off, he reminds himself that it’s him who Maki trusts to look after her brother. 

Still, in a way to feel close to her, Niragi finds himself strolling out into the garden she’d worked on neatening up. People seldom came out around this way, so it’s still as tidy as when she first cleaned it up. The plants are trimmed back and don’t overflow from the garden beds, the tall narrow trees sway in the gentle breeze and cast thin shadows. He leans his head back, his eyes closing against the sun, feeling the wind through his hair. 

“Niragi, there you are!” 

And there goes his peace. 

Sighing, he opens his eyes and glances briefly to the side as Saiko walks up, then looks back to the garden. 

“Does Aguni need me for something?” he asks, his tone bored. 

“No, I was looking for you,” she replies. 

“What for?” 

She laughs, “You don’t know? I thought I was being pretty obvious.” 

He looks sideways at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. She steps closer to him, tilts her chin up to look him in the eye. He stills, refusing to be the one who back away even though he wants to. 

“We could have fun, the two of us.” Her voice is a purr. Her fingers run up the side of his arm. He sets his jaw tightly, shrugs her hand off as it reaches near his shoulder. 

“Stop before you embarrass yourself more than you already have.” 

“Do you really think you have any chance with Makina?” 

Her hand continues up, slipping past his collar and trailing up the back of his neck, her sharp nails scratching along his nape. An uncomfortable shiver races down his spine and he grits his teeth painfully. His hand snaps up and he grabs her wrist tightly, his fingers digging in as he yanks her hand away. 

“Shut your mouth and keep your hands off me,” he snarls, tone scathing. 

“There’s no words for how overprotective Aguni is of his sister - especially when it comes to you and her - and she’s clearly more interested in her stupid little jobs than having any fun. You’re wasting your time pining over her when I’m right here.” 

The words sting, but he swallows the feeling, burying and packing down the metaphorical dirt tight over it. His lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl. He squeezes her wrist, sees a satisfying twinge of pain in her eyes, then he flicks her hand away. 

“You’re pathetic. Fuck off.” 

She scoffs, rubbing her wrist. “Whatever, I can wait. You’ll see, you’ve got no chance.” 

Saiko turns to leave. Niragi curls his hand into a fist, digging his nails against his palm. His tongue flicks in irritation. Heaving out a breath, he swipes his hand over the back of his neck to clear the lingering sensation of Saiko’s touch away. Shifting his rifle where he’s holding it at his side, his eyes glance down to his wrist, where the bracelet is. He touches his fingertips to the beads. Saiko didn’t know what she was talking about. He wasn’t wasting his time, he was simply lying in wait. 

By midday, Chishiya leaves Yamato with Kuina. That, too, is part of their plan. Kuina already has an 'in' with these people and Yamato is so personable that it won’t be difficult for him to slip in among them. He’s handsome and easily acceptable, he preens under attention and gives it back in a way that makes a single person feel special. In a way, he’s the perfect partner for this kind of thing. So Chishiya can be single focused on Maki, on the cards, meanwhile Yamato can find out information about the Beach and the people here. If Hatter really has a source into the secrets of this world, Chishiya trusts Yamato will uncover them. 

He makes his way upstairs in one of the elevators. Maki’s office is up on the eighth floor where most of the boarders aren’t allowed, holed away at the end of the hallway past the closed-doored conference rooms. Just walking past them swells a curiosity in Chishiya. 

What did they discuss in there? What secrets did those walls witness? Maki had called them 'council rooms' and 'off limits'. Was there a possibility he could be granted entry? How many cards would it take? Who did he need to convince? Was Maki enough or did he need Hatter in his pocket too? Hatter clearly has an interest in pretty women, which makes it unfortunately doubtful that Yamato could draw his attention, not that it matters since it’s Chishiya who needs to be in the room. 

He sets the thoughts aside. If anything, it’s a future plan. For now, his focus needs to be on Maki. He passes the council rooms, looks towards the last door, the one leading to Maki’s office. It’s cracked half-open, welcoming anyone who bothered to come up looking for her. As he leans to look in through the wide gap, he can make out pale yellow sunlight shining into the room, there’s quiet music playing, something different than the loud blaring from downstairs. 

He steps up to the door, knocking lightly on the wood, nudging it wider open as he steps into the doorway. Behind the desk, Maki looks up from her notebook. A smile pulls to her lips, but there’s a glint of surprise in her eyes. She still looks quite tired. He wonders if she gets much sleep. Kuina had mentioned she works a lot, all manner of little jobs that pile up to keep her near-constantly busy. He considers Maki’s words from when they’d spoken that first night. 'Thankless jobs'. 

“Chishiya,” she says, setting her pen in the middle of her notebook, “I suppose I should’ve guessed you weren’t the type for day drinking and pool parties.” 

“Not quite my scene. Neither is the swimwear, but rules are rules,” he answers with a slight smile in return. 

His gaze flicks over her and he notes she’s not wearing swimwear today, nor was she when they’d first met. She’s dressed more casually like that man he supposes must be her brother - Aguni, Kuina simply called him, the same guy from that tag game - and a small handful of other 'militants' he’d seen as he explored his way through the hotel. For some reason, that rule didn’t apply to some select few around here. 

She laughs lightly, waves for him to enter. 

“That rule was all Hatter. Have you been settling in okay otherwise?” 

“It’s been alright. Nice to sleep in an actual bed.” An easy lie, one he’s sure will illicit sympathy. She didn’t need to know he and Yamato had been surviving quite well in that apartment. 

“That was my exact thought the first night we arrived here.” 

He walks further into the room, crossing over to her with casual slow strides, keeping an air of unimposing laxness around him. On her desk, there’s a bunch of familiar cards laid out ahead of her notebook, his and Yamato’s decks. She’s been sorting them into piles, categorised by suit. There’s still a sizeable amount sitting in a single mixed deck, she’s barely made it half of the way through. 

“You said you’ve been taking notes since the beginning, right? So you helped found this place?” 

Her smile twitches slightly. 

“This place is all Hatter’s idea, I just …” She motions vaguely to her book and the cards. 

“Do all the work?” he proffers. 

Another twitch in her smile, “Something like that.” 

Her hand fiddles with her pen, drawing his gaze down. He looks to her notebook, the tidy lines of her calculations and neat words and tiny thin-lined card suits. With it upside down to him, he can’t make out much of it, but he can tell that it’s impressively detailed. It’s a different book than the one she’d taken his and Yamato’s details down in. If she’s got one notebook for that and another for this, what else has she got hidden away in others? 

He tilts his head, nods his chin towards the book. 

“From the looks of your notes, I’m betting you did it for work back in the real world. What were you? An accountant? Secretary? Data analyst?” 

Maki laughs, a more real one than her last, slightly embarrassed as she shakes her head. 

“No, I work in a bookshop. Not even a really good one. Kinda crappy little place, no more than maybe eight of us employees - including the manager-slash-owner - but …” she shrugs, “I love it, hung out there all the time when I was younger. They practically hired me right out of high school, and I’ve been working there ever since.” She leans her arms onto the desk, “But you’re a lawyer, right? That must be interesting. Was it a family thing or are you the first?” 

He should lie here too, but for some reason finds himself telling the truth. 

“My father’s a doctor, my mother’s more of …” A jobless stay-at-home floating by on her family and husband’s accrued wealth? “A socialite.” 

“They must be proud of you.” 

He shrugs. His gaze falls back to the book, the cards. He motions to them. 

“Do you need help with that? I remember which games Yamato and I actually played if that matters to your ranking.” 

“Sure, pull up a seat if you want, but I have to warn you: it’s boring work.” 

He thinks of Yamato, his easy charm, honey-sweet manipulation dripping from his lips, finds a way to mimic it for himself. A smile draws to his lips, he meets Maki’s gaze. 

“You’re here, so I can’t imagine it’ll be so bad.” 

Here at the Beach, Yamato feels back in his element. The neon, flashing lights and the music and the joviality. It’s a breath of fresh air from the dull drabness of the empty city and the tension of the games. A pretty girl points him in the direction of where he can get himself a drink and he winks at her as he heads off, grinning at the way she flushes pink. If he’d known this 'Beach' place was going to be like this, he might’ve been more interested when Chishiya insisted on finding it. 

Somehow he finds he’s wasted over two hours without even realising it. He’s had barely a second to himself, people coming over to introduce themselves and chat and offer him drinks. In a way, it’s as invigorating as it is exhausting. He smiles and chats and drinks and time just slips away from him. 

By the time he’s strolling his way towards where Kuina is lying back on a deck chair, there’s the tingle of tipsiness warming under his skin. He drops into the seat beside her and runs a hand through his hair, exhaling an easy sigh. Kuina sits up and chuckles at the sight of him. 

“Looks like you’ve been having fun,” she says, plucking the cigarette from beside her ear and twiddling it between her fingers. He recognises the motion, a kind of familiar repetition. 

“You need a light for that?” he asks, motioning to the cigarette, “I think there’s a couple people around here with lighters?” 

Kuina looks down at the cigarette, “Oh, no. It’s fine. I’m quitting.” 

“Quitting? Here?” Yamato asks, quirking a brow, “Kinda a crazy time to quit, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” she huffs quietly, amused, twirling the cig, “But as good a time as any.” 

Yamato’s gaze slides over her. It’s almost like she’s holding back from saying something, caging it behind her teeth. He’s nobody if not someone who opens the door for little birds. Shifting in his seat, he turns his eyes out towards the pool and all the people milling around, he keeps his expression casual, his body relaxed. He has a calm aura around him. 

“Have you been here long?” he asks. 

She tucks the cigarette back over her ear, crossing her legs up onto the chair. 

“Long enough. A couple of weeks,” she replies, “I got brought in with a group. Met during a clubs game, a couple of the guys from here invited us.” 

“And then you met Makina and Ann?” 

“Makina first. She was still doing the tours back then.” Her elbows press onto her thighs, she hangs her hands loosely over her crossed legs. A small smile pulls at her lips. “Ann came after. Makina called out to her during the tour, I think she just wanted a chance to breathe and used Ann to distract us.” 

Yamato’s gaze flicks, noting. The twisting of her fingers and plucking at her bracelets, the small curve of a smile and the downturn of her eyes, all at just the simple mention of Ann. Kuina likes her, it’s obvious, she just hasn’t made the jump of admitting it to anyone but herself. Strange since it seems like Kuina isn’t the type to hold her emotions back. 

He takes a sip from his drink. It’s lukewarm, but not so bad, still refreshing as he swallows. His eyes trail along after a gaggle of women; when a couple of them glance back his way, he flashes a charming smile. 

“This place doesn’t seem so bad, you know? Like you said, better than being out there,” he says, his drink dangling from his fingers. 

“Where were you two holed up out there?” she asks. 

“Oh, we just bounced around the city. Stayed anywhere closed in for the nights, moved around during the days, just trying to figure this place out,” he lies smoothly, painting a sympathy-worthy picture. 

“Gotta say, having a decent bed every night - it’s one of the good things about being here.” 

“So why’d you agree to work with us so quickly? Since it’s not so bad here?” 

Kuina pauses, frowns slightly, her fingers brush over the cigarette at her ear. 

“My mother, she’s sick. I need to get back to help her,” she replies quietly, “I need to get home, as soon as possible. I don’t have time to wait around here until my number comes up.” 

Yamato’s expression softens slightly, understanding. His own mother’s visage appears into his thoughts, the pinched scowl of her mouth and the constant disdaining emotion in her eyes whenever she’d look at him. He almost flinches at the sharp-edges of the memories, but instead pulls his drink to his mouth, swallows the thoughts down with the liquor. It burns all the way down his throat and her face dissolves from his mind. 

He glances sideways at Kuina, flashing another smile. 

“Well, I hope we can help you out. With the three of us, I bet it’ll take no time at all.” 

A couple of days have passed since Chishiya and Yamato arrived at the Beach. In that short stretch of time, a new flame of jealousy has kindled itself inside of Niragi. Yamato he doesn’t have any thoughts on, just some new pretty face bouncing around from person to person, attention-grabbing. He’s not worth wasting thoughts on, so Niragi doesn’t. Chishiya is the problem. Chishiya who has been spending more than a little time with Maki, and Niragi can’t figure out why. He’s not like Yukimaru, first approaching her for jobs to help out with before they became friends; nor is he like Sumie, an unimposing unimportant girl who simply enjoys Maki’s company. 

Chishiya is different. And annoying. And for whatever reason, he seems to have his sights set on Maki. More than once, Niragi had caught the blonde leaving Maki’s office or seen him hanging around Maki as she collects cards at night. He’d once described Yukimaru as a 'trailing puppy', Chishiya is more like a wolf on the hunt. 

Frustratingly, when Niragi joins Maki for a game, Chishiya and Yamato are told to join them. It had been Ann to suggest it when one of her teams discovered a new arena set up for tonight and Maki’s visas were running low enough for her to need to play a game. 

With no new dead traitors to fulfil Ann’s body request, Niragi’s half-sure this is a stab at him for not upholding his side. 

Maki’s driving, because it’s her car. Niragi sits in the passenger seat, because he refuses to let his spot be taken by the other two. Chishiya and Yamato sit in the backseat, Yamato behind Maki and Chishiya behind Niragi. 

Inside the car is quiet, none of them are speaking. In his periphery, Niragi can see Maki chew her bottom lip, seemingly thinking of something to break up the silence. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, towards where he can see Chishiya in the backseat. He’s looking at Maki and Niragi’s mouth twitches. Chishiya’s gaze shifts, meeting Niragi’s in the mirror. Niragi holds his eye, refusing to be the one to look away first. 

“Is that it?” comes Yamato’s voice, breaking the stare off. 

“Yep,” Maki answers as she starts to pull the car into a parking spot by the sidewalk. 

Niragi glances out the front window towards a lit-up building. It’s a sports centre, or maybe a gym. A big wide stretch of a building, glowing in the dim-light of early evening, the sun fading low on the far horizon, the moon casting a faint bluish glow as it rises higher above. Turning off the engine, Maki pulls the keys from the ignition and clips them back onto her ring-of-keys that hooked through one of her belt loops. 

She hops out of the car and the men follow suit, letting her take the lead. 

Niragi is quick to fall into line at Maki’s side, blocking Chishiya and missing the slightly-frustrated glare aimed at the back of his head before he steps around to her other side. Yamato trails casually behind them. 

As they walk through the wide, propped-open front doors, Niragi glances sideways at Maki. There’s a kind of focused determination that she gets when she’s walking into a game, a steady sharpness coming to her eyes. Her hands swing at her side. His eyes flick down to the one hanging between him and her, watching as her thumbpad shoves around the ring on her first finger; a nervous habit, he’s realised. He thinks to reach out and brush his fingers along the back of her’s, over her knuckles, silent assurance that he’s here and he’ll have her back. 

Maki’s gaze flicks, meeting his, and she smiles lightly at him. She shifts her thumb into her palm, fingers curling over it, stilling the spinning of her ring. Niragi smiles faintly back, then they both refocus as they step through the last propped open doors into an open indoor swimming arena. The room stretches out before them with three large lap-lane pools, the lane-ropes rolled up and out of the water at the ends of each pool. 

There’s a decently-sized group of people waiting around, some strolling along the tiled edge of the pool, others keeping their distance. As the four of them walk towards the waiting table to register into the game, Niragi glances towards the pool. His brows scrunch as he notices all the things in the pools, pedestals and tables and all manner of flat objects making broken-up paths across the water. 

The air in the room feels more humid than it does outside and there’s an odd smell in the air, something like cooking oil. His nose twitches but he pushes it down as he picks up a phone, tucking it away into his pocket when he’s done registering in. Already, Chishiya and Yamato have wandered away from the table; Chishiya with his hands tucked in his pockets as he stands by the edge of the pool, Yamato standing beside him and glancing around at the other players, his gaze observing. 

Maki stands a few metres from the pool’s edge, her head tilted slightly, a small frown on her mouth. Niragi steps to her side. She nods to the far-off other side of the room. 

“The printer’s all the way over there,” she says. 

Niragi glances around. 

“And the ends of the pools are blocked off,” he adds, then nudges her arm with his elbow, “Looks like the only way across is through. Are you a good swimmer?” 

She frowns slightly, “You already know I can hold my breath, but I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a strong swimmer.” 

“Well, from the looks of those paths, maybe the point of the game is to stay out of the water.” 

Maki nods shortly with a quiet hum. Her gaze shifts as Chishiya strolls over to them. Chishiya meets her eyes and Niragi’s mouth thins in a line as she smiles faintly, polite as ever. 

“The water’s boiling,” Chishiya states plainly. 

“What?” Maki asks, her brows furrowed. 

Chishiya looks back towards the water, turning his weight on his heel. 

“There’s immersion heaters in the pool. The water’s boiling, you can feel it as soon as you get close. It’s bubbling.” 

Maki grimaces, “So we definitely want to stay out of the water.” 

A few more players enter before the doors swing closed and the familiar robotic voice comes across the speakers. Yamato comes back over to their group, stepping in next to Chishiya, the broad line of his shoulders set straight. The large group of players glance around, some nervous, some looking overconfident, all intense in their focus. 

“Registration closed,” the robotic voice starts. “Three of spades. Game, The Floor is Lava.” 

Niragi’s gaze flicks, watching Maki look back towards the pool, her pink mouth still pressed thin. He takes a breath, calming himself and sharply steeling his focus. Chishiya and Yamato don’t matter, he just has to make sure that Maki makes it through. This is a spades game, not a clubs, he doesn’t have to worry about the rest of the players. 

“Players must make their way across all three pools and the finish line to win. Touching the 'lava' is means for immediate elimination. Game complete when the timer reaches zero. Game lost if no players reach the finish line before time runs out,” the static-y voice continues. 

“We should split up,” Maki says. 

Niragi’s head snaps towards her. In his periphery, he sees Chishiya do the same. Before either of them can say anything, she continues, her gaze still turned to the pools. 

“It’s too dangerous for us to bunch together, we might accidentally knock each other into the pool. We don’t know how stable those platforms are. Find a path and take it, but be careful,” she says. Her gaze turns to each of them in turn, those round lamb eyes. “All of you, focus and be careful.” 

Despite not liking the idea, Niragi still nods in reply. 

Across the room, high on the wall, a pace clock has been adapted, a timer plinking out 30-minutes. The robotic voice announces the start of the game and the hand on the clock starts moving, tick-tick-ticking. There’s a scramble of panic, the other players darting and shoving to find a path across the first pool. Niragi pulls aside to avoid a player skittering by. 

Chishiya and Yamato share a brief look, Chishiya nods subtly and Yamato turns on his toes to head towards the pool’s edge. A hand finds Niragi’s elbow and he glances down to see Maki’s fingers on the fabric of his shirt, giving him a small nudge to start moving. Begrudgingly, he does, his eyes flicking across the platforms to find the quickest path. He’s sure Maki and Chishiya are doing the same, and he waits. 

The water burbles. He pretends to still be looking for a route, glancing sidelong until he sees Maki take her first step out, hopping onto a small square platform that looks to be made of wood. She’s careful, cautious, pausing as she waits to see if it’ll shift beneath her feet. When it doesn’t, she keeps going. Niragi watches her for a few paces longer, then starts to cross himself. He finds a long plank-like platform, taking careful steps to its edge before hopping across to another platform. Time is ticking and they don’t have long. 

Step after step, platform after platform, he finds his way along. Boiling water bubbles up over the edges of the pedestals and he keeps the soles of his shoes away from the drips, centring himself on each platform as he moves along. One player trips into the boiling water, another’s foot slips off their platform. Both are dead in moments, stuck down by lasers. Niragi ignores them, keeps moving, keeps his eye on Maki as she hops along. She reaches the other edge of the pool and, when her feet find solid ground again, he feels a thud of relief in his chest. 

He completes his own route not minutes after her. As he glances up, he finds that Yamato is the furthest across, already halfway across the second pool and moving quick. Chishiya is last, and he brushes past Niragi without even sparing a look at him. Niragi’s lip curls in abhorrence. The guy’s as annoying as ever, his hands are even still tucked in his jacket pockets. Ignoring him in return, Niragi follows and moves to where Maki stands at the edge of the second pool. 

The stench of oil is stronger here and he quick realises why when he glances down at the pool. It’s not full of boiling water, but golden bubbling oil. His eyes turn to Maki again. He can practically see the gears of her thoughts spinning in her head. She tucks her hair back behind her ears, taking a quick sharp breath, in then huffed out through her nose. 

“Let’s go,” she says. 

They each take different first steps across. Maki’s the shortest, Niragi notices how she makes practical choices for each step across, whatever is closest together so she doesn’t have to leap across or stretch too far even if it adds to how long it takes to get across. Niragi’s taller, but he has no interest in having to make precise jumps, so long as he can stretch comfortably from one platform to the next then it’s fine. Chishiya and Yamato he pays no attention to … until he’s forced too. 

Further across the pool, there’s a commotion, a scream. Niragi gets his feet steady on the platform beneath him before he looks up. Yamato is laid out on the tiled ground between the second and third pools, evidently having been pushed and landing heavily on one side but now he’s propped up on his arm, his feet inches from the pool’s edge. In front of him, there’s a bubbling-skinned hand disappearing into the oil. 

“Yamato!” Chishiya calls out, an unexpected touch of concern in his tone that makes Niragi eye him. 

Seemingly stunned by what had just happened, it takes Yamato a moment to shake it off and look towards Chishiya, throwing a thumbs-up in reassurance. Pushing back to his feet, he straightens his shirt and rubs at the elbow he must’ve landed on as he turns towards the final pool. 

By the time Niragi reaches the other side of the pool, a few more players have slipped and died. He pays no mind to their bubbling, floating bodies, but the stink of their cooking bodies is sickly and distracting. It’s pungent, smelling like cooked meat but wrong, which he supposes it is. Even with the dwindling supply of decently edible food, let alone fresh food, he hopes no one has turned to cannibalism. 

His feet hit the tiles and he looks up to find a number of players standing in waiting. Stepping around them, he finds his way to Maki, then looks towards the pool. There’s less platforms in this one and they’re dispersed much wider apart, making it difficult to find a decent route across without having to jump at least once. More confusing is the 'water'. It’s still, not bubbling like the previous two. The liquid is clear, looking plainly like water. 

There’s a palpable tension in the air. 

The timer rings, warning them of the impending last-few-minutes countdown. A few players, forcing down their nerves, take their first cautious steps onto the few starting platforms. The rest of the players are forced to wait until there’s enough room to start going. A couple shift anxiously, looking between the timer and the stretch of pool laid out in front of them. 

One, a lanky male player, seems unwilling to wait his turn and lunges onto a platform. He scrambles across, quickly ending up behind one of the first players to step out. Desperate, he grapples at the other man and they struggle against each other. It happens so quick that Niragi doesn’t see who slips first, but suddenly both of them are toppling into the water. 

The laser doesn’t immediately strike and there’s a sickening moment as they breach back out of the water to gargle screams. Niragi watches, eyes wide in shock, as skin sloughs off one player’s arm as he tries to drag himself out onto the platform. The other man looks like he’s melting, his face like heated wax, the skin of his cheek slopping down over his jaw. 

“It’s acid,” he hears Maki realise, her voice both shocked and sickened. 

The timer chimes again. Tension runs across Niragi’s shoulders, they’re running out of time. They need to make it all the way across the pool without slipping, without being pushed by any of the other players; slow and careful enough to keep their footing but fast enough to beat the timer. The gaps between the platforms are larger, there’s no avoiding jumping which adds to the risk of slipping. His eyes flick, trying to figure out the best path to take for himself and Maki. 

In his periphery, he sees Chishiya step closer, his hand brushing Maki’s wrist. 

“We need to keep moving,” he says. 

Maki sets her jaw, then nods. 

Already, Yamato has started moving, hopping across to his first platform and continuing along with only slight hesitation in his slowed steps. Maki, with Chishiya’s coaxing, steps towards one of the platforms closer to the pool’s edge and seems to concentrate on putting her feet directly in the middle and away from the stagnant acid. 

Niragi doesn’t have time to waste just standing and watching. As much as he wants to be sure Maki makes it across okay, it won’t matter if he dies in the process by being too slow and letting the timer run out. Finding his own route, he stretches to reach a long platform and walks the length of it, keeping Maki in the corner of his vision. 

As time ticks down, they make their way along. More players fall in, Niragi tries not to look at them, even when one falls right in front of him and their melting hand grasps the edge of his platform, a gurgle escaping their mouth that he guesses must’ve be an attempt at a cry for help. Then the laser strikes down and they sink away, slick blood pooling into the acid and making the clearness murky. He shakes it off, keeps moving, steps carefully over the splashes that had come up onto the platform. 

A few more platforms along and he’s making good time, then he hears a familiarly-toned sharp gasp. His head jerks up, gaze flicking quickly until his eyes finally land on Maki. There’s the clench of a cold hand around in his heart, stopping him in place. She’s slipped, landing on her hands and knees mere inches from the edge of her platform. He sees her snatch her splayed fingers into her palms, clenching into fists away from the acid, and wonders if she’s hurt herself. 

Hopping across to a platform in her direction, he finds himself too slow as Chishiya reaches her and takes her by the arm. Jealousy burns through Niragi’s chest, fervent, twining through the cage of his ribs. He watches as Chishiya helps Maki to her feet, one hand in her’s, his other landing on the slope of her waist to steady her. For as short as the distance seems, Niragi can’t quite make out what they’re saying to each other. 

Before he can continue towards them, Chishiya is turning Maki forward and urging her on towards the pool’s edge and the finish line. Frustrated, Niragi’s tongue flicks over his teeth, the piercing bouncing along enamel. Resetting his focus, he exhales and puts his attention back on making it across the pool without falling in. 

Yamato’s already on the other side, waiting. He holds a hand out to help Maki when she gets close, seeming to hurry to usher her along so he can reach towards Chishiya, finding his hand and steadying him for the long step from platform to safe tiled floor. Niragi is still a few platforms away from the edge, but he forces himself to not rush and trip himself up so close to the end. Maki waits on the tiles, twisted around to watch him, ignoring how Chishiya and Yamato try to tug her towards the finish line. 

Niragi glances towards her again when he’s closer. He frowns slightly when he sees that Chishiya’s hand is at her elbow, his fingertips curled into the soft dip of her arm. Finally, his feet land on the solid ground of the tiles and he sighs a breath of relief. Maki pulls out of Chishiya’s grip and steps towards him, her hand reaching out to curl her fingers into the wrist of his sleeve. The brush of her fingers is warm. 

He doesn’t catch the hint of frustration in Chishiya’s eyes before he turns around to walk with Yamato across the line, his hands shoved back into his pockets, his gait casual. 

Niragi lets Maki pull him along. His gaze flicks down to her hand as they cross the finish line. There’s a few players still on the platforms, the timer still ticking down. Safe on the other side of the line, Niragi takes her hand, turning her knuckles into his palm and running his thumb up her fingers. She looks at him curiously, her head tilting as he meets her eyes. 

“You didn’t burn yourself when you tripped?” he asks. 

She shakes her head, “No, I’m okay.” 

“Good.” 

The timer hits zero just as one player shoots across the finish line. Three players still on the platforms get quick struck down and Maki flinches, looking away. Niragi rubs his thumb against her palm, then releases her hand to rest his own hand on her back, guiding her to turn around and walk towards the waiting table with the printer. The players line up and then filter out when they get their visas and cards. Yamato lets Chishiya take his and his own; in turn, Chishiya twists and passes both cards to Maki without hesitation, then steps aside to let Maki collect her own visa and card. 

Leaving the aquatic center behind them, the group head back to the waiting Skyline. Maki tucks the cards and her visa into her pocket, then pulls the car keys off her carabiner, pressing the unlock button as she heads towards the driver’s side. With Maki’s gaze elsewhere, Niragi elbows into Chishiya to get past him and step towards the passenger seat, pulling open the door and hopping in. As he sits, he’s mildly disappointed with the knowledge that he’d be unable to convince Maki to leave the other two here and make them walk back to the Beach. 

Chapter Text

The drive back to the Beach is quiet again. Maki is lost in her thoughts. She thinks about the pools, about the last one with the acid, the bodies that had fallen into it. The smell of oil in the air and the melting skin is not something she will soon forget. She supposes it’s just another memory of horror that she’ll have to live with, like so many other things that had happened in this world. It makes her stomach turn. 

Part of her wants to pull the car off to the side of the road and hurl up her guts into the overgrowth, a stronger part swallows the feeling down and keeps her foot on the pedal. She keeps the Skyline’s speed on the slow side, none of her usual gleeful race-around. 

Pulling into the Beach’s garage, she finds her usual parking spot and flips the engine off, pulling the keys free of the ignition. A quiet sigh leaves her, then she forces strength into her legs to get her moving, stepping out of the car. The boys follows after her and she prods at the lock button on the car keys when she’s sure they’re all out and the doors are closed, then hooks the keys back onto her carabiner. 

Walking into the annex, she sees Yukimaru is sitting and waiting at the desk, drumming his fingers on the wood between teams trailing in. Taking the lead with a little more forced pep in her step, Maki walks over to him. Yukimaru smiles as he spies her, perking up, his hands stopping in their tuneless tapping. At her side, Niragi passes his card to Maki to fit into her set then she passes them to Yukimaru. He scribbles it down in his own notebook, one separate from the one Maki usually uses. 

“Weird question,” Yukimaru starts while fitting the pen into the middle crease of the book, “But you guys didn’t happen to see Sumie’s team on your way back, did you?” 

Maki frowns. 

“No, why?” she asks, a seed of concern sown in her chest. 

Yukimaru chews his lip. 

“It’s just … I haven’t seen her - or anyone else from her group actually.” He rubs a hand over his tired face, then mumbles, “I’m sure it’s nothing, I just had a bad feeling.” 

“Go get some sleep, I’ll take over,” Maki says, rounding the desk to set a hand on his shoulder. 

For a moment, he looks like he’ll argue, then he relents and moves out of the seat to let her take it. She sits down, the seat warm, and wrings her hands, stretching her fingers. Another team is already coming through the garage doors, looking a little worse for wear but alive. Niragi’s mouth opens to say something, maybe offer to stay with her and help then — 

“Niragi,” Morizono’s voice cuts in from a few feet to his left. Niragi straightens up, his expression shifting more serious under her brother’s gaze, “If you’re back then get back to work.” 

“Right,” he replies quickly. 

Maki shoots him a quick apologetic look, then she sits up a little straighter as her attention turns back to her work. For a moment, her dark eyes shift towards Chishiya and Yamato, who’re still standing by the desk. Her head tilts slightly at them as the other team comes to the desk front. 

“Kuina will probably be outside,” she mentions as she takes the approaching team’s cards. 

“Right. Thank you,” Chishiya says, slightly stilted at the dismissal. 

Something unreadable crosses his face that she misses while taking down her notes on a new page. He steps back from her desk, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer before turning to walk away as she keeps working. Yamato follows after him. She easily falls back into routine, collecting cards and taking notes. 

Soon the teams start to dwindle and Maki’s only got a few not ticked off on her list. She frowns, noting that Sumie’s team isn’t back yet. Tapping her pen tip on the page, she tries to force down that swell of worry. She jabs a few dark spots of ink, then lays her pen down in the middle gutter, closing the book on it. 

“You’re still working?” comes Ann’s voice and Maki looks up to see her on the other side of the annex desk. She forces a weak smile. 

“I’m just going to wait a little bit longer.” 

“For your friend?” Ann asks, “There’s some teams still missing, aren’t there?” 

Maki shifts slightly at the pitying tone, “I’m sure she’s just little late.”

Chishiya and Yamato head outside through the propped open doors. There’s music playing loud as usual, people partying and drinking and jumping in the pool. Couples are making out on the chairs and in the water. Chishya guides a snaking path through the crowd towards where Kuina is sitting on a poolside lounge. The game hadn’t been overly difficult, mostly physically untaxing for a spades. The stink of cooking oil is still clinging in his nostrils, but the stench of spilt alcohol is coming close to overtaking it. 

Strolling along beside him, Yamato doles out casual greetings as they pass by fellow boarders. Chishiya ignores all of them, not making any eye-contact, practically blind to everything around him as he makes his way towards where Kuina is. 

There’s a pin of frustration stabbing in his chest. 

Any attempts at trying to get closer to Maki tonight had been met with resistance - or rather, distraction. Maki’s attention had always turned to Niragi. The guy has been getting effortlessly in his way. His thoughts snap back to how Maki had pulled out of his grip, how she’d reached out for Niragi without hesitating, how her gaze always fell towards him.

Even now, just minutes earlier, an easy smile had pulled to Maki’s mouth, directed at Niragi. In turn, Chishiya had been met with dismissal, practically hand-waved away before he could even get a word in. 

Kuina greets them with an easy smile. Yamato sits down on the deck lounge, leaving enough room for Chishiya to sit on the end of it. Sitting, Chishiya sets his elbows on his thighs, sighing out a breath, his thoughts still whirring as he mouth twists. His gaze sets onto Kuina. 

“What’s the deal with Makina and Niragi?” he asks plainly. 

“Well, they’re friends, I guess? Apparently, they’ve both been here since the since the start of the Beach so they’re close,” Kuina replies, shrugging. 

“Obviously they’ve got a thing for each other,” Yamato says, rolling his eyes. 

“Sure, but neither of them have actually done anything about it.” She snorts a short laugh, “Aguni would probably kill Niragi if he tried something.” 

Chishiya leans his arms onto his legs, thinking. Niragi gets on his nerves, and now he’s proving to be a problem. If he wants to get closer to Maki, he needs Niragi out of the way, but there’s no easy solution to get rid of him. He hasn’t been here long enough to figure everything out, to find out all the information he can get from here, he still needs time to plan. 

Besides that, only the militants are allowed weapons. If they found out about his taser, it’d no doubt be taken off him and he’d be punished for it. He can’t risk that, not if what Hatter claims is right and the way home is within these walls. 

His runs his tongue behind his teeth. To kill someone, to be so hands-on with it, could he do it? He doesn’t have a gun, the taser wouldn’t be enough to kill. What else does he have at his disposal? It wouldn’t be so easy anyway, made even more difficult by Niragi clear dislike and avoidance of him, and that ever-present rifle he carries around. He sighs. He’ll just have to ignore Niragi and keep his focus on Maki. If he can find a way to put some distance between them, get Maki alone more, he’ll have a better chance. 

Maki waits long into the night, long enough that Morizono comes back down to tell her to go to bed. None of Sumie’s team have returned, let alone Sumie herself. Nobody answers on the walkie-talkie which makes her feel even worse. She manages to talk her brother into giving her one more hour to wait and he sits with her. The hour passes, silent and uneventful. Eventually she gives in and goes to bed, sleeping uneasily. 

She only gets a few meagre hours and wakes early in the morning just as the sun is beginning to rise. Staring at the ceiling, the bad feeling hasn’t gone away. Part of her hopes that Sumie had just gotten caught out in the city for some reason, that she’ll be back soon. It feels too optimistic even as she thinks it. 

Flicking the covers back and rolling out of bed, she crosses towards the window and looks out at the soft glow rising on the horizon. She thinks about going back to bed; she’s tired, but she knows she won’t be able to fall sleep. Instead, she shifts the armchair closer to the window and sits, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Even if no one else is awake and she could have the restaurant area to herself, her stomach is so tightly knotted that she can’t even think about going down to have a far-too-early breakfast. 

Her gaze turns towards the wall connecting to her brother’s room. There’s a childish comfort-seeking part of her that wants to go over and let him tell her that it’ll be alright, even if it’s a lie. She wants to be a kid again. It’s stupid. It hadn’t been easy growing up like they had, but she’d always had him to lean on. He’s always been there. Now she feels like she needs to prove herself to him so he won’t worry, especially with the situation they’re in. She hugs her legs even closer to her chest, setting her chin on her knees. 

When the sky is less dark, the sun finally above the horizon, she pushes up from her seat and gets dressed. Padding quietly out of her room, she heads downstairs towards the restaurant floor to see who else is awake now. She’d been planning, trying to figure out the best way to go about it. 

She can’t talk to Danma, he’ll label them traitors without even letting her explain what she thinks; her brother will probably tell her to let it go, and try to avoid saying they’re dead to not hurt her feelings. That cuts out Niragi and Last Boss too, it’d make Morizono ask questions if they’d suddenly gone off somewhere without telling him. She’d feel too bad sending Yukimaru out; Sumie’s his friend too, if something’s happened to her, she wouldn’t want him to see it firsthand. 

Ann’s teams, she decides eventually. There are fuel maintenance and stock collection teams, others with jobs she doesn’t know much about. A lot of the members she knows by name only, there’s few that she knows more than that. If she catches one of the groups she knows better, maybe she can convince them to help her out. 

It’s just a matter of waiting. She heads downstairs to linger in the seating area by the garage on the ground floor. Thoughts of breakfast falls to the wayside again as she waits. More people eventually trail down. A few say hello to her as they pass by and she returns with polite greetings. 

Eventually, she sees familiar faces and hops up. Hurrying across the room, she slides in to stop one of Ann’s teams before they leave. 

“Uh, Kuina?” The woman looks at her, her surprise fading as she smiles easily, meeting Maki’s gaze. Maki smiles lightly back, hoping her uneasy nerves don’t show through as she grips her hands together, thumb prodding at her ring, “I know you guys are busy, but a team didn’t return last night, I was wondering if you could check it out?” 

Kuina glances back to her small group, the members sharing glances between themselves, then shrugging in their bored agreement. Kuina turns, smiles, and nods to her. 

“We can have a look around. You have a location?” 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Maki thanks her, then recounts to the group where the game’s arena had been. If Sumie’s okay, she’d probably be nearby there or on her way back towards the hotel. Kuina sets a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, then passes by her into the garage. Slowly, the anxious knots in Maki’s gut start to loosen and she exhales a long breath. 

It’s going to be okay, she tells herself, trying to will it into existence. 

There’s nothing more she can do now but wait - and waiting around doing nothing isn’t an option when there’s jobs to be done. 

Maki finds anything to busy herself with. She redoes her notes, she recounts cards, she checks the pools and the gardens and the food stock in storage, she finds Yarita, Joe and Tatta to check in on the cars and what fuel they had. In finding that the fuel reserves are low, she decides to send Yukimaru out with Tatta to gather more. If something bad has happened to Sumie, she wants to be able to compose herself before she has to tell Yukimaru. He seems to get along well with Tatta too, so he makes no complaints and asks no questions when she asks him to go. 

Through the morning, she lingers on the ground floor, waiting for Kuina and her team to return. The anxiety ebbs back in with each passing hour. She knows she couldn’t have expected them to come right back after they’d checked on Sumie’s team, but she wishes that they had so she’d have her answer. She can’t bear to just call them over the walkie-talkie and hear the crackly answer, so she forces herself to wait. 

Eventually, there comes a familiar rumble and she perks up in her spot in the seating area. Clutching her notebook, she stands, shuffling slightly as she waits for them to walk in. Her stomach drops with every person that walks in, none of them from Sumie’s team, none of them meeting Maki’s eye when they see her across the room. Kuina comes in, sees Maki, and compresses her lips in a thin line. 

Maki’s gaze flicks, trying to find any hint of Sumie. Kuina walks over to her. She touches a hand to Maki’s arm, guiding her back to a more private spot in the seating area. 

“Kuina?” She can’t more to say, her mouth goes dry. 

“I’m sorry, but they were all dead,” Kuina apologises gently, obviously trying to soften the blow. She digs around in her pocket, then takes Maki’s hand and presses a set of four tags into her palm. Maki feels herself go cold. 

“Oh.” is all she shakily gets out. 

Pity lines Kuina’s expression as she nods. She squeezes Maki’s hand, and turns to walk off, leaving Maki with her feelings. Stiffly, Maki grips the tags into her palm and forces herself to move. She doesn’t know where she’s going, blindly walking and numb with each step. Somehow, she finds herself out in one of the gardens and she collapses onto the flat raised edge of the garden bed. Setting the tags to the side and her notebook in her lap, she feels tears sting in her eyes. 

She flips through to the back of the notebook and pulls free a folded square of paper. Her lips tremble. She unfolds the page, her watery gaze falling on the portrait Sumie had drawn of her, Sumie’s name printed neatly below. Her breath hitches and she presses the heel of her palm to her eye, smudging a tear away. 

“Makina?” 

She looks up, finding Chishiya standing in front of her. Her gaze flicks away, embarrassed. Quickly, she folds the paper back in half and swipes her free hand across her face, trying to pull herself together. 

“Hi, sorry, did you need something?” she says, clearing her throat to stop the way her voice wavers. 

“Are you okay?” 

He sits down next to her. She swallows thickly, turning her gaze down towards the paper in her hand. Tears gather back into her eyes, stinging as she tries to hold them back. He reaches out to rest his hand on her wrist, an attempt at comforting. A tear escapes, slipping down the curve of her cheek. 

“A - uhm - a friend of mine died last night in one of the games,” she explains shakily. She thumbs at the paper. “Her name was Sumie. She was nice.” Her face crumples, more tears rolling. “We were going to go on a trip together. When we got home.” 

She presses her free hand to her mouth, muffling a sob. Yukimaru jumps into her mind. How is she supposed to tell him? It has to be her that tells him, she owes him that much, she doesn’t want him finding out from just anybody - but before then, she needs to stop crying. She doesn’t want to look like an utter mess when she tells him, she wants to be there for him. She has to be stronger than this.

Chishiya’s hand shifts away from her wrist, moving to rub her back. It’s a small comfort. Her chest aches, she feels like she can’t breathe. The paper crumples slightly in her gripping hand. She curls in on herself, folding over her lap, more sobs tearing up her throat. 

Feeling eyes on him, Chishiya glances up to see Niragi halted in the doorway to the garden. Their eyes meet briefly and Chishiya resists a smirk, instead glancing away and guiding the sobbing Maki into his arms before she can notice Niragi. She clings to Chishiya, her fingers curling into his jacket. 

In his periphery, he can see Niragi storming away. 

Eventually, she calms down. Her sobs slow and she pulls back, sniffling as she wipes her reddened face. She doesn’t know if she necessarily feels better, but she doesn’t feel as bad either, doesn’t feel like she’ll immediately burst into tears when she has to tell Yukimaru. Taking a deep breath, she holds it for a beat, then exhales. Her eyes meet Chishiya’s. 

“Sorry for crying all over your shoulder,” she says, embarrassed. 

Chishiya just shrugs. 

“Don’t worry about it.” His hand runs softly along her arm, his fingertips brush against the soft inner side of her elbow, down along the inside her forearm to the thudding pulse point of her wrist, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

She smiles weakly, “I will be. I have to be, right?” 

Tucking the portrait back into her notebook, she picks up the number tag bracelets and sets them atop the book before she stands. She ignores the spots of blood on the tags, doesn’t look at the one she knows used to be Sumie’s. Looking back at Chishiya, she forces a small smile, then turns her hand to take his. 

“Thank you for sitting with me,” she says, squeezing over his fingers.

“If you need to talk, I’m around,” he replies. 

She just nods shortly, then releases his hand and turns to walk back inside. 

Maki’s office has privacy. It’s the best place to tell Yukimaru, quiet and away from prying eyes. The door doesn’t lock, but it’s better than being out in the more open areas of the Beach. He’s not back from his outing with Tatta yet, so she calls him over the walkie-talkie to tell him to meet her in her office when he gets back. His reply is so cheery that Maki’s stomach twists. 

Again, there’s nothing else she can do but wait. This time, however, she can’t find it within herself to do busy work. Instead, she just goes up to her office and sits down behind her desk. She sets her notebook and the member tags down. Picking one up, she scratches at the dried blood over the numbers with her thumbnail. Her hand shakes a little. Putting it back down, she pulls open the top drawer of her desk and plucks out a pack of wipes. 

One by one, she cleans the tags until they’re pristine. She lines them along her desk, knowing eventually she’s going to have to check her notes and reassign the numbers to new people. As she’s finishing up the last tag, the door swings open as Yukimaru strolls in, his expression chipper. She stands, curving around her desk. 

“Yuki -” she starts. 

“It’s about Sumie - she’s back, isn’t she? I knew she would be, I just get too in my head about stuff. She’s okay, right?” he cuts in, smiling, ruffling a hand through his hair. 

“Yuki …” 

He finally looks at her, at her puffy eyes and ruddy face, then passed her to the lined-up tags on her desk, and it finally seems to click. His expression slowly crumbles, his smile slipping away. 

“No.” His voice cracks a little. “No, she can’t be -” 

She closes the distance between them in a few steps and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. His arms curve around her, tight and clinging. She feels him tremble. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs against his shoulder. 

He clings tighter to her, a sob wracking his body, and she feels tears prickling back into her eyes. She breathes in shakily, blinking back the tears before they can spill. Yukimaru’s body jerks with every hitching breath and hiccuping sob. She pulls him closer, her fingers run along his nape, soothing. 

They stand like that a while longer before Yukimaru’s sobs subside and he slowly loosens his grip, shifting back. She squeezes his arms before letting her hands fall away. He rubs his tear-streaked face, running his hands through his hair to push it back. 

“We should -” his voice is still shaky and he knuckles over his mouth, blinking wetly, “We should still go on the trip when we get back. For her.” 

“Yeah,” she says softly. Reaching out, she takes his hand, “Please just be more careful in the games from now on, okay?” 

He squeezes around her fingers, “You too.” 

She nods tearily, rubbing across her cheeks with her knuckles. He closes his eyes takes a breath, wobbly and uneven, then wrings his hands. When his eyes reopen, they’re tired but more focused. 

“Back to work, right? Those tags need to be reassigned?” he says, his voice more steady. She looks at him, sighing softly. 

“You should take the day off,” she insists. 

“Are you going to?” 

“I -” 

“You’re not, right? Then I’ll stay and help. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this alone.” He motions towards her desk and her pile of notebooks, “Show me what to do. How can I help?” 

She sighs again, knowing she won’t be able to dissuade him now. 

“Okay. Come, sit.” 

The militants often move in the night. If there’s bodies or traitors to be dealt with, it’s best done in the shadows while the regular Beach residents are distracted with drinking and partying. Tonight, there’s a group of four of them, lead by Niragi. He’s been particularly tetchy since catching Maki with Chishiya in the garden. Now he’s being forced to deal with this body instead of going to find her, to make sure she’s okay. 

Last Boss walks along beside him. In front of them, another pair of militants haul along a sheet-wrapped body. This one wasn’t even a traitor, just a player who had been dealt a bad hand in a game. He’d been brought back injured, too badly hurt for Ann to do anything. Niragi’s not sure if she’d wasted any of their medicine on him, but hopes she hadn’t bothered. 

It was obvious he wasn’t going to survive his wounds. Really, he should’ve been left to die where he was, back at the game arena three days ago. At least then the militants wouldn’t have to be dealing with it now. 

As they move down a back hall, carefully avoiding the other residents as they head out to the body dumpster out back, Niragi feels a tingle down the back of his neck. He twitches his head slightly, his mouth twisting, feeling like he’s being watched. Looking quickly back, his gaze tracks over the hall. 

Nothing. Empty. Not even the shadow of a person. 

He frowns, adjusting his rifle on his shoulder. Last Boss glances sideways at him, that questioning look in his eyes. 

“It’s nothing, come on,” Niragi answers, waving for them to keep moving. 

They step out the doors into the dark of the night, the dumpster is waiting off in the shadows. The pair plod along, setting the body down on the ground and trying to stretch the obvious ache out of their arms. Last Boss moves to grab the hook pole and pulls the tarp back from the bodies. Niragi’s nose scrunches at the smell that wafts up. Last Boss is the only one who seems unaffected as the other two gag, grabbing the body and quickly throwing it into the dumpster. Last Boss pulls the tarp back over. 

They trail their way back into the hotel but Niragi’s still curious at that feeling of being watched. Nodding briefly to Last Boss, he walks a short while longer with the group, then makes a quick getaway, slipping away before anyone can notice. Since being here so long, he knows the fastest routes around the Beach. 

Slipping back into the dark outside, he moves along the wall and away from the party, turning around a corner. Then he waits in the shadows. To one side, there’s the dumpster; to the other, the light shining out from the doorway. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for. As the minutes stretch on, he starts to wonder if he’d just been imagining things. 

Then someone steps out, backlit by the lights from inside. Niragi’s jaw sets tightly. Chishiya. Of course it’s him sneaking around. As he watches from the shadows, Chishiya glances quickly around, then he starts to head towards the dumpster. 

Niragi moves then, crossing quickly towards him and putting his rifle out like a barricade across Chishiya’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. There’s only a slight flicker of surprise across Chishiya’s face before his expression settles to dulled indifference. Niragi steps in front of him, turning the rifle to aim the muzzle at his chest, chin tilting down to meet Chishiya’s dark eyes. 

A muscle ticks in Niragi’s jaw. Those fucking eyes. 

“What do you think you’re doing out here?” Niragi asks, his tone sharp. 

Chishiya glances lazily around. His hands tuck in his pockets. 

“Maki didn’t mention out here was off-limits,” he replies smoothly. 

Niragi’s expression twitches at the sound of her nickname from his mouth. He presses the muzzle to the middle of Chishiya’s chest, imagines pulling the trigger, staining that white fabric red. The dumpster is right there. He could roll him right into it. 

Chishiya’s gaze flits between Niragi’s face and the rifle. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, just for a briefness, then it’s gone. Niragi’s finger twitches outside the trigger guard. Chishiya’s brows raise. 

“Is this off-limits? Are you hiding something?” he asks, mock-innocently, his gaze flicking past Niragi to the dark line of the dumpster edge. “I was just getting some air.” 

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Niragi asks lowly. 

A pause, a slight smile, “I am smart.” 

Niragi’s teeth bare, taking a step closer, shortening the distance between them. Chishiya doesn’t even flinch. 

“What game are you playing here?” Niragi snaps. Trying to pal up with Maki, sneaking around, watching everyone from a distance, that glint in his eyes, it all culminates into Niragi not trusting him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” comes Chishiya’s answer. 

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy to figure him out. A guy like Chishiya - like Niragi too, though he’s loathe to admit any similarities between them - keeps his secrets close to his chest; he’s not just going to let anything slip out even under threats against his life. Niragi’s jaw tightens and he jabs at Chishiya’s chest with the rifle, pushing him a step back. 

“Get out of here,” he says dismissively. 

Chishiya, to his credit, makes no argument. He swipes a hand over his chest where the muzzle had been pressed. After casting one last look at Niragi - and passed him - he turns on his heel and heads back towards the door, feeling Niragi’s dark-eyed gaze on him the whole way until he’s inside. 

Chapter Text

Within two days, everything goes back to the Beach’s form of 'normal' and Maki tenses at the feeling that it’s as if Sumie never existed here at all. Her tag is on the wrist of someone else, her room is someone else’s, her sketchbooks and art supplies have been gathered up and stored into a drawer in Maki’s office. In a blink, she’s simply gone. Maki doesn’t even have a body to mourn over, she doesn’t even know how she died. She figures she could ask Kuina, but she doesn’t think she actually wants to know; she wants to imagine it was quick, painless, that she didn’t suffer. 

Maki busies herself over the days, so much so that nobody has a chance to get close to her. She keeps her head down and just keeps moving. The only thing worse than nothing changing is the pity. She can’t stand it, not when it comes from people who barely know her and not from her brother either. Morizono, gratefully, gives her space when he realises she needs it; but she can feel his gaze on her as she hurries along. Niragi, too, seems to worry over her, but she doesn’t slow to let him get close either and eventually she overhears Morizono telling him to leave her be. 

It all builds up to make her anxious when assigning the games for the nights. She lets Ann take the lead, chewing her lip as her eyes move over the lists, wondering what hells she’s sending people into. So many have already died, how many could have been saved if she made a different choice? She knows Ann will tell her it’s all up to chance and to not worry so much, so she stays quiet about it. 

In the end, she’s where she always is. Her desk in the annex. No difference, no change. Like nothing had even happened. 

Her and Yukimaru seem to be the only ones affected by the loss. Yukimaru’s quiet, he seems far away, his mind distractedly elsewhere. They don’t talk as they usually would while collecting cards. She fills in her notebook and he slips the cards into the bag and silent misery weighs in the air surrounding them. Only a few teams had been sent out that night, the people most in need of visas. Thankfully they all return and none seem to notice Maki’s relief as each team trails in. 

Far earlier than other nights, Maki is taking the card bag back from Yukimaru and waving him away so he can try and find some enjoyment in his free time. Looping the bag string around her wrist and tucking her notebook under her arm, she heads to the elevator, taking it up to the eighth floor. Exhaustion weighs on her, too much work done in too little time making her more than simply 'weary'. She’s been having more and more nightmares; red flowers and blood stains and drowning in a sea of cards. 

Trailing down the hall, she pauses as she sees her office door slightly ajar and frowns. She’d definitely closed that before coming down earlier that night, she always did, she made sure of it every time. Could she really be so tired to have left it open? Slowly, she approaches it, shifting her notebook into the hand with her card bag. With her now-freed hand, she slowly pushes the door open, slipping her hand into the gap and along the wall to throw the light on before she pushes inside. 

Across the room, a man is crouched by the locked safe. He whips around, the beam of a small flashlight zooming towards her, turned into nothingness in the new brightness of the room. It takes her a moment to place him, to drudge his name up from the dozens-on-dozens she’d written down over the weeks. 

“Sekine,” she starts carefully, “What are you doing?” 

He lurches upright, unsteady on his feet. His eyes are run through with red veins and underlined with dark circles. 

“Unlock the safe,” he says, his tone unsettling. 

Her stomach turns. She can feel the weight of the ring-of-keys hanging from her belt loop, then her brain registers the weight of the walkie-talkie at her hip. If she calls someone, Sekine will be labelled a traitor. They’ll kill him like they have the others. She doesn’t want to see anyone else dead, especially not here in her office, one of the few safe places she has. Already it feels sullied by him sneaking inside. 

Slowly, she steps towards him, her hands raised to try and calm him.

“You can just go and I won’t say anything. Just go now and nobody needs to know you were here,” she continues, edging closer towards her desk to set her notebook down. The bag stays hanging at her wrist. If he wants the cards, she’s unwilling to put it down. 

“Just open the safe. There’s only a few cards missing now, I can win the rest myself,” he says, stepping towards her. “I just need you to open the safe and give them to me.” 

She takes a distancing, cautious step back. Her hand falls protectively over the keys. Briefly, her thoughts flick to the kaiken in her pocket. She thinks about Iwanuma, dead on the basement floor, blood on her hands and staining into the floor, breathing in the metallic scent that clung to her senses for days after. She doesn’t want to kill him, she doesn’t want blood shed in her office. 

Swallowing thickly, she tries again. 

“Please, just leave.” 

He lunges for her. She barely gets the chance to step back before he’s on her. It’s a struggling wrestle for the keys. She keeps her fingers tightened around them, the metal digging into the soft part of her palm. Distracted in her focus on keeping the keys attached to her, she doesn’t see as one of his hands moves back. 

Suddenly, something collides with the right side of her face and she feels it shatter. There’s an explosion of pain through her temple. She immediately feels dizzy, knocked unsteady. Pens clatter to the ground, bouncing off her desk and landing near her feet. Her pen cup, her brain registers, made of thin ceramic that’s now in pieces. She blinks as something drips into her eyes. 

Blood, she’s bleeding, she realises as she stumbles back. 

His hands grapple at her waistband for the keys, shoving her weakened hands away when she tries to keep her own grip on them. She hears the stitches of the belt loop tear. Her legs give out on her and she only manages to slow her fall by catching the edge of her desk. Sekine shuffles back towards the safe, thumbing through the various keys. 

Sitting on the ground, still blinking through blood, she lifts a hand to her head. Her ears are ringing. She winces as her fingertips bump against the open wound carved at the corner of her brow. Her fingers come back slick and red with blood. Her mind registers Sekine cursing and jostling the lock, not paying attention to her. 

She doesn’t know if she can stand, her legs feel weak. 

Slowly, she feels over her waistband, feels the torn belt loop, tracing along until she finds the walkie-talkie. It takes an effort to pull it from where it’s clipped on, her grip slipping clumsily. Finally getting a hold of it, she draws it up to her mouth, pressing the button. 

“Mori,” she chokes out quietly. She feels tears fill her eyes, her voice a quavering sob, “Mori.” 

Sekine jerks around to face her again, launching himself at her and seizing the walkie-talkie to throw it aside. It clatters across the office floor, out of reach. She hears it crackle, but can’t make out whatever her brother says on the other end. Sekine grabs her arms, his fingers digging in painfully. 

“Which key is it? Which fucking key?” he demands, shaking her. 

“Get off,” she sobs, trying to push him away from her. 

She feels pathetic and weak and stupid, for crying like she is, for not being able to do anything, for needing her brother to come save her and for all his training to have fallen to the wayside in her grief. She should have just called him earlier, she should’ve taken her knife out when he first came at her, she should’ve never walked in alone when she saw the door ajar. 

He shakes her again, his fingers digging roughly in, shooting sharp points of pain through her biceps. 

“Who gave you the right to number us? To say who gets to go home first and who has the wait?” 

“I’m sorry.” And she is. 

She’d never wanted to do it. None of them knew how much she’d worried over it, how much she tried to consider who deserved the higher or lower number. She didn’t know if they would even care if they did know, they’d lay the blame on her no matter what. 

“If you’re sorry, then open the safe.” His eyes are locked on her, his voice is dripping with desperation. 

She hears rapid footfalls coming up the hallway. Before either of them can react, Morizono is charging into the room, followed quickly by Niragi and Last Boss. Her brother takes barely a second to look at them before he lunges forward and tears Sekine away from her. She’s pulled along with him for a beat before his hands finally slip from her arms and she drops back, the red imprints of early bruising wrapped around her biceps. 

Pieces of ceramic crunch under Morizono’s boots as he throws Sekine away from Maki and onto the ground in front of Niragi and Last Boss. Sekine falls in a heap, staring fearfully wide-eyed at Morizono, then back towards the other two militants. Maki hears the hiss of Last Boss’ katana drawn from its sheath, the cocking of Niragi’s rifle. 

“No!” she cuts in quickly, feeling woozy as she twists towards them, throwing a hand up to stop them, “Not in my office. Please. Just get him out of here.” 

Niragi looks at her. His gaze shifts slightly from her’s, to the blood dripping down her face and gathered in her eyelashes. She sees a muscle in his jaw tick, teeth clenching. His hand tenses on his gun, but he lowers the muzzle away from Sekine. Last Boss glances briefly at him, then to her, before he follows suit, sliding his katana away. 

Morizono kneels by her, setting a warm gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“You heard her, get him out of here,” he says gruffly, shooting the pair a look. 

Niragi looks at Maki a moment longer, a brief pain crossing his expression before he forces it down and nods. Last Boss moves to haul Sekine onto his feet, pushing him out of the office into the hallway. Niragi follows him out. When they’re out of sight of the siblings and further down the hall, he lifts his rifle and slams the end into the middle of Sekine’s back, satisfied in how he cries out in shock and pain, then he grabs him by the collar to shove him into the waiting elevator. 

Gently, Morizono reaches for Maki’s chin with his free hand, tilting her head back towards him. She blinks wetly at him, her eye stinging from the blood. His eyes track over her, the blood on her face and then down to the torn loop of her belt. He swallows thickly, his hand squeezing her shoulder. 

“He didn’t - did he …” He looks sick, pauses, his jaw tightening. 

She shakes her head roughly, presses a trembling hand to the rip. 

“My keys. He - he wanted the cards from the safe,” she explains. 

“Okay,” he breathes out, relieved, “Okay. Let’s get you up, can you stand?” 

She’s not sure, but she nods anyway. Shifting into a crouch, Morizono takes her hands and slowly helps her up until she can lean unsteadily against the edge of her desk. Slowly, she closes her eyes and takes a few breaths, trying to force the dizziness and humming pain away. When it mostly subsides, she blinks her eyes open and looks tiredly towards her brother. She lifts her fingers to her aching temple. 

“How bad does it look?” she asks, mumbly. 

He brushes her hair back from her face, tucking the side length of her fringe over her ear so he can get a better look. Leaning closer, he frowns at the split in the tail end of her brow. It’s jagged where the ceramic cup had shattered against her face. He runs his thumb through the streak of blood and she winces slightly, earning a quick apology from him. 

“It might need stitches,” he says finally. 

She groans, her brow scrunching, “I don’t want to bother Ann.” 

“Your head is bleeding.” 

“I’ll just cover it up. I’m sure it’s fine.” 

“You’re going —”

“Is everything okay in here?” A voice comes from the doorway. 

They both snap to look over. Maki’s head throbs at the quick movement. Morizono stands, quickly defensive before he sees that it’s only Chishiya and then he relaxes slightly. Chishiya peers around as he takes a short step into the office, looking at the walkie-talkie still on the ground and the mess of pens and shattered ceramic. 

“I saw you all rushing up here,” he explains, his hands sliding into his pockets, his posture relaxed. His gaze flick across to Maki, tracing over the blood on her face. His head tilts, frowning. He motions to her, saying, “My father’s a doctor, do you want me to take a look?” 

Morizono is still defensively tense, his hand set protectively on Maki’s arm. He glances sideways at her. She shrugs loosely, still not wanting to bother Ann but also knowing her brother won’t relax until someone check her. Sighing, he moves aside and Chishiya steps across to take his place next to her. Morizono crosses his arms, staying close and keeping an eye on him. Chishiya glances back over his shoulder to him. 

“Some space, if you don’t mind?” Chishiya asks. 

Maki shoots her brother as pleading a look as she can manage and he sighs roughly through his nose, moving a few steps back to give them both some room. His boot bumps the walkie-talkie and he leans down to pick it up, forcing himself to focus on it instead. 

Chishiya takes her chin between his fingers, shifting her head more into the light and brushing her hair back. He leans in to check the wound and she feels his breath tickle against her cheek. As his thumb brushes over her temple, her face scrunches slightly. Pulling his hand back, he holds a finger up in front of her face. 

“Follow my finger,” he says, then moves his hand horizontally, one way and then the other, then back again. He does it a few times before letting his hand drop. “Did you pass out at all?” 

“No.” 

“What about dizziness? How’s your hearing? Any ringing?” 

“A little dizzy, but it’s going away. Hearing is … fine, I guess? A little ringing, not for very long though.” 

He nods shortly, “How are you feeling?” 

“Tired,” she shrugs, huffs an unamused chuckle, “Stupid.” 

“You were tired before though, weren’t you? Before the injury?” 

“Yeah.” 

Another nod, “Good. I don’t think you have a concussion and it doesn’t seem like anything’s broken, but that cut does need to be treated. A suture through the widest part there.” 

“Great,” she mumbles to herself, then heaves in a breath as she nods to the other side of her desk. “I’ve got a little medkit, bottom drawer.” 

He steps to the corner of the desk, leans down to pick up the keys from the ground. For a moment, he just holds them in his palm, then he turns and sets them on the desk towards her, moving around to open the bottom drawer and pull the plastic-cased kit out. She picks up the keys by the loop, slipping them into her pocket as he checks through the case. It’s not the most plentiful kit, but he’ll work with what he’s got. Rounding back to Maki’s side, he opens the case to start pulling things out of it. 

Carefully, he starts to clean the blood from around the wound. 

“It looks worse than it is because of all the blood,” he says as he wipes blood from her temple, “but you will probably end up having a scar by the time it heals.” 

She smirks weakly, “You hear that, Mori? We’ll be matching.” 

Her brother shakes his head, but she can see the slight pull of a smile on his mouth, his crossed arms loosening a bit. 

“It’s on the wrong side,” he replies. 

She huffs a quiet laugh, “Mirror image, close enough.” 

Chishiya sets the wipes aside when the wound is sufficiently cleaned and the bleeding slowed, then he carefully threads a suture needle. His gaze turns to meets her’s. 

“Without proper anaesthetic, this is going to hurt, but try and stay still,” he warns. She nods, takes a breath, and he gets started. 

Her eyes water as the needle presses through her skin and she clenches her hands into tight fists atop her thighs, digging her blunt nails into her palms to try and focus on anything else. He works quickly, deft-handed as he threads the needle through and pulls the edges of the wound together with a pair of neat, tiny sutures. Tying the stitches, he cuts the ends of the thread and turns back to the kit to find something to dress the wound. 

When he’s finished, he leans back to look at her, half-sat on the desk. She’s got minimal swelling, the worst of it as far as he can see - besides the actual cut - will be the bruising that already purpling around her eye. He reaches for her face again, feeling over her cheekbone and eye again. She winces a little, but he still doesn’t think she’s actually fractured anything. It was only a cup, after all. His hand pulls away and she turns her face aside, yawning into her knuckles. 

“You should be fine to go to bed now, Makina,” he says, then he looks over to Morizono, “I don’t think she’s got a concussion, but check in on her every few hours. Make sure she’s alert and not dizzy, that she doesn’t throw up.” 

“Thank you,” she says, quirking a slight smile, “For a second time this week.” 

Her finger brush lightly over his knuckles, then she pushes away from the table, standing steadier. Morizono’s gaze sets on her, his eyes search across her face, the white dressing over the wound. His clear relief is edged with that tense brotherly worry she’s all too familiar with. He reaches out, swipes a small smear of blood from just under her jaw that Chishiya had missed. 

“Go to bed, I’ll clean up in here, and I’ll find you a new one these,” he says, turning the walkie-talkie in his hand. 

She nods shortly. Turning halfway, she pauses, then turns back to hug him. His arms fit comfortably around her, solid and familiar and soothing. She turns the uninjured side of her face against the line of his collar. His hand runs along the curve of the back of her head. She breathes out, feeling a little better. Pulling back, she smiles tiredly at him, then turns to head upstairs to her room and the bed waiting for her. 

As much as Niragi would like to take Sekine apart piece by piece, he’s more worried about getting back to Maki as quickly as he can. He thinks about riddling Sekine with bullets, all perfectly placed to cause the worst pain and slowest death; he thinks of letting Last Boss cut his limbs off at he joints one by one until he dies from blood loss. A half-dozen other sick thoughts pass through his mind. Strangulation, beating him until his face is nothing but a red mush of brain matter and skull fragments, burning him alive. 

He does none of it. He finishes it mercifully quick even though he wishes it was painful. Sekine, like the other, cries and begs and Niragi just sets the rifle muzzle against his forehead and fires unhesitatingly. The body falls to the ground, limp, staring blind into the night sky. Niragi ignores him, turns away to leave it for Last Boss to clear away. Last Boss makes no complaint, stepping aside to let Niragi passed and crouching to the side of the corpse. A thought pops into Niragi’s head and he pauses, huffs, then turns back. 

“Don’t throw it in with the rest. Ann wants bodies, give her him,” he says. Last Boss simply nods and Niragi twists away, leaving. 

Niragi moves through the Beach like a storm. He doesn’t slow. People dart out of his path, they shoot out of the elevator when they see him coming towards it. He sees none of them, they’re all just faceless blurs in his way. The elevator feels too slow in its crawl up to the eighth floor. His foot taps impatiently, his fingers squeezing around the stock of his rifle, knuckles white. 

The elevator dings for the eighth floor and he darts through the doors before they’re even fully open. Pace quick, he heads down the hall to Maki’s office and stops in the doorway. 

His eyes cast around the room, an anxious sting rippling through his chest when he sees no sight of Maki. Instead, Aguni is crouched by her desk, carefully picking pens from between the mess of ceramic shards he’s swept into a pile. On the desk sits her walkie-talkie and Niragi’s stomach turns. He’d only heard the whisper of her voice through it. If she hadn’t had it … he forces the thought and the sick feeling that comes with it down. 

Aguni glances up, seeing Niragi standing in the doorway. 

“Has Sekine been dealt with?” he asks, getting up and setting aside a handful of pens as he leans against the edge of the desk. Niragi shuffles slightly, still in the doorway, already wanting to hurry off to find Maki. 

“Yes. Last Boss is clearing up.” His eyes dart around the room again. “Is Maki okay? Her head …” 

Aguni sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. Anybody else and Niragi would think they needed a stiff drink, but Aguni doesn’t drink. His mind flits back to what Maki had told him about their alcoholic dad. 

“She’s …” Aguni seems to struggle to find the right word, “Not fine, but she’s okay. Chishiya patched her up. She’s gone to bed.” 

Niragi tenses, his jaw tightening minutely. His tongue flicks across the backs of his teeth, annoyed. Chishiya. Fucking Chishiya. Swooping in again while he’s out of the room. First in the garden, holding her while she cried, now here, cleaning her up after she was hurt. The urge to move, to rush off and find Maki, is bordering on overwhelming. He needs to see her. 

“Do you need any help here?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady, like he’s not desperate to run off. 

“I’ve got it handled,” Aguni replies dismissively. 

Niragi nods, trying to appear casual as he steps back out of the doorway and turns down the hall. As soon as he’s out of sight, his pace hastens. He needs to see her. As if drawn on a string, he heads towards the elevator, jamming at the circular button until the doors finally open and he steps inside. The ride from eighth to ninth is, thankfully, much quicker. 

Stepping off onto the familiar floor, he steps towards her door. The rifle shifts in his grip and he glances at it, frowning. He doesn’t want her thinking about what he had to do. Taking a few more steps down the hall, he opens his door and sets the rifle inside, leaning it up against the wall. 

Moving back down the hall, he stops in front of her door. His hand lifts and then hovers, pausing. He wants to see her, needs to - but if she’s sleeping already, does he risk waking her? She’s seemed so tired ever since Sumie died, and now she’s been hurt. She needs to sleep, he knows. It’s selfish of him to wake her, isn’t it? He shifts his weight from foot to foot, his fist still raised near the door. 

Enough. He has to be sure. He has to see with his own eyes that she’s okay. His knuckle rap on the door, loud in the otherwise quiet. Standing stiffly as he waits, his heart bludgeons around in his chest. Finally, he hears the shuffle of movement inside the room, then the door opens. Maki’s sleepy face peers at him, her right temple covered by a white gauzy bandage. 

Before he can even think about what he’s doing, he’s taking her face into his hands and guiding her back into her room. Stepping in, he swings the door shut with a fumbling hand, his touch leaving her cheek for only a moment to do so. 

She blinks at him, surprised. Her footing stumbles and she finds her back bumping up against the wall. The only light is the dimness coming from the lamp on her bedside table, barely reaching around the corner into the short entrance hall. 

His dark eyes search across her face, flicking from meeting her querying gaze to her mouth to the covered wound and the hint of bruising curved over her eye socket. 

“Niragi?” she says softly, confused. 

Her hands lift to curl gently around his wrists, her thumb brushing at the beads of the bracelet, slipping beneath it to press against the soft skin of his inner wrist. His breathing catches slightly, swallowing.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you. It should’ve been me, not him. I -” he cuts himself off, his jaw tight. He cradles her head in his hands. His thumbs press against her soft freckled cheeks, his long fingers slipping into her hair. He feel unsteady, shaky. His hands tremble. He can’t find the words he wants to say, they all tangled in his throat, choking. 

She stares up at him, her warm brown eyes searching his. Her ear catches the distinct growl on the 'him'. Her mind proffers Chishiya as a possibility, then the word 'jealousy', but that couldn’t be right. Could it? Chishiya is barely a friend, not even one as close to her as Yukimaru and Sumie. 

He looks back at her, his gaze flickers to her mouth. He wants to kiss to her, but he hesitates. Aguni leaps into his mind. Overprotective and strong and clearly willing to kill if the pile of traitors were anything to go by; his hesitation towards killing so-called 'traitors' having long since waned. His thumb smooths across her cheek, warm and soft. 

Fuck it, he thinks. If Aguni was going to be mad, then he’d be mad. Why shouldn’t he - why shouldn’t they - have what he desires just because Aguni is a way-overprotective brother? He wants to give it no more thought, but he still pauses, his mind still whirling with thoughts. He doesn’t want to piss off Aguni, he doesn’t want to cause trouble for Maki with her brother, not when she has so much else going on — 

Suddenly, the thoughts go quiet as her hand reaches out to cup his cheek. 

Her palm is warm, her fingertips slightly calloused. She pulls him back into focus, his mind slows, the storm settles. Their eyes meet again. 

Wordlessly, she leans in, closing the distance to kiss him.

Calm floods through him. His hands slip and he braces his arms on the wall by her head, almost collapsing into her, melting. She presses eagerly to him. Her hand slides along his cheek, her fingers curling into the length of his hair, drawing him closer. Her lips are soft, moving smoothly against is. 

He wants to stop time here, the warmth of her body so close to his, her soft mouth on his. Peace, finally peace, the world falling away until nothing else exists but her. He feels her fingers touch to the line of his jaw, trailing down his throat, slipping into the open collar of his shirt. Her touch leaves tingles along his skin. His thoughts stabilise, drawing back together, realising he hasn’t taken the chance to touch her at all. 

A fire lights in him. His hands slip down the wall then find her hips, sliding up the curve of her waist, the soft fabric of her shirt bunching against his hands. She’s intoxicatingly warm, the heat of her bleeding into her grip. Her arm curls around his neck, keeping him close to her. His touch trails along her, one of his hands finding her face again. Gently, his thumb runs along the soft curve of her jaw to press on her chin, coaxing her mouth to open wider so he can taste her. Her lips part and his tongue flicks past, into her mouth. 

The need for air eventually becomes too much and they part to catch their breaths. His nose brushes against her cheek. Her hand lays against his nape, her fingers tangled in his hair. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” she murmurs, breathless, a small smile curving to her lips. 

He presses a short kiss to the corner of her mouth, to her beauty spot, to the softness of her cheek. One of his hands falls back to her waist, smoothing down to her hip. Pulling slightly back, his gaze meets her’s. His eyes flick towards the dressed wound and he frowns slightly. She leans in, touching a more chaste kiss to his mouth, an obvious attempt at distracting him. 

“I should be letting you rest,” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Stay,” she says softly, “Just until I fall asleep. My brother’s going to check on me later, but just …” Her hand slips from his hair to the front of his shirt, thumb running over a button hole, “Stay with me, just for a little bit.” 

If Aguni would kill him for just kissing his sister, Niragi’s sure he’d - at the very least - beat him to a pulp if he finds him in Maki’s room. Even so, Niragi can’t find it in himself to decline, not when she’s looking at him like that, that soft expectant gaze. So he just nods, silently agreeing. 

Toeing his shoes off at the corner of the short hall into the main part of her room, he lets her pull him towards her bed. The 'deluxe' rooms are worth the title for the beds alone. His own is the same, but somehow he feels more comfortable in her’s. As he lies down, he can smell her shampoo and the light perfume scent of jasmine flowers and sandalwood. She curls under the covers, her freckled cheek smooshing against the pillow. Shuffling closer to him, she rumbles a sleepy sigh, her eyes fluttering closed. 

He smiles as he watches her. Reaching out, he runs his fingers through her hair, brushing it back. The strands are soft. All of her is so soft, it’s sometimes hard to believe she’s related to the rough-and-muscular Aguni; but then he can see it in some of their expressions, in the downturn of their mouths and their deep emotive eyes, in the way they carry themselves. 

She falls asleep slowly. He watches the way her body relaxes, the tension loosening from her form. Her lips part slightly around dozing, even breaths. He traces his fingertip carefully along the edge of the stuck-down bandage, over the bruised curve around her eye. Frustration twists in his chest, a boiling anger that someone could do that to her. He wishes he’d done worse to Sekine, that he hadn’t let him off so easily with such a quick death. 

He lays with her a while longer, ever aware of the trouble he’ll be in if he’s not gone before Aguni shows up to check in on her, especially if he’s caught in her bed. Eventually, time runs short and he forces himself to move. He gets up, careful not to wake her, and slightly straightens to covers to try to disguise that anyone had been lying there beside her. She shuffles in her sleep before settling again, curling in on herself. He smiles softly and pulls the blankets up over her. 

Grabbing his shoes, he clicks off the table lamp and pads out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He leans against the wall to put his shoes back on, then sighs softly, leaning his head back. His mind runs back to the kiss and he can’t stop the smile that grows across his lips, his tongue rolling behind his teeth as he remembers the taste of her. 

Hearing the elevator down the hall ding, he shoves off the wall and curses under his breath as he hurries into his own room. 

Chapter Text

When Maki wakes in the morning, the side of her head thumps awfully with pain. Luckily, she’d gone the night without nightmares for what feels like the first time in days. Slowly rolling to sit up, she presses a hand to her forehead with a quiet groan. Blinking, her bleary gaze turns around her room. Her eyes pause for a moment on the free side of her bed and a blush heats its way up her throat, remembering what she’d done with Niragi. She touches her fingers to her mouth, her lips curving into a soft smile. It had been so unexpected, but she wasn’t complaining, rather she’s only disappointed in the fact she couldn’t keep him longer. 

A familiar snore pulls her from her thoughts and she looks aside to see her brother sleeping in the armchair closest to her bed, his arms crossed, his head tilted back. Huffing quietly, she shakes her head. His back’s going to be aching from sleeping like that, no doubt his neck too. Scooting across the bed and dropping her legs off the side, she leans over to thump at his knee. He wakes up with a jerk. His surprise quickly gives way to realisation and he puffs out a breath as he rubs a hand over his face. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks, his voice sleep-rough. 

“Just sore,” she replies croakily. 

He motions towards her bedside table and she glances over, seeing the water bottle, a blister packet of pills, and a new walkie-talkie. She plucks up the pills, turning the pack between her fingers, then holding it up in questioning. 

“I got them from Ann, they should help.” 

“I’ll go thank her later.” 

She goes quiet then, putting the pills aside with taking any. Crossing her legs back onto the bed, she pulls the blanket towards her into her lap, thumbing absentmindedly at the soft fabric. Her expression scrunches slightly and she swallows thickly, her chin dropping. 

“Mori … are you upset with me?” she murmurs. 

He frowns. Getting up, he moves to sit on the bed in front of her. 

“About what?” 

Her eyes flutter, her mouth twitching in a frown. When she speaks, her voice is small and slightly wobbly. 

“About not fighting Sekine, about needing to call you to help me.” 

He’d spent all that time training her over the years, she should’ve been able to protect herself but instead she’d just dropped and needed him to come save her. She’d held her own with Iwanuma, in all these games, then last night she’d been utterly useless. Her fingers dig into the blanket. 

Morizono reaches out, crooking a finger under her chin to lift her watery gaze. 

“You were blindsided and attacked, how could I be upset with you?” 

She sniffles quietly, rubs her knuckles against her cheek. 

“I should be tougher, I should be better. He shouldn’t have gotten the upper hand on me.” 

Morizono sighs, quiet as he thinks. 

“Do you want to pick up training with me again?” he offers. 

“You shouldn’t have to be worrying about me with everything else going on.” 

He laughs then and her brows furrow, her mouth pouting. 

“Maki, I’ll be worrying over you every day until I die - no matter what else is going on. You’re my sister.” He reaches out to ruffle her hair. Immediately, she feels like a kid again; her brother always has a way of making her feel like that. “If you’re still tired, stay in bed a little longer - and if you want to start training again, just tell me.” 

She just nods, smiling weakly. 

Taking a breath, he rubs his hand down the back of his neck and pushes off the mattress. Gathering up his shoes and clipping his own walkie-talkie to his belt, he leaves her to do whatever she chooses, whether it be going back to sleep or getting up. He closes the door behind him as he leaves and she hears it click shut. 

Shuffling, she flops back against the pillows, staring towards the blank ceiling. 

Training with her brother again might help clear her mind. She’s been so stressed lately, drawn taut like a rubber band just seconds before snapping. As for the gym at the Beach, she doesn’t think she’s entered it for more than a handful of minutes at a time to talk with Morizono, she hasn’t checked it out much. Her brother’s found more use in it than she has. 

Rubbing a hand over her face, she decides she’s wasted enough time lying there. Getting up, she showers - spending minutes too long under the steady stream of warm water, keeping her bandaged temple tilted out of it - and redresses, shoving her socked feet into her shoes. Popping two pills out of the pack, she throws them back with a sip of water and grabs the replacement walkie-talkie, clipping it onto her waistband. 

Taking a longer drink from the water, she twists the lid back on the bottle and sets it down again before grabbing the blister pack of pills and shoving it into her pocket beside her kaiken and the ring of keys.

With all the time she’s taken getting ready, Ann’s probably awake and in her office now. So that’s where Maki decides she’s heading first. Stepping out into the hall, her eyes turn and linger on Niragi’s door. Part of her longs to walk over and knock and see if he’s there. She thinks about his mouth against her own, the weight of his hands on her and the warmth of his body so close to her own, the feeling of that piercing brushing past her lips. A swirl of heat runs through her, from her core up into her chest, and she shakes her head, trying to force it away. 

Heading down on the elevator, she steps out into the familiar hall and walks towards Ann’s office. Drumming her knuckles on the door, she nudges the swinging door open and walks a few steps in, pausing to look around for Ann. Her eyes fall to something lying on a metal table. It’s covered by a sheet but it looks like … a body? She frowns. It can’t be. Why would Ann have a body in her office? Does she even want to know? 

Taking a step closer, she reaches her hand for the edge of the sheet. Her nose twitches. There’s a smell, familiar in a way she doesn’t want to place. As she’s about to pull the sheet back, the door swings open as Ann walks in. Maki pulls her hand back, meeting Ann’s gaze. Ann’s eyes flick from Maki to the sheet and she takes a step forward.

“Maki, is there something I can help you with?” she asks, setting a cup of coffee down on one of the benches. Maki shoves her hand into the pocket, drawing out the pills and holding them out. 

“Just returning these,” she replies. 

Even if it is a body, it’s none of her business. She has enough on her plate. 

Ann takes the pills, turning them, then her gaze flits up to the covered wound by Maki’s temple. She sets the pills aside and leans her hip against the bench, a curious frown purses her lips. 

“Aguni said Chishiya patched you up,” Ann states, “Mind if I have a look?” 

Maki shrugs and lets Ann wave her towards a nearby stool. She sits and Ann carefully peels the dressing back, using her pinkie to shift Maki’s fringe out of the way. Turning, she pulls a drawer open and digs around inside, plucking a small penlight out. Clicking it on, she shines the light towards the wound. 

“It’s neat work, professional,” Ann muses. 

“He said his dad’s a doctor.” 

“His father might not be the only one. It’d be good to have an actual doctor around here.” She clicks the light off, catching Maki’s gaze. “What did he tell you his job is?” 

Maki pauses, curious, “He said he’s a lawyer.” 

Ann hums, seemingly unconvinced. 

“Perhaps Kuzuryu knows him then.” 

“You’re welcome to ask them both, but I don’t know what good it’ll do. Chishiya …” Maki trails off, humming around a small smile, “Well, he doesn’t seem to be the most social, I don’t think he’d be easy to convince to play doctor around here.” 

“You could ask him.” 

Maki’s brows scrunch, confused, “Why would he listen to me?” 

“Like you said, he’s unsociable, but he sure seems to be interested in you.” Ann tosses the penlight back into the drawer, “First Niragi, now this guy, you sure know how to pick them, Maki.” 

Maki shakes her head. 

“Chishiya’s not interested in me like that.” 

Ann looks at her, disbelieving, “If you say so.” 

Maki lets Ann re-cover the stitches, then hops up to leave, deciding not to give the apparent 'body' any more thought. There’s more things to deal with than things that aren’t her business; besides, she trusts Ann, whatever she’s doing it must be for a good reason. Heading towards the door, she pauses when Ann calls over to her. 

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Ann starts and a sting pinches in Maki’s chest, “And I’m sorry I didn’t realise how dangerous Sekine was before it was too late.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Maki replies, though her jaw is a little tight. 

“He was on one of my teams, I should’ve seen he was going downhill and dealt with it before it became an issue like this.” 

She forces a small smile, nods, then turns to push through the swinging door. 

It’s unavoidable now. She has to go up to her office. Every tinny elevator ding up through the floors slices anxiety through her gut. Stepping out onto the eighth floor, she shoves her hand into her pocket, curling her fingers around the hilt of her knife. 

The chance of someone skulking around in her office a second time is small, like lightning striking twice, but she’s still wary. 

Her eyes track down the hall to her office, and she swallows. The door’s been closed, which is good, but she knows it’s not locked. Stopping at the door, she pushes it open and stands in the doorway, only the toes of her shoes over the threshold. The broken pen cup and cracked walkie-talkie have been cleared away, there’s a pile of pens sitting on her desk and the card bag hadn’t been put away last night. Her gaze flicks around the room. 

Empty. She takes a breath. Of course it’s empty. 

It aches to realise a place that had felt so safe to her now doesn’t. She steps in and closes the door behind her, making sure it’s properly shut and thumbing over the rendered-useless lock. Crossing the room to her desk, she picks up the card bag and empties the cards out onto the table top, checking through them. Luckily, none are missing, so at least she doesn’t have to have a repeat of dealing with Hatter and his accusations of not doing her job well. Sighing, she scoops up the cards and turns to the safe. 

Pulling her keys out, she thumbs through them to the correct key - a tiny, unremarkable thing. Lifting the lock, she looks at the key hole; it’s scratched and dented from whatever Sekine had been doing to try and unlock it. She’ll need to replace it, just like her pen cup. Thumbing over the damaged keyhole, she hums quietly, thinking about how nice it’d be to get out of this place and into the city. Fitting the key into the lock, she opens the safe, setting the cards into their respective places. 

Swinging the safe door closed, she locks it and rounds her desk to sit down. She dumps the ring of keys onto the tabletop, pulling the stack of notebooks towards her and plucking up a pen from the messy pile. Grabbing the first notebook, she flips through it, finds Sekine’s name, and crosses it out with a tidy line before copying his name across into the book of dead members. Her eyes linger on Sumie’s name. She shuts the book. 

Pulling another notebook towards her, she flips to the back page where she’s been keeping a tally of her visas. She’s been picking up games here and there whenever her visas were low; with everything going on, her visas are now especially low. She’ll need to take on another game within the next few days, and hopes for something with a higher ranking so she doesn’t have to play a bunch of aces and 2s to gather a sizeable amount of days. 

Rubbing a hand over her face as she leans back in her chair, she winces as the heel of her palm bumps the bruising beside her eye. Sighing, she flips all her notebooks closed, stacking them again and grabbing her keys. Getting up, she hooks the ring of keys onto her belt loop. She’s suffocating in this place, even just a few hours away from the hotel would be a blessing. It’s been too long since she’s gone driving just for the fun of it. 

A small smile pulls to her face as a memory drifts to the forefront of her mind. Joyriding around with Niragi, the streets of the unlit city and the rumble of the speeding car and his laughter in her ear. It’s still early, surely her brother hasn’t got him working yet, maybe she can steal him away for a few hours. He and Ann are some of the earlier risers around the Beach. Since she hadn’t checked before she’d gone to see Ann, she supposes he might still be down in the restaurant area. 

Taking the elevator back down, she finds herself correct as she spies Niragi sitting at a table, played upon by pale sunlight shining through a window. Leaning in the doorway to the restaurant area, she takes a moment just to look at him. His long fingers are wrapped around a plain coffee mug and his head is tilted slightly back, seemingly away in his own thoughts in the peace of the quiet morning. After a beat, he seems to feel her staring and his gaze shifts her way. 

The moment his eyes fall on her, a smile grows on his face. She smiles back, crossing the room towards him. 

“I was thinking of going for a drive, you want to come with?” she asks, slipping her thumb through the ring of the keys at her hip. 

His smile grows. 

“Of course.” 

They hurry down to the garage, both knowing that if Morizono is around and catches them, he’ll stop at least one of them. The Skyline sits in waiting for her in the park where she’d left it. Nobody ever drove it except for her, she has the only set of keys. It’s been waiting and gathering dust since her last game with the boys. 

Unhooking the keys from the ring, she unlocks the car and relaxes into the familiarly-comfortable driver’s seat, running her fingers over the smooth wheel. She pulls the walkie-talkie off her waistband and drops it into the cup holder. Niragi hops into the passenger side, twisting to slide his rifle into the backseat before buckling in. 

Jamming the key in the ignition and turning it, the car rumbles to life and Maki breathes out, her tension already unwinding. 

Pulling the car out of the park, she swings it through the garage and out onto the street. Over the weeks, the abandoned cars they couldn’t use had been moved off the streets so they could all drive easier without getting blocked. It’s nice not having to dodge around them, Maki thinks as she zips up the street away from the Beach. 

“Did you have a plan or did you just want to drive?” Niragi asks. 

He relaxes into the passenger side, his long legs stretched out as much as he can, his arm leaned on the center console as he glances her way. She drums her fingers on the wheel. She needs a new lock for her safe, a new cup for her pens, probably new pants unless she wants to just sew up the torn belt loop. Simply, she’d just rather not be anywhere near the hotel for a while. 

“Let’s go up to Harajuku,” she says definitively. 

He nods and she grins, her eyes focusing on the road ahead as she speeds up. 

It’s not a long drive to Harajuku, but she has her fun with it along the way, swerving tightly around corners and racing down empty streets, revving the purring engine. She slows the car as they reach the district, pulling up beside the sidewalk of Omotesando by the Hills complex. It’s strange, like it had been the first day. Harajuku - like Shibuya - is desolate, she’s never seen it so empty. It’s an overgrown ghost town like the rest of Tokyo. 

The greenery-lined street has grown wild, the trees branching towards the sky and the walls of the buildings. Turning the key, she kills the engine and pulls the car keys out, hooking them back onto the ring-of-keys. Leaning her arms on the wheel, she flashes an easy smile Niragi’s way. 

“Let’s go walk around,” she says. 

“Lead the way,” he replies. 

She turns to hop out and he pauses for a moment, glancing into the backseat at the rifle. His gaze turns to out to the street, empty. He shouldn’t need it, they should be fine, his hands will be free if he leaves it. Grabbing it, he fits it down to the car floor between the front and back seats. Maki will have her kaiken and he’ll keep an eye out for danger, just in case. 

He gets out of the car, swinging the door shut, and Maki locks it. She turns on her heels, looking down the street as Niragi rounds the car to stand by her side. They’ve got some time, though she wouldn’t be surprised if her brother interrupts them far earlier than she’d like. For now though, the walkie-talkie is silent and they have time. 

And they have privacy. 

She offers a hand out to him and he looks at it. There’s an amused flash across his expression, but he takes it unhesitatingly, his fingertips running along her palm before intertwining their fingers. His hand is bigger than her own, and soft. She worries for a moment, about the roughness of her slightly calloused fingertips and the here-and-there scars and the too-warm heat of her palm, but then he squeezes her hand and the worries slip away. 

The Tokyu Plaza is down the street, and she’s sure there’s a Daiso a little ways around the corner on Takeshita. He lets her pull him along, picking up his pace to match her’s. She tilts her head back, looking towards the blue sheet of the sky. Far over on the horizon, there’s clouds starting to gathering into darkness, the early sign of an oncoming storm. 

“Looks like more rain,” he muses. 

“Well, it is typhoon season - even in this reality, I guess,” she replies, squinting slightly towards the clouds, “The rain will be good for the water tanks though. It’s been a while since the last big storm.” 

Down the street, the Tokyu Plaza rises and her eyes fall to it. The greenery in the terrace is overflowing, falling over the roof edges and hanging against the walls of the building. Part of her doesn’t miss the bustle of a crowd, the quiet is peaceful and she does like seeing the plants growing freely. She wonders what sakura season would look like around here, especially over in Shinjuku Gyoen. It’s a shame they’re too late for sakuras, but they’re not even in maple season either. She frowns at the realisation. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” she starts, and Niragi looks her way, his gaze curious, “We’ve been here in this world for weeks now, but it still feels like mid-July. We should be well into August by now, maybe even September, but …” She shakes her head, “It doesn’t feel close to Autumn at all, the leaves aren’t even turning, everything’s still all green.” 

“You’ve been keeping track, haven’t you?” 

“Not when I first arrived, but at least since my first notebook at the Beach, back when we invited the rest of you guys in.” 

Niragi hums, “That feels like so long ago.” 

She looks down at their interlaced hands, smiles. 

“Like another lifetime.” 

The only time Morizono gets a chance at peace and quiet is his morning run. He can find some spare alone time in the gym or waste away a few extra hours in the morning and night in his room, but with the amount of people at the Beach now, he seldom gets a chance to be completely alone without someone coming around to bother him for something. The emptiness of the city is peaceful. Quiet. All he has to think about is his feet hitting the ground, about moving forward. After what had happened to Maki, he needed the time to clear his mind. 

He slows to a stop to take a breather. Glancing around, he notes he’s come quite a way from the hotel. He’ll need to start making his way back, he needs to check that Maki’s still doing okay, that there’s no more 'issues' happening around the Beach. Already, with just the thoughts, he can feel the weight of it settling onto his shoulders. Danma called it 'paradise', but he seems to be the only one of them enjoying it. 

His ear perks to a sound, pulling him from his thoughts. It’s a quiet rhythmic thumping that echoes in the emptiness of the streets. He steps over to the sidewalk corner to the track the sound. Glancing around, his gaze soon falls on a young woman. There’s a far enough distance between them that she doesn’t notice him as she jogs along. She’s focused, and postured like someone who trains frequently. Something about her is familiar, but he can’t place it and she’s soon disappearing past a building. 

Shaking it off, he turns to start back towards the hotel. 

He relishes in the last minutes of peace. As he gets closer to the Beach, he can already tell more people are awake and moving around. Turning, he heads through the garage instead of the front doors. Yarita is up and working on the engine of a car, offering a casual wave to Morizono, that he returns. He passes by the familiar rows of cars before pausing at an empty parking spot. 

Maki’s Skyline is missing. 

There’s a quick sting of worry before he calms himself. He knows she’s the only one with the keys. He doubts anyone would be cocky enough to hotwire and steal it, which means Maki’s gone off somewhere and he doubts she told anyone either. Hopefully, she’s at least taken her walkie-talkie with her this time. Heading inside, his gaze falls towards a small group of militants. Among them is Last Boss, but there’s no sight of Niragi. That concerns him even more, since the two are usually attached by this time of day. 

Huffing around a frown, he heads towards the elevator and presses the button. Stepping inside, he jabs at the circle button for the ninth floor. His room is the first off the elevator and he heads into it, immediately going for where he’d left his own walkie-talkie. 

He thumbs at the button, pulling the speaker to his mouth. 

“Maki, where are you?” 

The walkie-talkie crackle at her hip and Maki rolls her eyes, but a brief touch of amusement flits to her expression. It had taken longer than she expected of him. She’d thought he would’ve caught her on the drive over. Maybe he had gone out for his morning run after all and she and Niragi hadn’t had to rush to leave. 

Having finished up shopping already, she and Niragi are sat up on a bench in the overgrown terrace of the Tokyu Plaza, surrounded by so much greenery they can barely see the walls and windows. There’s a splay of bagged snacks spread either side of them and a couple heavy-packed shopping bags at their feet. Crunching a langue roll between her teeth, she plucks up the walkie-talkie, feeling over the side with her thumb to find the button. Niragi eyes her, slightly nervous, a chip hovered halfway to his mouth. 

“Just went out for a drive,” she replies. 

A pause. 

“Did you take Niragi with you?” 

There’s that tone of his again. Judgy and protective and older-brotherly. She rolls her eyes, presses the 'speak' button again. Niragi bites the chip, chewing quietly as he listens. Warmth from where his knee leans against her’s bleeds through the fabric of her pants. 

“Would you prefer if I went alone?” 

She can practically see the expression on his face, that long-suffering sigh that he’s no doubt rumbling out right now. 

“How’s your head?” 

“I feel fine, Mori. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

She can sense the reluctance in his pause, the way he probably wants to tell her to come back now. Some part of him wants to give her freedom but the other part doesn’t want to loosen the leash. She knows he worries, no matter the situation, and that feeling is undoubtedly worsened now by what had happened to her. At this kind of distance, she’s too far away for him to come quickly and protect her if she calls, they both know it. 

“Okay,” he relents finally. 

She sets her walkie-talkie aside, picking up her half-finished bag of biscuits. Digging around inside it for an unbroken one, she leans back slightly, crossing her legs at the ankles. She supposes she shouldn’t have hoped to have the day for herself without interruption. At least she’s out of the hotel, so her work there is on pause, and she hasn’t thought about any of it since being out here. A gentle breeze blows through the terrace, rustling the plants and brushing through her hair. 

“It feels apocalyptic out here, doesn’t it?” she muses, “Would be nicer without all those damn games though.” 

Niragi sucks chip seasoning off his thumb, then hums. 

“I don’t know about that,” he replies. She glances at him with a slight squint of confusion. His head tilts, a flash in his dark eyes. “If it weren’t for the games, I wouldn’t have met your brother back then. I wouldn’t have met you.” A smile grows across his mouth, “It seems worth it for that.” 

She feels a flush up her throat, reddening her cheeks. 

“Right, well, I guess that’s one good thing,” she replies, flustered. 

She tilts the last of the biscuit crumbs in the bag into her mouth, distracting herself from the heat of his gaze on her. In her periphery, she can see the quirk of his smile, a shiny flash of his piercing as his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. That familiar wanting heat coils low into her gut. His knee bumps against her’s again. 

Still smiling, he gathers everything into one of the emptier bags and loops them onto one arm before standing. He offers his free hand to her. 

“Come on, we should get back before Aguni worries more,” he says. 

She nods, taking his hand and letting him help her to her feet. They make their way downstairs through the empty plaza. She clings to the peace, trying to paint it into her memory, something she can think of later when things are rough. The quiet air, the gentle light through the windows, the green of the plants and the little flowers, Niragi and his smile and his hand, the sweetness of the chocolate and the biscuits she’d been snacking on. 

She has to let go of his hand as they get closer to the car and she pulls the keys off the ring, unlocking the car. Niragi loads the bags into the backseat, swinging the door closed before he hops into the passenger seat. Getting into the driver’s seat, Maki drops the walkie-talkie back into the cup holder and fits the key into the ignition, but she doesn’t turn the engine on. Her hands set on the wheel, then she pauses, a thought popping into her mind. 

“You know, I didn’t say when we’d be coming back,” she says. 

“Do you want to take the longer way?” he asks, shifting in his seat. 

“I have something else in mind.” 

Planting her hand on the center console, she boosts herself up and over it, landing herself in Niragi’s lap. He blinks in surprise at her, the seatbelt he’d been grabbing to plug in slipping from his fingers. Her hands find his cheeks, one thumb running along the soft curve. She catches her bottom lip lightly between her teeth, her gaze running across his face. A smile twitches to his mouth, quickly catching on. 

“Come here,” he murmurs as he leans in to kiss her. 

His hands fall onto her thighs, sliding up them to grab her hips and pull her closer to him. She smiles against his mouth. One of her arms wraps around his neck, her other hand runs over him, taking her chance to touch him. This, she wants to commit to memory; his touch and his taste and the thump of his heartbeat under her hand. His fingers run along the strip of skin between her waistband and the cropped hemline of her shirt. One of his hands slips under her top, smoothing up the line of her spine; his fingertips run over the hemline of her sports-bra. 

His touch is electric along her skin. It’s been too long since she’s been touched like this. She leans into him, relishing in the closeness. Her own hand slides up his chest, running up the side of his neck. Walking her fingers along, she curls them into the hair at his nape. She risks a short tug, pulling on the long dark strands. Immediately, his fingers squeeze her hip and he purrs a heady moan against her lips. 

She breaks the kiss, pulling back with a grin. His tongue runs along his bottom lip and a non-small part of her wants to chase that piercing, but she’s got something else in mind. Her free hand moves to catch his cheek, her thumb tracing along his jaw before she tucks it under his chin. She presses a short kiss to his mouth, then to the line of his jaw; with the thumb under his chin, she nudges his face up and darts in, her mouth pressing over the bob of his adam’s apple before trailing to the side of his neck. 

She feels him shudder slightly, feels his fingers slide under the hem of her bra, his palm flattening against her back. His head tilts up further, giving her more space. She flicks her tongue across his pulse. He inhales a sharp breath, then squeezes her hip, smoothing his thumb along her skin. 

“If you leave a mark, your brother’s going to kill me,” he murmurs, his mouth leaned closer to her ear. She smiles against his skin. 

“I think you overestimate how much Mori notices.” 

“I think you underestimate him.” His fingers tap against her spine. “He noticed the bracelet.” 

She chuckles lightly and runs her teeth across his pale skin in a soft bite. He jolts, sucking in a sharp surprised breath. She pulls back to meet his eyes, tracing the pad of her thumb along his jawline. 

“Fine.” She presses a short kiss to his lips, “What about where he can’t see then? What about here?” Her fingers run down the side of his neck, ducking under his collar, then slipping down the middle of his chest, plucking at a button. “Or under here?” 

His arm curls around her waist, pulling her closer, drawn flush against him. Her heart hummingbird-flutters in her chest so quickly she wonder if he can feel it. There’s a smirk on his mouth, his eyes flicking across her face. The tip of his nose bumps her’s. 

“I think you just want to leave marks,” he muses. 

She closes the short distance to kiss him. He nips at her bottom lip, a strike against a thrilling flint in her chest, the heat of a spark. She pulls back, putting only the slightest breadth of distance between them, their breaths mingling.

“Just one … or two. Or a handful.” Another kiss. 

Before she can say - or do - anything more, the walkie-talkie in the cup holder crackles wordlessly. She glances down at it and puffs her cheeks, pouting at the interruption. Scratching her nails against his nape, she looks back to him. He kisses her pout, letting his hands slip down, resting on her thighs. 

“We should be getting back, right?” she murmurs, partly disappointed. 

“Right.” 

One last lingering kiss, then he helps her shift back into the driver’s seat. She straightens her shirt, brushes her hair back over her shoulders, then reaches for the keys to start the car. As she pulls away from the sidewalk, she feels her mind already creeping back to jobs that needed to be done around the hotel. She shakes them off, putting her focus back on the comforting rumble of the car and Niragi sitting beside her. 

Chapter Text

Yamato is a night owl, he always has been. His 'mornings' are, in actuality, middays. Here at the Beach, that works in his favour. The games happen at night when he’s at his best, and the parties run long towards midnight and the pre-sunrise hours. By those late times, most people around here are long past simply drunk and their lips are loose. Secrets are easiest to draw out in the very earliest hours of the morning, just after midnight. 

However, that means that he hates mornings and being woken up before the sun is high in the sky. He’s pulled out of dreamland by the sound of the door swinging open and then closing. Groaning, he scrubs his knuckles into his cheek, groggy as he sits up in bed. His vision is blurry as he blinks away his exhaustion. 

Chishiya walks further into the room, pulling things from his pockets that he sets on the small desk in their room. More tools no doubt, he thinks. The guy has a habit of tinkering, like his makeshift taser and the cheap walkie-talkie radios he’d rewired for the three of them. He’s been gather more things to mess around with, all in the privacy of their room and away from the watching gazes of the militants and Hatter’s people. 

“Weren’t you going to see Makina? About her head or whatever?” Yamato mumbles out. He’s a little bit hungover and grimaces at the thin bright beams of sunlight coming through the curtains beside his bed. 

“She’s gone out with Niragi,” Chishiya replies as he sits on the edge of his mattress, loosely crossing his arms. His gaze runs along the things he’d collected, small tools and wires and things Yamato can’t name off the top of his sleep-addled head. 

Shifting the blankets aside, he shuffles down to sit at Chishiya’s side, dropping his legs off the side of the bed, the ground is cool beneath his bare feet. He rubs at his eyes, forcing the exhaustion away even though he’d rather just go back to sleep for another few hours. His shoulder bumps Chishiya’s as he leans slightly against him. 

“Do you want to hear what I’ve found out then?” he offers, trying to calm whatever planning-whirlwind is swirling in his head. 

Chishiya looks at him, his gaze flicking over his face. A slight smirk pulls on his lips, a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. Reaching out, he runs his fingers through the sleep-mussed side of his dark hair, neatening it. Tingles run along the side of Yamato’s scalp and he swallows down the feeling, hiding it away. He leans his elbows onto his legs, setting his chin onto his upturned palm. 

“So, this girl told me that there this security room up on the eighth floor with a bunch of working cameras that show, like, pretty much everywhere around this place,” he starts, “It’s not used much and it’s kept under lock-and-key by Makina and Ann, and 'regular' members like us aren’t allowed in there.” 

“Could be useful,” Chishiya muses, “It’d be worth checking out to see where the cameras are, if there’s any blind spots.” 

“That’s what I was thinking. So if Maki decides to go out on another little adventure like today, we should be able to sneak in. Kuina can distract Ann,” he stretches his neck, running a hand over his shoulder, “Y’know, I pretty sure she’s got a thing for her - Kuina for Ann, I mean. Might be trouble if she starts talking about what we’re doing.” 

“Kuina’s on our side.” 

“For now, but if she and Ann get closer, she might want to bring Ann into this to save her too - and I don’t know that Ann won’t turn us in.” He sighs, “Listen, I like Kuina, I do, she’s fun and she’s useful here, and I feel for why she wants to get home so badly, but it’s you and me, remember? That was the deal - the promise.” 

“I remember, but Kuina’s been loyal up until now and we still need her, so don’t go writing her off just yet.” 

There’s a greediness in Yamato’s chest, a selfishness. He wants Chishiya to himself, he wants all of his attention. There’s a large part of him that wants to drag him in, to kiss him, to pull him further into bed. Forget Kuina, forget Maki, forget this place entirely so it’s just the two of them, if only for the moment, if only for an hour. 

Chishiya brushes his hand over Yamato’s shoulder, running his thumb over the scar there. It’s healed up now, oddly quickly, affected by the strange time-warping of this reality. He glances towards it, the smooth pinkness. 

“Not so bad, huh?” Yamato murmurs. 

“It could have been worse.” 

“Better a scar than dead, right?” A smile quirks the corner of his lips, “And I had a pretty good doctor too, made it out with a nice scar instead of a gross jagged one.” 

His thumb slides smoothly over the scar again. Yamato leans against his touch. Chishiya’s gaze flicks up, meeting his own. Yamato’s heart thumps. 

“Promise me again,” he requests softly. 

Chishiya seems to understand what he means immediately. 

“You and I are making it out of here together.” 

Yamato’s eyes search him, looking for those telltale lying signs, a flicker of anything. He sighs quietly, relieved to find none, and nods. 

“Yeah. You and me.” 

After parking the Skyline in her usual parking spot, Maki hops out and takes the bags from the backseat, hooking the handles over her forearm. Niragi picks his rifle up from between the seats, letting it hang at his side as they head towards the door to inside the hotel. He puts a carefully step of distance between them, just a fraction of deniability. As expected, when they walk inside, Morizono is waiting for them - or rather, for her. 

He stands from where he’d been sat on a couch in the seating area, heading towards her to take the bags from her. She lets him take some, while keeping the rest to herself. Nodding a short goodbye to Niragi, he smiles lightly back at her then moves around Morizono, leaving the siblings alone. 

Morizono waves her ahead to lead the way and she relents, turning her gaze away from where it had been following after Niragi and walking towards the elevator. She prods the circular button, the door dinging as it opens and they step inside. The doors close, the elevator starting to move up. Morizono lifts one of the bags, looking at it. 

“Where did you go?” he asks, managing a casual tone. 

“Harajuku,” she replies, leaning against the wall. She sighs quietly and closes her eyes, leaning her head back, “I just wanted … some peace.” 

She misses the guilt that crosses her brother’s expression. He shuffles, swallowing as he tries to figure out something to say, something that could comfort her, an apology that could matter. Instead, she shrugs off her own thoughts, tilts her head back up to look at him. 

“I thought about what you said, about training again,” she starts, “I think it’d be a good idea, I’ve been slipping lately. In a world like this, it’d be bad if I completely lost my touch. We could start again tonight, when everyone else is out at their games, I can push my own to tomorrow night.” 

“How many days do you have left?” 

“Enough to push it back a day.” She picks at the handle of one bag, “I’d feel more confident tomorrow if I have a chance to work with you, even just for a night, okay? If I’m going to run into a spade or a club, I want to feel on top of my game.” 

“Okay, if you’re sure. Meet me in the gym after everyone heads out.”

“Right.” 

They fall into quiet again until the elevator dings and they step out, heading down towards Maki’s office. She’s relieved to see the door still closed as she’d left it. Pushing it open, she heads inside to put her bags down on her desk. At least one is full of new stationary products, anything to try and get her mind off what had happened in here. 

When she glances over her shoulder, she sees Morizono still standing in the doorway. His gaze is flicking around the room. There’s something unreadable in the pinch of his expression. She frowns slightly. 

“Mori?” 

His eyes snap towards her. He shakes whatever thoughts had been running through his mind and walks towards her to set the bags down. Curiosity creases her face, but he still says nothing. He meets her gaze for a moment, then his eyes flick to the bandage. Reaching out, he smooths the taped edge of it down against her bruised temple with his thumb. 

“Looks worse than it is,” she comforts. 

He nods. His hand pats her shoulder. 

“I’ll see you in the gym later.” 

He leaves her alone, closing the door behind him, and she starts to unpack. 

Out come new notebooks, set onto the side of her desk for when she needs them; then packs of new pens, in a range of colours and nib thicknesses, she swipes all her old pens into the small bin beside her desk; a new pen cup, smooth blue glazed ceramic, set down to replace the old one, she picks pens out of their packaging and fills the cup; she unpacks the rest into a plastic desk organiser, sticky notes and a mini box cutter and kitschy erasers she couldn’t resist grabbing. Anything that makes her feel better, that makes the office feel comfortable and safe and her’s again. 

When she’s happy with all the new stuff, she moves to the safe. Unlocking and unhooking the old lock, she throws it into the bin along with the key. Digging around in one of the bags, she pulls out a new padlock and key. Pulling open the door to the safe, she checks the cards inside, quickly swiping through the separated-by-suit decks. Satisfied, she closes the door and hooks on the new lock, clipping it shut. Looping the new key onto her ring-of-keys, she breathes a quiet sigh of relief. 

Everything is put in order, everything is in its place, a pretty layer of paint over the memory of what had happened. 

She folds up the empty bags, drops them into the bin, then grabs the bag of new clothes to take it up to her room. As she heads out into the hall, she sees Yukimaru hurrying down the hall towards her. She jolts in surprise as he drags her into a tight hug. Blinking, she holds her bag aside and wraps her free arm around him, hugging him back. He pulls back and grabs at her face, her cheeks cupped into his warm palms. Moving her head around, he turns her face to look at the bruising and the bandage. 

“God, Maki! First I lose Sumie, then I hear that you got attacked in your office and then - then! - you just run off this morning without saying anything? I’ve been worrying all morning!” he complains, giving her cheek a quick pinch before he drops his hands. “You’re okay, right? Really okay?” 

The confusion in her expression softens. 

“Yuki …” she says, touched by his concern. She smiles and nods, “Yeah, I’m okay. Really okay.” 

By sundown, Maki watches the night’s players leave, cheering on their way out after Hatter’s usual speech. Hatter swishes past her as he goes to leave and she catches the stench of alcohol. It makes her stomach turn and she breathes out roughly through her nose. He doesn’t even glance her way. She shakes it off. Whatever, what does it matter to her if he wants to spend every night drunk and every day hungover? 

Turning from the balcony, she walks away. Her brother’s waiting and she’s in need of that promised training session. She doesn’t frequent the gym, in fact how many times she’s been there wouldn’t fill two hands, but she knows where it is. By the time she makes it there and pushes through the glass doors, Morizono is already waiting. It’s a familiar sight, seeing him stretching. He glances back and sees her.

“Come on, I know you haven’t forgotten everything,” he says, waving her over. 

She takes a readying breath. She should have know he wasn’t going to take it easy on her. Training like this is something he’s always been intense about, he’s been a brawler for as long as she can remember. Walking further into the gym, she takes off her walkie-talkie and her ring-of-keys, pulls her kaiken out of her pocket, puts everything down on one of the benches. She pulls her hair back into a low ponytail. 

Even if he clearly isn’t going to take it easy, he’s at least patient with her as she stretches. He takes her hands, wrapping them for her, then aims her towards a punching bag. It’s familiar, the weight of him watching beside her, guiding her on, adjusting her stance and the set of her wrist. As she gets into it, she can almost forget where she is. Her fists knock into the bag, running ripples up her arms with every punch. She lets the everything else fall away, the hotel and the games and those that are dead. Sweat beads over her skin, dripping down her forehead and along her nape. 

Eventually, he taps her shoulder and she falls back a step from the bag, taking a breath. She drags her knuckles across her damp brow. Her tongue swipes across her panting mouth, tasting the salt of her sweat. He walks away from the bag and she turns, following him with her gaze. He plants his feet, looks back towards her, waves her towards him. 

“Grab your knife,” he says. She quirks a brow at him. 

“Really?” 

“You should know how to use it properly. You hurt your arm back then, didn’t you? Against Iwanuma?” 

She rolls her shoulder back, remembering the ache, the bend in that old knife from the force of her own attack. It had been pure desperation, just anger and raw emotion spilling out of her. She remembers the warm thickness of blood on her skin, staining up her arms, splattering across her face; she remembers washing it out of her hair, scrubbing her skin raw until it stung and the water ran cold.

Moving across the room, she stretches out her fingers, unwrapping her hands and dropping the wrap onto the bench beside her other stuff. She picks up the kaiken. It’s a comfortable weight in her hand, it has been ever since it was gifted to her. She can spin it, wield it to her advantage, threaten with it. She thinks of that woman’s face at the school in Chiyoda, the blade up against her throat. She’d felt powerful then, confident. 

Sliding the sheath off, she sets it back down on the bench and spins the knife in her palm. It’s a casual twirling movement that she makes look easy. She turns back and steps towards Morizono, stopping the hilt in her palm, fingers curling around it, letting her hand fall loosely to her side. He eyes it. 

“Where did you get that anyway?” he asks. 

She turns the knife, watching the lights sheen off the blade. 

“Last Boss,” she replies with a small smile, “He said it was for self-defence.” She spins the knife again. “He’s not so bad, you know, he can be nice. Him and Niragi.” 

Morizono huffs, “You’d think wolves chewing off your feet are 'nice'.” 

He steps towards her, grabbing her wrist to check her grip on the hilt then makes a short approving sound. Shifting to her side, he starts to lead her through movements. He tries to keep it slow, keeping a close eye on her and her form. Instead, she picks it up quickly, light on her feet, her gaze focused on an invisible target. The blade slices through the air, a glint of thin silver catching light. 

After a while, he steps off to the side to let her move on her own. She slashes, throwing jabs, twirling through different grips. Eventually, he holds a hand up and she slows herself down. 

“Okay, let’s take a break, come on,” he says, patting her sweaty bicep as he passes her towards one of the benches. 

She follows after him, plucking up the sheath and sliding the blade into it, turning it in her hand as she sits down. He passes her a water bottle from beside the bench. She puts her kaiken down at her side and quickly gulps down a few mouthfuls of water, her thirst catching up to her. Setting the base of the water bottle on her knee, she breathes out. 

His gaze flits over her, takes in that rejuvenated aliveness in her eyes, the mess of her hair slipping out of her hairband. It’s been a long while since he’s seen her so relaxed, lately she’s been so tense, so tightly wound that he could practically see her hands shaking. She’s put too much weight on herself, too many jobs to upkeep that she refuses to pass off. 

He brushes his hand over her head, smoothing down tangles in her hair. 

“We need to talk,” he starts. She rolls her eyes. 

“If this is about Niragi again —” 

“It’s not, it’s about you.” 

She looks at him, confusion creasing her expression. He takes a steadying breath, knowing she’s not going to like what he says next. 

“If Danma is right about the cards, when we finish the first deck, I want you to go home first.” 

She jerks, sitting up straighter, “What? No.” 

“When I heard your voice on the radio, you have no idea how worried I was to think I might not get to you in time, that I would find you dead,” There’s tension in his jaw, trying to hold back any shakiness escaping into his voice. “I know you’re not a kid anymore, but you’re still my sister. I need you to be safe, I need to know you’re safe.”

A pained expression pinches her features. 

“You can’t expect me to just leave you here - and we don’t even know if the cards will work! And Hatter will never agree to it!” she argues. 

“I will talk to Danma about it.” He can see her raring up to say more, “This is not up for discussion. When we get the rest of those cards, you’re taking them if I have to put them in your hands myself.” 

“That’s not fair, you don’t get to just make that choice.” 

“I’m your brother, it’s my job to protect you.” 

“By sending me home? Alone? Where I’ll spend everyday worrying about you, not knowing if you’re still alive here? We’re supposed to be a team, you can’t just decide things for me.” 

“Makina —” 

“No. We have to figure something else out. If the cards actually work, then -” There’s a desperation in her tone, her mind whirling to find some perfect answer, “then we’ll wait. We’ll wait until we have two decks, and then we’ll leave together.”

He looks at her and she stares back at him, a kind of pleading in her eyes. 

“I can’t just leave you here, I won’t,” she says. 

She swipes a hand across her face, sucking in a shaky breath and her eyes squeeze tightly shut. This wasn’t how this night was supposed to go, anxious tension already seeping back into her muscles, tight across her upper back and neck. Pulling her hair out from the hairband, she runs her hands through it and then ties it back again, tighter. Opening her eyes, she thumps her fist into Morizono’s bicep and she stands up. 

“Come on, let’s go again. I’ve still got some time before I have to go down to collect all those stupid cards,” she says, huffing. 

Maki attributes the exercise as why she sleeps easy that night. As she sits up in the morning, there’s a familiar ache through her body, down along her arms and her back. She stretches her fingers out, rolling her wrists. Twisting at her waist, she stretches her back, breathing out a sigh. Despite the hour, it’s still strangely dark. Slipping out of bed, she heads for the window and pulls the curtain back. Outside, the clouds have grown fat and dark as far as she can see across the city, the sun is barely able to pierce through them. 

There’s no way it won’t rain today, it’s just a matter of when. 

Fixing the curtains open, she turns away to head for the bathroom, flicking the room lights on as she passes them. She scrubs the sleep from her eyes with a yawn, clicking the bathroom lights on. Stepping towards the counter, she slips her rings and bracelets back on. A frown pulls at her mouth as she looks down at the numbered tag, but she just huffs and slides it on. 

Her gaze turns as she looks at herself in the mirror, eyes pausing on the gauze. Reaching up, she peels the taped bandage off, wincing slightly as it tugs on her skin. She throws the bandage away into the small bin on the counter. The wound is red, but healing, scabbed over as the skin knits itself back together. She can make out the stitches through the widest part. There’s a chunk carved out through the tail end of her brow. When it finally scars, she doubts the hairs will grow back. She prods at one healing end of the wound. It’s still sore, but not unmanageably so. 

Turning her head, she looks at the other scar, the one that feels like it’s been there her whole life. It feels like she could’ve been born with it, she can barely remember days when she didn’t have it. She runs her finger along it, where it disappears past her hairline. 

Looking at herself head-on, she exhales quietly. What’s one more scar? 

Taking her keys and walkie-talkie, she heads downstairs to her office. She’s slept in a little bit, just enough that she can tell there are others awake. For now she’ll take her time on the upper floors, wanting to avoid whatever crowds are downstairs until she’s more awake. At least it’s still quiet on the upper floors. 

Stepping into her office, she rounds her desk, her hand falling onto the back of her chair to pull it out. She pauses when she notices the card bag is still out on the table. It’s empty, she remembers putting the cards away, but she must have forgotten to put it away. She huffs. That conversation with her brother last night had left her unsteady all the way up until she went to bed. Morizono should’ve know she’s just as hardheaded as he is, that she would never just go along with a plan to leave him behind like that. 

Pulling the ring-of-keys from her pocket, she swipes up the bag and turns to the safe. Unlocking the shiny new padlock, she pulls the door open and folds the small bag in half, setting in inside on the small internal shelf. As she’s shutting and locking the safe, she hears a knock at the door. Glancing over to it, she smiles lightly to see Chishiya standing in her doorway and waves for him to come inside. 

The keys jangle on the ring as she sets them down on her desk beside her various notebooks. She ruffles her fingers through her fringe. He strolls into the office, untucking his hands from his jacket pockets. 

“Thought I’d come check on that,” he says, motioning to her head. 

“The stitches, right,” she says, touching her fingers to her temple. 

She leans against the desk as he steps around to her side, her hands fall into her lap. His dark gaze flicks across her face and he lifts a hand to push her hair back. He touches his thumb to her cheekbone, running softly along the fading bruise. 

“You took the bandage off?” he asks. 

“Just this morning. The tape was peeling off. It’s not bleeding, so I figured it was fine.” 

“And you’ve been feeling okay? No more dizziness?” 

She smiles lightly, “Felt good enough to drive, good enough to work out.” 

He nods, then leans closer to look at the scabby wound. She glances over him, he’s got long lashes and the small spot of a freckle beneath his eye; his eyes are a deep shade of brown, not quite the dark inkiness of Niragi’s, but still quite dark. He’s not unattractive, she notes absentmindedly, just different than Niragi, a kind of sharpness to his features. 

His gaze flits, meeting her’s. He pauses, then his fingertips trail down the soft curve of her cheek, catching underneath her chin. She tilts her head, curious at the flicker in his eyes. 

Leaning in, he kisses her. 

She freezes in surprise. His fingers curl under her chin, tilting her face up, his thumb sliding over her jaw. Subtly, his eyes half open and downturn towards her desk where the keys sit. Carefully, he reaches past her and quietly grabs the keys, quickly tucking them into his pocket. Her hand lands in the middle of his chest, pushing him back a fraction, breaking the kiss. 

He takes a step back, blinking. Her hand flits to her mouth. 

“I - uhm -” she fumbles out. 

Chishiya takes a breath, tilting his head, blinks. 

“I … misread that,” he muses, “I’m sorry.” 

She smiles awkwardly, “Yeah - I just - I didn’t …” 

“It’s fine,” he cuts in as she struggles to find the words she wants to say, “I’ll … leave you to your work. Those stitches should stay in for a couple more days.” 

“Right. Thank you?” 

He nods shortly and leaves. Left alone, she winces and presses a hand to her face, embarrassed by herself, a thread of discomfort in her chest. She presses her lips together, still feeling the tingle of his mouth on her’s. She knuckles across her mouth in an attempt to clear the feeling away. Huffing lightly, she turns and drops into her seat, then immediately gets up. Her mind is awhirl. Grabbing one of her notebooks and a pen, she heads back around her desk and towards the door, swinging it shut behind her as she leaves. 

Heading downstairs to the food storage, she flips her notebook open, pen poised at the ready. She can’t focus enough to take inventory. Standing in front of a row of packaged biscuits, there’s a line of various cartoon animals staring at her as she jabs the pen nib against the page. She makes eye contact with a cartoon panda, staring. 

“Maki?” A voice chimes, waving a hand in front of her face. She jerks back, then laughs awkwardly when she sees Yukimaru. “You okay?” 

“Uh, yeah, I just …” she trails off. 

He looks quickly worried, taking her arm like she might fall. 

“Is it your head? Are you dizzy? Did something happen?” 

She chews her bottom lip. If she can’t tell Yukimaru, who else is there? 

“Chishiya kissed me.” 

Yukimaru’s interest is piqued, his worry immediately dissipating, his arms cross and he leans his back against the shelf. 

“I thought you liked Niragi.” 

“I do like Niragi.” 

“But you kissed Chishiya?” 

She shoots a look at him, “Hey - I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me.” 

“You didn’t kiss him back?” 

“No, I pushed him away.” 

Yukimaru hums. His head leans back against the shelf, thinking. Maki closes her notebook, clicking the end of her pen with her thumb. 

“Do you think I should tell Niragi?” 

Yukimaru quirks a brow, “Why?” 

“Well …” Her head tilts slightly, she clicks the end of the pen again, chewing her bottom lip. 

It seems to click and he laughs. 

“You kissed Niragi too?” 

“Two days ago, the night this happened,” she motions to the stitched scar. 

“So when you two went out yesterday …” he laughs again, “Guess you really were 'joyriding'.” 

She thumps a punch against his bicep, feeling an embarrassed blush spreading across her face. He feigns injury, rubbing a hand over his arm, but he’s still chuckling. 

“We weren’t hooking up, we were just … kissing.” 

“Guess your brother doesn’t know, huh?” 

“No, so keep your voice down.” 

He chuckles again, the smile staying. 

“Okay, okay.” He hums quietly, thinking, “Well, I don’t think you should tell him - Niragi, I mean. Unless you want Chishiya to catch a bullet.” 

“Of course not. It was just … a miscommunication, I guess. He apologised. I just … I needed to tell someone, you know?” 

“Just call me 'confidant',” he jokes. His smile quirks, “Since we’re talking kissing, you and Niragi, huh? That piercing?” 

A smile tugs at her lips, her chin dipping and the blush reddening her cheeks even more as memories flit back into the forefront of her mind. His hand smoothing up her spine, the bump of his piercing against her tongue, the soft sounds he’d made, the taste of his skin. Yukimaru reaches out to grab her arm, shaking her. 

“Come on! After everything else that’s happened this week, you gotta give me something fun. Kiss and tell, come on.” 

She just laughs, “Help me take inventory and we’ll see.” 

There’s no point in wasting his time beating himself up over it. Still, Chishiya feels rather stupid. He’d gotten what he wanted in the nabbing the keys, but it was a step backwards with Maki. She’s still a necessary part of the plan, she’s useful … and the only executive he’s been able to get close to. 

Hatter is too popular, too difficult to get anywhere near; Aguni and Last Boss aren’t even on the table, both useless muscle; Kuzuryu could be useful, but he seems utterly disinterested in everyone, Chishiya included; Mira is simply odd, Chishiya doesn’t trust her; Ann is too smart, already she’s been looking too closely at Chishiya, especially since he’d stitched up Maki - besides Kuina had her covered, anything Ann told her, she told him too. 

Then there’s Niragi. 

Plain and simply, he doesn’t care for Niragi and the feeling is clearly mutual. He’s frustrating and too smart and he doesn’t trust Chishiya, which arises problems when Niragi’s distrust gets in his way. In a way, there’s something almost abstractly recognisable about him. He brushes off the thought, so long as he could get back in Maki’s good graces, everything would be fine and he wouldn’t have to worry about the rest of them. They were nothing but objects in the way of him getting back to reality. 

He’s since come downstairs from Maki’s office and leans against the railing overlooking the annex, a couple floors up. Yamato and Kuina are off, mingling. Separate for once, Kuina has gone off to talk with Ann and Yamato has been left to face the swarm alone. Chishiya’s confident he’ll be fine. Yamato preens under attention, no matter who it’s coming from. Somehow it always works out in his favour. 

Chishiya doesn’t have the same tact for it, especially if this morning was anything to go by. Part of him wonders if it would’ve been simpler to set Yamato on Maki all those days ago, another part tells him they wouldn’t mesh well, that their opposing personalities would rub on each other like high grit sandpaper. 

Still, he’s sure Yamato wouldn’t have fumbled something so stupid as a kiss. 

He huffs out a breath. From where he’s standing, it seems most people have taken to staying inside for the day, wary of when a downpour will finally erupt from the darkened clouds. 

He’ll meet up with the other two later, but for now, he plans to spend his time observing the boarders. He might not have Yamato’s easy sociability, but he’s not so misanthropic as to not find people interesting to watch. People are at their most interesting when they don’t know they’re being perceived. He relaxes against the railing, his hands hanging in the open air, letting his eyes trail over the groups of people below him. 

A small group is setting up the large heavy stereos inside, fiddling with cords and plugs; there’s a group of girls sitting around and chatting, he recognises some from Yamato pointing them out; there’s militants milling around, notable by their weapons, but he hasn’t seen the main trio yet. 

It’s not as if he can sneak away to Maki’s office now to check the safe, it’s too risky and if he’s caught, it’s over. There’s no second chances for 'traitors' under Hatter’s rule. So instead, he spends much of his day this way. Planning and carefully observing, moving around to get better angles. He can see who talks to who, who slips away while trying to go unnoticed, who causes a spill that someone else later slips in, and who snatches things away when others aren’t looking. It’s an intricate, interlacing web that he gets to oversee and play no part in. 

By the time it’s close to sundown, he has a much clearer understanding of how things work around here, how the pecking order stands in the lower members. There’s the rumble of a quick downpour from outside, a few people who had gone out start running back in. Chishiya’s eyes drag over towards the group when his ear perks to the sound of a familiar laugh. 

Looking down, he sees Yamato coming in through the doors amongst a group, clearly having gotten caught out in the rush of heavy rain while fully-clothed. There’s a few women standing in the nearby sitting area, also watching him, their hungry gazes tracking all over him. 

At the sight of him, there’s a stutter in Chishiya’s chest. 

Yamato’s sleeveless shirt clings to his body, his muscles defined under the thin, completely soaked fabric. The water-weight drags his shorts low on his hips. Chishiya’s eyes track over his brawny, flexing arm as Yamato pushes his wet hair out of his face, a smile still on his face as he briefly addresses the nearby women. Every smooth movement shows off his well-maintained muscularity, water dripping from his skin. 

Gaze turning, Yamato notices him standing by the railing and perks up, lifting a hand in a wave, his smile turning genuine. Broken from his stupor, Chishiya exhales through his nose and pulls back, ducking his way through the other boarders as he makes his way to where Kuina sits waiting. 

Yamato catches on and follows suit, swiping water off his skin as he heads upstairs and sits down, leaving Chishiya room to sit on the lounge with him. As Chishiya sits down, his gaze flicks briefly to where Yamato’s damp shirt clings to his broad chest then he turns towards Kuina. 

As he explains what had happened that morning, amusement glazes over Kuina’s face, but at his side, some part of his brain registers the palpable tension of Yamato’s silent jealousy. Frankly, he’s pouting, but otherwise he says nothing. 

“So you got rejected? Not much of a casanova, huh?” Kuina teases. 

“You should hope she doesn’t tell Niragi,” Yamato says, snippily, “Apparently they’ve been sucking face since she got her head cracked the other night.” 

Their gazes snap towards him; Kuina’s interest piqued and Chishiya’s more simply curious with an underlying frustration, that makes trouble for him now if Niragi is around more often to keep distracting her. 

“Maki and Niragi? Really?” Kuina laughs, “Well, it’s about time.” 

“How do you know?” Chishiya asks. 

Yamato leans back against the couch, boredly picking at the chipped edge of his thumbnail, “Makina and that cute blond friend of her’s were talking about it in the food room.” 

“Well, at least I still managed to get these,” Chishiya says, pulling Maki’s ring-of-keys from his pocket. 

Kuina stares, shooting up straighter in her seat. 

“You should get those back to her. Soon. Without her knowing you took them,” she says quickly.

He looks at her, his dark brows creasing at the sudden reaction. 

“Why?” 

“She’s got a game tonight, Ann told me. And those -” She points at a specific set of keys on the ring “- are her car keys. If she hasn’t realised they’re missing already, she’s going to when she goes to leave and can’t find them.” 

“People are going to start heading out for games soon, aren’t they?” Yamato says, glancing around. 

Chishiya looks at the keys. Damnit. When was he going to get a chance like this again? She has the keys on her belt loop all the time , he’d gotten lucky this morning when she’d set them on her desk. He pauses to think. Would she miss one key? He only needs the one for the safe, and only for long enough to check inside. If he can do that while she’s out at the game, he can leave the key in her office and she’ll probably think it just fell off. 

He shoves off the couch, darting quickly towards the nearest elevator to make his way upstairs. After pressing the button for the eighth floor, he pulls the ring-of-keys out again and sorts through them to find the one for the safe’s padlock. 

Panic threads through Maki. Her keys. She’s missing her keys. She’s so sure she had them that morning. She’d put the bag back in the safe and then - what? Where had she put them down? Hadn’t she hooked them back onto her pants? She tries to run it through in her head for what feels like the hundredth time. She’d come to her office, unlocked the safe to put the card bag back inside, then … Chishiya had knocked. Had she just put her keys down or had she clipped them back onto her pants? 

She can’t remember. 

Scrubbing her hands over her face, she takes a breath, trying to calm herself down and figure it out. She can feel her hands shake. If she’s lost her keys, she’ll have to tell someone. She doesn’t want to face Hatter, not after the attitude he’d given her when she’d lost cards the first time. She flinches at the memory of his knife-sharp accusatory snap. 

Shoving the memory down, she yanks open a drawer and starts digging through it. Maybe she’d put them in there by mistake. 

There’s a knock at her door, familiar. She looks up, sees Chishiya, nods in quick greeting, then hurriedly goes back to her drawer. There’s a confusing twist in her stomach at seeing him again so soon since he’d kissed her that morning. Despite herself, she can’t find it in her to ask him to leave so she can get back to searching. He’d seemed to understand it was a mistake and she has more pressing things to worry about. 

“Looking for something?” he asks as he walks in. She glances at him. 

“Just … misplaced something, that’s all,” she says, trying to keep the shakiness out of her voice.

“What is it? Maybe I can help?” 

Her hands shake and she grips around her fingers. Chishiya wouldn’t dob her in, would he? And if she found them then there’d be no problem. 

“My keys,” she says quietly. 

He just nods, starting to look around. His gaze flicks subtly to her, watching carefully. When she turns to dig through another drawer, he steps closer and quietly pulls the keys from his pocket, setting them on the ground under her desk. Turning away, he fakes looking around for a few minutes longer. 

Eventually, when it’s obvious Maki is getting close to utterly distressed, he kneels down and picks up the keys, making a point of jangling them. She whips around at the sound. He holds them out to her. 

“You found them!” she says as she takes them, squeezing the keys into her palm, relief flooding through her, “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” he replies smoothly, tucking his hands back into his pockets. 

“Everything okay?” Niragi’s voice comes as he steps into the office. 

Maki puts a quick step of distance between her and Chishiya, flashes a small smile Niragi’s way. 

“Yeah. Chishiya was just checking my head,” she says, tapping a crooked finger to her injured temple. 

Immediately, she feels bad about lying to him, it’s unlike her, but the nerves from losing her keys and Chishiya kissing her that morning all culminate into the words spilling out. She usually has it more together and after needing them to run in to rescue her from Sekine instead of being able to protect herself, she doesn’t want anyone thinking she’s not competent. 

Niragi takes a step closer, ignoring Chishiya entirely. 

“And you’re okay?” he asks, a slight crease of concern on his face. 

She nods, “All good.” 

“Aguni’s concerned about the weather, so if you want to push your game back another night,” he offers. 

“I already pushed it back another night, I should’ve gone last night. We don’t know how long the weather’s going to be this bad for and I’m running out of days.” She glances towards Chishiya and subtly squeezes the keys with a small smile, “Thank you.” 

He nods at her, then moves to leave, stepping around Niragi towards the door without even sparing him a look. Niragi shoots a short glare in his direction as he passes. When Maki’s hand brushes briefly against his elbow, giving him a small nudge to walk with her, he relents, his expression softening. Despite the fact that her brother could be anywhere nearby, he allows himself the chance to brush his fingers along her arm, his fingertips trailing to the inner side of her wrist and down over her palm. 

She flashes a quick smile at him, squeezing his fingers. 

Chapter Text

Ann’s already picked them out a game arena for the night and gives them a card with an address as they come down the stairs to the main floor. She’s already dealt out the rest of the games. Their’s is at a bit of a distance, but Chuo isn’t far by car and certainly not with Maki’s driving. With the struggle to find her keys, they’re one of the last teams to leave. 

The two make their across the foyer and Maki stops to look for Yukimaru to leave him with a spare notebook and the bag for the card collection. She finds him in the ground floor’s sitting area, leaning his arms on the back of an armchair, chatting casually to a familiarly-quiet Last Boss, who’s sitting on a nearby couch, his sheathed katana laid across his lap. 

Maki and Yukimaru share a brief look as she passes him the stuff to take over for her for the night; his eyes flick intentionally towards Niragi where she does the same towards Last Boss, then they share small hidden smiles before Maki turns to leave towards the garage. Niragi follows her. 

As Maki pulls the Skyline out into the street, she slows to glance up towards the storming sky. It’s dark and blue-grey with heavy cloud cover and she can just barely make out where the moon is, let alone any tiny points of stars. The wind blows roughly outside, bending tree branches and loosening leaves that scatter across the empty streets and roads. 

Luckily the lights of the Skyline work just fine to cut through the dark and the game signs around the city are brightly lit-up to guide their way. Pressing on the accelerator, she takes off down the street. Heading along through Tokyo, it’s a comfortable but less fun drive than her usual joyriding as she takes care of the brewing storm and the slick-wet roads. 

She takes the time to try and settle her nerves. A spade or club game would be best, those she can manage well. A diamond wouldn’t be too bad, she’s done well enough in them and now she has Niragi around, but the possibility of it being a one-winner game makes her wary. Then there’s hearts, they’re rare; as it stands, she hasn’t played any herself the entire time she’s been here and hearts is the suit with the lowest number of cards collected. She’s not sure what to expect with hearts. Usually the players that come back look harrowed, but she doesn’t ask about it, just collects their cards. 

Her gaze flicks towards Niragi and she takes a breath. No matter what game it is, she’s going to make sure they win. They’ll both make it back. She won’t lose him tonight, no matter what game this reality wants to throw at her. 

Following the glowing signs, she pulls the car up near the game arena, closer than she usually would given the way the weather was looking. Turning the car engine off, she shoves the keys into her pocket as she gets out of the car. As she steps out onto the sidewalk, thunder rolls loudly, bounding through the otherwise quiet city. Niragi steps around to her side, following her gaze up towards the cloud-heavy sky. 

“Think we’ll make it out before the rain starts?” he ponders. 

The wind rustles through their hair and Maki shivers at the chill. 

“Let’s hope so, I don’t want to be driving back in a storm,” she replies. 

Her gaze turns, flicking over to the only lit-up building in sight on the street. It looks to be an office building, though it’s wider than it is tall, far stouter in comparison to the high-rise buildings on either side of it. Oddly, from the looks of the brightly glowing windows, it seems like only two floors are lit: the ground floor and the penultimate floor from the top. That must be where the game is taking place. 

Her mind starts running again, card suits flying through her thoughts. A diamond, maybe? A club? She takes a deep breath, forcing determination into her expression. 

“Come on, let’s go in,” she says. 

Inside, the ground floor is empty. Across the room, an elevator waits for them, a familiar game sign pointing towards the shiny doors. Another sign is set up beside it, reading 'personal weapons prohibited beyond this point'. Both she and Niragi frown at the sight. Her hand flits to cover her pocket, over the kaiken inside. Niragi puffs out a breath, adjusting his rifle at his side. 

“Should we leave them back in the car?” he proposes. 

“Yeah. No way I’m leaving my knife in here.” 

Turning back out of the building, they quickly leave their respective weapons in the car - Niragi fits his rifle into the space between the front and back seats, and Maki tucks her kaiken into the center console - and she locks the car again. 

Already, she feels unsteady without the knife close at hand. Stepping back inside, Maki’s eyes turn around the wide foyer. It’s neat and tidy in that dull, clean office way. It looks almost untouched by the ravaging overgrowth outside. In a way, it’s eerie. It’s too clean. Niragi waits on her as she glances around. When she catches his eye, she refocuses and heads towards the elevator. She prods the button and the doors immediately slide open, the elevator already waiting. 

They step inside and the elevator doors close, moving to take them up a few floors without either of them having to press a button. The doors reopen to something even more bizarre than the too-clean ground floor. Someone has made up the once-office floor like something more homely. It doesn’t look anything like an office, no sight of a cubicle or filing cabinet. 

Instead, she’s faced with what looks like a luxury European-style living room. As she steps out, her head turns one way than the other, taking it in. It’s a bit disorienting, like stepping into a different world. From the looks of it, the floor has been broken up into squared smaller rooms; but there’s no doors, only cased flat-arch doorways. 

In the middle of the 'living room', there’s ten wooden chairs arranged in a wide circle, the seats all facing inward. 

There’s eight other players already standing around in the main room. They each glance briefly up as she and Niragi leave the elevator and doors slide closed. Niragi pays them no mind as he turns towards a table against the wall next to the elevator. Maki follows after him and picks up a phone for herself, registering into the game. Niragi does the same, taking the last phone and thumbing over the screen. 

Moments later, an unseen speaker crackles and the players pause and wait, their respective attentions pulled. 

“Players, take a seat,” the robotic voice says. 

Cautiously, they all move towards the circular seating arrangement. 

“Are we playing musical chairs,” one of the men jokes as he sits down. 

There’s a couple nervous laughs. Maki takes a seat and Niragi drops into the one next to her, leaning back in it. Her gaze flicks around the group, there’s equal numbers of women and men. As the last player sits down, the robotic voice comes back. 

“Five of Hearts. Game, Jinrou.” 

Maki’s brow furrows, a pinch in her chest. Hearts? 'Werewolf'? 

The voice continues, “Roles: eight Villagers, two Werewolves. Assignment, villagers: find and accuse both werewolves at the trial before all villagers are dead. Assignment, werewolves: kill all villagers without being caught. Game complete when either all villagers are dead or both werewolves are dead.” 

Tension fills the air, prickling icily along Maki’s skin. 

“Roles will now be assigned. All players remain seated unless collecting your card. Tsuruta Hiwa, collect your card now.” 

A sign lights up, pointing down to a complex-looking printer on a table. One of the women stands from her chair, moving towards the printer. Her body blocks the view of what’s taking so long, but Maki can make out the quiet clunk of the printer. She seems to pick up the card, look at it, then turns to return to her seat, keeping the face of the card hidden. 

She sits and the voice speaks again, “Yaguchi Soushi, collect your card.” 

This continues for three more people until, “Aguni Makina, collect your card.” 

She pauses for a moment, then stands and walks to the table. The printer is sleek and black with a thumbprint scanner off the side. Tilting her head slightly, she looks over the printer before finally pressing her thumb to the scanner. There’s a brief glint of blue light that shines under her thumb, then the printer starts to work, quietly whirring. A card pops out and she takes it, flipping it over. 

Werewolf. The kanji is finely printed a few centimetres from the base of the card and above it is a wolf’s head, both embossed in gold. 

She tries not to let her nerves show, taking a breath and releasing it, trying to make it look like relief. Sliding the card into her pocket, she turns and heads back to her seat. The role assignment continues until she can put names to every face around her: Tsuruta, a smartly dressed woman wearing glasses and an intense expression; Yaguchi, a broad, muscular man; Sasahara, the joking guy; Komuro, a young wide-eyed woman; Ochiai, a tall thin guy with a nervous expression, already sweating into the collar of his tidy button-up; Hosoya, a woman who keeps looking around, her hands fidgeting; Hiroda, a balding bored-expressioned man in a suit; and Mashiko, a gaudily dressed middle-aged woman clutching a purse. 

“First trial begins in twenty minutes,” the voice says. 

The sign above the printer changes: a 20-minute timer. Nobody moves, glancing awkwardly around. The timer starts to tick down. Maki turns her gaze around the group, trying to pick out the other werewolf. 

“How do we do this? Should we just stay sitting here? Draw straws?” Sasahara jokes. Yaguchi glares at him. 

“If you’re going to be making shitty jokes this whole time, we should vote you out first,” he snaps. Sasahara’s hands fly up defensively. 

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood, man.” 

“The werewolves should just show themselves,” Komuro cuts in. All eyes fly towards her. “It’s only fair, right? Trade two lives for the other eight?” 

“Why would the werewolves reveal themselves just to die?” Niragi drawls. His ink-dark gaze flicks towards Komuro, unimpressed. “None of us know each other and humans are naturally selfish. Who’s going to be willing to die for a bunch of strangers?” 

“Then everyone shows their cards, and whoever doesn’t, we’ll know they’re the werewolves,” Komuro shoots back. 

“Maybe she’s right,” Hosoya says, then quickly looks around to the rest of the group, as if she’s looking for agreeing reactions. 

Komuro nods, “I’ll even start!” 

She jams her hand into the pocket of her jacket, pulls her card out and faces it 'villager' side out. In a flash, a laser bores through her head and she drops into a lifeless heap on the ground. The group jolts to their feet in shock, a few cursing loudly in surprise, Hosoya shrieks particularly loud. 

“Rule, cards cannot be shown to other players,” the robotic voice chimes. 

Hosoya twists away from Komuro’s body to cling at Ochiai, who blinks in surprise, seeming unsure what to do, his hands hovering. Maki feels Niragi’s hand brush subtly against her lower back, the touch lasting only a fraction of a moment but enough to distract her away from looking at the body. 

She clears her throat, shuffling on her feet. 

“Should we move her body?” she suggests lightly, her eyes flicking down to Komuro, “Maybe to one of the other rooms?” 

“It’d be creepy to just leave her there,” Sasahara agrees. 

“Whatever,” Yaguchi huffs, sitting back in his seat. 

Sasahara leans and bumps his knuckles against Yaguchi’s bicep. 

“Come on, man, help me get her out of here,” he says. 

Yaguchi slaps Sasahara’s hand away, glaring. When he catches the rest of them watching, his jaw tightens, but he gets back to his feet to step over to the body. He hoists her upper half by grabbing her under her limp arms and Sasahara takes her legs, then the two of them haul the body away into the room on the left side. The rest of the group stand around before eventually taking their seats again. 

“What are we supposed to do now?” Hosoya asks shakily. 

Tsuruta crosses one long slim leg over the other. 

“If we still had an even number of players, we could’ve forced a draw and gotten more time to think,” she says thoughtfully. 

“Unless getting a draw gets us all killed,” Ochiai offers glumly. 

“I don’t think this is something we can just guess,” Maki says carefully. 

Hearts are manipulation games, they play tricks and with people’s emotions. She needs time to think. She needs a plan. She needs to know who the other werewolf is. Her gaze flicks to Niragi and her stomach twists. If it’s not him, what can she do to save him? Sacrifice herself? He likely wouldn’t let her, and her brother would never forgive her for dying here - or forgive him for letting her die. She pushes the thoughts down, focusing. 

“I don’t think we have much of a choice for this round unless the werewolves want to speak up,” Tsuruta says. 

“This is all ridiculous,” Mashiko says, still clutching her handbag like she was worried someone was going to snatch it. 

Sasahara comes jogging back into the room, his eyes wide in surprise. The group turns to look at him, curious. He sucks in a breath, points back towards the doorway. 

“There’s a whole bunch of weapons and stuff laid out in there,” he says. 

Yaguchi follows him out into the room, thumbing at the glinting sharp blade of a particularly brutal-looking knife. Again, Maki longs for her kaiken, missing the weight of it. Her hand smooths over her empty pocket. 

“Must be for the werewolves,” Tsuruta says. 

“Or to protect ourselves from them,” Yaguchi shoots back, gripping the hilt firmly into his palm as he sits, laying the blade over his thigh. As Sasahara sits down, a bell chimes. There’s not many seconds left on the timer. 

“The trial begins now. Cast your vote before the timer reaches zero,” the voice orders. 

“Shit, what do we do?” Sasahara asks. 

A murmur rises through the group, everyone speaking over each other. 

“We need to force a draw,” Tsuruta argues. 

“There’s no way we can have draw with this amount of people,” Ochiai replies, his voice shaky with panic. 

“Everyone just vote!” Mashiko snaps. 

Maki, Niragi, Tsuruta, Sasahara, Yaguchi, Ochiai, Hiroda and Mashiko all point, a vote for and against each of them. Hosoya sits paralyzed, her eyes flicking around, her hand hovering limply in front of her, fingers towards the floor, her vote uncast. The timer hits zero. There’s another flash of a red laser. Hosoya’s body goes limp in her chair, slipping off it onto the floor. 

“Rule, all players must vote.” The voice monotones, “Trial results, draw. Second trial begins in thirty minutes.” 

“Oof, well, that’s another body to move,” Sasahara says shakily. 

“Can you be serious for one second?” Tsuruta snaps. Sasahara grimaces. 

“Sorry.” 

Maki stands up from her chair. Eyes flick towards her. 

“There’s no point just sitting around here. Obviously the werewolves aren’t going to speak up and we can’t just have draws for every trial or nobody will win. Maybe there’s something hidden in one of these rooms that’ll help us figure something out,” she says. 

Rounding her chair, she walks towards the doorway across the room. For a quick moment, she glances back to meet Niragi’s eye and subtly tilts her head, hoping he’ll understand to come meet her. 

The rest stay sitting for a moment longer, then they get up too. Sasahara and Yaguchi get up to move the body away. Hiroda silently gets up to wander off towards the rightmost room. Tsuruta, Mashiko and Ochiai stay sitting. Niragi stands, stepping past Tsuruta to follow Sasahara and Yaguchi towards the weapons room. Instead of staying to look at what’s laid out, he curves through to the left corner room and then into the middle room. 

Maki has tucked herself into a book-shelved corner, waiting. 

The room has been done up like a comfortable sitting room. The walls are lined with bookshelves and there’s a chess table set up on one side, couches and a coffee table on the other. The only thing that’s missing is a fireplace. Like the main room, it looks like a European-styled display room. Maki plucks a book off the shelf and is disappointed to find it’s a blank-paged fake. With a frown, she slips it back into place. 

Niragi steps towards her, turning his back to the bookcase and a cautious eye to each of the doorways. 

“What card did you get?” he asks quietly, “If …” he takes a short breath and swallows, his eyes search across her face, “If you got a villager card, I’ll help you win. I’ll kill the other werewolf if I have to.”

She reaches out to grab his wrist, the beads of the bracelet pressing into her palm. Her eyes are wide, meeting his gaze. 

“You got a werewolf card?” she asks, her tone urgent. 

He nods shortly. A relieved smile breaks across her face. She squeezes at his wrist, pressing her forehead against his bicep as she takes a breath, mumbling a 'thank god'. His free hand touches her arm, his fingers running up to catch her under her chin and lift her gaze up to look at him. 

It clicks, but he still asks.

“You’re the other werewolf?” 

She nods and he breathes a sigh of relief. Leaning in, he presses a short kiss to her mouth, quickly parting before they could get caught. 

“Okay. We need to make a plan,” she says, refocusing. 

“What do you have in mind?” 

“This is a hearts game, so it’s all manipulation. We need them to not suspect us, which means we shouldn’t be seen together.” 

With her worries about Niragi settled, she can think a little clearer. Her eyes move across the room and she heads for the chess board. He follows after her, cautiously eyeing the doorways. She clears off the chessboard, then plucks up a handful of pieces, thumbing over the moulded edges as she thinks. 

She places the pieces down in a circle with each name, a mimicry of where they’re seated back in the main room, “Tsuruta, Yaguchi, Sasahara, Ochiai, Mashiko, Hiroda.” 

They look at the pieces. 

“Where do we start?” Niragi asks. 

Maki hums thoughtfully, then sets a finger onto a white rook, “Sasahara, I think. He and Yaguchi are already clashing, we can pin it on him. That’ll be two down.” 

“Right,” Niragi agrees. 

She tilts her head, thinking, “We’ll need something plant on Yaguchi.” She looks back down at the pieces, “Another thing, we should keep going along with Tsuruta’s draw idea for now - and I think you should get close to her.” 

Niragi quirks a brow at her, slowly asks, “Why?” 

“She’s smart, I think she’ll be hard to trick but,” Her eyes flick to him, “She checked you out when we walked in.” 

Disbelieving amusement flickers across his expression. 

“What? She … did not,” he says, slightly incredulous. 

“She did, and it’ll work to our advantage. If you get close to her and get her to trust you, then you can sway her to vote our way. We don’t have the numbers to push the vote as it is now.” 

He eyes her, “So what do you expect me to do?” 

“Use a little charm. Flirt. Offer a partnership. She can’t ask to see your card, so lie, say you’re a villager.” 

He nods shortly, “Okay, Sasahara and Yaguchi first, then who?” 

From the main room comes a shout. They glance away from the chess board. 

It sounds like an argument’s broken out, Mashiko’s shrill voice punctuating hurtled frustrations and accusations. They step towards the doorway, peering into the room. Mashiko is yelling at Ochiai, Tsuruta is attempting to calm her down and appears to be failing miserably at it. Sasahara and Yaguchi have returned from the other room, but neither make any attempt to step in. 

The argument only stops when Tsuruta shouts. 

“That’s enough, we’re running out of time before the second trial. We need to figure out a plan,” she barks loudly. 

Maki nudges Niragi’s arm with the point of her elbow, motioning with her head for him to go. He huffs quietly, then takes a breath and steps out into the main room. 

“Tsuruta’s right,” he says, briefly meeting Tsuruta’s gaze as he draws the group’s attention, “There’s an even number of us now. That’s makes it an easy draw, we just have to make sure everyone only votes for one person. So let’s deal out who’s voting for who in the next trial - unless someone has an idea who the werewolves are?” 

Maki leaves him to it, stepping back to walk out the right doorway of the library room, looping through to the rightmost room. In the room off of the main room, she finds Hiroda drinking, apparently having dug out a bottle of liquor from a cabinet in the room. She glances at him, he looks back at her. There’s a beat of silence. Her gaze flicks down to the partly-emptied bottle. Involuntarily, her mouth presses in a disapproving line. 

“Don’t look so judgy, we’re all going to die here anyway,” he says. 

Maki looks away from him, towards the doorway. 

“The trial’s going to start soon,” she replies dismissively. 

He huffs a response, taking a long swig from the bottle, and she turns away, heading out into the main room. The group has sat down again at the circle of chairs. Ochiai’s shoulders are drawn in, his head down. Mashiko’s arms are crossed and she’s frowning, her bag in her lap. Niragi’s taken the seat beside Tsuruta, the one that had been Komuro’s. Maki walks over to take her own seat, crossing her ankles under the chair. 

“What are we doing? What’s the plan?” she asks, glancing around. 

Niragi looks to Tsuruta, seemingly deferring to her. 

“We’ve got an even number for a draw this trial,” Tsuruta explains, “You’ll vote for Mashiko.” 

Maki nods shortly. Mashiko shifts uncomfortably. The timer continues to tick down. The bell finally dings and Hiroda stumbles out, slumping into his seat, the bottle still in his hand. 

“Another draw plan?” he drawls, “What a waste of time.” 

“What’s your idea then?” Yaguchi snaps, his thumb pressing over the base of his knife hilt. Hiroda motions with the liquor bottle. 

“Might as well start killing people off, maybe we’ll get lucky and get the werewolves before we’re all dead.” 

“That’s stup-” Maki starts before she cuts off by Yaguchi. 

“Maybe we should start with you then. Maybe you’re one of the werewolves.” 

“Maybe I am,” Hiroda challenges, leaning towards Yaguchi, “Or maybe I’m not. Won’t know until I’m dead.” 

“That’s enough, both of you,” Tsuruta cuts in, “We need to do our votes before the timer runs out. Hiroda, you’re voting for Sasahara.” 

“Cast your votes now,” the voice says. 

Maki, Niragi, Tsuruta, Mashiko and even Hiroda all follow the votes as they should, one for each. The problem lies with Yaguchi, Sasahara and Ochiai. All three turn pointing fingers towards Hiroda. He barely has a chance to react before the timer hits zero. 

The voice speaks, “Trial results, Hiroda has been sentenced.” 

“Wai-wait!” Hiroda cries, shocked. 

The voice continues, unfazed, “Role, villager.” 

Hiroda doesn’t even get a chance to move before the laser fires down, another hole in the ceiling and in someone’s skull. Maki just stares. A flash of blinding red and then, he’s gone, slumping, the bottle in his hand falling to the ground where it smashes into shards. 

Liquor splashes against Maki’s shoe. She blinks. This game is proving to be easier than she thought, she hasn’t even had to do anything yet and already three of the eight are down. Now she only has to deal with the remaining ones. The thought brings a sick, guilty feeling that she’s quick to shove down. There’s no other choice. For her and Niragi to survive, the rest have to die - and if she has to take an active role in it, so be it. She won’t die here, she won’t let Niragi die here. 

“You three killed him! Why did you do that?” Mashiko shrieks, leaping up from her chair beside Hiroda’s corpse. 

“He wanted to die,” Yaguchi says, uncaring. 

“He said he could be the werewolf,” Ochiai adds, at least sounding guilty. 

“He was obviously lying! Now we’re down to five villagers and no closer to finding either of the werewolves,” Tsuruta snaps. 

“Third trial begins in thirty minutes,” the voice chimes in. 

Yaguchi and Sasahara get up, moving towards Hiroda’s body. Sasahara grabs for his ankles and struggles a little more than he had with the girls. Meanwhile, Yaguchi has no issue, hooking under Hiroda’s arms and hauling him up. It’s rather impressive, and exactly why Sasahara was her choice to kill. Yaguchi would be too much of a challenge to take down, even with her brother’s training. She wouldn’t be able to do it quietly, he’d fight back and she’d be exposed as a werewolf. 

Maki stands, tripping on her chair just enough to come off as 'shaken'. She eyes after the two men and the body a moment longer, then steps around her chair to give him a wide berth as she heads back to the 'library' room. Niragi glances briefly towards her, then turns his attention to Tsuruta. He reaches out to touch her wrist, pulling her attention back to him as he easily coaxes her into a conversation. 

Keeping her pace casual, Maki heads into the library then as soon as she’s out of sight, she hurries to the left corner room. Keeping close to the wall, she inches down to the doorway of the 'weapons' room and peers around it into the room. 

The two womens’ bodies lay on the ground by the side wall, inconsiderately dumped on the floor, their legs and arms splayed. Her gaze flits to the pair of men. Sasahara stumbles a little, almost dropping Hiroda’s legs and Yaguchi snaps at him. Yaguchi backs up towards the wall and unceremoniously dumps Hiroda onto the ground by the women. He dusts his hands of him, stretching his arms and running a hand through his hair. Her eyes flick to the knife tucked through his belt, on his left side. 

Yaguchi turns, looking at the table of weapons. She follows his gaze, she can make out various knives, hatchets, loops of thin cord; all manner of things that would usually make her sick to think about how they could be used to hurt someone. Now, she has no choice but to consider them. 

“We need to start taking people out. The werewolves aren’t making any moves, so we just need to start pointing fingers,” Yaguchi says. 

“Who do you think they are?” Sasahara asks. 

“Tsuruta sure seems confident in pushing us all around and telling us who to vote for. Keeping herself safe.” 

Sasahara leans again the table, crossing his arms, “Ochiai voted for this guy, but I bet he couldn’t lift a hand to actually kill anyone. Mashiko too. What about those other two? Aguni and Niragi?” 

Maki leans closer to listen. 'Aguni'. It’s strange to hear herself referred to as such, it’s always been her brother. 

“Niragi was right when he said people are selfish, but maybe he’s speaking for himself,” Yaguchi says, his hand coming to rest on the smooth hilt of the knife. “Aguni … she’s too quiet. Can’t get a read on her.” 

“You think she’s planning something? Maybe her head just hurts, did you see that wound?” 

“I think she’s got an idea of who the werewolves are, but she won’t say. She came in with that Niragi guy, maybe she’s trying to protect him.” Yaguchi sighs and rubs a hand over his face. He kicks at Hiroda’s legs, “This bastard had the right idea. I need a drink.” 

With that, he turns to leave without letting Sasahara say anything more in reply. Maki waits for a long beat after Yaguchi leaves of the room then she strolls casually into the room, brushing her long hair back over her shoulder. Sasahara looks at her, a hint of surprise in his gaze. She doesn’t meet his eye as she strolls towards the weapons table, leaning to look over the tools but not touching any yet. Subtly, her gaze turns sidelong towards the doorway. She can hear the quiet indistinct murmur of Niragi chatting with the others, distracting them. 

Her gaze flicks back. She finds her weapon-of-choice, a sizeable thin-bladed knife, and eyes it. Inhale, exhale. It’s now or never. Sasahara is speaking, but she’s not listening, his voice is muffled beneath her heart pounding in her ears. Inhale, exhale. Calm. 

“Sasahara,” she interrupts quietly. 

He pauses, blinks, leans a fraction closer to her, “Huh?” 

There’s nothing 'pure impulse' about what she does next. It’s all carefully planned, smooth motion. 

She picks up the knife, twisting on her feet, her free hand flies up to cover Sasahara’s mouth and she shoves him back against the closest wall, out of view from anyone who might glance towards the doorway. Before he can make more than a short noise, she fits the shiny point of the blade between his ribs and stabs. 

She feels his wheeze of pain against her palm. His hands fumble, grabbing at her wrist. She presses harder over his mouth, muffling him, her fingers digging into his cheeks. Her eyes flick up, apologetic as she meets his confused and pained gaze. 

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry,” she says softly, “But I need to win this game.” 

She pulls the knife back an inch or so, shifting the tip, then stabs again. He chokes out another breath against her palm. Tears that have pooled into his eyes slip down his cheeks, she feels the hot wetness drip against her fingers and the side of her hand. Her jaw tightens against a tremble. His eyes roll and his body goes slack, his legs slipping out from under him and she helps him slide down to the ground. A shaky exhales passes her lips and she swallows past the tightness in her throat. 

Grabbing the hilt, she pulls the knife out. Blood sluices down Sasahara’s chest, staining through his clothes. She lifts her hand to close his lifeless, dulled eyes. Yaguchi might not have done it, but she does anyway. 

Turning, she quickly leaves the weapons room, back into the left-corner room. It’s not overly decorated, rather minimalist in a way. Her eyes flick around, searching. She doesn’t have much time. Her eyes land on a fake-flower-filled painted vase and she shifts it aside, grabbing the decorative lacy white cloth from beneath it. After wiping the blood off the knife and her hand, she folds the cloth into a crumpled square, just small enough to fit in her fist. Setting the vase back into place, she slides the knife into it, hiding it between the plastic green stems. 

She can’t be sure how long she has left until the next trial without checking the clock, but she can’t do that with a bloodied cloth in her hand. Moving through to the middle room, she pauses by the doorway and peeks out. The other four are distracted and she darts across the opening to the other side of the room, hurrying through to the right-corner room. Like the other corner room, it’s not overly decorated. More like a 'kitchenette' decorated to match with the 'bar' of the rightmost room. 

Stopping beside the doorway to the 'bar' room, she takes a breath to calm herself down. It’s an act, she needs to be believable if she’s going to get close enough to Yaguchi to plant the cloth on him. She hates lying, hates playing so manipulatively, but she tells herself it’s necessary, that it’s the only way she and Niragi make it out alive. It’s not fair, but it’s the only choice she has. She peeks around to corner, spotting Yaguchi digging through the bar, picking through the bottles to find his choice of poison. 

Holding her free hand to the injured side of her head, she stumbles into the room and bumps into his right side. Quickly, and hopefully unnoticeably, she tucks the bloodied cloth into his jacket pocket. 

“Oh, sorry, it’s …” she swallows thickly, scrunches her face as she takes a step back from him. She blinks at him, wide doe eyes, playing innocent, “My head … Is there any water in here?” 

He looks down at her, then glances back across the rows of bottles before picking one out and holding it towards her. She smiles weakly and takes it with a small 'thank you', cracking the lid and takes a small sip. It’s warm, but at least tastes clean, not mineral-y or plastic-y. Yaguchi finally picks something off the shelf and twists open the cap, then looks at her as he sits. 

“How did that happen?” he asks, motioning towards her injured temple. 

She reaches her fingers up to the edge of the wound, flinching slightly. That’s real, it still stings to the touch, a dull ache through her head. 

“I was attacked,” she replies simply. 

“By that guy?” he asks, nodding towards the doorway. 

“Niragi?” she laughs shortly, “No. No, he’s …” A smile pulls at her lips, the lie falls easily, “He’s harmless really.” 

“'Harmless'?” He sounds disbelieving. 

“Have you ever heard of aposematism?” 

He looks at her, blank confusion obvious in his expression. She leans against the bar, tucking her knuckles under her chin, flipping through her memory to dig up the facts she’d read about. 

Smiling, she explains with a kind of knowledgeable ease, “It’s the markings and colourings on animals that says 'don’t eat me, I’m poisonous' or 'I don’t taste good'. There’s this phenomenon in nature though, called 'Batesian mimicry', in which harmless animals mimic the behaviours or colours of aposematic animals to trick predators. That’s Niragi, all the piercings and posturing, it’s just a mimicry to try and convince you he’s scary.” 

It’s an amusing lie. Niragi is intimidating and more predator than prey and she knows it, the Beach knows it too, that rifle only added to the impression he made. The lie is made easier by the facts, by being able to talk about things she’d read about instead of thinking of what she’d just done to survive. Talking about quotes and information she’s read is fun, it’s what she enjoys; if it could win her games, it’s all she’d do - but it’s not. Nothing in this reality is so easy, instead she is left with the warm sticky heat of blood on her hands as she grapples towards victory. 

She’s brought back into reality as the bell tolls. 

“Trial three,” she says with a sigh, pushing away from the bar. 

“Tsuruta probably wants us to do another draw,” Yaguchi drawls, unimpressed as he takes another long draw from his liquor bottle. 

“Well, if it keeps up alive,” she muses lightly. 

She takes another sip of the water, then twists the lid back on, leaving the bottle on the bar. Turning away, she walks through the doorway, taking a direct line towards her seat. As she sits, Niragi glances briefly her way, those intense dark eyes meet her’s, and she drums her fingers against her left side, hoping he understands. 

Yaguchi takes a seat, one seat spared between him and Tsuruta. He kicks his legs out, setting the bottle down on the ground beside him. Crossing his arms, he leans against the back of his chair, clearly bored. They wait, a long beat of silence passing. Beside Yaguchi, Ochiai shuffles uncomfortably, his gaze flicks across the circle of seats, taking in the empty ones. 

“Where’s Sasahara?” he asks, breaking the silence. 

Maki looks around, feigning ignorant curiosity. 

“Wasn’t Yaguchi was the last one to see him?” Niragi pipes up lazily. 

Yaguchi’s eyes snap towards him, Niragi remains unfazed under the other man’s glower, leaning relaxed, long legs kicked out in front of him, ankles crossed. Yaguchi huffs, leaning an arm onto his thigh. 

“What are you accusing me of?” he snaps, a threatening flash of teeth. 

“Not accusing you of anything, I’m just stating facts,” Niragi shoots back, dark eyes narrowing, equally snarling. 

“I didn’t do anything!” 

“Where is he then?” Niragi shifts up in his seat, leaning towards Yaguchi, then his eyes drop, a hint of a confused furrowing across his brow, “What’s that on your jacket?” 

“What are you talking about?” Yaguchi snaps. 

Beside him, Ochiai glances towards Yaguchi’s jacket. Behind his glasses, his eyes trail down until they reach his pocket. Maki had smudged blood against the fabric as she shoved the cloth away. With Yaguchi distracted by Niragi, Ochiai reaches over and plucks the folded cloth from Yaguchi’s pocket. The pale fabric unfolds, revealing the stain of blood. With a yelp, Ochiai drops the cloth and the bloodied pale fabric lays on the ground for all to see. Ochiai and Tsuruta, both sitting closest to Yaguchi, jerk away in an attempt to put some distance between them. 

“What is that?” Mashiko asks, her voice shrill, pointing a finger at the cloth. 

“That - that’s not mine!” Yaguchi snaps, shooting up out of his seat. 

“It came out of your pocket! There’s blood on your jacket!” Ochiai squawks. 

“Cast your votes now,” the monotonous robotic voice cuts in. 

“Wait, hold on!” Yaguchi shouts. 

It’s too late. Already Ochiai and Mashiko are pointing at him without so much as pausing to hear him out. Niragi’s hand lifts and he points at Yaguchi, Maki follows suit - with albeit more forced unwillingness, a play at feeling guilty - and, slowly, so does Tsuruta. Yaguchi’s gaze turns across them, staring in disbelief again their accusing hands. 

“I’m not a werewolf!” he clambers, “I’m not!” 

“Trial results, Yaguchi has been sentenced.” There’s a brief, dramatic pause and Maki can feel the bated breaths of the other players, suspense hanging heavy in the air, “Role, villager.” 

Yaguchi doesn’t get the chance to say anything, to throw it back in their faces, as a laser shoots through his skull. His eyes, blown wide, go slowly blank as his body falls. He’s little more than a pile of loose limbs slumping onto the ground in front of his chair, his face dropping into the bloodied cloth. Ochiai shuffles away from the body, his hand shake where they grip the seat of his chair. Mashiko white-knuckles her bag. 

Maki breathes out. 

She looks over at Ochiai. His wavering gaze meets her. 

“Ochiai, maybe you should take Mashiko to get a drink of water. There’s some in the bar,” she says gently, nodding towards the rightmost room. 

Ochiai nods. He stands up from his chair, motioning for Mashiko to come with him. Slowly, Mashiko drags her eyes away from the body and lets Ochiai lead her away to the 'bar' room. Tsuruta stares across at Yaguchi’s body, confusion in her eyes. 

“If Yaguchi wasn’t a werewolf, why would he kill Sasahara?” she ponders. 

“Maybe he thought Sasahara was a werewolf,” Niragi supplies. 

Tsuruta stands, “I want to see the body. Come with me.” 

Maki and Niragi follow after her towards the weapons room. Sasahara has slipped slightly from where she’d left him, leaned to one side. His jaw is slack, making his bloody mouth hang open. Maki turns her head away, holding a hand to her mouth and stumbling back, bumping against the table and subtly picking up a small folded knife that she slides quickly into her pocket before Tsuruta can notice. 

“I can’t look at this, it’s too awful,” Maki says, her voice a muffled whimper into her fingers. 

With that, she turns and walks out of the room as Tsuruta and Niragi kneel down beside Sasahara’s body. She crosses the main room towards the 'bar' room. Looking through the doorway, she sees Mashiko sitting alone at the bar, her handbag set on a seat beside her. Ochiai is nowhere in sight. Pressing her lips together, Maki considers her options: Ochiai or Mashiko? 

Weighing the choices, she takes a step back from the doorway. Ochiai would be easiest. He’s quieter, even if his much-taller height in comparison to herself makes it a little more complicated. Mashiko is too shrill, if Maki can’t keep her quiet then she’ll cry out and alert Tsuruta and Ochiai to Maki’s attack; and if she doesn’t manage to kill Mashiko, it’ll be three votes on her. With no one around, she pulls the pocket knife out and flips the blade out. It’s small and thin, it could almost be mistaken for a nail file. 

Hearing footsteps, she shoves the knife away, then breathes a sigh of relief when she sees it’s only Niragi. He casts a look around, then turns his gaze back onto her. 

“What’s the plan?” he asks quietly. 

“Ochiai’s next,” she replies. 

“I can do it.” 

“It’s fine, just … cover his mouth, keep him still and quiet.” 

Her hand is still in her pocket, gripping around the hilt. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

It’d be easy to pass the knife to him. She knows he hasn’t got clean hands in all of this, that he’s killed his fair share of so-called 'traitors' at the Beach and other players in games, this would mean nothing to him. Still, she finds herself simply nodding. 

She answers, “It’s to win the game. If it gets us out of here alive, I can do it.” 

There’s a rumble of thunder from outside, rain starting to patter. It starts slow, then it comes pouring, loud against the silence of the building. She reaches her hand to his elbow, pulling him along to the library room’s right doorway. Narrowing it down, Ochiai should be in the right-corner room. If they’re quick, they can nab him before Tsuruta and Mashiko realise anything. 

The downpour is good sound cover, but they still move quietly. They reach the right-side doorway of the library and peek around it. Ochiai’s back is to them, picking through the display cupboard which must be full of nothing but empty boxes from the way he’s tossing them aside after opening each one. Maki and Niragi meet each other’s eyes for a moment, then they nod. An agreement. An understanding. 

Niragi’s fingertips brush along her lower back, then he moves first, his steps soundless under the swell of the storm. 

Quickly, his hand snaps around to clasp over Ochiai’s mouth. His other hand grabs for Ochiai’s wrist, yanking his arm around behind his back, pulling him away from the cupboard and turning him towards Maki. Ochiai’s feet kick out against the ground, shock flaring in his eyes behind the lens of his glasses. 

Maki moves in. 

She flicks the small blade out of the hilt with a quiet click of metal, and hears Ochiai squeak. Her eyes flick down to his throat. Her hand reaches out, she tucks her fingers under the line of his jaw, trailing down until she finds the jump of his pulsing jugular. It’d be an utter bloodbath to simply slash his throat so carelessly, she wouldn’t be able to clean herself of it easily. 

Instead, she thrusts the small blade into his neck, right through the artery. 

Ochiai’s legs kick out, thrashing in shock. Stepping out of the way of the coming blood spray, Maki pulls the blade out. Immediately, blood jets from the wound, spilling down his front and spattering onto the ground. Niragi holds him tight, twisting his arm further back. She hears the distressed grunt of pain Ochiai makes, the sound muffled against Niragi’s palm. Her gaze flicks up from the gushing wound to his face, she watches his eyes roll back. As he starts to go limp, Niragi lowers him to the ground.