overflow

by Trilies

Chikusa and Ken's lives are simple. He is the son of a noble, expected to inherit. He is the son of servants, expected to obey. Despite this, they are still friends beyond their stations, and they dream of things beyond as well... But that was before the water. That was before they met Mukuro. [[A Dishonored AU]]

2. my love, don't forget me

Chikusa awakes to the rolling rumble of thunder.

Blearily, his eyes flutter open and he pushes himself up. The room is a lot more dark than he remembers it being when he first curled up in the enormous plush armchair upstairs. Back then, late morning light had filled it with a heavy but warm glow. It had been so easy to drift off to sleep in the library that way, the book he'd been reading too dull for even him to stay awake through. Leaning down the chair, he grabs the book in question up off the floor and goes to put it back. That's the key to him having so much freedom in what he gets to read and where he gets to go- everything goes back in its place. His parents are never the wiser.

Then again, sometimes he wonders if they'd even blame him. They don't pay him much mind, but Chikusa doesn't think they'd think he'd misbehave, either. More than likely, he knows they'd blame one of the servants. They might even blame Ken, even though Ken gets too fidgety if he's forced to stay inside too long and doesn't have the patience for books. The thought alone makes Chikusa frown as the book slides into place with a thunk.

He likes Ken. He's really gross and loud and doesn't know how to sit still, but he's fun, too. A bubble of warmth kicks up in Chikusa's chest whenever he's able to find something that interests Ken as much as it does him. There's not a lot of other kids his age that Chikusa gets along with, so... He'll have to make sure that Ken stays with him and his family forever.

The thoughts drift away from him as he wanders over to the library window, still rubbing at his eyes. Not only is there the flash of lightning, but the rain is coming down hard. Books he's read have described storms as pounding or vicious. Now, as he leans close to the glass, he thinks he understands what they all meant. It's an onslaught, and he can barely make out anything beyond the window. Is it the rain against the glass that makes the streets below seem so full? Uncertainty rolls in his stomach in time with the thunder, and Chikusa steps away as he realizes something.

He hasn't heard anyone past the sound of the storm.

Trying to muffle the flicker of panic in his chest, Chikusa hurries over into the hall and goes still as he listens with everything he can. No one is ever really quiet. Sure, his parents are, by virtue of absence, but the servants? Never. It's something he's noticed when he's been left to his own. Either they're bustling around the house cleaning it, or they're tucked away in little corners of the house gossiping when they think no one else is around. Chikusa has learned a lot listening to them.

But as he pokes his head out into the hall, he can't hear anything. There's no footsteps, or cleaning tools clattering together, or tapping fingers against wood. When he ventures down the stairs to the lower floors, not a single one carries the quiet whispers of gossip.

Wracked with indecision, Chikusa rocks on his heels for a moment at the very bottom step of his home. Every bit of his personality shies at the idea of drawing attention to himself. At the same time, never before has he realized how empty his world could be. Desperation makes the realization stick out all the sharper until he finally gives in. "Hello!" His voice shakes as it leaves his throat and echoes through the empty halls. "Is anyone here?" No answer. The distress in his voice gets sharper. "Anyone? Please? Ken!"

Silence.

Outside, the thunder crashes once more, and it rolls into his very nerves. His hands won't stop shaking as he quickly sets to exploring every single room he possibly can. Emptiness and silence greet him every single time while, outside, the rain only slams against the building harder. Curling up by the front door, Chikusa digs his fingers into his pants and bites his lip. Best he can, he tries to tell himself that everything will be alright. It doesn't make sense for him to just be abandoned here by everyone. Right?

Chikusa comforts himself with that thought over and over again, his only sanctuary against the storm. It helps that outside, he thinks he can hear the sound of activity: carts and hurrying boots and indistinct shouts. Past all the rain, he can't make out the words. It comforts him regardless, helps bring him down from panicking. However, he's only been there for a few minutes when...

There's no describing the sound, not with so much background noise. In fact, it's not even a sound- it's a feeling, a sensation that thrums through his ear down into his chest. Outside, the yells have become louder, and Chikusa scrambles to his feet. Standing on the tips of his toes and fumbling with the locks on the door takes what feels like ages, and when he finally opens the doors, the force of the wind slams it open. Chikusa falls back with a frightened shout that gets swallowed up in the gale, rain sweeping inside and stinging his skin. Fear pushes him upward and forward, and he steps outside the door. Immediately, his glasses are drenched and useless, but in that split second before that, looking up the street...

There's something wrong with the dam.

Past the rain, past his glasses, there's only dull color all blurred together, but the sense of wrongness and a distant roar strikes terror straight into a heart like a plunging knife. Across the street, he thinks he saw a glimpse of someone, of a cart-

Chikusa jerks back inside his house instead, grabbing the door and digging his feet into the floor to help him force it closed. By this point, the already smooth wood floor is even slicker with rainfall. More than a few times, his feet slip and his cheek smashes into the door, but he quickly rights himself each time. When the door finally clicks into place, his chest is heaving. Somehow, despite the adrenaline flooding his system, he manages to get the lock slid into place first try.

The rising roar drowns out any regrets. From the corner of his eye, he can see something gray and oppressive barrel down the street, consuming it. He feels how it smashes into the building from the bottom of his feet only a second before water, bursting from beneath and around the cracks of the door and windows, sweeps onto the floor. The pure force of it knocks him down his feet a second time, and the water is so cold. It stings his palms as he tries to catch himself, the splash barely a note amidst the wailing of rushing water- and the crack of wood splintering apart.

He doesn't think. He can't think. Base instinct is in control of his hands and feet as he tries to scramble upright. Each time, tumultuous waters snatch away his balance. Past toes, ankles, knees, it keeps getting higher like it's chasing how his heart has leapt from his chest to his throat. Panic and water blur his vision, and it's pure luck when his fingers wrap around the stair railings.

Beneath him, his legs are useless weights being used as playthings for the sea. It's his hands, soft from a soft life and slick from treacherous rain, that drag him forward. Water at his waist, now. He hooks his elbow around a column, ignores the pain as it digs into his arm, and reaches for the next. So damn cold, his feet have gone nearly numb, but somewhere beneath him, Chikusa feels himself smash his toe into the steps. He doesn't need much, just a push is enough, and he flails for the next bit of railing. He stumbles up a little more, but the water is so fast, it's up to his chest, he can't see anything, and he can feel his hands slipping, his eyes stinging-

The water is rising and he's going to drown.

The knowledge rushes into his mind in time with the water rushing into his mouth as he slips, sinking into the pull of the storm. He's going to drown, going to die, all alone in an empty house. It bears down on him worse than the heaviness of his clothes, twice their weight and dragging through the water. He tries to open his mouth, desperate for air, but it only welcomes in the rain water, and this is it. This is it.

He wanted to do so much, wanted to go to that college, wanted to play and see Ken all the time, but this is it, he's going to die and no one will care. Even as he's trying to push himself up and pull up further by the railing, he's fighting against more than just the water now. Despair shoves at his shoulders. It's half a miracle he resurfaces with a cough, half blind

and someone grabs him.

What looks like sunshine and moss past his tears hauls him up what's left of the dry stairs. Chikusa trips over himself as he ascends the steps, hacking out water and wheezing in air desperately. So this is what the stories mean. It's a thought that passes through his mind like a wisp, and he lets himself be pulled up to the second floor. As much as he wants to collapse, his body knows what safety is better than him. Automatically, it pushes him forward, pushes him higher, until finally he trips and falls on the third floor landing. Every exhale, every hack, is an expulsion of water. Tears and snot pour down his wet face. Chikusa barely notices any of it.

Only when his lungs are burning but empty does he finally wipe at his face. His glasses are next to useless, now, but he doesn't need them to recognize the person leaning over the steps downwards and whistling. Chikusa's voice comes out strangled and hoarse. "Ken?"

Ken twists around. Even with blurry vision, Chikusa can see the way he bares his teeth in a wide grin that takes up most of his face. It doesn't match up with the tension thrumming in his body that's just as obvious. "Kakipii! I thought you were gonna throw up the whole ocean."

For as long as it's existed, Chikusa has hated that nickname. Right now, he couldn't care less. He gets up on unsteady feet and stumbles to the other boy. Ken's expression immediately falls apart, all clumsy concern, and he steps forward to meet Chikusa halfway. "You came back," Chikusa croaks, tears welling up in his eyes again. "No one- I thought I was alone."

"Stupid Kakipii." Beneath Chikusa fingers curling tight into his shirt, he can feel how he's become tense and awkward. "Told you I was gonna take care of you too." His head twists to look back down the stairs. "I think the water is still coming... C'mon." He starts to move on, and Chikusa follows close behind. He doesn't let go of him. Ken doesn't pull away. Together, with the storm still raging, they go to the third floor. Ken is fidgeting, Chikusa can feel him, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared too. He can still feel the water biting into him...

"...Is this enough, do you think?"

They're in front of his room, and Ken practically growls. "We can't go higher, stupid!"

Chikusa doesn't answer that. Silently, he tugs Ken along to his parents' bedroom. Even with rain beating on the windows and everything seeming grayer, it's just as majestic as ever. For a brief second, he feels an old urge to tiptoe and be silent, just in case. It doesn't last long; fear and chill swallow it up. Besides him, Ken is shuffling and grumbling about why they have to be in this stuffy old room instead of his, but Chikusa ignores it. Hidden among the curtains is a rope to pull, and Ken starts when a tug of it is enough to make a panel in the ceiling drop and a ladder inelegantly clatters down to the floor.

"I didn't know there was a secret ceiling thing!"

Even shaking- all fear, adrenaline, cold- Chikusa grins. "That's because it's secret."

Ken goes up first, clambering quick and agile in a way Chikusa can only dream of. Following after him is hard. His hands still won't stop shaking, his grip is weak, and his skin still damp. More than once, Chikusa nearly slips from his place and only manages to save himself by hastily hooking his elbow around a rung. When he's high enough, Ken reaches down and hauls him up into the darkness.

No windows are up in the attic. For a moment, Chikusa can only kneel there with no light and staring into shadows. Around him, the sound of rain consumes everything. He's only dimly able to see Ken's silhouette and listen to the shuffle of his feet as he ventures deeper into the attic. "There's so much junk up here!" he calls back.

"Expensive junk!" Chikusa yells to him, getting up to his feet only to fall again when they prove to be too wobbly. At least his eyes are getting better, and shaking off some of the water from his glasses even lets him see a bit of detail, almost. Ken's figure stops by something propped up against a small mountain of crates. Squinting, Chikusa watches as he tugs it down and it falls hard enough against the ground to make Chikusa shake. "Ken!"

"I think it's a rug!" he calls to him, ignoring the alarm in Chikusa's voice. "C'mon, Kakipii!"

"H-Hold on-" He turns around, fumbling to pull the ladder back up. In his minds eye, he can imagine the water rising higher and higher and higher, bubbling up into the attic... It's only when the ladder is folded up again and the panel is back in place, bringing the attic into complete blackness, does he feel a little better. His feet are even steady enough for him to stand up, and he blindly gropes his way along. "Ken?"

"Over here, c'mon!"

Chikusa follows his voice, shuffling and bumping into crates and support beams until his feet find the edges of an unfurled rug. "Ken?" A hand reaches up into his wet clothes and tugs him down.

"Yeah, I'm right here."

Carefully, Chikusa kneels down. "...I'm cold."

Not too far away, Ken grunts and Chikusa can hear him roll over. "Yeah, me too. It sucks." There's a patter from impatient hands against the rug. "We should take our clothes off so we're not as cold."

"...Really?"

"Yeah! I mean, I can't see you anyway." A pause, and Chikusa scowls at the sound of a raspberry. "And it's not like you don't have stuff that I don't have!"

"Shut up." Still, it does feel good when he tugs off his waistcoat. The stagnant air of the attic rushes a chill through him, but the goosebumps were already there anyway from the water clinging to his shirt. It's not that bad. Definitely not any worse. He dumps his wet clothes to the side, just in his underwear, and curls up with the rug beneath him. Nearby, there's the slap of clothing hitting wood and he sighs. "You shouldn't throw things."

"No one cares." A rustle, and Chikusa thinks Ken is laying on the rug in much the same way he is. "Except you, dummy."

Maybe he's right, but Chikusa won't admit it. He just fidgets against the rug, glasses digging into the side of his face. It'd be better to take them off, but he's scared- to lose them in the darkness, to not be able to see at all. He's scared of a lot of things, with the rain sounding all the louder here.

Across from him, he feels Ken's hand press into his.

The rain. The darkness. The heat from Ken, curled up not too far away from him.

This is the world Chikusa falls asleep to.

Everything is still dark the next time he opens his eyes, but the rain has stopped and he can feel drool on his shoulder. Groaning, Chikusa squeezes his eyes shut and starts nudging at Ken with bony elbows. "Stop iiiit."

A grunt answers him, and Ken burrows closer. It takes a few more elbow hits and a tug of his hair before the other boy wakes up. "What?"

"Get off me. You're being gross."

"You always say I'm gross."

"You're being gross on me!" While Ken grumbles and they untangle themselves while blind, Chikusa stews on his next words. It's as he's trying to straighten his glasses on his nose that he tries saying them. "...The rain's stopped."

"Yeah... Do you think the whole place is flooded?"

"If it was flooded, then there'd be water up through cracks in the floor... I think." Chikusa pushes himself up to his knees. He's still shaking, just a little bit, but it's not from adrenaline. It's more the loss of Ken's heat against him, burning like hot coals. When he goes to stand up, there only a little wobbling. "C'mon, let's go check."

A lot of shuffling through the dark and Ken stubbing his toe on the latch is needed before they find the panel and ladder. Both of them hold their breaths as it falls open. Light immediately blinds them, too bright for their eyes after hours spent curled up in the attic, and Chikusa recoils with a grimace. Besides him, he can hear Ken curse with the kind of words Chikusa's own parents would despair at. It takes a long moment before his eyes adjust again so that he can stare down at the floor below.

"...There's no water." That's a little bit of a lie. He thinks he can see some stains, here and there, from where rain somehow seems to have pelted the wood and rugs of his parents' room. Still, it's a far cry from the flooded disaster he was dreading.

"Then it's okay!" Before he can protest, Ken is already swinging himself down and jumping halfway down the ladder. Chikusa scrambles to follow after him, ignoring his own trepidation. His feet touch the ground just in time for Ken's whistle. "Hey, hey Kakipii, come and look." He's over by a window when Chikusa looks around, one that's whole and not broken like a couple in the room. His bare hands are plastered against the glass, nose squished up against it, and Chikusa can't fight against the call of Ken's voice and his own curiosity. When he stops besides him, his breath is stolen away.

Rudshore... is more ocean than district. Chikusa can't comprehend it for a second as he stands there besides Ken and gapes. Sunlight reflects off of the water, deceptively serene as though it hadn't rampaged only hours before. From its grasp rise some buildings still, battered and showing obvious signs of wear. Belatedly, it occurs to him to wipe his glasses along the curtains, and the world comes further into focus: shattered windows all along the street, debris floating idly through once bustling streets, and, off in the distance, the crumbled and gaping remains of the barrier which once held the ocean at bay.

The place that was once home is now nothing more than abandoned ruins, left to the sea as an offering.

Chikusa can't find the words for it all as he looks out past the window. He's not sure he even has any. Yet, almost reliably, Ken pipes up besides him to ruin the moment. "Wow, everything is shit now."

That's one way to snap him out of it. Chikusa doesn't scowl at the language, however. Still bare save for the little that covers his modesty, he wraps his arms around himself and shivers. "I don't think anyone is going to come to find us for a while..."

"But, they'll come eventually, right?" Ken stretches his arms up over his head, and it reminds Chikusa of how sore his own body feels. "Because you're a rich family's kid. There's no way your ma and pop would leave you."

Chikusa bites his lip, rubbing at his elbows. "But... Where was everyone else before, then? I woke up and the whole house was empty..."

"Oh. Uh." Ken pauses, brow furrowing as he digs through his mind. It's always easy to tell when he's trying to remember something or is frustrated. He wears all his emotions on his sleeve. Chikusa likes watching his expression change. Now, especially so. It distracts him from everything else. "Well, it was supposed to only be me and some of my family, right? Because some people couldn't come work because... I dunno, I wasn't listening, whatever, it's not important. So all of us had to go when we needed to get stuff for the house. We were up near, you know, Knight Street, and then everyone started talking about how the dam was gonna break soon because it was storming so hard and about how it might be better if we just left..." His hands jerk about clumsily as he gestures, trying to explain that way. "But I remembered you were still here, so I came back."

Something warm and painfully twisting is in his stomach. Still, there's a question he can't help but wonder about. "All the streets looked like they were going to be flooded, 'tho... How did you get up to the second floor?"

"I just broke a window to get inside." A pause, and Ken wrinkles his nose. "...Actually I broke a bunch of windows. There was a bunch of people in the streets, and it was easier, so, I did it."

"But... Doesn't that mean your family will notice you're missing, too?"

"Naaah." Ken rocks back and forth on his feet. "I mean, my family is huge. There's a bunch of kids. I don't think anyone'll miss me."

"Well, I mean." Tentatively, Chikusa reaches over to link his fingers through Ken's. "I missed you."

Ken blinks in befuddlement at their linked hands for a moment, face slack in surprise, but before Chikusa can worry that he's messed up somehow- there's a wide grin. The other boy doesn't say anything, he just excitedly swings their hands faster and wider. That's... probably normal. It's when he starts stomping his feet, almost hopping a little in place, that Chikusa becomes sure of two things:

One is that there's no fighting the incredulous expression on his face.

Two is that Ken is even weirder than he thought.

Before he can ask what on earth is wrong with him, Ken twists around dragging Chikusa with him. "Let's go explore the rest of the house!"

"Wh- Ken, hold on, we need to get dressed!"

Considering most of Rudshore is apparently underwater, which includes some of the on-site servant quarters, the only thing they can do is go to Chikusa's room. Predictably, nothing of his actually fits Ken. Chikusa's clothes dangle past his hands and pool at his feet. A good few minutes of their time is rolling up sleeves and pants legs until Ken can actually walk around without tripping over himself. It's then and only then that Chikusa gives the go-ahead for them to explore the rest of the house. Everywhere in the third floor is mostly fine, save for wind-scattered objects and a little rain having intruded through broken or blown open windows. It's when they start to go down to the second floor that Chikusa has to follow Ken's example and roll up his own pants.

It's not... completely flooded. That is to say, it only goes halfway up Ken's calf when they reach the floor. There's no helping the pained noise that bubbles out of Chikusa's throat when he sees the water extend to the library and his father's study. All the books... Ken's hand, still warm in his own, tugs him away from the sight until they're at the stairs.

Ken squints. "I think the whole first floor is gone..."

As if on cue, Chikusa's stomach twists and rumbles. He curls his free hand over it in embarrassment. "The kitchen is on the first floor... We can't not eat, Ken." He's read things about people starving. It sounds slow and painful.

"Yeah, I'm hungry too." He tugs Chikusa along past the stairs. "Maybe there's stuff in some of the other houses! We can get to the neighbor's house through the windows I broke. Everyone left their stuff behind when they ran off, so they can't complain if we have it!"

Chikusa thinks this over carefully as they wade through the water. After a minute or so, he nods. "They'll understand it was necessary," he agrees. There's no one that would say otherwise to a pair of starving children, right?

Getting over to the next building isn't as scary as he works it up to be in his head. As Ken clears out the rest of the glass, letting it plink into the water just outside the window, Chikusa looks at the distance. It's only really a decent jump from one building to the other... And there is the water right there beneath them. Still, his fingers knead into Ken's shirt. "It'll be fine, right?"

"I was doing it a bunch of times," Ken promises. "Watch me!" He gets up onto the window sill, and Chikusa sticks nearby to do just as asked. Ken makes it look so easy, legs tensing before he jumps over to the open window across from him. Chikusa's heart leaps into his throat when Ken lands and wobbles, looking as if he'll fall for that brief moment, before he breathes again as his best friend just steps into the building proper with a stumble. Turning around, Ken presses his knuckles to his hips proudly. "See? Now you do it!"

Still more than a little nervous, Chikusa braces his palms against the window frame and pulls himself up. His feet are unsteady on the narrow ledge. Below him, the water... It's so deep. So dark. Somewhere inside its greedy maw, he can see something flick and disappear. He thinks of slipping and being pulled under, of losing his breath, and nearly steps away.

Right as he thinks of refusing, he looks up. Ken is there, watching expectantly and tensed as if he'll jump back again. Chikusa swallows. If he stays, he'll be alone again. He'll be alone for however long Ken will be gone, and what if he doesn't come back one day? Fear strikes through him sharper than the sting of water and, before he knows it, Chikusa is leaping. There's the window sill- and then he's slipping with a yelp, flailing as he starts to fall forward. Before his legs can fall out from under him, however, there's hands grabbing his arms and tugging him forward. The two of them stumble into the room, nearly falling one way or the other before finding stability. Chikusa's heart is pounding in his chest so hard his bones might break, and he digs shaking fingers into Ken's shirt. In response, Ken holds him just as tightly.

"We made it!" he proclaims, dragging Chikusa along through the flooded building instead of letting him stand there and shake. Chikusa only nods mutely.

Sticking close together, they explore the house. The floors that can be traversed don't offer them much in the way of food, unfortunately. That's the bad news. However, the third floor offers whale oil bottles and shoulder bags along with other things like blankets and clothes. Chikusa keeps it in mind, even as he takes two bags for himself and Ken. Much the same can be said for the next house they go through, and then the next. It's when they backtrack to explore the house behind Chikusa's that they find any success.

When they reach the third floor, Ken nearly jerks Chikusa's arm out of its socket, a wide grin on his face. "Kakipii, look!" It's easier said than done when he's trying not to tangle his feet together and his bangs are in his face. When he's finally straightened up, Ken has dragged them over to a woman's vanity. It's a woman's room in general, Chikusa thinks, because there's still a faint smell of floral perfume amidst the scent of rain him and Ken bring with them. There, proudly displayed, is a fruit basket that is ridiculous in how opulent it is. Chikusa's parents have always been a bit more somber, even with all their riches. This is the kind of thing that only was ordered for the parties really meant to impress, and here it is on someone's vanity.

He's not surprised in the slightest to see Ken already reaching for it with a wide grin on his face. Then again, with the gnawing in his stomach, Chikusa doesn't care. Relief washes through him, and he shares the grin Ken levies his way as they both grab for a fruit.

Hunger, as it turns out, doesn't really allow for much thought. There's only the satisfying sweet taste over his tongue as he bites through a peach, the sunlight pouring down on him as they settle in front of a window, and Ken's comforting sturdy presence leaning against him.

When he finishes, peach filling some of the hollow ache of his stomach and his tongue licking juice away from his fingers, that Chikusa comes to. "No, no," he says, swatting at Ken's hand as he reaches for an apple. "We shouldn't eat anymore."

Ken scowls at him, not appreciating how he's being held back. "Why? I want to eat all of it!"

"But if we eat all of it right now, what will we eat later?" As Ken pauses at that fact, Chikusa frowns to himself and kneads his fingers into his pants leg. "...I wanna eat more too. But... If we're not careful, we'll eat up everything before someone can find us. So... We should bring this back home, and put it in the attic where we went to sleep. That way we know other things won't get it." It's the responsible thing to do, he thinks, and it makes him feel a little proud of himself. He can make sure Ken has food to eat. He'll watch over him too, just like he promised.

Not that Ken seems to really appreciate all this thought being put into place, judging by the raspberry he makes. "Uuuuugh, I hate it when you pull smart stuff like this." He sends another hungry look towards the basket. "That means we'll get to eat it for dinner tonight, right?"

"Yeah. And if we find anything else, we can make that a part of dinner too."

"...Do we have to wait that long..." He tears his hungry glance away from the basket to pout at Chikusa. "C'mon, Kakipii!"

He really wants to refuse, but the little he's eaten just puts that bit of emptiness in his stomach in stark contrast to everything else. Surrendering, he reaches into the basket again. "We can share a Tyvian pear together."

"Oh like that book!"

It takes a second for Chikusa to parse his meaning, but when he does, he nearly drops the pear with a red face. "It's nothing like that book!" At his red face, all Ken does is laugh. Stopping it means shoving pear pieces into his face.

By the time they go through the rest of the house, gathering whatever they can into their bags, the air is thick with humidity as they hop back home. Definitely too humid to keep exploring. The worst of the day is passed back in Chikusa's room, with books salvaged from the library and Ken's head on his lap.

It's... almost nice. Nicer than the stifling confines of his life before.

"How long do you think it will take them to find us?" Chikusa asks when they've retreated to the attic after night has fallen, the soft blue glow of a whale oil lamp illuminating the dark space. His hands stay busy, organizing books and trinkets he'd brought up while Ken napped. His parents will be glad of it, maybe. "A day, a couple of days...?"

Unlike him, Ken doesn't do so well in such a small dark space, but there's no exploring in the night. The waters robbed all power, too, and there's no one else to light the street lamps. Chikusa watches him pace impatiently, his body dipping in and out of the circle of light. A frustrated groan echoes out from the darkness. "I hope it's soon, it's so boring being up here! And I already ate the fruit for dinner..."

"Go to sleep, Ken."

"But I'm so booooored!" He ducks into the light again, flopping onto his stomach all over the rug. "We should have brought fun stuff up here, too..."

Chikusa only half hears him. His hands are moving, but his mind is elsewhere entirely. "If they don't find us tomorrow... Then we're going to have to keep finding food. And whale oil. And, and..." He pauses, thumb rubbing against the wood of his mother's jewelry box.

A pinch of his thigh snaps him out of it, and he looks down at Ken who's crawled over to him. He pokes his leg again. "Now who has to go to sleep? You think too much."

"And you don't think at all, so I have to think for both of us."

"Yeah, well, you suck-!" Chikusa yelps as Ken tackles him to the ground, and it quickly dissolves into choked giggles because of the fingers digging into his sides. He flails ineffectually, jerking beneath Ken and trying to squeeze his arms down to block the attack. There's no fighting against Ken, however. Chikusa laughs until he feels dizzy and tears are flooding past his cheeks. He wheezes when Ken rocks back, still sitting on top of him, and he can barely see the other boy's triumphant grin. "Dumb Kakipii."

Wiping at his eyes, Chikusa tries to own his own small smile. "You cheated."

"Nuh uh! You were being dumb, so it's fair."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It makes great sense." Straightening his glasses, Chikusa watches as Ken sticks his tongue out at him. "You were being dumb. You don't have to worry about all this stuff when I'm around. I told you I'd take care of you."

Ken shuffles off him, looking proud, and Chikusa sits up shaking his head. "And I said I'd take care of you first, remember?" Letting Ken process that, Chikusa reaches over to reach for the jewelry box that had tumbled across the floor. "You can take care of me... tomorrow. When we go out again to explore. You can make sure I'm safe, and I'll make sure we get everything important."

He watches Ken roll the idea around in his head for only a quick second before there's a bright grin and a nod. "Yeah! Where are we gonna go explore tomorrow?"

For a moment, he flounders. He hadn't thought- but then again, it's not like there's anyone else to tell them what to do. "Uh... Is there anywhere you wanna go?"

"Ummm... Oh!" Ken snaps his fingers. "We should go to the Erfeches."

"Erfeches?" His brow furrows. "They're across the street, so it's gonna be hard... Why that house?"

"'Cuz the guys who live there are jerks and I hate them."

Well, Chikusa guesses he can't argue with that logic. He nods. "Then we'll figure out a way to go to the Erfeches." His hand smooths over the jewelry box and he frowns at Ken. "My parents are gonna be upset at how this is scratched..."

"We don't have to tell 'em it was us! We can say it was the storm!"

As it turns out, they don't have to worry about what to say to Chikusa's parents. No one comes for them the next day.

Or the day after.

Or the whole week.

They move the important things up to the attic. This includes just about all the books from the library, of course, which is a whole big thing that takes an entire day inbetween their exploring. Chikusa lets organizing them occupy his nights sometimes, something simple and repetitive that doesn't really take a lot of effort. Oftentimes, he falls asleep curled in front of a stack of books and inevitably wakes up with Ken somehow having found his way to him again in the night curled up against his stomach. Blankets, tools, nearly everything salvageable from his father's study, and clothes are among the other things they gather both from what's not flooded of their own house and in the houses they venture into. Slowly, day by day, they collect quite the hoard. When they go to sleep, it's in a nest of blankets, and when they eat, they choose from a pile of cans full of potted whale meat or jellied eels. It's not fine dining, but neither Chikusa or Ken can complain too much when their stomachs twist.

Still... The dilemma runs circles through Chikusa's head. In the past, he's always listened to Ken's complaints about little things like problems at the grocers or the grossness of the docks ever since the other boy first realized he'd listen. He knows better than to just assume that they'll be able to keep finding battered tins. Things like that don't magically replenish.

After all, no one lives in Rudshore but them now.

Well, them and the hagfish. From the makeshift bridges him and Ken put together connecting the windows, Chikusa stops one day to watch the water. Some places are clearer than others. It makes it easier to watch their long slick frames drift beneath the boards. In front of him, Ken stops because he has, and his warm palm squirms in Chikusa's hand. "Does one of them have a finger in its mouth?"

"Ew, no." Chikusa shakes his head, nose wrinkling. "I was just thinking... I wonder how hard it would be to catch one."

"Well, hagfish'll eat anything, s'what I've heard. Even each other." Ken crouches down, the wood beneath him creaking a little bit. It won't break, of course. It was once a table made of Tyvian lumber and apparently that never breaks. What Chikusa is far more concerned with is how Ken reaches his fingers just barely into the water and wiggles them. In the murk, a sharp twist, pale eyes, the glint of long fangs- Ken jerks his hand up out of the water right as the hagfish snaps its jaw up and Chikusa shouts.

"Ken!"

Nothing but laughter, although some of it is a little jittery. "They're huge!"

"Don't do that!" Chikusa fingers dig into Ken's knuckles and around his arm. More than he wants to admit, his voice and body shakes. Something about it seems to get Ken's attention, because he stops laughing and nudges his head against Chikusa's.

"I'm fine, see?" He holds up his hand, mostly clear except for a few tiny scratches and calluses. It's a mirror of Chikusa's own, a show of the life they're sharing together. "You're such a scaredy cat, Kakipii. Nothing's gonna hurt me!"

That's almost definitely not true, but Chikusa tries to let it comfort him as the two of them stand up together. "...It looks like if that latched onto you, it'd hurt a lot."

"They do have really long teeth." Ken leads the way into the next building, where the shade is a relief from the beat of the sun outside. "And it'd be hard to grab them, because they're so slippery." Thoughtfully, he sticks his tongue out and curls it up over his lips. Honestly, it's kind of gross. It always makes him look like he's trying to stick his tongue up his own nose.

"Yeah... We'd have to use bait, or something." The idea doesn't sit well with him. They're precarious with food as it is. Can they really afford to use some of it on an idea that might not even work? There's a bump against his shoulder, and Chikusa blinks his way out of his own thoughts. Ken tugs him along.

"C'mon, Kakipii. You can worry about it later. I bet up where the water is more shallow, there's lots more food people left behind."

And for once, Ken is right. Food is found farther then they've ever gone before, in a building where the first floor has water that only goes up to their waists instead of the ceiling. Chikusa nearly gasps when he peers around a doorframe in the backrooms. It's the first time he's seen a kitchen in over a week and there, piled high on counters, are boxes. He can't even speak. All Chikusa can do is tug Ken away from where he's been side eyeing the water. Something deep in his chest swells in satisfaction when he sees the way his best friend's eyes light up at the sight. "Do you think it's all still good!?" Ken babbles in excitement as they stumble through the water, letting go of Chikusa's hand to help heft himself up onto the counters. Chikusa, in contrast, tries to wade through the water to a door nearby. A pantry, probably. Some things on the counters- a can opener, a couple of knives, useful things- he snatches up on the way there to shove into his bag.

Behind him, he can hear Ken going through one of the boxes and whooping. "I think there's actually bread in this! And it's not moldy yet!"

Bread. More tins. Maybe even other stuff, depending on what's safe in the pantry. Excitement thrums through Chikusa.

Getting the pantry door open through all the water is tough. In all honesty, it's more a job for Ken than Chikusa. Still, he manages just enough for there to be a gap he can slip through. Light dimly lights up the room, reflecting off of the water and casting strange shadows on the wall. Something about it speeds his heart up. Too small a space, water too cold as it envelops his legs. Chikusa forces the feeling down. This is for food. This is for Ken. He's more important than Chikusa's feelings. Opening one of two ice chests is easier than the pantry door, and so much is still full of food. Chikusa would wonder about it, but he knows why there's food left behind like this in comparison to the growing lack of paintings or rugs as they've come further from the deeper parts of Rudshore. It's the same reason his mother's jewelry box lays up in the attic with all the more sensible things. For now, he focuses on what's in front of him: all this food that's been able to last thanks to the coolness of shadows and water and what remains of the ice.

It's right as he's shoving some Serkonan sausage into his bag that there's the sound of pounding.

Chikusa's heart leaps into his throat.

Immediately he stops what he's doing and wades back to the cracked open pantry door. The pounding continues the entire time, hitting a crescendo of wood splintering and falling into the water. Ken is still on the counters, but he's made his way to the ones by the door while drawn down on all fours. With the door opening inwards, he's out of sight to anyone coming in. Spotting Chikusa peering out, he presses one finger to his bared teeth. It's not like he has to tell him twice.

As Chikusa shrinks back into the shadows of the pantry, he holds his breath and listens. Like so many houses of Rudshore now, there's such an emptiness that even the softest creak or drip is often horrendously loud. He's noticed it for days now, sitting in an empty building with Ken on his lap and taking it all in. Silence and echoing noises are what he's used to. Whoever is busting through the front door, however, is making so much loudness that it rattles him down to his core. Chikusa curls his fingers against the doorframe, heartbeat in his ears, and forces himself not to shake as water splashes in some of the other rooms.

The source of it all finally wades through into the kitchen after what feels like an eternity. In the dimness, he seems like more a monster than the gaping jaws of hagfish: tall, rough featured, scowling and swearing under his breath. The hair on the back of Chikusa's neck stands up while he watches him. To be more specific, he watches to make sure he doesn't notices Ken's frame hunched beneath a cupboard. The good news is that he doesn't, attention firmly on the boxes ahead of him. Maybe it's his noisy movements that keep him from not noticing Chikusa's breath and drum-loud heartbeat, because he can't imagine how the man doesn't hear him otherwise.

He's praying, desperately and with everything he has in his meager frame, that nothing happens. The same parts of him that whisper danger whenever wood seems too weak or water too deep are yelling it in his ear now.

All that prayer goes straight out the window when the man starts to go through the box and, after tucking a tin in his pocket, starts to pick it up. An enraged shriek rebounds through the kitchen, nearly stopping Chikusa's heart, and Ken is yelling even as he leaps at the man from his perch. "That's OURS!"

Chikusa wants to yell, to do something, but his body is frozen up completely- the first of the flood all over again, as if the water is coiled around him even though it's only up to his waist. All he can do is watch with his voice lodged in his throat. Ken is a flurry of indignation and possessiveness, attached to the man's back and shoulders while his fingers try to claw at his face. It's hard to tell what's louder, his enraged yelling or the barrage of vicious ugly swears that fall out of the man's face as he flails and stumbles through the water. For a brief solitary second, Chikusa thinks maybe Ken will do it, Ken is always saying he's strong, maybe he'll win and he'll be okay-

Reaching over his shoulder, the man grabs Ken by his shirt. Chikusa flinches back as he's flung against one of the counters and the sharpness of his pained yelp. Crumpling into the water, he doesn't even have time to resurface before he's grabbed again and hauled up. Slamming Ken against the cupboards, the man snarls. "You little bastard! I'm gonna cut you up for the damn hagfish-" Ken's arms are so short compared to his, his nails can only scrabble against his hand and wrist. There's nothing he can do as the man, from his pocket, fishes out a knife.

Everything in the world twists in Chikusa's eyes. He's submerged again, the world slow, his lungs robbed of air. He's going to kill Ken. He's going to kill Ken. The only person who's ever truly looked at Chikusa, the only person who's come back for him, the only one who's cared, and this stranger is going to rob Chikusa of all of that. His body moves independently of his frozen mind, not needing any input, and Chikusa feels like an outsider looking in as he watches his hand reach into his bag. The handle of the kitchen knife fits awkwardly in his hand, but the way he grips it with the white of his knuckles showing past skin makes up for it in spades. Ken's ruckus is the perfect distraction, his feet lashing out to make up for his lack of reach and prolonging the plunge of a knife. The man doesn't notice Chikusa wading through the water behind him.

Not until Chikusa pulls back his arm and thrusts the knife point as hard as he can into the back of his thigh.

It sinks in so easily. Distant and detached, Chikusa marvels at the fact. It slides out easy, too, just in time as the man gives a shout. He drops Ken as he crumples, but Chikusa doesn't stop. The motion of his arms and the knife is almost mechanical. He doesn't even need to think about it. Again, the knife pierces through from the back this time but it's a little harder. Images of anatomy books spread out beneath his palms flicker through Chikusa's mind. Compact muscle and bone, not like the softer flesh in the leg. Brought down like this, he's perfectly in reach for Chikusa to adjust the hold of the knife and drive it in again between his shoulder blades. All the yelling and the squelch of flesh becomes farther and farther away, his hands moving again and again and again, and soon enough the world is quiet and the only thing that exists are his hands moving-

Chikusa's vision jerks. It takes him a second to realize there are arms wrapped around his chest from behind, and that he's being dragged away. As the world comes back into focus, so does the sound reach his ears again. "-pii, c'mon, quit it, he's dead already, Kakipii!"

It's Ken, his voice right next to Chikusa's ear. He stops moving his hands, realizing belatedly that there's blood smeared and wet along the skin there. All the water has made it more pink than crimson, a color nearly lost in the gloom. Chikusa stares at the sight, quiet, and that allows Ken plenty of time to let go of him and circle around. "About time! I was yelling at you for ages!" Before he can gear up into a proper rant, however, Ken pauses and squints his eyes at him. "...Kakipii?"

He needs to answer him. Chikusa knows this. It takes him a second, however, to remember how to speak. "Huh?" He sounds far away even to his own ears; who knows what Ken hears. It's enough to make the other boy frown, however, brow furrowed.

"...Are you okay?" The answering nod from Chikusa doesn't seem to convince him. As Chikusa watches, Ken fidgets and squirms in place. Whatever he's wondering or whatever he really wants to say, he can't seem to get it together. After a moment, Chikusa can see where he gives up as he glances back to... oh.

The body of the man is still there. They both stare at it as it floats there, ripples fluttering out from the water that has now been made a little more pink. There's more knife wounds than Chikusa remembers making, in more places than he remembers seeing.

Ken breaks the silence which has once more taken over the house. "It's... really easy to kill someone, huh?"

Instead of a solid affirmative, all Chikusa can manage is a soft sound fluttering out of his throat, about as strong as a newborn bird. He agrees, of course, so why can't he say it? Speaking isn't hard. Sometimes he acts like it is, but it isn't, not really. While he ponders this mystery, Ken frowns again and seems to bristle from his head to his toes.

"You're acting weird!" he declares, grabbing Chikusa's hand. With no resistance, he drags Chikusa back to the stairs and up to the second floor. Lost in thought, Chikusa barely notices the journey. What draws his fascination is being able to observe how limp his body is in Ken's grip, putting one foot in front of the other by less thought and more automation. When he finally starts paying attention to everything else again, Ken has dragged him to a stop at the window they first entered through. Ken's hands on his shoulders push him down easily, knees folding neatly beneath Chikusa's body. The ease of it seems to disturb Ken, his jaw tense and his furrowed brows only pressed tighter together. "Okay... Okay, you, uh, you stay here! You stay here and organize all the food and stuff, and I'll bring the other stuff up! And if anybody else comes, we'll just run, 'cuz we got a lot already." He pauses, pursing his lips as he watches Chikusa expectantly. "...Okay?"

Talking goes smoother this time. "Okay," Chikusa echoes back, although the voice that leaves his mouth doesn't sound like his own. Still, just being talked to seems to reassure Ken. The way he's gone all bristle smooths out a bit. It doesn't stop him from constantly looking back over his shoulder at Chikusa constantly until he's finally gone through the doorframe and turned into the hall.

Organizing things, as it turns out, is a good way to keep his body occupied. Cans and jars and bottles all click against each other, glass against metal, sharp little noises which keep him focused on the world instead of drifting away. They're the only things keep him there. Well, them and Ken, who checks on Chikusa every time he brings an armful of stuff up.

In the end, no one comes. They don't have to make a run for it. With bags and packs bulging, him and Ken make their escape back down into the depths of Rudshore. There's no end to the glances Ken sends his way, whether crossing makeshift bridges or venturing through abandoned buildings, and Chikusa wishes he could make him stop. He wishes he could make himself stop whatever it is he's doing.

Yet it's nothing he knows how to control.

That point is driven home when they pass through the ruined remnants of a bedroom, once pristine glass blown through and reflecting a myriad of colors from the sunlight filtering through the open panes. Suddenly, there's... Chikusa abruptly comes to a stop, and Ken stops with him, tensing up. He can feel him tensing up- his hand still slick in Chikusa's loose grip from humidity and the water they've traversed, the heartbeat still pulsing hotly at his palm, rows upon rows of calluses and a long jagged scratch across the joint of his thumb that presses up unevenly from his skin. From Ken's hand, up his arm and to his shoulder where the straps of the bags have dug in so much that the aches there are dangerously close to numbness. From his shoulder, up to his face-

There's a tackiness there.

He knows what it is.

The wail that rises up out of his throat leaves it tender and knocks all the energy out from his legs. Chikusa crumples to the ground, tears welling up in his eyes, and Ken trips over himself in his urgency to turn around. "Kakipii!"

Fumbling hands reach out to grasp one another, but Chikusa can't stop crying. He's himself again, and everything he did wasn't just a bad dream. It was real. Things are real. What he did can't be taken back, and he squeezes Ken's hands desperately. Sobs wrack his body as Ken watches helplessly on.

"Kakipii, what's wrong, are you hurt, what happened, this isn't funny-!"

"They're never going to come back for me now!" Chikusa wheezes. The words come out rough and wet like he's swallowed sand. "Never! I- I did something bad, I did the worst-" All he can think about is when Overseers had come calling the last year. His parents have always held them in esteem, for as long as Chikusa can remember, and they've had them visit to be on the Abbey's good side. How many times has he had to sit patiently in front of a towering and masked figure, listening to words intoned to him? How many times had he patiently recited those same words back, all for a glimmer of attention from his parents' nods and praise from a masked stranger? He starts to babble them out, as if they can clean the sin from his hands. "R-Restrict restless hands, unfet-fettered by honest labor, they rush to deeds of violence-" Tears are rushing down his face, pushed out by the sting behind his eyes. All he can see is that mask and that symbol. "What- what value a-are hands th-that steal and k-kill and-"

"Shut up!" Chikusa hiccups into silence, blinking away tears as Ken comes back into focus. It's hard to tell if it's the tears or just the natural state of all the red that's rushed up to Ken's face that makes his skin seem like a blotch of passionate color. "Shut up, Kakipii! He- he was gonna kill me! You heard what he was sayin'! You were protecting me! And, and, who cares if they never come back for us!? I'll take care of you! I'll take care of you and protect you and everything! We don't need anyone! So shut up!" As Chikusa's vision clears a bit, it's easier to see how Ken's face has contorted into an expression of distress.

He hiccups again. "I'm... sorry..."

Ken snuffles, the sound like a small engine revving up. "You're so dumb."

"The Overseers..."

"I don't care! Their masks are dumb anyway."

They're a little scary, actually, in Chikusa's opinion, but he doesn't say that. He just squeezes Ken's hand. "...I didn't want him to kill you."

"Well, I didn't want to be killed either." Grunting, Ken gets up to his feet and pulls Chikusa up with him. "C'mon... It's gonna get dark soon. We gotta get home quicker." True enough, the sky is starting to settle into warmer colors than the wash of clear blue and serene white clouds. They barely make it in time back home, fumbling to get the ladder to open. Some stale bread and cider later, they turn off the lamp and curl against each other like they have for so many days now. Yet in the silence and darkness, Chikusa still can't fall asleep.

As it turns out, neither can Ken. He shifts in their blanket nest and his fingers knead Chikusa's shirt. It takes some time before he speaks. "...Hey, Kakipii."

"What?"

"...That guy said he was gonna feed me to the hagfish."

"...Yeah."

"...They'll eat anything, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I was just thinkin'... I mean, he's dead. So if he's still there tomorrow..."

"...That's gross, Ken."

"Yeah, well, it'd be bait, right? So we could get hagfish to eat." He wiggles against him. "...You don't have to come if you want."

Chikusa thinks about it, about being left alone again in the emptiness of the house, only himself and his breathing- his fingers dig into Ken's sides with more force than he means, without his input. "I'm coming."

For all that his fingers must hurt at least a little, Ken doesn't seem bothered. If anything, an undercurrent of relief runs in his voice when he answers. "Okay."

In the morning, they set off again.

The body is still there.

Getting it back home along with bags of whatever they had missed the first time is tough.

Chikusa tries not to think about it too much, even as Ken teaches him how to roast fish over the flame of an upper floor fireplace.

"Ken?"

Upstairs, the sun makes the house unbearably warm. For today, they've retreated down to the flooded floor. Some of the jars Chikusa keeps down here in the water, where they have at least a little protection against the heat and last a bit. He can only hope they do anyway. Today, however, isn't about the jars. It's him and Ken, wading in the water. Well, Chikusa is wading, keeping near the stairs. Ken has already swum all the way to touch the railings opposite of the stairs. At Chikusa's voice, he glances back.

"What?"

"I... don't know how."

"How what?"

"How to swim."

"Whaaaaaat?" Immediately, he starts to splash back. Chikusa raises a hand to shield his face from the water going everywhere. "How can you not know how to swim!?"

"It's not like anyone taught me," he grumbles back, frowning at Ken's wide teasing grin. "Not everyone just knows."

"I bet people totally just know." Ken stops making a mess as his feet find the stairs. "Alright, c'mon, I'll teach you how to float. Just lay back in the water and I'll hold you."

"You better not drop me..."

"I won't!" Ken huffs at him until he complies, turning around and trying to lay down like he would anywhere else. "No, c'mon- you're gotta spread your arms and legs out." Still, as Chikusa tries to get the hang of it, Ken does as he promised. His hands don't feel any hotter or warmer than the water they're in, and they're a comfort where they press along the plain of Chikusa's back. Laying there, it's simple to close his eyes and focus on nothing but the sound of Ken's breath and the calluses on his fingertips.

"Ken..."

"Okay, I think you got it-"

"No one's coming back for us, are they?"

Ken falls silent. Chikusa doesn't open his eyes to try and analyze the expression on his face. He keeps talking, voice soft.

"It's been over two months now. I've been counting the days. If they really wanted to find us, they'd have done it before now, right?"

"I guess..." He sounds reluctant to admit it, and Chikusa can practically feel his eyes focused on him and nothing else. He doesn't have to. Chikusa isn't going to cry this time, and he isn't going to 'leave' either. He simply takes a breath.

"We should go into the rest of the city."