Akira stayed silent, watching the Executioner's back as he pulled on that gray short-sleeved shirt. The last thing he wanted was for the Executioner to realize that he was awake. Sunlight filtered in through the window, letting him know without a clock that it was mid-morning. Maybe 9 or 10. It was the ideal time for breakfast, but he wasn't hungry. These days, he never was. He still hadn't eaten, not that his body was complaining. The less often he ate, the less often his stomach demanded anything from him.

"…!"

The loud jingle of chained tags hitting the floor startled him. Kiriwar pulled his green jacket off a table, knocking those tags off with it. And just as Akira jumped, Kiriwar paused, noticing his awareness.

"My bad, princess." His attention turned to Akira, and his body shifted, Akira's eyes following, and pointed out two distinct items on the table. A different sandwich and a bottle of water from yesterday. "Hungry?"

Keeping his eyes intently on the Executioner, Akira shook his head. A clear refusal. Even though it didn't seem like his captor was interested in killing him, or even harming him, for now, he wasn't interested in any kind of hospitality the Executioner might have to offer. On the other hand, he knew where the bathroom was – a good excuse to escape Kiriwar's vicinity. Without doing so intentionally, he noted the position of the metal pipe on the floor, across the room. Good. He sat up, pushing himself to the edge of the bed, when suddenly the Executioner turned and crossed the already too-close-for-comfort distance between them.

"Goin' somewhere?" Kiriwar then leaned over and placed his hands on the bed, on either side of Akira.

Akira froze, immediately regretting moving. He should have waited until the Executioner had left the room. His mouth opened.

"Bathroom." He replied coldly, not saying more than he needed to.

A grin pulled at the Executioner's face at the sound of Akira's voice. "Need to primp yourself up, princess?"

A laugh.

"No need to."

Those eyes moved from Akira's face to the mess of his hair and his clothes. It was making Akira nervous. Because Kiriwar wasn't saying anything. It looked as if he were contemplating something. He wanted something. This was the last thing Akira wanted to happen, draw attention to himself.

"Hm."

He almost flinched at the sound of the Executioner's voice.

Kiriwar chuckled, then leaned in closer, leaving only centimeters between their faces. "I kinda wanna have some fun first. Before I leave ya."

Akira's body moved out of its own accord, almost throwing itself backwards when Kiriwar shifted the slightest bit. And the next thing he knew he lost his balance, and he was falling backwards. His eyes caught onto the Executioner's face. Kiriwar blinked and moved quickly, the grin gone from his face in an instant.

"Shit."

Before Akira's head hit the ground, a hand cradled around the back of it, and the both of them landed from an awkward fall – half on the bed and half on the floor. Akira opened the eyes he didn't realize he'd shut and reoriented himself. What was that? His sense of balance was worse than he remembered, and now… he felt sick, nauseous. He shut his eyes again, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Hey." Kiriwar's voice pervaded his ears again. "You gonna throw up? Feelin' sick or somethin'?"

Akira clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to resist the urge to gag. Then in the next moment, he felt himself get lifted up into the air and felt the Executioner's pacing across the room. A door creaked open then he was placed back onto the ground, his head right over the toilet in the bathroom. Just as soon as he recognized where he was, he coughed. The acid in his stomach burned his throat, but nothing came out his mouth. Now he realized just how empty his stomach was. It was a painful sensation to be throwing up while hungry.

He didn't know exactly how long he knelt there, gagging and coughing, before he was able to force his seizing throat to relax. Then, he sat there, calming his breathing. There was a hand at his back, Kiriwar's. There wasn't much room in his mind for registering anything else however. His head was killing him.

"Definitely got a concussion."

You think?

Akira almost scoffed at the diagnosis, slightly bitter and frustrated at the same time. Then something cold touched his lips. He opened slightly blurry eyes to see a water bottle held there. Without hesitation, he gripped right on top of the Executioner's hand and started to gulp it down.

"Not too fast." Kiriwar cautioned.

Akira ignored those words, only seeking to sate his sudden thirst. Then the bottle was pulled away. He turned his head to glare at the Executioner, but that gaze was just met evenly.

"Hey. You'll just make yourself sick again."

Whatever pseudo-concern this was, Akira didn't care to think about it more. He let out a harsh sigh. Now that this painful episode was over, he just wanted to clean himself up. Then go rest again. This vulnerable state of his right now, he hated it. Taking a shower, however, wasn't going to happen while the Executioner was here. Didn't he have to leave already?

A faint voice from some other room reached his ears.

"Jiijii!"

Akira's body tensed. He recognized it. Gunji.

"Still snorin' in there, Jiijii?"

Behind him, Kiriwar answered. "You're loud, brat!"

The high volume hurt Akira's ears and head. This didn't go unnoticed by Kiriwar, who immediately returned to silence. They both heard the sound of the door in the bedroom slam open. Immediately, Kiriwar stood up, and Akira heard him leave the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Voices barely stifled by walls continued to converse in the other room.

"Were ya takin' a shit, Jiijii?"

"Shut it, brat. We're late anyway."

Indiscernible clanking. The Executioner was throwing on his boots, jacket, tags and taking his weapon with him. Akira could visualize. The bedroom door slammed shut once again shortly after, and there was silence. He relaxed, turning to lean back against the wall and shut his eyes. They were gone and likely would be for the next couple of hours. He finally had his solitude and couldn't be more relieved to have it.

He looked around himself. This was the first time he'd seen the inside of the bathroom after all. The first thing his eyes centered on was the faucet and shower head in the corner. If nothing else, he needed a shower.

No one else knew about the pet he took back with him in his room, save for the guards he passed by. Outside of that, he had no intention of letting neither the brat nor 'Bitro know explicitly. It would just be bothersome. They'll just find out eventually. It would be easier to spare the questions this way for now. In the brat's case, he would just get overexcited and try to take the guy for himself. Kiriwar knew just how much the brat favored this specific Igura player from before. Something about the coldness and defiance made him stand out amongst the others. That was the thing though. Kiriwar had no intention of sharing, and it would be a pain in the ass to keep this guy to himself. That was pretty much the motivation behind his sudden exit. Besides, he didn't want Gunji breaking down the door to his bathroom.

This guy was definitely pretty sick. He hit his head too hard before. And those symptoms all screamed concussion. Loss of consciousness, dizziness, confusion – well, the confusion could be attributed to something else. But the vomiting this morning was a big red flag. He didn't sign up to play nurse for a sick person. He was just looking for something interesting to bring back and play with outside of the mundanity of his job. He let out a long sigh.

"What's up with ya, Jiijii?" Gunji, striding just aside, scrutinized him. "Somethin' eatin' ya?"

Damn. If there was anything redeeming to the brat's qualities, it was that he was sharper and more observant than he initially seemed.

"Hungry as fuck." He answered simply.

Brat would take that answer without question.

"Oh yeah. Ya didn't eat last night. Just went straight back to your room to sleep. Gettin' old?" Gunji raised an eyebrow. "Must've been pretty exhausted, huh, Jiijii?"

If he didn't know any better, he might have thought that tone sounded slightly skeptical.

"Yeah, I was." Kiriwar dismissed it, tapping Mitsuko against his shoulder.

"…Hm~"

They continued their long strides, tracing a route through the less populated alleyways, then through the main streets. They almost never touched the neutral zones. At least, not solely for the purpose of patrolling. No Igura fights could even take place inside anyway, so there was no point in visiting. Today, rule breakers seemed particularly inclined to act up, the majority of them Line users, as per usual. A few tag thiefs, no-witness fight initiators, and then there was the random runner. No evidence for any rule breaking, but the general consensus for both the Executioners was strike first, ask questions later. By the runner was down on the ground, no longer able to escape, it was too late not to add him to the day's dead body count. And on this particular day, there were many.

Dark was already beginning to approach by the time they cracked down on one last Igura participant.

"Huh… So he really didn't do anything." Gunji squatted down and poked at the heavyset man with a bloodied claw. "What a fuckin' idiot."

Kiriwar just threw his head back and let out a long exhale. "Another body we gotta clean up."

"Don't worry 'bout it, Jiijii. Don't sweat the details~"

"That's 'cause you ain't gonna be the one to carry it." He retorted, at the same time throwing the man's lifeless body over his shoulder.

He was already tired from the endless stream of cowards and idiots. It was enough having to patrol all day. People just made it more annoying by breaking the rules. Resistance and fighting back were all fair game and added a little excitement to the shift, but damn, lugging around their corpses was a drag.

On this particular day, someone else stood out from the crowd. He didn't seem to be following the crowd or with any other participants in particular, but he just stood there, quietly watching. Brown hair, brown eyes, worn clothes, and a fairly sizeable stature, with an air of nervousness. It looked like the guy had something to say, but he never ended up stepping forward. Kiriwar didn't know what to make of him, not that he was going to going to call him out. What if he started running? And if he started running, they would start chasing. He didn't feel like lugging back another corpse. So he just ignored him. Kiriwar was simply interested in getting back to his room to check in on his sick pet.

"I know you didn't eat all day."

The blatant accusation caught the sick guy off-guard. Kiriwar was staring at him, almost as if he were reprimanding him for not taking care of himself.

"I don't intend on lettin' you make yourself sick." He tilted his head. "Dunno how you lived this long this way."

When he returned to the room, he found the guy sleeping in the bed, and the food on the table beside it – meant for this guy to eat – completely untouched. It had been entire days now since the last time this guy had eaten. Surely, his stomach must be killing him now. But nothing. Kiriwar didn't know if this was the same kind of no-eating-out-of-stress tendency that happens with pets, but he didn't intend on keeping someone sick. It'd be no fun trying to get into the pants of someone constantly about to fall over or throw up. If this guy wasn't going to eat on his own, Kiriwar was going to watch him and make sure he does.

When he first entered, he threw his jacket and tags aside. As soon as he placed Mitsuko on the floor, creating an audible clank, the guy opened his eyes. A light sleeper. Kiriwar hadn't intended on waking him up immediately at the very least. Someone with a concussion needed to sleep. But nonetheless, the guy woke and immediately, the tired haze in his eyes turned into cold guardedness. He was wary. Always wary. Not that he didn't have good reason though. He should be scared. Kiriwar himself knew that he rarely had very good intentions.

"Light sleeper, aren't you?" He spoke aloud, now addressing those guarded eyes. "Still aren't hungry?"

He made a point, leaning against table that held the untouched sandwich and water. This was second time he'd done this after all. What a waste. Kiriwar was actually pretty tired from the day – more rule breakers, dumbass-gutsy drug addicts, and body clean-ups on the street. He wanted nothing more than to unwind, and when he looked down at this guy, a thought crossed his mind, to just take what he wanted, act on his impulse without a care for protest. But. Once again, he pushed that impulse down. It was frustrating. Still, this guy wasn't going to last long if he didn't recover well. Kiriwar sighed.

"Since you obviously won't eat on your own, I'll make you."

It sounded like a veiled threat. It solicited no response.

"You're comin' with me to the kitchen." A hand went to the back of Kiriwar's neck. "I'll make you somethin', and I'll be sure to make you eat it."

This time, the guy's face changed slightly though still unmoving. He raised an eyebrow. Had he expected something else?

The clink of unwashed dishes was a familiar sound. It reminded Akira of his small, dimly lit kitchen back in the CFC. Small cloud of steam rose from the running water, and he watched the Executioner's back as dish and utensil after utensil filled the empty rack to the side. Nostalgic memories of his previous living situation seemed to emerge at random. He wasn't quite sure why. This kitchen was luxurious by comparison, and the only other presence in his own apartment would only ever be no one other than himself.

Or Keisuke.

He lowered the glass in his hand to the counter. For the past minute or two, he'd been lightly sipping at the water, idle. Kiriwar had neither spoken nor turned to him since he started washing dishes. He'd hinted at eating dinner here, but the time was kind of…

Akira's eyes turned to the clock hung high on the wall above the door that connected the kitchen to the dining room. Almost 11 pm. To add to that, he wasn't particularly hungry. Not that the feeling contributed much to when he would eat. Nowadays, he hadn't had much of an appetite. Neither did he make many attempts to sate it. Not since he'd made his way to Toshima.

The ceramic mug made its way back to his mouth again. Then he realized it was empty. Just as he set the mug back down again. Kiriwar had turned to the refrigerator, yanking it open and pulling out what looked like leftover food. Their eyes met briefly.

"Dinner from earlier." Kiriwar turned to the stove. "Lucky brat didn't finish it all off."

Akira had no sense of fancy dish names, but what Kiriwar pulled out looked surprisingly like nothing more than chicken and rice. Not so far-fetched from the sandwiches he'd been living off recently.

The Executioner set both plastic-wrapped plates on the counter and pulled out a pan from a shelf just above the stove and began unwrapping the plastic. Akira blinked. Did the Executioner actually have some cooking skill? He never would have guessed–

After a brief glance at the dishes, the Executioner unceremoniously tossed them into the pan and cranked up the heat.

Oh. So he was just warming them up. How anticlimactic. But what exactly did he expect from leftovers?

For another minute or two, Kiriwar shook the pan around, mixing the meat and rice together, turned off the stove, and pulled a small mat off the same shelf then two spoons off the rack with his other hand. He turned to Akira's direction, dropped the mat in the center and placed the still steaming pan on top of it. Setting one spoon in front of Akira, he sat himself down directly across and turned the pan so that its handle stuck out of the way and to the side.

"Eat up."

Without wasting a second, Kiriwar started digging away at the chicken-rice mix. It wasn't that Akira was skeptic of the meal's edibility, but he just felt a bit taken aback by the strange scenario. Sitting down and eating a mundane meal with the Executioner wasn't something most Igura participants would imagine. Not only that, Kiriwar was hardly saying anything. Still, he looked up at Akira, expecting him to start eating away. He knew Akira hadn't taken a bite of anything since the previous night. So with a decisive inhale, Akira picked up the spoon.

Kiriwar watched the guy poke at the meal. The food seemed fine, smelled pretty good too, so what was stopping him? Maybe princess thought he snuck something in it. No chance of that anyway, he was shoving way more of it down out of the both of them. After an initial hesitation, finally, the guy took a bite.

Funny. The way those eyes lit up. Even if just for a second. He seemed to like it. Good. Though Kiriwar could hardly take credit for 'Bitro's chef. All he himself did was heat it up. Still, it was pretty satisfying to see this guy was capable of enjoying himself, even though it was just eating. He watched those movements intently, noting the change in cautiousness. All this time, princess never let down his guard and made extra effort to avoid contact with him in any way, except with those eyes. This was the first time they sat down and had a proper meal together. Not that he, brat, and 'Bitro really did any of that shit though.

The guy, though less guarded, still kept a good distance away, sitting up somewhat straight and leaning away from the table. Whether or not he was conscious of this himself, Kiriwar didn't know. At the very least, he could see why brat like calling him "Kitty." It suited him. That distant demeanor and cold gaze. So far, he hadn't ever seen this guy without it.

"Tama was checkin' out some other guy back there." He spoke, tapping the iron pipe – Mitsuko – at his shoulder.

"Pochi." Gunji stubbornly corrected.

"Whatever, brat. Pochi was checkin' out some guy back there."

As they kept up their stride back to the mansion, Gunji hummed in thought. "Pochi said he was hungry though. He better make up his mind what to do."

The brat counted out on his hand. "Goin' back to eat. Or goin' for another rule breaker."

Kiriwar sighed, not caring to continue the argument. They were already on their way back. No point in returning to the scene. If whoever that was really had been a rule breaker, he should be smart enough to be long gone by this point. He'd cut it pretty close back there. Only Gunji's impulsive nature saved him.

Looking aside at his partner, he noticed even the brat seemed to be in his own head.

"First time we've seen that guy around here, huh, Jiijii?"

"Yeah."

Sure. It was. New people popped up in Toshima all the time. Just as quickly as dead bodies showed up in the streets.

"Really like those eyes." Gunji spoke up again. "Kinda wanna catch Kitty for myself~"

Kiriwar raised an eyebrow at that statement. So brat really was showing interest in this new face. Not like he couldn't understand though. Maybe it was partly due to the lack of pretty faces around the area, but new guy wasn't too bad. In fact, he himself also shared that interest. Maybe next time he'd also grab the chance to say hi.

Chasing the rule-breaking tag thief – it wasn't too much longer until they ran into the new face again.

He'd finished off over half of the dish already. This guy really didn't eat much. Either way, he was going to leave it to princess to finish off the rest. Nothing since last night and not a single complaint throughout the day. That's got to take a toll. Even if princess didn't have much on him. He set down his spoon and reached for the empty mug on the table. Notably, the guy's attention snapped back to the movement. He didn't shift away or react in any other way – some kind of progress – but he definitely didn't enjoy the Executioner's close proximity. That subtle way of putting a wall between them, somehow, it didn't settle well with Kiriwar. He didn't like it, and a subtle ache unlike anything he'd felt before stirred up his chest.

He didn't let the moment last too long and stood up to get to the faucet. One nudge and running water filled the glass. He turned to lean in front of the sink and downed the water. His eyes locked back onto the silent guy, who was still picking away at the food.

"What's your name?"

He himself was surprised at the words that came out of his mouth. Much less as taken aback as "Kitty" visibly was. There was only a very brief silence before words filled the air between them again.

"Akira."

Akira, huh.

Kiriwar sipped the remaining water in the mug.

What a fitting name. Somehow, the guy sitting before him did look like an Akira. It was surprisingly nice to put a name to the face he'd been looking a lot at recently.

"Are you normally this ravenous?" Kiriwar asked, obviously referring to Akira's lack of attention to the food.

Surprised by the sarcastic comment, Akira blinked, then continued to pick away. "I don't normally eat like this."

"Really? Like this?" He was curious. What was that supposed to mean?

"…Solids. They're cheap and have all the nutritional content you need." Akira answered.

"Huh." The ever-so-infamous solids. Not so high in taste quality but common.

The silence remained pervasive for another awkward stretch of silence. And throughout the entire time not once did Kiriwar his eyes off him. Akira tried his hardest not to show his unsettledness, but it was hard not to be uncomfortable under the Executioner's gaze, not knowing what he could possibly be thinking. He shifted, making a visible effort to take a bite. It wasn't bad or anything. The sauce on the chicken was actually pretty good, and rice was always a comfortable staple. But it was the unfamiliar environment that threw him off. And the Executioner's stare. He set his spoon against the plate with a decisive clink.

"What?" It was half a demand and half a protest.

"Hm?" Kiriwar blinked. "Feelin' uncomfortable, 'Kira?"

At that, Akira completely stopped chewing. Then swallowed. He was caught off guard by the sudden sound of his–

"Seems like you don't like bein' called by name." Kiriwar tilted his head, laughing a bit.

"That's not–" Akira started.

"Then you do?" He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening a bit. "Just say what you mean. …Akira."

Again. Something about the way Kiriwar was speaking was riling him up. Akira narrowed his eyes, then focused his attention back onto the task at hand. Finishing this meal. Speeding up the process, he shoved another spoonful into his mouth.

"Akira." The Executioner was clearly enjoying Akira's involuntary attention to the sound of his name. "Akira. Akira Akira Akira Akira Akira Akira Aki–"

A hand closed over Kiriwar's mouth.

"Stop." Akira closed his eyes, vaguely annoyed. "I get it. You can call by name. Just don't– …You don't need to keep repeating it over and over again. I get it already. Alright?"

A few moments passed without words, and Akira opened his eyes, realizing that he still hadn't released the Executioner. When he looked across the table, Kiriwar's eyes were still on him though. It seems he'd been surprised by the fact that Akira made contact with him at all. Voluntarily. He hadn't moved, his arms still in front of him, leaning forward in Akira's direction. Why was this so intimidating? There was no reason right now to believe that he was in any kind of danger. Maybe it was the fact that the Executioner had absolutely no sense of personal space. Moving without consideration for others. Staring at whatever he felt like staring at. Doing whatever he wanted. But he must be used to doing that. The Executioner being as strong as he was though, there wasn't anyone to keep him in check in the interest of social norms. Akira was ready to break contact already at this point. He pulled away.

But when his hand dropped, immediately, a strong grip closed around his wrist. He froze. Kiriwar pulled so that Akira's upper body leaned over the table, bringing the both of them close. A million thoughts crossed Akira's mind. He had no idea what the Executioner wanted. But a clear recollection came to the fore, the encounter in the alleyway. And immediately any semblance of bearable interaction faded away. He pulled his arm away. And surprisingly, Kiriwar let go. Akira broke eye contact, nausea stirring in his stomach. Not through any fault of the Executioner– Actually, it was because of the injury that was inflicted on him. He probably shouldn't have been eating so quickly.

Kiriwar noticed Akira's face was getting pale. Akira didn't outright look sick, but from the way his eyebrows furrowed and he occasionally closed his eyes, something was up.

"Your head hurts? Tummy ache or somethin'?" Kiriwar asked, eyeing him from across the table.

Akira didn't answer immediately, his eyes shut. After a moment, he spoke up again. "I'm fine."

Hm. Not believable.

"Not gonna throw up again, are you?" He was already almost out of his seat.

"No." A curt answer.

He knew it. The best cure was lots of water and rest. And maybe a couple painkillers wouldn't hurt. He sat there, contemplating for a moment. Then, he stood up. There was something in his bathroom cabinet.

"Be right back. Hold tight, princess."

And just like that, Kiriwar was out of the kitchen. Akira just sat there, watching the heavier kitchen door swing shut. He sure moved fast. Now idle, Akira didn't have much of an idea of what to do. He was about three-fourths done with his meal, but he wasn't particularly intent on finishing it. Not when his stomach was like this.

A minute passed, and Akira absentmindedly stirred at the remaining food. Might as well just push it aside now. Where did Kiriwar go? It wasn't that he was keen to be in the Executioner's company once again, but he preferred it to potentially running into someone else. In this house, there were two other inhabitants in particular that he didn't want to see. He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. If he weren't mistaken, Kiriwar had crossed the hall. Most likely, he had returned to his room. It wasn't too far from here, and the chances Akira would run into someone in the hallway passage at this time of night was fairly low.

His hands pushed against the kitchen exit door out to the hallway, and it swung open easily–

Almost knocking into another person behind it. By the quick side-step, whomever the door nearly knocked into didn't expect it to open. Akira's heart dropped.

An intimidatingly-cut figure, with blond hair and dark tattoos covering an exposed torso and arms. On those sharp facial features were eyes wide open in surprise at first, but then that expression soon changed. He tilted his head with an unsettling grin of recognition. Then locked the door open with one arm, knocking it into the wall stopper behind it, effectively blocking Akira's way with his stature.

Gunji. The other Executioner.

He leaned in, locking his eyes onto Akira's face, and a big grin spread across his face.

"Kitty~!"