"My name is Sakura Shiomi."
The woman with brown hair and the trenchcoat is staring deep into his eyes, and is calm. She's somber, but she knows she has to get this over with as quickly as she possibly can. The boy knows it, too, so he doesn't stop her from talking.
He's lying in his hospital bed, propped up against a bent mattress raising his upper body. The look in his eyes is something she never thought she'd see out of a child. Some part of her thinks he's half-dead already. Her thoughts drift to her own daughter, and she doesn't know if she'd be able to handle it if Kotone were to gain those eyes sometime in the future.
"I was a very good friend of your mother's," she says. She notices something gleam in his eyes when she said mother, but decides against letting this conversation drag out any further. "The day you were born, she told me she wanted me to be your godmother."
He still holds those impassive eyes, glazed over and hardly giving off the impression that he's even paying attention. This is a lot harder than she thought it would be. She didn't think it'd have been that easy a bar to clear. But still. She'll have to push on.
"That day...your parents visited me and my daughter to see us off," she begins, clearing her throat and trying to not be scared of a seven-year-old boy. "We were planning to move to Kyoto the week after, and they wanted to take the opportunity to say goodbye."
He just keeps his eyes on her, not saying a word. The longer he holds his gaze, the harder this gets.
The next few days are uneventful, for both Yukari and Arisato.
She and he haven't exchanged words once, and so ready was he to distance himself from her that he literally got on the monorail an hour prior to her waking up. To avoid awkward conversation or to avoid her, it didn't matter. Point is that he doesn't particularly want to talk to her right now, talk to anybody in the dorm right now, and she obviously knows why; it's just, well, he's not making things easier for any of them.
Kirijo was willing to give him another week. Today is the fifth day in that week. And he's showing no signs of recovery. She didn't think it was possible, but somehow his eyes have gotten colder.
It's awkward to see him during class hours, and surprise surprise he's always sleeping, even when the teacher can plainly see him in broad daylight. During Classic Lit, Ekoda had to slap him upside the head with a small roll of paper just to wake him up, and even when he did stir, he remained lethargic for the rest of the class before sleeping again right as Ekoda walked out the door.
She hears the rumors spreading, of course. Yukari doesn't try to listen to them, herself, but she can't help but hear the things they say about him. They're not as overblown as say, calling Arisato the son of a yakuza head; though they lean towards framing him as a problem child at best, a delinquent, or at the very worst an outright criminal. Which isn't too far off base, considering the files on him...
Someone on student council must've spread this around. Arisato sleeping throughout the day certainly doesn't help his case, though perhaps with the things they say, it's best he remain asleep. Lest he go on a rampage and start cracking skulls with bats or stabbing guts with knives.
Okay, Yukari's going overboard too, but nobody can blame her. After what happened, the mere idea of looking him right in the eye terrifies her to her core. Dad always taught her to be open-minded when it comes to people, but he can't expect her to keep on upholding that in the face of people who're so...closed off.
But he's all alone, too.
She knows it's wrong to project on him her own feelings, but...
He knows what it's like. And he's had it so much worse off than her. It's cruel, what happened to him; even crueller that the Shadows were the ones who took it all away. And she's part of a team trying to draw him back into that world, that world he must desperately want to just run away from.
Why did he even come back here? All the city holds for him is a bunch of unwanted and painful memories.
She decides during third period, after what feels like ages of deliberation, to confront him at lunch.
She's in the classroom right now. In her seat, she hasn't turned to face him in the last thirty minutes. The bell's ringing, and people all over the classroom begin scrambling out the door, there's some sale on Lemon Bread or something, and Yukari has to mentally psyche herself up for the awkwardness that awaits her.
But of course, by the time Yukari manages to make herself face him, she finds that he's not even in his seat at all.
He's in the middle of the world and there's a ringing noise in the ear they smashed with a baseball bat. He does not think his eardrum's ruptured, but there's something seeping out the side of his head, where his temple should be, and for a moment he wonders if that sort of thing's supposed to be fatal until he blacks out and awakens with their shoes in his face and his face on the floor.
She's lying across from him. Face in the dirt, red hair covering her eyes.
Through black eyes he sees a foot rear back and then barrel towards him at what looks like the speed of light, but he manages to catch it with his left hand and toss it aside because he's the world. The guy who tried to cause a divot in place of Minato's nose is now falling and when his face plants itself against the tiles, Minato decides to rear himself up off the ground and get real dangerous.
He's surrounded by what looks like dozens of guys, but he's sure that they only look like they're dozens because his bleeding eyes are seeing triple the amount he's supposed to. They're all hulking over Minato, because of course they are, they're his senpai, they're from the basketball team; they're more physically fit than he'll ever be, what with the twigs he has for arms and the noodles he has for legs.
Minato's not afraid, even when they bark at him and at each other and he hears their words echo like they're speaking through megaphones. Whatever. Minato just needs to beat them, blind them, cripple them.
Then he'll be invincible.
She finds him on the rooftop. After an uncomfortably long period of asking people if they've seen a guy with blue hair and an emo haircut anywhere.
He's just sitting against the railing on the far end of the roof. A piece of bread in his mouth. He spots her, and he retains his dead-fish eye, and he doesn't move an inch from his place. The wind catches his fringe, and she sees that yes, his other eye is still closed.
From his posture to his eyes, Yukari can't help but think that if he wasn't eating any bread right now, she'd mistake him to be a corpse. She's holding her bento box, trying to justify herself and her place here and now. It was awfully embarassing, carrying it around and asking for where the new transfer student was at—it's bound to spread more unwanted rumors, but she can't care. Not now.
"Arisato," she says, dropping the kun because well, they're not close at all, "uh...," crap, say something, you've come this far Yukari, can't go stammering like an idiot now, "is it alright with you if I...?"
Stupid, Yukari, find your voice, speak to him, he's right there and you have all the time in the world —
He eyes her carefully for a moment or so. But then he just bites down on his bread, swallows, and takes out the rest from his mouth. His voice is a little muffled as he mutters, "You want to talk, right?"
She regains her spine, and faces him completely. "Yes."
He just stares at the ground, nodding. "Okay."
She walks over to him, slowly settling herself to his side. She feels a slight burn on her cheeks; though she's still a respectable distance, they're close enough to really face each other. They're literally eating lunch together, side-by-side, on the rooftop of their school; like this is some anime and they're some couple or whatever.
No. Don't think about that. Think about what's right here, right now. There's a guy who's been through some of the worst things you can imagine happening to someone right next to you, and he's willing to talk. He's willing to let you be here.
Don't screw this up. You won't get another chance.
"Arisato, I just wanted to say —"
"I'm sorry," he says suddenly.
She blinks, "Wh-what?"
He rubs the back of his head. "I shouldn't have been so...confrontational. You were just trying to answer my questions."
Her shoulders deflate. She doesn't know how to react to how honest he sounds. "No hard feelings. I understand."
He looks at her, something like curiosity in his eyes. Then he takes in a deep breath, and turns away from her. His voice is monotone as he says simply then, "I think I saw a Shadow once. A long time ago." And she moves in a little closer to him. Just a little. She keeps her eyes on him the whole while, and he does the same when she settles down. "I was born here. I told you I've been aware of the Hour for ten years, right? That first night, I was...I think I saw..."
He can't even say the rest, turning away from her again. His expression just hardens then, and she sees one of his hands shake. She has to ask him. She can't stop herself from it.
"Why did you come back?" He faces her. He knows she means no offense when she asked that question. It's completely legitimate. "If this is so hard for you...why did you come back?"
He shrugs, "Sorry. But that's for me to know."
She thinks to tell him about everything she'd read in his files. She wants to confess she knows about his parents, about the car and the Bridge, and something in her tries to tease out something more. She wants to confide in him, tell him about her family too, tell him he's not alone —
But what kind of person would she be if she were to just do all that?
She doesn't even know him. She just knows what made him.
"I'm sorry," she whispers then.
"For what?" he tells her. "You didn't do a thing. I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd have just left me alone. I know I made things...awkward."
What is she even doing? "I didn't mean to...dredge anything up. I'm sorry if I..."
"Like you said, you didn't mean to," he says semi-assuringly. "Don't worry. But," he clears his throat, "if you ask me, it's a little too convenient that of all the dorms I'm assigned to, I get the one filled with people awake during the...Dark Hour?"
She can't show signs of weakness. She still has her pride. "The chairman of the board help set us up. It's just everyone in the dorm who knows about the Hour. Like I told you."
And then he doesn't talk for another few moments, keeping his eyes groundwards. When he does, his voice is weak. "This whole school...feels wrong. I don't know why. But it does."
She takes in a deep breath, "You haven't the tower, have you...?"
"No," he says. "No I haven't. You said something about that, my first day here. What do you mean?"
She blinks. "Come midnight, the school becomes tall enough to touch the sky. And well, that's just the tip of the iceberg."
"Why?" he asks her. There's something earnest in his eyes as he asks her that. Something scared. "What happened here?"
"We don't know. We're trying to find out, every day. We haven't gotten anywhere. But we're trying. And the higher-ups thought we could've used a few more members. So they wafted through the names of possible candidates, people trying to make it to Gekkoukan." And she takes in a deep breath. Get it over with. "They found you, and dug up your past."
At this he frowns at her, obviously annoyed but restraining himself enough. "You think I'll join your club?"
"I don't. They're hoping you do. But we're not going to force you."
He opens his mouth, almost about to say something. Then he stops, and slumps against the railing. "That's fair, I suppose."
They're both silent again. Neither of them can find it in themselves to talk.
There is only one thing stopping her from explaining just everything. And that's fear. Fear that he may blow up on her, that she might say something wrong, that all this'll come crumbling down and the rift between them will grow even wider than it already is.
So she says nothing. And when she sees him, his expression is something she can't help but feel cold upon seeing.
"Look, it's not up to me. If you want to join the club or not, it's your choice. We won't force you if you refuse us," and then she stands up, leaning against the railing and looking down to face him. "We fight the Shadows. Plain and simple."
He doesn't respond. And she presses on, because trying to sugarcoat things won't help him or her in any way.
"Some nights, I wonder if I'll ever make it out alive. But I know what I want, and I know where I need to go. I just want you to remember that you have a choice in all this. And whatever you choose —"
She's caught by his eye. Silver, not grey; almost blue, in the light.
He gets up from off the ground. He faces her, his expression unreadable. But there is a tenderness in his eye. He's not slouched, he's not seething, he's anything but dead. For the first time in her life, Yukari thinks she's seeing someone in all that they are, and not just the masks they wear.
" —whatever you choose," she repeats, "you're not alone."
He blinks at her. And then he takes a deep breath, nodding. "Thank you."
She finds it in herself to smile. "Are you alright?"
He purses his lips. And he sees her.
The girl has brown, short hair. Milky, almond eyes. She's wearing a pink cardigan and she's got a smile that would win the whole world over. In her brown hair he sees auburn. In her almond eyes, he sees red. And in her smile, he sees a great many things he'd rather forget.
He just nods, his voice thick. "Yeah."
So of course she furrows her brows, "What's wrong?"
"We should head back to class," he says simply, something cold in his voice. "I'll tell you my decision tonight."
Yukari just follows him, staring at the back of his head. She's gotten somewhere. He may have gotten cold and distant again by the end of it. But she's somewhere, somewhere closer to him.
She doesn't know how her shoulders could have ever felt so light, how his own shoulders had gotten so broad in that short span of time they'd talked, or why her heart's pounding so hard against the walls of her chest.
Wait. What'd he say? "T-tonight?"
"Midnight sharp. Best if it's during the Hour, isn't it?"
"W-wait —"
"Come on."
And all Yukari can think of as she stares at the back of his head is just how much worse she's made all this.
He's in the middle of the world and there's a ringing noise in the ear they smashed with a baseball bat. He does not think his eardrum's ruptured, but there's something seeping out the side of his head, where his temple should be, and for a moment he wonders if that sort of thing's supposed to be fatal until he blacks out and awakens with their shoes in his face and his face on the floor.
She's lying across from him. Face in the dirt, red hair covering her eyes.
He sees a foot rear back and then barrel towards him at what looks like the speed of light, but he manages to catch it with his left hand and toss it aside because he's the world. The guy who tried to cause a divot in place of Minato's nose is now falling and when his face plants itself against the tiles, Minato decides to rear himself up off the ground and get real dangerous.
He's surrounded by what looks like dozens of guys, but he's sure that they only look like they're dozens because his bleeding eyes are seeing triple the amount he's supposed to. They're all hulking over Minato, because of course they are, they're his senpai, they're from the basketball team; they're more physically fit than he'll ever be, what with the twigs he has for arms and the noodles he has for legs.
Minato's not afraid, even when they bark at him and at each other and he hears their words echo like they're speaking through megaphones. Whatever. Minato just needs to beat them. Blind them, cripple them, hurt them.
Then he'll be invincible.
One of them (his name is Norimoto, Minato thinks) brings a fist to his guts and Minato trembles and keels over, but that's when Minato sees how open the space between their legs is. When a sudden heel mashes Norimoto's groin into itself, the guy sounds like a little girl as he squeals and pushes Minato aside.
Minato falls into the arms of another guy (Katsuhiro) who then kicks him so hard in the gut that Minato slips and loses his footing and crashes down to the ground face-first again. But he rises up again quick enough and he dashes to Katsuhiro's waist, wrapping his arms around him and pushing with everything he's got. Minato half-expects his arms to snap at the elbows then and there, but he manages enough strength to somehow tackle him into the lockers at his back. He screams then as well, grabbing Minato by the scruff of his uniform and throwing him to the side.
Minato slides along the ground and crashes into a garbage can, but he gets back up before they can pummel him again. When a third man whose name Minato doesn't know tries grabbing at him, something attacks his peripheral vision on both sides before his eyes are pressed like buttons.
She's come to. Took her long enough.
He screams, though she doesn't keep her fingers in too deep, and she wrenches his neck towards her before throwing him into the nearest wall.
She has auburn hair. Auburn, not red. But he conflates the two regardless. She smiles at Minato, and he's too stunned by how the bruises make her look so beautiful to really respond.
Yukari isn't angry.
What she's feeling isn't rage, though it's close to it, she'd figure. She wouldn't know, but it's a sort of...tumultuous irritation that oscillates between being directed at herself for being so timid as to let him step all over her, directed at him for being so needlessly closed-off and brusque, then back at her for even thinking about criticizing him when he's been through so much, then him for making her feel this way, then at Kirijo for letting him in the team in the first place, and so on.
She knows she's got no right to be so annoyed about this, but nobody can blame her. First guy in years she thinks she can relate to, and all she's done is bring up the past and drive a wedge between them both.
As much as she's loathe to admit it, part of her thinks that perhaps the reason she ever wanted to talk to him in the first place was to assuage her own guilt. She knows so much about him, but he knows next to nothing about her. But what's she supposed to do to remedy that? Tell him about her, her dad and her mom? There're lines that she can't cross, not yet. Not like this, not to him, at least not now.
She's so stuck up. Guy's lived with dead parents and a Dark Hour for ten whole years, but all she can think about is how he makes her feel so aggravated. And scared. And stressed. And fine. Angry. Whatever.
But now everything's coming to a head. Hour's come. Kirijo and Ikutsuki have already made their way up to the command room, and Sanada's left early to get some patrol done.
Knock, knock. "Arisato?"
Of all the people they'd have bring the guy up to the command room.
She hears a muffled Wait from behind the door, and after a few moments the barrier between them both just swings open.
He's kind of dishevelled. Fringe is split-ended, clothes are full of folds; still wearing the uniform even though it's been a few hours since class ended. Still looks like a brick wall. His other, closed eye is obscured enough by what's left of the blue in his hair. He has a folded piece of paper in his hand.
"Uh..." Say something. Say something. You can't be scared of him now. "They're waiting for you up on the fourth floor."
He narrows his eyes at her, but then his expression softens, as if he remembered something. He nods. "Alright."
"I'll take you to them."
He pauses. Then says, "You don't have to."
"No. They told me to bring you up to meet them."
He blinks, "Alright."
Again, it's an awkwardly silent walk; even if where they're headed is a mere few floors up. When they get there, Kirijo's already seated herself in a rolling chair, in front of what looks like a supercomputer with stacked bookshelves on either side. Ikutsuki is in an armchair adjacent to the coffee table in the middle of the room. Yukari watches Arisato lightly brush past her, sitting himself in the couch across from Kirijo. Yukari decides to take her seat next to him.
Crosses are cast upon the carpet from the light blaring through the windows, which certainly doesn't help. Yukari still has trouble getting used to the constant gnawing sensation at the back of her head, and how black spots appear every so often in her vision.
In those ten years, how long did it take him before he got used to all this?
"Good evening," says Ikutsuki, "I'm the Chairman of the Board for your school. Shuji Ikutsuki...hard to say, isn't it? That's why I don't like introducing myself. Even I get tongue-tied sometimes..." Ikutsuki quickly realizes that Arisato isn't amused by his attempts at making small talk, so decides to just cut to brass tacks. "The night that you came here, you had to have noticed the signs. The streetlights were out, nothing was working, coffins were lining the streets. We believed that you were capable of entering the Dark Hour, but it's since been brought to our attention...that you've known of it far longer than we'd anticipated."
Yukari tries to scan Arisato's features for something, anything. His sole grey eye is blazing, but that's all she can glean, and she doesn't know if it's the Hour worming its way into her vision or just the light from the windows hitting his sclera.
"How long have you people had your eye on me?" he says bluntly, keeping his eye firm on Kirijo.
She is the one who answers him, before Ikutsuki can. "After you applied for a Gekkoukan scholarship, we dug through your records and from them gleaned the possibility that you were capable of entering the Dark Hour."
"How would you find that out through my records?"
"We have our ways," is all she answers, and she changes the subject quickly enough for the whole topic to change. "We were surprised to find out you've been aware of the Hour for a decade now. And judging from your conversations with Takeba, what's even more surprising is that you aren't aware at all of the Shadows."
Yukari can't bear to look at him, now that her name's been brought up.
"So you know nothing about this Dark Hour yourselves," Arisato says, voice cold. Eye dark, but wide. "But these Shadows...are a danger all on their own?"
Kirijo is silent. Yukari notices something cross her face, something resigned.
Ikutsuki answers back, "Exactly. Normal people don't realize it, since they're all sleeping inside their coffins. But every once in a while, a poor soul ends up fully awake during the Hour, and...is preyed upon."
Kirijo cuts in, "A Shadow feeds on the mind of its prey; the victim becomes a living corpse. They're responsible for most of the incidents on the news, if not all of them."
Arisato's brow raises, "The news...?"
"Iwatodai's suicide rate's risen exponentially since the arrival of the Hour," Ikutsuki responds, and Arisato doesn't even budge an inch, doesn't even blink at being told that. "But those who survive...end up afflicted with Apathy Syndrome."
Yukari's startled by how quickly Arisato lifts his head at the mention of Apathy Syndrome. She's able to see his face and immediately she feels her chest freeze, as he glares at everyone except her.
"So, then —?" he stammers out, his voice strained; though he keeps that same placid expression on his face that he's always kept, his voice is cold and firm. Though he remains seated, he's hunched over and he's clasped his hands, the paper crinkling in his fists. He then unfolds it, and just as quickly slams it down onto the table.
The look in his eye alone is enough to freeze Yukari's spine, but she tears away from it to see what he's presented to everyone —
The drawing's of a nigh-formless sort of creature; large and imposing, swathed in dark. A wide, black mass with what looks like frilled tendrils emerging from its sides, helmed with what vaguely resembles a dragon's skull.
Yukari pales. He must have seen this the night—
"You know what happened to my parents," he grunts out to Ikutsuki and Mitsuru. "This is a Shadow?"
The latter's the first to reply to him, but she does not answer his question verbally; she just gives him a look which he returns in kind. "On paper, we're classified as a school club. But in reality, we're dedicated to defeating the Shadows, and ending the Dark Hour."
"How do you fight them?" Arisato asks, narrowing his eyes and tenting his hands.
"Although rare, there are those who can function during the Dark Hour. Some may even awaken to a power that enables them to fight the Shadows," says Mitsuru.
"And what would you call that kind of power?" For the briefest moment, Yukari sees hints of a smile lining his mouth, and she thinks her greatest fears are being fully realized.
Then the monitor blares. Screens flash red and Kirijo whirls around in her seat, Ikutsuki getting up off his and standing behind her. Yukari's eyes grow wide, she remembers that Akihiko-senpai's out on patrol, this is him calling the dorm back —
"Is that you, Akihiko?" Kirijo grunts out, frantically hitting buttons and adjusting dials, trying to manage frequencies and adapt to the situation as best she can —
"You're not gonna believe this, this thing is huge...!" Sanada garbles out through choppy audio and the sounds of something in the distance breaking ground and Yukari thinks she hears rumbling not too far outside the dorm, "Unfortunately, I don't have time to talk —it's chasing me —I'm almost there...!"
Dear God. "He's bringing that thing here!?"
"A Shadow...of all nights...?" mutters Ikutsuki.
For a moment Yukari thinks she hears him laughing on the other end as Sanada grunts through pants and groans, "It's not an ordinary one! Arm's busted and can't lose it!"
The audio fizzles out, fading into something shrill and inhuman, and all at once Yukari feels worms in her ears, biting at the drums and drilling into her brains, it's a roar that's louder than a jet engine and somehow she hears it right next to her —
"Akihiko?" Kirijo cries out, "Akihiko!?" then whirls around, "Mr. Chairman!"
Ikutsuki nods, "Be careful." He turns to Yukari, "Neither of you are prepared for this —"
The ground trembles. Yukari's nearly brought to her knees. She's heard glass shatter from somewhere, concrete and stone blasting out into the dark. Then another roar, screeching like some cosmic error being birthed into reality, and the centipedes gnaw at her earlobes and hollow out her skull until all that's left is the fear she thought she'd left behind.
She grabs Arisato's hand unconsciously and dashes out the door, not noticing the vacant yet angry expression he's got as she follows Ikutsuki. By the time they all make it back down to the ground floor, Kirijo's tending to Akihiko's lacerated arm, and Yukari realizes she's never seen so much red come out of somebody like this —
"Get ready to be surprised...it'll be here any second," Sanada grins, his voice guttural and strained.
"Your arm's letting out gallons by the minute and all you can do is laugh," grunts Kirijo as another crashing noise makes the world tremble.
You've got to be kidding. Here and now. So suddenly?
Kirijo whips out an Evoker and exclaims, "Mr. Chairman, please head for the command room! Takeba, you and Arisato escape out the back!
What, "B-but, what about you two?"
Voice firm, "We'll stop it here. You led it to us, Akihiko, so I'm afraid you'll have to fight."
Another grin, like this is some game, "Like I had a choice!" he whips his head to Yukari, "Takeba, what're you waiting for!? Go!"
Yukari nods vigorously as the senpai bolt out the door, Ikutsuki dashes up the stairs, and she practically drags Arisato along with her; she doesn't even see his expression, doesn't even care how he's registering all this, because they need to get out and they need to survive and they can't just stay here and wait for the world to end on them —
Once she realizes she's made it all the way to the back door, just past the kitchen and dining area, her hands fidget on the knob and she's frantic and scared and hoping for all of this to end, but she's got to at least get them to safety.
"Come on, come on, come on —"
"Away from the door," Arisato cuts in.
"H-huh!?"
"Now!"
She manages to dodge backward as something crashes into the wooden frame from the other side. Backing into Arisato, she pushes herself and him out of dodge as some black horrid amorphous thing slithers and slops around at her feet, it's no larger than a tire and it lifts what looks like its head up, revealing a blue face with hollow abysses for eyes as it snarls like an animal that shouldn't exist —
Then all of a sudden she sees Arisato grab something at the counter, and before she knows it, dark gunk splashes all over her legs and skirt —when she can see again, she stifles herself from hyperventilating further as she calls out, "D-dear God—" because he's just broken the dorm microwave over a Shadow's head.
Once he grabs her by her shoulders, she comes to. "You okay?"
She blinks and sees something so clear in his grey eye, but before she can respond she hears more guttural screeching noises. Dark shapes with blue faces start barging through what's left of the door and lock their eyeholes squarely on the two of them, she sees Arisato grit his teeth and pant, he's beginning to breathe like she's breathing —
"C-come on!" she grabs Arisato by the arm, his expression's empty and his eye's wide, "We need to get out of here —!"
"Takeba!"
K-Kirijo — "Y-yeah!?"
"The one we're fighting isn't the one Akihiko saw! Keep away from the streets!"
God, please, no.
"Upstairs!" she cries out, and manages to pull him along with her.
He's still keeping his eye on the black masses storming through the back entrance, even as she drags him up the stairs.
He could swear they're talking, but in a language he doesn't want to understand.
He's in the middle of the world and there's a ringing noise in the ear they smashed with a baseball bat—s he's lying across from him, face in the dirt, red hair covering her eyes, through black eyes he sees a foot rear back and then barrel towards him at what looks like the speed of light, but he manages to catch it with his left hand and toss it aside because he's the world—
He's surrounded by what looks like dozens of guys, but he's sure that they only look like they're dozens because his bleeding eyes are seeing triple the amount he's supposed to—Minato's not afraid, even when they bark at him and at each other and he hears their words echo like they're speaking through megaphones, Minato just needs to beat them, then he'll be invincible—
Invincible, invincible, never let me die— Norimoto brings a fist to his guts and Minato trembles and keels over, but Minato mashes Norimoto's groin and the guy sounds like a little girl as he squeal—Katsuhiro who then kicks him so hard in the gut that Minato slips and loses his footing and crashes down to the ground—Minato manages enough strength to somehow tackle him into the lockers at his back and he screams—
Kotone's thumbs are in a man's eyes and she wrenches his neck towards her before throwing him into the nearest wall and she has auburn hair; auburn, not red, but he conflates the two regardless, and she smiles—
Someone from behind grabs her from under her shoulders, and she knocks his nose with the back of her head in response. Red flows out of his nostrils as he backs away and lets her go, and she whirls around and boots his stomach, sending him ten feet away.
Minato gets the feeling of hairs standing at the back of his neck, then he turns to face his next assailant and kicks his knee. Off-balance now, the guy drops the garbage can he'd held up in an attempt to use it against Minato—and when that happens, she grabs it the minute it clatters along the ground.
It's weighty in her arms and still half-filled with garbage that's rotted enough to make mountain goats puke. When she tosses it at them, Minato realizes only after the fact that she's thrown rats and roaches innumerable, and everybody's screaming and trying to get the gunk off of them, one of them's squirming, trying to get something out of his clothes, something's biting his belly button—
And Kotone laughs as she kick the can at them, scrambling to get away as she grabs Minato's hand—her laugh is contagious, Minato realizes, as he lets out something guttural and haughty from the back of his throat, everyone behind him screaming bloody murder.
She and he hold hands the whole time, even after they lose them, and when they get back to what they can call a home they jump into a mattress and consume each other, the blood still flowing out of their faces.
She has auburn hair. Not red. But he conflates the two, regardless.
He's in a bed with her, staring at the ceiling of his room. The ceiling fan is spinning on high, and when he turns to face his window he sees a black sky with a blue moon. Light dives down his window and paints her body, or at least the parts of her body that aren't covered by his bedsheets.
She's clinging on to him, her chest against his arm and her head nuzzling against his neck. The fact that she can sleep so peacefully and hold him so plainly makes him feel colder than he'd ever felt before. Coherent thought escapes him now; his mind's mostly blank static with the occasional horrific thought every now and again.
Feeling her breathe, he can recall easily how they were just moments ago. Both of them tumbling in his bed, he grabbed her and felt her and took all of her in him, his coarse palms against her porcelain skin. He strained her and made her squeal, heard her call out his name; they had been manic and restless and as the night wore on, as she loomed over him and bore her red eyes into his soul, her body became just an amorphous mass of arms and legs — hanging over him like the bars of a steel cage.
Inevitably, she awakens, and when she does she immediately moves herself. She doesn't smile that demure smile he'd always loved to see out of her, and she refuses to let her eyes meet his. She then lifts herself up from the sheets, adjusting herself so she can swing her leg over his waist, puts her head directly on his chest and whispers...
Why remember all this now?