Thank you for reading! Warning for a brief scene of harassment at the end of Mutsuki's section.


I say there is no darkness by ignorance

Twelfth Night


"Hey Mutsuki!"

He glances up as he leaves the practice room. Hours of piano and he still can't get it right. He's going to bomb in the concert. It may be months away, but he knows he's going to bomb.

But Sasaki's there, smiling at him. "Practicing?"

"Trying to." Mutsuki shrugs. "It could have… gone better."

Sasaki frowns. "If I knew anything about piano, I'd help, but I don't. Sorry."

"Not your fault," Mutsuki says. He wrings his sweater. I'm going to make a fool out of myself.

Sasaki falls into step behind him as they leave the building. The sun shines, orange light dipping low in the sky. "I have an idea. Do you know Suzuya?"

Mutsuki nods. "He's in our class." And he killed the cats. Except he didn't.

A cold wind blows. Sasaki's hair flutters around his face. His smile is so easy. Mutsuki wishes he could imitate it. Sasaki rubs his chin. "He's good with piano. I could get him to help you."

Oh. Mutsuki blinks. "Would he—"

"Nah, it wouldn't be a problem." Sasaki smiles, pulling out his phone and texting. "I'll let you know what he says, okay?"

'Thanks." Mutsuki stuffs his hands in his pockets. His heart pounds. Sasaki's so helpful, and he doesn't seem to want anything from Mutsuki. He turns and hurries back to the Chateau, where he finds Shirazu waiting. "Is everything okay?"

"No," says Shirazu. "Saiko hasn't practiced at all, and they're going to ask for a report on our hours next week, and given how many times she's missed class, Urie says she'll get kicked out if she doesn't practice."

"Kicked out?" cries Mutsuki. He likes Saiko. She's sweet and funny, and she likes him.

"Of the class," Shirazu says. "We need to do something." He curls his fist. "Hsiao, Hige, and Aura are MIA, but Urie said he'd join us. I may have threatened him. We need an intervention."

Mutsuki nods. Within minutes, they're barging into Saiko's room. She's snoozing on her bed. Candy wrappers are scattered all over the floor. The desk is covered in nenderoids and manga, not a single textbook. Those are dumped on the floor.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Shirazu snaps, yanking the pillow out from under Saiko's head.

"Hey!" Saiko shrieks. She jumps up, blue hair mussed, blankets rumpled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You're going to get kicked out of class," Urie tells her bluntly, leaning back against the door. He looks bored.

Can you really not care? Mutsuki wonders. But if Urie didn't care, why did he even bring it up?

"What?" Saiko shrieks.

"You haven't studied at all," Mutsuki says, sitting on the bed next to Saiko. The quilt has a Pokemon pattern. "So—"

"I'll do better!" Saiko promises. "I'll—I'll go class tomorrow and I'll—"

Oh boy. Mutsuki wrinkles his nose. The room smells stale. He gets to his feet and slides open the window. Night air flows in.

"I'm trying to look after you!"

"Why do you care?" Saiko shoots back.

"Why did you even sign up for this class if you don't want to put the work into it?" Shirazu demands. "Why did you even go to college if you just want to be a neet?"

Saiko glares at him. "Because I get to make my own decisions living at college?"

"Poor decisions!"

Mutsuki clutches his skull. He turns to Urie, who rolls his eyes.

"At least they're mine!"

"Bullshit!" Shirazu yells.

"Stop trying to control me!"

"I care about you!" Shirazu bellows. "But, fine, Saiko, if you just want to waste away your talent and your days playing video games and sleeping, go for it."

"Little you know," Saiko retorts. "Did it ever occur to you that I don't get to pick my own schedule? That I didn't get to choose where to go to college, or whether to go or not? They offered me a scholarship and my mom didn't care so long as I was out of her hair. My music gets her money. That's all that matters." Saiko gulps. Her lips tremble.

The open window suddenly feels too cold. Mutsuki turns around and slams it shut. He shivers.

"What a bitch," Shirazu says.

Urie's jaw falls open. Mutsuki freezes.

Saiko just blinks, still seated on her bed.

"Do you like music?" Shirazu demands. "Like, what do you want to study, Saiko?"

She frowns and tugs at her pigtails. "I've never really thought about it before."

Shirazu runs his hand through his unruly hair. "Well, I'm asking you now."

Saiko shrugs. "I might as well like it."

"Well, I think you're good at it," Shirazu says.

"How about you?" Saiko asks, peering at him. "Is music what you like?"

Shirazu shifts on the bed. "It's potentially a way to get money. Plus I have a scholarship, so I don't have to pay for studies, and I want to be able to support my sister."

"Is she younger than you?" asks Mutsuki.

"Yeah, and she has a genetic condition," Shirazu says. "She's on a ventilator in the hospital. I have to pay for her treatment, because someday—they might be able to help her."

Shit. Mutsuki gulps.

"What about your parents?" asks Urie.

"Mom left because she 'couldn't deal,'" Shirazu says, making air quotes. "And Dad… couldn't deal either. He's dead. So I have to deal."

Why? And how can Shirazu deal with that? Mutsuki hugs his arms around himself. Urie sits silently.

"What a bitch," Saiko says, with a laugh.

Shirazu snorts. Mutsuki hopes they don't ask him about his family. Shirazu would give up his own dreams and hopes just to keep his sister alive. Mutsuki killed his brother, and he can't even remember doing it. Urie presses his chin against his knees, hiding his mouth. His eyes meet Mutsuki's.

His phone buzzes. Mutsuki pulls out his phone and checks it. Sasaki!

Suzuya wants to help! He said we should all get coffee at a café in an hour—that work for you? I can drive us.

He's helping him. Mutsuki's heart flutters. He sends a text agreeing.

An hour later, Mutsuki meets Sasaki and Suzuya in the parking lot. Suzuya's chomping on a giant chocolate bar. "Yo!"

"Hey," Mutsuki echoes.

"Heard you needed help with the piano," Suzuya chatters, hopping into the backseat. His clothes drape off him, and the red lines on his throat and arm are apparently stitches. "And I needed a latte. So Sasaki is providing both."

Mutsuki can't help but laugh.

"I haven't been to this café," says Sasaki, pulling out of the parking lot.

":re? It's pretty cool. Kinda hipster though," says Juuzou, breaking off a piece of chocolate and handing it to Mutsuki. "They usually have live music but it's more like, grunge."

Mutsuki does like the atmosphere of the place. Woodwork and rabbits pictures and strange masks hanging on the wall give it a quirky air. A boy with unruly red hair and glasses leans across the counter to kiss a girl with auburn hair. A live band does play in the corner, a boy with dark indigo hair and a safety pin for an earring leading a band comprised of another small girl with dark hair, an older man with a weird goatee, and a man with white hair and a scowl. A couple sits at a table, the man—with slicked back blond hair—cackling, and the woman—pink hair done in a very unique style—smiling at she sips her coffee. A small girl sits at the table with them.

"Fueguchi Hinami," says Suzuya, gesturing towards the girl. "She goes to our university."

Sasaki ducks his head. Mutsuki wonders why.

"I'll take your orders," says a girl, approaching them. Fluffy blue hair sticks out from her face. She's pretty.

And the way Sasaki looks at her. It's like he's been stabbed by her presence. Sweat shines on his forehead, and he looks trapped, exposed, panicked.

"A latte," chirps Suzuya. "Extra sugar. You, Mutsuki?"

"Um—just iced coffee," Mutsuki manages. His stomach knots. His heart disintegrates inside his chest.

"Coffee. Hot," whispers Sasaki. "I mean, hot coffee. Not—" His face flushes.

Suzuya cackles. The girl doesn't so much as blush. She nods and turns away.

Why am I never enough? Mutsuki wants to cry. But instead Suzuya is chattering around how last time he saw Yasuhisa Kurona here and was afraid she'd shank him, and about how Kurona seems to think she's the only person who ever lost someone while his foster father's in a permanent vegetative state after being hurt in that explosion years ago. The same one that took Urie's father.

Mutsuki can't imagine having a father to mourn, but the idea entrances him. He puts his hand on Suzuya's shoulder. "Do you visit him often?"

Suzuya shakes his head. "It's too hard." He rolls his eyes. "Oh look, coffee's here!"

Sasaki twitches when the girl hands out their coffees. Too hard? Mutsuki doesn't understand. He misses his family even when the doctors say he did it.

Whatever. He'll focus on what he has. He has to do this. Mutsuki turns to Suzuya. "So what's your advice?" It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

He keeps it together until Sasaki drops them off and Suzuya heads to his dorm on the other side of campus. Mutsuki muffles a sob as he heads back to the Chateau, fists clenched at his sides. Why?

"Evening," says a security guard. Mutsuki stiffens, ducking his head and hurrying down the winding path towards the Chateau. He can see the lights.

"Do I need to look for any dead cats?" calls the guard.

Mutsuki freezes. He turns. Clouds bloat the night sky. Damp air seeps through his sweater, chilling his spine. "What?"

"I know it was you," says the guard. "Well, mostly it was me. But it was also you."

"You're a fucking liar!" He's better. He's better now. They said so. It's why they let him go. That's why they let him live here. They said he could have a future. They said—

"No," croons the guard. "I gave you a knife to do it. And a jar." He laughs. "You don't even remember, do you? You remember killing them, but not the details. What a sick, sick child you are."

Mutsuki recoils. "Go to hell!"

"Are you troubling the pretty lady, Tokage?" calls another security guard, a tall, scrawny man with a ghastly smile.

"I'm not a girl!" Mutsuki shoots back. He wants to die. This man's comment makes him feel stripped, exposed. Tears burn in his eyes.

Grotesque. A freak. A liar. No—they're lying, he's lying, they're both lying.

"My bad." The guard holds up his hands. "You're prettier than half the girls I've ever met, then."

Mutsuki's skin prickles. He takes a step back. Where—help—someone—

"Why is he so worried?" asks the second guard. "Did you catch him doing something wrong? Surely for someone this pretty, you can let him go—"

"No, nothing wrong, Saeki," says Tokage. He grins at Mutsuki. The coffee Mutsuki drank surges up his throat. He thinks of Suzuya and—

"Mutsuki!"

He whirls around. Shirazu and Urie both jog towards him. "We're heading back from practice!" Shirazu says. He skids to a stop with a frown.

"Is there a problem?" asks Urie. He steps in front of Mutsuki.

"Not at all. Have a pleasant night, Mutsuki." Saeki waves at them, backing up.

Mutsuki's heart pounds. His face burns.

"What a fucking creep," says Shirazu.

"I hate guys like that," says Urie.

Mutsuki ducks his head. At least they didn't hear the comment about him looking like a girl.

When will I be who I want to be?


"You came!" Akira wraps her arms around Takizawa in a quick hug, and then she hugs Amon. She invited them both over for dinner to catch up (dinner being curry that she picked up from a nearby place) but Takizawa had been hemming and hawing.

"Threatened him," Amon quips. Maris Stella hisses at the men from her spot on the couch, the spot she's zealously guarding. "Her disposition hasn't improved."

"Nah." Akira shakes her head. "I have beer in the fridge. But we're all, like, going to have to go slow."

"Please tell me you aren't as much of a lightweight," jokes Amon.

Akira snorts. "I'm still pretty bad. I'm tiny." She focuses on Takizawa, sitting on the other edge of her couch and making funny faces at Maris Stella. "At least I wasn't the one who sent a drunk email to their advisor."

Takizawa cringes. "Don't remind me of that."

Akira snickers. She dishes out the curry into bowls. "Eat up. It's better than the instant ramen I'm sure you live on." She hands everyone a beer.

"However did you guess?" Takizawa asks sarcastically.

Akira rolls her eyes and clicks her chopsticks. "You haven't changed as much as you think you have."

Takizawa snorts. He takes a bite of the curry. "Mm. Good."

"How was your DMA, Amon?" Akira asks. "I need to know. For science."

"For you, you mean?" He rolls his eyes too, arranging his napkin on his lap. He details his program to her. "By the way, your recommendations are all set to go. I'll send them to you to proofread, and you can let me know."

"Is that proper protocol?" Akira asks, wrinkling her nose. The curry's sweet, spicy scent saturated her mouth. Curry was her father's favorite. He always took her out for it as a reward for doing well in school, or after a big recital.

"It's standard protocol," Takizawa puts in.

"You're a first year masters student; how would you know?"

Takizawa raises his eyebrows. "I know everything."

Akira crumples her napkin and tosses it at him. Amon groans.

"Your second year recital is next week, right?" Amon asks.

"Yeah," Akira says. She swallows. "I'm a little nervous."

Takizawa blinks, clearly surprised she admitted to that.

"We'll both be there," Amon assures her, taking a swig of beer. "Promise."

She swallows the liquid herself. She's not much a fan. She prefers sweet drinks. But. It's nostalgic.

"Are you ever going to change your Goth look?" Akira asks Takizawa.

"Oh fuck," Takizawa says. "Is this an intervention? Was that why I was invited here?"

"You were invited because you're a friend, dumbass. Even if you vanished for four years." And still won't tell her a thing about it. She's frustrated. How can I help you? Even if he's back now. Even if he finished school. He doesn't seem all right. But if he doesn't want help, she can't waste her energy trying.

Takizawa gulps his beer. "So. Let's discuss our students. Did you notice Furuta aggressively flirting with Kamishiro Rize in the cafeteria today? It was almost embarrassing."

"Oh dear," says Amon. "That boy is just. Trouble."

"He tripped and dropped his tray onto her. It's honestly like he's six years old," Takizawa says.

"I hope she slapped him," Akira says. That'd be more effective than telling him off.

"I think she laughed at him."

Never mind. "Even better." Akira decides not to finish her beer. She's pleasantly tipsy halfway through and doesn't want to get any more drunk than that.

"Thanks for the food, Mado," Takizawa says quickly as soon as he finishes. "It was good to catch up with you guys."

"You're leaving already? You can't even offer to clean up?" Akira demands.

"I have a ton of grading to catch up on," Takizawa insists. He smiles at her. "Seriously. Thank you, Akira." He glances at Amon, offering him a small smile before leaving.

"Why is he like that?" grumbles Akira, slamming the dishes into the sink.

"I don't think it's been easy for him," Amon says, reaching for the sponge.

"Is he depressed?"

"I'm not a doctor."

Akira turns on the water. Warm. She sighs. "It hasn't been easy for any of us. First I lost my dad, then Takizawa, and then you, all in the span of—less than a year."

"He'd be proud of you," Amon says. "Working so hard for your master's. Plus you're going to excel at your recital next week. If you want to practice, I'll give you pointers." He reaches past Akira to scrub another bowl.

Akira swallows. "That sounds great."

I miss him. I still miss him. And then you were gone and everyone and everything from my old life had vanished. She bows her head.

Amon puts his hand on her shoulder.

"He'd be proud of you too," she whispers.

Amon shifts. His hand slides away.

Not again. Akira turns towards him. She looks up into his eyes. "This time, don't dodge." She keeps her eyes open this time, taking in his look of surprise as she rises on tiptoe. He lowers his mouth, lips breaking through hers. Her father would be happy about this. Akira's sure of it. She slides her hands down Amon's neck. His hand fumbles to turn the sink off. She doesn't want to come up for air because if she does, it might all fade away. Please don't go.

They make their way to the couch. Akira puts his hands on her chest. Amon's face reddens, but his hands caress her. He pulls back, eyes searching hers.

"One second," Akira manages. He's not going to leave. Relief shudders through her. She darts into her room to grab a condom. Amon raises his eyebrows. "Don't judge."

"I'm not."

"I've had them for—a while." Akira kneels on the couch. "I haven't used them. Ever. I would say I'm the world's oldest virgin but I'm pretty sure you have me beat."

Amon's face colors. "Nuns exist, Akira, but Am I that obvious?"

She shrugs. "Your personality is." They should probably move to the bedroom. But Amon cups her face again, and she wraps her arms around him. He kisses her neck, and she pulls her blue tank top off her head, unbuttons her skinny jeans. "Here?"

"Is this okay?" Amon pauses over her, sweat already on his forehead.

"Um." Akira shrugs. "Yeah." It doesn't matter where it is. She just wants to be with him. She wants him to shield her from the emptiness gnawing at her. He squeezes his eyes shut before he begins, and Akira already knows she's going to tease him later for it. But he holds onto her, and she holds onto him.

When she wakes up the next morning, it's to her phone ringing. As soon as she sits up, Akira realizes it isn't even morning. It's five, and it's still dark outside. Amon blinks beside her.

"Akira?" asks Takizawa.

"What happened?" she demands.

"Amon won't answer his phone."

"He's here," Akira says, her face burning. Amon sits up sleepily.

"I figured," Takizawa says dryly. "Put it on speaker. Something bad happened. With Yasuhisa Kurona."