Author's Note: A bit of a filler chapter, and formatted a bit weirdly in that while the present-parts occur in chronological order, the flashbacks go progressively further back in time.

"So what now?" Sousuke asks, hours after charred ruins are all that remain of where they once lived (not home, it was never a home—he's learned by now that a home is a person, not a place). Sayuri leans against his side and he automatically wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"Well," she murmurs, a wistful note in her voice. "You always wanted to see the world, right? I figure we should probably get started on that—especially since we have twenty years of catching up to do."

"Three-hundred and twenty districts. Where do you want to start?" Sousuke asks. To be honest, he doesn't really care about exploring the various districts of the afterlife. The last time he wished his world was bigger, he'd ended up nearly losing the only person who made his world worth living in. What he does care about is that this is the first time in years he's seen her this excited about something. The first time in years that he feels like he really, truly has his sister back again.

"Doesn't matter. As long as it's away from here," Sayuri replies. Sousuke turns to look at her thoughtfully.

"You're not nervous? After all, neither of us knows what's out there," he points out. At that, she tilts her head up towards the sky.

"What's there to be afraid about? Monsters?" Sayuri lets out a slightly bitter laugh. "Please. If they have any sense, they'll be afraid of us."


"What is wrong with you?" The man shrieks, hastily backing away towards the fence. Beginner's mistake, Sousuke thinks dispassionately. Given that he was a grown man, Sousuke would've thought he'd know better than to let himself get cornered like that.

"You're sick! All of you!" Curiously enough, the man doesn't seem to be yelling at him and Sayuri. No, he keeps turning towards the crowd, while desperately trying to keep an eye on Sousuke and his sister at the same time. Sousuke doesn't know why he bothers—it's obviously a futile endeavor. In fact, if Haruguchi hadn't specifically requested that they draw this fight out a little longer, the man would be dead already.

"They're children, for god's sake!" He yells, spittle flying from his mouth. He still isn't fighting back. While he isn't the first to show hesitation in the ring, he is the first to outright refuse to fight them, and Sousuke wonders why. Doesn't he understand the rules of the game?

"Oh god…" The man finally turns to face them fully. His eyes are wide with fear, sweat trickling down his face, and Sousuke doesn't need his sister's skill at analyzing reiatsu to know that the man is terrified. Despite that, his words are oddly earnest. "Please, no, you don't have to do this. It's going to be okay, I…I have friends and they're looking for me right now, just put down the knife. Put down the knife and I swear, when they get here I'll get you both out of this hellhole, to somewhere safe, away from these bastards and—"

Out of the corner of his eye, Sousuke can see Haruguchi motioning at him impatiently, a signal that he's tired of the fight and wants them to get on with it in an appropriately bloody manner. He's about to move but before he can, there's a flash of movement by his right. The next moment, there's a sickening snap echoing through the air and the man's eyes glaze over, his neck now at a grotesquely unnatural angle.

Sousuke watches as Sayuri lowers the corpse carefully to the ground, her movements almost gentle.

"Haruguchi-sama won't be happy," he says as he walks up to her. "You ended it too quickly. He wanted to have fun with this one."

"I know," she says quietly, gazing down at the cooling body in her arms. He can see her scanning every inch of the man's face. Memorizing it.

"You won't get dinner again," Sousuke warns. He doesn't understand why she insists on doing stuff like this when she knows she'll get punished for it.

"I don't care. The guy's dead, isn't he? Then I don't see what Haruguchi-sama has to complain about," she says, her voice cooling a fraction. "He told me to kill him, and I did as he asked. How I choose to do so is my business." Sousuke is quiet for a moment.

"If you had a problem with this one, I would've done it," he says. He means it too. While he doesn't exactly like getting his hands dirty, he also doesn't mind it the way his sister does. She's better now than she was in the beginning, but despite what Sayuri herself thinks, she's never managed to be entirely indifferent. The hours she pours into her drawings—it's almost eerie how realistic they are, her opponents' last emotions immortalized in thick, black charcoal strokes against a white paper background—are proof enough of that.

From the beginning, she's always been just a little too kind, a touch too empathetic for this world of theirs and it shows in the way a part of her dies each time she takes another life. Her compassion used to irritate him (because it's an aspect of his sister that he doesn't understand, can't understand) but it doesn't anymore; he's accepted that it's just a part of who she is.

Besides, he can be ruthless for her.


Out of all the questions he's asked, there's only one that Sayuri has refused to answer, and that is how do you know so much?

In the beginning, he hadn't thought it strange. Sayuri has always been that way, after all; more like an adult than a child, and adults knew all kinds of stuff so why wouldn't she? But the thing is, no matter how she behaves Sayuri isn't an adult and by now Sousuke knows that there are things people don't learn without being taught first. And he's been with her every step of the way—he knows that their mother never taught her about how birds and how they can fly because their wings are hollow, about fish and how they use gills to breathe, about why the leaves change color and how babies are made and how white light is actually made up of seven colors, which is why rainbows form (he would have dismissed it as Sayuri making stuff up, but her explanations make sense and so far, everything he's observed seems to confirm her words).

At least she doesn't pretend that her knowledge is normal, or try to lie to him (although, Sousuke thinks grumpily, answering "I won't lie to you" and then refusing to speak any further on the subject isn't much better). After the first three times he asks doesn't get any results, Sousuke decides to change tactics. If she won't tell him, he'll just have to find out himself. He already has years' worth of clues—the way she sometimes mutters in strange, nonsensical, foreign syllables, the wistful, almost nostalgic expression that crosses her face when she comes across seemingly random objects, the way their own mother used to regard Sayuri's maturity with unease.

Still, it isn't until two years after leaving the ring that he finally comes across a possible explanation. He'd been looking through a bookstore (a rare sight this far out in the Rukongai) for a present to give Sayuri when he'd found an old book full of theories of what happened to a soul after they died in the afterlife.

Three days later, on their twenty-second birthday he wakes up to find what looks like a handmade book by his bed.

"They're illustrations. To your favorite stories," Sayuri explains, a touch of pride in her voice as he flips to a page with the twin gods Artemis and Apollo hunting side by side. Sun and moon, forever chasing each other, each lighting up the sky in their own way. It's a while before he can tear his eyes away.

"I got you something too," Sousuke says, reaching underneath his pillow and pulling out a handmade book of his own. "You're always telling me stories, so I figured I'd write you one myself. Go ahead—read it."

It's short, just a few pages long, and it doesn't take her long to skim through it. He keeps his eyes locked on her face the entire time, drinking in her expressions, the way her eyes widen slightly in shock as she reads the story of an unnamed girl, killed before her time only to be reincarnated into a world twice as cruel. By the time she finishes, her shoulders are stiff and she refuses to meet his eyes.

An odd smile tugs at his lips as he stands up and walks behind her. Leaning down, he rests one hand on her shoulder, his grip just a shade too tight.

"Don't worry," he whispers into her ear. "I won't ask. It doesn't matter who you used to be anyway—you're my sister now."

He thinks back to the way she used to look at him, like she was seeing the ghost of someone else in his place. He still doesn't know who he reminds her of, but he finds that the thought bothers him less than it used to. After all, he's here, they aren't, and memories are fragile, memories of people even more so—unlike facts or figures, the vast majority of people are transient. Sooner or later he'll erase them from Sayuri's mind, and he's in no rush. He has eternity, after all.


"Sousuke, don't even think about it," Sayuri orders without looking up. Sousuke pouts, straightening up from his crouch.

"You're no fun," he complains, sulking. "And it's totally unfair that you can predict what a person's gonna do without even looking at it." He pauses and Sayuri stiffens warily, no doubt sensing his shift in intent through his reiatsu. "Of course, just 'cuz you can sense it coming, doesn't mean you can dodge it."

"Wait Sousuke, don't you dare—" Sayuri yelps, the rest of her words cut off as Sousuke tackles her and they go down in a pile of flailing limbs.

"You—little—brat," she huffs, elbowing him half-heartedly in the ribs. He lets out a breathless laugh, even as he manages to pin her down.

"I win!" He crows as he straddles her stomach, bouncing up and down.

"I regret the day you learned to walk," Sayuri mutters irritably, but doesn't try to shove him off. He offers her a sunny smile, shifting so that he's lying down next to her.

"You don't mind. Admit it, you were just as bored as I was," Sousuke says cheekily, before rolling over so that he's staring at the ceiling. "Sucks that we don't have a match 'til next week, huh? At least that'd give us something to do, for a short while at least. Who knows, we might even get someone who's a bit of a challenge, although given how disappointing our last few fights were…"

"Don't say that. It's disrespectful," Sayuri scolds, although he can tell it's more out of habit than anything else.

"What's the big deal? What, you want me to lie and say that each of our opponents are special? You saw how those girls from last time were—too busy sniveling and crying to even pick up a weapon. They're all the same," Sousuke snorts. "Weak. If they couldn't even defend their lives, then they deserved to die."

"Mmm. And what happens if one day, we come across someone who's stronger? And I lose? What then?" Sayuri asks shrewdly. "Are you saying that I'd deserve to die?"

"That's different," he says, looking away. "Besides, it's not gonna happen."

"No?" She asks, wry amusement flickering across her face. "Sousuke, you can't guarantee that."

"Yeah I can," he insists stubbornly. "I'll just be like that one guy in the stories…what's his name again? Hercules? The one who fought off death itself when it came for that king? Well, if death ever comes for either of us I'll just punch it in the face. That'll show him."

Sayuri laughs softly and turns to face him. "I'm not sure that's how it works, hero."

He shrugs. "Why not? It's just another opponent, after all."


The first time Sousuke sees a shinigami, he doesn't manage to get more than a second's glimpse before Sayuri's suddenly there and dragging him away. She doesn't stop until she deems that they've gone a safe distance—which, in Sayuri's terms, means that they've crossed half the district—after which Sousuke yanks his hand out of hers with an annoyed grunt.

"What'd you do that for?" He complains, glaring at her.

"Making sure you didn't do anything stupid like go up to them and ask to see their sword," Sayuri says dryly. At her words, Sousuke flushes.

"I wouldn't do that," he says sullenly. At the very least, he would have phrased it in a less ambiguous way without the sexual implications. Sayuri sighs and her face softens a little.

"Hey," she murmurs. "I'm sorry, okay? I just didn't want you near them."

"Why not? What, you scared of them too?" Sousuke scoffs.

"Yes," Sayuri admits, which surprises him. He can't remember the last time he's seen her scared, really scared, of something. "I don't know enough about their skills to guarantee who'd win in a fight between us. I'd be lying if I said that didn't make me feel uncomfortable."

"That's why you don't like them? They make you nervous?" Sousuke asks, observing her closely. Sayuri pauses for a moment.

"I don't like anyone I consider a potential threat. I acknowledge that it's highly unlikely a shinigami would publically attack two random kids out of the blue, but it bothers me that they could, if they wanted to, and no one would stop them. The fact that the system is set up so that they protect us from things like hollows, and yet no system is set up to protect us from them." Sousuke watches her for another moment before reaching out to squeeze her hand.

"If it bothers you that much, I won't go near them again," he offers, carefully hiding his disappointment. As he watches relief flash across her features, he decides that it's worth it.


To his credit, Sousuke does try to stay away whenever he senses a shinigami. Key word being try. But curiosity is a strong thing and before long, he finds himself actively seeking out any unusually strong reiatsu presences nearby. By the third time Sayuri catches him spying on a shinigami from a rooftop, she sighs and leaves him to it.

The problem is, he's only satisfied with watching at a distance for so long. Ironically, it's partly Sayuri's fault—he can't get her words from the first time he saw a shinigami out of his head (I don't know enough about their skills to guarantee who'd win in a fight between us) and it irritates him like an itch he can't scratch. He has no idea how he'd fare against a shinigami (with their beautiful, deadly blades flashing like quicksilver, slicing through flesh and bone as easily as paper) and he hates it. It isn't long before he starts choosing someone to test himself against.

He doesn't tell Sayuri.

It's better this way, he rationalizes as he watches his target enter a bar. You know she worries too much and if she doesn't know, she won't become stressed and better yet, she won't try to stop you.

After about half an hour, he watches two more shinigami join the first one and has to bite his lip to swallow his disappointment. Still, Sousuke continues watching and about an hour later his patience pays off when one of the shinigami separates from the other two, arm around one of the prostitutes that frequent the bars. Anticipation rising within him, he heads off after the lone shinigami—he isn't too concerned about the girl; if she's smart, she'll know to run and if she isn't, he'll just kill her too.

He never even sees the attack coming.

With a grunt of surprise, he falls to the ground, arms bound to his side by glowing ropes of energy. A sandaled foot kicks him harshly in the ribs and he has to clench his jaws together to stop himself from crying out in pain.

"Sorry to interrupt your date, but this kid's been following us for the past hour and I figured it'd be rude to continue to ignore him," one of the shinigami—the one Sousuke was originally following—says lazily, prodding Sousuke's cheek with his toe. He leans down and studies Sousuke thoughtfully; it's the same expression Sayuri wears right before she's about to kill someone and Sousuke doubles his efforts to escape his bonds. He doesn't bother trying to shout for help; there's only one person who would help him right now and he doesn't want her to come. Doesn't want Sayuri to see him like this—helpless and pathetic and about to be killed due to his own reckless arrogance. "You must be a special brand of stupid to follow a death god. Hoping to rob my friend here, perhaps?"

"Oh come on Fukuyama, let him go already. You're really gonna waste your time with a dumb brat?" His companion complains. Despite his tone though, Sousuke can detect a hint of nervousness in his posture. "There's a bar nearby that I heard was good."

"Just a minute, Nogi." Fukuyama looks up and glances at the man standing next to the prostitute. "Oi Matsuda, get over here." When he doesn't move, Fukuyama scoffs impatiently. "This kid was planning on robbing you, you really gonna let that go? Come on, don't you want to teach him a lesson? We can't have brats running around without proper manners, after all."

Matsuda hesitates for a moment and then shakes his head, taking a step back. "Nah, you seem to have things handled. I think I'm gonna head back, think I drank too much."

"Suit yourself," Fukuyama murmurs as he traces Sousuke's features with his knife. Despite himself, Sousuke squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face away, willing himself not to cry. It was one of the first lessons Sayuri had taught him in the ring (it's okay to cry—it means that you're human, after all. Just not where they can see. No matter what, never let them know that they hurt you) and he's failed her once already tonight; the least he can do is try not to fail her again.

"You know, you're not bad looking for a Rukongai brat," Fukuyama hums and there's something different about his voice now, something dark and almost hungry and—"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this."

"If you're looking to teach him some manners, I'm afraid it's a lost cause," a familiar voice says casually, causing Sousuke's eyes to shoot open. "I've been trying for years, with no success." Sayuri shrugs nonchalantly as she steps out from the shadows. Her reiatsu is muted, no more noticeable than the average civilian's, and Sousuke's not surprised that the shinigami didn't sense her.

"Forgive my brother." Her gaze flickers to him and their eyes only meet for a fraction of a second, but it's enough. "He's always been too curious for his own good and shinigami seem to be his latest object of interest."

"And you, my dear?" Fukuyama asks, rising to his feet. There's a gleam in his eyes that Sousuke doesn't like. "Do you share his interest?"

"I suppose," Sayuri says. She tilts her head slightly to the side, the action exposing her neck the barest bit. "I've heard that a shinigami's power is concentrated in his sword. Is that true?"

"I could give you a demonstration, if you want," Fukuyama says softly. The sound of a sword being withdrawn from its sheath makes Sousuke flinch—he knows it's part of the plan, that it's a game they've played a hundred times against a hundred opponents, for one of them to act as the distraction while the other one attacks from the shadows, but he's never been comfortable with Sayuri playing the role of the diversion.

Part of it's because it's undoubtedly the riskier of the two parts. Part of it's because she always seems to get hurt when she does it.

Mostly, it's because he doesn't think she cares.

"Fukuyama," Nogi begins uneasily.

"Shut up and watch over the other brat," Fukuyama snaps without turning around, his attention now wholly focused on Sayuri. He has her backed up against a wall now, the side of his blade pressing into the skin of her neck. "Would you like that, sweetheart? I could slice you in half with this sword, you know," he says, tone almost conversational. "Lop your cute little head right off. Show you how powerful a real shinigami is."

"How very impressive," Sayuri replies, her tone implying the exact opposite. If Sousuke didn't know any better, he'd say she was almost bored. "There's just one thing that has me a little confused though. You claim to be a death god but all the stories say that shinigami are dangerous, something to be feared, and…" Her voice trails off as she gives Fukuyama a quick once-over. "I confess, I'm just not seeing it." Fukuyama blinks, and Sousuke can tell that he's taken aback but trying not to show it.

"What are you talking about?" He asks. Sayuri smiles blandly.

"See, I'm trying to understand why such a strong, powerful shinigami—the stuff of legends, if rumor is to be believed—would try so hard to intimidate mere children. You didn't even attack my brother head on, you tied him up first. Hardly the actions of an honorable warrior, wouldn't you agree? Now, when I saw you in this alley, I thought that I'd be meeting a fighter, but…" She shakes her head. "If all shinigami are like this, I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed."

"I hardly think you're in a position to insult me right now," Fukuyama says, starting to look irritated. "You're a chatty one, aren't you? We'll see if you're so confident after I rip your tongue—"

"Or maybe you're just an exception?" Sayuri wonders, completely ignoring the way the cut on her throat is now oozing blood. She refocuses on Fukuyama, eyes widening in faux realization. "That's it, isn't it? You're not a real shinigami." She pauses for a moment. "Is that why your sword feels empty?" That, at least, seems to strike a nerve because Sousuke can see Fukuyama's shoulders stiffen as his reiatsu spikes with rage.

"Shut up," he growls, leaning in closer. "Shut up, shut up, shut up—"

"What? The truth too much for you to handle?" Sayuri laughs, a bit breathily now that the pressure against her throat starts cutting into her airflow. Sousuke clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath in an attempt to focus his reiatsu enough to snap the bonds. "How about this, then?" She shifts and Sousuke can't tell what she's doing from his angle, but it causes Fukuyama's reiatsu to go dangerously still. "I'm curious—have your, ah, preferences always leaned towards the younger end of the spectrum? Or did they only shift that way after you figured out that no one would ever want you? What is it about children that turns you on, exactly?" Sayuri's voice drops to barely above a whisper. "Their vulnerability? Or simply the fact that they aren't able to say no?"

"Stop," Fukuyama grits out and for the first time, he takes a step back. "Stop it."

"What's wrong?" Sayuri coos, her tone almost predatory. "Don't you like to be touched this way? I don't understand; it's what you've wanted from the moment you laid eyes on me, right?"

"You don't…you don't know what you're talking about," he stammers. "You…you don't know when to shut up, do you? Too stupid to even know when you should be scared—"

"Scared? Of what? You?" Sayuri laughs disbelievingly and leans back, voice laced with scorn. "Of a man so very desperate to affirm his own masculinity and yet so weak, so pathetic that he has to resort to preying on children half his size to do so? Because that's the only people you can win against, right? Untrained, unarmed children." A mockery of a smile curves her lips. "I must applaud you, Fukuyama-san. Had I been in your place, I would have committed seppuku years ago, if only to spare my family the shame."

"I'll kill you," he hisses out suddenly, humiliation and shame abruptly replaced by rage. "You fucking bitch, I—"

"So do it," Sayuri taunts. "Kill me. Being a coward only capable of targeting those defenseless is your area of expertise, is it not?"

At that moment, the bonds finally weaken enough for Sousuke to break them with a burst of reiatsu and he tackles Nogi to the ground before the other shinigami has time to even blink in surprise.

"Wha—" Fukuyama begins, startled, just as Sousuke finishes crushing Nogi's trachea. The moment of distraction costs him because the instant he turns to look, Sayuri grips the blade with one hand and pushes it away. She then ducks under it to elbow Fukuyama hard in the stomach and proceeds to slam her fist into the underside of his chin, sending his head flying back. He's only disoriented for a moment but before he can do anything but raise his sword, Sousuke yanks Nogi's zanpakuto out of its sheath and rams it into Fukuyama's back, through his heart.

For a moment, he and Sayuri just stare at the two dead bodies in front of them. Then—

"Took you long enough," Sayuri comments, her voice deceptively casual as she kneels down and starts rooting through Fukuyama's pockets.

"I'm sorry. I'll be quicker next time, I promise." He hesitates for a second. "You alright?"

"I'll live," she says curtly, humming in satisfaction upon finding a decent-sized bag of kan in Fukuyama's clothes. "You start on the other one."

"You…you're hurt," he says softly, staring at the cut on her left palm, the jagged red slash on her neck. "Here, let me—" She yanks her hand out of his reach and he steps dead in his tracks, a feeling of dread rising in his stomach.

"Sayuri?" He asks uncertainly.

"I'll take care of it. You've done enough," she says coldly. He flinches.

"You're angry," he whispers, voice cracking. "No, of course you're angry, I never should have gone after them and I…I'm so sorry. I…I don't know what I was thinking, I should've listened to you and—"

With a tired sigh, Sayuri turns to look at him. "Yes, you should've but that's not why I'm upset. You've never been able to resist a challenge—it's not in your nature. I knew it was only a matter of time before you sought them out." Sousuke blinks in confusion.

"Then why—?"

"Because you didn't tell me," Sayuri snaps. "No, instead you waited until I was asleep and then went after them by yourself like some kind of—" She cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. "We're a team, Sousuke. We look out for each other, and I can't have your back if you don't even tell me what you're up to. What you did tonight, it shows me that you don't trust me."

"That's not true!" He blurts out, stricken. "And I'm—"

"Don't." She says, cutting him off. "I don't need your apology. Just don't do it again."

"I won't. Pinky promise," he says earnestly, holding up his right pinky. "It'll be rule number three. Never hide things from each other. Right behind 'no leaving' and 'no lying.'" Sayuri's expression softens.

"I like that rule," she says quietly as she links her finger with his. Sousuke stays silent for a moment before he adds, "You…you shouldn't have put yourself at risk like that. I mean, for all you knew I wouldn't be able to break the bonds."

"Don't be ridiculous. I couldn't just leave you, could I?" She says sharply. "Besides, I knew you'd break through the spell eventually. For all that Fukuyama was a trained shinigami, he only had about three-quarters of the reiatsu you do and—"

"A battle between souls is a battle between spiritual pressures. I know," Sousuke finishes. "Still, he could have killed you." And that…that terrifies him more than anything else. That Sayuri could be dead right now due to his weakness.

"Oh, I rather doubt that. People like Fukuyama, they're only able to kill those afraid of them. Without that fear, they're nothing," Sayuri says dismissively before glancing at him. "So, you finally got your wish. You faced off against a real shinigami. Did it meet your expectations?" When he doesn't answer, she adds casually, "Well if you're still interested, we do have two swords at our disposal. I'm sure their previous owners wouldn't mind you tak—"

"No," he answers without hesitation. "I don't want them. Either of them." Sayuri glances at him in surprise.

"Are you sure? It'd be a good weapon—" Sousuke scoffs.

"Nogi was a weak-willed, spineless follower with no mind of his own; why would I want his sword?" Sousuke asks disdainfully. "As for Fukuyama…" He glances back towards where the zanpakuto is lying next to its fallen owner, its edge still glistening with red, and his expression hardens. "His sword was used to threaten you. To hurt you. I don't care how powerful it is, I'd sooner shatter it into pieces than use it."


"Sa-Sayuri, I can't…" Gasping, he releases his sister's hand and doubles over in a futile attempt to catch his breath. Pain radiates out from his ribs and he falls to his knees, unable to support himself. Dimly, he can hear Sayuri urging him to get up, to run, telling him that they need to hurry if they don't want to get caught, but all he can focus on is the throbbing in his chest.

"It…it hurts," he sobs between heaving breaths. "It hurts."

"I know, hero, I know," Sayuri says, her voice pained. She brushes his hair out of his eyes and he leans into her touch with a sigh. "But you need to get up. We just have to run for a little longer, okay? Just far enough that they won't catch us. Can you do that for me?"

He nods and manages to stagger to his feet and take one wobbly step forward before collapsing again. This time, he can hear shouts and footsteps and dogs barking in the distance and he doesn't need Sayuri's skill in sensing reiatsu to know that they're close. He also knows that he's not going anywhere.

Sayuri seems to have come to the same conclusion as him because she glances at him, indecisiveness flashing through her eyes. In a sudden fit of panic, he reaches out to grasp her, clutching her hands in a death grip.

"Don't leave me," he begs, because he knows that if she left him, she could make it. She may be his age but she's smart and she knows things and she's good enough at sensing people that Sousuke doubts anyone, even Matsushita, could ever find her if she didn't want them to. "Please don't go. I don't wanna be alone."

She doesn't answer, just looks up at the sky and he watches as the last of her bravado evaporates from her face, leaving only a terrible longing behind. For one terrifying moment he thinks she's going to continue running (that she's going to disappear from his grasp, and vanish from his life forever) but then she smiles, a twisted curve of her lips that doesn't seem to fit quite right on her face.

"What do you mean you want to go back?" She asks suddenly, raising her voice. "No, come on, don't be stupid, we have to keep moving forward!" Sousuke blinks in confusion.

"Sayuri, what are you—"

"What do you mean it was a stupid idea in the first place? How can you say that?" She continues loudly, and no, that wasn't right because while Sayuri had come up with the plan to escape in the first place, Sousuke had been just as enthusiastic about it. After all, his injuries were the whole reason behind why they'd decided to move the plan up—that, and the fact that he had a match scheduled for the next day in which he'd be expected to fight while recovering from two broken ribs.

"No, don't go! You can't leave me!" She pleads and the echo of his own words stuns him silent even as Matsushita's guards finally catch up with them. The last thing he sees before he's knocked out is the resigned look in Sayuri's eyes just before she throws herself at the nearest guard like a crazed animal, kicking and biting and screaming, screaming, screaming.


He doesn't fully understand Sayuri's actions until he wakes up back in their cell and Sayuri's not there. For the next week he's given only one meal a day instead of two and his reading privileges taken away, but for the most part he's treated like normal (maybe even better than normal, since he's given some time for his ribs to recover).

It takes two weeks before Sayuri's returned to him.

When she comes back, it takes him a moment to recognize her and he has to swallow back bile when he realizes that the skeletal figure in front of him—with the stringy, oily hair, sickly pale skin, and hollow cheeks, half her fingernails torn off—is his sister. Worst of all though are her eyes.

Sayuri's eyes have always been the most expressive part of her. The way they'd sparkle when she was amused, lighten when she was happy, darken when she was upset, and cloud over when she was sad…they were the most reliable way of reading her. Now though, they're blank. Empty. Dead.

It takes an entire month before he's able to look her in the eyes without flinching. In that time, he makes a promise to himself—that he'll do whatever it takes to restore the light to them.

A/N: Did you like something about this chapter? Then please leave me a review :D

(I do hope I managed to flesh out the twins' personalities a bit more.)