Hello hello! While I was away on holiday I had plenty of time to focus on getting more chapters done for ItB! I actually got two done and a hefty start on a third chapter ^^ I could be the Cool Author™ and do a double update, but I'll save the next chapter for next week so everyone has enough time to read this one lol. Let me know what you think, and whether or not you saw it coming!

Chapter Nine

"Follow—the—lights—"

There's so much blood. She's never seen this much in one place before.

"—lights—Aki—ba—"

How long's the TV been telling her that? Five minutes? Ten? She can't tell anymore. She just keeps staring at her hands.

"Aki—iba—"

Why are they so big? Fingers stumps, her palms the size of her head. Skin ash-black like she'd just thrown herself into a pile of soot. They look almost like that little animal's hands, ripping apart the sleeves of her school uniform as they become too large for the fabric to contain.

"—he comes—Run—"

Who comes? Why is she going to run? Where will she run? She could be asking those questions, getting to the bottom of this, but she can't look away from her hands. Her blood-soaked hands, strands of her mother's hair tangled between the fat digits.

Yomi chokes out a sob.

"Sorry—Sorry—Sorry—So—"

"Shut up!" Yomi shrieks. Her forehead hurts in two spots, almost like bumps have formed from her clash with the bathroom sink. It makes her head ache worse than before. "Just shut up!"

The TV flickers off. No more static. No more random cuts between channels. Yomi is left in a forced silence, unable to ignore the realisation of what she's done now. Unable to keep staring at her hands, stuck in catatonic shock.

If she'd stumbled upon this scene, just walked into the house and happened upon her mother, she wouldn't recognise her. Yomi's not sure what she did or how she did it, but Homura is not... It's not family friendly, what she's looking down at. She's amazed that she hasn't actually thrown up yet, but the urge to is there. Something is rolling around in her stomach, and she hopes it isn't the thing she was force-fed a mere half hour ago.

The hair that tangles around Yomi's fingers have chunks of Homura's skull attached, pink and white and raw. The pieces of bone sticking out from the mangled mess at her feet, almost like spines on a porcupine, are stark white and almost blinding. The smashed furniture, splintered and snapped in half, almost frame the body like a painting's borders. A morbid picture of someone she'd never recognise ever again, laid out right in front of her.

Yomi's hands drop to her sides—no, her knees. They're so much longer now, making up for the size they'd grown past her elbows. The pain on both sides of her forehead is starting to fade at least, but that gives her more focus on the remains in front of her. She wishes she didn't have the chance to process it all.

Yomi did this. She absolutely mutilated her mother with her own bare hands.

She's a monster. The word circles around her mind over and over. Monster. Monster. Yomi stares down at her hands again, at the bits of her mother splayed over them. Monster. Monster. There's no other explanation for what's happened, for what's been happening. Monster. Monster.

The large fingers shake as she moves her hands closer together. It's difficult to pinch at the strands of hair properly, but eventually she gets a decent grip. The dark locks are unravelled and dropped to the floor, leaving behind a small pile at Yomi's feet that looks almost like a hairball something had just coughed up. She stares down at the hair, then at her mother again, before she inspects the backs of her hands for anymore. Nothing in sight—just a swirl of regular peachy skin starting from the backs of her enlarged hands that slowly unravel along her arms.

Yomi follows the trail. They're the only parts of her hands that hold her original skin colour, which makes her wonder how much more of her looks like soot. The stem of the swirl travels over her elbow and under the sleeve of her tee. Yomi swallows the large lump in her throat as she pushes the sleeve over her shoulder—and lets out a relieved breath when she sees the soot fade into her normal skin. The stem blends in with her shoulder, leaving a short streak where the soot starts.

These are her hands. Her hands. Not some animal's that she couldn't figure out the name of. Yomi's.

She starts shaking again—when did she stop earlier?—as one of the hands flies up to her hair. It fits almost the entire back of her head in its palm alone, and Yomi shudders at the feeling. It's like she's a child again, having one of her parents ruffle her hair playfully as she tries to steal a freshly baked cookie. The comparison brings a tug to her chest, a lurch to her stomach, and Yomi's throat closes up. She's not sure what to do. What does she do?

Yomi isn't sure how, but her feet manage to move on their own. Sluggish and dragging her toes along the floor, but she moves inch by inch out of the kitchen. Out into the hall. Along the faint trail of blood she'd left behind from her fall. She follows it right to the bathroom door, splinters digging into her feet as her heart feels like it's being torn in two.

There sits her phone on the floor, still taking Rin's call. She could feel amazed right now for how long he'd waited for her to come back, but she just can't. What's the point in feeling happy that he'd waited for her when the exact extreme she'd predicted came true tonight? Yomi may not have been the victim in this case, but someone has died in this house. Blood is on her hands—literally—and all Yomi can feel is anxiety and fear.

She drops to her knees, her knuckles knocking painfully against the tiles. She ignores the ache, doing her best not to throw up. Yomi hates throwing up; it always feels so terrible, always leaves a mess. Homura will get upset if Yomi makes a mess. She drags her hands out in front of her and crawls towards her phone. Being so low to the floor feels good right now. There isn't so many things to focus on, only pinkened tiles to occupy her attention.

Just before she has her head hovering over the phone, a loud clink sounds out in front of her. Yomi flinches—she felt that in her skull, of all things—and quickly lifts her head. As she does so, something tears into the porcelain of her bathtub and digs out a line of dust. Yomi stares in horror at the tub. She lowers her head, watching as bits of dust fall from the top of her head. Distantly she recalls the small nubs on the animal's head.

She scrunches up her face and lets out a whine. A murderous freak; that's what she is now. That's all she'll ever be when the police arrive and see Homura's blood all over her, when the news teams come flooding in at this bizarre case of matricide. All of the evidence would go against her, she realises once the phone is carefully pinched between two fingers. Even the fact that she'd never told anyone about Homura's change in personality would weigh against her.

The phone hovers just over her ear, the sounds of running on the other end and cars driving by in the background.

"O—" Her voice is course, her throat so dry that Yomi wonders how she never noticed before. How out of it is she? "Okumura?"

A breathless reply greets her. "Akiba! Did you get out?"

"She... She's dead..."

"What?"

The urge to throw up returns with a vengeance. Yomi forces it down. Homura won't like a mess all over the bathroom floor—Yomi already made a big enough one with all the blood. As she hesitates to go on, Rin keeps talking in her ear. "Akiba, I'm almost at your house—just stay calm."

"Calm," she wheezes.

"Yeah, calm. Just give me two min— Shit!" His voice vanishes for a moment, tumbling replacing it. Yomi thinks he must have dropped the phone, because what else could it be? Rin still hasn't picked the phone back up when she replies, but she figures now might be a good time to end the call.

Homura will get upset if she dawdles with cleaning up.

"I need... Need to get a mop. Sorry to bother you."

She hangs up.

"What's the verdict?" He keeps up with Shura's strides easily. Even as he keeps his eyes on the clipboard, on the papers that weigh as much as his glasses, he doesn't trip or stumble. Everyone else moves out of his way, watching him go on over their shoulders.

Shura loosens her scarf with a huff. "I personally think it's not a regular possession," she tells him. She bolts ahead to open the next door, sticking a foot out in an attempt to trip him as she waits. Yukio just walks over it, unfazed. "The way it presents itself reminds me of smaller-scale demons. Demons that can't possess humans."

"There's markings along the hands similar to a goblin's," Yukio agrees. He flips over the page, looking at the photos taken of the girl they'd apprehended. She looks like a completely different person compared to the last time he saw her; dead gaze and no fight at all, not entirely there and not entirely aware of those around her. She doesn't even look at the camera like most cases do.

Just what had happened in the Akiba house last night?

"Makes me wonder if it's another one of those demon eaters," Shura goes on. "They're not common, but they happen."

Yukio hums, agreeing again. Todo was proof enough of that back in Kyoto—and possibly even before. But for a similar situation to pop up so soon after? It feels almost too suspicious to be a coincidence.

"How far back has the background check gone?"

"Birth," Shura says. "I already checked for connections to Todo. Squat."

The next door opens, and before Yukio is the final wall keeping their new guest and the exorcists away. It's one of the interrogation rooms, kept guarded by two Middle Second class exorcists. They nod in greeting to the duo.

"Hasn't moved since we put her there," the taller one says. Yukio nods, flipping over to the next page. The pictures of Homura Akiba's body are not the worst he's seen, but definitely up there with his least desired after effects of possession. "Not even a peep."

Shura scratches the back of her neck with a groan. "At least she's not insisting she clean anymore."

"She was in denial," Yukio says dully. He really should be surprised to see the girl in such a state, but the sorry fight she'd put up during their last encounter left a less than ideal impression on him. Yomi used to be the one person of Assiah that he wanted to avoid no matter what, solely out of fear, but now she's no better than the small demons who would torment him as a child. Yukio grew out of his fear, and now he finds it ironic that she's right where he used to be.

It's ironic, but it's also perplexing. No connection to Todo, not even through her mother, and she happens to appear with goblin-like features with no signs of losing her humanity. She's not being used as a limp shield like Shiemi had been so long ago, and she hasn't shown an entirely different state of mind and desire to fight the exorcists who came to collect her. Still Yomi Akiba, but not.

Yukio hands the clipboard to Shura. "I'll see if I can get anything from her," he informs the guards. The taller one nods and steps aside, while the shorter opens the door with one of his many keys. The doors open outwards, momentarily blocking Yukio's sight as he prepares to see Yomi's state in person. Once there's enough space for him to enter, he adds, "I'll let myself out when I'm done."

The doors shut behind him. His whole world is now a room free of any belongings and windows, with only a pitifully possessed girl laying on her side in the middle of it all.

It may not be necessary, but Yukio made extra sure to keep his guns on him when he was told Yomi was brought in. Tranquilisers, poisons and the like. For all he knows a simple bullet won't do much damage, and outright killing her would go against everything exorcists stood for. At the very least they know tranquilisers work on her, especially with how quickly she went down when she tried to keep cleaning her kitchen.

Yomi doesn't bother moving as he stands over her. She doesn't even look up at him, still staring blankly at the doors. The blood on her hands is dried now, almost difficult to see along the darkened fingers and arms. Were it not for the swirl of regular skin along those arms, Yukio would assume the blood had been cleaned off.

"Akiba," he says shortly. A finger twitches—recognition. It's the most Yukio can get out of her in this state. "Do you recognise my voice?"

Another twitch. This time her fingers try to curl up into a fist, but they flop back onto the floor like she's suddenly gone boneless. Yukio tilts his head at her, waiting for a response part of his knows won't come yet. So he circles her, observes her. Takes in as much of the possession's effects as possible.

Two horns atop her head, one of them coated in a white dust. He ponders what it might be as he arrives behind her, finds a few apostrophe-shaped markings most goblins have on their faces along the back of her neck. He hums, continues on his way, and then stops in front of her again to try get a response.

"Akiba."

A twitch. No response.

"Akiba, look at me."

Nothing. She just continues to lay there pitifully, staring at nothing.

Yukio huffs out a sigh through his nose. She's basically gone catatonic, but at the very least he knows she's trying to break out of it. She knows where she is—she just isn't able to do anything.

He turns on his heel and begins walking towards the doors. He'll have to try again later, see if he can find something to bring her out of her daze. Just as he pulls out a key, ready to leave the room, Yukio freezes on the spot.

He swears he heard her just now. Softly, almost inaudible, but just there. Yukio glances over his shoulder at her, curious; she hasn't moved an inch, still watching him blankly.

And then he hears it clearly: "Sorry to bother you."

Yukio's hand drops to his belt instinctively. What does she mean? Is it connected to her mother's final moments? Did someone scold her on the way over? He makes a note of it before turning back to the door again, listening as she apologises again. Even as he walks back through and slides it shut behind him, Yomi apologises softly with each passing breath.

There's a name for this, he thinks as he catches Shura's eye. The man who defined what catatonia is had a symptom named after him—Kahl-something. The way she's acting fits the description to a T, Yukio thinks.

"Not a lot of response," he tells Shura. She pulls a pen out of her coat pocket and scribbles along the first page of the clipboard. "Fingers twitched a few times, went limp pretty quickly. Keeps repeating, 'Sorry to bother you'."

Shura hums. "Got'cha."

He thanks the guards and follows her on her way out. The name is right at the tip of his tongue: Kahl-something, Kahl-something. Shura pulls her phone from her pocket, already phoning someone to pass the information onto. Yukio just furrows his brows. It won't be long before they run into Rin, and the fit his older brother will throw will just derail Yukio's train of thought. If he doesn't remember the rest of that name now, it'll bother him for the next week.

Another door opens. Shura hangs up and digs around in her pocket again, pulling out a small tube with a yellow cover. He watches idly as she uncaps it and twists the bottom, a pale yellow stick of lip balm emerging. The name of the item echoes through his mind as he watches her apply it and smack her lips together with a loud pop.

"Kahlbaum," he blurts out. Shura doesn't even bother looking at him.

"A what now?"

"Nothing—just a word I had on the tip of my tongue." He waves her off as she opens the next door. Rin, as expected, is waiting right on the other side for them. Kuro isn't perched on his shoulders like Yukio expected, and all of the cram school students have left already. It's just his angry older brother staring him down, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Yukio can imagine the different ways he'll start complaining and arguing. He sucks a deep breath through his nose, ready to brush Rin off however he can and convince him not to butt in for once. But he doesn't need to. Shura takes matters into her own hands, shoving the clipboard into Rin's chest and pushing him back into a stumble.

"This," she says, starting to walk again, "is what you busted your ass to help."

A flash of horror crosses Rin's face—regret mixed in, Yukio thinks?—before he flips through each page on the clipboard. There's a fear in his brother's eye, something Yukio hasn't truly seen for a while now. Ever since the news broke about Rin's lineage, and the subsequent steps he'd taken to repair the damage it caused, Rin had been taking it somewhat easy. But now Akiba's incident seems to be hitting him hard.

Yukio wants to scowl. He's thankful at his practiced mask, but it's times like this where he wishes he could let it slip just a tad. He should've stopped them from talking so much. He should've made sure Rin had too much work to focus on instead of letting him laze about with a light scolding each time. Rin is on borrowed time—time she's taking from him even now. Yomi Akiba could've just been another case for someone else to handle, but because of Rin's tantrums he's gotten himself involved more than he should want to.

"She's not..." Rin looks up at Shura, then back at the paper. "Is there a—"

"Look at the possession traits," Shura interrupts him. She waves for them over her shoulder to follow, and naturally Rin obeys. Ever since he'd returned from Kyoto, Rin had been following Shura's directions more and more. Yukio can't help wondering if something she'd taught him over there brought on a sense of responsibility in his brother. "Those are goblin horns and hands."

"But goblins only possess rats." Rin looks up at Shura. He leans over to Yukio and adds in a whisper, "Just rats, right?"

"That's what's concerning," Yukio says instead. "We're keeping an eye on her while we make sure there isn't something else going on."

Rin gawks at his brother. Here he goes, Yukio thinks grimly.

"Something else—"

"Rin," Yukio growls. "After what happened regarding the Impure King, no one can afford to lower their guards around seemingly isolated incidents. Drop it."

Rin's face twitches, a sign that he wants to argue. But he doesn't; instead, his suddenly responsible older brother hands the clipboard back to Shura and keeps up with her strides.

"Does that mean you'll be interrogating her?" he asks. It comes out even and calm, but Yukio knows there's a rampage waiting to happen if even a hint of bad news is given in return.

Shura shrugs. "Four-Eyes did it today," she sighs. "I'll do it tomorrow. We'll see what happens if she doesn't respond from there."

There's a lapse of silence between them. Even as they continue down the corridor and Shura pulls out a key leading to the old boy's dormitory, none of them says anything. Even as Yukio and Rin follow her to their kitchen and divide leftover stew between them, no one makes a peep. Not until they all sit at the table closest to the kitchen and poke at their meals.

Rin breaks that silence—Yukio really can't find it in him to be surprised. It was only a matter of time before he came up with a solution to Shura's open answer.

"If she doesn't respond when you talk to her," Rin says slowly, "I want to give it a try."

Yukio jumps right in before Shura can allow it. "Absolutely not."

And there's that rampage, rearing its ugly head as Rin glares at Yukio. Back when Rin had first arrived at True Cross, he'd have burst into mild flames and jumped out of his chair; but now, when he stares down Yukio with a steeled expression, he looks like he's about to dig into his food instead of maim someone. Maybe Shura has taught him something useful, Yukio muses bitterly.

"Why?" Rin spits. Yukio stirs his stew and lifts the spoon to his lips, blowing gently against the steam.

"You're still just a—"

"Just an Exwire. Blah, blah, blah. I know." No signs of the anger escalating. Since when did Rin get into an argument without losing his cool? "I'm also the reason we even prevented that Unpure King stuff from spreading."

"Impure," Yukio corrects him. "And we were desperate then. This is a more controlled scenario."

"All the more reason to test my knowledge as an exorcist," Rin counters. Yukio wants to snort, but keeps the mask steady. Since when did Rin know how to argue reasonably? "Everyone goes in there at least once in their life, right? What better way to show how I'm excelling than by using that as an example?"

What even is the point? Why is Rin suddenly so fixated on getting along with this girl—this child who tormented them when they were kids—after so many years? Neither of them liked her. Neither of them was sad she'd moved away before they started middle school. As morbid as it was, Yukio was furious when he'd found out Father Fujimoto had invited her for dinner during her chemotherapy. It was hard enough hiding his own resentment at the time from his brother for forcing temptaint upon him in the womb—but hiding his disdain for a girl who wound up making the night a mess anyway?

He knows Rin has a hard time remembering things he doesn't care about, but he has to remember that disaster of a night, right? And if he doesn't, surely the unconscious hatred of her still remains?

Yukio wants to ask what his deal is. Yukio wants to ask how much the two had managed to patch up over the course of a mere hour last Saturday. Yukio wants to ask why Rin suddenly wants to act like a noble knight in the spotlight again when he just got out of it in time to focus on his studies. Rin's not a selfish person—not knowingly, at least—so it can't be a rush of pride fuelling him. So what is it?

As Yukio ponders this, purposefully ignoring his brother's question, Shura downs half of her stew in one giant gulp. She slams the half-emptied bowl back onto the table and leans against her elbows.

"So," she asks Rin, "what would do if you were allowed to interrogate her?"

The tension in Rin's posture and expression fades. The question must've caught him off-guard. "What?"

"If I let you in there," she goes on. "If she doesn't respond. How would you break through?"

To Yukio's surprise, Rin doesn't jump into an immediate answer. He turns his gaze to his stew, stirring it idly with his spoon. Maybe this will make him back down. He can't act on a whim or out of frustration, which means Yukio won't have to worry about his brother jumping in the middle of this issue for the sake of it.

Yukio takes spoonful after spoonful of his stew. Rin is the only one who doesn't eat, lost in thought as his brother and mentor finish their late dinners.

Even as Shura declares that she's off to bed, and Yukio decides he wants to finish up the next class plans, Rin still stirs his stew and ponders his answer.

Remember, next chapter comes out next week! In the meantime, let me know what you thought and whether or not Yukio's section sounded in character!