Project End

Chapter 10: "A Time for Home"

Kayano secured her hair into a tight ponytail, cracked her knuckles, and readied her knife. "You know how many are in there?"

"Last time I visited, this house had three members. I'm not sure how many prostitutes," Nagisa replied.

She nodded. "And you said you're easily recognizable, right?"

"Are we going to… attack them?"

Kayano glanced at the time on her phone. They had three hours until their transport arrived, until then she should do her best to help alleviate the mess she made. Karma said they were framing the people that enslaved Nagisa, and Nagisa was well known enough that the two of them avoided public. An impromptu appearance by Nagisa may just be enough to convince their enemies that his master was alive and still giving orders.

"Three is easy enough to take down," she murmured. Then she steeled her voice. "I need you to go in there and announce your presence, tell them you were sent to take the girls. Look menacing but don't hurt anyone, let them run away. I'll take care of the actual threats."

"I'll come to help you after they escape," he affirmed mechanically, almost like it was expected of him, as she began to work a lock at the back door.

She snapped her head in his direction and barked out a steep, "No!"

He flinched. A cold second passed and when she spoke again, her voice was softer. "No, don't fight unless you have to. After they are gone, hide. I will find you when everything is all clear."

She wouldn't let Nagisa fight anymore, especially for someone like her, he'd been through enough. It was bad enough she was using him like this. She focused on the door again, she had to slip off her gloves for the delicate work and her fingers were numbing in the freezing weather.

"Go," she said. "And stay safe."

"Okay," he confirmed robotically, with the efficiency she expected from a well trained soldier. A part of her remembered a similar voice, that would add, "you too, Kayano-chan." But that boy wasn't really him right now.

The lock gave in.

Her shoes were not meant for stealth, so she kicked them by the door. The night was drawing late and the sky was almost pitch black, so her targets were likely sleeping, or if Nagisa's intel was to be believed, drinking themselves into a sleep. From what little light that poured in, the whore house was a sad state, but so was the rest of the town.

She would only have a short moment before Nagisa would cause a panic, so she hoped to find them fast. She heard murmurs stifled behind walls, then the clinks of glasses and pots. The kitchen then.

Her targets hadn't noticed her, she crept like shadows, hiding in between the chairs that smelled of sweat and the trashcans overflowing with rubbish.

She saw the silhouettes of men against the dim overhead light, the closest to her fleshy and balding, the back to her was large and hiding most of the view, but she could see his ears were pink from drink.

She would do this fast, before they could even think about reaching for their guns. She memorized their distance and position, imprinting the space between her and victims in her mind, then reached for a blade, this Nagisa preferred seemed to prefer killing at close distance.

She flickered out the lights, and everyone went blind. Curses immediately erupted, more confused and annoyed than alarmed, and they began to bicker over their drink. Kayano sprinted, her feet sliding on the floor, keeping mindful of their approximate distance. When she neared a half a second later, she could see one looming figure, blurred into the darkness. She jumped from the edge of the chair he was once sitting on and in one fluid motion grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down. He let out a grunt of surprise and turned to react, but she already had the knife in the side of his throat.

He gasped and gurgled when she pulled it out, using the forward momentum to roll onto the table to her next target.

Now there were alarmed cries from the next man, completely in the dark and knowing something was here, ready for him, like a monster just under the bed. He was no longer where she had seen him to be, but she could hear the stumbling of panicked feet as he tried to fumble his way to the light switch.

He had managed to flicker it on, but before he could turn she had sunk that knife deep into his back. He screamed and twitched under her hands before slumping down, whimpering half dead. She spotted his gun, lying casually on the counter. She took it and put him out of his misery.

By now there were screaming women in the other rooms, Nagisa had made his move. Their captors were dead, the women were free, and now they only had to escape and tell everyone that Nagisa and his master had defected.

Wait, something wasn't right. She stared at her knife in a stupor, it weighed heavier as she struggled to remember.

Nagisa said there were three. Her eyes widened and her heart thundered in her chest. The third wasn't here, but that didn't mean he wasn't in the house. And if he wasn't going towards the sound of Kayano shooting the last man, then he would go for where Nagisa was.

She leapt into a desperate sprint, her feet thudding on the floors. Nagisa, Nagisa.

The front of the house was empty besides the young boy, staring at the open door, its hinges squeaking as the wind blew it further open. He looked almost thoughtful, staring at the gap.

A third woman ran into view, this one was no victim though, she wore thick clothing and carried her gun in her hands and anger in her eyes.

"Duck!" Kayano roared and Nagisa didn't miss a heartbeat, he fell to the floor as the woman raised her weapon and shot. Kayano sprayed bullets in her direction indiscriminately, the fear of losing Nagisa making her aim sloppy. It didn't matter, the impact of the shots punched through the woman's body and she fell sideways into the wall.

It was good that the woman was dead, because Kayano's hands were shaking so hard she probably couldn't aim again. She dropped the gun and stomped her way to Nagisa. He was taken aback at her appearance, her eyes were wide and her pupils were dilated, and she was panting heavily with a horrified look on her face.

"Are you hurt?" she asked hurriedly, her voice was quivering much to her horror. She inspected Nagisa quickly, her hands went to his face and turned it, then lowered to smooth out his loose clothes looking for any damage. "Did you get shot?" There was no blood, no scratches that weren't from the fight with Karma.

Nagisa was watching the display with caution and muted surprise. She palmed her eyes when she was satisfied he hadn't gotten hurt, letting the panic ebb away.

"Kuroko-sama," he said unsure. "They will be coming back."

"Right," she lifted her face from her hands and looked like the professional she was. "If we leave now, we'll make our ETA."

She gathered her shoes from the door, and ignored the smell of the dead men whose bowels were released upon their demise.

"Why did you let the women go?" Nagisa asked.

"We need them to be witnesses, so they think you and your… well you and your crew are still alive." She put on the heels and began to walk furiously through the alleyways, Nagisa kept pace a half step behind her. It was intentional, Kayano noted, far enough away for him to be out of reach if she decided to attack, but close enough to lunge in for a knife in the back. It was a smart distance.

She paused in thought, then added. "And they didn't deserve to be whored out. Now they're free."

Nagisa's steps hesitated, before returning to his pace. "They have nowhere to go," he said almost sagely.

"They can go wherever they want now. They're free."

"There's no freedom here," he said quietly. "They'll just be lost and hungry and in danger. They have nothing to live for."

He's talking about himself. He was lost, his master was dead and he was drifting nowhere, clinging onto the only other thing that seemed to be floating, her.

He didn't think he was better off, even though he had been abused and enslaved. She was no savior to him, she could see the way he was always scared of her, waiting for retribution, that there were no good memories of people left for him to have hope.

She turned to him and opened her mouth to scold him, to preach to him, that he was free, and that he would be happy, and that he didn't need anything like masters or orders. But he just looked at her with baby blue and a withdrawn face that silently echoed his sentiments, and the words fled her. He looked very small. And very cold.

So instead she slid her jacket off her bony shoulders, the coat was thick and opulent, and now stained with blood, but it was at least warm.

"Wear it," she said shortly.

He stared at it. "I can't, Kuroko-sama, you will be cold."

"Your hair," she lied, pointing at his head. "It stands out too much. My coat has a hood."

He let the seconds drag before he took it gingerly in his hands, the jacket was overtly feminine, but Nagisa had always been lovely in ways that girls often envied, so it fit him. Kayano reached the fringes and slowly zipped it up to his neck, her eyes following her hands until her face reached his. She flickered her gaze away from his eyes as she carefully pulled the hood over his head, securing over his frost bitten cheeks.

Better. He was warm now so it was better, even if he didn't know it. He said nothing the entire time, she dropped her hands.

She pivoted on her heel, continuing on pace and not letting the chill slow her down.

"Kuroko-sama," Nagisa said, and when she looked back he was offering his own coat. It was thin and ragged, worn in the elbows and the color faded unattractively. "For you." It probably didn't do much to warm anyone up, but any piece of clothing would be better than nothing.

"It's fine, you wear it," she dismissed.

"To hide your clothes," he replied. "It looks too rich for this part of town."

She eyed him warily before receiving it, she clutched it to her chest and felt the scratchy cloth in her hands. "Thank you," she said and he blinked at the sincerity. She pushed her arms around through his sleeves, he was just as small as he ever was. Really though, would they ever grow up?

When they returned to their quiet walk she looked up and watched the thin, dark clouds roll over the ruined moon. The fragment pieces of the moon hoovering in each others orbit, each fragment shone separately like its own star cradling the broken whole.

Even in a place like this, the moon was beautiful.

She was taking Nagisa home.


Hospitals were shit.

That's what Terasaka always told Hayami anyways. Hayami had to agree, blinking out of her stupor. Waking was a slow burn, her head was groggy and her limbs felt like lead. Her senses came alive even before her brain could process it, the quiet sounds shuffled feet beyond the doors and the smell of antisceptic that clung to her sheets like perfume invaded her before she even knew what they were.

Hayami stared at the unfamiliar ceiling for a good five minutes, slowly clearing her head. As the grogginess lifted from her head, pain began to radiate in her chest, it was burning deep in a place she couldn't reach. She touched her chest and memories blossomed again, she had been shot.

The first moments of the initial hit, she remembered, was full of confusion- something had happened but she wasn't sure what it was. She wondered if she was actually shot because it didn't feel like she thought it would, it felt like someone slammed into her, it hadn't been until she tried to stand up again did she realize she was all wrong. The pain came in waves, crashing into her and withdrawing in pangs of shock, and she counted her life in seconds before passing out.

She wasn't sure how long its been, she was alive and somewhere safe but the pain lingered and soreness creaked into her body, it was sharp but survivable. Maybe that was just the drugs. Her body was uncooperative and clumsy, but at least she was moving.

She was adorned in a hospital gown, unflattering blue loosely tied over her body, an IV in a vein in her hand, hopefully full of pain medication.

She turned her head and smiled.

"Chiba," she breathed. They let him stay with her, and the world was suddenly better. He was still, his chest rising and falling slowly in a sleepy rhythm, his tall, lean body slumped, dark hair tumbled over his eyes and his clothes impossible wrinkled- he had probably slept in it.

"Chiba," she repeated a little louder, her voice was hoarse from soreness.

He stirred at the sound of his name. He raised his head from where it rested on his shoulder to look at her, and when he saw her awake and smiling he went completely still, not even a muscle twitch.

Chiba was a boy hard to read, made even more difficult with his bangs that forever hid his eyes. His expression defaulted in neutrality, but years have made Hayami an expert. The slight tilt of his head, the almost inaudible change of his pitch, the way his hands settled on his knees, she could see through him as if he were made of glass.

It only made sense, they spent the worst moments of their lives together, clinging to each other desperately like driftwood on a churning oceans. They held each other up through the despair and the doubt and the stress of Project E, until finally they had forgotten what it was like to ever be apart.

Hayami raised her arms to him, asking for an embrace. Chiba didn't hesitate, his steps were almost watery in substance, ever moving but trembling, he walked the way men wept. He slid his arms awkwardly around her, the position was odd and uncomfortable, but when Hayami struggled to leave the bed so he could more comfortably surround her with his hug, the pain shot into her like a red hot iron bar pressing down on her chest. He stopped at her flinch.

Instead she slid to the other edge of the hospital bed, wordlessly asking for him to lay next to her.

He hesitated. "Won't it hurt?" He sounded so exhausted she wondered if he really got any sleep at all.

Hayami would not lie to Chiba, she didn't know how to. "My wound is on the other side," she said instead as a concession. He nodded, slid out of his shoes and slipped next to Hayami with soft care. He lay on his side, though she could not see his eyes she knew he was staring at her, studying her.

He pushed a stray hair behind her ear as he took her in, and she couldn't help but notice her hair was stringy and greasy from being unwashed and her breath was probably terrible.

"I'm gross," she said.

Chiba shook his head and then fully embraced her, clammy skin and all, careful to mind her side. His arms were strong around her back and though the movement sparked throbbing in her body again, the very fact that she could feel Chiba in her arms allowed peace wash over her, life felt real again this way.

He buried his head into the crook of her neck as his hands clutched into her skin. She felt his nose brush against the outline of her body and smiled. This was good, this is why she fought. She could feel his need to solidify her in his arms by the tightness and his tremble.

Her near death had almost broken him, she realized, because had the situation been reversed she would be broken too. She stroked his hair as he nuzzled deeper.

"Don't go," he croaked. She kissed his crown in question.

"Don't go somewhere I can't follow," he finished, devastated.

If Hayami had the power, she would never go anywhere without Chiba, but Hayami had no such power and she did not lie to Chiba, so instead she pried him off of her to get a good look at him. He let go reluctantly, he propped himself above her with his elbows.

Hayami did not say "I love you," she rarely said anything. It had made for awkward first dates and near silent nights of intimacy, but what she could do is smile. She cupped his face and ran her thumbs on his reddening cheeks, pink from emotional fatigue. Then she kissed him faintly on the lips, then the nose, the cheeks, then the neck.

When she reached his ear she turned her lips and whispered, "I am here."

And he too smiled with the relief of it all. This was it, she was finally home, home was Chiba's arms and smiles.


Karma hated wasted time, and bureaucracy was nothing, if not huge allotted wastes of time.

Debriefings were the king of wastes of time, he decided. He was removed from his team, put in a room, and asked the same godamn questions over and over again. He just wanted to go home, eat food that didn't resemble dogshit, and secretly plot an invasive reconnaissance of his own intelligence organization.

"Where did you go and what members were you in contact with?"

"Did you find any information on Agent Bu?"

"Did you at any time, reveal information that could potentially link back to the PSIA or Japanese involvement?"

"Was there any time you felt sympathetic to the goals of the People's Liberation Force."

Bald-san had been particularly grim, he guessed because Bald-san doesn't particularly change his expression, but the questioning was thorough. And because of just how much of a grueling process it all was, Karma was aware he was walking on a thin rope. He had to give enough that the case officer would be satisfied, and hold back the fact that he suspected there was a spy and that he was going to investigate it on his own.

Karma didn't have a problem with lying, he considered himself a connoisseur of half truths, and he understood the best lies were the ones grounded by underlying truths. What unnerved him, however, was the fact he had to rely on his friends to go sell the same story.

That one year in Class E aside, depending on others was never his strength, it would have been so much simpler if he had to go this alone. This stalwart separation did not help, he had no way to contact the others to confirm what they went through on their end.

It was a helplessness that made the itch return with a vengeance. Scratch, scratch.

"Do you believe you've contacted any diseases?" Bald-san asked, interrupting his own interrogation. He hadn't missed Karma's compulsive scratching, red streaks were starting to appear on his neck.

"I've been wearing the same clothes for three days," Karma shrugged. "How about letting me take a godamn shower first."

His request was ignored.

His physical came afterwards, to Karma's amusement. Here he was, sixteen escaping from another country with a broken arm, and they needed to make sure he wasn't stupid enough to scream out "For Japan!" while burning down towns before they made sure he wasn't dying of anything.

Medical checkups were as bad as debriefings, even at this facility his mission was secret, and his checkups involved a lot of nothing and vulnerability, with an expectation of honesty. The last part is why Karma had a babysitter to his exam.

"Injured while training in rockclimbing," his babysitter said to his doctor as he rotated his cuff. It was a lame cover story, but it seemed to work. Simplicity worked beautifully without much support.

Now, how the hell they were going to cover up Hayami's gaping bulletwounds was a mystery beyond him.

"Whoever set your bone did a fine job," the doctor said. "You're lucky, if it's been set poorly then your arm would have begun healing the wrong way. You'd have to rebreak the entire thing."

"Yeah, incredibly lucky. It's great we had a guy like that just rockclimbing at the same time," Karma snarked. His babysitter shot him a warning look. Karma smiled just for him.

Karma walked away from that entire situation knowing one thing; they were pissed. Project E's first international clandestine mission was a disaster, Bitch-sensei was still stuck behind enemy lines, the PSIA agent they wanted to find was dead and they still don't know why, they engaged in a very brazen firefight that couldn't be swept under the rug, they may or may not have been compromised, and one of their sixteen year old operatives was recovering from a gunshot wound in a country that banned guns.

Karma figured that if he did tell someone that parts of Project E were now secretly working on an internal investigation, they might just shit themselves into a stupor.

Karma grinned. Now wouldn't that be a fucking tragedy.

Twenty four observation, they insisted, because after trauma they had to assess whether or not they were ready for release to the public. Karma showered and wore the clothes provided, and tried not to scratch his skin off.

He needed to get out of here and find Kayano.

"Yo, Karma-kun," said the voice of an asshole.

"Hiroshi." Karma glanced around. "Hm, odd."

"Oh?"

"I'm reflecting but I can't think of any reason why I'd be punished by having you inflicted on me."

Hiroshi smiled and patted Karma on the back. "It's good to know that whatever happened to you, you're still as just a shit as you've ever been." Hiroshi pulled out a hard pack of cigarettes, tapping the bottom and taking it with his crooked teeth. "And it's Watanabe-san."

"So what are you here to do? Kill more puppies? Spread pestilence."

Hiroshi checked his watch with half interest. "Going for a walk. How about you join me?"

"As much as I enjoy your company, I'm under lockdown for the next few hours," Karma said. He rolled his aching shoulders and tried to wander off. He really didn't have the endurance for Hiroshi. Trying to pin down Hiroshi was like trying to grab at water, an exercise in futility.

Hiroshi bah'd, waving a hand in dismissal. "I signed you out, as it turns out as long as you aren't showing any signs of mental instability on the trip, I can bring you along." A warm handed plodded on Karma's shoulder and Karma resisted the urge to stab it away. "The joke's on them, you've always been mentally unstable. You just haven't been a threat."

"Yet," Karma's smile was supposed that being with Hiroshi was better than wasting inside with the recycled air, but not by much if he kept listening to Hiroshi laugh open mouthed.

-x-

"Where the hell are we?" Karma asked quirking an eyebrow, the building was crowded, there were middle aged men everywhere with hungry looks in their eyes, drinks clinked, sloshing cheap beer, and the air was thick with cigarette smoke.

"A casino," Hiroshi replied lightly, then mouthing to a bodyguard that Karma was his son in explanation. The day that we could pass as related is a sad one indeed.

"Gambling is illegal in japan."

"Oh well, if that's the case, then it obviously mustn't be one," he said taking the hat off his head and pressing it to his chest solemnly. "We take the law here very seriously."

"You talk entirely too much for someone who has little to say."

"I'd like to think I'm a fountain of knowledge if you'd attempt to listen," Hiroshi took out another cigarette. It was a wonder if his lunges were not just a set of black smog. "Small casinos exist all over Japan, but they're run by the Yakuza. Lucrative business, letting people bet their lives away. The desperate always find more to lose." He took a long drag, the butt flaring red.

"So what, you're telling me you're Yakuza now?"

Hiroshi smiled, taking the cigarette between the two of his fingers and then waving it in the air glibly. "Do I look like a man who tries that hard?"

"Look at where you work."

"I'm a teacher, I like teaching. Working for people like them is a little too much ambition for a man like me."

"If you're a teacher, then my generation really is damned," Karma said flatly, Hiroshi gently guided him near a table. "If you aren't one of them, then isn't your civil duty to report this?"

"Yes," he said. "But it also seems I'm a fan of Mahjong." He nodded appreciatively towards the table, a smile like warm nostalgia only offset by stained teeth. They all ignored him, focusing on the small tiles as they clinked together in near worship.

"So are you gambling?"

"Not today." He looked like he was in his element, so natural no one even bothered to question Karma. "Today we do my second favorite activity."

"Wasting my time?"

"People watching. Good guess though." Hiroshi settled back, observing the cramped room like it was his kingdom. "Gamblers are funny people, it's the universal sport, all classes and countries do it, despite knowing the consequences. It's especially true in our country where it's still illegal."

"So what are you watching for?"

"The whole gambit," Hiroshi threw out his arms in overplayed enthusiasm. "The losers, the lucky, the ones that treat it like a fun afternoon activity while sitting next the man who breaks his family apart. But my favorite of all-" He leaned in- "Is watching the cheaters."

"If finding the cheaters was easy, then they wouldn't be cheating so often," Karma said. Who in their right mind, anyway, cheated the Yakuza?

"If it wasn't a challenge," Hiroshi replied, "then where would the fun be?"

Karma surveyed the room.

"Not so obvious. You can't catch a cheater if you look like you're searching."

Karma rolled his eyes.

The room wasn't at all like the casinos he saw in Western movies, the building was cramped and tight, and there were no bright lights and high pitched bells and whistles. It was a lot of people, all concentrating in front of them, some laughing, some looked on the verge of crying, all of them wanted more.

It was a lot of bodies to sort through. He began to mentally filter them out, he discarded the losers, poor folk with trembling hands and runny noses, sliding their last dime in desperation.

It didn't always pay to keep tabs on the miraculous winners either, good luck came and went, but those that relied on manufacturing it, wanted to do so without drawing attention.

They would lose from time to time, but made enough for a profit.

He figured, idiots that got too ambitious didn't get to make the same mistakes twice.

"See," Hiroshi lightly slapped the table, "That's the look I wanted to see. Whatever you did on your vacation, it's nice to see you've grown up."

"You talk too much shit," Karma said, propping up his head on a lazy lay of his arm. "Nothing happened on my vacation, and people watching is a chore."

"Yes, yes," he sighed as he waved down the bartender, cupping his hands like he was holding a drink and tipping it to his face in request. He looked back at Karma. "If you're that irritated, I can give you a hint?"

Karma cast a long look from his periphery. "The man in the red shirt and the one drinking in the corner by himself. He's looking at the opponents cards and signaling him."

Hiroshi raised a brow. "Oh? That fast, eh?"

"Most people who cheat at cards don't have any useful sleight of hand tricks. It's not about skill, it's about nerve," Karma said flippantly, all the while continuing to scan the crowd. Most people were too focused on their own cards or whatever poison of choice they were gambling with to notice how frequently the two caught each other's eyes. Shifty gazes that would normally just be shaken off as a nervous player with darting eyes if not for the fact the man drinking in the corner was repeating the same motion over and over.

Hiroshi laughed. "I taught you well, if you're the one giving me tips now."

Karma breathed through clenched teeth at the thought of Hiroshi being his teacher. He had a teacher who he cared about once. And that didn't matter in the end either. "When are you're going to sign my release?"

"When you figure out who his other partner is," Hiroshi said, then walked over to the bar and thanked the man for his drink with typical Japanese politeness.

Karma spent the last few days being sold, nearly killed, and finding out ghosts of old friends were walking among him, he wasn't in the mood to be played with or preached to.

"Careful now," Hiroshi warned while swirling a drink in his hand lovingly, "How am I supposed to sign you out when you look at me like that. A lesser man would see that as a threat."

"Just let me go, Hiroshi."

Hiroshi made a thoughtful hum in the back of his throat. "No."

Karma's glare intensified.

"There aren't many times I get you when your guard is stretched thin. I want to watch," he said.

"Watch me hurt you?"

"Watch what you do when you're under real pressure," Hiroshi said. "What? I told you what I like doing is people watching. You're my favorite target."

"There are safer ways to getting your rocks off."

"Why Karma, all this avoidance. If you needed a hint, you could just ask."

Karma took the glass from Hiroshi's glass, with intent that caused even him to let it go, and then spilled it on the floor without breaking eye contact. They said nothing. Then Karma said, "You shouldn't drink on the job. If you don't sign me out, I could report you." He let the tension roll out of the air with an easy smile, even if it was just superficially.

Hiroshi looked pleased that Karma got the better of him, which was disgusting in all honesty. He watched as Hiroshi dabbed at the spilled alcohol with napkin. "You've cornered me," he sounded satisfied. "I almost feel proud."

Hiroshi wiped the spilled liquor with a grubby napkin. "If you were better at reading people, Karma-kun, you would know that I really do enjoy teaching you brats. I don't take jobs that I dislike, an I like watching you grow brilliantly." He looked up in contemplation, head bobbing thoughtfully, "sans the whole before mentioned inability to read people."

"Maybe it keeps me sane," Karma said, letting his chair slide back with an awkward scrape against ceramic floors. "Life's hard enough without getting into other people's head."

"Life is lovely, if you gave it a try." he said. Then he sighed, "It would nice if you just did what I said and find the other guy, but beating me at my own game works just as well."

"If me beating you makes you happy, then you're life is about to get a whole lot cheerier," Karma replied, gathering his coat, leading the way outside. Hiroshi followed.

"And Hiroshi," he glanced back with a bored look on his face. "The last guy? The sneezing woman at the bar."

Hiroshi barked out a laugh.


A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I had this and another chapter awaiting editing. Editing is the worst. It makes me want to cry. This chapter wasn't suppose to exist, it's largely a "filler" chapter, but I find recuperating chapters after arcs are the best time to explore characters and relationships and I needed a tie in before the next arc begins. This pretty much ends the first story arc out of three.

Autistic-Grizzly: Karma's one of those characters, when he starts to plan, the audience goes "oh crap, here it comes." That tension translates nicely even to fanfiction. But yes, Karma is sort of the sleeping giant, and he just woke up.

TheRoseShadow21: Here it is, the Hayami/Chiba monologue I've been hoping to pump out because they are the otp. Unfortunately it's short because plot demands to continue, but there's emotional significance there. I think if Hayami died, Chiba would have as well, one way or another, and their defeat wouldn't just be a technical one, it would be a total devastation.

As far as Sugino, I think Karma has a tendency to look down on most people, but Sugino especially because out of all of them- he didn't quite fit in with the weirdness and brokeness of it all. It made his suffering more visible but also the people around him who adapted to everything more uncomfortable too, because somewhere they understand that Sugino is the normal one.

As far as Isogai, yes, he does pop up in this story arc (although Hayami and Chiba do cycle out). It'd be a shame not for him to do something since he's such a likeable character.

KyrieEleisonElise: Nagisa, and the Nagisa-Kayano dynamic, will pretty much be pretty big in the story arcs, so I hope you enjoy them. I missed the blue haired assassin.

FlameBrainx791: Thank you so much for your review and critique! Characterization is my favorite part of writing fanfic, even when the characters are different, I hope to explain and show why they are different in a believable way. I think death has a weird way of hitting characters, Karma needing for it to make sense was the most interesting because it was something that not only you didn't expect but also he had to justify in his own head. Karma's one of those guys who, at least to himself, actions must make sense, even if it is being motivated by something emotional.

Kayano's one of those people who is driven completely by emotion, and thus people dying to her just sets of a switch. At that time, Kayano didn't just lose a person she liked, she lost the people she loved most in a short period of time, and so she went the extra mile in having to cope.

You're right, I misspelled Koro, I don't know how that slipped my attention. Thank you again.

-And thanks to all who favorited/followed!