Even through masks, the guards looked guilty enough for even him to pick up on it.

Gone.

"Yo." He called out the one to his left between the two standing at the door, and with conditioned immediacy, the young guard bowed his head.

The Executioner stood there silently, a second too long, then left, walking down the hall. He could tell his partner watched his back as he followed.

…

"Hey, 'Bitro."

Arbitro's attention moved to the other Executioner. Gunji hadn't said a thing since arriving in his office to deliver the report of the morning's patrol.

"What is it?"

"..."

Unusual. He was never without words. It must be a tendency he picked up from Akira.

"...Where is he?"

"Are you referring to Akira?"

Gunji's eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head in discontent.

"Well, it's only proper to address him by name." He couldn't quite place the Executioner's expression. He was quite serious. "It would seem he finally decided to take his leave."

"Leave?"

"Yes. I allowed him to make his own decision. The guards were to concede to his departure if Akira so chose." Arbitro tapped a finger against the desk for emphasis. "And he chose."

With those words, Gunji's irritation eased. He looked as if he were about to say something but instead held a incomprehensive silence. Unusual still. Arbitro thought he might as well offer some words in way of assistance.

"Have you ever heard of a certain saying? On letting things go." He placed his hands together. "Should it return, it is yours. If not, it never was."

He couldn't tell whether or not his words were truly registering in the Executioner's mind. When he left, Arbitro sat in something akin to amazement and curiosity. Even Kiriwar's eyes were still on the closed door.

"Brat's seriously all messed up."

...

It wasn't his thing just to forget. He couldn't just ignore it. Akira left and it wasn't difficult to figure out why. It never occurred to him that he would take the chance to leave. Now that he thought about it, Akira never really responded to him. Did he ever? He almost never smiled, never laughed. At one point, he somehow had the impression that Akira reciprocated. Now, it was apparent he never did. It had been one-sided, and Akira could only go along with it.

The vague agitation in Gunji's chest turned into a painful ache. He'd never felt rejection like this, and so clearly, before. So that was it. It wasn't too difficult to figure out that he had forced Akira into this position.

…

He and Kiriwar knew of the ravaged club the next day. A neutral zone. Violence of all kinds occurred in Toshima, but no one had ever crossed the line. Attacking a neutral zone was unheard of.

"Stinks of Line in here." Kiriwar wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was the Executioner' job to clean up after the bodies. Normally, he would be completely averse to the idea of it, but afterward, he was relieved not to have recognized Akira in the mess. The two concurrent events, his leaving and the carnage, were too coincidental.

They finished late in the day. Although patrol was over, Gunji stayed out. Kiriwar didn't care enough to ask why, so Gunji left on his own for the other neutral zone, the hotel.

17:00.

He wasn't so bold as to enter. He didn't want Akira seeing him first, as that would most definitely be the case should they happen to be in the same place. His very presence drew attention. Akira would avoid him. He knew that. So he stayed outside by the entrance for the time being, watching Igura participants enter and leave.

17:51.

It was dark now, and he let the sounds his boots made echo, just to sate his boredom. It rained hard not too long ago, and he'd had to take shelter under the canopy that stuck just above the hotel entrance. People running in and out. Boring. He'd been falling half asleep just standing there, and it was gettting too dark to see anything anyway.

After waiting out the rain, he started making his way back to the mansion. Purposefully, he took a longer route. Alleys and unfrequented paths. And just as he expected, no one was out on the street. Not just after the storm.

He stopped just before turning the corner.

…

…

...

The harsh grind of metal jarred Akira back into reality, and the sudden absence of pressure left him dazed. The silence that followed did nothing to lessen the ache in his head.

The brutal shock of the blow was enough to drive Akira's assailant back a good distance. Only stumbling shuffles and an obscure figure. He couldn't make out much of him in the limited light. Whoever it was stood meters away, in an instinctively defensive stance. As if mirroring the Executioner, he held his left hand out to the side, bleeding. Whatever weapon he'd held had scattered off into the dark, too far to be useful now. The glint of it caught the corner of Gunji's eye.

Something similar to a knife. No. A screwdriver.

He turned to look behind himself. Akira. Blood dyed a section of his hair dark red and ran along the side of his face. He looked as if he were about to collapse, held up only by the scrape of his raw palms against the concrete. Unanticipated, Gunji's chest burned, and he moved his arm to block him. Protect him.

Then, grey eyes met his. Briefly. He turned back, unable to face them. Their vague sense of recognition spurred him to look away. He didn't want to meet those eyes. Furthermore, distraction couldn't hold his gaze for too long.

The man that stood before him hadn't moved at all. Through prolonged confrontation, murky eyes met his. He knew exactly who they belonged to.

A Line addict.

No shit.

Irrationally. Mentally, he challenged the man to move. Lunge. Scream. Run. In silent fury, he stilled. Anticipating. Waiting to be provoked. But when those murky eyes came into the light, he hesitated. He recognized him.

...

The crowd parted to reveal a young man with short brown hair wearing a worn pair of coveralls. The timid guy fidgeted, his brown eyes moving back and forth from the ground to the Executioners.

...

...Kei...suke.

Keisuke was the name he recalled.

But.

This guy was entirely too different. The expression on his face reflected a sharp contrast between the person who had so timidly approached him before and the antagonizing presence who stood before him now. Not weak. Strong. And violent. Save for appearance, there was no trace indication that this was the same person. He met the Executioner's gaze with cocky, even eyes. Something only Line addicts did.

There was a sadistic repulsiveness in them. In his chest, anger, disgust, cognizance, stigma all fed the fire. Keisuke's eyes repelled him.

Because they reminded him of himself.

Internally, he scoffed. Akira's friend? There was no way this was the same person.

He already decided he didn't like this guy.

Gunji's eyes moved to the tag hanging around Keisuke's neck. Not only was he an addict, he was an Igura participant. Two conditions that were almost always concurrent. Igura, In other words, meant that he was fighting without witnesses. Breaking rules was one thing. Attacking Akira was another.

Light played off the blades of his knuckles, anticipating. His body turned, and that same change mirrored in the man standing before him.

"Keisuke."

And the Executioner stilled at the sound of Akira's voice behind him. The eyes of the addict in front of him shifted accordingly, focusing just over the Exectuioner's shoulder.

"Don't–"

A jarring grind jilted the both of them.

When Gunji's eyes had also followed, Keisuke moved. With the inhumanly fast speed only Line addicts had. But the vicious slash was countered with the adeptness of one accustomed to fighting against it. Reverberations echoed in the way the Executioner knew would stun him. It should have created enough time to slice Keisuke's chest clean through. Addicts were wide open and cocky, evidently a result of the drug's side effects. However, a spur of the moment reflex saved him. A last second dodge. So Keisuke was pretty compatible with Line. Lucky for him, not that it would matter in the end.

Gunji delivered a brutal kick to his side in that same instant, and it definitely caught him with the brunt of the impact. Keisuke braced himself, trying to ignore it. He was momentarily stunned for now, but the only thing stopping Gunji from finishing him off was Akira.

It was Keisuke he'd called out to. Not him.

They remained in strained stand-off for a while longer. Keisuke glowered back, still holding his side, pissed off, while Gunji clenched his jaw in self control. A ticking time bomb impossible to defuse.

"...Heh? So it's the Executioner." The corner of Keisuke's mouth quirked up in mock greeting, placing emphasis on each syllable. "'Nice to meet you.' I could say that, but this isn't the first time we've met."

"Hmph."

"So...Akira, this is the guy, right? The one that caught you and kept you? You don't look too good." His gaze moved to the Executioner, pointedly. "Wonder where you got those scars?"

"...This isn't–"

"I mean, isn't he the bad guy here? I wanted to do something sooo badly. D'you know how long you've been gone, Akira?"

"This isn't–"

"Hey. You. Say something." His eyes narrowed to a glare, no longer addressing Akira. "I'm curious... What did you do to Akira?"

Gunji didn't speak up.

"Figured something bad had happened, but to Akira, that's just too cruel." Intensity flickered in Keisuke's eyes, behind the derisive smile. "Well, Akira definitely wouldn't have gone down without a fight. Guess that's why... But. Why didn't you kill him?"

"..."

"I mean, why'd you want to keep him around? I know he's real nice to look at, but..." Then he paused, as if something had just occurred to him. "Oh."

Gunji's eyes narrowed.

Keisuke caught Akira's eyes with his own mock sympathy. "Poor thing."

That truth couldn't really be denied, and it wrenched out Gunji's guilt. It was only when he felt his arm held back that he realized he'd nearly been provoked into action.

"Hey..." Keisuke was laughing at this point. "Akira, I don't think you know at all what kind of trouble your pretty face'll get you into."

Akira tried to speak to him. "Keisuke, I..."

But once again, his words were cut off. Keisuke was far from wanting to listen.

"It really must've hurt, Akira... Bet that was the first time you'd ever been fucked–"

The Executioner cut those barbs short. But Keisuke met him with equal aggression.

A knife soared through the air, aimed at Gunji's face with incredible speed, but with a deft feint off to the side, he countered, his blades heading straight for Keisuke's abdomen.

"Kh...!"

The sensation of metal biting into skin was not unfamiliar. But those blades hadn't sliced through where he wanted. His attack had been met with a desperate block. Keisuke grit his teeth as his hand clenched over Gunji's, miraculous having avoided being sliced off. Blood tricked down his hand, but it held firm, not shaking even minutely. Keisuke hardly looked fazed by the pain. He moved solely out of the understanding that, drugged up on Line of not, getting stabbed clean though would have meant almost certain death.

This time, the Executioner had been serious about ending it then and there.

And unfazed, Keisuke spoke again.

"...Hey...do you think I'm crazy?" His eyes expressed a genuine curiosity. "...Then what's it mean to be sane? Are you sane?"

He laughed.

"I mean, what the fuck is he to you?" His addressed Gunji harshly. "And what are you trying to do now? I don't know about you, but it looks to me like you did an awful lot of things. Killing, especially."

The blades were no longer cutting so viciously into his skin.

"Last time I saw Akira, he didn't have those scars. And it really looks a lot to me that he didn't want to be there." Keisuke continued, unfaltering. He knew he was right. "Somehow, I get the idea that you did a whole lot more than just hold onto him. I'm sure you wanted to have some other kind of fun. Just killing isn't enough, is it? And I don't see any other reason you would keep him alive."

"As long as it's got a pretty face and a sweet body, it's game, right? ...You fucked him 'cause you thought it'd be fun." His twisted smile curled with animosity. "Is anything I'm saying mistaken? Tell me about it...Executioner."

"..."

"Heh? He isn't even saying anything." He taunted. "Can't deny it?"

Akira spoke up. "Keisuke, we need to talk."

"Was it fun?"

"This isn't something–"

"Hey...listen!" Keisuke's voice suddenly lowered. He snapped. "Akira. You always look at me like that...yeah?"

That sudden outburst had Gunji on edge immediately. Sparks flew when their weapons clashed again.

"Damn...still fucking hurts!" It was the same hand the Executioner had knocked the screwdriver out of before.

"Enough, already." Gunji growled. "I don't get half the stuff comin' out your mouth."

Keisuke sucked in a sharp inhale. The corner of his twisted smile quirked up. "What? It's me that doesn't get you. Why'd you jump in? D'you get attached just 'cause you fucked–"

The Executioner's eyes burned with violence, but another voice interrupted his intent.

"Gunji! ...Let him go."

"..."

There was no outward sign, no guarantee, that the Executioner heard him. Akira almost intervened, but as if sensing that intent, Gunji eased up, taking his blades off Keisuke's.

He turned. "He–"

"Let him go."

"..."

When he turned back around, Keisuke was already gone.

"Tch."

Irritation pricked at him for not noticing, and he felt compelled to follow. It wouldn't be too difficult to find him again even if he were fast. But Akira.

Akira's condition took priority. His irrational mind drove his desire to track down and kill the Line addict right now, but he couldn't ignore the unfamiliar and overwhelming concern churning his thoughts.

"Akira... Ya okay?" His words came out more uncertain than he'd expected.

The danger had passed, but Akira turned the bloodied side of his face away from the Executioner. He looked cornered, ready to run. Gunji stood back, unable to close the distance Akira held between them.

"Your head."

"It's fine." He raised his far hand halfway up, subconsciously reaching for the wound, but he quickly checked himself.

"It's not fine." Gunji moved towards Akira, but the hand with which he reached out was brushed aside. The abrupt rejection caught him off guard, but he persisted. "Akira, ya can't..."

Akira had retreated to the point where his back was touching the wall again. He'd regressed back to the self that withdrew from the Executioner.

"Don't touch me."

...

…

...

Akira touched the side of his face lightly, measuring the damage. It wasn't even very painful. It only looked bad, with all the dried blood in his hair and on his forehead.

The small bathroom just beside the church room had only a dull mirror and a questionably working sink, but it was enough. He turned on the faucet and brought the water to the side of his face.

"..." Cold. And the lacerations were still raw. He ignored the numbness and dabbed at them with his shirt. He'd have to apologize to Motomi later. Also, he was going to have to wear the Executioner's shirt again.

...

The Executioner's attention was drawn to the creak of the opening door. He must have noticed the change in clothes, but if so, he didn't mention it. Akira was relieved at the sound of the rain. The storm hadn't passed yet. At the very least, he didn't have to deal with complete silence.

The quiet and the dim light in the room set a stark contrast from the dark and the tension of the confrontation earlier.

The matchbox in the night table's drawer must have been Motomi's. Candles didn't offer nearly as much luxury as Arbitro's mansion. That was something he could have pointed out to Gunji, but he didn't. Throwing him out, somehow it felt as if that would be the same as tossing a dog out into the rain.

Why did he let the Executioner follow him?

Akira adjusted his shirt on the opposite side of the room.

It wasn't smart. The Executioner knew where he stayed now. Akira couldn't return here if he wanted. Using Motomi's shirt, he carefully dried his hair. If the confrontation between him and Keisuke hadn't been interrupted, what would have happened? It almost aggravated his injust thinking over the possibility.

He dropped his hand from his head and looked over to the Executioner standing on the opposite side of the room. Their eyes locked for a moment. So he was being observed again.

He was tired of keeping his guard up. With every moment, he held a pretense. Ease. Indifference, coldness. It was tiring to stay constantly paranoid. And he didn't want to break the calm of the room with questioning. How did the he find him? Why did he do what he just did? The answers didn't matter. It wouldn't make a difference whether or not he knew how or why.

"Gunji."

It felt strangely misplaced to call him by name at this moment.

He caught Gunji's attention. "...Yeah?"

What did he want to say again? Akira dropped Motomi's bloodied shirt on the only chair in the room.

"...Thanks."

For once, Akira wasn't cautious of his intent. He couldn't shake him when he tried to return to this room, but it didn't seem the Executioner's intent was to take him back. Akira didn't know why he was staying. Other than the obvious reason, the storm. The rain outside fell relentlessly, oblivious to the atmosphere inside.

He sat down on the bed. He would have felt inclined to tell him to take a seat, but there weren't any. When he looked up again, the Executioner had a look of surprise on his face. Thanks. Was it really so worthy of such a reaction?

"...Nn." Gunji looked aside.

The Eexecutioner stood against the wall, and he sat on the edge of the bed. They were facing but not looking at each other. It was as if some indiscernible question, caught between them, hung in the air. There was no mention of Keisuke or Line or the mansion, and Akira didn't want his wound brought up. He would rather deal with the silence.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gunji shift against the wall.

Neither of them were going to get any rest if they kept on like this.

"Why did you...?" Akira didn't finish his question. He wasn't entirely sure what to ask.

"...I've done a lot of things I ain't proud of, Kitty." His eyes caught Akira's at the address of the old nickname. At the sound of it, Akira recalled. Gunji'd stopped calling him solely by that name. It was a pointed reminder of what he'd done before.

"Hired off the streets. I was pretty bad before takin' this job, ya know. I did it just 'cause I felt like it. And life was pretty good this way."

That sounded just like him. At least, the him from before, the one who wouldn't any reservations about killing. Akira'd heard this story before. It was everyone's story. A lot of his generation strayed into violence. After all, they were trained to fight. Nothing else but a disconnect could have been expected from being thrown haphazardly to randomly assigned parents.

"I haven't really kept track of how long I've been here." The Executioner tilted his head up, staring at the ceiling. "Then I saw you. It was even before... Ya were really distractin' Pochi, ya know."

Akira remembered. It was after just he'd arrived at Toshima. And it was the first time he'd seen the Executioners. Even now his tags were of questionable origin to him. So he had attracted the Executioners' attention back then. Recalling the tag thief, he hadn't been ignored a second time. A twinge of bitterness sparked in his chest.

"Why'd you let me go that first time?"

At the change in tone, Gunji looked at him briefly and then looked away again. "It was 'cause patrol was over... And that was the first time I'd seen ya there. I was curious."

Curious? What did that mean? Curious about what?

"Then later, I recognized you." There was a break in his words. "I knew ya didn't really have anythin' to do with the tag thief."

Somehow, that inconclusive answer incited old antagonism within his chest. His jaw clenched in recollection, and he stood up, slowly crossing the already close distance between them.

"Why? ...Why did you do it?" It was the worst pain he'd ever been put through. And for more reasons than just the physical. "It hurt so much I thought I was going to die."

That wouldn't have been any fun though, would it?

He wanted the Gunji to look straight at him and say it.

"Why didn't you just kill me?"

No answer.

He knew each word hurt. He felt it, too. Gunji couldn't say anything. And that averted gaze was full of guilt. It was clear now.

It hurt so much. Worse than he'd thought. He thought that– ...He didn't know what he thought. What did he expect? He didn't expect this burning in his chest. It no longer felt like anger, but it was just as intense.

He finally caught that averted gaze.

When Gunji looked at him, his expression changed. "Akira."

Why did he look so taken aback?

Akira tried to grasp why. What kind of face was he making right now? Subconsciously, he reached up, with the hand on the same side as his wound. Gunji caught it before it touched. What happened next was the last thing he expected.

He pulled Akira into a shockingly tight embrace. Just as roughly as his own speech. It was so sudden Akira forgot to push him back. He didn't know what to do with his arms. With no room to move, Gunji's head nudged into the space between his neck and shoulder, carefully avoiding the side of his head.

"Sorry." He said quietly.

It was so drastic an understatement it was almost absurd. He never thought he'd ever hear the Executioner apologize.

"...Sorry." He repeated.

Again.

" I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." Gunji's hold tightened. "I'm sorry, so... don't look like that."

A break inbetween his words.

"Don't...look at me like that."

Huh?

He decided. That he must have looked as though he were in pain. It must have been a result of the dull ache at the side of his head and the anger on his face. Did he look as if he were about to cry? And suddenly, the feeling that wasn't quite anger faded into something else. A vague memory. They'd been in this situation once before.

He hadn't meant to get this worked up. He'd just gotten too wound up from everything that had been happening recently. He turned his head aside, but there was no hiding at this distance.

His mask of strength fell away. It had been crumbling for a while now. Ever since he had come to Toshima, events had chipped at that apathetic pretense, and now, it had finally fallen apart.

So Gunji couldn't handle seeing him crying. Underneath everything, it was almost endearing. He was about to reassure him that he wasn't when Gunji spoke first.

"...Your head... Does it still hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"..."

"It's fine." With nothing else to hold onto, his arms went around Gunji's back. "...So stop asking."

Akira closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Only now did he feel truly exhausted. Gunji wasn't letting go either. They stayed that way for a long while. The sound of the rain permeated the quiet atmosphere. Only now he finally relaxed.

"...Akira."

"...?"

Gunji pulled back just enough to be able to look at him. There was that burning feeling in his chest again. Those normally hidden eyes conveyed something he didn't quite believe...

Reflexively, he closed his eyes.

He was already so used to the way Gunji kissed him. There was a comfortable familiarity. In comparison to the quiet from before, the sounds from the kiss were too audible. It brought an irrational sense of embarrassment. They've done this before, so why...?

Akira knew exactly what he was going to do next. A hand slid up to the back of his head. A kiss on his cheek, then lower on his neck. Things were moving quickly, and his legs hit the edge of the bed. At some point, he'd ended up on his back, sliding against the sheets. When did he lose track of himself? It was only too easy. If they kept going, it was obvious what this would lead to.

He felt he hadn't had a reason to bring this up before.

"Gunji."

He broke the kiss, and Gunji pulled away for a moment. Akira hesitated. It was a strange question, but it was something he needed addressed.

He caught hold of the hands on his abdomen.

"...I'm...a guy."

And Gunji blinked.

"Yeah. Already figured." For all that had happened, he still had his crude humor.

That wasn't what he meant, and he knew the Executioner knew that. Gunji brought one of Akira's hands up and pressed his mouth to his wrist. After a brief moment, he opened his eyes, meeting Akira's gaze intently.

"And...so?"

Akira felt his own pulse rush through his body, only too conscious of every sensation.

"Cute~ ...I get the hint." Gunji let out a low laugh, releasing his grip. "I won't go any further."

"...?"

Just like that? Akira had felt the Executioner's fervor. And to curb that so easily...?

"We haven't done anything in a long time." Gunji explained, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I wouldn't want to stop. Ya aren't really in any condition to let me do ya."

Gunji took the space just beside him. In the small bed, the inescapable closeness only made Akira that much more conscious. That feeling again. Even though they hadn't gone too far, it felt as if it were impossible for the two of them to get more intimate that this. Yet it didn't escalate to anything more.

Gunji was staring at his face again, and it made Akira restless, even though he was tired.

"What?"

"Hm...? Nothin'. I just like lookin' at ya."

Akira knew he was also observing his wound. To reassure the Executioner, he lightly touched it with one hand.

"It's fine." He added. "I'm fine."

"Oh...? Then you'll let me...?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

Gunji laughed. "Okay then, Akira~"

"Just go to sleep." Akira shut his eyes, turning away from him. It was all he could do to ignore the unknown restless feeling in his mind.