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"I have a—stomachache," Tsukiyama laments, leaning halfway across the nurse's station. She almost spills her coffee and Nishiki can only shake his head. Haven't you ever been sick in your life?
"Okay, sir," says the woman, getting to her feet. "We'll have someone take your information straight away. You haven't eaten anything strange or—"
"No, no, nothing like that," Tsukiyama says as Kaneki and Touka sneak past the blue doors and into the emergency ward. "Just—really sudden pain."
"Sudden?" The woman's brow creases. Nishiki chews his lips. "Is it sharp?"
"Um—yes." Tsukiyama glances at Kanae, who stands next to him.
Kanae, you better intervene fast. The hell happened to your acting skills, Tsukiyama? If this is any indication of how Tsukiyama will be on opening night of Les Mis, Nishiki is so not here for this.
How's it going? Kimi texts.
I'm watching Tsukiyama's Razzie award winning performance at the emergency room, Nishiki responds.
"Does it come in waves or is it constant?"
"Waves?"
"And you've never had anything like it before?" The woman's voice dips into skepticism. God, save us.
"Non," Tsukiyama says. His knees buckle. Kanae cries out and catches him. That, at least, sounded legitimately terrified. Way to go, Kanae.
"Get him a chair!" orders the woman.
"Will I need a shot?" Tsukiyama whimpers.
"The doctors will have to see about that," ushers another nurse as she helps him into a wheelchair. She glances back at Kanae. "Who are you?"
"I'm his girlfriend," Kanae says.
Wait what? Nishiki gapes. Kanae looks over his shoulder and flushes when he sees Nishiki's expression. Why lie about that?
But Tsukiyama clings to Kanae's hand as if he's dying and doesn't contradict him. So maybe he has some common sense left.
Honestly, Kanae's pretending to be a girlfriend and he's doing a better job, he tells Kimi.
Nishiki, I don't know if you're dense or what, but Kanae is biologically female, Kimi types back. Maybe he is a girl.
That's it. Nishiki calls as the doctors take Tsukiyama and Kanae away. "What are you talking about?"
Kimi sighs. "I mean, have you ever paid attention to the way he dresses in gym? He's always wearing sweatshirts and pants. Also look at his face."
"I don't want to look at his face." Nishiki tightens his grip on the phone.
"For God's sake, Nishiki. If you look, Kanae's got delicate features." Kimi snorts. "I figured he was trans or something a couple months ago."
"But he called himself Tsukiyama's girlfriend."
"Maybe he's a girl. Or maybe he's nonbinary. Who knows?"
Nishiki shrugs. "Not like it matters." I like Kanae. He's just surprised. "How bad is it at the school?"
"Ui's trying not to melt down. I think he's locked us in the dorm tonight, fire safety code be damned. I can also hear him patrolling the stairwell every now and then. Furuta seems kinda amused."
The hospital doors keep sliding open and closed, and each time Nishiki's head swivels around to see if there's any sign of Kaneki or Touka. "Isn't Furuta thrilled at being promoted?"
"Yep. Mutsuki, Urie, and Shirazu are fine. Kurona, Yoriko, Saiko, and I are going to watch a movie even though Ui's ordered us to be in bed by midnight." Kimi laughs. "I don't think being a dorm parent was Ui's first choice of career."
"Hm." Nishiki collapses into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. The news blares in the corner, talking about several unsolved murders. Nishiki cringes. And then they switch to the upcoming weather. "How's everyone else?"
"Dorm Block 20's the newest scarlet letter. Yomo was glaring at us during biology—probably blames us for Touka and now Ayato—and Matsumae had us all running suicides in PE. Itori is pissed because of the play. Banjou showed up for awhile at the dorm; he's actually been quite nice and told me he hopes you're okay."
"I like him," Nishiki admits. "I hope he has nothing to do with Dr. Kanou."
"Me too," Kimi admits. "He said he and Nico were heading out tonight. Well, I heard him telling Ui that. I think he wants to look for you all."
Nishiki inhales through his teeth. A chill skitters down his spine. "Here's to hoping he isn't successful."
"I know." Kimi's quiet. "You will be back tomorrow, right?"
"We should be. Providing we get the right information." Nishiki wipes his palms on his jeans.
"Because if you're not back in a few days, they're talking about dividing us up among the other dorms." Kimi's voice catches. "I like our dorm. I like our floor—it's like having another family. And I never had sisters before."
Nishiki sighs. "The waiting must be killing you." It'd drive him batshit insane.
"It sucks," Kimi confirms. "How's Kaneki?"
"Anxious," Nishiki says. "Also blonde. Or ancient, as in white-haired. Long story. But mostly he's a wreck barely being held together."
"Well, he better hold it together."
"Seriously." Nishiki plants his feet on the ground and slouches over. "Kimi, I—"
"Nishiki Nishio?" asks a voice in front of him.
He freezes, eyes running up to see Nico. "Boo."
"Fuck!" Nishiki screams. A family with a five-year-old and a screaming toddler turn to glare at him. Nishiki's foot flies out to kick Nico in the stomach. The man groans. Nishiki leaps over the chairs, still clinging to his phone.
"What's that?" yelps Kimi.
"He's here!"
"Banjou?"
"The other one!" Nishiki spots the head nurse from the desk grabbing a security guard and pointing at him. You called, didn't you, you bitch?
"Shit!" Kimi yells in his ear.
Nishiki careens down the hallway, pushing open the blue doors to the emergency room. He passes a man with a bloodied nose and a doctor leaning over a patient behind half-closed curtains.
"Stop him!" bellows Nico's voice. "I'm calling the police!"
"Tsukiyama!" screams Nishiki, rounding a corner. "Kanae! Let's go, let's go, let's go!" This place had better not have a dead end!
"Are you still in the ER?" Kimi demands. "I'm pulling up a map of the area, and Saiko's getting a map of the hospital—I'll get you out of there, I promise, Nishiki!"
"Great!" He knocks over a tray of probably expensive instruments. Oops.
"Sorry, I'm better now!" Tsukiyama shouts, emerging from behind a curtain with Kanae in tow. Both of their faces transform into horror when they see the security team barreling at them like a tsunami.
"Call the other two!" Nishiki pants, overturning a chair.
Kanae slams open the emergency exit, and Nishiki follows him and Tsukiyama into a parking lot. "We're on the run!" Tsukiyama yells into the phone at Touka and Kaneki, wherever they are. "Get out of there! Meet us at the hotel!" He hangs up.
I've now assaulted a staff member, Nishiki realizes.
"Where are you?" Kimi hisses.
"Parking lot! Behind—"
"Take a left! You're gonna have to run along the road leading away from the hospital, okay? And then find the overpass over the freeway and go over it—it'll take you to a busy part of town. It looks like light traffic; you won't have to worry about being run over—"
"Anything! Just get us—" Nishiki's windpipe burns. He wheezes.
"Kurona's got Kaneki on the line," Kimi reports. "It looks like they're trapped—they're gonna have to hide out in an equipment closet, wait for a distraction or—"
Air tears at Nishiki's face as he scrambles out of the parking lot. "Go!" he shouts at Tsukiyama and Kanae, who fly across the street. Nishiki stumbles back, narrowly avoiding being flattened by a car. "That's too risky! We can't lose Kaneki!"
"They better get them out of there!" yells Tsukiyama.
Nishiki rips the phone away from his ear, turning it on speaker. A car blares its horn at them as they scramble up the hill towards the overpass. Brambles tears at his calves, his pants.
"You can't go back or you'll get caught! You need a—"
"Distraction," Kanae gasps. "Then they can escape!"
"What do you have in mind?" Tsukiyama wheezes. The security guards shout from the parking lot, pointing at them. Sirens sing in a ghostly chorus.
They'll call and get the police to go to the other side—we'll be trapped too—we're not going to be fast enough—the police cars will—why can't there be more traffic?
Kanae grabs Tsukiyama and plasters his lips against his. "Find Rize."
"No time!" Nishiki screeches.
"They're by a hospital; they'll have to help!" Kanae yells, and then he turns and races in the other direction, towards the edge of the overpass, and leaps off.
"Karren!" screams Tsukiyama.
Karren?
Tires squeal. Two police cruisers plow into each other to avoid hitting Kanae, who staggers to his feet and immediately collapses on his back, holding his ankle and writhing.
"Go!" Nishiki grabs Tsukiyama, dragging him away as he gapes over his shoulder.
"What happened?" yelps Kimi.
"Kanae jumped off the overpass," Nishiki grinds out as he and Tsukiyama make it across, rushing through the gathering crowd of people come to watch the crazy person who leaped off the overpass. Even if it's only about two stories high.
Tsukiyama's shaking, his face chalk white.
"Pull yourself together!" Nishiki hisses.
"My girlfriend just jumped off an overpass!"
"She's fine! He's fine!" Nishiki pulls him into an alleyway between a restaurant and a bookstore. "He has to be fine."
Kaneki and Touka, will you make it? He's pretty certain that Kanae's craziness and potential injuries will distract the security a little bit. Whether it will be enough—
"They made it," reports Kimi. "Saiko says Kaneki and Touka made it out another exit. They'll meet you at the hotel."
Nishiki exhales, leaning against the wall, his t-shirt catching on the bricks. Tsukiyama falls to his knees, clutching his skull. His breaths come sticky and desperate.
If that was Kimi… Nishiki puts his hand on Tsukiyama's shoulder. "She'll be okay."
"They're going to find out," Tsukiyama says, staring at an overflowing, reeking trash bin. "I don't know if that's what she wants."
"I don't know how they got away," Banjou says, staring at his cup of black coffee as if it's a void he'd liked to dive into. Koma holds his head in his hands, and Irimi slams dishes down on her counter.
Yomo stifles a groan. Really, Touka, Ayato? Touka had been making such good decisions this year—Ayato, too, made such strides—
I'm sorry, Hikari, he apologizes to his sister.
"Kanae's going to be okay, though?" asks Irimi, twisting a dishrag between her fists.
Banjou nods. "Just a broken ankle. Matsumae's on her way, as is Ui, so Hirako's temporarily in charge of Dorm Block 20." He glugs his coffee. "Poor kids."
"Huh?" Irimi's brow creases.
"They must be really desperate to go so far as jumping off an overpass to help their friends get away. And we all know Kaneki wasn't involved in that trafficking."
"I doubt any of them were," says Koma with a snort.
"To be fair," Yomo interjects. Should I say this? Oh well, he's going for it. "Kanae has always been a bit—extreme. I've seen him in class."
"True," Banjou says. "They're definitely caught up in something now, though, and in all likelihood it's probably bigger than they can handle." Tears fill his eyes. "I just wanted to help them, bring them back home."
Yomo's phone lights up. I heard, Uta's texted. Pretty crazy that they managed to escape.
"Why would they want to come back?" Irimi snaps.
Banjou gapes at her, almost as if he's offended.
"I know you had a good experience here," Irimi says, flicking the towel at him. "But this isn't home for most of them. They don't have a home."
The words burn inside of Yomo's head, sparking against his skull. "Touka does think of this—well, of you and Yoshimura—as her home."
Irimi's face crumples. "I just want her to be—safe. Her and Kaneki both."
"I don't know what else we can do," says Koma. "Besides wait."
"Have you heard from Yoshimura?" asks Banjou, leaning forward with his eyes shining. "He could issue a plea—maybe—the news is already finding it out, so why not run with that? If Touka and Kaneki heard it, they might understand that we want to help them, that we'll protect them."
"If we can," mutters Irimi. "I don't trust that snake in the principal's office. He'll run this place into the ground if we're lucky or light it on fire for laughs."
Yomo shrugs. Furuta's slithery for sure, and Uta's promised to try and figure out if he's involved at all. He gets to his feet. "I'm going out."
"Where?" asks Koma, resting his cheek against his fist.
"Out," Yomo repeats, and then he leaves. The cool morning air brushes his face, trees budding with the first signs of new leaves. The sky pales to a light indigo, and somewhere nearby he can hear Kureo Mado chastising a student caught drinking.
Mado's a mess right now. He still can't believe it about Akira and insisted on combing the entire campus for two hours before accepting the reality that his daughter and his protégé had, in fact, run away with known delinquents.
Yomo calls a taxi and climbs in. Uta texts again. Itori saw you leaving.
No tips, Yomo responds. I'm going to talk to him.
Uta doesn't reply, and Yomo spends the entire hour-long ride rehearsing what he'll say when he sees him. The problem is words come scrambled and he can never recite them perfectly. Why?
The driver pulls up at the apartment building. Yomo pays him and climbs out, rubbing the back of his head.
Last time Yomo saw him, Yomo told him Hikari's death was his fault, and he cried.
When Yomo heard that Touka and Ayato were in the streets, he felt a knife in his belly, accusing him, and he heard his own voice echoing back to him. It's your fault.
But Yoshimura found them. He scraped them off the street, and Yomo could breathe again, at least until Ayato starting acting like an edgelord.
He knocks on the door. Several splinters have chipped off, leaving the wood uneven and weak.
The door opens, and his brother-in-law gawps at him, rubbing his eyes. "Renji?"
"Arata." Yomo bounces up and down from his heels to his toes. "Can I come in?"
"Of course." Arata stumbles back. The living area's small enough that Yomo can cross it in three paces, with a small teal loveseat and what looks like a tiny beige rug, although it could also be a bathmat. A coffee table made of old wood sits cluttered with mugs, and three photos hang on the wall across from the loveseat: Arata and Hikari at their wedding, which was really just a trip to a judge, a picture of Touka at eight holding up a worm while Ayato cringed, and a picture of the four of them, a family, Touka folded in Arata's arms and Ayato half-asleep in Hikari's.
"Thought you hated bugs," Yomo comments.
"I do. She loved them," Arata says, heading towards the kitchen area, which is about the size of a closet. "Tea?"
"Sure." A door opens to a bedroom just large enough for a bed. "What do you do these days?"
"I—" Arata inhales. "I work as a dishwasher in a restaurant. Nothing illegal. I promise."
"I believe you." Yomo brushes his hair back. It's been two years since Arata was released from prison.
"I don't know if we should tell them," Yoshimura said one night. "He's facing up to twenty years."
Good behavior helped Arata out, as did a merciful judge.
"They said they would protect my family," Arata cried. "I can't lose Touka—or Ayato."
And you couldn't turn to me because I turned on you, Yomo realized.
"Well, by working with this gang, you lost them," the judge said, but showed mercy anyways.
"They think I abandoned them?" Arata gasped.
"You haven't written to them," Yomo pointed out. "You did abandon them." If only because you didn't know what to say.
The judge barred him from seeing his kids when he was released.
"Sit down," Arata invites, hanging over a cup of tea. Yomo obeys. "How are—how are they?"
"They've both run away," Yomo states.
Arata's face dissolves into terror. He sets the tea down and clutches his face.
"Touka ran away over a week ago to help her boyfriend, and Ayato left last night with a whole group of students."
"Her boyfriend?" Arata cries. "Is he—"
"His name's Ken, Ken Kaneki, and he's—he reminds me of you," Yomo says. The tea's too hot. It scalds his lips. "In good ways." He sets the teacup down with a clatter. It wasn't your fault. Hikari wasn't, at least.
I'm sorry.
"But they're—"
Yomo launches into an explanation of the accusations against Arima, Ayato's screw-ups earlier in the year—he leaves out Uta walking in on him and Hinami—and finally, Touka and Ayato running away. "I think they want to help prove his innocence."
"They could be—that's dangerous!" Arata glares at Yomo. "Far more dangerous than—I trusted you to keep them safe!"
"And I fucked up!" Yomo shouts back, throwing his hands in the air. Shame beats at him with ghostly fists. He can imagine Hikari screaming at him. "Find my babies!" "We have to find them before it's too late."
Before they wind up as victims.
Before they wind up doing something they can't come back from.
Arata glowers at him, fury embedded in his eyes. "Why are you here?"
"Because I want your help," Yomo says. "You know people. I'm not asking that you get back involved with that world. You can give me the names."
"I never trafficked a human being in my life."
"But you might know people who did," Yomo insists. "If there's even a chance—I love them too, Arata. Touka's really grown up this year—she's less prone to fighting and her grades have improved. Ayato was really struggling, but he's been making great strides too—they're both involved in this play, they have good friends, they can have a future that's different. But they won't if we don't find them, and fast."
"I'd do anything to save them," Arata tells him, voice scraped and raw. "Anything."
"Good," says Yomo. And this time, I won't be so caught up with my life that I let you go too far.
Uncle Yomo to the rescue.