"Ah…" There wasn't much waiting for Yukiteru at the house that held the bodies of Minene and Celty. Looked as though someone had stopped by and bled everywhere. Oh, and they'd picked up Celty's helmet and set it nicely on her stomach. Other than that, the only movement was the wafting mist of darkness filling the place. With how smoke-like it was, Yukki was surprised anyone could breathe.
Standing in the doorway, he became distinctly aware of the setting sun. Before long, it would be dark. He wondered whether it was Izaya that had stopped by. Then he wondered where Izaya was, right then. He wondered whether he was alright. He wondered if A-ya was alright.
The grip Yukiteru had on his cellphone tightened. A-ya…
He opened his cellphone again to see if that person had texted him, but there was nothing new. Frowning, he entered the shadowy air and stood inside the house, opening up the previous messages and reading through them again. "But… how do I know it's real…?" His lips thinned. He thought deeply. "…Muse," he uttered, scrolling through one message or another. "…And Rodd… Aureus, and Durden… Rainbow and Greyson… Seraph, huh…?" He closed the phone with a sigh.
"That makes seven. But there are eight that make it, huh? Why's that, I wonder? Who'll it be? A timekeeper, a symbol of symbolism… Bonds of the heart, and something like 'depth.' And then…" He paused. Bowed his head. Thought about what Izaya had to say to him. What A-ya had last said to him. What the messages said. And of the fact that Shinichi was dead because of him.
"…I… didn't mean to kill him, though," he said softly, not that anyone would acknowledge his voice. "So would it really be okay… to go to them…? If I were to apologize, would that… really be enough? But—A-ya…" He bit his lip. "I want to be with A-ya, more than that… Yet… Izaya-san… had a point, didn't he? What's best for A-ya, after all?"
He crouched there in the falling night, Celty's shadows cloaking him thickly like his own cloak did. "Hey… Minene… Celty, what should I do?" When only silence answered him, he buried his face in his knees. If I really were to care about A-ya, then I'd help him somehow, right…? How do I do that? He's not so far gone that I'd have to—kill him, right? Surely not. Killing, surely, isn't what the answer is… right? If this game is fake?
I'm so sorry… Shinichi.
He didn't notice the moon beginning to rise outside, or the passage of time that transpired. He'd been so certain of what he was doing, not too long ago. Izaya had shaken him from that, so now what was he supposed to do? "I don't… know what I want anymore," he murmured, and felt himself trembling. He imagined Minene telling him to quit crying and take some fucking responsibility for once, because really he was nothing but a wimp, and that hadn't changed at all, had it? This time, his eyes remained dry. How do I take responsibility for this, anyway? What do I do? What am I supposed to do?
The sound of his phone jolted him back to the room he was in, swathed in black. It was darker than black in here. Yukki had never experienced this darkness. It was like fog, and when he tried to look at his screen, it was obscured by it. Flipping open the phone, he brought it closer to his face to see. Oddly, he felt cold.
"…Rodd, is…?" Yukiteru stared at the warning on the screen with wide blue eyes. "He's…?" Looking up, all he could see was more black. Sticking his phone in his cloak, he cautiously stood. His machine gun was at his side. He had the wall at his back. A sound permeated the stillness, and at first, Yukiteru thought it was footsteps. After a moment's listen, however, he came to realize that it was the sound of a ticking clock that he heard.
He thought to be frightened, then stopped. He was done with that. And so with a wave of his hand, he dispelled the shadows filling the house and cleared them to dissipate outside in the night. Moonlight cast silver onto the one facing Yukiteru, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Rodd smiled at him just slightly, and Yukki widened his stance. He had the same look to him, his dark skin lighter under the moon, somehow. He still wore the same green-and-white baseball cap.
"What do you want from me, Rodd?" he asked coolly. "Because I don't want what you have to give me."
"Who says you have a choice?" Rodd answered easily, staring blankly at him, his wide eyes glowing softly violet. "I'm on a mission."
"To do what? Fast forward me again?" He ran a hand through his hair, putting up a confident front. He wore a smirk on his mouth. "Don't you think this is cheating, Game Master Rodd? Just going and only sending me forward?"
"The only transitions you will go through," said Rodd, "are psychological. It would be more of a matter of rules if it were that you would transition to a different physical state. For example," – he adjusted his glasses, and they reflected the moonlight – "…Seidou Takizawa was turned into a half-ghoul when he was thrust forward. He had a completely different set of physical capabilities. Touka Kirishima, over the period of time that she traversed, grew physically stronger and far more controlling of her abilities. You won't have any new set of abilities; I won't send you that far. I've told you – I'm good at what I do."
"If that's it, then why even bother?" Yukki sniffed, and Rodd blinked at him. With such a deadpan reaction, he thought nervously, it's hard to keep up an act…
"I think that if you were to think on it, you could figure it out." Rodd shrugged, bowing his head just enough that his baseball cap shrouded his eyes. "You were going in one direction, but where are you going now?"
Yukiteru didn't answer, only narrowing his eyes. He swallowed.
"I know, you've come so far, and here I am about to turn it all around on you. I guess I should apologize in advance, because this time's gonna be a real kicker." Rodd smiled, just slightly. It was frightening.
And he was right. Yukiteru understood. He wants to make me into an antagonist, he thought. Then he thought, Is time really my enemy in such a way? "I won't do what you want me to," he said, but his voice didn't sound strong enough to his own ears.
"You couldn't have ever imagined having friends like Akise, Hinata, and Mao, either, right? Didn't you tell me something along the lines of, 'I'd never kill A-ya'? And yet… what was it you told Izaya, just earlier today? Didn't you insist that you could kill A-ya if you had to? Really…" He paused. "You couldn't know what the future holds." He lifted his pocket watch from his hoodie pocket. "But I do, Yukiteru." He began to step towards him. Yukiteru looked away from him just a moment to evaluate what he had at his disposal. What would happen if he tried to shoot him? Somehow he felt like that would be a bad idea—
When he looked back to Rodd, he was directly in front of him. Yukki tried to back up, but he was already against a wall. Oh no.
"Was there anything in particular you wanted to say, first?" said Rodd. "That's a dramatic touch, isn't it?"
Yukiteru shook his head. "All I want is to be happy alongside A-ya. Is that so wrong? Are you really gonna keep messing this all up? Why?"
Rodd tilted his head. "Who said I was going to take away that possibility? Truly, you could become 'happy alongside A-ya,' I'm sure. That's right."
"But I want—" he began to protest, but he was already swept off of his feet and into the future, the sky painted a beautiful blue.
Wasn't it wonderful? To have a group of friends that you cared for, and they cared in return? And even her, Yuno, that crazy stalker of a girl that still managed to love him, yeah, and they, too, could see the stars together, couldn't they? Wasn't that alright? But they didn't—
Yukiteru found himself waking confused, disoriented and tied to a dirty chair in a bare room, feeling bare himself in only his underclothes. And she was there, Yuno, smiling sweetly with a face that said that all of this was fine, it was alright to be this way even though it wasn't, this wasn't okay at all and he tried to protest, he did, but nothing could break him free and she wouldn't let him go and as days passed and then weeks and no one, nobody came to find him, what was there to do?
He discovered what it felt like to turn off. Shut down. Shut down. How long had that gone on? How long was he trapped there? Was this what she thought 'love' was?
It was his friends who woke him up – they came at last, after all that time, and they left all together and he finally, finally had the nerve to reject the one that so tormented him, but at what cost? Would it end here? Was that what he was tasked with experiencing?
But it kept going, and he followed the same cycle. How was it that he always returned to her, and she to him? He had no choice! He tried to get out of it, he did – his friends were his team now, yeah – this was what Minene meant! As allies, they trained together, worked together, and she'd smile at him and encourage him in that disgruntled, roundabout way of hers… And his father, Yukki got to see his father again! Oh, so long since he'd seen his dad, and—
An ambulance gurney, flashing red lights, a bloodstained knife—no, no… Yukiteru, with trepidation running through him, attended his mother's funeral. How had it come to this? What do you mean, Dad killed Mom? Make it stop; make it…!
It couldn't get any worse, could it? Couldn't it? Dad, on his knees. Dad, collapsing dead on the ground with red all around his chest. Yukki felt the feeling of despair that sunk him, and the succeeding rage that prevailed. It was not fiery, but made of ice. Things sped up in clean-cut precision, visions too bright and too clear. And then, and then…
When Yukiteru returned to his senses, he was not trembling anymore. His face was wet, he must have cried sometime in the confusion. Rodd was gone. Yukiteru felt hollowed out and pleasantly cool. The night's temperature was kind. The moonlight shone just the same; he figured that next to no time had passed.
Outside of his perception, Rodd closed his eyes. His work was done for now. He'd picked out someone else's perception of time to be in – Kaneki's, because right now his world turned so slowly. Yukiteru wouldn't see him anymore.
He was jerked to the side, suddenly, and his eyes flashed open just in time to see Seraph's hand coming down and striking his face like lightning. Blinking, he brought a hand slowly to his cheek, looking at her in bemusement. Yes, he wasn't mistaken – there she was, Seraph, her violet hair so dark in the night, and her hands clenched at her sides, stance wide. Her thin shoulders were bunched in outrage, her teeth gritted.
"Why slap me now?" Rodd asked mildly. The scene around them had slowed. Yukiteru was still regaining a sense of things, leaning against the wall at the other side of the room. He wouldn't be able to see either of them; neither Rodd nor Seraph.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, voice cracking at the last word. "Don't touch Yukiteru. Don't touch him."
"I didn't touch him." He shrugged, and she shook her head.
"Doing this for Muse? You think she'll like you more if you listen to her every command? Huh?"
"Finally coming out of that hatch? Actually doing something?" Rodd adjusted his glasses, unconcerned. "I didn't really expect you to do much after Roppi died. He was the one you chose to approach, after all."
Her eyes narrowed.
"If you try to make things messy," he added with a slight smile, "I could break your legs again. I wonder if you remember that."
Seraph froze. She did not.
"You talk about Muse like you know them. Somehow, I feel like you've gotten them confused with someone else," he said coolly. "You're depth, aren't you? Surely you can help Yukiteru along, right?" Casually, Rodd brushed past her, heading for the door.
"But—"
He stopped walking. He was still smiling.
"…He might not… make the right choice," she said.
"…Ah…," said the player in the room.
They both looked over to Yukiteru, who had stirred at last from his thoughts. "So, my parents are dead, too," he said quietly, thoughtfully. He felt dimly, like his connections had been frayed. "And after that, I…" He trailed off.
Smiling lopsidedly at Seraph, Rodd gave a half-wave and began to leave. "Seraph, you and I don't have free will. Might as well enjoy what you're doing rather than reject it and grow to hate your existence. Don't tell me you've forgotten." And he left, leaving her alone with Yukiteru, who could not even begin to perceive her transparent self.
Slowly, the cohesion of Yukiteru's thoughts came together properly, and the situation he was in became clear. Yuno wasn't in the picture anymore. Minene and Celty were dead around him. Yato, a traitor, was who killed them both. Rika had left, Shinichi was dead. Izaya, whom he had met in passing, had nonchalantly helped him out before heading on his way to Kaneki's group. And A-ya, he was… he was…
Yukki realized his phone was flashing. He hadn't noticed, but he had a new message. He must not have heard the ring. He opened this.
[Are you alright?] it said.
Yukiteru merely closed the phone and stuck it in his cloak. Then he grabbed the machine gun and started for the door. Seraph watched him go.
Rainbow leaned in close to their screen, voice lowered into a hopeful whisper: "Go to him, my child. Go to A-ya."
"I, uh, don't think Yukiteru's on his way towards A-ya," said Greyson, scratching at their arm and quirking a silver eyebrow. "…To be honest."
"But he needs to," Rainbow insisted.
"Then get your ass out there and drag him."
"That sounds like a lot of work."
"Yeah, well," Greyson laughed with a note of exasperation, "it won't happen, otherwise, Rain!"
Rainbow was quiet, clutching tightly at their laptop. What a nice room they'd been given. How large, how pretty. All of which they could call their own. "Maybe we should…"
"Um," said Greyson, tapping at their watch. "I think it might be time to, uh, feed your new pet. We didn't give 'im dinner."
"My new pet," Rainbow scoffed. "Hah!" Setting their laptop to the side, they got up off of their couch, which Greyson was sitting leisurely upon at the other end. "No, not a pet."
"I wouldn't mind calling him that," shrugged Grey.
"Yeah, well—anyway." They pulled a plastic cup from a cupboard and put water in it from the sink. They then shoved it into their very own microwave. "He's getting ramen."
"Sounds good to me. It's food."
"I'm giving him our last one, so he'd better like it…"
"Oh, he will… Besides, we won't run outta food or anything."
"Yeah, yeah."
A quiet settled over the both of them.
"I might go out," said Rainbow eventually, and the microwave beeped at them. Greyson blinked in surprise. "But would you come with me?"
"Now? At night?"
"Tomorrow."
"…Go on and feed him."
"Grey."
"Maybe," said Greyson. "Sure. We'll do that."
"Okay," said Rainbow, relieved, and left the room to give the captive their dinner.
He could feel it. His existence, thrumming in and out. Seidou couldn't tell whether he was yet transparent, or if he was solid after all. All he could conjecture was that his bones, like a steel frame, were holding him up, holding him together and assuring him of his reality.
He and Shintaro sat in silence. They'd taken up residence in one of the houses along the dirt road and the harrowed one had at least been somewhat helpful, reciting what had happened to Light Yagami when he was harrowed, and how he went through different phases in the same way. "The 'worst' of someone is rather subjective, and depending on the situation, it can shift," he'd said. As an afterthought, he added, "Light didn't make it. That might be my bad."
At which Seidou sighed heavily and ran a hand through his white locks. From there, there hadn't been much to say, and now they sat with the sun setting and the moon rising, neither mobile nor talkative. What was there to do? What was there to say?
A cannibalistic maniac named Seidou Takizawa, who had once been leader of Group 2, had kidnapped Shintaro Kisaragi, a former teammate. Seidou didn't care for anyone else's well-being, of course, and now Shintaro was harrowed by a god-forsaken blade that drew out the worst in that dastardly shut-in. Apparently the only thing that could purify him was bonds of the heart, or something cheesy like that.
To put it simply, the situation that they were both in sucked. Shintaro was screwed, and Seidou…
The half-ghoul, who had been perched casually, immobile, on one of the dining room chairs while staring to his bored-looking hostage, lowered his head to his knees, jaw tightening. Shintaro hadn't moved from his position, his elbows on his knees and his head bowed low. Seidou heard him utter an offhanded, "Maybe they really won't come looking after all. Ha, ha…"
Seidou dimly remembered how it felt for a voice to tell him, "Takizawa, you understand, don't you? No one will come to save you. There's no point screaming. No one hears you. No one cares." Ah, so smoothly that doctor spoke. So painfully believable.
Ah, and he sure was a dick.
But anyway.
Slowly, he peered over his knees with his one good eye. Oh, that was right, wasn't it? Shintaro had stabbed him in his ghoul eye. His senses continued their cycle. There was someone in a red jersey sitting over there, a nuisance that was his hostage. His face was blurry, he didn't mean anything anymore. Seidou couldn't afford for him to. Indeed, Seidou couldn't even feel himself.
Then it would be vivid, and it would be Shintaro over there, looking at the ground with eyes so profoundly lost. And Seidou, he was distinctly aware of his own body, his frame and from where he bled and how much it didn't hurt…
Seidou's pale, thin fingers clutched tighter at his cloak as he raised his head. He could see that other him, again, fading in and out like he was. The Seidou of the past, the picture of fatigue, he sat there next to Shintaro in the same position, with his elbows on his knees. The difference was that the apparition looked at the harrowed one with eyes that Seidou knew would be filled with concern. His shoulders collapsed as he slumped.
"What can I do?" the apparition asked nobody.
There's nothing I can do, thought Seidou.
"Even if I tried, it would amount to nothing, wouldn't it?"
You're dead, anyway. Seidou closed his eye, perhaps in shame. And me, well…
When he peeked at Shintaro again, the apparition of himself was looking at him. He felt a tremor through him at those brown eyes he once recognized in a mirror as his own. "None of it matters. Really, nothing's changed at all, has it…?"
What's that, he thought, because even now…
"I'm just not enough," they said, and Shintaro looked over to Seidou with that deadened face of his. Seidou did not look at him, his hair shrouding his gaze as he stood up.
"…What was that?" asked Shintaro, and Seidou didn't answer. "I didn't hear you," he frowned. "I might be going deaf from all your screeching."
Seidou picked up the machine gun, subdued. Turning the knob, he swung the front door outward. It was dark outside, now.
"Are we heading out?" Shintaro tried again, dull, only to be wordlessly scooped up in Seidou's arms. "Oi—where are we going, can you at least say that?"
"I'm taking you back." Seidou's voice rang hollow.
"Back? To what, Kaneki's group? I thought you wanted to avoid them like the plague?"
"Don't you go gettin' the wrong idea…" Seidou frowned deeply, and Shintaro felt his arms tensing beneath him. "It's not like I wanna go back to them all. I hate 'em. You know that."
"Right, of course," Shintaro answered flatly. Seidou was already walking out the door with him in his arms.
"I ain't doin' this for you, either, you brat," he added.
"Okay."
"But I already know…" Seidou closed his eye. "That I'm not the person you should be with right now. That group…" He paused. "It has that stupid android in it, doesn't it? You're close to him, right? And even if that doesn't work, then surely, Kaneki might…? Or even—Shirou Emiya, I don't know… I—already fucked up with Roppi, so—at the very least…"
"…I don't want to be around other people," Shintaro said lowly. "I don't want to be around anyone at all."
Seidou stopped walking so briskly just to look down and glower at him. "Little shit."
Shintaro's grey gaze was unwavering. "At least I'm honest."
"I'm taking you there," Seidou said firmly.
"Why?"
"It doesn't MATTER, does it? Just that it happens—because—because…!" Beginning to fester, he pushed off of the ground and jumped to a rooftop, speeding up the pace and beginning to run. "Whatever happened to Shirazu?" he uttered, and Shintaro blinked slowly. Seidou did not want to think of the orange-haired fellow in two different lights – tasty snack versus teammate of circumstance. He didn't want to think of the fact that it was him who put his hand on Seidou's back that night before the big fight in this game; the one who told him that maybe, just maybe, he should have a talk with Shintaro because it was the right thing to do. He didn't want to hear his voice anymore, because then he'd have to remember that Shirazu was one of the many that hadn't made it.
"Mado… Akira—is already, dead." His words were broken. He didn't want to think of her face in association with the word 'gentle.' He didn't want to think of the color of her eyes, or how they ran with the rain. He didn't want to think about how after everything she had really, truly tried to save him, only to die, right there in his arms.
"I—Roppi, is also…" He couldn't even remember much of the things he tried to say. Where had his words gone? Were they for nothing? Why had he died? For what? Seidou couldn't even remember having ended him. He only knew it was fact, and for that, oh, what had he done?
Shintaro could not make out Seidou's face, but he could see the liquid running down his cheeks, tainted red. The harrowed one did not wish to think on these people either. Shintaro could not think of Shirazu and him finding connections through their silences, so soon before the orange one had died. He could not think of the way he'd come to the realization that Akira was just like him, but so much more admirable. He could not think of Roppi, period, but in fleeting images of bitterness. It was blockaded from his prefrontal cortex. His memories were filled with static.
Furthermore, he could not look into the face of Seidou. He did not want to. The idea brought a tightness to his chest that threatened to asphyxiate him.
"I'm not made… to be a hero," said Seidou. "You were wrong… to ever think so."
Shintaro felt something pierce him, like a blade, perhaps? Or a branding iron to his torso, reaching inside of him and marking him with regret.
"I can't even take responsibility for my own shit," said the half-ghoul that held him. "And that's what's gotten you here. Hurting or not, you were becoming a new person. To change you back to something like this, that's murder. It's—different than… than those other people… whose faces, I can't even recall. I can't—even tell you… what my mother looked like, anymore. And that's why…"
Shintaro closed his eyes. He didn't want to look. His veins were buzzing with something hot. He became aware of the air beneath him, and gripped onto Seidou's cloak. "…Oi…"
"I'm taking you back, damn it!" Seidou snapped. "This is RIDICULOUS, and if you seriously protest after all that, I'LL FUCKING SLAP YOU."
"No…"
"I don't give a shit what you say… Let me just do this one thing."
"No, that's not it, though," Shintaro tried again.
"What?" he asked bitterly. "What is it?"
"I'm trying to tell you—to quit crying."
"What? I'm, not—"
"Y-you'll make me cry, too."
Seidou halted in his tracks, and Shintaro choked out an eh— at the sudden stop. The half-ghoul looked down at him, and Shintaro stared back up at him with wide, frantic eyes. "…Uh," said the shut-in. He shuddered, then tried to smile. "I-it's okay, Seidou. I still believe in you."
"What the fuck," said Seidou. He squinted at him with his single eye. "You can't be serious…"
"About… what now?" Shintaro paused. Seidou continued peering at him, daring to wonder what was going through his head. "…Oh my god."
"What is it." Seidou spoke quickly and shortly.
"Oh my god, I—I stabbed you in the eye!" He began to squirm. "Ohhh, that's so bad, oh jeez, did I really do that? W-wait—whoa—" He clutched tighter to his captor, suddenly panicked. "W-wait a minute, we're pretty high up, aren't we? When did we—how long have I—ohhhh nooo…!"
"You're an asshole."
"Huh?" Shintaro looked nervously at Seidou, but the half-ghoul's brow was furrowed deeply, a pained smile touching his mouth. The red-jerseyed one was scrambled in thought, disoriented and shaken. He was worried to find that his memories since being taken away were blurred and patchy. That never happened to him.
But seeing Seidou smile again like that for the first time, it really looked like it was still the Seidou he knew. And so he smiled weakly in return, mumbling something like, "Thank you."
"For what?" sniffed Seidou, looking away with a visage now of stubborn irritation. "I didn't do anything. I—was just sick of how you were acting. I wasn't worried."
"…Was I that bad?" asked Shintaro blankly.
"Oh, for fuck's sake…," he said, and – much to Shintaro's nervous disapproval – began to move forward once again.
