Inversion

by Halfpenny

Akihiko was fairly sure he wrote the manual on how to deal with things poorly. (Trigger warnings inside; multiple ships sailing.) IN-PROGRESS

12. Sacred Chickens, Part 2

Trigger warnings for disordered eating, self-harm, and violence. Thanks for your participation here and on AO3 - your reviews mean everything to me!

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"Unusual to see you here this early," Officer Kurosawa said. "Winds drive you in?"

"Just a tight schedule." There was something gleaming at the bottom of the box. Akihiko carefully maneuvered past what looked like a combat fan and a set of darts with dark fletching. "I didn't think I'd be able to make it out here this afternoon with the storm."

"Thinking about evacuating the low-slung districts to the south. They're predicting a storm surge."

"Shit, really?"

"Got anyone down there?"

"Not anymore." The knuckles looked like they were carved from ice. Akihiko extricated them and ran careful but expert fingertips over the lethal crests, trying to reach out with Polydeuces to see if they were compatible. He got a faint sensation of storm and height before he was reaching for his wallet to thumb out the bills. "Anything we can do to help?"

"We'll take care of it. If your scouter picks up any trapped stragglers though, I'd appreciate either pulling 'em out or letting me know."

"Will do." The knuckles skinned a sliver off him as he slid them into the usual drawstring bag. Akihiko whistled in appreciative pain. "This doesn't seem like the other designs. These aren't still from Yasoinaba, are they?"

"Got an old friend out in Shibuya who got scared straight from the Yakuza a couple years ago. Long as he's keeping his nose clean for his kid, I don't ask where he gets his stock."

"Shibuya, huh." Akihiko pocketed the change and zipped the drawstring bag into his school bag. "I should visit sometime. I hear they got good cafes out there."

---

.

He poked his head into the clinic. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, the commander returns!" Edogawa's back was to the door as he rummaged through his desk. He waved a vague hand of welcome over his head. "I was afraid you had been lost at sea. Come in, come in. And flip my exam sign if you would."

"For me?"

"Unless you would rather lock the door."

Akihiko shrugged and did both. "I have class in a few minutes," he did warn, wary, sliding his bag off his shoulder gingerly. "Did my coach send me in for another weigh-in? I thought he said he was fine with me switching weight categories now that our competitive season's almost over."

"Your coach and your advisor are both aware you're here, but no, I'm the one who sent for you." Edogawa did look up from his work briefly, but it was at the wall clock. "Give me just a moment to finish mixing this. Make yourself comfortable. There's tea on the hotplate."

Akihiko kicked his shoes off as a matter of course, figuring he'd be asked to do it soon enough anyway. Edogawa's tea was a guiltless pleasure, low on calories and high on nutrients; after selecting a mug from the overhead cupboard and pouring himself a modest amount, Akihiko blew over the surface of it as he made his way over to the clinic bed by Edogawa's desk, feeling the heat blissfully prickle his frigid hands. "That should do it," Edogawa murmured, pen audibly working a moment more before he appeared satisfied with whatever he was recording. He held the bottled mixture up to the light, gave it a last experimental waggle, then kicked his rolling chair over to the miniature refrigerator to set it on the top shelf. "Now then." He clapped his hands together and faced Akihiko for the first time. "Let's toss the seeds before we catch the chickens. I hear I missed you yesterday."

"It's okay. I would've tracked you down if it were important."

"Your teacher filed an incident report down to me that said you fainted in class."

"I just tripped." Akihiko tried the tea and aborted when it nearly scorched a hole through the fabric of time. He set it aside on the bedside stand to cool as Edogawa wheeled over to collect his medical instruments from his standing tray. "Fujita-sensei overreacted. I felt fine."

"Is that the result?"

Akihiko took a moment to realize Edogawa's pen was gesturing towards the bandage over his temple. "Oh, no, that's still old news."

"Ah, that's right. Still bashful about the scar, I take it?"

"Not so much bashful as much as I get tired explaining it to people." That and no explanation tended to satisfy. I got it scrounging through the charred rubble of my orphanage searching for my dead sister's stuffed rabbit was technically accurate but also direct enough to qualify as blunt force assault. "Seriously, I knocked my elbow up a little, but nothing worse than what I do to myself at boxing. You didn't really put it in my file, did you?"

Edogawa squinted at his chart. "Oh, come on," Akihiko said. "Really?"

"Where would you suggest I have put it?"

"In the trash!"

"As accurate a commentary that would be on the state of my filing system, that seems like egregiously poor management even by my standards," Edogawa said. "Vest off, please."

Akihiko endured the usual collection of vitals, nearly vibrating with impatience when Edogawa shushed his protests to gauge his blood pressure. "Seriously, I've got French in four minutes," Akihiko hedged as Edogawa removed the cuff. "Couldn't this have waited?"

"Let's see your elbow."

Akihiko reluctantly rolled up his other sleeve. Edogawa took his time peeling off the old bandages, expertly probing around the inflamed joint until Akihiko let out an involuntary hiss at the handling. "Ooch," was all Edogawa said, mild as he fetched a basin to clean off the vestiges of dried blood.

Restless as he was, Akihiko had to admit that it felt a lot better by the time Edogawa had applied the layer of ointment and re-wrapped the injury in clean gauze. "Thanks," he said grudgingly, flexing to test the range of motion. His elbow felt unnaturally warm but no longer jammed with shrapnel. "This'll make practice easier."

"You must have fallen pretty hard to earn that deep a bruise," Edogawa said, replacing his supplies. "Normally people try to catch themselves with their hands."

"There were desks in the way and it happened pretty quick. I didn't have time to sort myself out."

"Was that your only injury? Fujita-sensei seemed worried you had hit your head."

"It was just my elbow."

"He said you were disoriented and took a couple of minutes to find your feet."

"I didn't—" Akihiko quickly chewed off the end of his rebuttal, knowing antagonism would only bounce off Edogawa's broadside. "Look, you can check my head or my eyes or whatever if you don't believe me. It's just not as big a deal as everyone's making it out to be."

Edogawa was silent a moment. When he spoke it was gently enough to make Akihiko's ears heat. "I don't doubt your honesty, Sanada-kun. Just disagree a bit on what constitutes an acceptable level of trauma to you."

The clinic was frigid. Ashamed, Akihiko curled his hands around the edge of the bed and sat there in miserable silence. "May I check?" Edogawa asked.

He nodded.

Edogawa made it quick. He flicked his light between both eyes, probed Akihiko's head gently with his thumbs, and tested the range of motion in his neck. When the examination was over, Akihiko fumbled to get his vest back on, dragging on his sleeves until they were back down around his wrists. The kettle on the hotplate was sending a gentle ribbon of steam to fog over the window to the courtyard. Outside the warmly-lit room, Iwatodai churned in fulminating greys.

He rescued his tea from the stand by the bed and hid behind it for a while, gripping it between both palms, reintroducing the heat the clinic had sapped from him.

In his peripherals he saw Edogawa massage the back of his neck for a while. He pushed himself back over to his desk

Painfully aware Edogawa was giving him space to compose himself, Akihiko kept himself insulated, trying to regain his composure. Edogawa took his time. He replaced some of the standing items on his desk in the various drawers that housed them then fished a pen back out of the holder to scribble some notes. Akihiko's medical folder sat on the edge of the counter. When Edogawa was finished notating whatever needed notation, he wheeled back, sweeping up the folder up in transit.

Akihiko said into the silence, barely audible to his own ears, "I'm not going to French, am I."

"No," Edogawa said quietly, not unkindly. "I need your attention here for a bit. Ashida-sensei and Fujita-sensei already signed off of it. They won't expect you back in class until later this morning."

"I don't understand. Is this really because of what happened in class? Why am I here?"

"Well, that's a bit of a layered cake." Edogawa took off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes for a while, then turned his attention to cleaning his glasses off with a pinch of his lab coat. "To be honest with you, I was already considering bringing you in myself, but then I got a request from overhead in light of Fujita's incident report, and, well… needless to say I felt it needed to be expedited a bit."

"A request from overhead?"

Edogawa said nothing.

The realization plunged his body into ice water. Akihiko stared at him, slotting it together. "Mitsuru," he murmured dumbly. "It was Mitsuru, wasn't it."

"Yes."

The enormity of the betrayal nauseated him. She knew the whole time. He'd been lulled into complacency by her avoidance of him. As fast as the school's gossip mill turned, how had he ever thought it wouldn't get back around to her? She'd likely requested his records that day and had negotiated the timing of this with his teachers before coming home. The only reason she hadn't confronted him was to lower his guard enough to get him to walk into this slaughter willingly.

Breathless with hurt, Akihiko gripped onto the tea mug and tried not to throw up. He didn't realize Edogawa was talking to him until Edogawa rapped his knee with his pen. "Try not to be angry with her," Edogawa said again. "As I said, I'd been planning to pull you in here for a while anyway. This just expedited the process a bit."

"I don't…" Get it together. His fingertips felt numb with shock. He had to shake this off and roll with it. "Look, I know what this looks like, all right? It's not like that."

"Interesting," Edogawa said. "I'll bite. What is 'this'? What do you think I'm seeing?"

"I've just been in over my head lately with club stuff. I haven't been sleeping a lot and I haven't had time to do some of the things I used to do. I know what happened in class looked bad, but it was a one-time thing. I just stood too fast. I don't know why everyone's getting on my case."

"Do you think your coach and your advisor share that opinion?"

"I don't know. No one's talked to me. They just all assume they know what's going on."

"Fair enough." Edogawa withdrew briskly. "You're right. Let's do a process of elimination then, shall we? Should science fail, sometimes gaps in cognition can be bridged metaphysically."

He was too crusty a veteran of Edogawa's mood swings to let his guard down, but did warily settle himself a bit more fully on the bed to prepare for the shift in tone. "You always say metaphysical conclusions are too abstruse for testimony."

"Fortunately we're in a clinic, not a court room, and I'm bookmarking your vocabulary for later discussion, by the way," Edogawa said. "Let's hypothesize. Run with me here a bit. You have lungs to breathe, which is a good first step. We know you're alive. Your eye color is normal, which indicates a lack of demonic presence, and we've established that your organs haven't been harvested by a vengeful entity, which is always my first concern."

"You think I'm acting out of the ordinary because I'm missing organs?"

"Are you so sure you're not? Sometimes demonic harvest can be subtle. It's not always as overt as blood or souls. Some theft can be quieter. Thoughts, good fortune, even memories. Have you found yourself with inexplicable headaches – dry throat, chills in a warm room?"

"Maybe," Akihiko admitted, but said, "that doesn't mean a demon has been stealing life essences from me."

"Don't be so sure. Water historically tends to be a fixation with spirits, especially in Japan. Quite possibly you've been a feeding ground for a thirsty water spirit too long estranged. Fortunately I know just the fix."

Akihiko watched as Edogawa spun the swivel chair, ducking down to address the miniature refrigerator under the counter. When Edogawa swiveled around to face him again, he held out a bottle of Suntory mineral water.

Akihiko took it slowly. "In the meantime, let's keep pursuing other options," Edogawa said. "Tell me, have you felt any negative vibes coming at you from the hallway? No? Did you happen to stumble upon an ancient demonic seal?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"We still haven't ruled out curses, blood oaths, and vengeful family guardians. Have you angered a prominent family in the area? Exchanged words with a suspicious stranger?"

"I don't think so."

"Sometimes it can be as simple as a case of unintentional trespassing. Perhaps you detoured through a garden – caught the eye of a strange statue?"

"I really don't think I'm cursed," Akihiko said, giving up. "I mean, I had a cold a while back, but that's about as exciting as it gets. I'm pretty healthy."

"One man's cold is another man's demonic possession," Edogawa said. "Go ahead and dispel some of our theories. I'll stand by to see if your eyes glow as you drink."

"I wasn't—" … all right, that was pretty funny. Letting his guard down enough to roll his eyes, Akihiko surrendered and twisted the cap off, giving it a cursory sniff before downing a swallow. It crashed into his stomach like a cave-in. He'd lowered it again to continue his argument and stopped when the tang of it lit up the back of his throat.

Surprised, Akihiko lowered the bottle again to study it more carefully. The safety seal hadn't been broken for Edogawa to have tampered with it. It was clearly the same Suntory mineral water Akihiko had used to drink back at the dorm. He took in another mouthful, smaller this time, and held it. His tongue prickled under the metallic intensity.

… come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd drank from anything other than the tap. He did mix various powdered protein boosters into his water in the morning, but they were generally either flavorless or a potent enough hate crime on his tongue that it didn't really qualify as flavor. It'd been so long since he'd indulged in mineral water that the luxury was somehow both nostalgic and alien.

He realized the silence in the clinic had stretched. He looked up to see the glint of Edogawa's glasses on him. "Sorry," he said. He tried to screw the cap back on and instead fumbled it onto the floor. "Sorry. It's really good. Thank you."

"Glad to hear it." Edogawa leaned forward over his knee and plucked the cap from the tile before Akihiko got the chance to retrieve it. "Finish it up and I'll give you another to take back to class."

"Does this mean I'm cleared?"

"Not yet. Finish your water."

The skeleton in the corner grinned at him toothily. Akihiko almost banged the front two teeth out of his head when his jerky hand knocked the mouth of the container against them. He sacrificed speed for composure and settled for gripping the bottle between his hands for a minute, trying to steady his racing heart.

Once again Edogawa was eerily prescient. Before Akihiko could think to feel cornered, Edogawa was pushing away from the exam table once more, plucking another file off the edge of his desk, heel scuffing on the floor in transit. Again the pen came out, and a moment later the sound of scribbling joined the beat of the wall clock over their heads.

Mortified that he was apparently so easy to read, Akihiko nevertheless took the proffered time to wrestle himself back in order. By the time Edogawa shut the drawer and angled a surprisingly sympathetic smile up at him, he felt goaded enough by it to say, "So are my eyes glowing or not?"

"Yes, with academic enthusiasm," Edogawa said. "Tell me something, Sanada-kun. Are you familiar with astrological signs?"

"Signs?"

"We went over them in my guest lecture about a month ago. As I remember, you were paying rather close attention."

What Edogawa was probably remembering was Akihiko's strategy of using the painful glare of light off Edogawa's glasses to help keep himself awake. "Yeah, I remember."

"You have a September birthday, yes? Coming up rather soon, if I recall correctly?"

"The twenty-second. I think someone once told me I'm the ram or something. I never really paid attention to that kind of thing."

"Yes, you are the ram according to Chinese astrology," Edogawa said. "In this case, however, I am referring to Western Hellenistic traditions. Rather than the Chinese system that adheres to the twelve year cycle of Jupiter, Western astrology hinges on the solar year. According to those patterns, your birthday would put you under the dominion of Mercury – a Virgo."

"Yeah," Akihiko said. "Sorry. Like I said, I never really paid attention. I've never believed in that sort of stuff, to be honest."

"Coincidentally, that very lack of belief makes you a quintessential Virgo. Virgos by nature are highly analytical – some would say to the point of being narrow-minded. For a Virgo, the ultimate goal is to bring order to chaos. This drive is so strong that at times they can find themselves paralyzed by the unknown. It makes them very good investigators – if very poor improvisational actors."

"Sounds about right, I guess," Akihiko admitted grudgingly. "But it's not like I never leap before I look. Boxing isn't all about numbers. You have to be able to react to your opponent in the moment too, not just study up on them beforehand and expect everything to fall into place. I use whatever I have to use in order to come out ahead."

"Ah, but see, that too is a Virgo trait: that passionate drive to succeed at all costs," Edogawa said. "Unfortunately, like all good things, that passion can come with a downside: such single-minded intensity can often cause a Virgo to lose track of the reality in the outside world. It's very easy for them to be so caught up in their own journey that they lose sight of what's in front of them."

It really said something about Hamuko that Akihiko's cul-de-sac conversations with her had shored him up this well against Edogawa's whimsy. A year ago this discussion would've had him banging his head against a commuter train. "Who says that has to be a downside?"

Edogawa's eyebrows hiked towards his hairline. "I mean, everybody's got a bit of tunnel vision when they're trying to get better at something, right?" Akihiko said. "Saying that losing sight of your surroundings is always a bad thing cheapens the sacrifice of hard work. Who says improving yourself shouldn't monopolize your focus for a while? Is that really that selfish?"

"I didn't say it was selfish," Edogawa said, mild in contrast to his expression. "Is it something you consider selfish?"

"I mean, if there's something big standing in the way of a goal, it shouldn't be selfish to want to focus on taking that down so you can keep going. I'm just saying being focused on your own journey isn't a bad thing."

"And if that hyper-focus is injurious?"

"Says who? You have to break muscles down first in order to build them up. Hurt isn't always a bad thing," Akihiko said. "Bones heal back stronger after they're broken too. You can't win if you don't push yourself past your limits once in a while. If other people don't get that, it doesn't make it wrong. It just means they don't understand the journey."

Edogawa was silent for a bit. "I see."

Akihiko swirled the last swallow of water in the bottom of his bottle and wondered what kind of emotional hellscape awaited him after school. He had a feeling Mitsuru would make herself scarce for a while with some suspiciously well-timed phone conferences, but the fact was that they lived together and the impending typhoon was making avoidance more difficult than usual. Sooner or later they'd be in each other's faces and Akihiko wasn't entirely sure who'd come out on top of that brawl. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to be the one who did come out on top.

Edogawa stirred. He slid his ankle off his knee and swiveled once again to face his desk, scuffing his heel lightly on the floor in transit. "You strike me as a bit of a risk-taker, Sanada-kun," he said abruptly. "An admiral who sails his fleet without the aid of sacred chickens. Do or die, make or break, am I correct?"

"I dunno, the team's kinda warmed to the chickens," Akihiko said. "It's sort of become a catchphrase in practice. 'Don't toss the chickens'."

Edogawa's laugh was startlingly loud and genuine. "You," he said, jabbing a finger in Akihiko's direction as he bent to access something in his lowest drawer, "and your potential are not free of me yet. I'm determined to make a historian as well as a theologian out of you before the year's out. In the meantime, take this. Here, I'll trade you."

"What is it?" Akihiko warily handed off his empty water bottle and accepted the offering. It was a child's cardboard and plastic ball maze in the shape of an anthropomorphic pineapple. "Why do you have this?"

"Woe be to the joyless adult who doesn't keep a ball maze in their desk for deep philosophical reflection," Edogawa said. "Here is the situation as it stands, Sanada-kun. I would like to send you back to French. I believe I have diagnosed your malady and have a treatment in stock for it. Should my diagnosis prove incorrect, however, I will forgo your treatment and send on the good news to your coach."

"I can go back?" Akihiko jerked at this, suddenly alert. "You're really going to clear me?"

"That is what we're about to wager. Here are the stakes," Edogawa said. "As I said, I have something here that will temporarily ease your symptoms, as well as a treatment plan in mind that will mitigate your symptoms in the future. It has a number of ingredients. Packs a hell of a punch. However, it's also delicate and a tad explosive, so it'll take around three minutes for me to mix up properly. During that time, you will work on getting the ball into the finish chute of that maze. Should you manage before your treatment is prepared… well, that'll prove you don't need it, wouldn't it. I'd have no choice but to clear you and invalidate Kirijo-san's concerns."

Akihiko was still sort of back on the 'delicate and a tad explosive' part. "What is it?"

"Top secret, I'm afraid. Very hush-hush."

"Will it kill me?"

"What a question," Edogawa laughed.

Akihiko waited for him to elaborate. Edogawa didn't. "So you're saying if I beat this," Akihiko said, hefting the maze up to eye level dubiously, "you'll tell Mitsuru I'm okay?"

"Within three minutes. Yes."

"No tricks?"

"Not a single one. It'll provide definitive evidence I can't dispute."

Akihiko looked back down at it. The brightly-colored cardboard backing had been worn dog-eared with use. The plastic atop had a few scuffs from being stored in the drawer, but when he tentatively rattled it, the ball moved easily within its confines. "What say you?" Edogawa said. "Beat the timer and you walk out with my full blessing, proving your detractors wrong. Should you happen to fail in that generous amount of time, you'll submit to the medicine I prescribe you and follow the treatment plan afterwards."

The pineapple's expression was encouraging in the background under the maze. Akihiko wondered why it reminded him of Hamuko. Something about the spiky top and the mischievous grin. "You're sure there's no tricks?"

"I'll even let you set the timer." Edogawa twisted to snag the device off its magnet against the cupboards. He held it out to Akihiko. "No tricks, Sanada-kun. You have my word."

Akihiko slowly took it. He glanced at Edogawa again before setting the time. The buttons beeped as they depressed under his thumb. "Do you accept the challenge?" Edogawa said.

Mitsuru's cool gaze needled him from his memory. Akihiko looked down at the timer and felt something hot and unpleasant sloshing in his chest. Whatever else she'd plotted behind his back, it'd serve her right to be undermined right out of the gate. He could end every stupid bit of speculation right here and diagnose every new doubt she had as dead on arrival.

Nobody ever tries to understand. He wished he could crawl out the window but knew it'd just make things worse. Edogawa probably wouldn't even stop him. Just give him a stepladder to make it easier for him to get over the sill without hurting himself, then send a report up to his advisor to bench him for the remaining season and book him for counseling.

The light on Edogawa's glasses was watching him.

Akihiko breathed in and out and swallowed the rest of it down. "I accept."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure? No pressure."

"Yeah. Bring it."

"There's that Virgo spirit," Edogawa said. "Go ahead and prepare yourself, then. I'll start when you're ready."

Akihiko drew his legs up and crossed them on the bench, centering his elbows atop his thighs as he held the ball maze between his hands. The ball had slid out down one of the corridors; he tilted it back carefully until it clacked back against the starting line. He offered the evidence to Edogawa. "Looks like you're primed to fire," Edogawa said. "All set?"

"Yeah. Go ahead."

Edogawa started the timer.

Akihiko's entire world immediately zeroed in on the task in his lap. He was vaguely aware of Edogawa turning in his swivel chair, almost lazily, to begin plucking bottles from his refrigerator. The ball wouldn't get out of the crook of the starting chute at first. Akihiko attempted finesse for a few seconds, trying to tortoise rather than hare it, then gave up and jogged it against his knee until it jiggled out of the knot. The first avenue he needed to take was up into the pineapple's spike and back down in the adjacent spike to circle the right perimeter. From there he'd have to angle it into the center whorl, and somewhere within that tangle was the corridor that'd send the ball down into the finish chute in the pineapple's right foot.

He turned his wrist and rotated the puzzle periodically, scanning ahead for dead ends. He got the ball up over the spike and down the other without a problem, then bit back a curse when an involuntary wobble of his hand sent it careening into the trap in the pineapple's arm. He shook the puzzle to fish it out and tried again. The ball circled the cul-de-sac under the spike, scooted along the top of the center whorl, and veered into the pineapple's opposite arm.

He became peripherally aware of Edogawa murmuring to himself. He tuned in enough to hear newt liver and essence of newt and something else about newts. Edogawa's back was fully turned so Akihiko couldn't see what was in front of him on the desk. He seemed not to be in a hurry at all, intently reading labels and shaking vials experimentally by his ear. A moment later the refrigerator door was opened back up to the tune of needs more squirrel eyeballs.

Realizing he'd lost time staring, Akihiko jerked his attention back down and tried to focus. This time he took it more slowly, managing to successfully guide the ball back into the central whorl, but the next section – a hard ninety-degree angle with a dead-end coil at the bottom – had him coming up short. He rattled it with waning patience until the ball skittered back towards the arm. Edogawa said something about bat spleens and monkey retinas and Akihiko again suppressed a curse when he overcorrected, sending the ball careening backwards towards the spikes. Click.

His vision blurred with frustration. He slapped the maze atop his knee to get the ball out of the pocket. He angled the maze down to guide the trajectory of the ball towards the central whorl as Edogawa's spoon clinked in the glass on his desk to stir in the bat toes and pyrotechnics. The ball wouldn't seem to stay still. It jittered in the spiral as if caught in an earthquake, then veered when he overcorrected.

Akihiko felt time crawl by him. He surrendered a moment to bite harshly down on the heel of his palm. The flare of pain centered him. He kept his teeth in it as he ran unblinking scrutiny of the board, mapping out the twists ahead of time. Left. He needed to bear over first and then down. Cut across the bottom to get to the final chute and gravity would take care of the rest.

He removed his hand from his mouth and took up the puzzle in both hands again. He steered the ball around the whorl and got to work navigating the center. A ball in the finish chute meant no more eyes across the table and no more of Shinjiro's judgmental silences as he collected Akihiko's unfinished dishes. It meant Mitsuru leaving him the fuck alone and the boxing team looking at him like they finally remembered all the miracles he'd personally delivered to them over the past three years.

Edogawa was putting the ingredients back in the refrigerator.

Go. The ball wobbled in the center like confused prey. No matter how hard or how gently he finagled the maze, the ball ran anywhere and everywhere that he didn't want it. He tried to angle it back and watched it collide with the right arm and then rush over to the left. Click in both dead ends. The pineapple smiled at him from behind the barricade.

Akihiko couldn't see anymore. He hurled it aside on the bed and buried his head in his hands, quivering from the ankles up, breath harsh against his palms as the sting in his eyes intensified into tears.

The timer went off.

Edogawa was calm. "Do you need a minute?"

He shook his head. Edogawa gave him a minute anyway. He collected the maze and put it back in his drawer, shutting it with an equally soft click. "Why couldn't I do it." Akihiko kept his face buried. "I did those all the time as a kid."

"It takes a steady hand."

"I am steady."

Edogawa guided an arm away and propped Akihiko's wrist atop his hand. Akihiko watched his own fingers jitter like spider legs. The marks from his teeth were livid. Edogawa wordlessly turned Akihiko's wrist over and angled Akihiko's knuckles down with gentle pressure from his thumb, exposing the stark jut of his wrist bones, the pale blue vein separating them like a low-slung valley river.

"The solution to your mysterious malady is simple at heart, Sanada-kun," Edogawa-sensei said. "Now that we've arrived at that solution, however, I find I'm inclined to give you the benefit of time to fill your prescription before I send the report of our findings off to your coach. Whether I continue to feel that way in the future will depend on your overall cooperation with said prescription."

Akihiko didn't try to escape as Edogawa twisted over himself to access the glass on his workstation. He accepted it dully, sliding his other hand off his face to cradle it between his aching palms. The glass was already sweating in the warmed clinic air. He thumbed off the condensation and the chill prickled his fingertips.

Edogawa waited.

Akihiko couldn't breathe. Shinjiro's eyes from the armchair. Windows in Yabbashah. The rattle of chains and Miki's shriek in his ear. He lifted the glass and drank down a swallow before he could think. It tasted a lot like almond milk. "As for your tremors," Edogawa said, and emerged presently from his desk again with two packages of strawberry Crunky Wafers. He handed one over to Akihiko. Akihiko set the glass in the cradle of his cross legs to take it. "Bon appétit," Edogawa said.

Akihiko slowly turned the package over. Numbers were projectiles. Sugar and carbohydrates. Sodium. Artificial flavoring and dye. The fat content alone was more than he'd taken down in the past week with all his meals combined.

The light finally dropped from Edogawa's glasses.

Unable to meet his gaze, Akihiko pulled the ends of the packet apart. The scent was as disorienting as the taste of the mineral water. He broke off a piece from the corner, felt the delicate top layer of the wafer crunch and separate under his grip.

He slid it into his mouth. The flavor erupted over his tongue. He chewed and swallowed, and stopped.

"More," Edogawa-sensei said quietly.

He could feel the sting of the clinic's air on his cheeks. He numbly shoveled another piece of the wafer into his mouth. Flakes rained down into his lap. Edogawa bade him to finish his milk and then poured another half of a glass for him to take. Akihiko crammed in the second, the third, barely chewing before he swallowed. The sweetness made the spots under his ears cramp. He ate the fourth wafer in two bites, coughing around it in his haste until Edogawa helped raise the glass of milk back up to wash it down. When the milk was gone Edogawa took the glass away. Akihiko mindlessly crumpled the empty wrapper in his fist.

The skeleton continued to grin at him in the corner.

Edogawa swiveled in his chair to access the refrigerator a final time. A moment later another bottle of water entered Akihiko's line of vision.

He took it. He was caught when Edogawa didn't let go of his end. "You know what I need to see," Edogawa said, barely loud enough to carry over the space between them.

Akihiko nodded.

"Two weeks, Sanada-kun."

"Okay."

Edogawa-sensei let go.

---

.

He hadn't realized he'd left the building until the sting of the elements roused him. He rocked awake under the rhythm of his own stride, school bag pummeling the back of his thighs, wind drawing the rain out of his eyes. The shadow of the sky unfolded above the city like hawk wings.

He took the first train and stole the center of the weaving mass for himself. He turned off his buzzing phone by the third stop. People walked on and off in slipstream echoes of scents and sounds and smoke.

The transition off the train was as sudden as the one from the school. He was center-mass and then he wasn't. He left the station and turned the corner off the main drag, heading towards the side streets, winding his way into the heart of Old Town.

Rain fluttered against his teeth. He bit at it and swallowed it, chasing down the minerals and milk. He ate the smoke from the businessman on a cigarette break outside of a Lawson's lot and then ate the scent of the perfume from the woman walking her dog on its cherry-colored leash. Umbrellas bloomed from the gloom around him like flowers.

He passed by the concrete embankment as the sea rummaged around in fractals, walking until commerce gradually disappeared under layers of grime. His stomach was bursting and his head felt as empty as the chamber of his Evoker. He exhaled a visible plume into the chilly air and ate it back up. The rain continued to spritz sideways rather than fall outright, enough to make his shirt cling to his collarbone and the strap of his school bag feel clammy under his grip.

He hadn't realized he'd already known where he was going until the gravel started shifting under his feet. He twined into the grit, into the pockets of neglect, school uniform a shout against the grunge. There was something sparking in his head now that his phone was off but he couldn't focus on it. It was peripheral and it wasn't food and it wasn't flight or fight.

Because he was looking for it, or because it was always looking for him, he got the trouble he was hoping for when he heard the catcall. He reversed course, turned the corner, and passed by the bent street sign and cut across the overgrown lot bordering the shuttered low-slung apartment complex. The three punks were on the stoop in lazy lion sprawls as the fourth twined around the building to join them. The woman they were harassing lengthened her stride as she approached, still speaking into her phone, a tight expression on her face. She had on a backpack she was gripping over her shoulder; she shrugged it onto the opposite side away from them as she closed the distance.

The punk who'd rounded the corner flicked his lit cigarette at her as she passed. Despite her resolve to ignore them she flinched reflexively, glaring at him. The answering grin was a predator's glint in the gloom. He said something Akihiko was too far away to pick up, but the other guys laughed. One of the ones sprawled on the steps tilted his head theatrically to look up the woman's skirt as she left.

Akihiko was already in motion. His bag was Kirijo-sponsored and looked pretty expensive. He could leverage a lack of scruples without a lot of effort here. Some shit talk, maybe a pompous look. He wasn't a good actor but this didn't require thespian glory. He'd let them land a blow for posterity and then everything after that would be in self-defense.

He hiked his bag into position over his shoulder. Maybe he'd even let them take the bag at first for good measure. Self-defense was legally messy but theft was pretty clean. Security cameras would record a nice vindicating story.

Akihiko flexed his fingers to warm up his wrists and swallowed the chilly rain-scented air in and out of his trash-burning dumpster-fire stomach. The punks were laughing uproariously again. The woman was out of sight. Cigarettes punctuated the gloom like miniature sunsets.

Eat.

He closed distance without feeling himself move. The guys hadn't noticed him yet but would soon. Akihiko's mind was gloriously and prismatically blank. Just a few good hits on him before he'd get serious. He could use the realignment. He wouldn't wreck them hard enough to need medical intervention either. Just hard enough to make some necks too sore to look up skirts for a while.

He was preparing to close the rest of the distance when a broad hand settled to envelope the back of his neck, thumb curling lightly against his carotid. Shinjiro's murmur in his ear held zero antagonism. Just a tired promise. "Take one more step and you're getting knocked out, Aki."

Akihiko considered this. Castor and Polydeuces were toe-to-toe bulwarks in their heads. He let Shinjiro's hand stay where it was because it probably looked really nice from a third party perspective. Maybe an older brother comforting a younger brother after a hard day at school. He tilted his head as if to lean back into the comfort and felt Shinjiro's thumb sweep a bit in response, mimicking his mockery of gentleness.

He thought about what it would be like to take one more step. Shinjiro had no compunction whatsoever about knocking him out but he'd be careful how he did it. He wouldn't risk permanent damage by hitting him upside the head with Castor's strength. What would happen was that he'd tighten his grip on Akihiko's shoulder and yank him around, hold onto him for insurance, and fire a fist point-blank into his stomach. Even if it didn't knock him out, a combat-strength hit there from Shinjiro would incapacitate him for a good long while. Plenty of time for Shinjiro to tote him out of here like a sack of rice and deal with his bullshit later.

Eat. Akihiko felt suspended between mediums. He could get at least an elbow into Shinjiro's solar plexus from here. Double him over and then his jaw would be up for grabs. Shinjiro would still come out ahead but Akihiko could make him work for it.

Shinjiro's grip tightened to bruising strength.

Akihiko realized with an out of body awareness that he was shaking. It seemed like a strange detail to him. The rain was dampening his hair over his temples and curling the edge of the bandage over his scar up. He wished he had his jacket. "In case you can't tell," Shinjiro said, still sotto voce, "I ain't real thrilled to be dragged out here in the rain to collar you, so if I were you I'd make up my mind pretty quick here before I make it up for you."

Akihiko curled his tongue around the plume of his breath like a dragon tasting its own smoke. The strap of his bag was slicing painfully into his shoulder. He realized it was because Shinjiro's other hand was dragging it back so harshly that it'd become a strain to stay upright, let alone move forward.

He resisted another moment, gulping rain into the fire. When the pressure increased another agonizing degree he gave into it. He backslid a step and then another. The flickers of violent color in his head dimmed as Castor took over, and for the first time in a while Shinjiro was the one to seize a hold of the tether between them, throttling the last of Akihiko's resistance.

Shinjiro steered him around, still gripping the scruff of his neck like he was a feral dog. "Walk," Shinjiro gritted between his teeth, pushing him in the direction of the train station.

Akihiko walked. The sidewalks smoothed out under their feet and the wind twined through the buildings with deep-belly groans. Shinjiro's hand shifted from the back of his neck to his shoulder as they approached the intercity streets, guiding him inexorably through the increasingly dense streams of commuter traffic before keying them both through the terminal. Akihiko hadn't even been aware Shinjiro had a transit card.

He let himself be shoved down into a seat by the door as Shinjiro stood over him, hand fisted into the overhead strap. Akihiko thought about nothing. His head was cluttered with low-hanging clouds. People got on and then got off, bringing swaths of rain-dampened air under the fluttering thumps of closing umbrellas. When he tried to get up, to move out at the tail end of the exiting stream of people back into the storm, Shinjiro's free hand immediately fisted in his hair, shoving him back down into his seat and holding him there with muted violence. He kept it there through the next stop, angled close enough to obscure the other passengers' view of the exchange.

At the third stop he let go, catching the strap of Akihiko's bag and hauling him up. Akihiko stumbled as he was shoved out the doors. The back of his neck was engulfed again as Shinjiro steered him without words: down steps that clanged in the confines of the stairwell, in and out of main-street commerce in air that felt warmer away from the fringes of the sea.

Akihiko recognized the colorful construction of Naganaki shrine before he'd fully internalized it. The shrine was deserted – a combination of midday work hours and bad weather. Shinjiro let him go as they reached the grassy stretch flanking the southern wall. Before Akihiko could register the sudden freedom, Shinjiro clouted him across the face hard enough to knock the dust straight out of his head. Akihiko went sprawling onto the damp soil in a tangle of limbs and his school bag, mouth suddenly stuffed with cotton. The chimes were ringing up at the head of the shrine as they twisted in the tumult of wind. Silver in the grey.

He panted into the dirt, vision swinging, as Shinjiro worked the kinks out of his hand above him. The return of his senses was painfully slow. Trickles of emotion and consequences and too-late guilt. "Get up," Shinjiro said.

"Fuck you." He was too dizzy to sit. Akihiko painstakingly extricated himself from his tangled strap and leaned his forehead against the grass.

"Get up. You want a fight, you'll get a fight."

"Fuck you."

Shinjiro dragged him up by his vest. Akihiko was swinging before he was halfway up. Shinjiro barely reacted as the fist connected with his ribs, but Akihiko could feel the flare of pain through their link. Shinjiro jammed his knuckles up under Akihiko's chin and Akihiko saw nebulas. He took a blind swing and Shinjiro absorbed it with barely a grunt as he took a solid hold of Akihiko's shoulder, shifting his weight, and there was the hit to the stomach Akihiko had been expecting from the beginning.

He went down. The shrine rotated in scraps of grey. Rain and soil and flowers. "Get up," Shinjiro said.

Akihiko curled his knees towards his chest and heaved for air, throbbing cheek mashed against the dirt. His phone stabbed into his hipbone. "You're a fucking moron," Shinjiro said. "Four on one, Aki? Why the fuck aren't you at school?"

He had no breath to respond. His adrenaline had him shaking as much as the cold. He dug his fingers mindlessly into the soil by his head. The spatters of rain stung him like salt.

"I can't leave you alone for a few hours without you getting up into this horseshit? What the hell's wrong with you?"

Demonic possession. Akihiko shuddered with laughter that hurt every goddamn bone in his body. Organ harvesting. Scraps of himself oozing out of the windows in Yabbashah. Leaking across the color-stealing skeins of Hamuko's yarn.

Shinjiro dragged him up. Akihiko braced himself for another blow and instead found his face mashed against Shinjiro's chest as Shinjiro seized the back of his head, clasping Akihiko to him with harsh strength.

Akihiko continued to heave with breath as he folded into the warmth, fluttering wings of tremors migrating up from his ankles into his throat. "You're scaring the shit out of me, Aki." Shinjiro sounded as raw as a burn. Almost helpless.

I'm sorry. It was the first full, coherent thought he'd had since leaving Edogawa's office. Akihiko curled his fingers into the weather-worn fabric of Shinjiro's coat. Castor invaded his mental landscape like a looming midday moon. He leaned against both supports, struggling to catch his breath as rain sluiced down his collar. "Can you walk?" Shinjiro muttered.

Akihiko sputtered out a laugh against him. "If you… wanted me to walk, you… shouldn't have caved my ribs in."

"Grow a pair, I didn't hit you that hard."

"You barely pulled it."

"You think any of those assholes you were squaring up on would've pulled their strikes?"

Akihiko felt bottomless. He dangled out over the internal precipice, held back by Shinjiro's support, wondering whether to let gravity win. "Stupid shit." Shinjiro pulled away enough to get his coat off. He wrapped it around Akihiko's shoulders and steered his arms into it without a lot of gentleness. "We talking about this?"

He'd never skipped school so brazenly before. Everything felt foreign and illicit to him. "This about Kirijo?" Shinjiro asked.

Returning warmth was bringing back some slippery cognizance. When Shinjiro fisted the hair out of Akihiko's eyes to get a better look at them, Akihiko rallied enough to speak. "No."

"The hell is this then."

Akihiko shook his head. "Whatever." Shinjiro cinched up the coat. "Getting you out of this noise. C'mon."

Akihiko stumbled against him as the world rearranged itself on its axis. Shinjiro stooped to grab Akihiko's bag and slung it over his own shoulders without commentary. He kept a hold of Akihiko's elbow as he steered Akihiko back in the direction of the path. Akihiko could still hear the delicate shiver of bells somewhere near the head of the shrine.

He regained some of himself by the time they were passing by the children's play structure. He caught a hold of one of the struts of the climbing bars, forcing them both to a halt before they could go any further. The rain was intensifying again with the uptick in wind.

Shinjiro looked achingly human without his coat, nearly as weather-worn as the fabric: skin chapped in the webbing between his knuckles, the ridge of his shoulders smaller and more defensive. "I want to know something." Akihiko's throat was dry. He had to clear it. "I want you to answer honestly."

"Yeah, because this is a great time for this," Shinjiro said. "Got balls spouting that at me, you know that? You've been up to nothing but bullshit for the past month."

"I have not."

Shinjiro gave a sweeping gesture over him to indicate the dearth of Akihiko's brain cells. "That's not the same," Akihiko said.

"Get over it. It's fucking cold out here. Some loser stole my coat."

"I want to know what's up between you and Hamuko."

Shinjiro actually stopped. Actually let go, taking a step back as though to bring Akihiko into focus.

After being manhandled for the better part of an hour, Akihiko found himself weirdly adrift without the violence. He tightened his grip on the rail slowly and watched an entire catalogue of expressions flip on Shinjiro's face. "If you tell me," Shinjiro said, too soft, "that chick was the reason you almost let your ass get stomped in an alley—"

"It's not."

"We're really doing this here, Aki? Really?"

"Just tell me." His throat hurt more than his head. Akihiko flexed his tight-knuckled hold on the rail. "You don't do that for just anyone. Baking, I mean. It used to be me and Mitsuru, but Hamuko says you're cooking for the juniors now too. Baking too."

"What the fuck about it? We're not doing this here," Shinjiro said. "I don't owe you shit. Make all the speeches you want. What I get up to in my spare time isn't any of your business."

The truce had been nice while it'd lasted. He felt disconnected again. Akihiko pushed off the bar and headed towards the sidewalk. There was still time for a run. Mitsuru would be ready to fillet every crevice of his ass by the time she came home but he could extend that deadline. He could suspend the consequences if he flew a little longer.

Shinjiro caught him and slung him back against the bars, and for a moment Akihiko actually did blank out. His head clanged and the nebulas were more darkness than light. "I thought we weren't doing this now," Akihiko said, blinking them away.

Shinjiro said some phrases that Ouka-san would've tenderized both of their backsides for back at the orphanage. "You didn't tell me you were that close to her," Akihiko said. "You didn't tell me you cared so much about the juniors. You never said."

"What the fuck if I do, Aki? What difference does it make?"

"It would've helped."

Shinjiro loomed above him, hand snarled in the collar of his own jacket.

"That's all." Akihiko couldn't breathe. Well-meaning betrayals. Familiar colors and lines that he'd known his whole life growing alien and dissimilar under a different moon. The comforting contours of Edogawa's office closing in on him like the vice of Shinjiro's grip. "If I'd known you and Hamuko… if I'd known you'd made some more ties here other than me, thrown in more anchors around the dorm… I wouldn't have been so worried about you that whole time. It just would've… all been easier to handle. That's all."

Shinjiro said nothing. His grip didn't ease, but Akihiko felt something shift in their heads. Something with the slip-slide intensity of an undertow.

He remembered the look of longing in Hamuko's eyes as she watched Shinjiro walk away. Akihiko could no longer parse what it was he was feeling. It hurt. Something hurt. "Let go," he said.

To his surprise, Shinjiro did. Akihiko started walking again. This time Shinjiro didn't stop him. The way back to the dorm was dotted with only the occasional passerby, huddled under umbrellas to outpace the rain. The dorm was locked when he tried the door. He used his key and felt the impression of the lobby spill out over him in a warm billow of breakfast-scented air.

He showered in lukewarm water that still scalded his skin. He dressed in his oversized hoodie in his room, threw his towel over the back of his chair, and thumped back downstairs in search of water that wouldn't boil him alive. Shinjiro was making tea and something else that required an apron. He'd swapped clothes without showering, skinny and somehow still intimidating in a long sleeve t-shirt and jeans.

He was too depleted to backtrack. Suddenly more tired than he'd ever been in his life, Akihiko accidentally barked his hip off the TV and then the arm of the sofa as he fumbled his way towards the cushions. He curled onto his aching side and wondered where Koromaru was. Maybe he'd gone to wait at Ken's school to meet him during his lunch recess. Akihiko hoped he was warm wherever he'd holed up.

He drifted until steam roused him. Shinjiro was setting Akihiko's mug down on a coaster atop the coffee table, already having arranged his own in the space in front of the armchair. He had his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder. He straightened back up, hand snaking up to brace the phone again, and returned to the kitchen.

Akihiko dully scratched the fabric under his fingernails. The steam smelled herbal. Shinjiro had probably made it himself. He and Hamuko had revived Shinjiro's old herb garden at the beginning of September and had a mutual rack of dried hanging herbs in the kitchen. It was domestic as hell. Junpei had laughed about it and Hamuko had whapped him on the back with a stirring spoon and threatened to starve him with unspiced mediocrity if he didn't shut up. Shinjiro was speaking in a low voice in the kitchen and Akihiko presumed he was reassuring whoever was on the line that Akihiko's dumbfuck ass was someplace warm. Kirijo Corp picked up a lot of strays. It made sense Mitsuru would want to collar the ones who made the most fuss.

Shinjiro returned presently without the phone and with an ice pack. "Sit up."

He ached. Akihiko clumsily curled his legs under him, using the back of the sofa for leverage. Shinjiro was impersonally careful as he angled Akihiko's face in his grip, examining the bruising. "Hold this on the back of your head," Shinjiro said, and Akihiko reluctantly took the icepack from him. He tucked it into the hood of his sweatshirt and then cinched the hood up, repositioning the pack until the piercing Bufu of it lay flush against the knot. "Drink that," Shinjiro said, motioning to the tea as he threw himself into his own seat, making the frame creak.

Akihiko cradled the searing mug between his palms, balancing the dichotomous temperatures. "Kirijo's pissed," Shinjiro said. "But not pissed enough to fry you just yet. Says as long as you're safe she'll deal with it later. She's got her mind on this operation tonight."

"We can't go with this storm overhead."

"Not up to you."

"I'm a field leader too."

"No you're not," Shinjiro said, brutal but still impersonally so. He'd hiked his ankle up like a girl as usual to sip his own tea. "It's Arisato and Kirijo's call. Don't like it, don't go. Nobody's forcing you."

"Hamuko talks to you, doesn't she? You already knew she had a bad feeling about this operation. She's only going because she's trying to look out for Mitsuru and her company."

"So?"

So care about her. Akihiko felt boxed into his own skin. He tried to take a shaky sip but the tea was too hot. Shinjiro was drinking his like his tongue was made out of rawhide. "S'nothing going on me with me and the chick you need to worry about," Shinjiro said abruptly. "If that's what you were on about at the shrine. You want that ballbuster, nab her. I ain't standing in your way."

He again remembered the way Hamuko's eyes had followed Shinjiro out her door. "That's not what I meant back there and you know it."

"Oh yeah?"

"That's not what we're talking about."

"Sure it's not. Not gonna run circles with you," Shinjiro said. "I just room here. Whatever else you got going on – Kirijo, Arisato, both of them, fuck if I care – it's got nothing to do with me. We gonna have a problem about this, I'll take myself out of your hair for good so you don't have to knot yourself up over—"

"Don't."

Shinjiro's mug halted halfway.

Akihiko focused down on the burning tea in the mug, tightening his grip until he could no longer feel the sting. "Don't say things like that."

Shinjiro's mug eventually completed the journey. He finished the tea, set it down. He then braced his palm sideways over his mouth for a while, elbow propped on the arm of the chair, hard gaze fixed across the room.

"I'm sorry that you had to come bail me out back there," Akihiko said. "I didn't mean for it to go down that way."

Shinjiro grunted around his palm.

"How did you find me?"

"How the hell did you think I wouldn't find you?"

Akihiko wondered what kind of signal flares Polydeuces had been sending up. After a certain point he hadn't been able to feel his persona at all. Just impressions. Just sea and salt.

Shinjiro scrubbed down his face, fingertips digging soundly into the corner of his eyes. "Did Mitsuru say anything about me and the mission?" Akihiko asked. "Whether or not she was benching me?"

"Didn't ask."

"She didn't say anything at all?"

"You want her to bench you?"

He thumbed the side of his mug slowly and didn't answer.

When he couldn't stand it anymore, he said, "Don't feed me that crap about Hamuko, Shinji."

Shinjiro made an impatient noise in his throat. He tossed his leg down, hiked up his other leg. "Just admit it," Akihiko said. "What are you trying to hide it so hard for?"

"She's got a mouth and a brain. She thinks something's off, she can tell Kirijo herself. Doesn't need me talking over her."

"I already told you she's doing this for Mitsuru. She's not going to stand up for herself if she thinks she's helping someone by taking on those burdens. It's not how she's wired."

Shinjiro said nothing. "Don't you understand how much she already relies on you?" Akihiko's throat was closing again. "Not just in battle, but here? At home? Don't you get it?"

Shinjiro kept working at his eyes.

Care about her. Akihiko's eyes were stinging again. He buried his nose in the steam. At the same time, don't care about her. Hamuko looked like Miki and that had tracked in his head all the way up until this. This was different than Shinjiro giving Miki piggyback rides to the playground or French braiding her hair for her when Akihiko's hands were too banged up from schoolyard brawls to do it himself. This reached deeper and had uglier cul-de-sacs. Let her rely on me instead. I stick around. You don't.

He thought about all the cutting-edge drugs they'd need one day to keep this infuriating dying human alive enough to sit up and talk on his own, let alone give piggyback rides. Shinjiro was so entrenched in Akihiko's life that Akihiko couldn't even envision what a permanent absence would feel like. It was like trying to imagine a severed limb.

Shinjiro said, "You're fucking loud."

"I can't help it."

"Drink your tea. Shut up. Stop thinking for two seconds."

"I can't help it. Get off my back."

Shinjiro's eyes were on him. He said without pretense or preamble, a general sort of announcement Akihiko knew had been coming from the start, "You ever do this again and I'm breaking your leg, Aki."

Akihiko hid himself in the tea. It was cool enough now to bite his tongue instead of burn it. "We clear?" Shinjiro said.

He was eminently qualified to be a dick about it but also knew when not to push his luck. He nodded. "You're a pain in the ass," Shinjiro said. "Kirijo says you might as well rest up if you're not in class. She'll vet you when she comes home."

"I'm not going to be left behind if the rest of the team's going."

"Then stop fucking up where Kirijo can see it," Shinjiro said, which actually was an accurate summation of most things in Akihiko's life. Stop fucking up where other people could see. "You gonna do anything else stupid if I leave?"

"You're going back out?"

"Not if you're gonna do something stupid."

Akihiko considered the myriad ways in which he was stupid. Stupid usually happened when he wasn't thinking about it. "Goddamn it." Shinjiro took his empty mug back to the kitchen. He waited by with strained patience as Akihiko struggled with his own, then took his too. "You tanking here or in your room?"

"My room." His room was pretty far though. He'd have to work up to it. Akihiko curled back onto his side with spice on his tongue, remembering how the scents had been nearly visible on his way downtown. The Bufu on the back of his head throbbed as much as the bruise.

"Your room."

"I'll go in a minute."

Shinjiro gave him a minute. He washed their mugs in the kitchen. Akihiko heard the sounds of them being upended on the dish rack. He pictured getting up, pictured sliding his legs over the side, tackling the stairs. Two at a time. Three at a time. He closed his eyes and teleported there in a blink instead. A leap like the one Polydeuces took when Akihiko shot him out of his skin.

Shinjiro returned. He worked Akihiko's hood back and took out the ice pack, probing the knot experimentally until Akihiko bit back a hiss. He nabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and threw it over him. "I really am going upstairs," Akihiko said, just to say it.

"Shut up." Shinjiro went to retrieve a book. He collapsed back in the armchair, hiking his leg up, scritching his hat hair as he flipped to the bookmarked spot one-handed. Akihiko couldn't see what was on the cover.

Fatigue crept back under the silence. Akihiko dug his fingertips into the sofa cushions and counted each and every one of his fuck-ups like bedtime sheep. Shinjiro and Castor bracketed his mental landscape in mirrors.

Akihiko braced his forehead against the curve of his fist. When he reached out across the shared subliminal space, he felt Shinjiro anchor him reflexively: left hand and right.

The typhoon unfolded over them like static.

---

.

Ikutsuki's presence at the pre-battle briefing was unexpected enough to be unpleasant. Having gotten used to SEES operating independently with Chidori that past month, Akihiko found himself chafing a bit as the director took control of their mission room, generous with his praise and encouragement like he didn't routinely disappear from their lives when it was convenient for him. He laid out an array of Dark Hour numerical minutiae atop the table and summoned both Mitsuru and Fuuka to comb over the data with him, nodding in a show of deep concentration as Mitsuru detailed the night's plan.

Akihiko caught Junpei trying to exchange derisive looks with Hamuko, but for her part Hamuko merely perched cross-legged atop her chair like a grade schooler, bobby pins twinkling in the lamplight, chin settled in the curve of her palm as she watched the meeting unfold. She seemed not to care at all that Ikutsuki wasn't addressing her as a leader. "So it seems – as far as we've discerned – that the composition of Tartarus itself doesn't change under atmospheric conditions," Ikutsuki said at last, leaning back in his chair decisively. "Floor design is randomized save for the guarded checkpoints and the gates bisecting each level. It appears, however, that the Shadows themselves are susceptible to fluctuations: not just of the moon, but of weather and even air quality. I would definitively say that should we manage to get a stronger bead on which external factors most influence their strength and composition, we can greatly accelerate our progress."

"Not to put a damper on good news or anything, but should speed really be our focus?" Yukari's ankle was hiked up as she leaned back in her own chair, her bow already oiled and strung across her lap. "I thought the idea was that we were exploring the tower to uncover the origins of the Dark Hour, not racing our way to the top like it's undokai or something."

"The two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive," Ikutsuki said. "The strength of the Shadows in Thebel pale in comparison to the Shadows you have battled in Tziah. If the tower is only responding to your strength and mastery of your personae, it would stand to reason that even when you return to Thebel, the Shadows you encounter will have increased their strength as well. Instead they remain static. One must assume then – as the difficulty continues to climb with each level – that the tower is making pains to protect what it values at the top."

"We have been discovering much more valuable treasure lately, and a lot more frequently," Fuuka said. She was tapping the eraser of her pencil against her teeth with nervous little clicks. "But I'm not sure if the treasure and the Shadows we're fighting necessarily have a correlation."

"Can you elaborate, Yamagishi?" Mitsuru said.

Akihiko watched Fuuka blink herself out of her thoughts. Realizing she'd inadvertently become the center of attention, she flushed a little but responded readily. "While it's true the Shadows themselves are growing stronger the higher we go, the tower is also influenced by what we bring to it. It's not just the Shadows that respond to fluctuations. There's a part of us that expects that the higher we go, the harder it's going to get – and when work is harder, we expect the reward to be greater."

"Do you observe this as well?" Ikutsuki asked Aigis.

Aigis inclined her head, not quite commitment. Her own examination of the data had been unblinking. "I have seen nothing to support nor deny these conclusions definitively," she said. "However, considering how mutable the Shadows are to external stimuli, it would stand to reason that we may offer some influence on its composition as well. I have observed Tartarus respond to weaknesses and strengths much in the way our personae do. It is not outside the realm of possibility."

"Ah, I see," Ikutsuki said. His glasses were glinting in a way that reminded Akihiko of Edogawa. "So what you two are saying is that the power of, say, positive thought – or lack thereof – could theoretically be affecting Tartarus just as much as the weather or the air quality?"

"It's not anything I can chart for sure. I just know that in the Dark Hour, X doesn't always equal Y," Fuuka said. "I-I'd like more time to process the data before I make any definitive conclusions. I don't think racing to the top will solve the mystery any faster, though. I think we should still be careful and learn as much as we can about each level before moving on."

"Well, regardless." Ikutsuki looked satisfied as he set down his pen. "We have more than enough to go on for now. I think it's high time we put these theories to the test. Mitsuru-san? What say you and your team to an excursion?"

"All are present and combat-ready," Mitsuru said. "I think at this point, anyone who still harbors objections should state them now. In all likelihood this checkpoint will present a difficult challenge. It's better to air your concerns now than to bring them in with you."

Akihiko felt Shinjiro shift a bit against the wall behind him and glanced over his shoulder. To his surprise, Shinjiro was looking at Hamuko. Hamuko had yet to speak or react at all, odd-colored eyes still sweeping the charts over the table as idly as if she were picking out curtain patterns for her room. "Splendid." Ikutsuki clapped briskly into the ensuing silence. He rose out of his chair and headed for the door of the command room. "All is settled. Shall we move out, then? The hour draws near. I am certain the chairman will be pleased to hear news of your success."

The lace on Akihiko's old glove was frayed nearly to snapping. He didn't move from the sofa, working a thumb under the ties to loosen them. It took Ikutsuki a long moment to realize nobody was following him out. He slowed at the threshold of the door and half-turned, blinking. "A moment, Ikutsuki-san," Mitsuru said. "There are protocols to observe, after all."

"Protocols?" Ikutsuki looked blank. "Is there something else you needed from me?"

"Nope, we're fine." Ken smiled at him. "We just have our own way of doing things, that's all."

"Surely this isn't the time to stand on ceremony. We should begin without delay."

"Haste makes waste," Junpei said. He'd been rummaging through their general inventory for the past several minutes; he made a heads-up motion to Yukari across the room before tossing her a vial of topical medicine, which she caught with one hand to store in her hip holster. He cinched up the bag and shoved it over to Ken, who packed it away in his backpack. Koromaru gave his Evoker collar a sound scratch at Ken's feet. "Kinda short on food, but we got some protein drinks," Junpei told Hamuko. "Should keep us topside for the most part."

"What do you think?" Akihiko asked her, low.

Hamuko watched the charts for a while longer. Akihiko still couldn't read the expression on her face, but every flicker of her eyes was telling. She lingered on the estimated floor count left to the checkpoint, the scouter numbers for the guardian Fuuka had penciled in, over to the condition of their equipment as of Yukari's last weapons inspection. Her chin migrated briefly to the cradle of her interlaced fingers as her gears silently turned.

At last she stirred. "Sounds fun. Let's get on it."

Ikutsuki looked disgruntled as they rose as one, dispersing to make last-minute trips to their rooms. "Was that truly necessary?"

"You will have to excuse us, Ikutsuki-san," Mitsuru said, strapping on her blade. There was something too innocent behind her eyes, and Akihiko realized with a start that Mitsuru had been enjoying the moment immensely. "But as you say, SEES members are expected to be able to operate autonomously in the absence of direct executive oversight. Surely you understand the need for protocol in such a highly specialized group of operatives."

"I'll be right back," Akihiko murmured to Shinjiro as he passed by him, lifting the lace of the glove up in explanation, and Shinjiro nodded. He jogged down the two flights to his room, working his gloves off, and got into his school bag to dig out the new knuckles he'd bought at the police station. It wasn't an ideal time to try them out, but any breaking in he'd need to suffer was preferable to actual, literal breaking if his frayed laces snapped on his old ones.

He was in the midst of finding a tighter belt to hang his Evoker holster on when the knock came on his door. Already knowing it'd been coming, Akihiko still felt his heart knuckling in his chest as he answered it. "May I come in?" Mitsuru asked.

He stood aside. Mitsuru didn't sit. She presented herself in the center of his room like a commander appraising the state of their soldiers' barracks, running a discerning eye over the floor, his bed, the towel on his chair.

Akihiko found the belt he'd modified a few weeks ago and worked it through the loops on his trousers. It still slouched with the weight of the Evoker, but it was better than outright pantsing himself in front of the girls. With any luck Hamuko would pull her usual early-night disappearing act in the Tartarus lobby and give him time to punch a new hole into the leather.

Successfully not naked, Akihiko spent a last minute updating his own private inventory to include his blister salve and extra bandages in case his new gloves chafed him during exploration. Mitsuru's arms were crossed as she broke off her perusal of his room to face him fully. She spoke at last, consonants crisp and cool. "I imagine you have words for me."

That was unexpected. Akihiko bit down a startled laugh as he packed his anti-inflammatory gel. "What makes you think I have words?"

"Don't play games."

"I'm not. You're the one who came to me."

"I'm not here to castigate you for your choices or offer excuses for my own," Mitsuru said. "I'm here to assess your well-being and see if you truly think you're prepared for tonight's exploration."

"I think you already made it pretty clear you don't care what I think."

Mitsuru caught his elbow as he was buttoning his vest. He was pretty mad but not mad enough to fight her as she steered him down to sit at his desk chair. He could feel the hour continuing to slip by them, the sky starting to invert over their heads.

Mitsuru's touch was cold as she examined the bruise on his cheek. "You didn't have to do that to me," Akihiko said. "You know you could've just talked to me. You set me up."

"And you would have told me the truth had I asked you directly?"

"You didn't give me a chance!"

"You had ample opportunity that day to explain what happened in class. You chose to let the gossip mill explain it to me instead. If I can't count on you to be forthright, then I will exercise my rights as your executive—"

"You not my executive anything," Akihiko said. "How long have we known each other, Mitsuru? How many times did I promise not to tell your father how much you cried that first year in the dorm? Or that time I helped you clean up your mess when your ice got out of control and burst the pipes in the bathroom? How many times did I help you sneak out just so you could take a breath without a dozen analysts getting in your face? You could've talked to me."

"And look what good that's doing now," Mitsuru said. Her face had tightened during his diatribe but her tone remained infuriatingly calm. "Akihiko, whether you like it or not, your health is my concern. If you weren't going to be responsible, it would be a disservice to you for me not to address it in your stead."

"Nothing happened!"

"You fainted in class."

"And I got back up. Because I always get back up. Look, you and I both know you wouldn't be up here if you actually thought I couldn't handle this," Akihiko said. "You would've just benched me in front of the others like you did in April. You're doing this to make yourself feel better about blowing past all the other checkpoints on this mission."

Mitsuru's lips thinned. Her clinical touch stilled on his face. "What's this really about?" Akihiko asked. "You never rush like this. What's gotten into you? Why are you risking so much just to come out ahead of the storm?"

"I have a responsibility to make sure our expeditions proceed at an optimal pace. With the energy readings so fluctuant in this storm, Kirijo analysts are concerned for the possibility in the future of a full moon and weather event coinciding. They need data to definitively map the risk."

"Since when have the Shadows in Tartarus ever reacted that way to the full moon?"

"We can't count on good fortune indefinitely," she said crisply. "Arisato has also expressed concern for the effects inclement weather have on Shadow formation. If there was ever a time to take a calculated risk for the sake of data, it's now."

"And proving yourself to your father has nothing to do with it," Akihiko said.

Mitsuru didn't answer.

He pushed her hand away and stood, finishing buttoning his vest. "Akihiko," Mitsuru said.

"Look, what do you want from me? I already said I'm on board. You win, okay? We're going. Why aren't you haunting any of the others about this?"

"Look at me."

Akihiko jerked on his bracers roughly and cinched them back up. "Look at me," Mitsuru snapped, raw suddenly.

He froze at the tone. Mitsuru's sword was still sheathed at her side, the sleek lines of her scabbard throwing strips of reflected light onto his floor. Her hair was tied back for battle, a simple brass-colored hairclip pinning her bangs away from her eye. Her fist was clenching and unclenching at her side.

Realizing how close to the edge she was, Akihiko relented grudgingly. He folded some of his body language away to blunt some of his own edges. "I'm aware that you see my concern as a… betrayal," Mitsuru said. "As much as it frustrates you, this isn't the time to play these games. Tonight is a risk, but it's a calculated risk Arisato and I have deemed worth taking. You however are not worth risking. Do you understand?"

Frankly he didn't. Akihiko kept adjusting his cuffs as he angled himself away from her. His elbow throbbed and he wondered if he should pop a painkiller before he went up. "This visit will be demanding and in all likelihood Arisato will elect to bring you with her," Mitsuru said. "I need you to tell me now if, for any reason, you feel that you will be unable to fight to your full potential tonight."

"It's fine."

"Akihiko."

"Look, if you don't trust me, why not just go behind my back and ask Edogawa?" Akihiko snapped, out of patience. "That's easier than asking me, right? Why don't you go get an opinion you actually care about?"

The temperature of the room plunged. Mitsuru grew utterly still in the center. He couldn't see her eyes.

Akihiko felt his walls invert until he could barely breathe around the pressure. Ashamed, he fumbled the lace tight on his remaining bracer and pushed past her. She didn't move.

"I'll meet you downstairs," he said, and left. Something in the set of her shoulders had reminded him of Ken.

---

.

Fuuka was submerged in Lucia's light for nearly ten minutes. When she finally began to speak, the information was halting and vague – shades of explosive but not hot and squat but mobile and no eyes but always seeking. "Kinda sounds like a sphinx's riddle," Junpei said.

"I'm sorry I can't be more precise." Fuuka's disembodied voice sounded fretful, but her serene expression inside Lucia's bubble didn't change. "It's like trying to get information from an echo. There are so many layers of information, I can't tell which is the one represents the origin."

"Squat but mobile?" Ken was leaning on his spear, knocking his temple thoughtfully against the wood. "It sounds kind of like a turret to me."

"If I had to hazard a guess… yes. That's the impression I'm receiving."

"Well, it's not anything we didn't expect." Hamuko was an unintentional and more terrifying mirror of Ken, cheek reflected in the lethal blade as she bobbed it thoughtfully by her ear. "Give me a sec to get my ducks in a box."

"It's 'in a row'," Yukari muttered from her usual perch on the stairs as Hamuko trotted away to the corner. "'Ducks in a row'. I don't know what crevice she pulls those things from."

"Not to alarm you or anything, but she's totally had baby ducks in a box before," Junpei said. "She rescued them from a sewage drain near the park and hid them in her room for two days until she could find a rescue center on the island that'd take them."

"You knew this?" Mitsuru demanded.

"Hell, I'm no snitch. And they were super cute. Like this big." Junpei held up a thumb and forefinger. "Ate like freaking hogs though. She was up all night feeding them. I'm surprised you didn't hear them. I wanted to bring one to school to hang out with me in my desk but she said no."

"Morons." Yukari's breath was fervent and desperate. She was fixing the fletching on an arrow. "They're both morons. Send help."

"Hey." Akihiko was low-tone as he dropped to a crouch near Shinjiro, glancing up in passing at the others to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "Everything okay?"

"Kink in my wrist." Shinjiro had slung his axe up against the dusk-colored wall behind him. Despite his complaint he was rubbing a rough thumb into the side of his knee, and Akihiko remembered that it had the tendency to stiffen up when it rained. "Some idiot got in the way of my fist earlier."

"Serves you right for cold-cocking me," Akihiko said. "Here, let me tape it up."

Shinjiro didn't protest as Akihiko dropped into a cross-legged position before him, extricating Shinjiro's wrist from the sleeve and digging into his inventory. He checked a few times to make sure the wrapping wasn't too tight before securing it with the elastic claw; he held onto it with one hand and ripped off a section of tape with his teeth to lay it over the claw for insurance. "You eat today?" Akihiko asked distractedly, squinting at Shinjiro's thumb and rotating it a bit to make sure it had the full range of motion.

Shinjiro didn't answer. When Akihiko looked up, he saw Shinjiro's eyes directly on him, dark and dry as drought. "What," Akihiko said.

"Fuck you, that's what," Shinjiro said. "You get those at Kurosawa's?"

"Yeah, like 'em?" Akihiko waggled his fingers so the icy edges of his knuckles caught the light. "Want me to pick you up something next time I go? I think he had another bus sign under there."

Shinjiro's laughter was a startled rasp. "Get me a car fender and I'll get into someone else's grill."

"Sunny side up, buttercups," Hamuko announced, jogging back from the corner. "Who wants to play?"

"Meee," Junpei said, as Aigis behind him said I would very much like to be sunny side up and also a buttercup. "C'mon, it's been forever. Lemme at 'em. Look at this bat, man. It's got freaking nails in it."

"I want a clean split tonight. One team for the boss, one team for the bulk of the exploration. I don't want anyone too tapped out with this weather."

"I thought we agreed we weren't calling them bosses," Yukari said. "This isn't a video game. It sounds stupid."

"What else are we supposed to call them? 'Guardians' make them sound like they're the good guys," Junpei said. "You got trash mobs and you got bosses, right? Let's just call it what it is."

"We've got five floors up, the sixth of which has the boss," Hamuko said. "If it's a turret, we're going to need Zio at our disposal. The Shadows have gotten pretty rough even without the boss – it'll take some muscle just to get there. I want to warm up the boss team with two floors, bring them down to rest as the other team cleans up the next three, and bring the first team back for the boss."

"Sounds like a lot of rummaging when you can just send ol' Junpei up there to mop up the deck," Junpei said. "How about you dish it out down here and I'll go up and let you know when it's clear?"

"Sure. I'll bring up a wet vac to sluice you off the floor." Hamuko was already looking at Akihiko as Junpei sputtered. "Can you anchor?"

"Already on it." He'd figured as much when she'd said Zio. Frankly he would've gotten pretty pissy not to be up against the boss himself after such a big deal had been made over it, so he was glad he wouldn't have to pull rank to force her hand. "We figuring on a Zio weakness for sure, then?"

"I think it's our best bet. It's what they're usually susceptible to." Hamuko pinched Ken's cheek, which he tolerated with the patience of a loaded pistol. "Ready to throw your weight?"

"If Takeba-san doesn't mind," Ken said politely. "I know she's more experienced at healing than me."

"Uh, no, I'm way past the point of showboating." Yukari didn't even look up from the stairs as she flapped her hand above her head. "You can have all that turret to yourself. I've got nothing to prove."

"I'm coming up," Shinjiro said unexpectedly from behind them. Akihiko half-turned in time to see Shinjiro grunt with effort as he leveraged himself off the floor. He swiped up his axe in transit, shaking out his wrist with a titan's casual strength. "Thing's got that much clout to throw, s'best I'm the one taking it," Shinjiro told Hamuko, gruff. "You know what I can take."

Akihiko fully expected Hamuko to argue on principle. Instead her head tilted, her topknot sliding over to brush the top of her shoulder as she fixed him with an assessing glance. "All your ducks in a box too?" she asked.

"Yeah," Shinjiro said simply. "I feel good."

"Let's warm you up, then." Hamuko swept her naginata up and propped it on her shoulder. "We'll be back," she told Mitsuru. "I'll take you and Aigis up in the middle so you can run your scans and get the data to Ikutsuki."

"Hey now wait a minute," Junpei said. "Since when do any of us get to say 'I'm coming up' and you just roll with that like it's a thing? Do we get to just bust in now whenever we want? Is this a rule change nobody told me about?"

"I like initiative," Hamuko said. "It shows a healthy can-do attitude. It's inspiring. I'm inspired right now."

"Screw you man, you are totally icing me because I stomped your Hitomi with Lei Fang again. Admit it,. This is revenge. You know I could totally take this thing. And you suck at combos."

"Revenge is served cold. I am however a raging flame of righteous justice and don't stoop so low." Hamuko pinched his cheek, then dug in reflexively when he slapped a palm against her forehead. They would have remained in a stalemate, alternately pinching and pushing, if Yukari hadn't heaved herself off the stairs and forcefully dragged Junpei away by his ear. "Your shoulder is still out of joint from our last boss fight," Hamuko said. "There will be fights I need you. A Zio-heavy fight isn't one of them. You'll get your turn to shine."

"I assume that is why I am on the exploration team instead of the 'boss battle'," Aigis said. "I would have very much liked to have keep you safe at your side. I regret that my weakness prevents me from doing so."

Hamuko yanked Akihiko and Shinjiro over like a very small plough horse. "Ken," she called, and Ken trotted over with palpable reluctance to be beside the two people he hated most on the planet. "Can you boost us?" Hamuko asked Aigis seriously. "A physical defense buff if you could. And an attack boost."

Akihiko watched Aigis brighten again slowly. "Please stand still," was all she said.

Akihiko's teeth itched as the spell rummaged around on his skin. By the time Aigis was finished he felt a little like a hamster in a plastic bubble. "Thank you," Hamuko told Aigis softly, sincerely. "It's not a weakness to have a weakness. It's human. Cherish it."

Aigis slowly nodded. Her gaze was locked on Hamuko's. "We'll be back," Hamuko called to Mitsuru again, and jogged to the waiting green of the transportation gate.

Akihiko caught Yukari's unexpected intensity on him as he passed by her on the stairs. Distracted by last minute preparations, he was a little taken aback and blinked a question at her. She only continued to follow his trajectory with her eyes, body bent forward to brace her chin atop her knee. She said nothing.

Kind of not sure what to do with it, he settled for throwing her a lame thumbs-up and moved on without waiting for her response. Whatever. In a day full of existential crises and head injuries, weird looks didn't draw a whole lot of blood.

He'd already resolved not to do it, but muscle memory betrayed him as he once again sought Mitsuru out at the gate. She'd already turned away from the group, on the floor with Fuuka as they went over the charts from the briefing table together in quiet tones. He knew she was aware of him by the way she'd turned her shoulder, hiding all but the curve of her ear to him, but otherwise she gave no indication she was paying attention to their departure at all.

Knowing he didn't deserve to feel one way or the other about it, Akihiko tried to keep his own engine warm as he queued up. They had a job to do and it didn't really require any of them to get along. The rest could wait. Two weeks could start tomorrow.

Then the coppery scent of Tziah on the other side of the gate jarred the rest of him into alignment, and he realized weirdly outside of everything else, I'm looking forward to this. This was what he'd hungered for in the abandoned lot and it didn't need a label or a prescription. Tartarus was his chance to shut down his doubts and prove that whatever else he was, this was a place where he still mattered. This space in his head. This place by Hamuko's side in a hellscape that masqueraded as a new world.

Polydeuces stirred awake in him for the first time since that afternoon, fat on seaboard lightning. I hope you're ready to come out swinging, Akihiko said.

Polydeuces' answering chuckle was the rumble of chariots. Akihiko waited until Ken had disappeared in front of him before enfolding himself into green, feeling it snap shut around him like jaws, and once again gave himself over to his storm.