Blood of the Lamb
A knock shouldn't invoke fear, yet this one did. Kirigiri, in the middle of raising a bottle of water to her lips, froze. The only part of her that moved were her pupils as she caught Asahina's eye. The two communicated silently. The bottle was set down and Kirigiri moved towards the door as Asahina casually walked into the middle of the room – between the occupied bed and the door. Kirigiri opened the door slowly, keeping most of her body behind it so that she could push back If someone attempted to force their way in.
Oily black hair glistened. At the sight of Ren, her shoulders loosened, and she signalled to Asahina it was okay. She couldn't see Ren well from this angle, but she could smell the food he carried.
"I would have brought a second plate if I had known you were here," Ren said. "I thought Naegi-kun would enjoy a hot meal. It's his favourites – what we thought was his favourites."
"Thank you." She took the plate. Although she didn't see Ren as a threat, she still blocked his way. Given how he craned his neck and tried to see past her, he didn't like that. However, he didn't voice any objections.
"How is he?" Ren whispered.
"He hasn't woken up yet."
"Oh. Do you. . .?"
"We'll manage."
"I understand." He did, Kirigiri knew that. But he was still human, and rejection always stung. His face sagged and his fingers pressed into his wrist, leaving angry red marks. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be kept updated."
It made sense, but she couldn't bring herself to agree. It was for the best that her hesitation was enough and words weren't needed.
It was best, too, that Ren didn't stick around. As brief as it was, the ruckus had been enough to rouse Komaru, who yawned widely and pulled the blanket closer. That, in turn, woke Hagakure who immediately pulled back. The two, eyes closed and unable to say anything intelligible, fought for custody of the blanket's warmth. Eventually, Komaru ended up laying across Naegi's chest. It was the straw that finally woke him.
"Makoto!" Asahina rose from her seat on the desk, having noticed Naegi's eyes flutter open.
Naegi didn't respond. His gaze flickered back and forth. His mouth was open in a pant and that combined with the shallow breaths meant something was wrong –
"Makoto?" Kirigiri said, also rising to her feet.
Naegi squirmed. His toes curled; his heels dug into the mattress as he tried to push himself up. A choked whine came from his throat. It sounded familiar and she. . . Wait. There was a reason this was familiar. She'd seen it before, back when . . .
"Komaru, get off him now!" she commanded.
Her order was heeded immediately, and Komaru rolled onto an unhappy Hagakure. The moment he was free of the weight, Naegi did what any trapped animal would do and bolted. That would have been fine, except he was on the edge of a bed. And so Naegi bolted straight into thin air, and then face-first into the floor.
Komaru scrambled to the edge of the bed and peered down at him. "Are you okay?"
With his face still pressed against the ground, Naegi arched his back and drew his legs in. He rolled back onto his heels. His spine pressed against the bed's bottom frame. With pupils so dilated that they nearly swallowed his irises, his stare locked on Kirigiri and Asahina. Slowly, Kirigiri raised her empty hands and dropped to a crouch.
"It's just us," she told him. "We're in your room."
His eyes flicked this way and that, taking note of every detail to verify her claim. They jumped from Asahina and herself to the comforter that had been knocked to the floor, to Komaeda's hoodie now hanging over the back of the desk chair after Kirigiri had reluctantly stopped Komaru from stuffing it in the trash. They returned to her afterwards, waiting.
"How are you feeling?" Kirigiri asked.
"Fine. I'm fine. Why are you asking?" he said. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"
Asahina held back a groan with his name. Komaru, however, had less control and blurted out, "Seriously?"
Naegi cringed. He scooted backwards until the lower half of his body was underneath the bed.
"Oh," he said simply. He was trembling slightly. It wasn't enough that anyone would normally notice, but Kirigiri had been looking for it, so she saw.
"Are you okay?" she asked again.
His eye twitched. His lip wobbled. His chest shrunk with an inhale and froze there. Nobody had the confidence to approach him, so he was alone when the first, muffled whimper escaped. It sounded like he was trying to hold it back, but such a task was impossible.
Komaru flopped over the side of the bed and sat beside him. They all waited for him to break down, but instead he remained in that quasi-crying state, always on the brink of tears but never quite reaching it. Finally, Kirigiri, wanting to break the tension somehow, passed him one of the water bottles. Naegi crawled out from under the bed and took it. He gulped down half the contents before coming for air.
Naegi glanced back at the bed. "Komaru, do you always hog the blankets?"
"Huh? W-well, it's your fault! You always give me the smaller half even though I need it more than you."
"That's because I'm the oldest," Naegi said monotonously. With a sigh he climbed back over the side of the bed. It looked like it required more effort than it should have. "Hagakure-kun, move over."
"Uh, sure," Hagakure said. "What do you. . .?"
"I'm tired. I'm going back to sleep." As Naegi crawled underneath the covers, he realized he still had the water bottle. He muttered a quick thanks to Kirigiri and then let it roll off the mattress. It hit the ground with a sad plop.
Everyone, but Naegi, looked at her. Kirigiri frowned. "All right. We'll give you some privacy."
Obviously, they didn't want to. But Naegi had already flopped onto his back and was staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. Staying felt wrong. Like it would open a door that should be left shut. Hagakure moved first, getting off the bed as carefully as he could so that he wouldn't disturb Naegi. Asahina followed him out the door. Komaru was slower to follow, staring mournfully at her brother, before she, too, departed.
As Kirigiri opened the door, Naegi said, "So, that happened."
She hesitated. The others were watching her from outside, waiting. She apologized to them silently and shut the door again, leaning against it afterwards in case someone read the situation wrong and tried to get back in.
"How are they?" Naegi did not say names, but the way he pronounced that last word made it clear whom he was referring to.
Kirigiri repeated the question aloud, buying time. Naegi was sharp. She couldn't avoid answering. She didn't know how he'd react to the truth, for he was staring at the ceiling, emotionless. He looked like a man on death row waiting for his number to be called.
"I haven't spoken to them recently," she lied.
"Ah." So, they're alive, he didn't say.
She tiptoed closer. It was true that Naegi had told them to leave just a minute ago, but she believed he had called out to her for a reason. "Are you okay? Tell me the truth."
"I'm alive," Naegi said. "Everyone's alive. It was crazy to think I had a chance."
She carefully controlled her expression. It wouldn't do any good for Naegi to realize the truth, that he could have killed Kamukura. Not only because Naegi was unpredictable, but because Kamukura would have let him.
"Togami-kun always insulted me in school and I still hung out with him," Naegi murmured. "Asahina-san even asked if I was a masochist. I must be, huh? I chose the three worst people on the island to go after. . ."
"Three?" Her inner thoughts screeched to a halt. Urgently, she rewound her memories to yesterday, and looked for each class's members in them. She had seen them all alive, hadn't she?
"Well, I only made a move on two of them and I wasn't planning the third. . ." Naegi said. "But it would have happened eventually, especially after I failed. That's the logical conclusion. The stalemate couldn't last forever."
"Who are you talking about?" Kirigiri asked.
Naegi stared up at her wide-eyed like she was an angel descending from heaven. He swallowed.
And she knew. She clenched her stomach, trying to crush the chill threatening to spread and consume her body. She needed to relax. He wouldn't be telling her if he intended to try.
(Unless, of course, she was already caught in the trap and he was monologuing.)
"I didn't want to. I never thought about it. But at some point, you would have stepped in to stop me. And I would have killed you for it," he said.
"You knew. For how long?"
"Only now," Naegi said. "It's so obvious now. . . It's like I woke up in a new world, and I don't belong here."
"That isn't true." She forced herself to get over that last bit of hesitation and sit on the end of the bed. "Everyone is here because of you. This is your story."
"Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. . ." He cackled bitterly and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes,. "Why are you here? Just put me on a lifeboat and send me out to sea before I change my mind and decide to kill everyone again. Get rid of this stupid trash so someone useful can take this room."
What was this? Naegi, in their school days, always had self-esteem issues, but they were never this bad. On the contrary, he'd only grown prouder after they'd escaped the school. He sounded like. . .
Oh. He sounded like Komaeda.
"You're not useless. How can you think that after all the good you've done?"
"Did," he stressed. "It's past tense. It's meaningless."
"That's like saying I'm no longer worthy of respect because it's been a couple of years since I solved a murder," she said wryly.
"That's not the same," he said. "You're still the Ultimate Detective."
"I'm the same person, yes, as are you –"
He moved faster then she could have imagined, clamping onto her arm. Her flesh went white as his nails dug in.
"What Hope," he snarled, "gives into despair twice?"
He wrenched his arm away. A small bead of blood lay where his too-sharp thumbnail had been. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, like he was trying to crush his ribcage.
"Go away. Leave me alone." He rolled away from her. "Go!"
He hadn't even gotten out the last word before the weeping started. He curled into a ball, knees against his forehead.
Oh, Naegi. . . She wanted to reach out to him, but she didn't know how he would react to physical touch. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know how. Despite everything she knew about his time with Ultimate Despair, she couldn't fool herself and pretend she understood what he had lived through. What Naegi had suffered was insurmountable – a situation that only an Ultimate could bear.
It wasn't often she felt truly helpless.
But Naegi always had a way of surprising her.
The twilight was over. His evil minions took pleasure in it; they groomed their immaculate coats in the golden light, refreshed and prepared for the next battle. But their Dark Lord did not share their contentment. Great bags lay under his eyes, for he had been entranced during the witching hours by a vision. A voice had whispered in his ear and it had spoken truth –as the best devils did.
The coven was dying. His brothers and sisters had forgotten the oaths they'd made to the demoness. For another had appeared, a fair-hearted siren who weaved a trap with a soft lullaby. In time, the song had washed away the laws handed down by Her. The others were succumbing, casting down their arms to prostrate themselves before a new lord.
But Tanaka still remembered. She who had unzipped his human shell to reveal a beast with bloody teeth – he remembered. And last night, her haunt had risen before him like a flame. She was with him now, lurking in the peripheral of his sight, skittering away whenever he tried to focus on Her. Her silent scrutiny was awe-inspiring. Horrifying. Her claws reached inside his skin, curled around his ribs and squeezed.
Tanaka stretched until his shoulders popped and then wiped his brow. The demoness's presence had set the room ablaze. The Devas squealed in delight when he sloughed off his jacket and set it aside. They dove into the sleeves, drawn by instinct to dark, cramped spaces that reminded them of Hell. He watched them, proud as a god with his children.
His stomach suddenly convulsed. A reminder – a warning – from the menace lurking in his shadow. His flesh shivered. His mortal heart raced so quickly that his head pounded.
He (he alone, She reminded him with a purr and a puff of hot air on the back of his neck) must atone. For it was his fault the flock had gone astray. He had taken these weary mortals under his wing and thus, bore responsibility for their transgressions. The demoness demanded penitence. She would not be patient. He had allowed heresy to take root, and so he must be the one to perform the rites.
A sacrifice must be made. An offering, something sacred, to prove his devotion.
Cham-P, the most ferocious of his beasts, chittered warily as Tanaka stared at the shiv poking out from underneath his mattress. The demoness's shadow finally came into focus and beckoned him onward.
A sacrifice must be made.
