Against all expectations, Sena was allowed to finish it all, or at least, he wasn't stopped, not even when his fork clicked against the bottom of the bowl. Keeping an eye on his master, he delicately scraped up the last few grains of rice, but decided it was too risky to lick up the sauce.

Hiruma seemed engrossed with his phone, occasionally typing something rapidly with his thumbs and then cackling evilly. Maybe it was only in his distraction that he'd allowed Sena to eat so much. Maybe when he realized that it was all gone, Sena would be in for it. The meal turned into a ball of lead in Sena's stomach, but he tried to calm himself with the thought that he'd come expecting punishment. To have gotten an actual meal out of it was nothing but a bonus, really.

All too soon, Hiruma put the phone away and leaned forward, letting all four of his chair legs rest back on the floor. "All right, shrimp," he said, and Sena nodded to show he was listening, even as he clutched his hands together in terror. "You're fed, you're clean, you need to take a leak before we start?"

His earlier dread came back to him in a flood. Whatever Hiruma had in mind, Sena definitely wasn't ready to start. He considered if he could possibly delay the inevitable by going to the bathroom, but he wasn't sure if it was a real offer. Instead, he shook his head, too terrified to speak.

"Your previous owners," his current owner began.

Hiruma wanted to know what he was good for, Sena guessed, and resolved to make himself sound useful by any means possible. He didn't kid himself that it would save him from whatever pain Hiruma had in mind for him, but maybe at the end, Hiruma might decide not to kill him, if he had some long-term value.

"Did they ever play you in a team?"

What few pitiful examples of his own usefulness Sena had managed to gather now fell apart in the face of his confusion.

"A sports team," said Hiruma impatiently.

It wouldn't do to look too incredulous. If his master looked at his pathetic body and saw some cannon fodder for whatever sport he had in mind, Sena had to show willing.

It must not have worked, because Hiruma gave a pleased little smirk. "Good, no one will have seen you, then. Where did you learn to run?"

Sena choked, and found he couldn't get an answer out. If he'd thought he could sell his master on his good points, he was fooling himself. Hiruma had met him as a runaway. A flight risk slave wasn't useful for anything that didn't involve being chained down—

When Hiruma's hand slammed down on the table, shockingly loud, Sena became aware that he'd been babbling pitifully, begging pleas and promises he couldn't hope to deliver. Distantly, Sena thought he should be grateful he was too far away to get hit instead of the table. For now. He put his hands over his mouth to stopper the flow of nonsense. His master had already judged him. It was over.

"I meant," said Hiruma slowly, "how did you learn to run so fast?"

For a moment the words didn't resolve into any meaningful question besides the deadly one, and Sena panicked that he wasn't going to be able to understand what he was being asked, much less answer it.

His master leaned back in his chair again, and began to study the ceiling, and for some reason it helped, not to have the full intensity of that terrible gaze directed right at him.

"I, um, I had some practice?"

"How?"

Sena hadn't expected that to be the right answer, much less to be pressed on it. He looked down at his clenched hands. "I, I had an owner, who liked to play, um, this game? He would have me run, and try to chase me. Obviously I was on his property the whole time, the woods were fenced in, I wasn't really running to get away, master!" Sena looked up, but Hiruma was still staring at the ceiling, looking unconcerned. "Um, but sometimes if I managed to outrun him, I wouldn't be... I mean he still could do whatever he wanted, but I think he wanted to encourage me to run faster, for the game, so, sometimes he'd let me get away, and I wouldn't be hurt that day, so I... guess I tried really hard."

The scrape of a chair pushing back from the table startled him out of dark memories.

"All right, we're done." Hiruma pulled off his apron and beckoned. "Come on."

That's right, they weren't going to sit here talking forever. Sena found that his arms were trembling violently, and he clutched his opposite elbows, as though they might shake right off if he didn't. It was finally going to happen now. Whatever Hiruma had wanted a disposable nobody slave for, it was time to find out.

"Don't open any closed doors here," his master said as they walked, though it hardly needed saying.

"Yes, master."

"But especially not this one." They passed a door with a huge, heavy deadbolt that seemed out of place indoors. The deadbolt was secured with a padlock, but the key was hanging right from the lock. The hinges on the opposite side looked a little loose, as though the door had been slammed and shaken, heavily, repeatedly.

Definitely not a door that Sena planned to open. "Yes, master."

Hiruma studied him briefly, then moved on. When they exited out into a yard, for a second Sena thought that he was still stuck in his memories. But there was no forest here, just grass and pavement, and exercise equipment, and what seemed to be a shed in the distance, the same fence from the front of the house enveloping it all.

"See those red lines?"

Sena found two painted red lines on the pavement, a close one and a far one, and nodded.

"On my count, I want you to run from this one to that one, like your fucking life depends on it."

"Yes, master," said Sena, who had a really bad feeling about this.

"So get to the line, shrimp."

As Sena jumped to do so, Hiruma picked up a stopwatch hanging from a convenient nail on the outside wall, and pushed a button. "Ready? Go!"

Sena didn't know what else to do. He took off.

Physically, he was better off than he'd been in a long time. He had eaten, his injuries were tended, and he even had shoes on: stiff with newness, but cushioning his every stride. By the time he got to the opposite line, he actually felt a little refreshed from the short dash, from getting to stretch his legs, and breathe the fresh air, and revel in the relative painlessness of it all.

Then he turned, and saw his master's face.

The fresh air choked out of his lungs, and it suddenly became difficult to inhale more.

"Come back," said Hiruma, and Sena had no choice but to obey, though he knew he was walking to his slaughter. "What the fuck was that? You were faster half naked this morning. All that food slowing you down?"

"I'm sorry." Sena hugged his arms to his chest. "I'm really sorry."

"Your other owner, the one that liked to chase you," Hiruma's voice lowered dangerously. "What did he do to you if he caught you?"

"Master, please," Sena all but sobbed. He had known this was coming, but it somehow felt worse now, like he could have avoided it if he had just run fast enough. New and old nightmares collided, and the only constant was the terror thrumming in his veins.

Hiruma pointed to the first line again. "Imagine that he's chasing you. Now do it again."

This time Sena truly ran like his life depended on it, because he knew that it did. He got to the opposite line and wanted to keep going, but made himself stop, stumble back to the start. He was too terrified to look at his master's reaction, but Hiruma only said, "Better," and waved him back inside.

"Not there yet, by a long shot," he added, as he closed off the sun and fresh air behind them. "But, better."