AN: Mentions of sexual assault in the upcoming chapters.

At five in the morning, Aoyama found herself wide awake on her back, staring at the ceiling. She looked at the empty spot next to her, and wondered about what might happen in the next couple of hours.

"The arrest of Kazuki Fujisawa, who raped a girl yesterday. Or the murder of Kazuki Fujisawa."

She wished that she could get it out of her mind. She wished Sorata wouldn't have cared so much to make those faces yesterday. This might have been the first time Aoyama saw him that undeniably, genuinely angry.

"...I don't know...what I should feel," she muttered to herself.

Happy that he cares. Worried that he might get hurt. Sad because this situation happened. Guilty that Sorata had also been violated. By her. All four of those things at once.

"Sorata..."

She felt Mashiro snuggle up closer to her belly. She had an arm around her and was curled up, sleeping peacefully as if she were a cat. Aoyama's quiet out-loud thinking apparently nudged her awake too.

"Aoyama," she groaned, looking up at her body pillow. "Hello."

The brunette smiled. "Back to sleep now. It's not time to wake up."

A small grin emerged on her face as she watched Mashiro lose the battle to keep her eyes open. She couldn't help but imagine that she was her daughter, considering they were sleeping together like it was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe in another universe she would be, and Sorata would be her dad. One could only wish. One happy little family.

She rubbed her legs together for the twenty fifth time. She would have happily taken another shower the moment she woke up but resisted the urge for the sake of the girl next to her. And it was...unpleasant to say the least. The smell of sweat and stale air and kitchen detergent lingered in her nose, a smell that could only be overpowered by shampoo and soap. An animalistic fear shot through her entire body and she couldn't help herself.

Mashiro sprung up as quickly as Aoyama did when she leaned over the bed and vomited last night's cup ramen.

"Aoyama?!," she called. "Are you okay?"

She spat weakly. She gave a simple 'I'm fine' before hopping off the bed and cleaning up the mess with a wad of tissues.

"Do...you need water?," Mashiro asked. "Do you need a hug?"

"No. I am going to shower." A thought crossed her mind.

She nodded, not one bit surprised that Mashiro was practically stuck behind her. There was nothing but concern on Mashiro's face as she was idly washing her friend's back, up and down, up and down. Aoyama was hugging her legs and resting her forehead on the tiling of the shower corner, looking like a neglected pup in the shelter. She didn't even cover herself up in her usual embarrassed fashion when she turned around to return the favour.

"Aoyama?," Mashiro said, interrupting the sound of rushing water. She had her back turned to Aoyama now.

"Hm? What is it?," she replied.

"Do you have plans? Today?"

Now that she mentioned it, Aoyama managed to muster up a little bit of cheer from the fact that the next two days were off.

"Nope. No plans." She ran her fingers through Mashiro's hair, untangling knots and making sure it was smooth and clean.

"Umm..."

"I think I'll play a video game or something," Aoyama murmured.

"Oh. Okay."

"Giving up so soon?," Aoyama chuckled weakly. "Come on, what'd you wanna do? Breakfast date? Arcade? Movie?"

"No."

"So...what then?"

"Aoyama should stay here and play a video game," Mashiro said, nodding her head.

"Eh? I...don't understand?"

"You should stay here and play. You sound tired."

"I am pretty tired, but what'd you want to do?"

"I want to stay and play."

"No, before that Mashiro. Before I made the video games comment."

"What happened to your wrists?"

Aoyama's half asleep eyes shot open. She looked up at the naked Mashiro who was now towering over her with eyes as wide as hers and pupils the size of pinpoints.

"H-Huh?," she let out and looked down. There was purple, clear as day. "Oh. I...fell on my arms."

"You fell on your arms."

The tension between them was unbearable. For one of them, at least. She nodded, but it did little to erase the chilling stare in Mashiro's eyes. So much for feeling like Mashiro was her daughter. The blonde looked just about ready to murder someone. In her usual fashion, she turned around and ambled away but stopped when Aoyama called out to her.

"Mashiro! Where you going?"

"Outside."

She sighed. "Let me dry you off first. Goodness me...you weren't about to go downstairs naked were you?"

"I was."

"Mashiro...," Aoyama began as she began drying her off with a large towel. "You can't walk around naked like that."

"Why?," she deadpanned. The concept of shame was non-existent to her.

"Why? B-Because we're...girls. Ya' know? And if you're not careful something bad could happen to you."

"(Like what happened to your wrists...)," Mashiro mumbled in English. Aoyama perked up, understanding some of the words from her English class.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."


Sorata leaned against the metal railing of the two story apartment complex, glaring daggers at the door in front of him. If Aoyama was telling the truth, it was the home of her co-worker who saw the whole thing go down. Part of him wanted to punch her into the wall for not stepping in, and she probably knew it too.

Which was why she wasn't opening the door, he suspected.

"Mari? Mari Akiyama?," he called. "I know you're home. I just want to talk."

A sharp pang of guilt hit him in the throat when he knocked again and the sounds of muffled crying got even louder. He stood there for a while, still as a stone statue.

"What am I even doing...?," he thought, eyes now dropped to his hands. "I should just go up to Fujisawa and-"

"...who are you?"

The muffled voice snapped him out of his daze. "Kanda! S-Sorata Kanda."

"...sorata...," she sniffled. Her voice seemed moments away from letting out a scream.

"Aoyama. I'm her friend."

After a long back and forth, Sorata eventually got her to open the door. His eyes adjusted to the dark living area, the only source of light being the sunshine that leaked through the blinds. Although he didn't need much light to tell him that this girl has had a rough night. The place reeked of cheap 'drown out the guilt' beer and cigarettes. It felt kind of wrong for him to intrude on a such a place, but he had good reason to be there. Besides, this was as much as his problem as it was for Mari's.

He managed to wade through the litter on the floor and sit down on the couch, while Mari sat far away on the ground. Like he had a contagious disease.

"I'm sorry Kanda-san," she whimpered with her head in her hands. "I really am. I understand if you're here to hurt me. I deserve it. "

"It wasn't your fault," he said.

"Then...why're you here?," she asked weakly.

"To check up on you. We were worried sick."

"I'm sorry...it was all I could do. I should've called the police b-but I...but I...was afraid he would hurt me."

Sorata got up and knelt down in front of her. So much for proper introductions. This was the first time he got a proper look at Aoyama's friend. There was dried up mascara smeared on her cheeks from when she wiped her tears. Sorata could only imagine that there was once colour in her eyes, but they were hollow and lifeless. Like the colour escaped her with each repetitive loop of what she saw yesterday.

This was not the same girl that Aoyama showed him on her phone weeks prior. The vibrant, smiling woman with nothing but love in her eyes.

"Mari. Look at me."

She looked up, so choked up in her despair that she couldn't say a word. Her weeping got louder the moment Sorata leaned in to hug her, and the two of them stayed like that for a while. Mari let out all of her emotions on his shoulder, finding more solace in the embrace of another person than the strongest liquor she could find.

Deja vu. The same rollercoaster of emotions when Aoyama cried into his chest last night. Like they were crying the remnants of their faith in humanity into him.

"It wasn't your fault...it wasn't your fault," he consoled, stroking her unkempt hair. She clawed the back of his hoodie with desperate gasps like she was drowning in a sinking ship. The pain would still linger, even long after she had managed to breathe, in short hiccups two or three at a time.

"T-T-Tha..nk...*hic!...you...G-God...I-I-I sound...like a little...*hic!...bitch...," Mari managed to choke out.

"H-Hey...it's okay. I sound like that too sometimes...," Sorata replied. Mari let out a small chuckle before leaning back to compose herself.

"I-I-I should've gone back quicker...*hic!...I should've...I'm so fucking stupid Kanda-san. W-Why did I let her...go back to the studio by herself...?!"

"You can't blame yourself for everything."

"I knew something was wrong, I fucking knew! S-S-So I...she...in the closet..."

A part of Sorata died alongside her when she cried with the same despair of a mother who lost her child. He knew that the sound would be etched into his memory alongside Aoyama's, when he confronted Fujisawa. He wished he could rip his eyes out and-

"Argh...God...sorry!," she sighed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Sorata snapped out of his murderous trance, not realizing that Mari had managed to keep it together. At least for as long as he was present. "What are you, my counsellor? A-Anyway...um...right. Yeah, the video. My phone should be on the couch somewhere. Pin is 2352."

He walked over and began sifting through blankets and pillows and immediately the girl felt cold and lonely. She stood up with shaky knees.

"S-Sorata," she said just as he found the phone. "...are you gonna...you know. Watch...it?"

The sunlight was just bright enough for Sorata to make out his reflection in the black mirror of the smartphone. He felt like he was holding a detonator; a fragile thing that could make him regret pressing the play button.

"...if I have to," he croaked after a contemplative silence. "But I just want to get Aoyama the justice she deserves. If I can...without seeing her suffer then all the better."

Mari nodded. "Right. No-one should have to watch that. Add me to your contacts and I'll send it to you. I-It's pretty long so it'll take a while. Because you're not stupid enough to stay with me for longer."

"I've arranged a meeting with Fujisawa at nine o'clock," he explained quietly. Mari almost spilled the bottle of liquor she was pouring. "So...yeah. I've gotta get going."

"What? Why? Aren't you going to go to the police?," she asked worriedly.

"I don't know Mari. Aoyama said that he has blackmail footage. And that he'll ruin her life if he gets caught."

"So you're just gonna waltz up to that fucking rapist? What if he hurts you?"

Sorata felt the same feeling of rage as the night before. "...Aoyama can't get hurt. Not again. The least I can do is show him that he won't get away with this."

Mari could tell from the way his body tensed up. He was radiating a murderous aura, his desire to kill that he held back until he was face to face with the man. It was a deafening silence that was familiar to all humans who had a thirst for revenge.

"I'm just going to talk to him," he growled as he walked towards the door. "I'll leave you out of it."

"S-Sorata! Please...be careful."

He nodded. He shot her a final sympathetic look before opening the door, much to Mashiro's surprise.


For once, neither one of them seemed even a bit embarrassed when Sorata and Mashiro walked side by side, glued together like a couple. Part of it had to do with the fact that it was still early in the morning, when the air was still fresh with coldness from the lack of sunlight. But also because they weren't too sure about what was going to happen in the next hour.

They were in the wealthier parts of the neighbourhood where Fujisawa supposedly lived in.

"Did Aoyama send you?," Sorata asked, wrapping the scarf snug around her neck.

She shook her head. "I came here by myself."

"How'd you know where I was?"

"Your voice was really loud last night. So I listened outside the door and sort of heard everything."

"I...wasn't that loud," he grumbled. "Wait, does Hase know about it then?"

"...which was why I slept with Aoyama last night. Because...she's hurting," Mashiro admitted. There was not a tinge of guilt in her voice, only a sense of sombreness.

"Huh. Well...thanks for that Mashiro. She needs all the help she can get right now," Sorata said.

"I don't understand what happened. But I want to help. In any way."

"Mashiro...she was raped. Do you know what that means?"

She stopped walking and tilted her head in confusion.

"It's when...it's when someone has sex with you whether you want to or not," Sorata explained. As much as he fought, it was impossible for him not to see Aoyama's face scream in hopelessness with every inch of her being.

"I don't care. Aoyama's hurting. I'm gonna hurt whoever did this to her," she spoke. "We have our differences. But she's still my friend."

The kuudere had a talent for making Sorata feel invincible whenever she looked as serious as that. She began walking, absent of the child-like daydream wander that she usually did. She looked dead ahead with a purpose to her stride.

At least until Sorata told her she was going the wrong way.

"What will you do Sorata?," Mashiro asked. "Did you bring a knife?"

"What. No. No, I'm just going to talk to him."

"Why not? Aren't we going to kill him?"

"I...hope you're being sarcastic. To be honest Mashiro...I don't know what I'll do. I've never been in this situation before," he declared. "But I sure as hell am going to give him a piece of my mind."

"Your mind. Says. To kill."

Sorata was about to chastise the girl when they were suddenly shoved to the ground. Relief rushed through him when he saw that Mashiro wasn't hurt but it was short lived. He was frozen in place, body propped up with the back of his elbow, when he saw Kazuki Fujisawa extending a hand towards him.