Shion was conflicted. He felt that leaving Nezumi alone in the room was the right thing to do, but common sense told him that he had already tried the trusting thing and it almost backfired.

When Hamlet woke him up and alerted him to Nezumi's disappearance, he had been furious. It was mostly self-directed rage at having been so reckless.

Really, what was I expecting? Nezumi's a hostage. If I were in the same position, I would've tried running too. He knew he should've restrained Nezumi before he went to sleep. He never should've cut him loose in the first place. But he had been lenient. He let his emotions muddle his judgment.

When he was sent to retrieve an important elite, he had not expected to find a boy his age, and certainly not one who looked so nonthreatening. However, he had a job to do, and No. 6 was the enemy no matter what face it wore. But as the day progressed, and he watched Nezumi flounder to answer questions and bristle at Yoming's threats, Shion became more and more unsure about whether he was the enemy. It seemed that the other boy was just another angry and confused victim of the Holy City's tyranny.

Even now he didn't think he was wrong, but he had been wrong to underestimate Nezumi's survival instinct. The teen had seen his weakness and took advantage of it to escape, and if it hadn't been for the mice, the dog, and most especially Safu's help, Shion could have been executed. Up until they had found Nezumi, he had been filled with fear and self-loathing, because he had been stupid enough to let a moment of compassion dictate his fate.

He had been determined to drag Nezumi back and restrain him, as he should've done from the start. But once he'd caught up to the teen, all his own anger and panic had been eclipsed by the sheer intensity of Nezumi's desperation.

You're just like No. 6.

Those words had sent a pang through him, and his chest was still throbbing from the impact. That's not how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to be the good guys. No. 6 was a virus, and it was their job to exterminate it for the good of everyone it ever hurt. He was sure that the Holy City was wrong. But then why did Nezumi's accusation hit him so hard?

It had made him angry to hear those words. How dare he compare them? Nezumi didn't know how difficult it was to pick up the pieces after the Hunt two years ago. He didn't know how hard they had to work every single day and how little they got for it. He was just a spoiled, pampered No. 6 citizen. He couldn't possibly understand what it was like to wake unsatisfied, to feel the weight of injustice bearing down on him and be powerless to stop it.

But then he looked into those grey eyes flashing with anger, he remembered how confused Nezumi looked when Yoming demanded answers from him he did not know, and Shion thought to himself, maybe he does know how it feels. Nezumi had lived his whole life in No. 6. He despised it, and he looked at Shion and what his life had built up to in the last year, and said they were the same. And that shook him. It resonated with a fear he had tried to suppress, but that had been growing steadily louder since the day he joined the Resistance: they had gone wrong somewhere.

He stopped and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. This is not good. I can't be having these thoughts. These kind of half-hearted feelings are what get people killed.

"Shion!" Shion's head shot up, and he took note of a man coming toward him.

"Yamase." He cleared his throat. "Good morning."

The older man fell in beside him and smiled slightly. Despite his bleak mood, Yamase was a welcome sight. He was four years Shion's senior and one of the few people he could call a friend.

"Everything alright?"

Shion dropped his hands and tried to appear more at ease. "Yeah," he said, injecting a bit of energy into his voice. "Everything's fine."

Yamase nodded, taking the words at face value. That was Shion's favorite thing about him. He was considerate enough to ask such questions, but tactful enough not to push the issue if you'd rather not discuss it. His discretion was probably the reason why Yoming allowed him to work within the inner ring of their group, despite the fact that the man wasn't skilled in any particular area.

"Are you heading to work?" Shion asked.

"Yeah. Aren't you?"

Shion smiled. That was a good sign; if Yamase was only heading to work now, that meant that he would not be late, and Yoming would not have a reason to think anything had gone amiss. Shion found himself cheering up.

"Anything happen while I was absent yesterday?"

"Mm… No. Nothing outside the usual. Though, that may have more to do with how pissed the Boss was when he came down. Everyone was so tense, we barely got anything done."

"…Is that so? I'm sorry. That must have been hard."

Yamase shrugged. "It's not your fault. You know the Boss. Sometimes he's just not in a good mood. And Kaze's prodding didn't help."

Shion nibbled his lip and cast a sidelong glance at Yamase. Even if he couldn't have known the specifics, he must have been curious, but he was acting as though he was none the wiser.

I wonder if he ever has doubts… But he stopped that train of thought before he could run away with it. I have to pull myself together. This is no time to have a moral crisis. They lapsed into silence for the rest of the walk to headquarters.

Once they passed through the doors, it was apparent that something had happened. A crowd had accumulated in the center of the room, and several people were talking in excited voices. Shion spotted Safu hovering on the edge of the group. He nodded to Yamase and made his way to her side.

"What's going on?"

Safu glanced at him. "I just got here a little while ago, but apparently there was some kind of fight with the Disposers this morning. One of our men was shot."

Shion peered into the center of the crowd. Two men and a woman were pleading their case to Yoming in livid voices.

"He weren't even doin' nothing but defending the cause!"

"They can't get away with this. We need to strike back!"

"They're gathering weapons! We need to destroy them before they get any stronger!"

Yoming listened calmly to their outbursts.

"I understand your distress," he said once they had finished, "and I'm sorry for Yoshi's death. He was a good man and a loyal soldier. His service will not go unacknowledged. You have my word." The men and woman's faces turned solemn. "However," he continued, his voice growing firm. "We will not attack the Disposers."

Angry and astonished protests erupted from the crowd. Yoming weathered the barrage of demands and complaints for a few seconds before he pronounced in a booming voice, "The Hunt is coming!"

A hush descended over the crowd.

"The Hunt is coming," he repeated with gravity. "And we all know what that means." His eyes skimmed over his audience, before finally settling on the chief complainants. "I understand your frustration with the Disposers—you know I do. But we've worked too hard these past few years to get distracted by petty turf disputes and personal vendettas. It is more important than ever that we citizens of West Block stand united, comrades. No. 6 doesn't care if you're Resistance or Disposer, old or young, man, woman, or child. We're all vermin to them. They don't see us as a threat. They think they can come down here, kill our families, steal our children, and we'll have no choice but to take it. But not this time."

Murmurs of assent rose from the audience. Yoming fed on it, his voice growing in a passionate crescendo. "We have supplies, we have numbers, but most of all, we have a cause worth fighting for. We can win, comrades, but we must stay focused on the true enemy: No. 6."

A few hearty cheers burst from the crowd, and still more nodded in vigorous approval. Shion swallowed.

The corner of Yoming's mouth quirked slightly in acknowledgement of the enthusiasm. "Do not approach the Disposers. Save your strength for the battle ahead."

The men and woman pleading retribution for their fallen friend took this order with mixed acceptance. They didn't seem wholly satisfied, but the fire in their eyes had dulled. There wasn't a person in the room who doubted the authority of Yoming's words.

"Bit hypocritical, coming from the guy who started it with the Disposers," Safu muttered. Shion peered at her and noted the sobriety of her expression.

Yoming placed a hand on the shoulder of the nearest complainant and offered a second apology to the group for their loss. He deferred them to a woman at his side with an explanation that she would help them with the funeral arrangements. The people began to disperse, chattering amongst themselves.

Yoming parted from the group and his dark eyes speared Shion almost immediately.

"Well, look who's here." He grinned without warmth. "Did you take care of your business?"

Shion covered his uneasiness with a shrug. "I did, thank you."

"So I take it we won't have any more trouble? Your absence yesterday was sorely felt. I'd hate for you to miss another day." Yoming's tone was congenial, but Shion could feel the gazes of a few of the more observant and nosy members on them.

"I don't think that'll be a problem. I've taken care of it, so I can come to work as usual. I appreciate you being so understanding." Shion bowed his head, hoping the older man would read it as submission. "I'm sorry if I harmed the group's productivity. I'll work harder in the future to make up for it."

"Good. That's good." Yoming adjusted the superfibre shawl about his shoulders. "I'm glad to hear you're so dedicated to the cause, because I have a task that I wanted you to help me with. They're shorthanded with rations today. I need you to go help hand them out."

Shion kept his head bowed in case his expression betrayed anything. Handing out rations was a job given mostly to new recruits and the lowest ranking members. That being said, Shion was not a big fan of hierarchy and he felt no shame picking up the slack in areas where help was needed—he was often one of the first to volunteer whenever the request was put to the group. However, volunteering was one thing, being told to do menial work was another.

"Sure, I'd be happy to."

Shion raised his head and looked Yoming directly in the eye as he spoke. He was one of the few who could do this, and likely the only one who did so frequently. He let an edge of his nervousness show through, though, so that Yoming would see this act as obedient acceptance and not a challenge.

The older man grinned. "Much obliged. You go too, Safu," he added as a matter of course.

Safu's mouth popped open, but she quickly brought her face back into neutral and murmured a "Yes, sir." The two teens left the room without another word or glance.

"Sorry about that," Shion said once they were outside and on their way to the market.

"It's fine. I'm used to it. Guilt by association and all that."

"Well, I guess, but doesn't it ever bother you? You're a good soldier: you do what's asked of you and you're really good at it, but you're always getting penalized because I can't agree with Yoming." He sighed. "Sometimes I feel like you'd be better off if you just cut ties with me altogether."

"Oh please." Safu rolled her eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic. I couldn't care less what Yoming does to me. And besides, I couldn't cut ties with you even if I wanted to, because I don't want to be indirectly responsible for your death. Because let's face it, you wouldn't last one week without me around. You owe me a lifetime of debts for saving your butt." Safu arched an eyebrow at him. "On second thought, you're right. I don't get anywhere near the amount of thanks and appreciation I deserve."

"I know. But—and maybe it's selfish of me to say—but even though I know joining the Resistance wasn't your first choice, I'm glad you're here with me. You've always stood by me and I'm thankful for that."

Safu bit her lower lip and averted her face. Shion beamed at her profile. She had always been pretty to him, but having known her since they were toddlers, he was able to see that her once girlish features were smoothing out into a delicate and refined femininity. Some of the other men had expressed distaste at the androgynous aspect of her short hair, but Shion thought the style suited her well.

Safu huffed. "Quit grinning at me like a dope already."

He chuckled softly. "Sorry."

"So, what'd you end up doing with that rat?"

Shion felt his face heat up despite his desperate attempt to quell the anxiety building in his stomach. It was useless to lie to Safu. Even if his body language hadn't already given him away, she would know the truth the minute he opened his mouth. I'm just gonna have to say it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

"I left him in the room."

"Shion."

He came to a halt as a hand closed gently, but firmly, around his wrist. He hadn't realized it, but he had sped up and was now standing with his back toward Safu. He sucked in a breath and turned. His friend's dark eyes bored into his.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing bad. I just… left him in there."

"'Left him in there'? Meaning what? You just ushered him into your room, wished him a good time, and came to work? Is that what you mean by 'left him in there'?"

"Not really..." The color drained from Safu's face. "But yeah."

"Shion." She dropped his wrist. "Shion, you can't just— And after this morning— I can't believe you, I really can't."

Shion had been expecting anger, but the pain and disappointment on Safu's face was far worse. "I know it sounds bad, but I talked with him, and I think it'll be okay. He'll stay in the room, I'm almost sure—"

"He's dangerous! He's not some docile, pampered No. 6 idiot. You can't underestimate him. I did, and he was able to stop my knife."

"He stopped your knife? Really?" He recalled the night before when Nezumi lunged at him. He had been quick, surprisingly so, despite his injuries. But to stop Safu's knife, he must be faster than I thought.

"Like I said, I was caught off guard. But that just proves my point. I didn't see him as a threat, and I was put in a bad position. If I wasn't fast myself, he might've hurt me. But you're not as good at close quarters as I am, so you need to take this seriously and really think about—" Suddenly Safu's eyes widened. "Wait. Don't you have a ton of guns in your house?"

Shion blinked. Oh yeah. He had almost forgotten. A month or so ago they had gotten a new shipment of supplies and he had agreed to stow a few rifles away.

He put his hands out defensively. "Now, Safu, I know what you're going to say, but hear me out."

"Shion, you stupid—! You said—you promised—you were going to be more careful! And what do you do? You leave him unattended and untied in a room full of guns! How can you be such an idiot!"

"Ah!"

Safu punched him hard in the shoulder and he felt the pins and needles all the way down to his fingertips.

"They aren't loaded!" Shion exclaimed, drawing away from her. "Do you really think I'd be that irresponsible? I only have one loaded gun."

Compulsively, he reached down and felt the spot where his pistol was holstered between his waistband and hip. After confirming its presence, he reached out to Safu and started to say something, but she silenced him with a look.

"I already know what you're going to say, and I've known you long enough to realize that once you're set on something, it doesn't matter how many appeals to logic I make. He's your responsibility; you handle it however you want. The only thing I ask is that you be careful. You can manage to keep that promise at least, can't you?"

"Yes, of course."

"That's fine, then. We don't need to talk about this anymore."

Shion felt a wave of guilt wash over him, but it was mingled with a heavy dose of relief, so he let the matter drop. They began to walk again, merging seamlessly with the crowd as they entered the market.

Downtown West Block was bustling at any given time, but on ration day, the streets turned to murder—sometimes in the literal sense. Shop keepers and stall owners called out to passerby with more gusto, hoping to net customers made amenable to their suggestions by the weight of food in their hands. Scruffy children and carefully made-up women slinked in the shadows, waiting with practiced patience for the right mark to walk by. It was an atmosphere every West Block resident knew well, and that was to say it was one in which no one felt completely comfortable.

Safu and Shion reached a slightly wider section of street. The Resistance worked out of two stalls, which were situated in front of the group's favorite bar. The owner of the establishment was a member herself, so it made the process easier. The representatives of Resistance-affiliated families would line up, and one by one they approached the counter to collect their food. The ration recipients rotated weekly. Although Yoming had good connections, it was impossible to provide every member and his family with food each week.

That being said, the families of the members who performed more dangerous tasks, or who were high ranking and put a lot of time and effort into the cause, were rewarded with more portions. As core members directly under Yoming, Safu and Shion were allowed to take rations every week. The only other way to get more food was to donate a larger amount of money than what was required for tithe.

Shion watched a man take a name down at the stall and motion for a younger girl to fetch the food from inside the bar. The people in line were up to the usual jostling and leering, but it wasn't out of control. He identified a few new members standing off to the side by their gold bandanas. They were leaning against the wall and staring out at the crowd with bored expressions.

Shion tilted his head and addressed one of them. "You're not working?"

The girl straightened her posture as he approached. "Comrade Shion, and Comrade Safu. Good morning." They nodded in greeting. "They have enough people working the desks and delivering the food, so us younger members were put on crowd control."

"So you're not understaffed?" Safu asked.

"No…" the girl said slowly. "If anything, we're overstaffed."

Shion and Safu exchanged a look. Shion thanked the girl and told her to keep up the good work.

"Well, this is humiliating," said Safu after they had moved away from the crowd.

"It's not so bad. My only concern is what we're supposed to do now. Yoming obviously doesn't want us around."

It would be best not to return to headquarters for at least a few hours, if at all. He was sent here to prove a point, and in order to communicate that the lesson was learned he had to lay low for a bit. It didn't matter that Yoming's punishment was petty. There was no use in drawing out the bad blood between them.

Safu shrugged. "Let's collect our rations. We can eat while we reflect on the error of our ways."

Shion felt the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile. They circumvented the line and walked straight into the bar to collect their share of food. They each received a brown bag that contained the following: a packet of salt, crackers, half a loaf of bread, a pouch of rice, nuts, and beans. These were the staples of the rations, however, some weeks a specialty item was thrown in. As they exited the building, Shion peeked into the bag to check if this were a lucky week. He brightened at the sight of an apple sitting neatly on top.

"But my husband was part of the Resistance. Lloyd? Someone must have known him."

A keening voice rose above the noise and Shion's attention was drawn to a woman at one of the ration stalls. She was wringing her hands as the member manning the desk shook his head.

"You're not in the register. Step aside."

"He was dedicated to the cause for two years! Aren't I entitled to something?" She was becoming quite hysterical, and both the man and those in line behind her looked disgusted.

"Do you have money for the tithe at least?" droned the man behind the desk. "We might be able to give you something, but only if you pay the tithe."

"No, I don't, but I could—"

"If ya got no money and yer not in the register, you don't get no food," growled the man behind her. He elbowed her to the side and took her place in front of the stall. The woman gnawed her fingernails and watched as the man placed ten copper coins on the table.

Shion had seen people like her many times. They came around every week when rations were being distributed, hoping to beg some food or snatch morsels when they thought no one was looking. They tried any ploy, real or embellished, to get the food they so desired. The less experienced ones often made the mistake of lying about having relations in the Resistance, but all the members in charge of handing out rations were required to check the group register before giving away food. The register was constantly and meticulously edited; it was nearly impossible to fake legitimacy.

Although, he didn't think this woman was lying about her husband. Her cries sounded genuinely anguished, so Shion wondered if she might have just recently caved in to desperation.

"Please…" She wandered toward the members standing off to the side on crowd control. "I don't even need a whole ration, just a pack of crackers would be fine. Just enough for my child."

She made the mistake of reaching out and touching one of the member's arms, and he shook her off roughly. Shion winced as the woman stumbled to the ground. She sucked in a ragged breath, head swiveling from side to side as people sidestepped her.

"Please," she whimpered.

And then her glassy eyes locked onto Shion's. He felt his heart leap, and quickly averted his gaze.

"We need to go."

Safu, whose attention had also been drawn to the woman, seemed to share his agitation, and they hurried toward the crowded street.

"Shion! Comrade Shion!" the same keening voice called from not too far behind him. His stomach somersaulted.

Safu placed a hand on his elbow. "Don't turn around."

"She knows me."

"Everyone knows you. Keep walking. We'll lose her in a minute."

Shion's coat snagged on something as Safu tried to herd him through the throng. He looked down. A small boy had latched onto him. His face was pitifully thin, and Shion had seen enough similar cases to know that the child was malnourished. He was gripping something in his free hand, but Shion couldn't break away from the sight of the boy's lusterless eyes to see what it was.

"Shion," Safu urged. "Shake him off already, she's—"

"Comrade Shion!"

The beggar woman had caught up to them. She slowed when she saw the child, who looked up at her in return. The woman's face went white.

"Jeremy..." She swiped at her eyes. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay home." The boy turned away and stared down at the ground.

This child is hers, then? Shion shifted uncomfortably and the woman gave a small gasp.

"Oh, I'm sorry about my son. Jeremy, let go of his jacket. Come now." She reached down and pried his bony fingers away, pulling him against her hip. "I'm sorry if he disturbed you."

"It's fine," he mumbled, turning away.

"It's only that he's hungry!" she blurted, making a swift move to stand beside him. Shion flinched back at the earnestness of her words and tried to look away, but his eyes found her child's sullen face, which was turned up at him. He hummed under his breath and stared at the bag in his arms.

"We're sorry about that, but we can't help you." Shion felt his face grow hot with shame as Safu stepped to his rescue. "You have to wait in line over there to get your rations."

"Yes, of course, but… Well…" She raised her hand to her mouth to bite at her already ragged nails, but caught herself at the last second and let it drop to her side. She stroked the top of her son's head with her other hand. "There seems to be a mistake. My husband was in the Resistance, but he passed away two months ago and we haven't received any food."

Safu frowned. "He died in service?"

"An accident. In the bar." She tilted her head toward the building where the rations were housed. "But Lloyd was a member, so we should still be on the register for this week. He only passed two months ago, and we're supposed to get six months notice, so—"

"That's not right." Safu cut her off before she got too excited. "If he didn't die in service, you're not entitled to reparations."

"What?"

Shion sucked in a breath and began to explain, "If a member dies outside of the line of work, it's treated as—" He was going to say "negligence on their part" because that was the way Yoming always phrased it, but he couldn't bear to say that to the woman in front of him. She was so weak and pale; it looked like the smallest of shocks would shatter her. So, instead he backtracked and said, "We compensate the families of those who lose their lives under orders out of respect for their sacrifice, but we can't possibly provide for every family that has lost someone to sickness or accident. Even if we wanted to, we just don't have the resources. Please understand..."

"But my husband was dedicated to the cause for two years." Her voice was faint.

Suddenly, the child, who up until that moment had been staring into the distance, reached his hand out to Shion. There was something balled up in his tiny fist, which it seemed he wanted him to take. Shion hesitated, but the boy's pitiless stare compelled him to accept. A snatch of fabric was placed in his palm. It was filthy with dirt, but he could still see spots where the gold showed through. It was without a doubt one of the bandanas issued to Resistance members. At the sight of it the woman covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Shion's grip tightened around the cloth and Safu cleared her throat.

"We're very sorry for your loss, Ma'am," she said, keeping her professionalism far better than he was.

The woman trembled as she looked down at her son, and Safu took her distraction as a signal that the conversation was over. She nudged Shion's shoulder and began to walk away. Shion moved to return the bandana, but the woman reached out and clasped his hand. There were tears in her eyes, and they dribbled down her cheeks, heedless of the sad display this presented to her son beside her.

"Please," she choked. "I can't bear to watch my son starve. I know you're a good man. You treated Lloyd once when he was sick—and our daughter, you helped her. Sophie?"

Shion's brow furrowed. He couldn't remember this woman's husband. There were so many sick people in the West Block and he couldn't possibly remember everyone he helped. However, the name Sophie was familiar to him. He had known a child by that name a few years back. She had been unfortunate enough to be playing in the street when a shop owner fired a shotgun at a fleeing thief. By the time he arrived, there wasn't anything he could do but staunch the flow of blood and whisper consolingly until she closed her eyes.

"Please, just once more. I swear I won't ask again." The woman began to sob, and the boy at her side raised his arm to rub her back. His own face was vacant. Shion swallowed thickly.

Safu drew in a quavering breath behind him, but when she spoke her voice was firm, "We're really sorry, but we can't. It wouldn't be fair to the other families."

And with that she transferred her rations to one arm, took hold of Shion's elbow, and steered him away. The woman's fingers slipped from his hand without a fight, but he could still feel the ghost of their touch for several minutes after they parted. He and Safu floated through the crowd, only stopping once they reached the massive weather-beaten ruins of a once grandiose hotel.

Safu left him and went to stand under an archway off to the side. Shion remained still. His hands were sweating, and he looked down at them to see that he was still clutching the dirty bandana. His chest hollowed out with sadness and pain.

I should not have taken this. This belonged to that boy's father, that woman's husband. I should go back. I need to return this before it's too late, he thought over and over again. But his body was numb. I'm a coward.

A hotness built up in the back of his throat and he squeezed the cloth tighter. He dragged himself over to a chunk of stone and dropped down onto it. Safu came to his side a minute or two later, but they didn't speak. He drew pictures in the dirt with the tip of his boot, and she opened her rations and started nibbling on the edge of a cracker. The glances she tossed his way every now and then indicated that she wanted to say something, but she never gave voice to the thoughts.

Shion scrubbed away a doodle with the sole of his shoe and then yelped as something hot and wet brushed against his hand. He yanked his arm back and the dog beside him panted, as though laughing at his surprise.

"Hah… Hey, girl." He placed the bandana in his lap and cupped the dog's head in his hands, stroking its ears with his thumbs. "I guess you're here for your reward?"

He reached into his bag, tore open a sleeve of crackers and held one out to the dog. It lapped it out of his hand and wagged its tail at him when it finished. He chuckled and moved to pull out another, and then stopped. He stared into the mouth of the bag and then glanced at the dog. He fished out the bread and the crackers and placed them on top of the cloth in his lap.

Safu had been watching him since he recoiled from the dog, and she slumped when he began wrapping the food in the bandana. "Shion…" she groaned, but her voice lacked its usual force.

"Alright, you're going to help me," he said to the dog. He pulled out one cracker before tying the bundle off. He raised the morsel above the dog's head and held the package in front of its face with his other hand. "Come on, girl, sniff it."

The dog turned away and hopped up to snap at the cracker. Shion deftly pulled his hand back. "No! Bad dog. Come on, you did it for me this morning, you can do it again. Smell the cloth." He pushed the bandana against its nose. The dog gave a low growl, but then paused and sniffed. It licked the bundle and Shion smiled. "Good girl." He rewarded it with the cracker.

He tied the bundle around its neck as it scarfed the treat down. The dog looked annoyed with the weight on its shoulders when it straightened up, and prepped to shake, but Shion caught its muzzle.

"No," he hissed, staring into its eyes. "Take the package to where the scent leads. Do not eat it or lose it. Send it. Send."

The dog wriggled and made disgruntled noises, but eventually it sat and huffed through its nostrils. When it pawed his pant leg, Shion released it. "Good. Send." He snapped in the opposite direction. The dog obediently turned and stalked off.

"You can't help everyone," Safu said softly once the dog had disappeared from sight. Shion lolled his head back, exhausted. She sighed. "Well, at least you didn't give away everything this time. And you had enough sense to keep the apple for yourself."

"Yeah, well, I had to save something for Nezumi, and he didn't like the bread or crackers yesterday." He shook his head. "Maybe the apple will make him less hostile."

Shion started when Safu groaned loudly beside him. "Who cares what that elite snob likes? It's your food, he should be grateful to be fed anything at all."

He suppressed a chuckle at her overwrought expression. "It's fine. I don't really care, and besides, there's enough food for us both."

Safu rolled her eyes, stuffed her hand into her bag, and shoved her apple into his chest. He caught it as it rolled into his lap.

"Safu, I—"

"Just take it. I don't like apples, anyway."

The corner of Shion's mouth twitched into a small smile. "Thanks."

XXXXX

It was a little after six when Shion made his way back home. After he and Safu had finished their modest meal, he helped her run some errands for the girls at the hotel. When they returned with the prescriptions and baubles they had set out to buy, Safu invited him in to make a few overdue greetings, but he declined.

He had been out for several hours already and he was beginning to feel nervous. Had Nezumi stayed put? And if he had, what was he doing? The worst was the thought of whether or not he'd found the guns. He was sure they weren't loaded, and yet a part of him kept thinking, what if they were? He didn't think the boy had enough guts to try to shoot him, but it had been impressed upon him time and again not to underestimate the elite's capabilities.

He slipped into the underground passage and stood in front of the door for a few deliberating seconds. Empty guns are still dangerous. He could be waiting by the side of the door to hit me over the head with the butt of a rifle. I wouldn't put that past him. But that's probably not the case; there's no reason to attack me when he had all this time to escape. If he's still in there, I shouldn't have anything to worry about…

He placed the bag of rations next to the door and took out the key from his pocket. Slowly, he inserted it into the lock, took a breath, and swung the door open.

The first thing he saw was Nezumi, staring at him from behind the coffee table. He stayed, Shion thought with a rush of relief. He let out a breath, and then sharply sucked it back in.

The floor was littered with books. There were at least thirty of them sprawled out on the floor in front of the shelves. In the process of making himself at home, it looked like Nezumi had cleared room underneath the coffee table by pushing out the magazines stacked there with his feet. And while the majority of the pile was intact, a few of the top issues were cascading into the pool of literature in front of them. A block of wood rested on the table, and it took Shion a few seconds and a glance at the conspicuous white outline on the wall above his bed to realize that it was his clock.

And there Nezumi sat at the coffee table, puckishly unconcerned with the ruin he created.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," he said brightly. "I was beginning to worry." Nezumi's smile had just the right touch of innocence.

Shion wet his lips and nodded minutely in response. Okay. Okay, he's still angry, obviously… But he did stay in the room and didn't try to ambush me when I walked in, so I'm willing to overlook this.

He forced his mouth to form a small, but overwhelmed smile. "You really went for it. Did you read all those books?"

"I cracked open a couple of them, but I kept losing interest after a few pages." Nezumi cast his gaze around the room. "I hope you don't mind. You told me to help myself, after all."

In an extreme feat of self-control, Shion managed to minimize his outward show of annoyance to a scowl. How childish can you get?

He eyed the clock splayed open on the table and felt a prick of nervousness. If he wasn't mistaken, there had been a palm-sized revolver inside its cabinet, but he didn't see it anywhere.

"You're trying to fix the clock?" He tried to sound casual.

Nezumi gave him a loaded look, picked something off floor next to him, and dangled it between two fingers for Shion to see. The revolver.

"Yeah, I found it," he said in answer to the unspoken question. "Not exactly top-level security."

Shion accepted his loss and shrugged. "I thought it was inconspicuous enough."

Nezumi's grey eyes glinted darkly at him from across the room. "Apparently. You ever consider that your clock might work better if you didn't cram firearms into it?"

"The clock was broken long before I put the revolver into its compartment."

"Was the organ broken, too, before you decided to replace the pipes with rifle barrels?"

Shion paused in the middle of taking off his jacket and eyed Nezumi. His eyebrows were raised expectantly and there was a ghost of a smirk on his face. Well, it wasn't like I hadn't expected this.

"You were pretty thorough, huh?" He shrugged his coat the rest of the way down his arms, and added without interest, "How many of the other weapons did you find?"

Nezumi's eye twitched and Shion turned aside, knowing that feigning nonchalance would increase his suspicion. Of course, the revolver and the rifles were the only weapons hidden in the room, but he wanted to wipe the condescending look off the other boy's face. Shion allowed himself a smirk of his own as he hung his coat on the chair in front of the organ.

"I brought food."

"I've had enough crackers for one day, but thanks."

Shion picked the bag up from beside the door and rummaged through it. "Well, I don't have any crackers, but I do have this." He placed an apple on the table in front of Nezumi. "If you're not hungry now, you can save it for later. Whichever."

He moved past him, sat down on the bed, and snacked on a few nuts from the bag while he waited. A minute or so passed, but finally Nezumi took the apple and bit into it with a sour look on his face. Shion snorted lightly.

He's acting like a little kid. Is it really that hard for him to accept it? Or maybe it's just me he doesn't want to accept anything from.

He noticed Macbeth sitting on the couch and wondered if Nezumi had read something seriously after all. The other boy seemed engrossed in the clock gears now, however. Shion leaned forward and tried to peek at whatever he was doing with them, but he couldn't quite see over the hulk of the clock body.

"If you have something you wanna say, just come out with it," Nezumi said blandly. "Your hovering is distracting."

Shion pushed the rations aside and moved to the edge of the bed. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing the clock."

"…Thanks."

"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because I'm bored."

"What's wrong with it?" Nezumi bit a chunk out of the apple and stared down at the interior of the clock. "Guess you don't know?"

"I'll figure it out eventually. I'm working by process of elimination. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with the gears."

Shion hummed thoughtfully and the room lapsed into another round of silence. Nezumi was acting touchy and unfriendly, but he wasn't entirely closed off. Shion shifted. Something compelled him to try and make conversation again.

"So…"

He paused, realizing that he had spoken before a proper topic had come to mind. He rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he should just drop the matter after all. Besides, Nezumi didn't look like he wanted to talk.

The moment he decided that, Nezumi turned his head to look at him. His expression was miffed, but expectant. Shion blinked slowly. He's waiting for me to finish? He floundered to come up with the rest of the sentence, and ended up spitting out the first thing that came to mind.

"How are you feeling?"

Nezumi cocked an eyebrow. "…Peachy."

"It's just that I know you fainted earlier."

Nezumi made a disgusted sound and turned back toward the clock pieces. Shion persevered, however, because even though the topic had been spontaneous, it was an important one.

"Could you describe to me what happened at that time? Did you feel dizzy or nauseous beforehand? Or have headaches? If you have any of those symptoms you need to tell me."

"I felt fine right up until you started talking. Now I have a massive headache."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"If you fainted, it could mean your head injury was worse than I thought. You could have a concussion."

"I didn't faint because of a head injury."

"Well, if you're sure, then that's good. Still, if any of those symptoms develop, you need to tell me. We don't have many supplies, but I'm sure I could do something…" He had a few herbs that might help. "How's your shoulder?"

"Do you normally talk this much?" Nezumi dropped his hands from their project and angled his body toward Shion. "Stop asking about my condition. I'm fine."

Shion slumped his shoulders. Nezumi once again returned to his work. The only sound in the room was the clinking of clock parts.

"I don't," Shion admitted at length.

"What are you babbling about now?"

"I don't usually talk this much. I actually dislike small talk, but I don't know how long you'll be here, and I can't stand this strained atmosphere. I don't know what else to talk about but your health… Maybe I'm over compensating for this morning. But you answer rudely no matter what I ask…" He trailed off near the end, muttering the last few lines so that Nezumi had to strain to hear them.

"I answer rudely because you ask stupid questions with meaningless answers."

"I get the feeling you don't like personal questions, so meaningless questions are the only ones left to ask."

Shion's eyes roamed over the books scattered on the floor. I wonder if he's going to be too stubborn to put them back… I don't want to let him walk all over me, but I also don't want to leave everything on the floor where it could be damaged. In the corner of the room, he spotted a slim volume with a colorful illustration of a statue and a bird on the cover. His heart gave a nostalgic lurch.

"Did you read that book?" He pointed in its direction.

"The Happy Prince? Yeah. It's short, so I read that one all the way through."

"Oh, really? That's great." Shion smiled softly, happy to have discovered a new and inoffensive topic to discuss. "My mom used to read it to me all the time. What'd you think?"

"It's ridiculous," Nezumi scoffed. "Both the Prince and the Swallow are idiots."

Rather than being angered at his venom, Shion merely furrowed his brow. He didn't see how anyone could come to that conclusion.

"How so?"

Nezumi gestured at the book. "The Swallow dies for no reason. Alright, fine, he takes pity on the Prince and carries out his last wishes, but then he should've just flown to Egypt like he wanted. Who cares if the Prince can't see? He's a statue, and if he didn't have to stare at the poverty every day, maybe he'd be a little less miserable. The only thing the Swallow accomplishes by staying is bringing the Prince to further ruin, and then freezing to death himself. Am I supposed to be moved by such a pointless sacrifice?"

Shion opened his mouth to reply, but Nezumi barreled on, becoming more heated as he spoke,

"And don't even get me started on the Prince. Does he really think that giving away all his jewels and gold is going to make a difference in the long run? After the townspeople use up what he gave them, they'll be just as poor and miserable as they always were, except it'll be worse, because they'll know what they're missing. It's so naïve it's cruel."

Nezumi scoffed again and glared at the book in the corner. Shion stared at him with his mouth just the slightest bit open. He's serious. He coughed and ducked his head when the other boy turned to look at him. But it was too late; Nezumi had already seen the incredulous smile.

"Something funny?"

"You," said Shion without a trace of amusement. "You're so spoiled. But I guess that's only natural of a No. 6 citizen. You've never known what it's like to starve, or to wonder if today is the day you'll die. You've never had to watch the people you love struggle while you can do nothing to help them." He paused and shook his head. "You've never known the meaning of misery or sacrifice, so of course you don't understand. But if you spent a little time in West Block, you'd realize how wrong you are to dismiss the Prince and Swallow as idiots. Even if the Swallow only helped the Prince out of pity at first, he stayed because he grew to understand and love him for his selflessness. And maybe the Prince was naïve for giving the people his jewels, but I don't think he was wrong, and I definitely don't think it was worthless. There's no such thing as a worthless act of kindness, and to people who have nothing, it can mean the world."

He expected some kind of dismissive retort, but Nezumi's expression was silent and unreadable. Shion felt like he was being sized up. I wish he'd relax a little.

Shion leaned back on his hands. "That's what I believe. But I guess most people in West Block would agree with you. Now that I think about it, if The Happy Prince took place in West Block, the Swallow probably would've taken the Prince's jewels and gold for himself and laughed all the way to Egypt..."

Yoming came to mind. He would definitely do something like that. And then he'd come back to melt the Prince's body into bullets. He blew out his cheeks and grumbled at the thought.

"You're weird."

"Huh?"

Nezumi had returned to the clock. He was frowning at the cabinet door, swinging it back and forth to look at the clock face.

"Where's that knife you had yesterday?" he said distractedly.

"Why do you ask?"

"I wanna try something. I think I know what the problem is."

"And you need a knife for it?"

Nezumi let the cabinet fall shut with a clack. "Do I really look like I'm going to stab you?" Shion raised an eyebrow, and Nezumi smirked in spite of himself. "Yeah, okay. Point taken. But I'll need it if you want this clock fixed."

Shion didn't exactly mind the clock not working. It hadn't worked for at least two or three years, but it had been a gift to his mother from a friend, and she had insisted they keep it out of respect, even after it had frozen one day. Now he kept it around mostly for aesthetic reasons. Besides, it made a decent hiding spot for small items. At least it had, until today. Still, even if he didn't need a working clock, having one would be nice, and he was curious to see if Nezumi could actually fix it.

But with a knife of all things…

He leaned over the edge of the bed and reached underneath the fitted sheet on the side of the mattress. He dropped the knife into Nezumi's open hand. Without pause, the other boy wedged the blade into the space between the wood and the clock rim and pushed. The glass cover popped out and up, and Nezumi caught it and placed it aside. He bent the minute hand against the clock face.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Uh… Six thirty, maybe?"

Nezumi grunted and dragged the minute hand around the perimeter until the clock reflected the time he was given. He stood the clock up, moved the pendulum to the right, and released it.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

A satisfied smirk made its way onto Nezumi's face. "Told you I'd figure it out."

"Sorry to have doubted you." Shion, too, grinned at the revived timepiece. "What was wrong with it?"

"Minute hand was touching the glass."

"Really? It was that easy?"

Nezumi shrugged a shoulder and slowly moved the clock to the couch.

"Where'd you learn so much about clocks? Did you work with them in No. 6?"

"Nah. Even though I technically worked in the Robotics lab, the only thing I was allowed to do was edit code. I haven't worked with anything like gears or actual machine parts since I was in school…" The flesh of the half-eaten apple on the table was browning. Nezumi picked it up and took a bite. "Which is annoying because I was good at it," he said between chewing.

"What kind of stuff did you do in school?"

"Well, since I was super-elite," he said with sarcasm, "I got to pick an area of concentration, so I picked mechanical engineering. It was mostly math and theories, but sometimes they let us build our own projects. They weren't much more than toys, though."

Mechanical engineering?

Shion studied the clock on the couch and pressed a hand to his mouth. "Do you think your skills would come back if you had the resources and practice?" Nezumi sent a look his way. Shion placed his hand in his lap and tried to pick his words carefully. "I only ask because… Well, you know… if I asked Yoming, I could probably get whatever parts you needed to do projects."

Nezumi placed the apple core right-side up on the end of the table. "Why do I feel like there's a 'but' somewhere in that sentence?"

"It's not really a 'but' so much as a small 'if.' I can't say why No. 6 wouldn't want you to build things for them, but I can think of a ton of people here who would know the value of your skill set and put it to good use. For example, the group I work for could always use more—"

"No way."

"But now that No. 6 knows we exist, they could attack us at any time. Even you could be in danger. We're seriously outmatched in man and firepower, and we could really use someone with your expertise, especially if you can apply your skills to weaponry."

"Definitely no."

Shion pouted. "I think it's at least worth consideration. If you joined our group, you'd actually be able to use all that knowledge that was being wasted in No. 6. And don't tell me you don't care about that, because I saw you smile when you fixed the clock. There's nothing to hold you back anymore. No No. 6 to hide from, nothing. All you have to do is make a few things for us in return." Shion drew in a breath and added what he thought would be the most convincing of his arguments, "And, if you joined our group, you'd definitely be allowed to leave this room. You might even be permitted to wander around outside by yourself."

Nezumi's incredulous expression flickered. But it lasted only a moment before his delicate features twisted in scorn. "It's tempting, but no thanks. I'm sure you and your group of freedom fighters can achieve whatever it is you aim to achieve without the use of my skills. What is it you're trying to do again? Take down No. 6?"

"… In a manner of speaking."

"Good luck with that."

"I don't see why you'd say no. You get to build whatever you want and you'd be able to do what you want, too. And you don't like No. 6, right? If you help us, you'd be helping to end No. 6's tyranny. There's no downside."

"The downside is that if I joined your group then I'd have to take orders from a guy who has no qualms about emptying his entire gun into people's faces. I could list other issues with your proposal, but I think that's more than enough reason to refuse."

He had a point there. Yoming wasn't an easy person to get along with, even when he was in a good mood, and Nezumi's first encounter with him had been more violent than most.

"Yoming's not..." he started, but then gave up. If he couldn't even convince himself of Yoming's virtue, there was absolutely no way he was going to sell Nezumi on that point. He wasn't going to embarrass himself by trying.

Nezumi smiled somewhat at his aborted defense. "Yikes. If even you don't dare to bullshit about his leadership ability, I'm definitely not signing up."

"Yoming has plenty of leadership ability, it's only his methods of obtaining obedience that I can't, in good conscience, defend."

"Oh really?" Nezumi said with a mocking lilt. He took Macbeth off the couch and sat down in its place. "Funny you should say that, because I seem to recall several times yesterday when you waved a gun in my face and ordered me around."

"That's different. I never actually intended to shoot you."

"Just like you never actually intended to shoot that officer?"

"That…"

That was not something he was proud of. Shion felt the blood rushing unbidden to his cheeks and turned away. But he couldn't escape the throbbing in his chest, or the way his stomach tied itself into knots when he thought about that moment.

He hadn't even blinked when he turned and watched his bullet rip through that man's skull. It was only afterwards that he felt the weight of his actions bearing down on him. He had trained hard for that moment, had imagined similar scenarios many times before, but the reality did not bring the promised relief, or even numbness. He felt disgusted. He felt ashamed.

"That's not the same," Shion said, clenching his fists when he heard the slight tremor in his voice. "I didn't…"

Why am I explaining myself? He doesn't care. He doesn't want to hear this. I should stop. If he thinks I'm a cold-blooded killer, he'll be easier to control. But the harder he tried to push the thoughts and feelings down, the more desperately he wanted to voice them.

"I didn't know anything when I fired that gun." The words tore from his throat, and it was like opening a floodgate. "I thought I did, but… I was only thinking about our mission and that the people from No. 6 weren't people. They're just parasites. No human could treat other people like they do. That's what Yoming says, that's what everyone says, so I didn't even think and I shot him. It was supposed to be like slaying a monster, but it felt like shooting someone in the face. I'm not proud of it, I didn't enjoy it, and… and I don't want to do it again. So it's not the same. We're different."

The words hung in the air long after he finished, but he didn't look up. It was mortifying enough to know that the words had been heard and that he was being watched. He had hoped that speaking his mind would help relieve some of the guilt, but it only made it real, and he suddenly felt very sick and very tired.

"Sorry… I didn't mean to dump that on you. I'm tired, so I'm gonna go to sleep."

Carefully avoiding looking anywhere but down, he climbed under the sheets and pulled the blanket over his head. The couch behind him creaked, but then there was nothing. Shion squeezed his eyes shut and prayed she would not come to him in his sleep.