It's been a week.
Safu drummed her fingers on the table. The other Resistance members drifted around her, but she hardly noticed. A few glanced her way, but those with business of their own passed without much more than that, and the rest knew the expression on her face invited no pleasantries. The byword for West Block was "back off," and scant few bothered to involve themselves in matters that did not directly affect them. Safu knew only one person who constantly and voluntarily got involved in the affairs of others, and it was on this boy that her mind had been wholly fixed for the better part of a week.
She knew her worrying would do no good; Shion had smiled and laughed away her concerns enough times that she had resigned herself to just letting him alone to sort out his feelings. He would return to her side, quiet but cheerful, when he was ready, and the matter that disturbed the balance between them would smooth out and fade into obscurity. It would take a heavy blow to create a rift between them, however small, but there were times when it happened.
Like when Shion attacks people. Not that she resented him for that. The Disposer had spoken out of line, and while it didn't warrant a death sentence, she could understand Shion's aggression.
That was not the first time she had seen him react violently, but it had been a long while. They could not have been more than nine years old, running about the market and trying to figure out what to buy with the pocket money Safu's grandmother had given her. She had just decided on an orange, when it was snatched from her grasp.
"Hey! That's mine!"
The culprit was some ratty little boy. She had seen his kind before, an orphan turned to common thievery.
"That's Safu's. Give it back," Shion said.
The kid leered at Safu. "You don't need it," he sniffed at her. He tossed the orange up and down in his hand. "Richy like you? You could probably afford a bunch of these. What's one to ya?"
"I'm not rich."
"Sure ya are. Only a richy would be caught in that getup—ugly as it is." He sneered at her shirt. "You'da thought with all the money the old hag makes you'd buy something more fancy, but I guess money can't buy taste."
Safu didn't bother explaining to him that she didn't buy her sweater at all, that her grandmother had knitted it for her the winter before. She didn't need to explain herself to anyone, and though the boy's insults smarted, she was determined not to let it show.
"Give Safu the orange back," Shion repeated, more sternly than the last time.
The boy glanced at him, a smile playing at his lips. "What're you, her bodyguard?" Shion pursed his lips and the boy snorted. "Well, I guess the princess of the whorehouse would need a guard."
Shion wasn't a big kid, but Safu learned that day that he was a lot stronger than he looked. He punched the boy hard enough to give him a bloody nose, and before the hapless bully could cry out, Shion caught him by the front of his shirt and yanked him forward.
"Apologize to Safu," he commanded.
"My nose!" the boy whimpered, his voice thick and watery.
"Say you're sorry!" Shion repeated.
"I… I'm s-sorry."
Shion released his shirt and the boy ran from them, sobbing incomprehensible slurs all the way.
"You didn't have to do that," Safu mumbled.
"Of course I did. He was a jerk." Shion shook his hand out. "He shouldn't have said those things to you if he didn't want to be hit."
Safu bit her lip and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. "Your hand's hurt. Use this."
Shion took it gratefully, and while he wiped his knuckle, he stared at her. She felt her face heating up at the unexpected attention. She didn't know why she should be so embarrassed; it wasn't as though Shion had never looked at her before.
"I don't know what that jerk was talking about," Shion scoffed. "That sweater looks great on you."
That was Shion all over. Warm and so unreservedly honest it was hard to look at him sometimes. He was fiercely protective of his loved ones, would do anything for them, and that included stooping to violence if he felt the reason was just. And yet, Safu knew Shion felt ashamed of the ferocity of his outbursts, even if he didn't regret defending the cause that inspired it.
If Shion needed a little time to sort through his feelings, she would wait until he was ready to face her. A week's a bit much, though. She slapped the table with a sigh.
"You with us now?"
She was unsurprised to find Kaze hovering a few feet away.
"Got a delivery for you." He sauntered over with a cheeky smile and dropped the object into her hands. She recognized it immediately as Nezumi's robot. She flipped it over and opened the bottom. Two mini drives fell out into the palm of her hand. It actually worked. Nezumi will be smug.
"I'm sure Yoming will want these looked at as soon as possible," she said, slipping them and the mouse into her pocket for safekeeping.
"Yeah. Too bad Nezumi hasn't been around… Come to think of it, I haven't seen Shion around either."
Safu straightened. "You haven't?"
"Nope. Not in, like… three or four days, maybe."
Safu tried to swallow the feeling of foreboding that rose up in her throat. It was one thing to want to avoid people for a while, but he still had a job to do. He still had to eat. Calm down. It's fine. Just because you and Kaze haven't seen him doesn't mean anything's wrong. You're just two people, you could have missed him any number of times.
Kaze could either read the unease on her face, or his thoughts were traveling along the same track, because he frowned and turned towards the window. "Oy, Yamase! You know where Shion or Nezumi are?"
Yamase paused to think. "Isn't Nezumi sick?"
"Sick?"
"Yeah… We got a mouse from Shion saying Nezumi was sick and couldn't come in for a while. The boss was pissed."
"When did you get the mouse?" Safu asked.
"Three days ago."
"Have you seen Shion since?"
Yamase's brow knitted. "I… don't think so, no."
"You haven't seen him either?" Kaze traded glances between Safu and Yamase. "That's kinda weird. I mean, I get Nezumi, and Shion probably has to take care of him, but you'd think we'd at least see him around sometimes. And the note was sent three days ago? Nezumi must be really sick." Kaze raked his bad hand through his hair. "…Think he's dead?"
"Excuse me?" Safu choked.
"Nezumi. It's possible. I mean, he's so delicate looking, I wouldn't be surprised if he caught something he couldn't handle." Kaze's face was contemplative. "And he lives with Shion, right? So what if Shion caught whatever Nezumi got and that's why we haven't seen him?" Kaze's eyes widened. "Do you think Shion's dead—"
"Kaze, shut up," snapped Yamase.
"What, it's—" Kaze closed his mouth when he noticed the other man's pointed look in Safu's direction. "Oh. Right. Uh, he's probably not. He's probably fine. Shion's a doctor, after all."
Safu missed the exchange, however. She only had room in her thoughts for one thing.
"I'm going to check on Shion."
She turned for the door, but a torrent of Resistance members flooded in. There wasn't a meeting that day, so what were all these people doing rushing into headquarters? Unless… Safu's stomach constricted. The Hunt.
Yoming stalked in. He looked more haggard than she had ever seen him. His hair was long and matted, his chin unshaven and grizzled. The superfibre shawl he wore about his shoulders was dirty and torn in one corner. He looked almost like a man defeated, except his eyes flashed with a fervent light. He looked around, but the crowd did not need to be told to hush.
"No. 6 has made its move," Yoming began, his voice overflowing with an emotion caught somewhere between excitement and dread. "This morning when we went out to collect the shipment, we were ambushed by an assassin."
A few gasps ricocheted around the room. Some people's faces were drawn in fear, while others stared resolutely ahead, their eyes never leaving Yoming.
"He sunk the ferry with all our supplies on board and then fired upon our party. Two of your comrades were wounded, before he turned his gun on me." Yoming grabbed the edge of his shawl and yanked it emphatically. "He aimed straight for my heart, and if I hadn't been wearing this, I would not be here talking to you now.
"We managed to incapacitate him despite our causalities, and when we asked him, comrades, who his employer was, do you know what he said?"
The name was on everyone's breath, permeating the air with a silent threat.
"Yes," he hissed. "No. 6. No. 6 attempted to use one of our own to kill our cause. Those who were there with me can attest that what I speak is the truth."
A man and a woman who were leaning against the wall behind him lifted their chins gravely. They appeared to be the wounded comrades Yoming mentioned. Blood dribbled down the woman's arm from beneath her sleeve, and the man, too, left a thin trail over the floor as he dragged his leg to stand beside Yoming.
"No. 6 tried to assassinate me, comrades. There is only one reason why they should do such a thing: so that we would be in chaos when they arrived. So we would not be able to fight back. They have failed in their aim, but they have succeeded in making one thing absolutely clear. They're coming." He inhaled gravely. "The Hunt is upon us."
Someone near the back whimpered. Safu had gone cold down to her fingertips. No. 6 had made their move. If No. 6 knew their supplier and had tried to assassinate Yoming, they must have been watching the Resistance very closely. They had expected that satellite surveillance on the West Block would increase after the mission to secure the elite was carried out. They had therefore been meticulous in their activities, conducting meetings in secret, and moving shipments in small groupings and under the cover of night. They had taken every precaution. The only way they could have been more clandestine was if they had taken their entire organization underground.
Yet, if No. 6 had discovered, despite their efforts, that Yoming was the leader and No. 2 their supplier, then nothing was safe. They could know everything. They could know Nezumi was hiding with Shion.
"No. 6 will bring troops down, just like they always do, and they will be armed—heavily. But you must not panic, comrades! Stick to the plan. Do not shoot first! Do not give them a chance to paint us the aggressors and claim they killed in self-defense."
The noise in headquarters had gone from nonexistent to uproarious in an instant. The members erupted into a frenzy of cries and growls, and even Yoming had to raise his voice in order to be heard above the clamor.
Safu was sure he'd have everyone in control again soon so he could give them detailed instructions on how to act when the time came, but she couldn't wait for that. She pushed through the chaos, shoving people out of her way until she burst out of the building. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she broke into a run.
Who was to say that the assassin that came for Yoming was the only one? There could be more, dozens, even. No. 6 wants Nezumi, and if they know about Yoming, they know about Shion. And if they're willing to kill— She changed to a full-on sprint when she turned onto the main street. How could I have been so stupid! I should have checked on him! Yoming was attacked hours ago!
The warehouse was in sight now and the only thing Safu could think was, Please. Please let him be safe. She said Shion's name like a prayer, repeating it over and over as she raced down the dirt path.
When she pressed the switch and the stairs revealed themselves, she paused. The dark stretch below snuffed out the fire in her, and an icy terror crystallized in its stead. This isn't the time to freeze up, she told herself. She focused on leveling out her breathing as she descended the stairs.
"Shion?" She thumped on the door twice. "Shion, it's Safu."
The corridor was frigid. Safu wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Come on, Shion. Answer. She banged three more times.
"Shion! Please open the door. I—"
The door clicked. She felt it beneath her fist as much as heard it. Safu drew in a ragged gasp and stepped back. Shion poked his head out to peer at her and the smile forming on her lips retreated.
He looked as bad as Yoming. His hair was a disheveled mass, flattened more on one side, as though he had fallen asleep hunched over a table. But the deep purple smudges under his eyes indicated that he had not often allowed himself the luxury of sleep. He remained half hidden by the door and squinted at her. His expression was too dull for her to be able to discern the reason behind it, whether he did so from the darkness or confusion, weariness or annoyance, she couldn't tell.
"Safu?"
"Shion." She didn't mean for her voice to come out so soft, but she was glad of it when she saw a glimmer of life return to Shion's eyes.
"What is it? Is something wrong?"
He searched her face and her heart sputtered. He was worried about her. He was okay.
"I'm fine," she answered gently, "but Yoming was shot this morning."
"Oh." Shion's eyes flicked to the side. "Okay… Take him to Yuichi and I'll be there as soon as I can."
"No, he wasn't wounded, but No. 6 arranged it. I just came… to warn you. You need to be careful. Nezumi, too."
"Mm."
Safu balled her fists at her sides. Shion. Look at me. Why won't you look at me?
"Are you alright? No one's seen you for days."
He gave a minute shrug. "I'm just a little tired. I… I've been busy. Nezumi…" Shion glanced behind him, but she couldn't follow his gaze into the room. He kept the door only open enough for him to stand and peer out from behind it. "Nezumi's sick," he finished. "I sent a mouse."
"Yeah, I know. I heard." He looked so small and tired. She wanted to reach out to him, but she was afraid that he would shrink from her. She bit the inside of her cheek to remind herself to stay in the moment. "Is it serious?"
"I don't know. Maybe. It's complicated," he sighed. "I don't know what will happen, so that's why I can't leave. If someone needs me, send them to Yuichi. I can't do it right now. Nezumi needs me."
"Oh." There seemed to only be enough air in her lungs for that weak syllable. She knew she should say more. She needed to push on if she didn't want him to see, but even though she knew all this, she did not speak for a long while. The silence seeped between them, an awkward eternity that only Safu seemed to be able to feel.
"Do you need anything? You have food?" she managed at last.
"Yeah. It's fine, we—"
"What about water? You have to stay hydrated. I can get some, if you need it." Shion finally looked up, but it was Safu now that averted her eyes.
"…Sure. Thanks."
"Great. Be back soon."
She took the stairs by twos, desperate to reach the dank light of the afternoon above. What am I getting so worked up for? Shion's just doing what he always does, putting others before himself. He'd do the same for me—for anyone.
That wasn't true, though, was it? Under normal circumstances, it might've been, but this was different. When he heard Yoming was shot, he was disinterested. She saw it. He hesitated, and even when he said he would go check on Yoming, he looked like he'd rather not go.
No one had seen him in days, and Shion didn't even seem to register that this was alarming. He was too focused on Nezumi, so focused that he was willing to neglect everyone else and hole himself up in his house for days on end. This was more than professionalism or kindness. Shion was giving Nezumi the same undivided attention he used to pay his mother. Safu had thought after Karan's death that the only other person that could inspire that level of dedication in Shion was herself.
She and Shion had known each other since they were toddlers, but somehow Nezumi, this snide, arrogant elite whom Shion had only known a few months, had managed to gain the same level of regard as her. Perhaps more.
Safu bit down hard on her lip, but she knew there was no point in repressing the suspicions that flooded into her thoughts. Did it really matter? She already knew. She had known for years that she had no chance, but she had willfully deceived herself into thinking different.
After Karan passed away, Shion was broken. He never left his room, hardly ate or drank anything unless you brought food to him and stayed to make sure he finished it. She couldn't bear to see him suffering week after week alone in his room, but there wasn't much she could do but offer her presence. He seemed better when she came to visit, though, so she began to think that maybe she could help him. One night, she gathered her courage and said the words that she had wanted to say ever since they were nine.
"I can be your family."
Shion had looked confused then, and so cripplingly sad it made her heart ache. He couldn't understand her words; she had never been much good with them when it came to communicating the matters of her heart. So she decided to show him.
She leaned in and pressed her lips gently to his. It hadn't lasted more than a second, and it took even less for the look on Shion's face to shatter her.
"Sorry," she blurted. "That was insensitive."
"No, Safu, I—"
"No, please don't. Please."
Of all the horrible decisions she made in her life, she regretted that moment the most. How could she have thought that was a good idea? Shion just lost his mother, his only real family. It wasn't the time to be approaching him about that sort of thing. Shion's flinch at the contact; the velvet despair of his eyes when she pulled away; the way he whispered her name when he saw she realized—she would forget all of it. She had moved too fast; he wasn't ready.
Perhaps one day when things settled down, she would try again, but until then, she should do everything in her power to make sure that things returned to normal between them. Shion made it easier for her. He did try to bring up the incident once, but she dodged the discussion and he never asked again.
The days went on, and Shion's condition improved. He grew strong again, went out, laughed more, and started helping people just like he used to. He joined the Resistance, and she followed after him. The fervor of her feelings had never faded, but no matter how well he seemed to get on, no matter how strong their relationship grew, she could not work up the confidence to confess to him.
And now it was too late. Or rather, it had always been too late. Despite what she deluded herself into hoping, Shion never felt more than friendship for her, and no amount of pretending could change that. Someone else was destined to occupy his heart, and it seemed, whether Shion realized it himself yet or not, that he had found that someone.
But why him, of all people? Why Nezumi?
The stream was in sight now and Safu reached into her pocket to retrieve her canteen. I still have the drives with me. She had almost forgotten she pocketed them. But what good was remembering that right now? Nezumi was apparently very sick, and Shion wouldn't care about anything else until he was better. Safu considered dropping all of it, robot included, into the river, but the thought stopped there.
She filled the canteen and made her way back to the bunker. She placed it out in front of Shion's door, knocked, and walked away.
"Safu?"
A moment passed, as she stood frozen at the top of the stairs, waiting. Then the sound of the door closing reverberated through the empty space. That was stupid. What was I expecting?
She wandered after that, lost in her own thoughts and feelings, which were becoming more suffocating and unrelenting the longer she dwelt on them. She hardly knew where she was going, or if she had been going anywhere at all, until she found herself in front of Gin and Yang. It was not a place she often visited. There wasn't much she wanted from the bar, apart from the rations it handed out once a week, but she didn't feel so picky today.
The bar was busy, but despite the number of people, it was uncharacteristically quiet. She spotted Yuki in the corner, a man on either side of her. She was smiling politely at one of them, but Safu turned away before she saw any more. For some reason, seeing Yuki annoyed her and she didn't want to accidently catch her eye.
Yang was fixing another young woman a drink, but when Safu waved her over she came immediately.
"Get me something strong."
Yang's eyebrow raised a fraction. She picked up a bottle of clear liquid and poured it right there. "On the house," she said, sliding it to her before drifting away.
Safu slipped onto a recently vacated bar stool and took a swig of her drink. She got two gulps down before it burned too much. How people did this on a regular basis, she could not understand. Safu knew a good number of Resistance members spent their afternoons at Yang's, but she couldn't seem to find more than a handful of gold bandanas in the crowd. A longer look produced a few familiar faces, ones she'd seen at meetings, but the telltale gold cloth was nowhere to be found on them. She tore her own bandana from her throat and stared at it.
A year of her life, that's what this piece of fabric represented. An entire year spent spying and collecting information for Yoming, while all the time watching Shion, making sure he was safe, making sure he didn't break. She was only ever in it for Shion. He had decided he was going to join the Resistance and help people with all he had left, and, like always, she followed. It was pathetic, but she convinced herself he needed her as much as she did him.
Her grandmother hated the idea from the start. "Shion's a nice boy—a good boy—but he's grieving and confused, and I can't bear to see him drag you down with him. I know what he means to you, Safu, but you shouldn't build your life around a man. You're going to get hurt."
"Shion's not one of your men, Grandma. I know what I'm doing."
Or at least she thought she did. But now she wasn't so sure, because here she was drinking god-knows-what in a bar like some washed up cliché. She gripped the bandana tighter, feeling the fabric bunch between her fingers.
She knew he wasn't in love with her. She knew. Even when she hid from the realization, she always knew. So why did it hurt so much now? It felt like she had been punched in the stomach and she was still reeling from the shock of the betrayal. How could she have let herself fall so far, knowing it could never come to anything but this?
Why him? Why, why, why? That one question tortured her. Why did she keep asking when she knew what she really wanted to know was why not her? Why couldn't it be her? What did she lack that Nezumi had? It must be something exceptional, because he had captured Shion's affections in the blink of an eye, when she could hardly get him to look at her half the time.
No, I can't let myself get dragged down with self-pity. I'm stronger than this. I—
"Safu?"
She gasped and turned to find Yuki watching her. Only one of the men was with her now, his arm snaking around her waist. Yuki's eyes widened and she immediately turned to her partner.
"Sorry. I can't go today after all." Ignoring his protests, she slipped out of his grasp to Safu's side. "Safu, what's wrong?"
Safu blinked at her, and something hot rolled down her cheek. It was only then she realized she was crying, and had been for a while. Her hands were dotted with tears, and the gold of the bandana had turned gray where the droplets had soaked into the fabric.
XXXX
Shion placed the novel he failed at reading back on the shelf. He checked the heater again to make sure it had enough fuel. He had wrestled it closer to the bed to make sure Nezumi would be warm, and although running it twenty-four seven was costly, he was willing to make the sacrifice if it meant Nezumi would get well. So far, though, Nezumi had hardly woken more than a handful of times in the past three days, and those were only to ask for water before passing out again.
Shion caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stopped to assess the damage. There was no denying he looked horrible. That explained the startled look on Safu's face when he answered the door earlier. I really should get more sleep, he supposed. I won't be any help to any one if I don't take care of myself. I should take a shower at least. Instead, he raked his fingers through his hair so that the flattened side looked as unruly as the rest. He sighed and collapsed onto the couch. Safu's canteen sat on the table, sweating droplets onto the wood.
Safu… She was upset with me. I'll have to apologize. But right now…
Shion glanced over at Nezumi. He slept deeply, but not soundly. More often than not his brow was creased, and he would twitch occasionally as if he were experiencing a sudden and sharp pain. Shion wished he could help him with whatever trials he faced in his dreams, but as it was he could only tend to the physical manifestations, and hope that time and attention would bring Nezumi out of his fitful slumber.
The length of Nezumi's unconsciousness was distressing, but he could understand it. Removing the parasite wasp had been a stressful procedure for them both, but it was Nezumi who suffered the most from it. To think that something like that existed. It was there; the wasp was actually there. That, and… and something else.
The moment he cut into Nezumi's neck he could feel the atmosphere in the room shift. It was as though something large and powerfully charged had jolted up the edge of the scalpel and buried itself in his fingertips. He could feel the ghost of electricity in his arm even now. And at the very last moment, when he excised the wasp, he could've sworn he had heard a voice… There were forces at work here that Shion couldn't even begin to understand, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to.
There are the other things, too… Shion stared at a tendril of hair resting on Nezumi's cheek and swallowed. There were no medical explanations for such things—at least as far as he knew—but he had already determined that these changes were not life threatening. They could wait to be looked into. For now, Nezumi needed rest.
"Three days is a long time," he murmured.
Nezumi broke into a fit of coughing.
Shion sprang off the couch. "Nezumi?"
The other teen didn't respond. The dry, breathy coughs were the only thing he could manage, and a small groan escaped his lips when they finally subsided.
Shion snatched the canteen off the table. "Can you drink this, Nezumi? Here, I'll help you sit up."
He worked a hand underneath Nezumi's head and angled the canteen to his mouth. He drank greedily, emptying half the container before turning aside. Shion caught a flash of grey before Nezumi's eyes slipped closed again with a soft sigh.
He waited a moment, hoping for another, longer glimpse, but it seemed Nezumi had fallen back into sleep. I guess I'll have to a wait a little longer. Shion placed the canteen down on the table and wiped his hand on his pant leg to rid it of condensation. He seems better, though. The thought soothed his harried nerves, but there was still something… He feels a little warm.
Shion rested his fingers against the inside of Nezumi's wrist. His pulse thrummed steadily against the pads of his fingers, slightly elevated, perhaps, but nothing too unusual. He was already past the point when the possibility of infection was a danger.
"What're you doing?"
The question was quiet and thick with sleep, but Shion flinched back as though Nezumi had shouted. His eyes were still closed, and if it weren't for the groggy frown he was wearing, Shion would've thought he was still asleep and hadn't spoken at all.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Although now that he knew Nezumi was somewhat conscious, he kind of wanted to keep him that way. "I'll be done in a minute."
Nezumi's wrist did feel a bit warm, so Shion reached a hand out and laid the back of it against Nezumi's forehead. It confirmed what he suspected: he was running a fever. It was a low one, though, and would likely break on its own. Nothing to be alarmed about.
Nezumi huffed through his nose like a miffed dog. "Enough," he mumbled, reaching up to pull his hand away. Shion smiled in spite of himself. Even when he was sick and half-conscious, he was still the same Nezumi.
Except that the Nezumi he was used to would have tossed his hand away immediately after moving it, but the seconds ticked by and Nezumi's fingers remained curled around his hand. Shion felt a heat spread through him that had nothing at all to do with fever.
This is… But Shion didn't know how to finish that sentence. Was it awkward? Nice? Not a good idea, considering Nezumi probably didn't know what he was doing? It was all those things, he supposed, but then what should he do about it?
Nezumi's palm was hot, and it prickled in the places where their skin touched. Shion's heart lurched in a way that was uncomfortable and yet exquisitely pleasant. He realized with a degree of embarrassment that his hand was starting to sweat, but even so, he didn't want to let go. I mean, he's the one that didn't let go first, so it might be okay to keep holding it… right? It's not like I'm doing anything indecent.
He watched Nezumi's face for signs of disturbance, but it was tranquil. That made one of them; Shion's heart was going haywire, and he was pretty sure if Nezumi could see the state of him he would laugh. Or tell him to stop being an idiot and let go of his hand. Probably the latter.
I don't want to wake him up, Shion decided at last. Besides, it'll be easier to monitor his heart rate and temperature this way. But now he had a problem. He couldn't just stand there all night. The past three days had been spent in a constant state of anxiety, and he was exhausted from the effort. What he really wanted was to sleep.
His eyes swept the room, and he caught the gazes of the mice as he did so. They blinked curiously at him and then scrambled onto the bed. Hamlet curled up in the corner and Biscuit settled on the top of the pillow. Tsukiyo, always the most daring of them all, climbed over the sheets and nestled himself in the curve of Nezumi's neck without the slightest bit of hesitation. Shion was almost ashamed of the pins and needles that raced up his arm when Nezumi shivered and squeezed his hand tighter.
Well. Shion bit his lip. It is my bed.