Nezumi would've liked to sleep longer, but as it was, his body was slowly dragging him into conscious. It's warm, he noted with hazy pleasure. There was a draft over his face, but everything from his neck down was the perfect temperature. He couldn't remember the last time he had woken so peacefully; it had been years. He was vaguely aware that he had fallen asleep in a bed and was extremely grateful for the softness and pliancy of the mattress beneath him. Never going back to the couch, he muttered internally.

He buried his face further into the pillow and decided he would stay there just a little longer. It had been so long since he had had a good night's sleep. Something on his stomach itched, though, incessantly. After a minute of trying to ignore it, Nezumi couldn't take it anymore. He growled and wrenched himself awake.

He opened his eyes and froze, the itching sensation instantly forgotten. It took him all of a second to work out that he was, in fact, awake, and that Shion was, in fact, lying inches from him, apparently fast asleep, but his guesses at how this could have happened were a little less forthcoming. He looks horrible, was the only thing that he could decide on with absolute certainty. Fortunately, Shion began to stir, so he figured he wouldn't have to wait long for an explanation.

Shion's lashes fluttered once, twice, and then he was awake. His dark eyes were bleary with sleep at first, but the speed with which they focused on his was almost comical, if it wasn't so damn unsettling to be stared at inches from his face.

Nezumi held his gaze for a moment, before he formed his mouth into a lazy smirk. "Good morning, honey," he purred.

Shion's eyes widened, and he shot up so fast Nezumi wondered how he escaped whiplash. "Nezumi! You're awake!"

"Indeed I am, and very curious as to the sleeping arrangements. Care to explain?"

"And you're making jokes," Shion breathed. "You're so much better."

Shion looked like he couldn't decide if he should devolve into raptures or sob, and Nezumi feared what other unwelcome situations he might find himself in if he let Shion decide on doing either.

He shifted to prop himself up on his elbow. Some hair swept into his eyes and he reached up to brush it away, only to freeze for the second time in minutes. He pulled the lock he was touching out in front of him. It shone white and glossy against the fading lantern light. He pulled harder and a strand came away with a light twinge. It looked like a thread of silk. This couldn't possibly be his… could it?

He sat up, and was reintroduced to the itchy pressure around his stomach. He yanked back the blanket to find a bandage wrapped around his midsection. Nezumi glanced up and raised his eyebrows at the dark-haired boy before him.

"Oh. Um. Right." Shion wet his lips. "There were some things that happened after I cut the wasp out… Hold on, let me…" He stumbled out of bed to grab the mirror hanging on the wall. He hugged the glass to his chest. "Try not to freak out, okay?"

Nezumi made no promises, and continued to stare at the lustrous strands woven between his fingers. Only when Shion approached with the mirror did he tear his eyes away.

His hair was white, so white it faintly shimmered when the light thrown from the lanterns flickered across it. It looked like it belonged on the head of someone fifty years older, yet his face showed no signs of aging, and his hair felt soft and healthy. What most struck him, though, was how drastically the change had sharpened his features into something almost otherworldly.

He grasped at the bandages around his torso. Shion had done an exemplary job wrapping them, and Nezumi grew impatient with how hard they were to unwind. He started ripping them any which way.

"That was another anomaly," Shion said in an almost whisper. "It started to form around the same time your hair changed."

The bandages fell away to reveal several red bands coiled around his stomach. The meandering line started at the jut of his hip and slithered up his torso, ending out of sight somewhere on his back.

"I checked, and the mark is only skin deep. Your circulation system hasn't been damaged or anything, so whatever it is, it isn't dangerous. But it doesn't seem to be fading either."

Nezumi ran his fingers over one of the bands. The skin was slightly raised, but otherwise it felt normal.

"We can't do anything about the scars," Shion continued. He adjusted his grip on the mirror, his hands leaving smudges on the glass in their wake. "We don't have skin grafts or any medical technology of that kind here, but they can easily be covered by your shirt, so that's good. As for your hair, we could dye it. That's perfectly manageable—"

"No need. I like it just fine as is."

"You… do?"

Nezumi raked his fingers through his hair, enjoying the reflection of it falling back into place with an almost translucent ripple. "Yeah. It's kind of alluring." He flicked his eyes up to Shion's. "Don't you think?"

"I…"

Nezumi meant to act innocent when he asked, but he found he couldn't help a smirk from spreading at the confusion that played across Shion's face.

"I think you're taking this very well," Shion huffed. "A little too well. Did you know this was going to happen?"

"No, but as far as battle scars go, these are pretty nice." He tilted his head at himself in the mirror. "The scar kind of looks like a snake, doesn't it?"

"That's a little ironic, considering snakes eat rats."

Nezumi chuckled. Shion lowered the mirror to rest against his feet and frowned at him.

"What? You envious?"

"Hardly," Shion muttered. "I was just thinking that now you're going to stand out—even more than you usually do. I didn't even know that was possible."

Nezumi ignored the possibility of this turning into a conversation about his manifold attractions and focused instead on Shion's appearance, the finer points of which were his raging bed head and the bags under his eyes.

"Speaking of looks," he drawled, moving to the edge of the bed, "did you perhaps embrace West Block grunge while I was out?"

"What?"

"You look like you've been run over by a freight train."

"Oh…" Shion's hand flew to his hair. "I haven't been sleeping much. Last night was the first decent sleep I've had in days…" His face suddenly soured. "It would've been better, though, if you hadn't kicked so much. You kicked me twice, you know."

Nezumi shrugged. "Your fault for crawling into bed with me. The reason for which you never explained, I might add."

"Well, it's fine," Shion sighed, his indignance receding just as quickly as it washed over him. "I didn't mind the kicking so much. At least then I knew you were alive."

Leave it to Shion to effectively kill the mood.

Nezumi reached to feel the back of his neck. There was a small bandage there over the incision. Shion caught the movement and dropped his eyes. He replaced the mirror on the wall and began fiddling with a pot on the table, moving it to the top of the heater. Nezumi cleared his throat.

"Thanks. For the help."

Shion nodded at the pot. "Of course."

"I have to admit, I was worried you wouldn't be able to handle the pressure. But you did pretty well, considering it was your first time putting someone under the knife."

Shion laughed nervously. "Doing it myself was a lot more stressful than watching Yuichi."

Nezumi furrowed his brow. "Yuichi…"

"He's Kaze's older brother. You've probably heard him mentioned."

"Hm. So he's a doctor-type like you, then?"

Shion shifted from side to side, his gaze glued to the pot. "Eeh… No, not really. He's the barber..."

"What? You learned surgery from a barber?"

"He's the only person around here who doesn't use a knife to kill people. And actually, there's a historical precedent for barber surgeons, so it's really not that weird."

"You've got to be kidding me." Nezumi shook his head. "Yoming was right; you are dangerous."

Shion smiled a little at the thought.

Nezumi reached for a shirt at the end of the bed. He had no idea if it was his or Shion's, but it was going on anyway. The air was too cold to be without one long, and he was feeling a little exposed as it was. Nezumi pushed himself up and peered over Shion's shoulder.

"What's that?"

"Potato soup. It's already made, I'm just heating it up."

Nezumi resisted the urge to cringe. He figured he might as well give Shion the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn't help remarking, "I thought I told you to leave the soup to me."

"You weren't exactly available the past few days. Next time. Besides, I put more salt in, so it should be okay."

Nezumi hummed under his breath and plunked down on the couch. The soup, when it was offered to him, looked innocent enough. But then so did the last one. He did not attempt to hide his wariness when he took a sip, and Shion was doing an even worse job of looking confident.

Nezumi's throat constricted.

It was too salty. Does he not taste test these before feeding them to me? Shion had been watching for his reaction, and he looked stricken when he perceived Nezumi's flinch of disgust.

"It's bad!" he squeaked.

Nezumi opened his mouth to tell him that, yes, yes it most certainly was.

"No, it's fine. You did a lot better with the salt this time." And then he took another sip.

The fuck did I just say? It's not fine! I'll have a heart attack if I eat this!

"I'm sorry, Nezumi. I guess I just really suck at making soup." Shion smiled sadly. "You don't have to force yourself. Here, there's still bread, eat this."

Nezumi gratefully accepted the alternative, while Shion took the soup and dumped it back into the pot with an unappetizing slosh. Nezumi nibbled the corner of the bread and Shion got up again to cook something else over the heater. He hoped it was tea. He wouldn't mind something to wash away the briny taste in his mouth.

Shion, however, returned to sit next to him with a plate of fish and chopsticks in his hand. He picked at it while Nezumi munched his bread with a frown.

"Why do you get fish, and I got soup?"

"You haven't eaten in days. I thought I'd start you out with something light, but…" Shion grimaced. "Anyway, you don't like fish."

"When did I ever say that?"

Shion lowered his chopsticks. "Last time I made it you said, 'If I wanted food poisoning, I can think of better foods to get sick on.' I formed an opinion from there."

"That's different. The fish here is a health hazard, but just because I don't want to get worms doesn't mean I don't like fish. I ate it all the time in No. 6."

"Mm. I'm sorry that our seafood falls below city standards, but there's nothing I can do about that. And I also don't have any more fish."

Shion plucked a crescent of bone from the meat with his chopsticks before popping the morsel into his mouth. He somehow managed to make the action look condescending. Something in his attitude reminded Nezumi of a conversation they had long ago.

"Shion, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Shion stiffened partway through chewing. "Okay…" he swallowed, his voice dropping in apprehension. Nezumi realized his mistake in wording his sentence so ominously. No doubt Shion was expecting more bad news.

"Caviar is actually fish eggs."

"…What?"

"I lied. Caviar's not shark meat, it's fish eggs."

Shion gaped at him.

Then: "Pft." He burst into a grin. "Oh, that. I looked that up the minute you fell asleep. It was the laughing that tipped me off. That was a mean joke, Nezumi." He tried to sound cross, but a series of airy laughs escaped his lips.

Even Nezumi felt inclined to smile at the memory. "You were being an ass. Still are sometimes."

"Yeah, okay, I know, but… I didn't know you back then."

"And you think you do now?"

There wasn't much venom in the words, but they both paused a moment to gauge the other's reaction.

"I hope so," Shion said carefully. "I mean," he bit his lip, "we slept together after all."

Shion peeked at him through his bangs. The violet of his eyes stood out more with the remnants of three sleepless nights to underscore it. There was a faint blush on his cheeks, and Nezumi couldn't help but find his demure reaction to his own tease amusing.

"Well played," he said, settling back against the couch. "Although next time, try not to blush like a virgin. It ruins the effect."

Shion's smile was soft, and when he turned away to polish off the rest of his fish, Nezumi detected an aspect of sadness to it. He waited while Shion ate, hoping he would open up about the reason on his own, but it didn't seem like he was going to be so lucky.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you acting gloomy all of a sudden?"

"I'm not. I was just thinking." Shion placed his plate down on the coffee table. When he faced Nezumi again, the traces of sadness were gone, replaced by a beaming smile that was almost too kind to be real. "So have you thought about when you'll go?"

"What're you talking about?"

"The operation was a success. There's nothing holding you here anymore. You can leave anytime you want."

Nezumi's eyes widened. That's right. The wasp had been cut out and Elyurias dispelled; he was free to do as he pleased. He could leave this place far behind, today if he chose. There was no reason to stay. Except… There was something scratching at the back of his mind.

You will destroy No. 6, Singer. You will do this soon or everyone in this land will perish. There will not be another chance.

Elyurias's parting words. The single proviso She attached to her leave-taking. Of course, he could ignore it and walk away still, but that meant he'd be abandoning West Block to the mercy—or rather wrath—of Elyurias. Was he willing to make that sacrifice?

Shion tilted his head at his silence. Nezumi frowned.

"Yeah, about that… I've decided to stay until you guys destroy the Correctional Facility."

Shion's smile melted. "Why? I thought you didn't care about that."

Nezumi shrugged, aiming to be cavalier. "I started the project, I might as well finish it. I don't really care for your cause, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy watching No. 6 burn. I've said as much before. Besides, I'd feel guilty if you guys died failing to use my drives, and I don't want to deal with that kind of emotional baggage."

That was weak reasoning and they both knew it. Shion was looking at him like he thought every word he spoke was bullshit, and Nezumi knew it was unlikely that he would be able to come up with an excuse that would convince him fully.

Of course, he could just tell Shion the truth. But it seemed a bit cruel to have to inform him that although he succeeded in preserving one life, he did so only to condemn everyone else, himself included, to death if they failed to destroy No. 6 in a timely manner. He already had enough pressure with the impending Hunt and the Correctional Facility job; Nezumi was reluctant to add anything more to his plate. There must be a better justification. One that Shion would at least have some trouble dismissing.

"Think of it as payback," he continued lightly. "I'm fulfilling my debt."

"Your debt?"

"You helped me out, so I'm honor bound to repay the favor. I don't like to leave favors outstanding, so until my debt is cleared, I won't feel comfortable skipping town. That's just how it is."

"Nezumi. You don't have to feel indebted to me. I wanted to do it. It was as much a selfish decision on my part as it was anything else."

Nezumi narrowed his eyes. "Are you looking down on me?"

Shion started. "What? No, I'm—"

"I know you have difficulties understanding the concept of pride and its aversion to obligation, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't belittle my rationale."

That shut him up. Shion didn't look completely convinced, but Nezumi had planted enough seeds of doubt in his mind that he wasn't likely to question his motivation again. This would suffice for the moment.

Nezumi steered the conversation in another direction, toward a question of his own.

"So," he lilted, breaking the atmosphere with a coy smile. "Was that joke before an invitation for me to sleep in your bed? Because now that I know you have a halfway decent mattress, I have absolutely no intention of returning to the couch."

Shion's mouth popped open, but he had the decency to close it immediately. "Oh. Um, sure. If you don't mind sharing, that is."

"I do mind, but seeing as it's your bed, I'm not really allowed to complain, am I?"

"I guess."

"All I ask is that you keep your hands to yourself. I know I'm hard to resist, with the new hair especially, but I won't tolerate any nighttime groping."

Shion laughed. "Don't worry, I know better than that. You'd probably kick me if I tried."

"Damn straight."

XXXX

Shion suggested that they pay a visit to the Resistance headquarters as soon as Nezumi was well enough. He was anxious to assure everyone that they weren't dead and apologize for the long absence. Plus, he wanted to deliver the rifles he had stashed in his organ back to headquarters. If the Hunt was coming, they needed all the firepower they had. Nezumi reluctantly agreed to make an appearance the next afternoon. Whether he liked it or not, thanks to Elyurias he was more invested in the cause than he ever wanted to be. If their plan for the Correctional Facility was going to work, he had to focus all his skills into it.

He hoped the robot had returned with the drives by now. When Shion asked if he had any useful contacts in No. 6, Kaoru was the first to come to mind, partially because they were the only person he ever talked to—period—and partially because they were the only person he knew that was suspicious of the city. Whether Kaoru decided to help Shion's contact out, Nezumi could trust they wouldn't endanger the mission by tattling. He had less trust in their inclination to risk their safety for him, but it was worth a shot, even if it was a long one.

If the drives aren't here by now, then they're probably never coming. And then we're screwed. Such dispiriting thoughts were not to be dwelt upon, however.

When it came time to leave, Shion fretted over Nezumi's hair, asking several times if he wouldn't rather borrow a hat, despite Nezumi's firm rejections. He didn't think his hair was anything to be embarrassed about; it was proof that he had survived, he was proud of it, and he wasn't going to hide it, no matter how many stares it drew. Staring he could handle.

"It's not a matter of pride, but precaution, Nezumi," Shion groused. "Will you at least pull the superfibre up while we're in the street?" To this Nezumi finally relented.

The atmosphere in the market was tense. He could see the worry and anger pinched into the creases of people's faces. It had the effect of making them more conversational than they were prone to be any other day. Nezumi caught snatches of conversation as he and Shion threaded through the crowd.

"The Disposers and Resistance got all the guns in this place! What about us, huh?"

"I ain't staying. Soon as I sell the rest of this junk, I'm outta here."

"Just because someone shot at him, doesn't mean the army's coming. You ask me, it was probably some guy with a bone to pick with Yoming."

This last tidbit intrigued Nezumi, and a little bit longer eavesdropping and a few questions to Shion informed him that someone had apparently tried to assassinate Yoming. They failed, unfortunately, but the result was that the Resistance was in chaos. The Resistance and its perils were a frequent topic of conversation amongst the townspeople, but the words whispered most under everyone's breath were "the Hunt." The attempt on Yoming's life was a harbinger.

At least they have forewarning, he thought. He said as much to Shion.

"I suppose. But it doesn't make defending ourselves any easier. Since Yoming started the Resistance we've had a little more hope, but still… It's a good thing Yoming wasn't killed. Morale is already bad enough." Shion's face was solemn as he looked around at the West Block residents. "We have our hands full."

The mood in headquarters was equally strained, but while the chatter on the streets was fearful and belligerent, the members spoke in level tones, working diligently all the while. They were stressed, clearly, but they presented themselves with reasonable composure. Yoming occupied his usual place at the back of the room. He and a woman were locked in what looked like a heated debate, but they kept their voices too low for any of it to be intelligible. A young man and woman were watching them with weary faces from their perches atop the boxes in the alcove. They had splints on their leg and arm respectively, so it was more likely they were reacting to personal pain rather than whatever they overheard.

Everyone looked so busy, that Nezumi and Shion placed the rifles they were carrying on a pew off to the side, rather than trying to find someone to hand them to. Yamase caught their eye as they walked a little farther into the room. He smiled and inclined his head. He looked genuinely happy to see them, although perhaps more because of Shion than him. The inherent relief in the greeting felt out of place among the somber attitudes of the rest of the company.

Nezumi flicked the superfibre cloth off his head just to see what effect it would have on him. Yamase blinked and frowned a little, but as far as reactions went, it was unsatisfying. He should've expected as much from a man who was known and valued for his discretion. Kaze would be a better object of study. Kaze was leaning against a table at the center of the room talking to Safu, who appeared to be listening with one ear only.

"Safu! Kaze!"

Their heads weren't the only ones to whip around at the sound of Shion's cry, but it was only Safu and Kaze who continued to stare. Safu's eyes widened, and the expression with which she studied Shion was odd, almost terrified. Nezumi would have expected her to rush over and rain questions and concerns upon his head, but she remained rooted to her spot by the table. When her dark eyes panned to Nezumi they narrowed to slits. He could tell she noticed his hair, but she showed no shock, only barely reined in contempt. Nezumi almost whistled; it'd been a while since she'd glared murder at him.

He was distracted from his observations by Kaze's gaping. "Shit, man. What happened?"

"Hello again, Kaze."

"Don't 'hello' me all casual." He walked to him and leered. "What's up with that hair? Is it real?" He reached out to feel it, but Nezumi drew back.

"You can look, but don't touch."

Kaze raised a single eyebrow, and Nezumi realized that the hair had at last grown back completely. Now he could make expressions of disapproving confusion as well as anyone else.

Shion stepped up. "Some stuff happened. It's a long story."

"Mm." Kaze sobered. "Speaking of stuff that happened, Yoming was shot at, did you hear?"

"I did." Shion's gaze drifted momentarily toward Safu. She had gone back to looking down at the papers on the table and appeared to have no intention of speaking to anyone. "But I also heard he wasn't injured," he finished.

"Yeah, well, he wasn't, but two of our guys got shot for real. Yuichi's fine at surgery, but he sucks at everything else, and those guys aren't looking too good. I'd check on them to make sure they don't have infections or something." Shion leaned over and peered at the sorry-looking couple slumped on the boxes. "But careful with the boss. He was pissed about you going AWOL, and now he's in a worse mood because of everything that's gone down. Tread lightly, alright?"

"Thanks, Kaze."

Nezumi smiled drolly when Shion went directly to Yoming and invited him to chew him out. He supposed it was the safest way with the man. He could only hear bits about duty and respect and other cause-related vocabulary, but Shion bore it with quiet apology and bowed low when Yoming had finished. Yoming scowled and pointed in the direction of his wounded comrades.

Nezumi felt a light tug on his hair and turned to glare at Kaze. "It's real. And what did I say about touching?"

Kaze held up his hands defensively. "Alright, alright, but it's killing me. I mean, you disappear for three days and you come back with a dye job? What's with that?"

"It's not a dye job."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say. So?"

Kaze didn't look like he'd give up. Shouldn't have rejected the dye excuse… Telling the truth was impossible, obviously, so he went with sarcasm.

"Spending three days shut up in a room with Shion made me age a century."

Kaze snorted, but Nezumi was more interested in Safu. She had barely moved a muscle since Shion and he came into headquarters, but she moved now.

She pushed back from the table and stalked toward them, and there was such a familiar seething rage emanating from her that Nezumi knew what was coming, even before Safu's hand came down with dizzying force across his cheek.

The sharp crack of the slap reverberated through the church, thanks to the excellent acoustics, and everyone's attention was drawn to them by the time the echo died. Safu didn't stick around to be gawked at. She looked barely placated as she stepped around him and headed straight out the door. Nezumi probed the inside of his cheek to check for cuts. It was clean, but he could still taste the vibrations of the hit on his tongue.

"Yikes." Kaze winced. "You okay? That sounded like it hurt."

"I'm fine." It had hurt a little, but he was more surprised by Safu's ferocity.

Kaze glanced at the door. "I don't know what's gotten into her, but Safu's been in a really horrible mood lately… Guess you just pushed her last button."

The comment was almost funny, considering he had been using Shion to push her buttons since the day he met her.

That was a lot of rage, though. I've said worse, so why is she snapping at me now? It feels like I'm missing something.

He caught Shion's eye. The boy had been crouched in front of the wounded man's leg, wrapping his calf with a medical dressing, but he had twisted around when he heard the slap and was now gaping openly at Nezumi. Shion turned back to the man and appeared to have said something, for he nodded and took the gauze from him. Shion pushed off the ground and hurried over.

"Are you okay?" He reached up, but stopped himself and dropped his hand. "What happened?"

Nezumi sighed. "It's fine. I deserved it."

"How did you deserve that?"

"Don't you have patients to take care of? Get back over there before Yoming murders you."

Shion shook his head. "I'm sorry, Nezumi. It's me Safu's mad at, not you. I'll go talk to her."

"I already told you it's fine."

But Shion was already on his way to the door. Nezumi pressed his mouth into a line and turned to Kaze. He half-expected him to walk out the door, too. Instead, Kaze gave him a quizzical look.

"Stress," he observed as if it was the answer to all of their mysteries. Maybe it was. Kaze scratched at a patch of skin on his forearm and Nezumi realized it was pink and shiny. He had similar, although milder, burn marks on his hands. "Well!" Kaze said. "I guess since Safu ran off, I get to tell you the only good news we have: the drives arrived."

Nezumi picked the mouse off the table and poured the drives from its compartment into his hand. He frowned.

"There were only two when the mouse came?"

"Hm? Yeah. Why?"

What happened to the third one…? One under the desk, one under the couch, and one in his bag, separated just in case any were discovered. Nezumi cursed under his breath. My bag. Of course. They must have destroyed it. How could he have forgotten? He had placed the third drive in his workbag for safekeeping, and he had left the bag behind when the Security Bureau ambushed him. Naturally, when they erased him from the city's records they would've done away with all of his personal property.

Nezumi mussed his bangs. "How tedious."

"What? Are we missing one?" Kaze paled, and Nezumi realized that he was just as panic-stricken as the rest. He covered it up better than the others with jokes and an easiness of manner, but the blitheness had evaporated from his demeanor.

"We are, but it's not a problem. I'll just rewrite that part of the code when I compile them. It'll be annoying, but I can do it."

There was a reason why that drive was kept on his person. It was the easiest and most innocuous string of code, the least incriminating should someone check through the contents of his bag. It wasn't impossible to rewrite it by memory.

Kaze nodded. "Good. That's good. I'll let you get to it, then." Kaze clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You're a lifesaver, man."

Nezumi watched him walk away. He shifted his jaw and then turned to boot up the computer.

"They're all fools," he muttered.

He uploaded the codes on the drives and began hunting in the sequence for the holes in the program. The missing data wasn't too much or too complicated, but even so, he realized that rewriting it would take a day or two. Let's just hope the Hunt doesn't come before then.

Twenty minutes into his work, the crow swooped down from the rafters and alighted on the table. It clicked a few times and Nezumi spared it a glance, catching a glint against the sleek black down of its chest. Nezumi was pleased with how well the miniature camera blended in with the crow's feathers. He had done an excellent job, if he said so himself. Not that Yoming acknowledged it with anything more eloquent than a grunt of approval. However, knowing the capabilities of his surveillance, he didn't want it anywhere near him.

He made a sharp noise and waved it away. The bird squawked angrily and fluttered to its master. Yoming didn't even flinch when it landed on his shoulder. He was too focused on checking through their boxes to notice, perhaps, because he seemed to be just as ignorant of the young man loitering behind him. He looked vaguely familiar, although Nezumi couldn't place why. Regardless, it was evident he was in earnest to speak with Yoming, judging by the way he was wringing his bandana.

Nezumi returned to the computer screen, but he couldn't help checking the man's status every once in a while. It took him eight minutes standing there to finally muster enough courage to speak.

"Mr. Yoming, sir?"

Yoming turned half around. His eyes immediately fell on the bandana in the man's hands, and he turned fully to face him. "Yes, Comrade?"

"S-sir." The man shifted. "Sir, I'm very sorry to bother you at such a critical time, but I have a request. I…"

Yoming crossed his arms and waited, his black eyes scarcely ever blinking. Nezumi couldn't see how the young man took it, but he couldn't imagine it helped to soothe his nerves.

"I would like resign from the Resistance!" the man blurted. He doubled over into the straightest, deepest bow Nezumi had ever seen. "Forgive me! I know it's cowardly, but I have a family that needs me. If I die in combat, there will be no one to provide for them, and I— Please understand, I can't stay!" The desperation of the man's voice jostled Nezumi's recognition, and he realized that he did know him; this was the man who had begged Shion's help when his wife was in labor.

Yoming was impassive. He tapped his finger intermittently against his arm, but other than that he made no indication of responding. The young man remained bent over as the seconds ticked by. Finally, Yoming sighed.

"Get up, there's no need for that. What's your name, son?"

The man straightened. "Aki, sir."

Yoming nodded. "Well, Aki, I can't fault you for wanting to protect your family, and if you truly feel that being in the Resistance is a death sentence, then I won't hold you back. I'm sorry you feel that way, of course, and I'm sorry to see you go, but I won't stop you if that's what you decide to do. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I really am, but…" The man hung his head and held out his bandana to Yoming. "It's been a pleasure serving under you."

Yoming didn't even look at the bandana. He kept his gaze trained on the other man's face. "Before I take that, I have to warn you that it's highly probable you will be targeted by No. 6, even if you cut ties with the Resistance."

The man flinched back. "Sir?"

"We've known for some time that No. 6 has satellites watching our every move. It's very likely they know our numbers and the faces of our members, and when they come down here, we'll be the first people they'll be gunning for. Do you have any weapons issued to you by the Resistance?"

"Yes, sir, a rifle."

"Just a rifle?" The man nodded. "Right. Well, you're going to have to return that."

"What?"

Yoming shook his head. "I wish I could furnish every civilian with a weapon, but as it stands, the Resistance can only afford to give guns to those who are willing to fight for the cause. You understand, don't you?"

The young man didn't say anything.

"If you don't have any other way of protecting your family without that rifle, the only thing I can suggest is that you lie low until the Hunt passes." Yoming frowned. "I'm not trying to scare you, Aki. I'm just laying down the facts, so you'll be prepared when the time comes. As I said, I won't try to change your opinion if you're set on resigning, but before I take that bandana from you, I'll ask again. Are you sure you want to leave the Resistance?"

"I…" The young man balled the bandana in his fist. "I… think I'll stay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright, then." Yoming nodded, a proud smile ghosting over his lips. "I know times seem dark right now, but stay strong, Comrade Aki. There is nothing to fear; we will be victorious."

"That's bullshit."

Yoming's genial mask slipped off. "You have something to say, Elite?"

Nezumi pushed out of his chair. "Yeah. You're an asshole."

"Nezumi," someone hissed from off to the side. He was fairly certain it was Kaze.

"You're dismissed," Yoming barked to the young man, who shrunk back and away. Yoming did a quick sweep of the room and Nezumi realized he must have been looking for Shion.

"I have to give it to you; you are by far the most manipulative bastard I've ever met. Are you really so hard up that you have to threaten your underlings to keep them from running off?"

There was a clamor from behind him and Nezumi tossed a brief glance back. Yamase was ushering people from the room. The members looked disgruntled, some curious, some actually angry, but hardly anyone protested as they were herded out. In the end, only he, Yoming, Kaze, and Yamase remained. Yoming rolled his shoulder and the crow, too, departed.

So this is to be a private performance, then. Too bad.

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut about things that don't concern you," Yoming growled. "I never threatened anyone, everything I told that man was the truth."

"The truth? No, what you just told that man was a fallacy. And if you didn't intend to bend the truth to suit your own wishes, then that makes you stupid as well as manipulative."

The thrust landed just so. Yoming tensed and Nezumi allowed a wry smile to grace his lips.

"You're referring to what I said about No. 6's armies, I assume." Yoming squared his shoulders and faced him, a power stance to combat Nezumi's condescension. He realized he had to play the game if he was going to save face. "The city perceives us as a threat, do you think there isn't a real possibility they'll want every one of us eradicated?"

"Oh, sure, the possibility is there, but it's so infinitesimal it's hardly worth entertaining. No. 6 may have satellites trained on West Block, but I can tell you they sure as hell don't give a shit about small fry like that guy. How much free time do you think they have? They're not going to waste ammunition on headhunting the entire organization when they could just go straight to the source. The only person that has to worry about attempts on their life is you. But I'm sure you know all this already."

"That's your opinion, and since you can no more prove it than I can prove mine, it's moot. Fine, yes, I admit I gave that man a little push, but it had to be done. We need every man and woman to unite against No. 6—and I mean every last one. The Hunt is designed to cull our population, keep us weak and scared so we won't be a threat. The Resistance is the only thing standing in the way of that happening again. We represent order and strength, and if my men start running off, as you so eloquently put it, that image falls apart, and so does West Block's future. We don't have the luxury of cowardice. I'm trying to save lives."

"By dictating how your people should use them, and under what circumstances you'll allow them to be sacrificed? That's not really your decision."

Well this sounds familiar.

Yoming shook his head. "I was charged with defending this town against the likes of No. 6. The men and women who join the Resistance are aware of the risks and they trust me to use our resources wisely; that includes manpower."

"It's not trust in you that keeps them in the Resistance. It's fear, and you're preying on it." Nezumi sneered. "I seem to recall a certain Holy City that uses similar tactics to keep people in line."

A feral snarl tore from Yoming's throat. "How dare you!" He took an aggressive step toward him and Nezumi's hand closed around the knife in his pocket. "I work tirelessly day in and day out for this organization, and I do it for everyone. For these people who have lost their sons, daughters, wives, husbands—for my wife and son, who committed no greater crime than walking down the fucking street when No. 6 open fired! You have no right to criticize me or my methods when it's you, your people who are responsible for this and for every fucking nightmare that's ever happened to this place."

A dangerous light glinted in Yoming's eyes and Nezumi did a quick run through of all the vital points on the human body. He tensed when the man took another step closer.

Kaze slipped between them.

"Whoa, whoa, chill out, guys! C'mon, is this really what we want to be doing right now?"

"Get out of my way," Yoming ground out.

"With all due respect, didn't you just say that we need every single one of us if we're going to—"

"Not him. He's one of them."

"Not anymore. He's one of us now—"

"Goddammit, Kaze!" Yoming roared. "I'd expect this from Shion, but you? You know the shit we've had to pull just to make this work, what we've been through—what I've been through. I've poured two years of my life into trying to maintain some sense of order in this hellhole, and for what?"

The words rang out, crackling like thunder in the hollow of the church. No one moved for a few savage moments. The threat in Yoming's eyes still glowed hot, and Nezumi had yet to relinquish his hold on his hidden knife. Kaze swallowed between them.

"It doesn't matter what he thinks," Yoming hissed at last. "This is our cause. I'll do what it takes to make sure justice is served, and if a few men are sacrificed in the effort, then so be it." Yoming's glare held enough acid in it for Nezumi to feel its burn, even through Kaze. "Now get out."

"Let's go, Nezumi," Kaze said. When they were halfway across the room, he added in a barely audible whisper, "Before he fucking kills us both."