Disclaimer: Neither Zombie Loan nor any of the characters in it belong to me. They all belong to the wonderful duo that is Peach Pit.

: All Things Cold :

Chapter 2

Three days later, Shito sat in Bekkou's office and fought the urge to fidget.

The world seemed to have dimmed just a little bit more afterwards. Somehow.

Shito could never have explained it, not even had he been asked, how the world was to him. If he had to search for an apt description, absolutely had to, he would probably have likened it to an old photograph. Some forms blurred and were indistinct, and others stood out too sharp relief, so much so that he could not bear to look at them sometimes. Colours were pale and faded, tastes muted.

The city, to Shito, was like an old photograph. Even with Chika in it, it had seemed that way. He had spent long years lingering in shadows of almost-monotone that swept up and around him. It was only once in a while- now and again- that something…. someone clicked in Shito's mind.

Occasionally, there would be someone who neither stood out too much in that sharp relief, nor seemed quite so jaded as the rest of the world… and if they could engage him, just right, then for a few scant moments, Shito's world would bloom into full colour.

Akatsuki Chika, whether Shito liked it or not- and he most certainly did not- was one of those few people.

An idiot. Yes. But one of those few nonetheless.

And three days on, Shito was already tiring of the return to that dull monotone.

"Well, Yuuta tells me Chika-kun seems to be stable finally, so I expect everything will be back to normal before long."

The comment was as offhanded as Bekkou's usually were, but heavy lidded eyes were as bright and shrewd as always behind those spectacles.

Shito eyed him from where he sat, too straight, in the chair Bekkou had ushered him into. Bekkou spoke as though Chika was awake, as though Chika had woken, as though Chika had done anything more than lie there, unresponsive to the world around him for the past eighty-seven hours, and twenty-six minutes.

Not that Shito was counting.

Not that Shito planned on doing anything more than throttling the idiot once he did regain consciousness. Maybe Shito would put a bullet through one of his legs. Just to ensure he stayed in bed of course, because knowing Chika the insufferable idiot would want to be up and about before it was physically possible to be so. Or sanely plausible.

Bekkou steeped his fingers and glanced down at his paperwork.

"Of course… this doesn't excuse you from this month's payment…"

Shito's eyes refocused, hardening at the Ferryman. He did not frown, but he half wanted to. Naturally it would be all business with Bekkou. Though even Shito had seen something akin to worry on that ever calm expression when faced with a nearly dead Akatsuki Chika.

For some unfathomable reason, Shito felt his jaw harden, found himself glaring at Bekkou when logically, he was aware that Bekkou had nothing to do with this-

Chika had nearly died.

"You seem to be a little behind at the moment-"

"We'll catch up," Shito interrupted smoothly and folded his hands in his lap, fighting the urge to clench them. He focused angry eyes beyond Bekkou, past his window and to the oblivious world outside.

Chika had nearly died, that was the crux of his discontent and Shito knew it. The idiot blundered ahead, as the idiot always blundered ahead, taking on something that he could not stand up against. Because of course, Chika could take on the world. What was something he had never seen before? That existed beyond the realm of his understanding? How many times had Shito told him- cautioned him- have a plan before you go charging in blindly! Think tactics instead of just randomly hacking away at your opponent and hoping it will work!

Chika had nearly died and-

"I'm sure you will," Bekkou agreed, interrupting Shito's mental tirade with the same tranquil certitude as he did everything else. Shito found himself scowling at Bekkou before he could quite stop himself.

No. Nothing to do with this, but Shito knew better than to believe the mild mannered gaze was just a mild mannered gaze.

The Ferryman had only asked what had happened in relation to Chika's condition. There were no questions about their opponent. No queries on whether Shito knew anything about it, on why he had not stopped it, on what it had looked like, if he had-

Nothing. Bekkou had asked him nothing in this regard and it made Shito naturally suspicious.

The topic of how much this would cost he and Chika had not come up either. Yet. Shito had no doubt it would, in due time. Bekkou was nothing if not a businessman, first and foremost.

It was possible that the Ferryman was simply waiting for Chika to regain consciousness before he slapped him with how much this particular life saving venture had cost him… possibly giving Chika a heart attack in the process, and bringing them all right back to square one-

… if Chika's heart were to beat that is.

Shito found himself frowning again and tried to ease the expression from his face. When he refocused his eyes on Bekkou, the Ferryman had his head buried in the newspaper and Shito had to blink at the disregard he was being paid.

It seemed their conversation was over.

"It's only a suggestion, but perhaps some sleep wouldn't be amiss," Bekkou mentioned, from somewhere behind the business section.

This time, Shito did not bother to hide the scowl that exploded onto his features. And because it felt good to do so, he snorted derisively, and rose from Bekkou's uncomfortable furniture – Chika had once commented that Bekkou probably kept them that way to prevent people from getting too comfortable and thusly lingering in his office – resisting the urge to iron out the kinks in his back.

"I'm fine," he dismissed.

He had found that being what he was long enough diminished the need for sleep. It was just another human thing that Shito did not need. He would admit however, that sleeping helped him to pass the time and that sometimes his mind got weary from simply being awake.

"I see." Bekkou it seemed, did not miss a beat, "Then, perhaps you could take this to Michiru-san."

Shito turned back to the Ferryman, having already halfway to the door. Bekkou blinked owlishly at him, utter obliviousness written on his face. Shito did not buy it for a second and eyed the little bentou box sitting on his desk.

Unable to help it he raised an eyebrow with the query he would not voice.

Bekkou understood however. He ruffled his newspaper, already scanning the stock market reports.

"Koyomi-san left it behind this morning when she stopped by… I believe it's for Michiru-san…" was all he said.

Shito drew back to the desk with a slow nod, reluctance in every movement.

"Ah."

Michiru. Who had not left Chika since they had gotten him back to the dorms. Who Shito had not seen since he had left…

It was a waste of time anyway, sitting by the idiot's bedside in a meaningless vigil. What good would it do? All Michiru was doing was exhausting herself for a moron in too deep a sleep to notice eitherway. Shito imagined that even if Chika were awake, he wouldn't appreciate the fact.

A complete waste of time.

He took the bento without another word to Bekkou. And in his eagerness to be gone from the office and its occupant, he missed the glint of those spectacles from over the top of that newspaper as he stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

The bang of the door echoed in a most satisfying manner as Shito paced down the hallway.

Michiru was an idiot for waiting with Chika. Chika was an idiot for getting himself into that mess. For nearly dying. It would set them back. It would set them back months. They did not have time. Chika did not have time.

He did not use the elevator to descend. It was a strange machine in a strange world that had changed half a century ago without Shito's permission.

You were not supposed to feel it so intently as an immortal, Shito knew. Time. People thought this. But you did. Sometimes you felt it all the more intently.

How many months until their time was up.

How many days since Chika had gotten himself into this mess.

How many hours….

Shito knew of course. Colours and people could fade, but he always remembered 'when' he was. He knew exactly.

Six hours threading the line between dead and deader as Bekkou and Yuuta did everything they could to sustain Chika, whilst still keeping him… Chika. There was only so much they could do. He was a zombie. There were only so many lines that could be crossed. Chika was not a human anymore.

Nine hours after that where Chika wavered between safety and borderline critical, and Yuuta had been as exhausted as Shito had ever seen him.

Another fourteen hours still where continuous vigilance was maintained on Chika's too still form and it was Michiru who had lamented that they could not even attach a heart monitor. They could not even watch his chest rise and fall and take comfort in that. He had no heartbeat, she had said. He did not even need to breathe…

Her voice had echoed loud and empty in the small room and she had sounded so very afraid.

Shito had left after that. He had not gone back.

Fifty-eight hours ago. Shito had felt every minute.

'Still as death' the saying went. It had rang too true for Shito only once in his long lifetime. At least, up until three days ago.

The wounds were not merely physical, and Shito knew this was the problem. No, the wounds were also metaphysical, and Shito was only aware of a handful of people who could harm the already-dead in such a manner. Even less who might have cause to do so to Akatsuki Chika.

And there was only one person who would do it in the way that it had been done to him.

But Shito wanted Chika to wake before he did anything, went anywhere. He wanted to know first, if he would be making the trip to demand answers or to exact vengeance.

Either way, Toho of the Xu Fu had a lot to answer for.

: End of Chapter 2 :

And the plot thickens. Or something.

No Chika this chapter. He's busy being all victim-y and unconscious. But still cute.