02. so our speculation is endless

-x-

"Shinsuke, you should lie down."

"But – "

"You have a high fever. Go lie down. I'm going out to buy some medicine. I'll be right back."

No, he wants to say. Don't –

Takasugi jerked awake when the phone rang.

Momentarily disoriented, he stared at the phone, remembering it being a gray touch-tone phone and not a black cellphone. He remembered picking it up, half-asleep and feverish, and hearing the news from a solemn voice. He remembered going to the hospital in the rain, dazed and cold, and fighting the nurses who claimed he was too ill to speak to the police. He remembered looking into the indifferent eyes of a monocled officer, furious but helpless, and then waking up in a hospital bed a little too late.

The ringing cut off and Takasugi jolted, as if a hypnotist had snapped her fingers to bring him back to the present. Gritting his teeth, he recalled: That was then, this is now. There could be no more voices on the other side of the telephone to take away people important to him, because unlike four years ago, he had nothing left to be taken from him.

The phone beeped. A new voice message. A beat later, he flipped open the phone only to shut it again, annoyed, when the screen displayed a missed call from Zura. In hindsight, it made sense. Nobody but the wig-head would call him in between classes, but a part of him had perhaps expected a call from an unfamiliar number. Telemarketing, maybe, or a wrong number, because the call he had been waiting for would never come, and no one else with any reason to contact him would have his number.

His gaze went from the clock to the calendar, and he was back in the rain again, face-to-face with the redhead wearing a smile that said absolutely nothing. He wasn't supposed to get into fights for the rest of the week, but he had questions, and they were getting answers. Sitting up on his bed, he lifted a corner of the curtain and peered out the window, closing his eyes when the bright sunlight hit his face, warm against his skin.

Time to pay Yato High a visit.

-x-

Under the glare of the sun, the rundown building of Yato Industrial High appeared lifeless instead of foreboding. The graffiti on the gray, stained walls spoke of threats and pride, yet those words seemed empty, carrying little of the weight in the rumors circulating about the students of Yato High. Frowning, Takasugi looked through the school gates, searching among the scattered groups of students, and turned when he heard a sound from the wall next to him. He paused when he caught sight of a moonflower tattoo on the other person's neck.

"The fuck are you doing here," Yagan said from atop the wall, taken aback and upset.

Mirroring Yagan's antipathy, Takasugi said, "I have no business with you."

"Yeah? Well I do with you," Yagan said and jumped off the wall, landing on his feet with a thud. "We got a fight to finish." Rolling his shoulders, he continued with a dark smile, "Lucky you, it's one-on-one today."

Narrowing his good eye, Takasugi took a step back and ducked when the first blow came at his head. He swept past Yagan, backing up as he tracked and dodged his opponent's punches and kicks. It was pissing him off that he couldn't fight back, and he could tell from Yagan's infuriated expression that it was pissing him off, too.

"Are you a fucking pussy?" Yagan yelled, increasing the pace of his strikes. "No balls to fight me when there's no teacher watching your back, is it?!"

Takasugi clenched his jaw, knowing that he was at the limit of his patience. Where exactly was the line between "picking a fight" and "defending yourself"? What exactly did he have to lose if he were expelled? The only people he would disappoint were dead and had been for years. Nothing would change. He was standing here, doing this, because they were dead. Killed. Murdered. His parents. His guardian. Maybe in another world, the two cars didn't collide on the highway. Maybe in another lifetime, Shoyo-sensei didn't leave the house to buy medicine. But not in this world, not in this lifetime.

Adjusting his footing, Takasugi fisted his hands, ready to block and counter the next attack, but he paused when he noticed Yagan's widened eyes directed at something behind him. Before he could turn around and before Yagan could pull back the strike, someone reached past his shoulder and grabbed Yagan's fist, stopping the punch. A shadow fell overhead, and he looked up, finding a purple umbrella blocking the sun.

"Kamui," Yagan growled.

"It's not nice to steal someone else's prey," Kamui said, smiling. Something fleeted across his face, and the pitch of his voice dropped. "Back off. He's mine."

Yagan yanked his hand out of Kamui's grasp, trying not to wince, but the red marks on his hand reflected nothing but pain. His nostrils flared, and he glared at Takasugi, his expression seething with poison as he slowly backed away. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something, but he only threw Kamui a dirty glance before he turned and stalked off.

Once Yagan was out of sight, Takasugi looked over his shoulder, suddenly becoming aware of how close Kamui was standing. Their eyes met, and an odd weight settled on his chest when he realized the warmth on his back wasn't from the sun but a person.

"I don't really get it," said Kamui, holding Takasugi's gaze. "But I'm assuming you have a very good reason for not fighting back, otherwise I'm gonna be disappointed."

Letting out a small, bitter laugh, Takasugi looked away and said, "It's just an empty promise, nothing more." Just empty words to a person and a grave. He stepped to the side to face Kamui and continued, feeling the coolness on his back, "You went to Harusame High before you transferred to Yato High."

"Yeah," Kamui said with a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"Did you also attend Harusame Middle School?"

"For a bit. Why are you asking?"

Takasugi paused when he heard Kamui's response. "Were you there four years ago?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

Kamui tilted his head while his gaze drifted to the sky, absorbed and distant. "No," he said simply and smiled at Takasugi. "What happened at the school four years ago?"

Except for a faint trace of curiosity, Kamui's expression was unreadable. A thousand new questions popped into Takasugi's head as he tried to find a crack in the smiling facade, but he knew that any answer he received now would lead to the same dead end. He looked away and said, "Never mind. I'm done here." He walked past Kamui, unable to shake off the unease and the lingering warmth on his back.