Chapter 1

I'm terrified of these four walls

Phantoms.

They played in his mind, black shadows with glaring red. They surrounded him, holding him down, so heavy, so many that he could barely fight beneath them all. One of them came at him, grabbing him and making him stare into their eyeless face, and even though they had no face it was as if he could feel them forcing their fingers into his mind, forcing his thoughts any way they liked …

I jerked as I woke up, my heart pounding. My head hurt and the pain seemed to chase away whatever fragments were left of my dream—not that there were many. For a few long moments I could only lay there, my heartbeat pounding in my veins and my body aching with its injuries as I breathed. The air in the hospital was still, but I could hear the sounds of machines and people moving in the distance. I tried to talk, to call out for someone, but it demanded too deep a breath for me to manage.

"Ungh …"

It hurt. Fuck, it hurt.

Footsteps. "Sir?"

I breathed out and turned my head toward the voice, a female one, one I wasn't sure I'd heard before.

"W—water …?" I croaked, my voice catching in my throat.

"Of—of course, Sir." The sound of the water being poured seemed loud, and she didn't let me drink for nearly as long as I'd have liked. I made a slight noise of discontent, but it was too exhausting to argue; about all I could or wanted to do was sink back into the bedding. My body cooled from the sweat of my uncomfortable sleep, leaving me feeling grimy but far too weak to do anything about it.

Someone drew my blankets down, and I felt light touches on my skin as the nurse checked my bandages and then—what was she doing? She was dragging something moist down my arms, across my forehead, over my chest. I spent a few minutes wondering what that was before realising it was a sponge, that she was giving me a bath, and of course by then she'd moved on to everywhere else and I felt movement underneath my blankets—

My stomach jolted. All of a sudden my hands were moving, catching her wrists and gripping them firmly. There came a squeak through the ringing in my ears as pain lashed down my arm and side, and for a few moments the world swirled. I heard a strangled groan of pain beneath a barely controlled call for help, but didn't realise at first that the sound was mine—at least, not until I heard running footsteps and someone seized my arms. Urgent voices babbled at each other overhead—all except for the only one I recognised. Kitano.

"Wataru? Wataru, can you understand me? It's—it's all right, Wataru, you can let go …"

Let go?

Dimly I realised I was still clutching the nurse's wrists and released her, still trying to breathe through the throbbing throughout my body.

"What happened?"

It wasn't directed at me. The nurse answered, sounding shaken. "I—I was just washing under his blankets, Doctor."

Yes. Right. I shivered, feeling cold without the covers on. Kitano seemed to realise it, because he pulled it up as far as he could without interfering with the check he was doing on my wounds. "Warn him next time."

His tone was sharp; I flinched and my body throbbed.

"I'd already washed down his chest and arms! I thought he realised!"

"He's d—he's drugged! Warn him next time."

I wanted to tell them to stop yelling, to ask why on earth they sounded so scared, because she'd just startled me, that was all, and I couldn't exactly see her to know what she was doing—but then warmth spread out from the pinching in my wrist and I sank back into the bed. The pain faded, the voices becoming distorted and then going away altogether.

He was running, fast as he could, faster—if he fell it was over because he didn't have the strength to stand again, not before they found him. But then he rounded a corner and they were right there, black shadows, red, all reaching for him.

He lashed out but his blows sank right through them. He tried to turn back, to pull away, but their snatching fingers wrapped around him so he couldn't move and they burned—

"Nnghah—!"

My chest burned with the sudden influx of air as I cried out, and I couldn't help coughing. That only made the burn worse, until I couldn't do anything but try and curl up, struggling not to cough and failing.

I felt hands on me and flinched, my arm jerking out to slap them away because they'd burn—

Except they didn't, they were cool, and for a moment I had no idea where I was or what was happening. They pushed me over, onto my back again, and I struggled weakly, pushing back against them.

No, that hurts—

I tried to take a breath and coughed again, and that hurt more. Then suddenly there was something over my mouth and nose; I felt air on my face and managed a shallow breath. A moment later I managed another, and another, the pain fading to a dull, tolerable ache.

My heart still pounded but I was dimly aware of a voice, now, Doctor Kitano's voice, low and soothing and speaking nonsense.

"There now, Wataru," he was saying. "Don't struggle, just breathe softly. That's it. Don't panic."

"Like to see you not panic," I wanted to say, but I just took another shaky breath instead, a little raspy in the mask. I did put my hand out, searching for his arm or hand—anything—and it was put into my grasp a moment later. I squeezed to let him know I could hear him.

"Good now. Another nightmare, was it?"

No shit. It wasn't the first. Wasn't even the second time. Already I'd lost count. Four? Five? A hundred?

I nodded a little, more an incline, really, but I couldn't do much else with them pushing that mask on my face. A moment later it was gone and I took a breath of actual air, but not too deeply this time.

"Do you remember what you dreamed, Wataru?"

Only fragments—enough to make a chill run through my body.

"Sh—shadows—black shadows—holding me down …"

A slight indrawn breath, but I couldn't tell which side it came from. "Alright. It's alright, Wataru. Have some water."

A straw prodded my lips and I sucked at it. Once again they pulled it away too soon, but at least I'd managed to drink nearly my fill this time.

"Here."

I heard a rattle, tilted my head in its direction, and someone lifted my hand, guiding my fingers around a small paper tub and a pile of round and oval-shaped objects inside.

"They're pills, Wataru. Medication, of a different sort to what's in the IV. We're going to start you on this tonight, alright? There's two tubs of them."

More medication? What was wrong with the drugs in the IV?

"What—what are they for—"

"It's alright, Wataru. It just means we'll be able to take you off the IV sooner."

Oh. That pulling in my wrist did get kind of annoying. I nodded weakly, even though I knew it wasn't as though I had a choice in the matter. And it was hard to drink without a straw, but that was only because I couldn't lift myself high enough to drink without one. What were they going to do about that?

"We're going to sit you up now. I've put a sedative in the second lot, so you'll be able to sleep again, alright? Here we go."

There was a squeak and I felt the bed rising, the top half of it at least; a hand cupped the back of my neck to lift my head up. Okay, that worked.

"Open up, Wataru. And then drink, quickly now."

The feel of those pills in my mouth made me want to spit them out again—except I couldn't, because someone was already putting the cup of water to my lips and I couldn't do anything but drink. I almost choked on the pills, but someone rubbed my throat lightly and they went down.

"That's good work, Wataru. Now the other."

At least, I thought dimly, I'll be able to sleep after this.

My heart was pounding. My heart was pounding and I didn't know why, I couldn't remember why, except that I'd dreamed something … horrible.

"S—Sir?"

I flinched and then caught my breath, turning my head in the direction of the man's nervous voice. One of the nurses—I was beginning to recognise the voices of the two nurses who tended me the most, now, even though I couldn't remember if anyone had said their names near me.

I wished they wouldn't sneak up on me like that, though.

"Uh … s—sorry, Sir …"

Oh. Had I said that out loud? I hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"I'll—get Doctor Kitano for you. Sir."

I heard footsteps hurrying away, and then I was left in the silence of the ward. Which wasn't very silent, I had learned, because I could still hear the hum of technology somewhere nearby—a computer maybe—and I could hear distant sounds like voices. It was calming, actually. Different to the energy of the dream I couldn't remember. I hadn't been able to remember them for a while. The last that I could had been about black shadows—but that was all.

Footsteps. "Still awake, Wataru?"

"Mmhm." I turned my head in Kitano's direction, still breathing slowly, relaxing after the adrenaline rush. I felt the weight of hands, the doctor's customary check-up after that last scare. I'd pulled some stitches, that time; I hadn't even noticed through the pain in my chest.

"Another dream? Do you remember this one?" Talking. They'd first started using it during my sponge baths. It didn't work, but I let them pretend. Then again, my dreams seemed to be something they were always interested in.

"Why d'you always ask that?"

A pause in the motion of his hands. "Well, sometimes people with amnesia remember things in their dreams."

"Oh." That made sense, I guess. I just wished they weren't nightmares; I couldn't even be sure if they were real if they were always nightmares. I shook my head, but slowly.

"I see. Well, I have good news."

My heart skipped a beat. "Am I getting the bandages on my eyes off?" Not being able to see was starting to wear on my nerves. It was like the nothingness of my unremembered nightmares followed me while I was awake too.

Another pause, and then, "No. I'm sorry, Wataru, your eyes still need a bit more time to heal. Sakaki will be returning soon."

Sakaki? Had he gone somewhere?

"Well, yes, Wataru. He had to leave soon after you first woke up, remember?"

Did he? I couldn't—wait. Yes, I did. It was the second time he'd come to visit—he'd sounded sorry he'd had to leave. I hadn't exactly wanted him to either … he was nicer to talk to than Kitano.

"Where—did he go?"

Kitano's voice was as brisk as his hands when he answered. "I don't know, Wataru. He has a lot of business to do, and not all of it is in this facility. Now."

I heard a rattle and the slosh of water, and my bed started to rise.

I jerked awake with a gasp. It made my chest burn, but at least it didn't set me to coughing—not anymore. The ward's air was still and I couldn't hear anything besides the hum of equipment; it was night, then.

For a few minutes I just lay there, letting my pulse slow, wishing my head didn't hurt, that the pain hadn't chased away the fragments of the dream.

Then, footsteps. "Wataru?"

Right on time. They'd started giving me a few minutes to calm down before coming in. Guess they figured I'd hear them if they gave me some time.

"Mmm?"

"Ah. You are awake." The footsteps came nearer, and Kitano's hands came to rest over my chest, light moving touches. "Would you like to tell me what you dreamed about?"

"Same as the other times; I can't remember." Gods, I sounded tired. "I never remember." And bitter. And I was getting annoyed that was always the first thing he asked. I wanted to remember more than anyone, but he wasn't exactly making it easier always jumping on it first chance he got.

Kitano coughed uncomfortably, and I realised that I'd said that out loud. I'd been doing that a lot lately too.

"My apologies, Wataru. Why don't we change the subject?"

"Mkay."

His hands lifted and I heard a tell-tale rattle, and I only just managed to suppress a groan. "I do believe it's time for your medication."

"Already?" My voice rasped a little. Was it really necessary to take the pills so often? They always got stuck in my throat and drinking was uncomfortable with only the bed to lift me up. And I was still on the IV, even though I seemed to remember Kitano saying I could get off it sooner if I took the pills.

"Well, we might be an hour or two off, but it doesn't really make much of a difference, and you're already awake."

His tone had the cadence of someone who'd said it before. Well, he had, really—I'd asked once why I always seemed to wake up at the right time. He'd told me my medication timetable was loose because my sleeping timetable was.

I half heard, half felt him move closer. "I thought I could get off the IV once I started taking the pills." I wasn't whining. I wasn't. "I don't need them both anymore, do I?"

"They're for different things. I can't just take you straight off the IV; it just means you'll get off it sooner, that's all."

I heard water sloshing as it was poured. "What are they both for, then?"

There was a thunk as the jug was set down. "I beg your pardon?"

"The pills. What are they for, if they're different to the IV?"

Kitano's voice was cautious; my gut tightened. "Well, it's complicated and you're not a doctor. I doubt you'd understand."

"Try me." I don't know why I wanted to know so much all of a sudden—I just did. Maybe it was because I'd spent so long in someone else's hands, and I didn't even know how I'd got there. Surely there was something I could know about it all, even if it was just what kind of medicine I was taking.

"You're not exactly at the peak of health, Wataru, I wouldn't want to confuse you or slow down your healing—"

I let out an irritable whoosh of air. "Doctor. Answer me. Now."

… Where had that come from? I barely registered his sharp, indrawn breath; I was too surprised by my own tone of voice. Up until then it had always been slightly gravelly with sleep or uncertainty. I hadn't even known I could produce that kind of tone.

Then again, I didn't know much of anything, and that's what this was supposed to change, right?

"You have a—condition."

If I could have I would have blinked, his voice surprising through my marvelling. Then he paused, the way he did when he was searching for the right words (when he wanted to hide something), and my gut clenched again.

"What kind of condition?" Not so strong now, was I? More like uncertain and cautious. Did I still even want to know?

… Yes, I decided after a beat. I had the right to know.

"A … psychological condition."

For a few moments there didn't seem to be any sound but my heartbeat. A … what? A psychological condition? What the hell does that mean?

I swallowed hard. "What—kind of—"

"Sir. Wataru." Firmly. "It's my considered opinion that it will do your recovery no good to discuss this at this point in time—"

The bitter laugh that came from my lips surprised me. "You're going to drop a bombshell like that and then not even explain it—"

"In my defence, you pressed the issue."

A psychological condition.

"You were keeping something from me!"

Ow. Ow, that hurt, that pulled at my stitches, and dammit I didn't want his hands on me, even to keep me down on the bed—

"Someone's woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

That voice, that cheerful, familiar voice—Sakaki—I hadn't even realised he was back—

"You would have woken up on the wrong side of the bed too," I said through gritted teeth, "if you had just been told you were nuts."

My voice had risen, but the words and their anger seemed to steal all my energy, and for a few moments I could only lay there, pressing a hand to my bandaged ribs. There was a pause. That seemed to happen a lot around me, actually.

Then Sakaki chuckled and I drew in a breath, my heart pounding with anger as I glared in as near to Sakaki's direction as I could guess.

"Well. It seems someone has gained energy since my last visit also." Then he sighed, and with a pang I realised the chuckle was probably just a reaction, just surprise. "My deepest apologies, Wataru. I can see this troubles you."

At least it sounded like he was going to tell me something.

"And yes, it was partly my decision to keep such knowledge from you, at least until you were stronger. I was afraid of what it might do to you to know."

He sounded sincere. Sincere and grim, and my heart-rate slowed, my stomach twisting with fear instead. "What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid you have a reason to be worried," he said gently, and I heard him come forward. "You are sometimes somewhat … unstable, you see. You were out of control, completely irrational, and such a man as you are … rather dangerous."

… Wait, what? He was—he was agreeing with me? I barely remembered what a psychological condition was, let alone whether it meant I was nuts or not!

"I am … I was …?"

"I'm afraid so, yes. We had to take rather extreme measures to defend ourselves and subdue you. That was how you were injured."

That was how you were injured.

Because I was attacking people.

Because I was hurting people.

If he kept speaking, I couldn't hear him; the blood rushed in my ears and my throat closed, my chest tightening, burning with the pain that said I was breathing too quickly.

"Wataru? Come now, Wataru, calm." Someone squeezed my arm and my fingers jerked up, finding a hand that I clutched with all my might. Slowly my breathing eased and I became dimly aware that someone else's hands were on my shoulders.

"There now; you should have let me finish," Sakaki scolded. "I was going to say that your recovery thus far has been most encouraging; likely the new medication. If it continues to work as well as it is I imagine you'll be able to return to your duties without much trouble."

His words, at first, were encouraging, and I began to relax—until I realised exactly what it was he'd said. "What do you mean—the new medication?" My voice rose again, and there was a slight pause.

"Oh dear; I'd hoped you wouldn't notice that little slip."

No. No, this couldn't be happening. It just—it couldn't. First I was an amnesiac, now this?

"This … this isn't the first time this has happened?"

Fuck, how crazy was I? Incurably insane? Maybe I was insane enough that all this was just a dream and I was in a padded cell somewhere giggling my brains out. I fought the urge to giggle right here and now; there was no point in making them think I was any crazier than I apparently already was.

"I'm afraid not, Wataru, though it was certainly one of your more … damaging phases."

Why did he have to say it like that? Like I was some monster who'd go off the deep end at any moment until they figured out how to pull me back or hurt me enough to—to what? Put me in the hospital wing?

He said it like that because it's true, isn't it? Fuck.

Someone patted my hand, bumping a plastic cup against it. "Time for your meds, Wataru."

Dazedly I obeyed.

Blackness everywhere, except where there was fire and the crackle of electricity, and the screams and shouts of people. There were shadows, black shadows, and they were surrounding him, trying to hurt him—

No, he was hurting them: he snapped his fingers and three of them burst into flame with screams, and with his other hand he brandished a gun. His voice echoed, but he couldn't tell if he was talking or laughing.

One of the shadows rushed at him, but he shot it. It fell and came to rest at his feet, its face turned towards him, except that it didn't have one.

None of them had one.

Neither did he.

I shot upright in bed, my heart beating wildly in my chest and ribs and head, my breaths so deep and ragged that pain stabbed into my chest, not quite bad enough to make me cough. My trembling hands clawed at first at my sheets, then pressed to my face. My whole body was shaking, but I felt like the consistency of rubber.

The fabric of the bandages across my eyes felt rough against my fingers, and all at once I couldn't stand it; I was awake but I was still in blackness, and I couldn't hear anyone around but I was certain that if I waited long enough someone would come, someone I couldn't see—

Oh gods.

My fingers clawed the bandages, my breath coming fast as I fumbled to push it up, to get rid of it, its tightness moving up over my forehead until I could open my eyes …

And slam them shut again with a hissing whimper, pressing my face into my hands to stop hide the stabbing light. For a few moments I just sat, breathing raggedly; then I blinked, slowly opening my eyes to peer blurrily through my fingers at the blanket below.

Everything was grey. Not, I realised after a moment, because there was something wrong with my eyes, but because it was dark. What had seemed so bright a moment before probably wasn't anywhere near daylight level—the only reason it'd seemed so was because of the light coming through from another room and the fact that I hadn't given my eyes time to adjust to not being in total darkness.

Slowly I lifted my head, looking around. There was a light on in the room adjoining mine, but there were only two doors leading out anyway. My room was small, with only one bed, the medical equipment and a nightstand.

I scrubbed my face and then shivered in the relative cool of the room. I didn't feel faceless, and there was no longer only darkness, but …

Have to know.

I'd already swung my legs over the edge before I'd really considered whether I could or should get out of bed. The tiled floor was cold under my feet and made me shiver again, but I set my eyes on the darkened doorway I was certain was the bathroom, gripping the IV stand and using it to pull myself to my feet. My legs shook slightly and my ribs groaned, and I was surprised by the pull of stitches at my side and partly on my back.

Just how many parts of me are injured?

Had to find out. Grimly I moved toward the bathroom, step by step, using my stand as a crutch. It hadn't looked so far a distance from the bed, but walking it seemed to take forever; by the time I stumbled through the door I was breathing hard and my legs felt like rubber, the air felt even colder against my sweaty skin.

The lights came on automatically, soft lights that nevertheless made me flinch and blink rapidly. I didn't dare pause in the doorway in case I wound up hitting the floor, but the sink wasn't far in and I caught myself on it, my limbs shaky from the exertion. Now that I was there I almost didn't want to see anything, but after a moment I looked up into the mirror.

I wasn't faceless—that was the first thing I saw—and it filled me with absurd, ballooning relief that let the tension in my stomach loosen. The second was that I looked younger than I was expecting, younger than I felt; my face was smooth and relatively unlined save by overnight stubble and bitter exhaustion. Maybe a few years over twenty?

The weariness filtered through next, and although it shouldn't have been surprising, the dullness of my grey eyes still shocked me. I looked even more ruffled because of my hair, red and sticking up every which way save the few long shaggy strands framing my face. When I reached up to pull off the bandage completely I saw that feature was apparently normal, since it refused to flatten properly afterward.

I let the bandage drop without looking away. I was probably tanned, usually, but at the moment I was pale, with dark rings around my slightly bloodshot eyes. Gingerly I touched my cheek, feeling the stubble beneath my fingers, taking relief from the fact that the image in the mirror and the reality did actually match.

My fingers travelled from my cheek to my chest, pressing once, firmly, against the bandages I could feel under the pyjama shirt. Then I let out a shaky breath and, without stopping to think, unbuttoned the shirt and shoved it back over my shoulders. I shivered again in the cool night air, but ignored it in favour of pressing my hand to the bandages again, feeling out the lines of stitches curling around my left side, high on my ribs. Even with the bandages I could see I wasn't an idle worker—I was thin but broad-shouldered and well-built, and my muscles were too well defined for someone who sat at a desk.

And then there were the scars. Most of them looked to be the kind that would fade with time, but there were a few that stood out. One thin, deep-looking one near my hip, some jagged flesh near my elbow where it looked like I'd been bitten a long time ago, the white sinewy knots on my right collarbone. They looked like they'd been painful.

I grimaced. As painful as what you've got now? More scars to add to the arsenal. How had I gotten the others?

There came a strangled noise from inside my room and I twitched and turned, fingers massaging the scar on my shoulder. A moment later a man appeared in the doorway, tall and black-haired and with a face taut with fear. When he saw me the tension seemed to flow out of him and he reached for the jamb, pressing a shaking hand to his face as his lips moved silently in—what? Supplication? Prayer?

When he looked at me his expression was calmer, but his eyes skittered over my face as if to avoid looking directly at me. He cleared his throat.

"S—Sir, you shouldn't be in—"

His roaming eyes caught on the bandage on the floor and his gaze snapped up to take in my face properly, and he froze, making the same strangled sound as before. "You—you—what have you done?"

I blinked slowly, my hand unconsciously coming up to touch my eyes. Oh. Right. I wasn't supposed to take the bandage off.

He rushed forward, reaching for my arm, but the sudden motion made me flinch and he froze again. I watched his throat work for a moment, fascinated by the fact I could see the movement, a frightened movement, before he managed to say, "You need to return to bed, Sir."

… Oh. Right. Sleeping.

I tore my eyes from his throat to study his face. I knew this man—knew his voice, at least, as one of my nurses—but now I knew what he looked like too. Hesitantly he dragged the shirt back up over my shoulders and took my arm, not quite looking me in the eyes, but my exertion was beginning to catch up with me and I didn't mind leaning on him. It wasn't until then that I even realised I was trembling slightly.

Maybe that's why, at first, I didn't notice that his hands trembled too.

"That was a foolish thing to do, Wataru."

I nodded, staring down at my entwined fingers. Part of it was because I didn't want to look up at Sakaki; part of it was because I was revelling in being able to see my hands. "I know."

It wasn't a lie. I did know. Taking the bandage off early could have damaged my eyesight permanently; even now they were still light-sensitive and my room was kept dim. I just … couldn't bring myself to care. I'd been terrified, and even if I could have stopped myself I think I'd have felt it was worth the risk anyway.

I could see. I could get away from the faceless darkness.

I didn't try to explain this to Kitano or Sakaki. It was bad enough that they'd already seen me so weak—so insane. I couldn't bear to think what they'd think if I tried to explain something so irrational. Kitano would pretend not to scoff and Sakaki …

Sakaki knew me. He'd been angry when I'd been injured and he'd been taking the time out to visit. He hadn't told me about my—my condition, but that was only because he hadn't wanted to worry me. I couldn't make him worry even more.

It made me wonder, though. He was investing so much personal time … surely it wasn't usual to do this for the average agent under his command?

Sakaki raised an eyebrow as he handed me a tub of pills and a plastic cup of water, and I suddenly realised I'd been staring. "Is there a question that needed asking, Wataru?"

"What are you to me?" The question was out before I'd intended it. "I used to have a position of authority, didn't I?" That made sense. I wasn't sure how high up on the scale of things Kitano was, but he seemed fairly high up, which gave credence to the idea. Yet, would Sakaki really give so much time to even a highly-placed agent?

"You still do, I imagine," he said, and tapped my tub of pills. Obediently I lifted both cup and tablets, taking mouthfuls of one and then the other. "And yes, you did have rather a high position among us. As for what I am to you … well, you did call me 'uncle' through your childhood, you know."

I nearly choked on the water, distantly hearing Sakaki's light chuckle. "Not a blood relation, no," he said. "I was merely a friend of your father's."

"Oh," I croaked, and coughed, massaging my throat and throwing him a baleful glare. He did that on purpose.

Sakaki only chuckled again and handed me another tub of pills. I took them, comforting myself with the fact that I'd only have to take one tub once I was released from the medical wing. "What am I supposed to call you, then?" I asked, and with a stab of vindictive mischief added, "'Uncle'?"

"Oh, dear me!" Sakaki laughed outright, both looking and sounding so amused that I decided to just ignore him and swallow my pills. "No, I think that would terrify half my agents. At this juncture, I suppose I'm more of a mentor than anything else. 'Sakaki' will suit just fine for my protégé, I think."

His what? My heart leaped to my throat and I took a slow breath, lowering the cup of water I'd just raised to tongue the pills into my cheek so I could answer. "Protégé?"

"I'm not so old, Wataru, but neither am I young," he said, the amusement on his face fading into gentle resignation. "And this job of ours is dangerous. I need someone I trust to take over should something untoward occur."

… Oh. Oh wow.

My stomach fluttered with pride; I had to take a breath, drinking my water, to give myself a moment and counter it with a hefty dose of reality. Bitterly I sneered into my empty cup. "I bet they'd all just love a crazy man leading them."

"Now, Wataru." I jumped as Sakaki took my chin, forcing my head up so I could meet his sombre eyes. "You've had problems, yes, but with this medication you're as safe as any one of us here." He released me to pat my arm, sitting back with a reassuring smile. I tried to muster one in response, but it was wan and it didn't clear my mind any.

"Then why am I still here? In a secluded room, away from the main ward?" I haven't even realised how far I was until I could see out the door and into the long passageway beyond it.

"Ah." Sakaki's lips twisted wryly. "You're safe now, Wataru. But you weren't always. I have to say, however, that your recovery thus far is remarkable."

"But you haven't moved me." I winced inwardly at the wavering, uncertain note in my tone, but ploughed on. "It's because they're still in the main ward, isn't it? The agents who tried to stop me. The ones I hurt."

My voice was bitter again; I didn't try to stop it. The thought had occurred soon after I'd realised my room wasn't merely attached to the main ward—it was deliberately separate from it. That I was secluded because I was dangerous, and they hadn't known if the medicine would work. That there might be people in there that wouldn't want to see me. That might be afraid of seeing me. Saying it out loud now made my throat close.

Sakaki smiled grimly. "You always have been too smart for your own good, my boy. Did it occur to you that it was as much for your sake as theirs? It isn't easy being in a spotlight."

I swallowed hard. There was another question I wanted to ask. That I needed to ask. Except that my throat didn't want to open up enough to ask it.

Finally I croaked, "Did I kill anyone?"

His silence made my gut clench tighter and tighter until finally he sighed. "Four. I will not lie to you, Wataru."

Oh, is that all? I had to think it, because my throat had closed again and I couldn't say it. I leaned forward to rest my head on my knee, shutting my eyes against the burn in them and swallowing hard several times. After a few moments a hand patted my back.

"I'll leave you to think."

I heard him rise with a scrape of the chair on tiles and his footsteps moving toward the door before I was finally able to say anything. "Uncle Sakaki?"

The footsteps stopped. "Yes?"

"Thank you for telling me," I said in a small voice. "The truth, I mean."

There was a smile in his voice when he answered. "Why, you're welcome, Wataru."