Chapter Two

now I know that I'm not

all that you've got

I guess that I, I just thought

maybe we could find new ways to fall apart

"So where are we again?" Sakura asked, draping herself over a sound board and letting out a gusty sigh.

"Uh . . . Shit," Fuuma answered distractedly, trying to untangle a snarl of wires. "Kurogane, where the hell are we?" he shouted.

"Boston, dumbass."

"Right," Sakura mumbled, closing her eyes like she meant to take a nap right where she stood. "Do we get a night off soon?"

"Two days off, starting tomorrow," Kurogane said as he came over and nudged her off his equipment. "You all right?"

"We haven't had a break since St. Louis," she sighed. "What's it been, two weeks?"

"Something like that."

He was looking at her fondly and his arm half-reached toward her, but it was an aborted move and he went back to messing with the buttons on his sound board. Sakura sidled up to him and carefully snuggled her way under his arm.

"Hey," she said softly. "You think you're not allowed to give me a hug, or what?"

"I didn't . . ."

"When did I say you're allowed to stop being my family, huh?" she added, pinching his side through his tshirt.

Kurogane started to pull himself away from her, but she wrapped both arms around him and clung. "You— shit, Sakura. You know I— Syaoran was the only thing that—"

"Bullshit," she said firmly, not giving him an inch. "You're my honorary big brother forever whether you like it or not, so suck it up and gimme a real hug."

He stopped fighting her off and just hugged her as ordered. "Only because girls are scary when they're angry," he sighed.

"Thank you." She finally let him go, but only so she could help sort out the snarl of wires She wasn't leaving him alone just yet. "So how are you? I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever. Things have been hectic."

Kurogane just grimaced. "Same old, I guess. Why?"

"Because for aforementioned reasons, I care? Hey, did you like that book I gave you?"

"The one from your lit class? Yeah, it wasn't bad. You got anything new for me?"

"Not lately. My summer classes suck."

Kurogane snorted. "You say that every semester. You don't even like school."

"Yeah, but Touya's right, I need to finish. I have to set an example for all these other uneducated idiots, right?" she joked. She didn't judge any of them for not finishing school, but she was willing to listen to her older brother's advice and keep going for herself. As far as she knew, Touya was the only one among them who'd acheived a college degree. Kamui and Subaru had never even finished high school. "I at least want to get the associate's, just so I have a jumping-off point if I need it later. I don't even know what I'd focus on if I went for my bachelor's degree, I just . . . All I've ever wanted to do, I'm already doing, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," Kurogane said quietly, and reached out a hand to ruffle her hair. "Ugh, how much gel do you put in this?"

Sakura just grinned.

"Not that I don't like this, because you look good, but how come you chopped it? Your old hair was pretty."

She restrained herself from further teasing him—that was one of the most big-brother things he could have possibly said but pointing it out would just make him standoffish again. She tried to think of a good answer, because cutting off her hair had been rather spur-of-the-moment but she really liked how it had turned out. "Just felt like doing something new, I guess," she sighed, staring up at the stage where a team of people was starting to get things set up. It wasn't their people, it was a couple of the arena's employees and the members of the opening act. "Hey, Kurogane?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever want to get up there and play with us . . . That would be cool. Just, you know, one night for fun or something."

"No," he said firmly. "But, um, thanks."

Yeah. She'd already known what his answer would be, but she'd just wanted him to hear her say it. "Kurogane?"

"Seriously, Sakura, don't."

"Will you make sure Ellen is in charge of bringing out my drum set? She's the only one that takes good care of it. And I like checking out her ass when she's not looking."

Kurogane looked startled for a minute, then he started laughing. Good. He didn't do that enough. "You really are something else, kiddo. I didn't even know you—well, anyway. Yeah, I'll make sure it's Ellen."

"You're the best," Sakura said with a wink, and sauntered away. She hadn't thought it would be such a huge priority, after the accident, but for some reason she could not rest until she had re-mastered sauntering. It was hard to do with the way her legs were, but the sassy last word in a conversation was just a necessary part of a girl's repertoire.

(five years and two months ago)

The phone was ringing. Kurogane had his head buried under a pillow to escape the sunlight that was insisting he should arise for the day, and he groaned when the telephone jumped in with its opinion.

He didn't get a lot of phone calls, anymore. He hadn't been answering them for three months and nearly everyone had stopped trying. There was one person who still left a voicemail sometimes, and Kurogane buried himself yet further under his pillow when that voice started sounding from the answering machine over on the kitchen ledge. He'd fallen asleep on the couch while watching t.v. again, it seemed.

"Hey. Um. Hey, man, it's Touya. Listen. I know that things are . . . I know you've been . . . Listen, I've been trying to leave you alone. But it's about Sakura. The therapy clinic is releasing her to go home tomorrow, and we were thinking that we'd have a welcome-home party."

Kurogane felt his pulse pounding dully in his head. Shut up shut up shut up shut up

"Nothing big, just a little get-together, some of the people who care about her, you know, just to say we're glad she's coming home. I . . . I know it would be hard for you, but I know you love Sakura and it would mean a lot to her."

He only had twenty more seconds before the machine cut him off. Twenty seconds, tops, and then Kurogane could jump up and delete the message and never have to think about this again. But his head pounded and his mouth was dry and he wanted to puke. Twenty seconds was a long time. His heart, which had been through enough the past few months and which he'd thought had totally died by now, just given up and crapped out on him, throbbed dully at hearing his best friend's voice.

Shut up shut up shut up all of you just shut up

"Listen, man, I won't bring up the band or anything, I promise, it's just, we miss you and—"

Kurogane was across the room and snatching up the phone in a flash, not thinking about how much he missed this voice, how much he missed everything because more than all of that he missed Syaoran—

"Shut up, shut up for the love of God Touya just stop it," he blurted into the phone, wiping away a clammy layer of sweat on his forehead. "I can't— just stop talking, I can't deal with it."

"Kurogane." Touya's voice was fuzzy through the line, but he could hear the wonderment and shock. "H-hey. It's good to hear your voice."

"Don't, okay? Just don't. Just hang up and go away. I am fifty-seven days sober and I am not starting back at zero again, so just leave me alone before I . . ."

"Fifty seven days, huh?" Touya said softly. "That's . . . that's really great news. I'm happy for you."

"Oh fuck you, you aren't happy at all."

"Kurogane? Don't. Don't you fucking dare question me. I am fucking happy for you, okay? I mean, I didn't know where you were, if you were . . . I haven't heard from you in three months, you know. I didn't know what was going on. I'm happy enough that you picked up the phone. Thank you," he finished on a snarl.

Kurogane let out a weak, rusty chuckle. "You're welcome, you sorry bastard."

There was a long, deep silence.

"How are you, Kurogane? Really?"

"Uh . . . I don't know," he admitted. His attention was caught by his own arms. The dragon and the phoenix had been outlined months ago but only a third of the colouring was done. He'd made and broken two appointments with his artist for another session. He barely left his apartment unless he needed food. He didn't think he'd done laundry since he'd stopped sweating through his clothes a couple of weeks into sobriety and it stopped seeming necessary. He took a whiff of his shirt and grimaced. "Not that great?"

"Yeah. Can we do anything?"

"No," he said forcefully.

"Do you at least want to come by for dinner or something?"

"No. I'm not coming tomorrow, I don't want help, I don't want to see you guys. Leave me alone, seriously, man. I can't. Just stop trying."

"No," Touya said plainly. "I get that you don't want to see us right now, okay? But no, I'm not going to stop trying. We've been friends since we were fifteen, dude, I've seen enough of your ugly side to know whether or not I want to walk away. And I don't. Got it?"

Kurogane slid down to sit on the floor and put his head between his knees. "Yeah, I got it," he choked.

"I'm not going to bother you about coming over anymore. But you know the door is open if you ever show up. That's from me, Yuki, and it's from Sakura. She keeps asking about you. She misses you."

"Yeah, well, I never thought she was all that sane and rational."

Touya chuckled. "She's a loud-mouthed brat is what she is. I'll try to keep her from bothering you. For a while."

"Hey. Is she— how is she?"

Touya gave that a moment of silence, maybe to acknowledge what it cost him to ask or maybe just to find a way to phrase it that was different from the pat answer he gave to everyone who asked.

"She's all right. She's still hurting, her legs are still pretty messed up, and she, uh, she cries a lot, cries herself to sleep most nights, but . . . She's tough, you know? She's trying. She's glad to be coming home."

"Yeah," Kurogane said, and then couldn't say anything else. "Hey, I gotta get going soon, I have—" he looked at his outstretched arm again. "I have an appointment."

"Hey. Take care of yourself, since you won't let us do it. Fifty seven days and counting, right? And just . . . Keep in touch. Please. You don't have to see us. But just let us know what's going on once in a while, okay?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Okay."

It took him half an hour and a cup of coffee before he mustered up the strength to pick up the phone again. He called his tattoo artist.

"Yo, Jenny, it's Kurogane. I'm good. Yeah, you? Swell. Listen, I want to make an appointment. I swear I'm going to keep it this time. No, I actually promise. I haven't been . . . But I'm doing better. So. No, actually, not this time. Well, yeah, of course I want to get them finished. I just want something else first. It's gonna be small. Just. Yeah. Thursday? Great. Thanks."

He got up on Thursday, late in the morning, and threw on his freshly laundered clothes, thinking to himself fuck yeah I did laundry and I'm leaving the house in the same week and sixty days and counting and miss you Syaoran miss you so much I can't even fucking breathe and I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

Fai and Sakura were going over the set list for the show one last time while the roadies were scurrying around, getting things set up in earnest. The show was starting in less than an hour, with some local skapunk band opening up for them. Trumpets were blaring somewhere behind the stage, warming up. Fai's attention was caught by a gleam of sweaty skin, and he looked over.

It was an outdoor venue, and in Boston's muggy late summer it was sweltering. Kurogane had taken his shirt off while hauling equipment around. He wasn't the only guy to have done so, but he was the only guy who looked that damn good in nothing but blue jeans and a pair of work boots. Sweat was running down the back of his neck and dripping over the gigantic tattoo that covered most of his back, a Japanese demon-mask head, red-lacquered and grinning ferociously. His arms had originally been done with half-sleeves that stopped at the elbow, but new things were being added all the time and flames had started licking up one arm while waves and water spirits were cresting up toward the other shoulder.

He had an ornate-looking scroll with two swords crossed behind it, surrounded by falling sakura blossoms on his ribcage, low on his right side. But the front of his torso was nearly bare. (All the better for staring at the cut of his abs, God Almighty.) But only nearly.

On his left breast, over his heart, there was something so simple and so different from the colorful intricate designs on the rest of his body that it screamed for attention. Just some words. Syaoran it said in larger letters above, and below, slightly smaller, April 1st 1991 - March 28th 2007. There was a funny little paw print beside the name, like a small dog had stepped in ink and walked on his chest.

Fai was so very, very glad that he'd been a fan of The Long Goodbye and had known about the circumstances of their breakup before he met Kurogane. Otherwise he would have opened his big fat fucking mouth and joked about old Kurogane's dog had been and how much he must have loved it.

He still didn't really know the significance of the paw print. But he did know that Kurogane's younger brother had died three days before his sixteenth birthday.

That was what had caused Kurogane to quit the band he'd fronted just when they were starting to make it. There had been rumours that he was an alcoholic at the ripe old age of twenty two, and then suddenly he was joining AA and getting sober and going to school to become an electrician of all the mundane things to be. The next part, Fai hadn't learned from the media or from being told, the next part he'd learned for himself through some quiet and skilled observation

For some reason, despite the fact that Kurogane hadn't been there, he seemed to think that car accident that had killed his brother and nearly taken Sakura had been his fault.

Somehow, managing their road crew instead of getting up onstage with them was Kurogane's penance. Fai had no right to pry into that. But God, he wanted to sometimes. He knew what Kurogane could do with a guitar, had been to one of their concerts and heard him sing—a fact he'd kept to himself. He'd love to hear it again. It did things to him.

A band only needed one lead singer. Only needed one front man.

Fai had no doubts about who would front the Paper Cranes if Kurogane ever found a way to forgive himself for Syaoran's death. So he kept his mouth shut.

"You know, there's really only one way you could be more obvious," Subaru said, right in his ear. Sakura was ogling a woman from the road crew and hadn't noticed where Fai's attention was, and Fai jumped at the way Subaru had snuck up on him. "Rolling Stone hasn't published the new issue yet. There's still time to call Robert back and make that announcement."

"Oh, screw you," Fai muttered, embarrassed at being caught without being too worried. He was safe with Subaru. And now that Sakura was looking at him with her eyebrows raised, he suddenly had the thought that despite Kurogane being practically a member of her family, she probably wouldn't mind his staring and probably wouldn't rat him out.

"I just missed something," she sighed, when Fai didn't respond to her questioning look. "Damn."

She probably wouldn't be bothered by it, but that didn't mean he was just going to blurt out that Kurogane's ass in those jeans was a work of art. There was a difference between being caught and volunteering the information.

Fuuma dropped something and Kurogane snapped at him. Fuuma snapped right back, and they got in each other's faces for a minute before heading off in opposite directions in a huff. That was odd, the two of them never seemed to fight in a serious way.

"Is it just me, or are you guys feeling really tired and cranky, too?" Subaru sighed, rubbing his eyes.

Fai looked back and forth between Sakura and Subaru with some alarm. "Guys, we have a show about to start. I am ordering you to have an energy drink chug contest. Go find a pack of Red Bull or whatever you've got to do."

"I'm good," Sakura said, and she smiled wryly. "I just drank a couple of Monsters. I'm just worn out, wishing the end of the tour would come faster."

"Three more weeks, you guys. We're almost there."

"I miss home. And I need to meet up with the advisor at school to talk about graduation."

"I miss home, too," Subaru said softly, playing with the sweat band on his wrist. "There's something I've been thinking about doing when we get back."

Subaru looked really simple tonight, Fai noticed. Instead of his tendency toward layers of matching clothes and accessories, he was dressed in nothing but a tight AC/DC tshirt and a pair of jeans, although he'd kept his trademark fedora. Fai was keeping it casual, too, in slim black pants and a henley with the neck unbuttoned. To make sure he wasn't too boring, he was wearing a pair of Chuck Taylors that were blindingly turquoise and folded over at the top to reveal a layer of white and blue underneath. It was too hot and disgusting for anything more elaborate. Sakura looked the most stage-ready, wearing a tank top that she'd slashed into ribbons in the front to show a second top beneath, and tight distressed denim bottoms, a studded belt and a studded cuff around her upper arm. She never wore necklaces, claiming they got caught on the piercing on her neck, but Fai suspected it was just so people weren't distracted from the cherry blossoms crawling over her shoulder.

"Assuming we still have a home, that is," Subaru added wryly, smiling with one corner of his mouth. "I think our lease expired four months ago."

Fai punched his arm. "Don't be stupid," he chided. "You know the only reason you have a lease is because Kamui has trust issues."

"Hah. Yeah. So long as the rent gets paid, I guess you trust us, right?"

Fai scowled, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders and bonked their heads together affectionately, nearly knocking Subaru's hat off. "Idiot. You know it's your home, no matter what. I've always paid the mortgage somehow."

Subaru ducked his head shyly. "Yeah. Thanks."

Sakura was shaking her head. "Do you know how hard it is to believe that you are responsible enough to own a home?" she said to Fai. "I mean, I know you have a house and those two rent from you, but you just do not seem like the home owning type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, planting his hands on his hips. Then a pang of missing her went through him and he stopped playing around. "It was my mom's," he said simply, dropping his arms. "Come on, we need to finish getting ready." He started walking, then stopped suddenly, and stared down at Sakura's feet. "You are also wearing Chucks."

"Yes?" she said, looking down at her shoes with him.

"But yours have Batman on them."

"Yes, I know."

"I need to know where you found shoes with the fucking Batman."

"At the store, Fai. The shoe store."

"Do they make Captain America shoes? Please tell me they make Captain America shoes."

"Uh, I don't think so, but I could make you Captain America shoes. I could just sew patches with his shield design onto your white ones."

"Have I mentioned today that you are my favourite?"

Subaru herded them backstage to join the others, patiently ignoring them for the most part, or at least he was trying to until Fai turned to him and interrupted Sakura to say,

"Hey, didn't you say you had something to do when we get back to Chicago?"

"Oh, yeah. It's nothing."

"Tell me."

Sakura nodded to them and slipped away to talk to the other guys, giving them a moment.

"I think . . . I think I want to go back to school," Subaru said, flushing red. "Kamui and I were talking about it, we both want to get our GED, but I was thinking about going to college. I was going to ask Sakura about how to sign up for classes. You know, I just . . . She and I are the same age, and she almost has a degree. I . . ."

"You're not stupid, and nobody thinks that," Fai said, giving him another arm-around-the-shoulders hug. "But if you want to do that, I think it's great. Let me know if I can help, yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Anytime. You know you're my favourite."

"I thought Sakura was your favourite."

"Shhh, don't tell her. I really want those shoes."

(three years, one month ago)

The meeting at IHOP didn't accomplish much, since it was three o'clock in the morning and Fai was exhausted. But hey, Touya paid so he wasn't going to complain about free french toast. He just rambled on about himself at their prompting. He had a degree in small business management, but he'd seen how hard it was to run the bar where he worked and he didn't really want to own his own restaurant anymore. He told them that while he didn't play professionally and never had, he considered himself a fairly skilled musician.

(He didn't like talking about Mom, it still hurt too much. Just let them think he'd taken music classes.)

That was about as far as they got, but they seemed to like him. They said they wanted to hear more about his musical skills, which was how Fai ended up inviting them over to his house the next time he worked a day shift and had a night free. He had never really considered doing anything with what he'd been taught about music. He knew he had a gift, but he hadn't pursued it.

(It hurt. A lot. He'd gotten it from her and sometimes he felt like he should have buried the music with her because it would be so much easier if he didn't have to feel all of this.)

It was a little different when two musicians you looked up to from a band you'd been a fan of started courting you.

So Fai met them at his bar and they followed him home. It was only a couple of miles, and Fai walked to work on occasion, especially if tips were bad that month and he was short on gas money. Thank God he had found roommates to help him cover the mortgage. Five minutes later, and suddenly two of the three members of The Long Goodbye were at Fai's home.

"Home sweet home," Fai said, gesturing them inside.

He could see their eyes taking everything in and wondering about him. The house had been Mom's, so it was surprisingly well put-together for three young bachelors. There was matching furniture and a colour scheme and everything. Music paraphernalia was everywhere, from a shadow-box of sheet music and a cello bow, to photos taken with members of the orchestra. Mom had stencil-painted musical notations in a border around the walls of the living room Fai directed them to.

They could hear the sounds of an acoustic guitar playing the Red Hot Chili Peppers further back in the house. Kamui often warmed up for a show by playing other people's music, saying it was more relaxing than playing his own stuff.

"Well it's killing me/when will I really see/all that I need to look inside . . ."

"That's not Anthony Kiedis," Touya said, lifting an eyebrow.

"Nope, that's Kamui," Fai said. "Sit down. You guys want anything to drink? I've got Coke and water and I think some orange juice, and let's see, some Heineken—"

"No, we're fine. Why don't you sit down? You're the one who's been working all day."

"True," Fai laughed, plopping down on the couch.

"Hey oh . . . Listen what I say, oh . . ."

"He's got a great voice," Yukito said in approval.

"That's him playing, too," Fai said. "He and Subaru both play guitar." He'd somehow failed to mention that the two roommates were both musicians as well. They, unlike him, were using it to make money (not counting the increase in tips when he sang karaoke).

"The more I see the less I—"

"Kamui! What are you doing? Our show is in an hour, hurry up and get ready!" called out a distressed voice.

"I am ready!" he hollered back.

"Then don't leave your stuff out after you get ready!"

Fai snickered. "Kamui's not so great about picking up after himself. It drives Subaru nuts."

"Are they, you know . . .?"

Fai snickered all the more. "They're twin brothers."

"Ah."

"Fai is that you?" Subaru called out, coming down the hall and poking his head into the room. "Who are you—oh. Sorry to interrupt."

"No, it's okay. Guys, this is Subaru. Subaru, this is Yukito and Touya."

"Hello," Subaru said softly, shy as always.

Fai couldn't help smirking at the way Yukito and Touya were sizing the kid up. Subaru was dressed in a sleeveless black number that buttoned up to his throat, black leather pants, red and black checkered shoes, about a dozen thin black bracelets on each arm, and a black fedora hat with a red band around it.

"Subaru!" Kamui bellowed, his footsteps sounding in the hallway. "Who are you— oh, hey. Fai, I didn't know you were home."

"These are my friends Yukito and Touya," Fai said mildly, gesturing to them. "Guys, Kamui."

Kamui had on tight, dark gray denim pants, so tight that the boots he wore fit nicely over them, coming up almost to his knees and with several more buckles than was strictly necessary. A belt that was studded with fake bullets was slung low over his hips. He was wearing a black vest, but with no shirt under it, and some kind of choker around his throat. Thick black eyeliner and smoky shadow drew attention to his face, despite his outfit. He was still carrying his guitar in one hand.

"Don't mind the sexy goth costumes, that's just normal for them," Fai said, waving a hand at them.

"You're an idiot," Kamui snorted. "We're playing a show tonight," he informed the other two. "This is what you wear when you're playing for ladies' night at a bar. Sorry for interrupting. See you later, Fai."

After the twins blew out the door, guitars and equipment bundled up in the back of their crappy 1970's hatchback, Touya grinned at him.

"Are they any good? Because this is getting better and better all the time."

Exhausted and irritable and bickering, they loaded themselves up onto their bus, trusting Kurogane and Fuuma to make sure the equipment and roadies got into the other vehicles safely. Touya and Yukito sometimes drove in a separate car to get some privacy, but tonight they were just as cranky and desperate for sleep as everyone else, so they went straight to the sleeping bunks on the second story of the bus and crashed.

Kamui flipped on the t.v. and he and Sakura began arguing about what movie to put on. Subaru looked too dazedly tired to care, stretching out on one of the benches. Fai gave him five minutes before he fell asleep. Someone would have to wake him up later to get him up to the bunks, and Fai wasn't going to volunteer. Subaru could be surprisingly vicious if you woke him up.

Fai had waited till the dressing room cleared out and had snorted a line before getting on the bus with them, meaning that while he was just as tired as the rest of them, he wasn't ready for sleep. He honestly felt wrung out and he knew he needed to get some rest, so he was swigging from a hip flask of vodka to mellow out while he pretended to watch t.v. His foot bobbed in time to the music in his head. He had a lot up there that wouldn't really be purged until he got into the studio and started recording.

"You all right?" Sakura asked, reaching her foot across the aisle to poke his leg with her toes.

Fai smiled at her as best he could. "Yeah, sweetheart. I'm great. Just tired."

"Go to sleep. We'll keep the t.v. volume low."

"Thanks. Not quite ready to sleep, but soon enough."

"Okay," she said, but she was looking at his vodka and frowning. Oh, please, he begged her silently in his head, please do not start. He could not handle that kind of conversation right now. Three more weeks, and they'd be home. Just three weeks and he could try to get a handle on this shit.

Everything was quiet for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the t.v. and the constant whizzing noise of Kamui moving the zipper up and down on his sleeveless hoodie, which he was wearing because in Kamui's world, a sleeveless hoodie constituted clothing.

"Hey, Kamui," Fai said. "Are you going to think about college, too, or is that just Subaru?"

Kamui frowned at Subaru, but since the kid had already dozed off, it didn't do much good. "Dunno yet," he said sullenly. "My first priority is getting this finished, and then I'll think about paying for school," he added, tracing a finger over the half-finished tattoo on his arm.

Fai himself did not have tattoos and didn't really care for any, but he kind of loved being in a rock band and admiring the stuff his bandmates did to themselves. Kamui had a score of sheet music that wrapped around his whole arm in a spiral from his shoulder to his elbow, with the musical notes for his solo in "Heaven and Earth and The Other Place" picked out against the five lines. The basic work was done, but he wanted some of the lines thickened, and he wanted the notes shaded, and a few hints of colour to be added in.

"You should think about it," Fai said slowly, carefully. The vodka was starting to make his tongue feel thick. "You've got so much talent, but getting into some music theory classes would be good for you."

"You mean good for the band."

"No, I don't. I mean for you," Fai said firmly. Kamui was a musican through and through. Anything that expanded his horizons would make him happier just as much as it would make him more talented.

Fai never had any siblings of his own, and he'd never really thought of himself as lonely, never thought of anything as missing. He'd never known he could be so good at bossing around and worrying over a little brother until he suddenly adopted a pair. He was just lucky that they let him do it.

He took one last pull from the flask and realized rather abruptly that exhaustion had fully set in. He barely managed to drag himself up to his bed, head swimming, and fell asleep without even taking his shoes off.

Someone took them off for him, later. He could hear voices around him, but they came like his ears were full of water, the voices muffled and liquid. They were taking his shoes off and putting a blanket over him.

"He seems off," Kamui's voice bubbled through the water.

"I'm worried about him too," Sakura wavered.

In the morning, he told himself he'd just dreamed it. It was easier that way.