Mekura tries, though a bit weakly, to persuade Sanagi to find someone else to have a fling with, literally anyone else, because prolific serial murderer Jason is probably not the best person to get involved with. Sanagi laughs and laughs and laughs, and then she ruffles Mekura's hair like she's a child who said something cute. "You've heard of him, haven't you?" Mekura asks, "You know how many doves he's killed?"

"Probably about as many guys as I've eaten," Sanagi shrugs.

Mekura doesn't dignify that with a response because she's too busy trying to stop herself from recoiling from the fact that Sanagi would even use that as a comparative number, like it's so commonplace that it's viable for something like that.

They're in Mekura's apartment on a Friday night. Sanagi is standing in her bathroom leaning over the sink, squinting at her reflection as she dusts her cheeks with blush and colors her lips a red bright enough to be seen for miles. She'd offered Mekura her lipstick and eyeliner, but the younger of the two had politely declined. Bright makeup, like everything else that made a person stand out, has always been more of Sanagi's thing.

"So what do you and Yakumo have planned for the evening?" Mekura asks from behind Sanagi, seated on the corner of her bathtub. She'd been invited along again, and rather than decline like she'd really like to, she gracefully accepted, because that's what a good friend does.

"You'll see," Sanagi says. The answer is simple and playful, but Mekura hears something ominous hidden in it.

"Can't you just give me a clue?"

Sanagi meets Mekura's eyes in the mirror and smiles. It's vaguely reminiscent of Yakumo's, cold and reptilian. Mekura can't recall if it always looked like that. "Nah," she says, "You'll just have to live a little and find out."

Though disinclined, the expectant look in Sanagi's eyes draws Mekura in like it always does, and she gives a heavy sigh, nodding, though she appreciates Sanagi's smile widening in appreciation.

Yakumo runs with a gang, as it turns out.

He tells them about it on their way downtown, but he never explicitly uses the word gang. "We haven't known each other all that long," he says, "But I made a good first impression. I guess you could say we're friends." He laughs; Mekura thinks she must have missed the joke.

"There are a handful of you, right?" Sanagi asks, "And sometimes you hunt together, don't you?"

"If I have time and I'm in town, I go along. I've been meaning to introduce you."

The conversation seems a bit rehearsed, like he's said all of this before; Mekura suspects they actually have talked about it already and are repeating it for her benefit. Yakumo and Sanagi have been dating for a little over three weeks now, definitely a new record, and Mekura has stopped holding her breath as she waits for the other shoe to drop, for a late night, frantic phone call, or for a news report warning the public that the Nightclub Stalker has struck again. Truthfully, she'd stopped worrying about Sanagi's recklessness and had started worrying about what Yakumo might do.

She sees the way Yakumo and Sanagi walk ahead of her, looking at ease with one another, and thinks she might have been wrong to worry; they make a good pair, and she doesn't dwell on what that means about her friend.

Nothing she didn't already know, really.

They come to an alley where there are a group of men waiting, all wearing suits not unlike Yakumo's, finely tailored and off-white, looking completely out of place. The shortest of the group, blond hair combed back, stands hunched with his hands in his pockets as they approach, staring pointedly at Sanagi. Mekura can't tell if it's shadows or heavy eyeliner on his face.

"Yo, big bro," he calls, coming a little further out of the alley, "Who'd you bring?"

"This is Sanagi," Yakumo says, and slings an arm around her waist possessively despite the bored drawl of his words. He gestures with his free hand at Mekura, saying, "And that's her friend, Mekura," dismissive, making the score obvious.

She's fair game.

The young man's eyes light up. "Naki," he says simply, but he gives a big, genuine smile, the sort that Mekura can't recall seeing on anyone over the age of twelve. She's not the social butterfly Sanagi is, but she glances over to find her friend with a hand on Yakumo's arm, smiling at her mischievously and giving her a nod.

"Nice to meet you," she says politely, and if possible, Naki beams even brighter.

Naki is everything that makes her uncomfortable about Yakumo—the always clean, tailored suit, strange features and threatening swagger—but a little more clumsy, like the younger brother trying to imitate the elder. Indeed, Naki frequently refers to Yakumo as his "bro," but according to Sanagi, they aren't related.

"He just kind of stuck himself to Yakumo and didn't let go," she laughs, "Now he can't get rid of him. It's kind of cute."

Neither she nor Yakumo try very hard to disguise their intentions when they continue to have Mekura come along on what feels increasingly like double dates, as Naki conveniently shows up at the clubs they frequent not long after they arrive or is sometimes already waiting for them. Mekura finds that she doesn't mind too terribly.

They all sit at a table far too small for four people with the stools wedged in next to one another, metal legs clanking together every time someone leans over too far. Sanagi leads the conversation as always, but Mekura's attention keeps wandering to Naki, the profile of his face as he pretends he isn't staring at her, either.

"I miss the 13th ward I grew up with," Sanagi sighs, "This place used to be so exciting!"

"Thinking of leaving?" Yakumo teases, "You just got back."

She shakes her head. "Nah, I'm gonna stick around for a awhile. What about you? How long until you're onto the next ward?"

"Hm. That depends." He chuckles. "I'm here to see the Harvestman. I'll figure things out from there."

Sanagi's smile becomes tight and she rests one elbow on the table to lean her head against her hand. "No one's seen him in a while," she says curtly, "I doubt he's coming back."

Somehow, their conversations always end up going back to the Harvestman, and Sanagi always scowls and tries to change the subject. Mekura wonders why Yakumo's so fixated on some ghoul he's only heard stories about, but decides she's better off not knowing.

Not that she's paying much attention to them. A few days ago, she noticed a couple of notches in Naki's ear where the flesh is missing, and she hasn't been able to tear her eyes away from it since. She keeps meaning to ask, but she doesn't want to be rude. Something about it is attractive to her; maybe it's the wound combined with his childlike qualities, something genuine and pure. Mekura wants to believe that pure things exist, even though she's never seen them before.

"I'm surprised you ever came back to the 13th, since you hate it here so much," Yakumo comments.

Sanagi pouts and leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't hate it," she says, "It's just boring."

"Really? I think it's more interesting now than it's ever been."

"We're just going to have to agree to disagree, I guess." She smiles up at him. "You should come with me when I go. Maybe we'll run into the Harvestman."

"I've got a better chance of seeing him if I'm in the 13th," Yakumo says, eyes wandering elsewhere in disinterest.

"Maybe just a day trip, then," she urges, "Let's go to the other side of Tokyo. Why stop there? Let's go as far north as we can go, until we're at the edge of Hokkaido!"

Yakumo laughs. "That's more than a day trip."

"We can even leave Japan," Sanagi goes on, gaze distant, in her own little world with a distant smile, "We could go China, or Russia. We could just wander a while, eat whenever we feel like it."

"Where's this coming from all of the sudden?"

"I've got a bad case of wanderlust," Sanagi says coyly, looking up at him through her eyelashes, "Can you blame me? Tokyo is like a cage, and we're trapped in this tiny shit hole at the bottom."

"Tokyo is not a cage," Yakumo assures her, "Not unless you let it be."

They're looking into each other's eyes now, sharing some kind of unspoken secret that makes Mekura nervous. "Well, I'm glad you decided to come back," she says, because she feels she has to, but Sanagi glances across the table at her in annoyance for it.

Yakumo chuckles. "That's right, you have a good friend here. You couldn't just leave her behind, could you?"

Sanagi's heavy-lidded gaze flits to Mekura, a frown on her face. Mekura's heart sinks when Sanagi looks back to Yakumo with a smile. "She's a big girl," Sanagi says, "She can take care of herself."

And she isn't wrong, necessarily, but Mekura is more worried about Sanagi than herself. She's never been one to utilize healthy coping mechanisms for her feelings.

The summer of their senior year sticks out in particular to her, a miserably hot rainy season when the Nightclub Stalker struck three times in a single month, and the CCG had started cracking down, flushing out low-lying ghouls with surprise apartment inspections, searching for human flesh in the freezer and inconsistencies in family registries. Their families had always been careful, but Mekura had known it was only a matter of time with the way Sanagi behaved.

Sure enough, one afternoon, Sanagi came pounding on the door sobbing, and only later did Mekura learn her parents were dead, torn to pieces while she was gone. And yet, Sanagi never learned; she was out jeopardizing the safety of the 13th ward's ghouls again in less than a week, cozying up with one of their classmates.

That boy never got his diploma. On graduation day, Sanagi sat in the auditorium with a smile, patiently waiting for her name to be called, and didn't once spare a glance towards his empty seat.

"Meku?" Sanagi asks, waving a hand in front of her face. "Hello?" Her friend looks worried.

"Sorry," Mekura says, "What were you saying?"

"That we should get some food. You look like you could seriously use some."

Mekura shakes her head. "No, I'm still fine for a while."

"Are you sure? I was thinking, since you haven't ever tried binge-eating before…."

Mekura's fight-or-flight sensation she gets in place of a sense of adventure kicks in as she processes all of the eyes looking at her; Sanagi looks expectant, Yakumo looks impatient, and Naki looks like he hasn't been paying attention. "Sorry," she says, "I'm not feeling well tonight. I should probably go home." Sanagi shrugs, apparently content to let her go for the night, but Naki slides off of his stool when she grabs her bag and goes to leave.

"Want me to walk you home?" he asks.

"Oh! That's a great idea!" Sanagi pipes up before Mekura can even answer, "Let him walk you home."

Mekura glances at her. "No, that's okay," she says, "I don't really need—!"

Sanagi's smile falls.

"What do you mean, 'no?'"

They were in junior high. Mekura can't even remember what it was that Sanagi wanted, because this particular exchange happened a few times before and a million times after, so it could have been anything. She remembers Sanagi confronting her in the hallway, expression solemn.

"You don't really mean that, do you? I know you don't, because that would just be disappointing. You never say no to me, because that would upset me."

Mekura thinks she was afraid, but she also distinctly remembers Sanagi sounding as though she were about to cry.

"We're friends, aren't we?" And then Sanagi had fallen to her knees, sobbing. "We have to be," she cried, "There's no one else. I don't have anyone but you, Meku."

"We are friends," Mekura said quickly, and knelt by Sanagi's side, "You're my best friend."

Sanagi looked like she didn't believe her.

Mekura held out her little finger and smiled reassuringly. "I promise!"

Of course they were friends. There was no question about that.

"I guess that would be alright," Mekura says.

Sanagi seems to glow with happiness, and she knows she made the right choice.

Naki walks close enough that he keeps bumping his shoulder against hers, but as soon as he does it, he puts about a foot between them, as though afraid she'll be angry, and then slowly drifts closer again. "Are you really sick, or are you just mad at big sis Sanagi?" he asks. It's an affectionate nickname he picked up the more he spent time with the whole group; Mekura supposes it's a sign of respect, placing Sanagi on the same level as Yakumo.

She turns to him, eyes widening slightly in surprise at the accusation.

"It's okay if you are; I won't tell anyone. Big bro told me that, sometimes, when you're mad, it's better to just leave. Then you won't do something that gets you in trouble later."

"No, I'm not mad," she says, "I don't think I've ever really been mad at Sanagi, not for long, anyway."

"Oh." He's quiet for about a block before he asks, "So are you mad at big bro?"

Mekura shakes her head. "I'm not mad at anyone, Naki, really."

"You looked like you were. You kept glaring at him when they were talking. Is it because he's close to big sis? Are you scared he'll take her away?"

"He won't!"

Naki freezes. Mekura realizes she's shouted by the sound of her voice echoing down the street and shrinks back, looking away sheepishly.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I didn't mean to—I'm just feeling a little off lately, that's all."

She's had this strange feeling, like there's something inside of her, something tiny that's chewing her up inside, gnawing on her bones and making her restless, and she doesn't know what it is. It might be fear—fear that Yakumo is going to be worse for Sanagi than any boy she's been with before, and she won't be able to just eat him when things get bad.

Or could she?

"It's okay," Naki says gently, drawing closer slowly as though she's an animal he doesn't want to frighten, "You're right; big bro knows you're friends. He wouldn't just leave like that. He'd at least tell us first."

"You're right," Mekura says, nodding to herself, "Yeah. You're right."

Sanagi won't leave; no matter how badly she wants to, because she's turned her obsessions towards Yakumo now, and it would be a shame for her to have to give him up when she's just caught him. Yakumo wouldn't just take off, either. He came for the Harvestman, and he won't leave until he finds him.

Of course, he won't. He won't ever find the Harvestman, no matter how long he stays or where he looks, because the Harvestman is right in front of him, hanging off of his arm and gazing at him with unbridled lust, and he doesn't even notice.

Something, Mekura knows, is going to have to give. One of them is going to realize that they can't have what they want—Yakumo is only staying for something he won't ever find, only dating Sanagi to kill time and see what she knows—and then, something is going to happen.

The feeling grows stronger, devouring her from the inside-out. Is it fear? Is it worry? It feels a bit like insects swarming in the center of her being, breeding by the hundreds, growing out of control, eating away whatever they find and leaving her empty.

It's all a blur when she wakes up in the morning.

Even if Mekura thinks about it, really hard, all she can recall is being at the nightclub and listening to Yakumo and Sanagi talk, leaving early with Naki, her nerves eating her alive, then nothing.

"Morning, sunshine," she hears Sanagi say from somewhere nearby and blinks, rubbing her eyes and looking around blearily, trying to sit up in bed. Her whole body feels heavy; she doesn't think she can move. Sanagi appears in front of her suddenly, peering over the bed with a small smile, not unlike the insecure ones from their high school days. The old Sanagi; it makes Mekura smile. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Mekura says weakly, "But what happened? I feel awful."

"You got wasted," Sanagi snickers, "I've heard of ghouls getting drunk, but I've never actually had it happen to me before. Didn't realize you'd be such a lightweight."

Mekura purses her lips, thinking. "I remember going home early," she says.

"Yeah, you sounded kind of upset last night when you left, so I thought I'd stop by after Yakumo and I got dinner. We broke open a bottle together, but you drank a lot more than me." Sanagi pauses at the end of her story, frowning. "You really don't remember any of that?"

Mekura shakes her head. "Just the club, and then Naki walking back with me."

"Yeesh. No more bloodwine for you." Sanagi stands up, crossing her arms over her chest. "Maybe you should stay home for a few days, just take it easy."

"I probably will." Mekura smiles. "Thanks, Sanagi. You really are my best friend."

Sanagi smiles back, but she looks nervous for some reason. "Ah, yeah. You're mine, too."

After she leaves, Mekura gets up and makes some coffee, hoping to wash the awful taste out of her mouth. She leans against the counter, wondering how she must have acted when she got drunk and is thankful no one but Sanagi saw it.

She finds her t-shirt from last night stuffed in the garbage and figures she threw up on it, but still fishes it out to wash. She finds six holes in the back, large, evenly-spaced punctures arranged in two rows of three, and worries a little bit, but she pushes it out of her mind. Sanagi wouldn't lie to her, she's certain; they're best friends after all.

Surely, she'd tell her if there was something worth remembering.