The blackouts happened a lot in high school.

She remembers being afraid the first time, waking up in a strange place with blood on her hands, and she called Sanagi instead of her parents because Sanagi always understood. "It's fine, I'll be right there," she'd say, and Mekura would shakily pick herself up off the floor, one hand clenched tightly around her cell phone while the other groped blindly in the dark until her eyes adjusted and she found the door. It was always somewhere in the middle of nowhere, some rusted industrial complex in the old end of town or an unloading dock after hours. And Sanagi would come, wrap her arms around Mekura until she stopped trembling, reassuring, something like, "It's alright, Meku, everything's gonna be okay."

It wasn't okay, not really, but Mekura let Sanagi convince her it was. The blood wasn't a problem, the lapses in memory weren't a problem, the holes along the back of her shirt that she always found, and she never could see wounds to go along with them—none of it was a problem.

"Look, Meku, a harvestman spider," Sanagi had said one of those nights, when Mekura had called her in the dead of winter on a Tuesday night because she'd woken up somewhere she didn't recognize, a sweet taste in her mouth. It had been an abandoned building that time, an old house condemned and set for demolition in a week, and Mekura could see her breath in the air whenever she exhaled. Sanagi sat with her in the cold, concrete floor and pointed to the indistinct shape that tiptoed over to them curiously. Mekura could see its long, spindly legs.

"Just like the Harvestman," Sanagi said with a smile.

Harvestman spiders, Mekura learned at some point in school, are actually blind. Their eyes can't make images, so they use their front two legs to sense what happens around them. They go through life groping blindly, stumbling along unseeing, heading straight into danger without fear.

Mekura admires them, even now. They see nothing, but they don't hide themselves in a quiet corner and never come out again. They need to eat and live and find other harvestmen who understand them. They don't' let their fear of the unknown keep them from living.

"The harvestman is brave," Mekura had said, and she didn't just mean the spider, and Sanagi smiled.

"So you don't have to worry about being brave," Sanagi said, "You just be yourself. Just be my friend, and I'll be the Harvestman."

And Mekura had held onto Sanagi all the way home, promising she was her friend, that she would always be her fried, that she wasn't brave anyway and didn't think she ever would be. Mekura was the weak one, the cowardly one, and Sanagi was the strong one. Sanagi was brave so she didn't have to be.

She stayed close to Sanagi at times like that, basked in the comfort she gave. She hoped she and Sanagi would always be friends.

They had to be. They had to be, because they had no one else. They were all the other had. She couldn't let anything happen to Sanagi, couldn't let anyone take Sanagi away. But nobody would ever be enough for Sanagi, anyway, and nobody knew Sanagi like Mekura did. Even when she foolishly dated humans to satisfy her lust for danger, it wouldn't last forever. In the end, Sanagi would always come back to her, and things would be right again.

They walked the path of the Harvestman home, a trail of blood that went for miles, beneath highway underpasses and through dark alleys, a trail of blood, and strewn along it were the broken bodies of ghouls, little holes in their skin where the Harvestman had pierced them. Mekura never asked about it; Sanagi never told her.

"I'm your best friend, aren't I?" Mekura would ask.

Sanagi nodded. "Yes," she answered, and she sounded sad somehow, "Yes, you are."

It's week four of Sanagi's longest relationship ever, and things aren't going well.

Mekura doesn't have any real evidence, no point-blank admissions of difficulty, but she sees it in the way Sanagi's confident smile has faltered, warping into something anxious. She sees Sanagi tapping her fingers on the table in a staccato rhythm but doesn't hear it because her nails are bitten down to the quick. Yakumo doesn't seem to notice that anything's wrong; he looks even more indifferent than usual, completely uninterested in Sanagi or anything she has to say, not even looking at her anymore.

"So," Mekura says awkwardly, because they've been sitting at their usual spot at the club for five minutes and only Naki has said a word, "What do you two have planned for tonight?"

Sanagi doesn't answer, but she drums her fingers harder on the table.

Yakumo shrugs. "Nothing exciting."

"Really? No, uh, binge-eating?"

"Binge-eating is a disgusting habit," he says.

Sanagi frowns tightly. "Why don't you and Naki go do something?" she snaps, "You don't need to hang around us all the time."

"No need to be nasty," Yakumo says, glancing in her direction for the first time that night.

"But that's all they do. It's not like they can't go do their own thing now and then."

"I didn't realize I was bothering you," Mekura says stiffly, "You told me you wanted me along when you first started seeing each other."

"Well, I changed my mind."

"I can tell." Mekura excuses herself hurriedly, grabbing her purse and rushing out the nightclub door, Naki hot on her heels.

"Hey, wait, Meku!" he calls, running after her into the cold night air, "Slow down!"

She stops, rubbing at her face with one hand and trying to scrub away the burning in her nose and the sobs that are trying to come out.

"Meku," Naki says softly, and reaches out to move her hands aside. She bites her lip when a few tears escape, and Naki wipes them away with a gentleness she didn't know he possessed. "Don't cry. Big sis is just in a bad mood. Bro gets like that sometimes, too."

"I-I know that," she says, but her voice is shaking.

"Come on," he says, "I'll take you home," and he clumsily tries to lace their fingers together before he gives up and just grabs her hand.

"Naki, you don't need to hold my hand," she murmurs, embarrassed.

He doesn't let go. "I know," he says, "I just want to."

The feeling she gets, that all-consuming mass of skittering creatures inside of her, seems to subside when Naki's warm hand touches hers, and Mekura chases that relief, walking beside him and staying as close as she can, shoulder-to-shoulder. Naki seems flustered at first, continually glancing over at her, but he gets used to it eventually.

But it comes back—it comes back in a way that catches Mekura off guard, a powerful desire the likes of which she isn't sure she's felt before. It hits her like a wave and spreads over her skin, and it comes from Naki, Naki and his large, childlike eyes, his penchant for unabashedly happy smiles, his uncomplicated manner of speaking, that stupid suit he always wears, holes in his ears.

Pale skin and delicate fingers, beautiful eyes and strong shoulders. Mouths that move but speak little that's worthwhile.

Naki's grip on her hand tightens a little bit and his smile falls, replaced by an expression of intense focus as he studies her face. Mekura wonders if he can feel it, too, if the sensation has passed between them through their fingers, if they're just what the other needs right now.

Naki's thumb strokes the back of her hand, and he starts walking faster.

They only barely make it in the door.

Mekura doesn't know where to put her hands, so they go everywhere; looping around his arms and impatiently tugging at his hair, running down his chest and trying to pull his suit off because there's too much between them. He returns the favor with twice as much enthusiasm, yanking her jeans off of her hips hard enough to leave light red marks burning on her skin, nearly ripping her shirt trying to get it off, but she doesn't care. They're still in the entryway of her apartment, and he has her pressed against the wall with clumsy kisses where they clink teeth and bump noses and keep forgetting to breathe.

He slips on one of their discarded shirts and Mekura gives a short shriek when she's pulled to the ground with him, but he manages to twist around so she lands on his chest. They lay there, panting, half-dressed, hair disheveled and faces red, for almost a minute. "Is this," Mekura says breathlessly, "Is this way too fast? I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm really sorry. I mean, Sanagi does this sort of thing all the time, but I don't—!"

"No, it's fine," Naki says, and plants a kiss on her collarbone, pulling her down onto him by her shoulders.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he says, and cuts off any further uncertainties with a kiss, more carefully this time. Mekura is still figuring out how to angle her face, but Naki is already licking at her lips, one hand wandering daringly to the front of her underwear. For the first time, Mekura stops worrying or agonizing or even thinking; she just feels, and everything is alright.

It's the stress, Mekura tells herself. It's the change in routine, Yakumo appearing on Sanagi's coattails and Naki shortly after him. It's just her adjusting, and it'll all go back to normal—she'll be back to normal.

But she can't seem to recall what normal is, exactly.

"They're from my bro, Yamori."

Mekura rolls onto her side and glances up at Naki, who's sitting up in bed.

"You've been staring at my ears."

Her face flushes. "You noticed?"

"Yeah." He smiles. "I don't mind."

She scoots closer, hiding her face against his side and drapes an arm over his chest. Naki's hand comes to rest on her back between her shoulder blades, warm and strong. She closes her eyes and relaxes into the touch. "What do you mean, they're from him? Did he hurt you?"

Naki shrugs. "I just made him mad, that's all."

"You're really fond of him."

"Yeah," Naki says, smiling with a distant look in his eyes. "He's my big bro, after all. I look up to him. I want to be strong like he is someday." He glances down at Mekura. "It's the same for you, right? That's why you follow big sis Sanagi around? Because you want to be like her?"

Mekura blinks, surprised at the question. "You think so?" she muses, "I follow her around?"

"Oh. I thought you did."

"No, you're right. I do." Mekura preses her face against his skin and breathes in his scent. "I want to be strong, like her," she mutters against him, "Like the Harvestman."

"Huh?"

"The Harvestman," Mekura repeats, slowly pushing herself upright to look Naki in the eye. She thinks, maybe, she's saying things she shouldn't, telling stories where there should only be silence. Sanagi would probably be mad. But she can't seem to stop herself from talking. She hears skittering somewhere deep inside, the whispering of little creatures—spiders, maybe—as they lay their eggs inside of her, telling their secrets. "That's who I want to be like. That's the kind of strength I want to have."

"Is big sis Sanagi the Harvestman?"

"I...I never said that," she says uneasily.

"Just asking." Naki pulls her into his lap, running his hands over her shoulders to push the blankets away and expose her skin. "But, you know, my bro Yamori thought she was." He doesn't seem all that invested in the conversation; his eyes are half-lidded and he isn't quite looking at her face. "He thought, maybe, she was just keeping it a secret. She is pretty strong, after all."

"No, she," Mekura gasps when Naki leans forward and bites her neck, nibbling on the soft flesh and sucking at the spot afterwards in apology, "She isn't."

Naki slowly eases her onto her back and climbs on top, but Mekura reverses their positions without warning, holding onto Naki as she rolls over and straddles his hips. He yelps in surprise but his expression turns to pleased curiosity in moments. "Yeah," he says hoarsely, "Big bro told me it couldn't be her."

"It couldn't be?"

"No," Naki says, grabbing at her hips impatiently, "It couldn't."

"But why not?"

"Who cares?" Naki mutters, "Let's just worry about us right now," and she eagerly nods in agreement as he starts up a steady rhythm.

"You and Naki seem to be getting along well."

Mekura doesn't come any closer to the table, glancing around the club and trying to find Sanagi somewhere on the dance floor or coming back from the bathroom, because it's just Yakumo sitting there.

"Sanagi isn't here," he says, "I invited you out alone, because I just wanted to talk to you."

Mekura still doesn't move.

"We don't have to stay here, if you don't want," Yakumo says, smiling as he gets to his feet, "Where would you like to go?"

"What do you want to talk to me about?" she asks, "And why can't Sanagi be here, too? Or Naki?"

"They'd just get in the way." Mekura takes a step back when he starts coming closer, but his legs are longer and he crosses the room faster than she can move away, one arm snaking around her and landing heavily on her shoulder. "Besides, the two of us have never really had the chance to talk," he says, "We're friends, aren't we?"

He says the word "friends" in a way that grates on Mekura's nerves, rubbing something inside of her the wrong way. "I suppose," she says through gritted teeth.

Yakumo's cold, lizard-like smile widens. He steers her towards the club door and out onto the street, picks a direction, and starts walking.

"Sanagi and I have been talking about the Harvestman lately."

Mekura keeps her gaze on the sidewalk in front of her, only looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "That's all you ever talk about," she thinks.

"I thought she might know something and not want to tell me, but I think there's more to it than that."

"Sanagi likes you too much to lie to you," Mekura says stubbornly. Yakumo's grip on her tightens and she takes a shuddering breath. His eyes are too far apart on his head; it reminds her of a frog she had to dissect in middle school, the awful stench of formaldehyde, and the squeals of her classmates and her own squeamishness as Sanagi picked it up off the table and wiggled it in her face.

"Now why don't I believe that?" he muses, "But more importantly, I think you know more than she does. "

Mekura is afraid, but she's also angry; angry at herself for letting him get to close to Sanagi, for letting this go on as long as it has, for foolishly deluding herself into believing that somehow, Jason would be the right thing for her best friend, that he could fill the void she'd been trying desperately to fill for years.

"You're a good girl, Meku. Naki would be upset if anything happened to you."

"I knew you were no good," she says shakily, "You're only using Sanagi, and me, to find the Harvestman. You don't really care about her. I should have stopped her from getting close to you."

"Sanagi's a big girl," Yakumo says, leering down at her, "She can do what she wants."

"You don't know anything," Mekura says, glaring up at him defiantly despite the fear coursing through her veins, "You don't know Sanagi, not like I do. You wouldn't have been enough for her anyway."

"I don't know anything?" Yakumo repeats, laughing, "Really? And I suppose you have all the answers. Tell me, Meku, why'd Sanagi leave the 13th ward in the first place?"

"Because she was bored."

"That's it? There's no other reason? No other reason she's desperate to get far away from here as soon as possible, even though she just came back a few weeks ago?"

"She isn't. She said she's staying for at least a little while."

"Why'd she come back?"

"To see me."

Yakumo laughs again, louder this time.

"S-she did!" Mekura insists.

"Sure she did. Well, how about this; what did you do that night you skipped out on binge-eating?"

"I…." Mekura hesitates. "How would you know?"

"Sanagi told me what you did." He smiles, cold and twisted. "We talk about you an awful lot."

"It doesn't matter what I did."

"It doesn't matter?" he taunts, "Or you don't remember?"

"No, I…Sanagi told me. She said we drank together."

Yakumo's eyes narrow. "And you believe her?"

Mekura realizes they're just a block from her apartment and tears herself out of his grip, putting a few feet between them before she spins to watch Yakumo, slowly walking backward.

He shakes his head, chuckling. "I don't know which one of you two I pity more," he says, "Sanagi's put herself in a lot of trouble, but you're in just as much if you don't even know about it."

Mekura turns on her heel and runs the rest of the way home, heart pounding, fumbling for her keys on the way up the stairs and jamming them into the slot with trembling hands.

The moment the door opens, someone grabs her arm and pulls her inside, and she lets out a short screech when she's slammed against the wall in the entryway, the back of her head throbbing with pain. She sees Sanagi in front of her, eyes wide and wild, reaching with her free hand to lock the door while she has her other forearm braced across Mekura's chest, holding her in place.

"Sanagi?" she asks nervously, "What are you doing in—?"

"Where were you just now?" her friend demands, eyes swirling with red and black as her kakugan activates.

"I was at the nightclub, Yakumo called, and I thought you would be there, too—!"

"What did he say to you?"

Mekura hesitates. "Um…."

Sanagi slams her other hand on the wall beside Mekura's head. "What did he say?" she seethes.

Mekura whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut. "H-he asked me about the Harvestman!" she stammers, "He, he wanted me to tell him what I knew, b-but I didn't! I didn't tell him anything, Sanagi, I swear!"

"What else?"

"He said you talk about me, and he asked a bunch of questions, about why you left, and why you came back, and s-stuff like that, but I—!"

"Shit," Sanagi mutters, and steps back, releasing Mekura, whose legs give out in fear. She falls to her knees, staring up at Sanagi with tears in her eyes, shaking.

"Sanagi?" she whispers, "I'm…I'm your friend, aren't I?"

Sanagi crouches next to her, throwing her arms around her in a warm embrace. "Yes, Meku," she says gently, "You're my very best friend. Don't worry about what he said, okay? Just forget about it."

"But I—?"

"Forget it," Sanagi says firmly, "Whatever he said to you isn't the truth, you know that. I would never lie to you."

"I know. You're right." Mekura brings her arms up to hug Sanagi back, burying he face against her collarbones. "You can't stay with him. He's going to hurt you, I know he is."

Sanagi lets go, holding Mekura by the shoulders to hold her gaze. "I can't, not yet," she says with a sad smile, "But don't worry, he won't do anything to me. I'm too strong for that."

"Sanagi," Mekura cries, "Please, I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," her friend promises, "It's alright, Meku. Just wait a little longer. I'll take care of this; the Harvestman will take care of this. You trust me, don't you?"

Mekura looks into Sanagi's eyes, the black slowly receding and the soft brown returning to her irises. She takes a deep breath and nods.

"Yes, I do."

Sanagi hugs her again, squeezing so tightly that it almost hurts, but Mekura bears with it, because she does believe Sanagi.

Only the Harvestman has the power to put things back to the way they're meant to be, and if she just believes, she knows everything will be okay.