"I'm going out," Kano announces. He never asks for permission, never stops to gauge the room and the sharks swimming in it. Kido's glare suffocates him but he smiles, anyway. "Be back later."
"Where are you going?" She doesn't ask him as much as she demands him, even though she makes no move to stop him. "It's almost dinner time. The others are on their way."
Right, right, right. Tonight is one of those nights, where Kido pretends they're all friends, and Seto genuinely thinks they are. Kano, all the while, has to sit through the formalities of dinner, listening to conversations he regards as torture, and eating food which makes him sick to his stomach.
They don't know that, though, and he doesn't ever tell them. "Save some for me. I swear I'll be back—just need to get some fresh air, y'know?"
His tone is easygoing, friendly. He does well to hide the acid that accumulates in the back of his throat, coating his tongue and giving him a sour aftertaste. Everything sounds sweet coming out. "No worries."
"Okay," Seto compromises, because he always does. "Okay, we'll see you in a little bit. Keep your phone on, and be safe, alright?"
Kano waves the phone around in his hand. "You got it!" He turns on his heels before he can see Kido's disapproving expression. If she really wants him to stay, she has to work for it. "I'll be back so soon, you won't even have time to miss me!"
He shuts the door on the way out.
It's night time. Kano spots the Kisaragi siblings on the street opposite of his. They pass him by completely, although Momo stares long enough for him to wonder if she can see through his facade. But after a few seconds of wonder, her gaze flickers elsewhere—the apartment complex coming into view, her brother's poor arm being used as a punching bag. She flies out of his sight and Kano's nearly doubles over.
That was close.
He arrives at his destination. Mekaku City has never been one for appearances, and aside from the tourist parts of town, the place is completely run down. The streets are gray and the walls are broken, and Kano has lost count of all the plastic wrappers he passed on his way there.
The alleyway is dark and narrow, opening up to a wide, empty wall at the far end of it.
He pulls out the crumpled photo in his pocket.
A girl with dark brown hair and brown eyes stares up at him. She wears a school uniform over a long cardigan and skirt. He doesn't know if it's because of the tears in the photo, but all the colors are muted. Her red scarf is almost brown, and there is a tiny tear across her mouth, obscuring her expression and blocking her eyes.
His hands are trembling. He can barely keep still.
This one's for you, he thinks. All of it's for you.
It's been that way from the beginning.
His phone is ringing in his pocket. Kano makes a vague note of the time on his phone: 11:53 PM. Almost midnight, and far past the time he promised. In fact, he should've been home by now.
Seven missed calls from Kido, thirteen from Seto, and ten texts from them both. There is also another missed call from a number he doesn't recognize—maybe it's one of the other members.
He doesn't care. He's stopped caring a long time ago, and he convinces himself of this as he shuts down his phone, ignoring the blaring notifications. Before the screen goes dark, he sees the battery: 13% remaining.
Perfect.
All the distractions are out of his way, and when his gas mask is pulled over his face, Kano can finally breathe.
Why does paint smell so bad?
Not that Kano can smell it when his gas mask is on, but the question still remains.
Why can't anything work out, for once?
She stands before him, the girl with the red scarf. Only she is taller than him, now, and twice as large. In the wall, she is preserved like stone, cracked and chipped but colorful. He knows this isn't going to last, either. He knows that she's going to disappear again, weathered down by rain and time. He knows that there is no use depicting ghosts—drawing demons and memories and fragments of himself. He knows it all too well.
But he does it, anyway, to the point where he can't avoid her anymore. He's out of paint, but he finds a way to write her name in the wall, in bright red—her favorite color.
Ayano Tateyama, it reads. The world is not as bright without you.
It'll never be bright again.
"Where is he? Where's Kano? It's past midnight!" Kido is shaking, and Seto doesn't know how to reassure her, or their guests for the night. Dinner has been served and eaten hours ago—only one portion is left sitting out in the cold. "Seto, where is he?"
"Does he do this," Shintaro asks while flailing his arms about, "often?"
God, Seto wishes it were only him and Kido tonight. Instead, the Kisaragi siblings are looking worried, and Mary is curled up on the couch. She doesn't get along with Kano, but she can sense danger just as well as the rest of them. To make matters worse, the loudmouth Ene is talking non-stop from Hibiya's phone—Hibiya himself tries not to look disturbed from the whole ordeal. He probably wants to go home, and soon.
Seto doesn't know how to answer, so he simply shrugs it off. "Kano does what he wants, usually. One time, he fell asleep on the train and didn't wake up until he reached the last stop. We had to drive out three hours to get him."
Drive, that's right. They're all kids, still, and most of them don't have the luxury or time to get a license. But Seto is a good boy, who dedicated his hard-earned money towards getting a license, and had to give the last of his cash away to buy a beat-up, used car. It's a seven-seater, though, so if the whole gang tried their hardest, they could fit inside. If worse comes to worse, and Kano is out in the streets somewhere, Seto will drive to pick him up.
If he'd just answer his damned phone, then this would be over with, already!
"Yikes," is all Shintaro can say in reply. "Well, he's dramatic, so, uh...hope for the best?"
"You're not exactly helping the situation, you know..." Momo sighs. Her older brother is awkward, indelicate, and downright stupid sometimes. She doesn't care that he's gotten full marks on every test he's ever taken in class—back when he went to class, anyway. Right now he's dumber than a doorknob.
Kido is waiting for a knock. "Okay, I hate to trouble you guys like this, but since we're already here waiting for him, let's go out and find the jerk."
"Is that a good idea? They might get in trouble at home." Seto knows that Mrs. Kisaragi is a good woman who dotes on her children just enough to be charming, rather than coddling. The same could be said for Hibiya and Konoha—the latter who hasn't spoken a single word up until now except for 'Hi' when he showed up at their door earlier—who were expected back at their home.
Wait, could freeloading in Kenjirou's old place be considered a home? Seto would have to get back to them on that one.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Kido insists. "Seto and I will be going, though. Be safe on your way home if you're going."
To their surprise, no one gets up to leave. Instead, Mary jumps to her feet—a little wobbly, she's still getting the hang of things—before saying, "I-I'm coming with you to find Kano."
"Same!" Ene screeches from Hibiya's phone, but reappears in Seto's with ease. "I'll help find the blond."
"I want to go home."
"I want to help!"
The Kisaragis are in-sync yet completely off-balance as ever. Momo gapes at her older brother. "Seriously, Kano is missing and you want to go home?"
"It's not my fault he's gone," Shintaro mutters. "But I don't want to head back alone. So, fine, whatever."
They all agree in the end, and Seto has never been happier.
If only Kano could see them now.
He is a cat, black-furred and long-tailed, curled underneath the open lid of a dumpster.
He is a dog, blond and short-haired, gaunt as he searches the gutters for scraps.
He is a little girl, ginger and freckled, covered in grime and sobbing for her mother.
He is an older boy, with slicked brown hair, carrying a schoolbag and complaining.
He is everyone, and he is no one.
His eyes are closed when he hears her voice, cajoling him like a siren out to sea.
"You can rest now, Shuuya~" she sings.
You can rest.
