Kano starts his search in the room where it all started: the living room.
He wonders what he looked like, unconscious and laying on the leather couch as he did just yesterday. In truth, no one in their right mind should trust strangers that had assaulted you in any way, shape, or form. Normally, Kano wouldn't trust strangers even if they didn't do that to him. Yet they did assault him, and sure they had the decency to nurse him back to health right after, but that didn't hide the fact that they made up some bullshit reason to cover it up, so the lie on their end would always stay in Kano's mind.
For some reason, though, the lie itself isn't the problem here. What bothers Kano is their reasoning behind it all, and the way they acted as they did. Why keep him alive if their intent was to harm him? Why let him go, if they seemed so heartbroken at his sudden return? Why approach him so desperately in the middle of the street, and so urgently, as though they'd been searching for him for some time?
Oh God, he wonders. Have they been searching for me?
But why would they search for someone they don't know about? Unless…
It just doesn't make any sense. But Kano doubts that looking through the living room will bring him any answers. Except for the offending paperweight, there's nothing in the room that stands out as important or even descriptive. It's the same as it looked last time (last time being literally yesterday, he can't believe he's back here already, he must be insane), so he moves on to the next room.
To the right of the living room is the start of the kitchen. It's small, with barely any counterspace, and the majority of the floorspace is occupied by the rectangular table that's pressed against the farthest wall. Kano inspects it and finds that there are chairs against the back wall, and that whoever sits at this place would have to be pretty skinny to be comfortable to fit in the space. (Kinda like himself—no, no, Kano, don't think like that.) Not to mention that all the chairs are mismatched, too, like they didn't have the money to buy an actual set of furniture, but instead scrapped together whatever they could, whether it was through clearance sales or taking abandoned chairs on the side of someone's street.
Actually, the same could be said of everything in this apartment. Nothing went with anything, and it seems like the focus isn't on style, but on function. That part makes sense to Kano—those three people looked no older than he did, and with the way they were acting, they sure as hell didn't have any real adult supervision around. They're probably slumming it out, but in the nicer part of town. Not a bad strategy, if he thinks about it. There's three of them, so surely they split the costs of living evenly.
"Three people," Kano suddenly says to himself. "Girl with the green hair is Kido. The sheep girl is Mary. And that guy is Seto." He remembers their names from yesterday, too. In the haze of their frenzied behavior, they addressed each other with a certain fondness and sincerity, but Kano thinks it's all for naught—they showed their true colors whether they believed it or not, and let their guard down around him. Must be nice to afford that sort of security. Kano couldn't imagine it…
But if there are three people, why are there so many bedrooms? He wanders to the left hallway, now, and sees multiple doors leading to different rooms. Before he goes into a specific room, he just opens all the doors, and takes note of what he finds. In total, there are six bedrooms, and three bathrooms. Of those six bedrooms, four look more lived-in than the other two. And of the bathrooms, two are pretty run-down but still passably clean, while the remaining bathroom must be the "good bathroom," because it has more stuff in it than the other two.
Past all the bedrooms, there is a small door at the back of the hallway that leads outside. Kano observes a small stretch of backyard (emphasis on small) that connects to the kitchen, actually. But the door in the kitchen that leads outside is partially blocked by the large dining table, which makes Kano laugh. What an inconvenience it must be for the people living here, to climb over the dining table just to get outside.
With the general scan out of the way, Kano closes all the doors again, and decides to inspect each room carefully, one at a time.
He starts with the first one. The door that opens doesn't creak, so he figures that whoever stays in this room must be serious about maintaining it. There is a single bed tucked in the corner of the room, as well as a dresser on the opposite side of the room. But what stands out the most are the decorations: various music posters, a couple of stuffed animals, a potted plant on the windowsill.
The music posters are of indie bands and solo artists, the stuffed animals look neglected because of the dust on their fur, and the potted plant is the kind that survives well on its own. All of this leading up to the type of person that is either too busy to be bothered with little details like these, but still caring enough to try.
"This has to be Kido's room," Kano says to himself. "All this purple…" He debates whether or not he should look through her drawers, but stops the debate at once, flinging the drawers open instantly. Kido and the others didn't care that they handled him roughly—why should he show consideration to their things when they aren't here?
(Why does he even care to imagine how they'd feel, anyway? No, wait, don't answer that—)
The contents of Kido's drawers are normal and unsuspecting. Just a bunch of clothes, a rolled-up pair of wired earbuds, an aux cable, and a couple of books. He closes all the drawers after failing to find something interesting, but stops at one.
Kano's breath hitches. A sensation of cold washes over him, shivering. His hands stop moving, and it feels like the rest of his body stops, too. He doesn't know if his eyes widen or if they narrow or if they just can't understand what he's looking at. It's so simple, so in his reach. There is a piece of fabric at the bottom of Kido's drawer and this one piece of fabric is enough to hit him with a revelation the weight of a semi-truck.
Slowly, the blonde reaches out, and pulls up a small black hoodie from the bottom of Kido's drawer. It seems to be in total and utter disrepair, with old stains along the hood, and threads coming apart at the seams. Either it was in the washer for too long or the dryer for too short, because it's loose and stretchy, and has the texture that old swimwear does, despite not appearing like a swimming hood.
It's a black hoodie with strange white designs by the hood.
It seems so familiar.
Kano doesn't wonder why Kido would have something like this in her drawers (unless she's just as sentimental and weird as she made herself out to be), but he doesn't care.
He throws the hoodie into his backpack. It slumps over the paperweight and makes the inside of Kano's backpack appear like an endless void. He has to stare once, twice, thrice into its depths to confirm that he did put it in there. Then he zips it up quickly, as though something bad will happen if he lets the world see it.
As though something bad has already happened.
But there's not enough time in the day to ponder this and that—Kano is content with what he's found in Kido's room, and moves on to the next.
Seto's room, as he's decided it is based on the men's clothing in the closet, is right next to Kido's. Inside there are the bare essentials—a futon (not a true bed, maybe because Seto is so tall and the room is so small so it's easier for him to sleep on the floor than to try and cram himself in a bed, and God, why won't Kano stop guessing at their lives like he cares? Why?), a hamper, a small writing desk that folds up to save space, and several pairs of work shoes that are lined up next to a full-length mirror, the length of which might be too short for Seto, still.
Despite the clutter of various objects around the room, everything is neat and folded and put in its place. It's also very clean, which together with Seto's appearance in public, leads Kano to think that Seto is out too often to make use of his room. He shrugs and decides he's done with this room, and heads to the next one.
The blonde wraps his arms around his body, shivering. It's winter but this place has no insulation or heat to speak of. Haruka's place has spoiled him, Kano thinks. He wishes their floors were heated like his and Haruka's were.
Speaking of Haruka, "He'll probably think I'm insane for this." Kano laughs to himself. "Better not to tell him about any of this. But he had a weird look about him last night, so I wonder if he already knows, somehow. Huh." He wouldn't be surprised—his roommate had incredible intuition, and anticipates Kano's thoughts before Kano himself has them. Or at the very least, that's how Kano sometimes feels, especially under the other boy's scrutiny.
Regardless, he has no time to ruminate on the subject. He opens the door into the third room, and sees that this room is so neat, it's practically empty. There are still the typical fixtures like a bed and place to store clothes, but other than that, there's little in the way of personality. At most, he'd guess that the person who lives in this room likes reading, because there's a small bookshelf on the far side of the room.
But on further inspection, Kano frowns when he realizes most of the books are mangas and magazines, and nothing too thought-provoking, at that. He doesn't like the idea that he shares something in common with this person—that he, too, prefers quick reads and nice pictures compared to longer novels. And whoever owns this room has no mirror, or at least the place for one has long since been removed, and—hey, wait, are those mourning flowers on the windowsill?
He steps carefully towards the window, but he doesn't have long to admire the flowers.
The sound of the front door opening resonates, and Kano's heartbeat quickens. Someone's home.
He doesn't think. He can't think. Thinking takes time, and he only has a few seconds to work with, at most. He could just close the door, but what if the person who lives in this room returns to it? He could close the door and hide under the bed, or even in the closet, but what if they find him?
And what if they kill him for real this time? Or worse, lock him up, and spout more nonsense about how this is his home and they've missed him so much?
Kano decides to close the bedroom door. He tosses the backpack into the mostly-empty closet, and steps into it himself, leaving the door open just enough to see through the crack. If someone comes into the room, he's doomed. Not because he's dead, but because he'll have to fight to ensure he doesn't die, and suddenly the weight of the box knife in his pocket feels immense. Will he have to put this to use? He's not afraid to hold his own—he's done it on more than one occasion in the past couple of months, even if it was only to scare away other punks and not actually hurt anyone—and he'll fight whoever he has to if it means preserving himself.
All these thoughts reel in his head, forming a cold sweat. Kano attempts to control his breathing, and focus on his hands, instead. One hand is grasping the handle of the box knife in his pocket, with his index finger slowly reaching on the hitch, ready to extend the blade at a moment's notice. His other hand is clutching his backpack, holding steady so the nerves don't make him dizzy to the point of falling over. He never has been good with his balance, despite appearing so lithe. What if they see that weakness in him? What if they see him?
In the moment between eternity and reality, all Kano can do is wait.
Hands trembling, all the while.
On the other side of town, two girls have made their way through the danger-filled streets, and have arrived at the location where Kano's phone described as "home."
What they find is a luxury apartment complex tall enough to be a skyscraper. It's black, sleek, and almost camoflauged in the dead of night. The lights that are on pour like liquid gold into the streets, and a plethora of limousines and fancy cars surround the building on the outside.
Kido motions for Mary to stay directly behind her, and the girl does just that. There are more people on this side of the street at night, and any wayward motion could cause Kido to bump into them, dispelling the useful effect of Concealing Eyes and revealing two young girls for what they are.
Maybe this was a bad idea, after all.
But they made it this far, so it would be foolish to give up. Kido sucks in a breath, and moves carefully. She dodges other pedestrians, and ignores all the things that make her uncomfortable: cigarette smoke, the stench of alcohol, sleazy adults leaning on each other and laughing too loudly. She guides Mary as best she can, like a shepherd herding her prized sheep, and practically zigzags to the front of the building.
There, a couple of fancy doormen stand out front, as well as a security guard who casually paces outside. It seems their intimidating presence is enough to deter any threats to the inside of the apartment building, but that also means it will be difficult to slip past them. Kido doesn't think that she can open the doors without being noticed, so she waits for a tenant to enter first.
After several minutes of waiting, an elderly woman in a fancy coat walks towards the entrance, and Kido says to Mary: "Let's follow her closely from behind. Be careful and don't bump into anyone."
Mary nods fervently. "I'll do my best." She really will, because messing up means they'll get in trouble somehow, and there's no room for error in their operation. Part of the medusa still wishes that the other members of the Mekakushi Dan were in on it, but there's nothing she can do now. Maybe if they can successfully sneak in, she can text Momo or Shintaro, just in case…
"Now!" Kido hisses, falling in line behind the elderly woman. The doormen hold open the doors for her, and Kido and Mary make it just in time before they close the doors right after her. Inside, there is a fancy lobby with black leather chairs and gold-decorated tables, and chandeliers that look nothing like chandeliers but rather a real-life version of a child's fanciful scribbles.
Kido remembers what they're here for, though, and she follows the elderly woman all the way to the elevator. She tells Mary that they're going to wait for the woman to get off at her floor before they touch any of the buttons. Mary understands and stays close to Kido, as close as possible without them tripping on each other, that is.
The elderly woman presses the number 5.
Mary and Kido wait.
The elderly woman gets off on her floor.
Mary and Kido still wait.
When the stranger is gone, they breathe easily, and wait for the elevator doors to close before pressing the number 8.
"808," Kido reminds them aloud. "Let's be careful about Kano's roommate."
"Right." Mary blinks, then mutters, "Do you think his roommate is a bad person?"
The elevator reaches their destination. Kido steps out, and stands off to the side with Mary in tow. The doors close as she asks, "I don't know about that. What I do know is that whoever Kano's roommate is suspicious, at the very least. I mean, who takes in someone with amnesia and doesn't try to help them find their old friends and family?"
"Yeah, that's what I was wondering, too." She frowns slightly, her delicate brows drawing together. "If they didn't help Kano find us, or at least look up Mr. Kenjirou and Mrs. Ayaka's information, then…"
"To be fair," Kido begins to say, "it might be hard to find information about us."
"Us?"
"You, me, Kano and Seto. Ayaka, Kenjirou, and Ayano, too. We're the only ones who visit their graves still. And if we think back to the orphanage where Kano, Seto, and I are from…well, we're not their problem anymore."
"...Maybe that's why the roommate never helped Kano," Mary theorizes. "Maybe there was too little information t-to go off of…"
"That doesn't matter now. Let's consider Kano's new 'roommate' as a threat until we can confirm otherwise." Kido sighs deeply. It takes a moment for her to resume speaking. "...Okay?"
"Okay."
"Alright. 808, let's go."
"Um, Kido…I meant to ask this earlier…" Mary bites her lip; Kido holds her hand. They're still walking towards room 808 when Mary says, "But how exactly are we going to get inside? Kano didn't have a key on him when we searched him."
"No, he didn't." With her free hand, Kido fishes something out of her own pocket. She reveals a lockpicking tool, sleek and black. "But Kano is the one that taught me how to pick a lock. Let's see if that trick still works."
Kano waits in the dark for what feels like forever.
A cursory glance at his phone says that barely five minutes have elapsed since he first heard someone entering through the front door. He remembers hearing footsteps in the distance—he doesn't know if those footsteps are going in his direction or not, but it's hard to discern anything over his beating heart.
He puts his phone away, afraid that even at max dimness, the screen is too bright for the dark closet.
Then, just as he settles back into his old position, a voice in the distance startles him.
"Kido? Mary?" It sounds like the guy—Seto—from yesterday. "Anyone home?" His voice echoes throughout the home. Kano grimaces at how thin these walls are.
But with silence as his answer, Seto goes quiet. Kano can hear his footsteps getting louder and louder. Then, the bedroom door opens, and Kano whispers a silent Oh shit, while Seto enters the threshold.
With equal parts fear and curiosity, Kano's golden eyes gleam in the crack of light let into the closet. He is careful not to make any noise, so instead, he focuses on Seto's appearance. It seems the other just got back from work, as he's wearing a jumpsuit befitting a delivery boy, with a brimmed cap and steady work gloves dirtied from recent use.
Seto stands silent in the room, gazing over all the furniture within. With a deep sigh, he drags his feet, the sound of socks softly scraping against the hardwood floors. He reaches out to touch the bedpost, but then removes his hand, as though the process of remembering is too painful to bear. As though the bed and the dresser and the closet and all the things in this room grew spikes and hurt him. As though he misses whoever lives, or used to live, in here.
No, Kano thinks to himself. No, don't let it be true.
But if it weren't true, why do you look so sad, Seto?
Why?
"Oh, Kano…" Seto looks over his shoulder, then sighs. "I should dust and wash the floors soon," he says to no one in particular. "Maybe I'll clean the whole house. Kido needs a break."
"..."
"Yeah, okay." Seto turns his back on the room, and holds the bedroom doorknob with one hand. With the other, he lowers his hat to cover his eyes, his voice completely choked up as he says, "Rest well, Kano."
Then he closes the door.
Seto closes the door, and doesn't realize the sick irony of Kano being in this very room as he spoke.
But Kano realizes then and there that his presence in the room didn't matter. Seto has no way of knowing that Kano is actually in the room with him, so that means he spoke from the heart just now.
The plain room, the magazines, the mourning flowers on the windowsill…
And the black hoodie in Kido's room, the amount of rooms, the way they acted when he returned…
It's no coincidence. Kano doesn't want to believe it, but the evidence speaks for itself.
This is his room, somehow. These are his people, somehow.
Yet he doesn't remember any of it. He doesn't remember it, and a person without memories might as well be a ghost.
It's that thought that leads Kano to a moment of vulnerability, and he spares himself a laugh, despite everything.
He's a ghost to these people, he's haunted them for who knows how long. And now, inexplicably, he's back in the living world.
A painful reminder that not even his own death could be done right, and that Kano Shuuya's life, or what remains of it, is one endless mistake after another.
It's just as well.
Two minutes after Kido pulls out the lockpick, and the door to room 808 opens, and it opens wide.
Mary claps, congratulating Kido for her success.
Kido simply shrugs, and steps inside, holding the door open for Mary before closing it slowly. After all, if they were heard throughout this operation, that would defeat the entire purpose of being sneaky up until now. So to the best of their abilities, they'll maintain stealth.
Within, both girls are stunned at the sheer luxury of the place. Black leather couches, a twisted coil chandelier, in-laid gold in the surfaces, marble countertops, and most importantly, heated floors. Kido feels the familiar sensation of warm wood beneath her feet, and though it kills her to walk around the place with her shoes on, she can't risk leaving them at the front door like she usually would. Instead, she removes her shoes, and holds them with one hand. She motions at Mary to do the same, so they leave as little traces of themselves in this place as possible.
A short investigation into all the rooms reveals that no one is home, not even Kano. At this, Kido is somewhat disappointed. She had hoped for a chance to speak with him again, that doing so might shake loose some memories from his rattled head, but it looks like she won't have that opportunity right now. Instead, she decides to feel relieved that Kano's roommate also isn't here, because then they can avoid conflict like they planned.
After securing the apartment, Kido nods to Mary, who nods back enthusiastically.
Their operation is officially underway.
Time to search for answers.
