Ouma had never felt so thankful to feel so invisible. Towa City had been only a couple thousand strong compared to the millions of people that walked the streets of Osaka day and night. He detested pickpocketing from people just as desperate as he was, but he needed to eat and the shelters asked too many questions. Most days he was so focused on getting what he needed, he had little time to think of where he'd stay. The most he could have on his person was a backpack, anything more than that, and someone would filch it from wherever he tried to hide it. So when someone tried to pick his pocket, he was quick to grab them by the wrist and twist it just enough to keep them from bolting.

"I didn't-" They were younger than him, dressed almost entirely in white, with a black face mask.

"What's with the get up?" He let go of their hand when he felt something tug at his bag. There were two more behind him, also shocked he noticed them. The youngest started to weave through the crowds. "Oh you piece of- get back here!" He ran after them, always just a few feet behind. She zigged into a back alleyway and he ran after. It seemed like she was backed into a corner as she looked all over for someplace else to run. "Look, I'm sorry for shouting okay, but I need that money more than you."

"I highly doubt it." She ran up a wall and jumped, grabbing hold of a fire escape ladder out of his reach.

"Jesus, what are you, some kind of gymnast?"

"Yep!" She heaved herself up to the foot of the fire escape. "Best in the country, so yeah, I need the money if I want to save my neck." She climbed of the ladder and up out of sight. Ouma turned and kicked a glass bottle. He didn't care if she claimed to be an Ultimate, they got his food money. The glass shattered against the brick, catching the eye of a police officer. He cursed and ran before the cop could look at him too closely.

Over the next couple of days, he was able to track down where the kids in white and black would go after they stole something. There were at least twelve members that he could identify, despite being mostly disguised. All of them claimed to have talents of some kind. He had tried a number of times to join them, after all there were safety in numbers. No matter how he tried to explain he was a target for the Killing Game, they had trouble overlooking his lack of talent. The pure white uniforms clearly indicated they had a safe house they could go to and he envied it.

It was getting harder for Ouma to look inconspicuous when other kids his age would usually be in school. Within a couple of weeks, he got nabbed by a truant officer and carted off to the nearest school. He gave them a fake name, close enough to his own that he wouldn't forget it. Of course, there was no record of him attending and he was prepared to lie through his teeth, but the headmaster told the officer they had things handled. Ouma watched the police officer leave the office and felt like he could breathe for the first time.

"Students are provided two meals a day, a locker, and can use the gym showers before and after school." The headmaster said. "Are you a student at this school?"

"...aren't you supposed, like, try and call my parents or something?" Ouma asked.

"Your parents don't decide whether you play hookey or not, you do." He reached in and pulled out a packet of paperwork. "So, unless you plan on going on field trips or anything that involves money, no." He set the enrollment papers in front of Ouma. "You don't need an address, or anyone's permission. Just show up, get good grades and we'll call it even." He had to have known Ouma wasn't going to school anywhere. "We also have a computer lab." He'd seen nightclub owners with softer pitches than this, but the allure of some place safe to go was tempting.

"When do I have to be off campus?"

"We have a three-hour window open for club activities after school, most people go home after that." The headmaster said. Ouma took a pen and looked at the first page of the enrollment packet.

"And what do you get out of it?"

"Funding." The headmaster shrugged. "More students means more funding. Used to be you had to be the best in the prefecture, but with so many parents thinking home-schooling's safer grant requirements have loosened." An answer that callous had to be somewhat correct. He filled out the form with bogus answers. If what they really needed was test scores, it couldn't matter too much where they came from. "Excellent. If you follow Ms. Tomiko, she'll give you a few aptitude tests to place you in the correct classes." The last thing he wanted was to get stuck in a 'gifted' course.

"Normal classes are fine." Ouma collected his bag. He didn't care where they put him as long as it was heated and he could sleep.

"One list of 'normal' classes coming up." The headmaster said.

The school's open-door policy had given it quite the reputation. It became clear to Kokichi that a lot of the students here were teens left to be baby sat by disinterested or overwhelmed parents. All the historical books he read made public school sound like a staple part of growing up. Most of the kids here did the bare minimum at best or were disruptive at worst. Ouma sleeping through class and submitting homework on time made him a model student by comparison.

It also helped that the school library opened at five in the morning, giving him a place to hide from the cold other than grocery stores or clubs. The sense of routine helped ground him as he steadily gathered information about the area from eavesdropping on other students. Other kids had run ins with the group of masked teens, with similar losses. Though, their position as social pariahs had less to do with their crimes and more to do with their talents. Or at least, the fact they claimed to have talents at all.

"I'd be more impressed if they had the balls to show their face." A girl in pink said as she slammed her purse with 20 plastic charms onto the table. Gigi and her stupid friends would always come into the library about twenty minutes after it opened. So right before Ouma would fall in a solid sleep, they'd burst in cackling about something or the other. "Anyone can say they're so special, but if all you do is dick around in matching outfits who the fuck cares?"

"Speaking of matching." Rin said, and turned her purple charmed phone towards Gigi. "Look what Miu bought."

"Oh, hell no!" She dumped out her purse and immediately started to call. She drummed her manicured nails on the table top. "Hey gorg," she said in fake sing-song, "that's great. Because after the shit parade that walked across my feed, I'm going to need a few hits of 30%. What was the number one rule of friendship?" She sighed. "Other than keeping your lady boner away from my ex... That's right! And your signature color is orange so why'd you pick out a brand-new sweater you got looks exactly like the one I got for my birthday? It would be so embarrassing for you if someone thought you were copying me again, so I know you wouldn't try and wear that today." She paused. "Yeah, well the only reason bottles fit in there is you got nothing to fill it out with, so wear something else." She hung up the phone and groaned.

"What ex?" Haru asked.

"Oh, you know, anyone of interest." Gigi shrugged. "She hasn't figured it out yet, so shh." There'd be no getting rest once Miu came in. Ouma rolled over in his chair and tried to drown them out. He refreshed his phone screen. Again, the cast list showed Kyo as deceased. Someone had managed to kill him last night, but the students hadn't found his body yet. He kept checking to see when the trial would be announced.

"Speaking of interest! Guess who's got us into the Fog Height's party? I heard the championship tennis team is going to be there!" Rin said with a wink. The other two girls screamed with laughter.

"Oh my god Rin, you're the best!" Haru started to text Miu. "I swear I'm one good post away from cracking 10K, this might do it!"

He should have just skipped class that day, even if it was riskier to be out at this hour. It was impossible to focus on class work and he longed to curl up someplace dark where he could turn his brain off for five minutes. Instead, he sat in a florescent room while the teacher droned on about the industrial revolution. Sitting still was painful. A lecture that normally would be the background noise to a nap was now too intrusive to tune out fully. To keep himself from watching the clock, he busied himself writing everything he could remember about Kyo's death. If he searched key phrases from those, maybe he could find other people who were keeping tabs on the Killing Game the way he was. His firsts few attempts had gotten him in contact with an unsavory sort that left a bad taste in his mouth. People who were trying to figure out how to volunteer for the games. He needed proof of people other than Murano that had escaped, people with their sanity intact.

"Drink from the well warmed by my body heat!" Miu leaned back in her chair and hit Ouma's desk for the fifth time that period. "Your angel of generosity's got sweet stuff and cubes, if-" She held up a finger in Gigi's face, "you got my sweet stuff."

"Ugh, fine, I'm over Hori anyway." Gigi said and held out her hand. "Doesn't mean he's going to like you though."

"Everybody likes me." Miu stuck out her tongue, her chair hitting Ouma's desk again.

"Will you shut up!" Ouma snapped. "No one cares about your stupid party. There are more important things going on." They had been none stop all day and for once he was trying to focus on something. The two girls glared at him as someone snatched up his notebook from behind him.

"Like your Killing Game fanfic is so important, weirdo." Haru tossed the book to Gigi.

"Gross, I don't want this vore shit."

"If you're so high and mighty, how do you know what it is?" Miu snatched the book and threw it at Ouma. "Mind your own business. You'd get invited to more parties if you weren't so mean. Take a chill pill." The girls continued to laugh. He opened up his notebook to find a packet had been stuffed into it. He looked up just as everyone started filing out of the room. He could get into serious trouble for having this, but if he found the right person, he could get food money for a few weeks. It was worth the risk, and Ouma pocketed it.

It was fairly easy to track down the party they were going to with how much they wouldn't shut up about it. House parties were always loud and uncomfortable, but it was easy to blend into a crowd and take shelter for a night or two. He hopped the fence in the backyard, where people were drinking like it was the end of the world. It was easy to find someone who'd fork over $800 for the mystery shit Miu gave him. Plus, he was able to sneak over to the kitchen and stuff himself full of pizza before anyone else got to it. He was about to go for a fourth slice when he saw someone all in white slip up the stairs.

Immediately he ditched the free food to follow them as they went into the master bedroom. He steadied his nerves in case there was something illicit on the other side and opened the door. Nothing but good old fashioned thievery.

"How do I join?" Ouma asked. The person riffling through drawers startled and looked up. "Is there some kind of hazing ritual or test I could take?" They relaxed more, and looked him up and down.

"You need to stop talking about this kind of stuff out in the open." They said. "Being a nark isn't a talent."

"Do you see me calling for help?" Ouma got on his knees. "Please, I don't have anywhere to stay, I'll do anything."

"Anything hunh... I guess we could use a new Joker." He snapped the drawer shut. "I know! There's a hacking gun in the old Idabashi house on 5th. Bring it to Bassline tomorrow night and we'll talk." They had to go somewhere at night, he'd searched all over the city for months and this was the first time he'd spotted any of them. Ouma nodded.

"I can do that." Skipping school one day would mean the world if it earned him a real place to stay.

"We're there until 1 am, any later than that and I can't help you." They pocketed a variety of shit from a jewelry box and brushed past him. He followed shortly after. As soon as he got half way down the stairs, he froze. Someone threw a lamp against the wall he'd been walking towards.

"Where the fuck is my purse asshole?" Miu was shouting at the guy Ouma had sold to a few minutes ago. "That's my shit you're bragging about, so where is it?"

"Miu, you didn't bring your fucking purse." Haru was trying to restrain her friend. "You left it in my car." The three kept shouting, with Miu certain someone had stolen from her.

"I bought it from that guy." The guy pointed at Ouma just before he could sneak out of the room. "If anyone stole it, it was him." She turned to him with a wild look in her eye. Ouma panicked and pushed people out of the way to get out. She shouted all kinds of obscenities as Rin filmed the whole thing on her phone. The sooner he could get a place to stay, the sooner he'd be rid of all of them.

Ouma ditched school the next day. The Idabashi house was a dilapidated two-story traditional house that looked straight out of a black and white film. The yard was an overgrown jungle of regional plants and security cameras were mounted at every corner. He cased the building, looking for a way in. The windows could be broken in a pinch, but the less evidence he left behind, the better. The front step was badly chipped in the center, like it'd been battered with a jack hammer.

The security camera overhead chirped the minute he set foot on the mat. He froze as a blue light scanned him up and down. It chirped again and went dormant. He breathed a sigh of relief and laid a hand on the door. When nothing happened, he fished for his lockpick only for the door to slowly swing inward.

He took a few steps into the house and closed the door behind him. An overwhelming perfume of old tobacco and must filled the air. The hallway was lines with delivery boxes, open and abandoned. On a few different tables, were controllers and computer parts, none of which he recognized. Something was rotting in the kitchen sink. One cursory look told Ouma that would be the last place to check for a hacking gun.

There was a study on the second floor full of old books and photos. It looked like the kind of office they'd show in samurai movies, only everything in there was dated. The most recent set of almanacs was over a decade old. He figured the old man that used to live here must have passed away or was in poor enough health to let everything fall under a thick layer of dust.

He checked the first floor again, coming to a door he first thought went to a hall closet. Instead, it was a large lab of some kind. Two large monitors hung over a wide metal table. The circumference of the lab was lined with two metal shelves. One was a work space of some kind that could have tools plugged into the wall and sheltered more boxes of junk. The top shelf had various gadgets in glass cases. He climbed on top of the workspace, coming nose level to the top shelf. It was hard to see in the dark, but he didn't want to risk getting caught for turning on a light.

Instead he ran a hand along the shelf, squinting at the silhouettes in boxes. Most of them were the wrong size or shape. As soon as he came to one that seemed similar, he took out his phone. The light from his screen illuminated a megaphone-looking device.

"Please, no cellphones or flash photography in the demonstration room." A prerecorded message practically shouted. Ouma started and his phone landed face up on the floor. He quickly grabbed the glass case, unaware the bottom was not attached to the rest of the display case. His prize slipped off the shelf and shattered on the floor.

"SHIT!"

"Please, no cellphones or flash photography in the demonstration room." The message said again. Ouma shoved the megaphone in his backpack. The handle gave to easily and he could see the inner wiring. Not good, not good at all.

All around him red lights flashed. He was briefly relieved it wasn't the cops, but a home security system wasn't much better. He scrambled to his feet and ran out of the lab. First he tried to kitchen. The back door was locked with heavy bolts and metal plates in front of the windows. Those hadn't been there before. The security cameras were unable to focus, a small blessing considering the deafening alarm that rang through the halls.

The front door was similarly locked. He punched it and flinched when a light at the top of the stairs turned on. He slowly turned, blinded by the blue and red lights as a hunched silhouette with glowing eyes stared him down. Their arms and legs were trapped in some kind of tech, with a long trail of thick wires behind them. There was a hiss as the strange boots opened up at the foot of the stairs.

The homeowner stumbled on the first step. They put a hand on either side of the wall, releasing them from a set of heavy gauntlets and allowing them to rip off the rest of the cords tethering them to an unseen room upstairs. They limped down the stairs, pausing halfway to wave at the flashing red lights. The alarm paused and just as they were about to speak started to alarm again. They punched the wall with the side of their first and the alarm system flickered before going out.

"Idabashi?" Ouma asked.

The person coming towards him was slow, with powdered grey hair and old clothes. The glow he'd seen appeared to have been the reflection from thick, round glasses. Though they had an uncanny porcelain complexion, too unblemished to be an elderly person.

"Yes." He spoke in a stilted tone, the quality of his voice eerily familiar and yet hard to place.

"You don't look old enough to be the Ultimate Roboticist." No reaction from his unwilling host. "What are you his grandson or something?"

"...yes." They took forever to respond, even longer to think of what to say next. "He doesn't talk about me much." Ouma shifted uncomfortably, he couldn't tell if this person was going to call the cops or just kick him out. Either way, he needed to slip away with enough time to book it with the goods. "Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

Ouma barfed out a string of excuses so fast there wasn't enough time to question it. He claimed to be a relative, and suggested they go to the meeting place he'd agree to go to. If he could exchange the goods fast enough, maybe it wouldn't matter what happened next. Besides, anytime he mentioned going outside, the stranger's face twitched.

"What did you have in mind?" Idabashi said.

"There's this cool club everyone's been talking about lately." Well, everyone he knew at least. The kid was an obvious shut in, he'd be able to ditch the dweeb as soon as they got to Bassline. "It used to be a bunker during the height of the riots, but now it just blasts EDM. It's only a couple blocks from here. We could go and be back by midnight, easy." The silence was deafening as Idabashi sat there staring at Ouma's mask like something was written on it. He slowly nodded and then looked down at the ground floor just a step a way.

"I need help getting down." He said. His shoulders sagged, obviously disappointed even if his facial expression said nothing of the sort. "Bad knee."

"...Okay..." Ouma shifted. "...What exactly do you need me to do?" They blinked and looked up at him. What followed was an infuriating back and forth of Ouma trying to get direct commands out of the kid and being expected to know the house inside and out. It was like he'd never had a visitor before in his life. Which, given how poorly socialized he was, might be the truth.

On solid ground, Idabashi's grandson was much faster than Ouma had hoped. He was able to keep up with him as they made their way to the subway line. Instead of sitting where a wall of passengers could separate them, the kid insisted on standing as close to Ouma as possible. He had a death grip on the overhead bar as the subway roared forward to their destination. The light on the map dinged with each new stop.

"I've never been this far on my own." The kid said. He turned to Ouma, as if it was a miracle he was still alive.

"Uh, yeah... the first time can be kind of scary." Ouma said. He couldn't afford to feel bad for the kid. This just meant it'd be easier to shake him. Or it should have been, instead he had a silver haired duckling following him all the way to the club. He had the same overwhelming sense of wonder Ouma had felt following Murano about. Still blissfully unaware of how unfair everything could be. For goodness sakes, the kid was excited to see bushes in planters. "Have you never been outside?" The kid flinched, any trace of joy vanishing in an instant.

"...I have been to other buildings, but never 'outside'." He looked up at the sky. "I thought there'd be more stars."

"Light pollution will do that." Ouma saw the long line to the club snaking around the block. There was no guarantee they'd get in tonight with a line that long. Sometimes employees would leave the back door open on nice nights to slip out for easy smoke breaks. "Come on, I know people." Luck was on his side and they were able to sneak in. The powerful bass and strobe lights enough to overstimulate his guest long enough to slip into the crowd.

A whole group of the kids in white were sitting at a table in the back of the club. Ouma approached them and dumped the hacking gun on the table. They looked up at him in shock.

"It's broken." One of the older members said. "How do we know it's real?"

"You said get the hacking gun from the Idabashi house. You never said it had to work."

"I didn't say that." The ring leader said.

"Well one of you did." Ouma gestured to the dancing crowd. "I dragged his grandson all the way out here just to get it this far." Ouma glanced over his shoulder to see if he could point him out, only to watch as the idiot stumbled up to Miu. "Oh, that's not good." He shouldn't care, he should be worrying about his own hide right now. "The dumb-dumb talking to the disco ball. That's him. He doesn't know I stole it." The leader held up a hand as a different member inspected the handle.

"It does have the symbol they used in the 10s." The young girl said. "Even if it is fake, it's a stunning dupe."

"Look the guy said you needed a joker." Ouma sighed. The entire group lit up at the mention of the title.

"Alright," The leader nodded, "it's a deal. Give Clover your phone." A bookish young boy held out his hand. Ouma did so with some hesitation. "We don't meet up in the same place twice. Clover here's an expert hacker, he's given us a way to stay in contact without raising flags from recruiters. If you get into trouble, just give the chat a buzz and someone will lend a hand. Oh..." The leader leaned forward on the table. "We do require a small monthly fee. We've got a lot of mouths to feed and if one of us gets caught it helps to have a way to bail them out. You can do that, can't you?"

"How much?" Ouma shifted in his spot.

"Whatever you can afford." The leader shrugged. "But you can't blame us for being more concerned about members who help more, can you?" He got elbowed in the side by a girl with pigtails.

"Quit being greedy Dia," she shook her head, "most people pay about five hundred a month. If you can't afford it, you can make it up by doing grunt work like this." She pointed to the gun. "Don't worry about the next two months, getting this had to be dangerous. Most people don't make it past the yard." That was a steep fee for someone in his position.

"It's part of the process Jack," Dia said, "what's the fun of being an anarchist collective if you can't haze the new guy?" Clover handed him his phone back. "You remember what it was like."

"It was awful, being the next Joker is bad enough." Clover sent Ouma something through the chat. "From now on, you're Joker. We don't go by our real names to keep everyone safe, the rest of the rules are in the doc. Ace mentioned you need a place to stay?"

"Yes that would be-" Ouma glanced back at the crowd to see Miu leading Idabashi out into the alley. "Bad. Very bad. I'll talk to you guys later." Miu didn't know how to keep her mouth shut. If that kid said one word about him, she'd blow his cover and he'd have to cops on his ass. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he did feel bad he'd dragged the kid out this far to begin with. The least he could do was keep him safe. He pushed open the back door as a siren faded into the night.

Miu was lying still on the ground.

Her things were scattered in the street, some of it crushed by the wheels of a car. Idabashi's grandson stood motionless, watching as blood pooled underneath her.

"Miu!?" Ouma ran up to him. The kid's clothes were in disarray, his belt slightly unbuckled. "Hey." He didn't react when Ouma touched his shoulder. "Idabashi, snap out of it. What the fuck happened?" Idabashi walked forward and scooped Miu up off the ground effortlessly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He needed to call for help, or call 911. He couldn't just stand here while this shut in was operating through shock alone.

But he couldn't be here when the cops showed up. What if they recognized him? He could get carted back to Towa if the did a background check.

Idabashi numbly walked in the direction of the house with a singlemindedness that was truly frightening. For someone who'd never been outside, he seemed astutely aware that they were within walking distance, despite taking an hour-long subway ride to get here. It was late at night, too late for any sober person to catch sight of him as he marched wordlessly to the house. Fuck his safety, if he didn't do something now, Miu could die.

"Hello." He breathed a sigh of relief as someone at the station picked up. He gave them the address of the house. "Someone got hurt, really bad."

"Not again." The worker was typing on the keyboard. "We'll send someone over. Stay away from the property and we'll send help right away." Someone was coming, he just needed to stay calm and let Idabashi know to leave her be. He had been too distracted to keep up and by the time he got to the house, Idabashi had taken Miu inside.

Inside.

"...why should I stay off the property?" Ouma asked.

"Do you want to get hurt too?" The worker sounded alarmed. "I know the scene may appear clear, but that madman put all kinds of security devices around the house. Now, are you able to see where the person was when they got hurt?" He'd come in through the front door earlier that day.

"The front porch." He said.

"Alright." The worker said. "Help is on the way." Ouma hung up the phone. He sat outside to wait for the ambulance. It was the longest fifteen minutes of his life. When help arrived, they were in bullet proof vests and other protective equipment. "Someone took her inside." Ouma said when they could see no one lying outside.

"Ha ha kid, very funny." An officer rolled his eyes. "You know crank calling 911 is a crime right?"

"But he did take her inside!" Ouma gestured to the house. "There was blood everywhere and these arms-" People were packing up their equipment and canceled their backup over the radio. "She needs help." Another officer came from the back and reported they didn't see anything in the back yard.

"You call again, and I won't be so nice." The lead officer said. "There's other people we could be helping right now. Phoney calls put them in more danger." They drove off despite his protests. He walked back up the overgrown path, and looked at the battered front step with horror. The security camera scanned him again, chirped and went dead. He stepped onto the porch and nothing happened. The door opened as it had before. For some reason, this thing was letting him in.

He saw a light in the downstairs lab and ran to it. The door wasn't opening right away. Through a small window he could see Idabashi working on something. Once Ouma found how the door opened he saw Idabashi covered in blood.

"She doesn't need an ambulance." He said to Ouma. "She needs a new part." Long robotic armatures were moving things around the lab as if possessed. Kibo sat at the head of a metal table with Miu laying on it in front of him. Gold wires had been fed through an incision in the back of her head.

"Your- All of this is really here." Ouma said. It was like a scene out of a horror movie. No one else was brave enough to enter the house. Every moment that ticked by, Miu fought for her life. She dragged herself kicking and screaming out of a coma, only to almost injure everyone in the room. Idabashi was strangely cold and commanding through all of it as Miu slipped back out of consciousness. "...why don't we ask the old man for help?"

"He's busy right now." This kid, who claimed to be the great professor's grandson, stared Ouma down. He wouldn't have gone outside if Ouma hadn't come here. Miu wouldn't be injured if he hadn't come here. He needed her to be okay, otherwise... This was all his fault.

"I can wait." Ouma said. "I'm not leaving Miu alone here." Even if they weren't friends, it was the least Ouma could do.