Chapter Eight: Dead Is Worse

2015 – Spring

Cont.

The address was in the same area where she'd seen him after her date, the night he'd been reminiscing about killing an entire village or maybe about his life before because he'd had a lighter, and at some point, she realized that was about Ieri. He wasn't in the restaurant that matched the address, and she jogged around, looking for him in the crowd. Why were there so many people? It was a weekday; shouldn't they all be at home? Who went out on a Wednesday night?

It shouldn't be so hard to find one man. Maybe his hair wasn't down, she always saw it in that same half-up half-down style, but he used to wear it up, didn't he? It was up in that picture, maybe she should circle back. Maybe he'd gone the other way.

There.

She saw his profile, and even from across the street she knew that was him, his jaw muscles clenched and his straight nose. "Getou-san!" she yelled despite the ache in her lungs that wouldn't seem to go away and the rawness in her throat. From the crying or the heavy breathing, she wasn't sure.

Getou turned his head when he heard his name, his nose wrinkled in disgust and a scowl on his face. She jogged across the street as soon as it was clear, and watched his expression shift into the amused look she had become familiar with. The way his eyes changed from anger to glittering amusement, his lips turning up into that little half smile that said he was laughing at her. Always at her and never with her because her life didn't matter to him, and she could never let herself forget that. She might die, he might kill her and that was fine, that was fine. If he helped Sumiko, he could do whatever he liked.

He nodded his head in her direction, "Matsuda-san."

She couldn't breathe, her lungs were burning, and she really should stop smoking, because she could not breathe. How could she ask him anything if she couldn't even get the words out? Natsumi leaned forward, bracing herself on her knees as she gasped for hair. "I need your help."

"Oh?"

She took as deep a breath as her damaged lungs would allow. "My niece," she gasped for another breath, "you have to help her. Please."

His head was tilted, in the way she had seen Mimiko do, and no they weren't related but Mimiko was a lot like the man that raised her. Mimiko gave her the address and Natsumi wasn't in the habit of hoping for impossible things, but she had to, had to hope. For Sumiko.

"How… What could you need my help with?" His brow was furrowed, and it was probably the last time he would look at her like that, without the rage and the hate. The last time he would look at her like he thought she was some funny little thing come to bother him. Sometimes she thought he liked when she bothered him.

"She's…" it would change after this, whatever he said or did, it would change. "She's a sorcerer, and there's this cursed spirit, and she's dying. She's dying and she needs your help."

His eyes widened, his lips parted but no sound escaped, and she didn't wait for him to catch up. She didn't have time for it. "I know. I know about… about all of it. About you and Mimiko and Nanako and 112 people and Jujutsu High and – "

There it was. The ice in his eyes and the blank expression. The feeling of being plunged into ice water and it was a cursed spirit or cursed energy, or whatever. She knew that now, that's why it was so cold in the hospital and that's what it was that night. He'd been about to kill her with a cursed spirit or energy or whatever it was that he could do. He was going to kill her now and it was stupid to think a crowd would stop him because he killed 112 people (minus 2 twin girls) in one night plus 136 other people (plus 1 pedophile) through the years so what did a crowd ever matter to him?

"Her teacher," she continued because she wasn't dead yet, not yet, and neither was Sumiko, not yet, "is Gojou Satoru. He knew you. He knew you, and I think… I think he's looking for you, to ask you to help her. Just... just help her, you have to, you have to."

Getou took a step forward, and she could feel something at her back. Not a thing but a feeling, the feeling of being pressed in, of pressure and ice and she knew it wasn't a person, that in this crowd of people there was suddenly an odd little bubble. A void where it was cold, and the air smelled of something rotten. Her stomach turned and there was no one else but her and the worst curse user alive. He was close, too close and his breath was on her face and his face was twisted with rage.

"Please," she begged, "save her."

"Why?" his lips barely moved, the muscles in his neck taut.

She was going to die. "She's a sorcerer. Her mom, her mom was a sorcerer, and she's a sorcerer and she matters. I'm not a shaman or a sorcerer or whatever you want to call it and I don't matter," she didn't matter before, and she mattered even less now. "She matters and she's a good kid," the tears were falling down her face and she was afraid, afraid he would kill her and not save Sumiko. At least if he did, at least if he killed her, she wouldn't have to watch her niece die.

At least it would all be over.

"She wants to help people and do good things and save people and she's smart and funny and kind. She's good and she doesn't deserve to die like this, not ever, but not like this. And you… you asked me, you asked me what I would do if someone hurt her and… and I can't do anything, this is all I can do, is beg you to save her. This is it. This is what I can do for her," she barreled through because as long as she was talking, she was still alive. "Gojou says she's like how you used to be. He said that you were good and you were very close. You were friends and –"

It was the wrong thing to say.

His hand was around her throat, squeezing and she fought every instinct not to move because when a man choked a woman and she struggled, they hurt her more. That was something she learned years ago. "Do not," he said the words slow, deliberate, "talk to me about Satoru."

She could breathe, barely, but she could breathe. There was no pain, it was just pressure and he wasn't hurting her, not yet. He wasn't killing her, he was scaring her, or maybe he was getting ready to kill her. The thing at her back was still pressing, and it sent chills across her skin. Each breath she took had the scent of rotting meat and sulfur; it was all she could do not to gag.

Getou let her go, looking at his own hand in disgust, for touching her she was sure, because it wasn't violence that repulsed him. A person did not kill 237 people being horrified by violence.

"Please," she begged, "I don't matter, but she does. There's so… there's so few of you." If begging would not work then maybe this would. Maybe it would make him kill her faster. "There's not enough of you and can you really afford to lose one more? Isn't that your whole thing? You want to save the sorcerers from dying for all the weak people who aren't worth it. So go save her."

"You," he said through gritted teeth, "are a manipulative woman."

She nodded, "I know. I know, but what would you do?"

"I wouldn't humiliate myself by begging someone to do me favors."

"I'm not asking for me," she whispered, "I wouldn't ask for me. I came here knowing you would probably kill me, but I had to ask. I had to try. For Sumiko. She deserves better than me… but I'm all she has."

His eyes were narrowed, his lips pressed into a firm line. "How did you find me?"

"Mimiko sent me the address of the restaurant." She hated involving her but if it saved Sumiko then she didn't care.

"She wouldn't do that."

Natsumi dug in her pocket, not looking away from his eyes, not even when he glanced down at her hand. Her fingers felt numb from the cold, from the pocket of ice he'd created, the pocket that everyone seemed to walk around and ignore. She pulled the text open clumsily and turned the phone toward him.

"I told her. I told her about my niece, and she said you would kill me, and you would say no but… I had to ask. I had to try. This… this is the only thing I can do, because if… if he couldn't find you and no one else could help then… I had to. What choice did I have?"

He took the phone from her hand, scrolling through it, searching for whatever it was that would be the answer he needed. His eyes flicked to her, and he pulled his own phone out of his pocket. The bag of takeout that she hadn't noticed before slid to rest in the crook of his elbow while he compared something between their phones. He looked so normal, too normal with a bag of takeout wearing a t-shirt on a Wednesday night. "This is Satoru's number."

"What? I… probably?"

He glared at her. "It wasn't a question." He lifted his phone to his ear, was he calling someone? They stood like that for a moment, and the ice started to dissipate. Getou looked her in the eyes, dropped her phone on the ground, and stepped on it. The sound of crunching glass as he destroyed her phone echoed around her. Her only lifeline to Gojou. Gone. "Did you drive here?"

Her jaw dropped and the pressure at her back was gone, the putrid smell leaving the air. The pocket was gone, and the crowd was back filling the void. It almost suffocating in the sudden unwelcome heat of it. Natsumi pulled out her keys, what was he going to do next? Steal her car? She stared at him blankly, barely reacting when he snatched the keys from her hand.

When she didn't move, he gestured in the direction she'd come from, "Well? I don't know where you parked."

Natsumi turned and led him to her car, uncomfortable with him at her back but left with very little choice. She had asked for his help, and he seemed to be giving it she just… she had not expected him to actually help, or if he did she hadn't expected to live long enough to see it. She was in such a daze she was surprised she could even find the car. He slid into the driver's seat as if he belonged there. As if it was his car and she was his unwelcome guest, and she couldn't stop staring at him.

For the first time, it had nothing to do with how attractive she found him.

Getou slid the key in the ignition with ease and turned his gaze on her again. His eyes were intense, they always were, and it was ice laced with curiosity and she didn't know what that meant. "Are you going to keep gawking, or are you going to tell me where she is? You did come all this way for a reason, didn't you?"

She mumbled the name of the hospital, too shocked to feel any relief. The chance of her walking away from any of this alive was slim. She couldn't call Gojou, couldn't even drive away and she doubted it would do any good anyway. For the rest of the car ride, Natsumi could only hope that whatever happened, that Sumiko would be okay. That was all that mattered.

What if it didn't work? What if he couldn't help her? What if Gojou was wrong and this wouldn't work and then Sumiko died anyways? What if Gojou found another solution and this was all for nothing? What if it did work? How would she explain this? Gojou would know, he wasn't stupid and he would know. He would know she hadn't said anything and and and –

"You have never been this quiet," Getou mused from the opposite side of the elevator.

"I'm thinking. Which requires a lot of focus for me, being exceptionally stupid and all."

Getou laughed as the elevator opened, letting her walk through first so he could follow her. He'd almost seem like a gentleman if you didn't look too closely. They were steps away from the door when a nurse flagged her down.

"Oh! Matsuda-san," the nurse offered a sweet smile. "Your husband is on the phone, he said he can't reach you."

"Husband?" her lips felt numb. Gojou. "He's not my husband."

The woman frowned, "Oh. He said he was the girl's uncle, so I just assumed… brother then?" Natsumi could see the wheels turning in her head, wondering if Gojou was single. A wildly inappropriate thing to wonder with Sumiko dying in the next room. The woman passed Natsumi the phone, the wire stretching across the counter.

She waited until the nurse stepped away to put the phone to her ear. "What is it?"

"Why aren't you picking up? Your phone is going straight to voicemail – "

Natsumi rubbed her face, the lie coming from her lips too easily. "I was smoking in the parking lot."

"So, you had to turn off your phone for that?"

"No, I… I broke it."

"Are you serious?"

"I was pissed okay, and I can't…. I can't watch her slip away," she wasn't lying anymore. She didn't need to lie because she couldn't. She wouldn't. If Sumiko didn't love through this night then neither would she. "I don't know what I'm doing, Gojou. Why did I let her do this?"

A pause. "You're doing the right thing, and I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but this will keep her safe in the long term."

Natsumi laughed bitterly, tears blurring her vision, "Oh, she's so fucking safe lying in a fucking hospital bed. Have you even…" She glanced at Getou; he was watching her, waiting to see what she said. She wiped her face with her sleeve again but it was a wasted effort, the tears didn't stop coming. "Did you… find anyone that could help?"

"I've left messages for everyone I can think of, but I'm with the Kamo's now. They're pissed and I owe them a favor now but they're looking. I'll find something, I just need more time."

"Okay," she whispered.

"Natsumi?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't do anything stupid."

"I'll try." She was pretty sure she already had done something stupid. The line disconnected and set the handset on the counter and wiped her face with her sleeve again.

Natsumi turned to head towards Sumiko's room but the nurse was back. Standing there talking to Getou, looking him and down, a pretty smile on her face. "Are you Matsuda-san's husband?"

"I'm an old friend of the family," he spoke sweetly, the too-wide fake smile on his face.

The nurse blushed, "Oh, I see." The woman started batting her eyelashes, the way women usually did at Gojou, and Natsumi felt sick. Her niece was in the other room dying, this was a hospital and this woman was flirting?

Natsumi ignored the pair and went into Sumiko's room, it was colder than before, and she swore she could see her breath. Sumiko was paler, and she knew what she had said to Gojou had been right. They weren't lucky and Sumiko was lucky if she made it another few hours, let alone all night. She touched her cheek, the girl felt like ice. Too cold. Cold like death. Like Ichiro and Aiko and her parents and – what were the nurses doing? Had they checked on her once? Were they all too busy flirting with men visiting family? Getou wasn't really visiting family, but the nurse didn't fucking know that.

She turned around, she stuck her head in the hallway, "Hey!"

The nurse turned her gaze from Getou to Natsumi, her lips pursed in disapproval, "Matsuda-san it's late, you should really lower your voice."

Natsumi's hands balled into fists, "Yeah? Maybe instead of flirting with men visiting sick family you should fucking pay attention to your patients. My niece is fucking freezing to – She's freezing, and she needs a blanket, and I shouldn't have to tell you that."

The woman flushed in embarrassment, "That's not – I was just – "

"I don't care what you think you're doing. What you should be doing is getting my niece a blanket. It's your job." Natsumi disappeared back into the room, ignoring the amused look that was on Getou's face as he came in behind her.

"You're very rude."

"Yeah, well, there are worse things to be," Natsumi mumbled. She sat in the chair that Gojou had forced her into earlier and held Sumiko's hand between both of hers, trying again to rub some warmth into them. "She shouldn't be flirting like that, it's fucking weird. I'm pretty sure she would have done the same thing to Gojou if she didn't think… Hell, maybe she did, I wasn't… I wasn't really paying attention earlier," she mumbled. "I thought… I thought he was lying, that he was trying to prove a point to his students."

"That does sound like something he would do."

"Yeah," she said. "So… are you going to…?"

"I suppose." He held out his hand and just… stood here, waiting. He wasn't doing anything he was just… standing there doing nothing, but Sumiko's hand felt just a bit warmer. Natsumi looked at her face, and her cheeks were just a bit pinker, her breathing a little less shallow. Natsumi looked back at him, a little round ball in his hand that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Was that… it?"

"What did you expect?"

"I… I don't know really," she looked back at Sumiko, and she could feel the cold air fading away. "I guess I thought it would be… more dramatic."

"That's because you can't see it."

She rubbed Sumiko's hand, slowly becoming warmer and warmer and she didn't think it would be this fast. Natsumi leaned her head forward, clutching Sumiko's hand tightly, as if she would slip away and it felt like she would slip away at any moment. Like everyone else she'd ever loved, as small a list as it was.

"So," he questioned, "how do you plan on explaining this to Satoru?"

"I… I have no idea," she reached for her phone, out of habit. It was somewhere in the street, destroyed beyond recognition. "I didn't… I didn't figure that part out. I figured if you said no or if you killed me, I wouldn't have to figure that part out."

"This was a poor plan, Matsuda."

"I'm not known for my excellent decision-making skills," she told him. It didn't matter what he said now, didn't matter if he killed her. It was fine. Sumiko was okay. She was okay.

"Well, that's becoming abundantly clear."

"Will she really be okay?"

Getou looked away from her to the little round ball in his hand. It looked like it was made of murky shadows teeming under it's surface, barely contained within itself. "She'll be fine," his words were too soft, and it didn't fit the rest of him from this night.

He tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and swallowed the dark sphere. It was small but it was far too large to fit, and she could see it move down his throat. She watched his expression shift through various levels of disgust. "That can't possibly taste good."

"It doesn't," he informed her.

"Is that what you meant, when you said you've tasted worse?"

His lip twitched, "You remember that?"

She nodded, "I thought you were making a dick joke."

Getou's lips spread into that half smile, "You've spent too much time with Satoru."

"More than I'd like," she agreed.

Getou tilted his head, "How do you know each other?"

Natsumi spoke slowly, remembering the way his hand had wrapped around her throat before. "He's raising Sumiko's cousin, on her mom's side so he would check in with her sometimes. I saw him talking to her outside of her school and accused him being a pervert. To be fair I saw a twenty-something outside a middle school where kids had been disappearing, it was a valid assumption no matter what that asshole says.

"I tried to fight him, which he laughed at me like the dickhead he is. Then Sumiko finally told me about all of this," she gestured around at him and Sumiko's still body. The color was returning, and her breathing was normal but she still wasn't moving, wasn't waking up. "He told me he'd keep her safe, that he wouldn't let Zen'ins take her if I let him train her and let her go to Jujutsu High. I didn't want to, it was too dangerous but… she really wanted to, wanted to be like her mom and I couldn't say no."

Getou looked at Sumiko, and she could understand the shock. She didn't look anything like them. "She's… a Zen'in?"

"No," Natsumi smiled, "she's a Matsuda. She can use jujutsu and she has her mom's smile, and the way Aiko talked with her hands but she looks just like my brother. Except for her ears, those are my dad's ears and she has my mom's chin. Though… so did Ichiro and so do I but the rest… the rest is all my brother." Her voice shook and the smile faded, "Fuck, she almost died."

She dug her palms into her eyes, the sobs wracking her shoulders. "She almost died, she almost died," she muttered to herself, through the tears. "I can't let her do this. She's just a kid, she can't… oh fuck."

"She will be fine Matsuda."

"For now," she choked out, her voice was rough and her whole body ached. From the running and the crying and the stress. She could feel it now, because she was so afraid for the future but there was that sliver of relief for the present. "Until the next time. Or the time after, or the time after. It's not like it would be the first time a student died. Not the first time one of Gojou's students died even. He said once that… that he wasn't afraid she would die. He was afraid what would happen when she saw how bad it was out there," she waved at the windows, to make her point. "He said that she was too idealistic, too moral and… He said he was afraid who she would turn into."

When she looked at him again, he was watching Sumiko with a faraway look on his face. Part of her doubted he was even listening to her, either because she knew now and he didn't feel the need to pretend or if he was in his own world… she wasn't sure.

"I told him that nothing was worse than her dying, and this was before I knew about you. He told me about curse users but not… not you, not really. Not with any specifics, but then… after that night last summer, I went home and I saw that file and… I was horrified, obviously, because what the actual fuck… but there was… Mimiko and Nanako, their names come up," his eyes snapped to her now," whenever you look it up. So I just… I don't know.

"It's why I never said anything," she continued rambling, ignoring the look in his eyes because she didn't know what it meant, and didn't want to. If he was going to kill her, just let it be done with. Let it be over. "I thought… maybe you did what you did for whatever crazy reason but… you walked away with two twin girls and you didn't have to. You didn't have to raise them but you did. They're… not even a little bit afraid of you. Mimiko talks about you all the time. She loves you, and I… I don't know. You killed that guy, I mean we can talk about that now right?"

The look on his face said no they could not talk about it and she should stop talking.

"At Christmas, I thought about calling Gojou. I told myself, if I saw you again I would call Gojou. I would do it, it was the right thing to do. I was trying to do it, to do something. Because… because 112 is such a big number, but it wasn't. It was 110 and 2 little girls with nowhere to go and… I didn't want to take you from them. I didn't think they deserved that… I don't know why I'm saying this. Other than it's been in my head for so long and I can't… You're going to kill me anyways so I may as well just – "

"I'm not going to kill you," he spoke so quickly his lips moved in a blur. "It's tempting sometimes because you are extremely irritating. But Mimiko would be upset," he rushed through the end, as if he didn't want to admit how much influence she had over him.

"She'd probably forgive you though."

His head tilted, "She would, but I don't want to put her in the position to forgive me. Not when I'm capable of restraint." It felt like a dig at her because she had been a blubbering mess the whole night. Restraint was never a quality she'd had. "Matsuda… do you want me to kill you?"

"I… I don't want you to kill me but if I died…" she rubbed her eyes, the tears had finally stopped. Her face was puffy and her chest was heavy and it was all just so hard, wasn't it? "I was going to kill myself. I had a whole plan. I wrote letters, I called into work. I was ready," she whispered, and nobody knew about it, not Sumiko, not Gojou, no one. She had never told anyone. "But, then I had Sumiko so… I couldn't. I thought maybe I was doing the right thing, raising her, letting her go to Jujutsu High. It's what she wanted and I thought… I don't know why I thought I could do this. Any of this. I don't know what the right thing is. I've never done the right thing," she gestured at Getou. "Clearly, because I never called him when I should have and now, I lied to him about you being here and I have no idea what I'm going to say."

"Matsuda."

"Yeah," she croaked.

"You talk too much."

Natsumi almost smiled, because she was sure he'd said it before. She leaned forward onto the bed, using her folded arms as a pillow. She looked towards Sumiko, watching her breathe and her lips move as she mumbled in her sleep. "Just add it to the list." The list of her terrible qualities, every vague insult and terrible personality trait added to that never-ending list.

"It's becoming a very long list, Matsuda."

"Yeah… Getou-san?"

"Matsuda-san," he was mocking her for keeping the honorific after he'd long dropped it. She didn't know what that meant, if it was disrespect or familiarity.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome," he sounded too soft again and she was so grateful she couldn't see him anymore. She didn't know what any of this night meant or if it meant anything at all.

"Getou-san… I'd rather her be like you than dead." Sumiko moved her hand by her face in her sleep and turned slightly to find a better position. Natsumi reached out her hand, still resting her head on her other arm, and held onto Sumiko's hand tightly. "Anything is better than dead, don't you think?"

There was no answer, and she didn't turn to look, not sure if he left or was done talking to the woman so far beneath him. The woman he was only letting her live because his surrogate daughter would be upset, and he didn't want to disappoint her. It was the smallest reason to let her live, because really Mimiko would forgive him. What was Natsumi? Just a blip in their lives, and maybe this random set of coincidences was over. Maybe the universe forced them to cross paths so that he would be inclined to save Sumiko.

It was bullshit, but it was comforting to believe while she fell asleep.

Suguru stayed in that room far longer than he should have, far longer than he wanted to (he didn't want to, he didn't know why he did it but he didn't want to). The woman fell asleep and snored, loudly because even in her sleep she did not shut up. Obnoxious and irritating and loud.

How many times had he seen her since she knew? She gave no indication, none that he could read. She knew Satoru. He had wanted to believe she was lying, but when he left the text thread she had with Mimiko (there were so many, he didn't realize they talked so much) he saw… He saw a picture of Satoru, saved lovingly under 'Sailor Fuckwad'. There were pictures and texts, videos that Satoru sent her, and terrible jokes (the only kind Satoru had, really). Her screaming at him in all caps calling him obscenities. Voice messages he was sure were more of the same. Discussing pickup schedules and visits. Dinner plans and taking the kids to movies. Pictures from Christmas and New Years. Pictures of them with three children with Satoru's arm slung around her.

They were a family, whether she realized it or not, she had become Satoru's family.

Matsuda knew who he was and said nothing, if she was telling the truth. Satoru wouldn't have done anything even if she had, because they were the strongest. They were the only ones strong enough to kill each other and they were both incapable of doing it. Not yet. It didn't matter that she didn't know that. Or maybe it shouldn't matter and it did. It was… confusing him and he wanted to kill her for confusing him. Matsuda was an odd monkey and that was… that was entertaining, and he could allow that but there were too many questions now.

She knew the bare minimum of what he'd done (because he'd never counted the deaths but 112 seemed like a small number), but the bare minimum should still have been too much. She still talked to Mimiko, like nothing, like she didn't know and if Matsuda knew about him then she had to know about the twins. She was stupid but she had to know that the twins were curse users too. Or maybe she really did believe that he had just saved two orphans out of the goodness of his heart? She was stupid, wasn't she? (No, he didn't really think she was.)

Matsuda wanted to die and chose to live for her niece. She wanted to die, and really, it might actually be better for this young girl if she didn't have Matsuda around. It didn't matter that Matsuda fell apart when her niece was dying. It didn't matter why she hadn't said anything to Satoru. It didn't matter that she had done it for the girls. It didn't matter that this monkey had stayed alive for her niece when the twins' own mother wouldn't. It didn't matter that she did all this for them when he knew she didn't even want children, that she'd brought it up in one of the talks they should never have had. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. He should kill her because she was right, she did not matter and none of the things she had done or said tonight mattered. Nothing he learned tonight mattered. He should kill her, despite what he told her.

How was he supposed to kill her when she meant so much to Satoru?

Suguru left when he saw the sky start to lighten through the window and Matsuda's niece's eyes started to flutter and he knew she was moments from waking up. He set Matsuda's car keys on a side table and left, ignoring the nurse trying to flag him down because had no use for that monkey or her flirting. He took the stairs, not wanting to risk being trapped in that elevator with a monkey (it wasn't worth mentioning that it hadn't bothered him to be trapped in that elevator with Matsuda).

When he was outside, when he could breathe in air that was not tainted with the smell of monkeys, he pulled out his phone. He'd felt it buzzing in his pocket, but he'd ignored it in favor of… of what exactly? Listening to Matsuda ramble incessantly and then snore for a few hours?

There were several missed calls and another voicemail from Satoru, and instead of listening to it, Suguru called him.

"You fucking asshole."

Suguru flinched at the volume. "Now, Satoru, don't be mad. I just did you a favor." Because really, hadn't he done it for him?

"You got my message?"

"Hours ago."

A pause. "Did you help her?"

"Yes, I did and she's fine."

"Was there someone else there?"

"Oh, you mean your wife?"

He could hear Satoru choking, "My what? Do you mean Natsumi-chan?"

Suguru was ashamed to admit he resented the honorific. "There was a woman, the nurses called her your wife. She was asleep, I didn't get to ask the monkey's name. Should I go back? I could wake her and find out. Honestly, I'm a little hurt I wasn't at the wedding."

"She's not my wife," he sounded irritated. "The kid is my student and she's her aunt, I had to call her."

Satoru was lying, but then, so was Suguru. Satoru lying about how much Matsuda meant to him (because he'd gone and gotten himself a new family to replace the hole that Suguru had left). Suguru lying about knowing her name (and somehow calling her a monkey out loud felt like a lie too).

"Did you kill her?" he sounded tense, afraid.

Would that be the line? If he had decided to kill her would that be Satoru's line? "No, I didn't kill her."

"Don't lie to me. I'll be there in a few minutes and if she's dead – "

"Satoru, would I lie to you?" Yes, that might be the line. He never thought the line would be a single person. He never thought about the possibility of there being multiple lines.

"I don't know what you would do anymore." There it was, the betrayal. The hurt. He wanted to be more offended by it. Suguru had never known it had started with 112 people and it seemed like such a small number to him. But not to Satoru.

He wondered if Matsuda knew his parents were dead.

"I wouldn't lie about it if I killed her. I would just kill her and be done with it." He was caught, between what he thought he should want to do and what he actually wanted. He should want to kill her for being a (confusing) monkey. He didn't want to kill her, for Satoru. "There's no meaning in her death, not now. She's raising a sorcerer… that's something." It wasn't why he didn't kill her (and it wasn't just about Satoru).

"So did your parents." The accusation, biting and meant to inflict pain. Satoru didn't believe him, because how could Suguru spare Matsuda and kill his own parents?

He didn't, but telling Satoru that wouldn't help him. The truth of his parents death would only give him hope, and hope was something none of them should have.

"Yes, and we see where it got them," the lie came easily. He didn't like lying to Satoru and now he was doing it twice in one night. Lying to his friend.

"I hate you." But then. So was Satoru.

"You're supposed to say 'thank you', Satoru. When will you have better manners?"

"When you come back, asshole."

"Satoru," he said softly. "I've gotten your other messages and I have never called you. Do you know why I called you tonight?"

A pause. "To be a dick."

('You're a dick, anyone ever tell you that?')

"Be more original, Satoru.'

('A few times.')

A sigh. "So then why did you call?"

"Every time you've ever called me, you have asked for something I can't give you." He couldn't come back, there was nothing for him on that path, nothing but Satoru. Satoru was almost worth it. If the girls didn't exist. If he had never seen the horror of it, then maybe. Maybe he could have turned back. He would have still snapped, still broken into pieces, but maybe he would have let Satoru put him back together. "This is the first time," he continued, "I could do what you asked of me. This is the only thing I could give you, so I did. Don't… read into it. Nothing has changed."

"You could come back, you just won't."

"This is why I don't call," Suguru said. "This is why I don't answer because this just hurts us both." He paused and waited for Satoru to say… something because maybe he would say something that would change it. Something that would make it better. Something that would give him enough reason to go back.

"I'll be there in five minutes. Don't be there." A pause. "Don't make me kill you, Suguru."

It wasn't a threat. It was a plea. The same plea from over a year ago. The message was clear. 'If I see you, I have to kill you. Don't let me see you.'

"Goodbye, Satoru."

Suguru hung up, slipping the phone into his pocket, and walked through the hospital parking lot. He passed where he had parked Matsuda's car, the takeout long forgotten in the backseat.

Would he see Matsuda again?