Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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“… This is Skytree…?”

“No, idiot. That’s the Tokyo Tower.”

A bitter, early-spring chill threatens to pierce the clothes of huddled masses. The only pair standing still on the bustling sidewalks have their eyes wide open, necks craned back as if all the neon lights might vanish in the time it took to blink. Their lights bounce off buildings taller than the skyline, the cold air refracting a harsh gray rather than blue. He forgets how clean the city is every time.

Red bangs drape to one side as curious, copper eyes look up. His breath leaves his body the same way it would every other day.

"...  It is?"

Shouyou Hinata weighed a heavily conflicted reputation for himself, personality wedged between humility and wanting to be the most impressive in the room. To have his attention meant you had to have him hooked line and sinker in the first sentence- otherwise, he wouldn't spare the attention. So, planted beneath one of Japan’s most distinguished attractions, head all the way back to his shoulders, he comes to a prompt conclusion that…

“-Bro, boooring.” Just a big ass building. Not even in the top five big ass buildings he's seen list.

Maybe he just needs to see the tower at night, when Tokyo’s all lit up to hell and the city was enough to kill a photosensitive epileptic. Coming from a bumbling town that looked more like a villagers' settlement than a place to live always made coming to the biggest city in the world an absolute thrill. But, for whatever reason, his first impression of the Tokyo Tower… he isn’t all that impressed. I mean, maybe a little- but on the first day here? With that long of a line? And knowing the damn burgers would cost, like, the same as a Kahlua mudslide...? Like a good one…?

"-I didn't come here for second place, I wanted the real tallest tower..."

Perhaps it’s because Hinata is a whiner, when it's not what he wants. Sure, sometimes he takes the time to single out the little things; grass between sidewalks, the sound of cicadas at night- they were truly life's finest pleasures. But when he found little interest, he couldn't be bothered to count grains of sand in a sea of yawn and snooze. He's the antithesis of a nitpicker- he's a bitcher and moaner, if you want a card to the name. Whatever words came out his mouth were strung tightly around how much enjoyment he could wring out of an experience, and as he’s decided in a thorough ten seconds:

This experience is meh. Where is McDonalds?

“You are such a whiner, dude.”

The guy next to him scrunches under the wind like a peasant facing the gust of a thousand winds. Bleached blond hair peaks through the hood of a red jacket- the one who actually had intelligent reasons for disliking things, other than just "nah." But damn if he cared for his passions; damn if he cared for anything at all.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just some tall, flashy rip off of the Eiffel Tower. There are tall, flashy buildings all around us...”

Despite constant complaint of overcrowding over the phone, the man next to him seems utterly unfazed by all the movement that swarms them. Those lidded brown eyes looked nothing astray from their usual. “Told you you would complain about sightseeing…”

“Oh, good grief. Here comes doctor philosophy with his degree in macaroni art telling me I’m a simpleton.”

"Huh???”

“Kenma, argue with me more, right now,” Hinata demands. “Why are you just letting me complain about your hometown…?”

“'Cause I told you. You'd call everything that didn't require a waiver to sign boring until day three, Shou. Only time I’ve ever seen you walk out of somewhere with no complaints was that freaky amusement park with the giant rollercoasters, and they were all named some shit like the bowel movement.”

The tension between them was falsified under the context of knowing each other better than anyone else. Their playful dynamic seemed eternal, slipping into habits that reminded them of being a child the moment the two were in the same space as each other. Kenma's plaque as "best friend" has been hung on Hinata's wall since a fateful day in highschool- when his pointer found the sophomore he'd met twenty minutes ago and proclaimed it. He hasn't been quiet about it since. An otherwise unlikely bond separated by mindsets, personality, and who ordered the food when they got into venue lines.

But, life after highschool marched on- this is the first time Hinata's seen Kenma in months. He couldn't believe he'd scraped together enough money for this in such a short amount of time- deals on hotels flew by by the hour in Tokyo, it was like lining up for concert tickets.

A lazy whipping up of his phone takes an atrociously poor photo of the tower with the sole purpose of texting it to Natsu: ik you got fomo so bad rn. you wanna spend time outside sooo bad, before thumbing down on random emojis and only deleting the ones with hearts. 

“So…” Kenma’s blatantly unenthusiastic voice makes Hinata wilt somewhere inside, “-I'm assuming you want to do something else?"

“I'm not going to the snorefests until I can at least get pictures of all three of us in them. That'd make it actually worth the pennies..."

"Are you texting Natsu right now?"

"Ugh- yes. I can't believe she whined for months to convince me to let her go, just to stay in the suite the first time we leave! You'd think she was your sister with that attitude."

“I mean, I still got four days of nothing,” Kenma says with a nod, “-I still have no idea what's going on at my campus."

"And you're sure that has nothing to do with Spring break in a month? You don't think it's early...?"

"Not this early, for sure. It's probably some teachers strike, again. There's never not someone complaining about the atrocious hours here..."

"Well, whatever- hurray for 40-hour work weeks, it got me here sooner! Speaking of which-" Hinata swats at Kenma's shoulder, getting him to jostle like he weighed as much as paper. “-Can you at least look a little bit excited? Like- at all??”

Kenma just shrugs. “I am excited?”

And in it came, the line that divided the two of them.

The two begin hiking off in the opposite direction of the Tokyo Tower as Hinata explodes. “You’re doing that thing again where you tell me you’re excited and then stare off into the distance like a sergeant on the field,” Hinata says dramatically, throwing his arms out a bit but not so wide as to hit someone, “-I held off on a new car for this, how are you showing nothing at all…? Cause I know you're not annoyed-!"

The best way Hinata ever got through to Kenma was telling him he "would be the worst travel companion character ever." How the guy could live the way he does- Hinata knew he couldn’t. Hinata still brings up the fast-food barbecue sauce packets that he'd stuffed into the glovebox of his car- every one of them being packets he had to turn the car around for because Kenma wouldn't ask when he was shorted. He walked a fine line between social awkwardness, sheer laziness, and several undiagnosed mental disorders. It seemed that no matter how much they grew, together, that some things just didn't change.

“You need to learn to take things slow, dude. I'm not listening to the guy who doesn't know how to savor anything instead of wolfing it down...”

“Oh, what wise words, doctor philosophy- ever considered that’s exactly what I’m doing but actually making it fun by not being a party-pooper? If anything, I’m proud of you for actually following through on my efforts to come out here. I know you’ve got a strict routine of farting in your bed and talking to the same three people every day...”

“Not sure how I’m the party-pooper when you’re the one turning us around...”

“You’re in a bad mood!”

“I am not. I’m just conserving energy so I’m not tired at eight pm like you’re going to be. These are important life lessons I’m teaching you, Shouyou; your self-maintenance sucks.”

“I don’t want life lessons from someone who avoids day-to-day interactions. Or someone who actually got offers to UTokyo because you’re so smart, yet still come close to flunking out because you’d rather have a Nintendo in one hand and your cock in the other.”

“Exactly. ‘S what I’ve been doing aaall my life. I know what my future looks like, and it's bright, Shou. You’re almost twenty-two years old and you break free from your mama’s basement once a year just to get sent back like a double jeopardy...”

Despite the blatant slander, their words aren’t actually harsh- it’s a means of teasing. Through a long-established dynamic, there was a deep respect towards not actually trying to change anything in one other- they could only banter about it. And maybe wish upon a star, sometimes.

“Ugh, you know there's nothing to do in Miyagi for the next 30 kilos- not taking advice from someone who gets to live here and is still further down on the social-reject scale than me. You know what my advice to you is, freakazoid? Getting game that isn't digital, that’s what- and eating more than a meal and three energy drinks a day...”

“Oooh, now there's a lifestyle I don't want- consumed by shallow, nothing-in-common friendships and hookup culture like you.” Kenma shoots back, and Hinata’s eyes widen. But, his offense is ingenuine with his dramatic placement his hand on his chest and mocking shock; “okay, don’t start. You know I only cherry-pick the best and that’s why I go through so many short-terms…”

“You use tinder and expect relationships with people you only hook up with because they agreed to have sex with you in the Denny’s parking lot.”

“I’m not arguing about the Denny’s parking lot with you again, you just don’t know cause you’ve never been there,” Hinata is dead serious as he points in his face, “-You’re just jealous I haven't taken you to a romancing spot...”

“Your self-maintanance sucks. You just be doing things.”

He resonates with the truth, yet refuses to apply it. The passage of time was a rope that would someday strangle Hinata for all the times he's thrashed in its grip- he was old enough to admit he never stopped climbing, and didn't think he ever would. Boredom was always twisted in his guts with a brutal dissatisfaction towards life; the moment Kenma moved for university three years ago was the moment he started looking everywhere for something that would push him forwards in life. A good job, a girl he saw a future with- he tried dreaming big. But highschool and his failures had sucked all the passion out of him. 

Many people have come and gone since, and there's been a lot more of life he's experienced. But whenever he thinks back to it, the words are always true- he's not far from the start. He's just aimlessly throwing darts, hoping something eventually sticks. 

Hinata jabs an elbow. “-Uh huh, whatever. Let’s get something to eat, I’m starving- what was your favorite place to go to here, as a kid?”

“… McDonalds?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about McDonalds, but no- I think I’m feeling something sweeter, like breakfast food. I need to fuck up a doriyaki at one pm.”

”… So, Denny’s?”

”Kenma, you take me to Denny’s and that sex life crisis of yours is going to be solved. I'm talking coffee shop, not there.”

“It’s wherever you want. I know what I won’t eat, you will...”

“Yeah, I’m bulking.”

“On doriyaki?” Kenma blinks. “You’re gonna be bulking in the lower gut, and that’s it...”

“And you're gonna be bulking in the eye when I slug it so hard it swells up like a balloon, asshole.”

There’s not a person on the planet Hinata holds more gratitude for. The one constant in his fast-paced life.

His heart swells even just walking the pavement, with him. Their understanding of each other crossed the line of friends a long, long time ago- yet, it wasn’t romantic, either. They’d gotten experimental, before, as they grew and explored themselves- Hinata was old enough to admit he was the problem. In all his friendships, greed bled from Hinata's mouth whenever it wasn't lined with the cotton of satisfaction- in relationships, Hinata was eager to please and be pleased harder. Any avoidance of emotion would send him spiraling like he felt them, too- and Hinata didn't run from things he didn't like. When insecurity rose, Hinata would stare back at it without mercy. He found it hard to watch his partner struggle with the self-dissatisfaction he personally couldn't see- he struggled to understand the words "I can't" as anything more than a flaw that needed torn out. To not share the same philosophy as Hinata either meant the extinction of your mindset, or the extinction of your relationship. Kenma had chosen the latter- much for the best.

As Kenma bunches up yet again against the wind, the slight gnawing Hinata has become familiar with chews at the hollow pit in his stomach. Every dumb picture of them as teenagers, Hinata can remember how they really felt during those times- if they were fighting, if no contact happened just days later...

"-Are you seriously just taking a picture on the street? You post the roots of my hair and I'm killing you, asshole."

He tries to make up for all the faces that'd been hidden by smiles, now. All he ever thinks about is their long talks- he aches when Kenma isn’t at his side.

"-There?”

“Nah. More authentic.” His third denial already.

“-Are you going to pick somewhere, or do we need to ask magic 8ball...?”

“I’m pickyyy. We still have a budget, you know...”

“Business and Tokyo don’t exactly equal cheap, hate to break it to you,” mutters Kenma, hunching even further into a himself. "-Plus, it’s cold.”

“Oh, poor thing, depraved of air conditioning for oh so long...” Hinata settles the debate in his head. “Fine, let’s go there.”

His pointer lands on a little coffee shop wedged unevenly between buildings that swamped it in size, a humble little red banner reading something in English- Hinata didn't bother to decipher it, he knew he'd butcher it. Looked cute, looked busy- what didn’t?

More enticed by the indoors than the food, Kenma begins weaving through the busy streets, and Hinata chuckles as he trails him.

Rich and sweet scents follow the most pleasant rush of warm air- with the furnace kicked onto high, the civilian chatter was just as warm and charming. His thought echo him as Kenma says with the tiniest smile, “damn, that smells good.” Of course the first time he's seen him smile is over some damn air conditioning. The joke lines up on his lips as the fly of his zipper goes down- 

"Oh, shit," Hinata says, keeping his jacket on his shoulders, "-ugh, I shouldn't take this off..."

"And who's fault is that?" Kenma asks, brow raised, "-you said being sexy was more important than getting kicked out of everywhere. Now look at you."

"Oh, shut up- acting like you don't have ink in your skin, too."

Kenma shows off his left wrist, covered in a small amount of medical tape. "I convinced you to let our tattoos ne small enough to wrap up with a bandage- and then not even six months later, you get some American shit on your shoulder that's gonna keep you out of public baths the rest of your life."

"I passed out three times." Hinata fills with pride as he scans the menu, "-do I get a quad shot? Cause I think that’s what I need right now...”

“Oh my god, I forgot you put milk in your half sugar, half liquid-espresso-whatever the hell." mutters Kenma, pulling out his wallet and checking the loose change at least seven paces back in line, “-ask for the worst you can think of so I can take a picture of your order and put it on every social media.” His hands dig into his pockets, looking for his phone.

“I can't lie, Kenma, I might just want a medium roast, today. With a lot of cream, of course. I’m a creamer type guy, you know this.”

“… Can you not talk this loud with families in earshot?”

“What, was hot and bothered at Denny’s not enough…?”

“I’m going to start acting like I don’t know you if you keep it up.”

Phone in hand, Kenma’s rather quick to swipe out of his camera and begin complaining. “What the hell… no signal…?” His face seems to contort and Hinata frowns, confused as well. “-In the middle of Minato?”

“Damn- even all the nearby guest WiFis have nothing,” mumbles Kenma, completely lost without being on his phone for longer than five minutes, “-powers' going out, I'm calling it. This'll would be the third time this month its gone out somewhere for, like, twenty minutes..."

"Really?"

"-Yeah. There’s just been some weird, power outage shit going on. Like, airports even in the greater Tokyo area haven't sent out flights since Friday, or whatever. Something something TEPCO's been having arguments with the frequency converter stations, something something overseas affairs. It’s just been one vague political issue after the next.”

“Ugh. There's always some old guy with a thumb up his ass trying to make sure people suffer for a thousand more yen.” Hinata pulls out his own phone, finding beyond the lockscreen that he, too, had no service. "-How will I see Natsu getting fomo from the Tokyo tower, now…?"

Without warning, his body gets startled a step or two back when a sudden body slams into his arm, entirely accidental. He's there before he even knows he is. On instinct, Hinata’s hand lunges out, snagging a woman who had crashed into him by the arm, saving her from a rough descent. Drinks splatter to the floor, where shoes shy away to avoid its wrath.

“Oh-!” She panics in his grip, apron lined with a busy day's work. Her hair falls from a ponytail in small strands- overworked, as most are.“-I’m so, so sorry about that…!”

It’s a waitress, who’s already spewing apologies, Hinata lets go when she bows slightly, “it’s- you’re fine- no worries!"

After a few more excessive apologies, she crouches to clean what she'd spilled. Courteously, Hinata cuts to the front of the line, where he grabs a wad of napkins and rolls up his sleeves to help. "No, no- it's so okay! You don't have to help, really, it was me!" She frets.

"Nah. Just what you do," replies Hinata, tackling her second spill before she could start. "-My friends holding my place in line, anyway."

“I… I like your tattoo…”

Panicked as he looks to his shoulder, he finds the jacket still zipped tight- she meant the one on his arm. He'd forgot. Now that compliment wasn’t common- but the people of Tokyo understood the idea of choosing to be a black sheep rather than staying in flocks of the countryside

“Thanks,” he smiles, pointing a thumb at Kenma, “-my friend and I- we match, got 'em on my 21st...”

The redhead scratches at it at the mentioning- the long, black feather tattoo inked into the underside of his forearm, spanning just a few inches between his wrist and up the forearm. Even though it's not so big, the gaudy placement was disrespectful not to cover, to most. Not to him.

“Really? Are- are you not from Tokyo?"

“Miyagi, born and raised. I'm just stupid.”

"-Wooow! No, no- that's brave...!"

Immersion in the conversation is ripped from his hands when the lights inside the place flicker out, espresso machines going still. Now lit up only by the sun filtering through windows, it gets noticeably more dreary as Hinata watches the lights in the street dim, as well. Groans fill the cafe until hushed whispers erupt again, Hinata turning back to Kenma on the floor; “ohhh, you called it!"

“This is ridiculous.” Kenma is clearly, “-this place is so big, there’s got to be backup generators everywhere…”

And he’s right, a handful of buildings still shine through its silence- but it’s not enough to make them any less annoyed. As far as the eye could see, buildings seemed to shudder to sleep- LEDs to a halt, screens black and dim. People are beginning to wander outside to witness the phenomenon, their curiosity only continuing to expand.

Hinata chuckles as he stands back up, pointing a thumb to Kenma. “No internet for five minutes scares him...”

The barista laughs casually, thanking him as he came back to Kenma's side. "-See that, Kenma? That's called scoring, something you learn when you develop social skills. She's gonna spend the next month thinking about the baddie with the tattie for sure…"

But Kenma is clearly too distraught to listen, and starts talking before Hinata can open his unimpressed mouth. “-I just think it’s weird that the service went out a minute or two before the power did. Now, we can’t even check our phones to see when the lights will be back up again…”

“Might be the weather...?”

But Kenma doesn’t seem so convinced, waddling away with his phone in his hand. “… This is weird, Shou.”

“Weird…?” Hinata repeats, not nearly as serious, “-what are you freaking out about? It’s a power outage in the biggest city in the world- you said the lights will probably be back on in minutes.”

“I know, I just… I’m getting this weird gut feeling." Shuffling feet make him follow Kenma out of the line, losing their spot as they go.

 “-Dude, where are you going! Good god, you need to lay off the horror games- you're starting to scare me-”

And that’s when the floor practically ripples beneath his feet as a cluster of tremors hit their eardrums, something exploding. Some things exploding. Hands lurch to grab fabric other in immediate shock, clinging to Kenma and momentarily joining the screams of terror that wailed from the people outside.

For a heartstopping few seconds, there's a distinct lack of context as everyone stands with their mouths hung open. Hinata finds his eyes devouring the scene behind the glass as pedestrians suddenly twist into a single, moving current- hurriedly trying to swim upstream. He watches cars begin flying by past the speed limit- and suddenly, others are gathering at the windows, too. Complete silence becomes utter chaos in the room.

“What was that?!”

“-A bomb! It was a bomb!!” It echoes around the room.

A bomb! A bomb! A bomb!

It circulates until it doesn't sound like a real word, and Hinata hears his pulse plenty clearer than them.

A sharp whistling sound sends the outside world into chaos- the sound of heavy engines above their head provokes the unsynchronized screams into one big orchestra.  It's so loud his hands cover their ears as they ring. "-Jets! Jets!"

Jets?

The third wave of chaos hits as the cafe descends from still figures to every body in motion. People begin pushing into and around each other like ragdolls- some bolt outside, some gun it to the bathrooms. But Hinata finds himself practically melted into the floor, only proved false when people slam into him and bowl him a couple of feet with Kenma in his arms. Japan wasn't at war. It couldn't have been...

“-The Tokyo Tower!” Someone is screaming, just above the panic, “-the Tokyo Tower is on fire! It’s falling!!”

"-The tower is gone! The tower is gone! They blew up the tower!”

Who was they…?

The ground tremors again in the same sequence. It sounds like a firework show. This time, the screams outside the walls grow impossibly loud, and the dim light of the room grows a bright orange for a few seconds as explosions plume from somewhere nearby. Hinata is screaming in discomfort along with everyone else, the vibration in his body being almost too much to bear. People begin vomiting, their release muted beneath the same roar that was causing it. He has his eyes closed as shoes rapidly begin backing off from the glass/

The flyby of a jet whistles over the crowd, getting closer. Hinata takes about two urgent steps forward before his pupils shrink in realization. In this moment, Kenma's tight grip on him suddenly has him spun to the floor, shoving Hinata down in urgency. And suddenly, shoes are pressed into his body mercilessly- he stares at the ceiling in panic as people trampling over his body.

But it doesn't last long- there’s a sudden, horrible flash of white that makes everyone disappear once his eyes adjust, again. Hinata doesn’t hear the rest of the explosion after its peak- in the next moment, he's staring at wood with his vision doubled and green. His ears continue to ring even after a black wave slips him in and out, rinsing and repeating the cycles.

Signals of white hot pain light up all over his body before any thoughts can make it through Hinata's swollen head. Inside his body, he's merely the observer- under no control as the corners of his vision swell and fade out over and over. He can't tell what he's hurting from. Where it is. He's gasping for air, but he can't hear it. It was like he had venom all throughout his body- a serpent coiled around his nerves. His muscles had turned to stone, and his blood was trying to wedge itself through unforgiving, tight cracks of skin. Groans of pain rattle out of Hinata's mouth before he even finds voice; it only gets more intense the more he stirs into consciousness. The vignette of black was beginning to fade for good- and suddenly, what he couldn't see out of the corner of his eyes…  

He's bleeding, other people are bleeding. His dilated pupils begin to shrink in focus for the first time- indistinguishable lights and darks begin to turn into shapes and figures. Orange and red. He spends each second wondering how much the pain was going to grow, and his body answers that a constant yes.

A feeble hand touches the ground, a drastically more intense pain shooting through his palms. A constricted grunt replaces a scream, finding glass shards and wooden splinters wedged shallowly into his palms. He plucks them out one by one, leaving behind droplets of his own blood on the wood-they coated his entire body. As for once, the jacket he wore in public made him lucky, shielding him from having a lot more to worry about. He thinks he might drop again from how quickly his heart is beating. He'd seen his conscious pitch in and out- it couldn't have gone on for too many seconds. Behind his ears and beneath his palms, people screamed. Maybe that didn’t say much.

If it were up to him, Hinata would have collapsed, by now. Given up. But he wasn't alone, and his decisions would still leave a heavy price on someone else.

Kenma.

Hinata's vision is still spinning green and leaking light.

Where was Kenma…?

A familiar chemical dump bursts like a dam through Hinata’s brain, throwing himself to his knees with a strength he absolutely didn't have left. The moment he's next to him there, Hinata’s senses recoil, reminding him of his state with a piercing throb of the temple. Hinata audibly cries out against it, face contorting in pain. But it doesn’t take him long to regain himself, eyes blinking rapidly in a strained attempt to focus.

Where is he? Hinata’s mind would break through its barrier to make sure he raked about it. -Where is…

Fallen arms and a red jacket snag Hinata's sights- so quickly that nothing else even concerns him. He scans over other bodies, but only chooses to see blonde hair stained the same deep red. Kenma's body remained still on the floor. Not stiff, but limp, contorted into a small ball like fetus in the womb. His face was hidden by his wet hair. Dread comes to swallow Hinata whole, an realization that made his heart stop before picking up a hundred times faster.

His throat is surprisingly wet. “Kenma…”

Terror turns his gears so fast, his pupils blow out like they're upping a throttle. “-Kenma!” Hinata screams, just loud enough to be heard above that dull ring that muffled everything.

He scrambles over broken chairs and limbs on his hands and knees, collapsing twice and still throwing himself down over the top of him. Hinata rolls Kenma onto his back and into his lap, where Kenma’s head lolls.

Immediately, Hinata sees it.

Kenma's sleep was tranquil, a limp face deceitfully peaceful as his forehead swelled up and oozed blood. There was so much that it dripped from his bangs, unable to absorb anymore of it, plastered to his scalp… Hinata’s fingers begin twitching as his eyes rapidly flit all along Kenma’s lifeless weight, fear building in his lungs and squeezing his throat shut. “No,” he cries weakly. "-No, no…"

Head flinging down to his chest, Hinata is desperately strains to hear something; a heartbeat, a breath- anything. But if there was divinity to thank for their safety, he must've had other plans, that day. Relief hits Hinata so hard it runs his blood cold for a few seconds- the rise and fall of a chest.

He stays there for a moment longer, arms wrapped around Kenma's him, desperate to verify Kenma's heart still beating beneath his bones. It did. “Oh my god,” Hinata whispers, a frenzied contortion of the face bringing tears to his eyes immediately. 

Kenma was alive. There had never been a day in his life where Hinata thought he’d be having to check for that. “-Oh my god…"

With no forewarning, Hinata gets his emotions brazenly pulled out from under him when the ground rattles again- along with the earsplitting flyby of the jets. He instinctively flings himself over the top of Kenma as interior decor falls and shatters around him. The jets are dropping bombs. Dropping more bombs. More than just a terrorist strike, a full-scale attack.

An act of war- a crime, at that.

But Hinata has no time to comb his hands through anything political to point at- regardless of Kenma being alive, he was completely unconscious on the floor. Natsu- oh, Natsu. They need to get out.

And as Hinata's head turns, he makes eye contact with the waitress he’d been chatting with just seconds ago on the floor...

Laying on her stomach, a chunk of her skull was cracked open like an egg- brains spilling out where her cheekbones once hollowed. Her blood seemed to laugh at her skull for thinking it could protect her, sputtering fountains as it fell to the floor. Her muscles still twitching, a fully opening and closing hand despite her face being completely still. With almost nothing in his stomach, Hinata throws up right then and there, trying not to let his straining heart fly out of his chest. Twice now, he retches, this time without even looking. His lips dripping with thick, foul-tasting saliva.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god.

He could smell it, he could feel it, and most certainly could he see it. The room smelled damp and rusty- and even more disturbingly, faintly sweet.

“… It's okay,” Hinata whispers; he's not sure if he's talking to Kenma, or himself. His voice thick as he swallows down the urge to gag again, “it's okay. You’re okay.”

Rising from a painful squat, he quickly finds himself wincing as Kenma's weight in his arms pressed down on scattered shards that split his skin on contact- he tries not to notice through bared teeth. With knees that buckle and a body that trembles, the moment Hinata rises with Kenma in his arms, vertigo accompanies the churning of his stomach. For once, Hinata is grateful for Kenma’s awful eating habits; his light weight may have just saved his life, considering how weak and nauseated Hinata was in the moment. 

The windows are shattered all over the floor, and there’s objects and piles of concrete in places so high they can’t be reached. Wooden things sizzling from friction; a cracked, abandoned iPhone. He could hear a few souls groaning here and there, as well, but stopping to check on them doesn’t even cross his mind. His throat can't be convinced to not squeeze, again, having nothing left but acid that never made it past the uvula. It leaves a scorching sensation in his throat as it passes back down.

Kenma needed help. It's all that keeps him on his feet. Kenma needs help.

But keeping a level head was difficult when the shoes beneath you sucked and pulled each time they left the ground. Bolts from his feet all the way up to his head leave nausea running rampant in Hinata's nerves- to let himself think meant to remember this moment, forever. Ringing in his ears became his brain's only vice as it tried drowning things out- but the moment was already in his veins. He knew subconsciously what he was trampling over. These people were dead. His body internalizes it like a thumbprint on his DNA. These people were dead, and dead they would stay.

-Granted, that’s what anyone would think, though.

Shoulder held down, Hinata shoves himself and Kenma out into the open- the air had become thich with spoils. Scouting for anyone to help, all he sees is people who reflect himself.

Every movement is a mere flicker in Hinata's eyes, phantom flames that trail every bright light and neon color. If he's breathing, he can't feel it. All of Tokyo was alive in one great panic- a deafening roar that shook through his skin and down into his bones. The tallest infrastructure, built to absorb earthquakes, sway just inches from side to side- as if to mock the nausea that was melting Hinata's vision together. Figures stripped of their detail are piling into buildings, mercilessly trampling others as they go. A woman wails, desperately trying to stop out her jacket on fire. A man carries his own severed arm, restlessly pacing back and forth in front of a shop. A child trying to pull her mother, who was on her knees screaming on a crosswalk over nothing but a pile of soggy flesh, while others shoved past. 

A deep crater ripped across the entirety of the streets, less than a few lengths away. The smell almost knocks him over- a chemical potency, reeking even from the small flames catching the corners of buildings and pavement. It spits thick flames that feel as if they're aimed right at him- like serpents warning not to tread.

By the looks of it, safe isn’t anywhere, really.

Kenma clutched to his chest, Hinata collapses. He rolls onto Kenma after placing him gently on the sidewalk, so that he can hoist his body onto his back before taking off again. Fallen buildings have begun to billow smoke, obscuring a sky painted gray.

Hinata never got to see the inside of the Tokyo Tower. Or Skytree, for that matter.

Two months.

It’s been almost two months; fifty six days, exactly, since the fall in Tokyo, Japan. Their vibrant, lustrous home cast into darkness.

But from where a man sits, he sees plenty of lights inside apartment homes. He hears the passing conversation of mothers pull their dry clothes down for the evening, the squeak of a wheelchair as an elderly man is pushed by his son. A bonfire crackles and sends his friends' shadows against the tall, brick wall he rested against. They roasted full cans of meat on sticks- the smell was always, somehow, worse than the last time.

"-I did not say that-!"

"-Yes, you did, like thirty minutes ago-!"

A small, gated community just on the edge of Shinjuku was home to what most would consider quite a few- to Tokyo, it was the smallest grain of sand to their former population. Their survival was not through the fittest, but good fortune. Sheer luck that a brick wall had towered a length above their heads- an elegant metal crest on its top that suddenly looked to be the finest barbed wire. Standing tall that day, the wall had proven itself to its people- playing the role of God, the savior as evil crawled where flames licked.

With his back rest against it, Tanaka Ryuunosuke is one of its many disciples. He rests next to the fortified, metal gates, where those he's learned to call friends set up tents and whatever else they thought would keep them occupied. For they were the protectors of this place, laughable weapons at their feet, spending all their time watching both inside and out to ensure nothing gets in.

Arrays of tightly-knit apartment buildings had been repurposed with new people and resources, SOS-es written in red on their roofs. Desperation had tainted the air for a long time, as they clung to hope that help would arrive- now, it was a somber overlay. As if a blanket of snow had melted, but the grass underneath was still shriveled and dead from its bitterness. It's hard to recognize- they're the fortunate ones in this gated prison. It’s too early to recognize their privilege.

It was approaching May. No signs of rescue, no signs of anyone else in Tokyo being alive. Well, one survivor had shown up this last month. Just one.

“Told you, whole half an hour late. Twenty bucks from both of you, now.”

Most of them have only known eachother these last two months. However, there was an inexplicably quick bond when it came to the hardship of wanting a really yummy burger and not being able to have one. Aaand being a finger off from death- that too. There’s a much shorter man outstretching his like a beggar in Tanaka's line of sight, an irritated gleam in his eyes that the others understood quite well. “We all agreed with you, Noya-! It's not a bet when we’re all on the same side...!”

“Nuh-uh, Ennoshita said forty minutes and you agreed. I said thirty. He’s not here.”

“Hold on- would we not compare the times and pick whoever’s closest?”

“Not how it works. My time was first, so I get the money first. Duh.”

“Dude, no way-!”

“-We should make him pay us since he’s the one who’s late!”

“Nishinoyaaa." Tanaka brays from the ground; he's a lot more familiar, running his hands through greasy hair, Tanaka's first thought is how he hasn't seen it down like that since high school. "-If you don’t stop stressing over that guy, your blonde strip’s gonna turn gray...”

A man named Ennoshita sits on an unfinished perch they’d made to see above the gates- it looked like it would collapse at any given moment. “You would know something about that, wouldn't you?”

“Hey, don’t diss the gray, man!" His voice carries far past the walls, this time. "-It’s sexy and you know it!”

“Uh- to people three generations above ours, maybe.”

Not too hot, not too cold, it's the almost the perfect start to an evening's worth of bullshitting around. He finally stands- the night only would've been flawless if he was shaky over a couple of twisted teas. Nishinoya cackles loudly at the retort. “-Why is Ryuu catching strays?! Roast the dickhead that puts us all in a piss-poor mood! Not me, I’m lovely-!”

“-No, I'm serious! The last time we bad mouthed that dude, we started shit for being so mad-"

An obnoxious look gets sent his way. "We-?"

"-My bad, I started shit because we'd already made ourselves upset! I don't want that; I just want him here for ten seconds before he's gone again."

“Ugh, brother, when did you start growing uppp- I don't like ittt.” Nishinoya dramatically goes limp on his feet, “-I need twenty dollars from that son of a bitch, right now...!”

“Can anyone tell me what the hell you think twenty dollars gonna get you?”

“Uh- hopefully a colonoscopy so we can get that big fucking stick out of his ass.”

"Noya!"

"-Oh, come on! Both you and I already know how the conversation is gonna blow over when he gets back- and I’m pissed. Haven’t even heard his response and I’m pissed. Pissed just thinking about it...”

“'Bout pissed your pants when he squared up on you, though.”

“Ennoshita, go to hell! Stop butting in!!”

The lone survivor who had appeared at their doors last week had been their first and only in many weeks- kept his cards close to his chest about where he’d come from, claiming it “didn’t matter.” Despite being a man of few words, his sharp tongue was recognized by all.

A slight shift in power swept over the disciples the moment he stepped through the brick heaven's gate. Tanaka almost felt it in his very presence, that day- like his commanding posture held a king's cloak draped behind his straight back and narrow eyes.

“Do you not know there’s a hospital about a mile South-East from here?”

Gossip from Nishinoya told him a tiny question in their “infirmary” was all he’d needed to suddenly act like he had a foot in the place. By the next day, his first full day being here, the newcomer's hands would be filled with a bag full of antibiotics and medical supplies. And he’d do it again, and again, wringing the hospital dry and also proving his point over, and over, and over.

“You're in perfect condition! Plenty of you!!” His teeth are bared- as if his life were on the line with a stranger’s. “-It's spineless! What are you standing around for, letting others suffer while we're in the prime of our lives...?!”

For something so easy for him to say, he sure hasn’t improved the place’s quality of life since then.

“Open the gate-!”

Alert spreads through the crowd as a voice behind the walls, bouncing off the buildings. Though seeing through their protector wall was impossible, Tanaka knows who it is- the very voice in his head gets mimicked.

“Shit.” Ennoshita's voice picks up from his spot at sentry, “he’s being chased-! Tanaka, Noya, get it open, now!!”

Exasperated, Tanaka mutters. “Always fucking something…”

How many days in a row was he going to find one of those things that could keep on his heels…?

“Open the damn gate-!”

Restlessness kicks in, and Tanaka’s not even the one in pursuit. Hastily, Nishinoya picks the lock and Tanaka heaves with all his might- enough for a human-sized gap in their wall. Tanaka doesn’t even have time to let out a breath before a body comes flying through, letting out a half-grunt, half- scream before hitting the ground. He’s already scrambling onto all-fours as Tanaka looks down at him, “get it closed!”

“Oh shit-!”

Nishinoya screams, taking a flying few steps back as a flailing arm pierces the gap at the last second, bars rattling aggressively against Tanaka’s hands. It sends unnerving vibrations through his wrists as Tanaka puts his entire weight into his arms in terror, listening to piercing screams far too close to the side of his head. The arm big and muscular- no wonder he was going so fast. “-Noya, get an axe!” He cries, “-get something from the tents-!”

Noya darts off, but another is quicker.

With the lashing of a foot, Tanaka hears a crack so wet he nearly loses his grip and his lunch. The king always makes his presence well known. A horrible, human shriek comes from behind- the arm that grabbed at them now shattered at the elbow, dangling by mere tendrils of muscle and skin. Hands just as strong wrap around the limp arm, entirely different amount of blood in their veins. With a foot on the wall, skin sounds like tearing elastic as the entire arm rips right off. The snap of the gate is heard all the way down the street as the thing slips from its metal grasp. Civilians have gathered with their hands over their mouths- women and men of young and old, watching in fear, a dog barks. From the runner’s hands, the severed arm oozes something a little less than blackish-red blood, trickling from the joints that had thrashed just moments earlier- everyone is heaving to catch their breath.

“… Goddamn…”

Relief washes over him as the lock snaps over the gate’s door, coughing. The rotting arm slips from exhausted fingers and onto the ground with a dull thud. “… Man, lurker ‘bout gave you a run for your money…!”

Tanaka’s lips curl into a smirk. “Welcome back, Kageyama.”

The lurker spits and hisses in protest.

Kageyama ignores his jaunt, slamming a broad fist on the gate that startles the lurker into silence for a second or two while leaning his head back towards the setting sun. Ennoshita stares down at the two with a guilty look; “shit, man. Sorry for not shooting, I didn’t-“

“-Didn't wanna bring in anymore.” Kageyama interrupts breathlessly with that low voice of his, then wipes the bits of flesh off his fingers on a white shirt. He doesn’t seem worried about preserving his shirt’s state at all- blood, sweat, and grime already caked it stiff. More of a napkin at this point. “-I would’ve been ticked if you shot for one lurker...”

The name Kageyama fell out of the people’s mouths at a regular- not because he was popular, but because of both the work and the mouth that he ran.

“-This place has the least amount of them I've ever seen. You can’t lose it. You won’t find anywhere else, not in Shinjuku.”

Kageyama went to work the same way he'd shown up- alone. Maps filled the outer pockets of his in his bag, notes taped to them as he tried to rewrite tourist guides and roadmaps into viable sources of information. If they needed anything: where to find something, where the lurkers were- Kageyama would know where to send them it, because everything in the next handful of miles was already under his attentive eye.

Admirable dedication to his work combined with the fact that talking to him made most people rather shit in their hands and clap, Kageyama was indisputably the most valuable and insufferable person in the whole community. There was something undeniably incredible about him, something that made him appear as almost a machine. Whether it be ignorance, cockiness, or something even worse with an even bigger word, Tanaka didn’t know. It was just always stuck on his face whenever he turned to Tanaka or the boys, and that was enough to dig under his skin.

“Heya, Kageyama…!”

From behind them, Nishinoya reappears, carrying an axe over his shoulders- guess he’d pieced it together by the arm lying limp at the door. “-You left four and a half hours ago, man, what was the holdup…?”

Uh oh. Tanaka braces for the tension but doesn't try to stop it. Kageyama touches at his bangs, avoiding eye contact- quite a regular thing. “… I was surveying again,” he answers flatly.

“Yeah, okay; less surveying, more telling us where stuff is, please.” Nishinoya sets the axe up along the side of the wall, “-this is day three of us asking you to give us directions since that horde moved in, and you’ve come back with nothing. I don't feel like playing hide and seek when we have someone that could prevent that."

Kageyama sucks air heavily through his mouth. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll get on it. But I've already told you my priorities.”

Annoyance has already begun to bury its way beneath Tanaka’s exterior with Kageyama’s redundant comments; it’s mild, but Tanaka knows how this show runs. “-We’re not gonna have anyone to use that medicine on if our wall doesn’t stay held…”

“-It’s barely-living humans with rotting teeth and nails. Just because they got through your hillbilly car pileup doesn’t mean they’ll bust the wall.”

"No shit, that's why we'd be looking for cement mix, too!" Nishinoya protests as Kageyama turns to walk away. “So you’re going to come into our base and demand that we do more, but then when we offer to do something, you don’t give us what we need to get there...?!”

“You could learn to do the shit I do- I’m not a fucking cartographer, I just learned. Then, you won’t have to depend on me...”

But the much shorter man doesn’t back down. Tanaka can tell by his voice he’s fed up, “-because my job is to guard the walls, like it has been. I’m out building and pulling bodies off pikes all day...“

“You mean sitting around and watching your piss on dry all day?” Kageyama hikes his bag back over his shoulder. “-You’ll get a path to go loot things when I find one- that’s the point of mapping, dumbass.”

Tension swirling around them, Tanaka’s flings to Nishinoya’s side, absolutely ready to fight for his honor. But, the only thing they get is a curl of the lip and a click of the tongue. “… Tell Sugawara I checked in sometime during the evening so he doesn’t blow a fuse...”

"Woah, woah, woah- you're headed back out?!"

Most days, Kageyama just dropped the loaded bags from off his shoulders, replaced them with fresh ones, and then set off again. He also usually came and went without an exchange of words- but today, obviously, was different. Just as quick as it started, it’s over.

Nishinoya’s quick to break. “Oh, that son of a bitch is lucky he didn’t drag that on for five more seconds! He’s like a toddler- you can’t even argue with him!!”

Kinoshita behind him hushes him as his volume gets too loud. “A toddler finding his place on the food chain- the top. I hope Dai-san blows a gasket on him, soon. Anyone.”

“How old did you say Kageyama was…?”

“Only twenty-something. Twenty-one, I think…”

Tanaka hisses and sulks back to his spot he’d been in before everything went down; “no wonder he thinks he’s all that.”

“You’re only a year older,” responds Ennoshita.

A clump of dirt thumps against the wall. “Shut up. At least I’m mature.”

“You just threw dirt at me…!”

The boys laugh it all off.

“Shou…”

Dusty rooms now advertised themselves as the cleanest, most luxurious air in all of Tokyo. Particles reflect the outside light from a window, a reminder of their otherwise invisible presence. They land to rest on the outlines of the three bodies within a small, unattractive bedroom- once the slums of the city, now the richest you could live. The whirring of a box fan runs off dying batteries, muting the noise from outside- it doesn't do much for the smell, though. A false sense of security in a world that insisted they were never safe.

“-You cannot be serious.”

“I am outrageously serious.”

If Hinata would’ve known on that day, the day the bombs fell, that he’d be stuck in some apartment with nothing but the people he loved, he would’ve started counting down the days. He thinks that tallies on a wall or, better yet, some X-es through a calendar might've kept his head screwed on straight. The endless cycle of live or die, live or die, live or die had thrown him into a limbo- but, then again, he can't help but wonder if it he should be grateful that's all he feels. Maybe counting down the days would've sent Hinata straight to hell. Didn't matter to dwell on, though- time didn't stop. Not for him, at least. The wandering spirits of beaten down shrines knew just how much Hinata had gotten on his knees and prayed for that.

The only thing that told him their sentence hadn't been an eternity, yet, was by the snow only just turning into rain, and the buds cherry blossoms finally bloomed into rich whites and pinks. It must be late spring, and that means the longest it could be was a couple of months.

“Do you just- say things to piss me off, or are you genuinely so braindead you might as well already be one of them…?”

A crude temper comes from a tiny voice; a scrappy young girl sits in the corner, one hand on her knee and the other waving dramatically. Red hair still dangled in a matted ponytail in the same way it had been since day one- she either needed to brush it, or Hinata had to yell at her, again.

"Hey- Natchan, no potty-mouthing your elders..."

The three were alive, Kenma and both the Hinatas. Scraping by, but alive. Of all people, a guy with a life-threatening wound, a scrappy redhead, and his sixteen-year-old sister were the spoils of war...

But, trying to move to a more prosperous area wasn't an option for the three.

“What happened...?”

“I told you. You got hit in the head pretty hard when those bombs fell.”

“… Why are we here?”

“Because the people on the ground want to eat us.”

Kenma had awoken some time afterwards, that day, only knocked out for the few hours it took Hinata to retrieve Natsu. Those first couple of days would be the last time Hinata ever saw anyone else. Those first couple of days, you didn't stop for cashiers, or police officers. You didn't stop for morals. Societal expectations they'd held since forever- be modest and kind, respect your elders, wear a mask if you're sick... they were all gone within hours. Because when your competition was twenty million panicking people, some of them with gnashing teeth and insanity in their minds- taking whatever the hell you could grab before someone else could was more important. Society was gone in a couple of minutes, and morals were gone in few hours. And then, everyone else was gone, too. 

Hinata was convinced they were supposed to die along with them. Kenma was vomiting, spending the next handful of days in and out, only awake long enough to eat and take medicine that Hinata had scavenged- over the counter, herbal. Weak. And then, Hinata collapsed from fever, too- Natsu was forced to clear their apartments by herself for three days straight, digging through trash and scraps just to keep their hearts pumping. But Hinata didn't let himself rest long- Kenma, concussed, would complain of a headache that only got worse. He haunted Hinata's feelings of helplessness every time he awoke, unable to do anything but hold him to a sweaty, unclean chest. It pushed him back to his feet much too fast- where he clung to mysterious, low-grade fever that clung on for weeks.

He didn't have time to recover. He had two others who needed more help.

“… Why are we here…?”

Nothing awas retaining for Kenma, not anything but his past. Sometimes, he’d be told things and wouldn’t remember them for even a day. Sometimes, not even fifteen minutes. A broken record of retelling life-changing events to its biggest victim.

“You’ve told me this before?”

Hinata's voice is small and trembling. “Four times, Kenma.”

“… Oh. And you’re sure you’re not the one forgetting to tell me?”

Hinata laughs into his skin with bittersweet tears. Nonetheless, Kenma was still Kenma. They had all survived, somehow.

Hinata glares at his sister from where he sits at the edge of a bed. He looms over Kenma's unconscious like his warden. “I’m not doing this for you or me, so don’t talk back to me like I am.”

Natsu does not let up on him for a second. “Yeah, I know, but I like Kenma more than you. In order to keep Kenma alive, I need you here.”

Hinata raises his eyebrows at her. “You mean so I can do all the work…?”

“Well, yeah, you’re a boy in your twenties. It’s in your biology to want to get killed in a war or some shit...”

Natsu's frame stiffens as he rises to his feet, clearly taking her off guard. She takes a second, stunned, before blurting: “Shou, you’re gonna get yourself killed, moron-“

“I’ve been scoping it out again for days, Natsu. It won’t be like last time. Check it.” Waddling to a corner of the room, he digs into a bag, turning to show off a chain with a couple of dangling keys. “Ripped these off a dead employee like a bandaid a couple days ago. Besides, I’ve got a plan. You know, had some gears turning…”

“Your version of thinking is more like clanging stones together and hoping for a spark,” Natsu retorts, “tell me what you’ve thought of.”

Immediately bested, Hinata scoffs and dismisses her with the flick of a hand. “Mehh, you wouldn’t get it, but trust me. It’s got me running laps around Albert Einstein…”

“What did Albert Einstein invent?”

“Fuckin’- I don’t know, but they’re gonna credit me with inventing the foot up your ass technique real quick, asshole.” Hinata points at the door as he argues, “-my only option is the stuff in our bags back at the hotels. Our travel stuff. He…”

“Shou, he’s told us it’s not worth it. He remembers everything before the bombs, bringing that back won’t do anything..."

“But I can’t just sit here and do nothing, Natchan!  His brain is going to heal, soon, but that doesn’t mean it’ll heal how it’s..." Trailing off, Hinata squeezes a sigh out of him- he didn't want to wake Kenma with what he was about to say. "-I need Kenma's head to heal like it’s supposed to. If he doesn't exercise it... god, if those bags will do anything for him- even just comfort him… I’ll try as many times as I have to.”

Though leaner than he was, Hinata is even more raggedy than he used to be. Slight definition in his arms and legs disguise it well, but he makes sure Kenma gets every nutrient he needs to recover, and Natsu eats enough to thrive. Even if it means he doesn't eat, that day. They would survive no matter what.

“Because a couple hundred of freaks and hotel hallways went sooo well, last tume…”

Freaks. Coined by Hinata, it’s what they called the sick people. The infected.

From the bombs emerged a rapid sickness that left people with yellowed skin and rippling veins- people who could not control their autonomy, their hunger, fueled by a primitive and insentient urges. People who could survive their skin sagging from open wounds and infection- as it turns out, months. They were freaks- Hinata thought it was funny. Natsu, though she didn’t want to, thought it was funny too. Now, freak was common dialect.

“Tell me how this time could possibly be any different?”

Hinata shrugs and walks past her. “Fuh nah.”

“You can’t just say fuh nah to a reasonable question!!”

Hinata cracks open the seal on one of the windows before lifting it wide open. The rank air from the streets hits them like a smack to the face- they’re used to it, at this point. Footsteps stomp down the hall before insistent hands push Hinata out of the way. A foot lunges to the windowsill. “-I’m going with you, then.”

“Woah, woah, woah...!” Hinata latches onto Natsu's torso and yanks her back until she’s flailing like a cat above a bathtub. “-You need to stay here in case something happens to me.”

Natsu cocks an eyebrow. “What, so you’re saying you’re not sure you’ll come back?”

Hinata just stares at her.

“Yeah, see, gagged your stupid ass. I’m going with you so I can tell how stupid your plan, so you'll turn around and shuddup. Otherwise, you’ll say you won’t and then do it at seven pm...”

Peeved by the loss of an argument, Hinata then squints and shakes his finger at her as if her spine had eyes. “… When we get out of here, I’m telling mom.”

Halfway out the window, Natsu replies: “don’t try to act like you’re not getting fast food, first. I’ve heard you say quarter pounder like it’s your dead wife more times than you’ve talked about family.”

“Stop weaponizing my yearning against me, Natchan, you have no idea how hard of a situation that is to look back on-! Kenma suggested McDonalds and I said no…!”

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you yearn for a shower, next? Oh, no, wait- you didn’t even do that when we were civilized. Nevermind.”

Quickly turning back, his eyes find themselves checking Kenma again, who hasn’t moved an inch despite the argument. Deep, peaceful sleep was just as precious as a resource these days, and Hinata’s eyes soften the way they always do. Dark circles are pronounced under Kenma’s eyes, blood vessels poking through pale, exhausted skin. After a long fight to keep his own pulse, Kenma had finally been able to sleep these last couple of weeks. Not through pain, not through terror. From peace. Or, contentment, at least. He’d take that.

If Hinata had to dream about bleeding teeth every night just to let Kenma have naps like these, he'd let himself have nightmares until he dropped dead.

Gently into the air, he whispers, “be back soon, okay…?”

As his palms hit the roof and hands drag into his shirt to help him up, Hinata is met with a hellish view- one he likes to call his own. The smog that enveloped the rooftops, fire that still leeched from chemicals and tainted the air with its stench... yeah, all his. Where he actually was a mere estimate, but he knows the sea is behind his back a couple of miles out, where the ports of Tokyo Bay still clung to flaming oil. It left a gray plume sky-high, you could always see it. But, the siblings have no intention on making it to the ground. Beneath their feet, the earth trembled with all the groans and cries- as far as the eye could see, the streets were swamped with freaks. They left no alley, no waterway without another freak at an arms length at any point- if they had even that. A relatively early discovery proved that the infected weren't so aggressive to their own scent, only attacking one another when provoked. But keeping their blood on your body ran too high of a risk for infection- and they didn't exactly have the water to spare getting all of it off.

It left the Hinatas' with a rough outline and one treacherous solution.

“Whaddya think, Natsu?” A soft wind sings death under it's wings as it drags red hair to one side, “-you think this place is getting any clearer…?”

“Man, why'd I have to bring up quarter pounders...”

“... Good to see you've got your listening ears, today-!" Mocking one's yearning for a quarter pounder was a cruelty that Hinata would not inflict. There's an approach, a gentle hand placing on her shoulder; “-sure you’re ready?”

“Well- that depends on what I’m readying up for.”

“Meeehhh…” Hinata just responds in a shrug. The squeaking sound of his shoes scuffing the concrete for traction was louder than he was. He stops by lifting it to grab his ankle. “-I dunnooo. I kinda like keeping things a surprise…”

“So you do have braindead dumbfuck for your bullshit excuse for a plan…?”

“Natchan, languageeeuhhh..."

“Yeah, go ahead- tell mom about that, too."

"Nah, I kinda liked that one. Think I'm gonna steal it and call it my own when Kenma wakes up..."

Hinata lines himself up, like he's done many times before. His eyes trace the office building a few stories taller.

And with drastic bending of the knees, Hinata takes off with all the force his legs could generate. Lightning in his feet. He only has a few lengths to get himself into a sprint. As he nears the edge of the building, his arms throwing back without damaging his momentum- and he flies. Sailing with nothing beneath his feet for six stories, his hands flare out, making sense of what he could as the world blurs together with motion; fingertips come to snag a familiar open windowsill. A wide, delighted grin spreads across Hinata's face.

Hell yeah.

He hoists himself up into the building, flopping down into it with a rather unceremonious oof. A thud from behind him tells him his sister is right behind him, and his hands work down the length of her arm the higher he pulls her in. He demands she stretch more as he picks up a bloodied metal pole from the ground, checking through their bags before they made any hasty decisions...

And so, it began; the art of rooftop running. As the siblings climbed to higher steps to get to the next building, the next roof they stand on towers high over everything. Tokyo is less glamorous without its neon lights...

His view from the top. He tries not to look down.

It was a dance with death every time- but their odds were higher on the ground. An endless cycle of darting over, through, and across buildings hundreds of feet above the city. It ran the risks of misjudging a distance, getting too lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, even fumbling a good run up...

It was awesome; Hinata loved it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was his forté, after all. Running half the day was what they had to do- and Hinata could run until his heart gave out. Hinata knows the path to the hotel like the back of his hand, by now- there wasn't a day he didn't travel in this direction. 

All for Kenma. Anything for him.

As it comes to view, isolated from other buildings by an expansive parking lot, there was nothing to consider but a ground approach. Hinata still hasn't gotten used to that, if he's honest. The streets beneath them dind't look like the ones at home, but Tokyo’s version of “uncrowded” was still enough to fill a stadium. He'd tried to pick them off one by one many times- but it just seemed like he could spend hours out here and not get anything done. That's why today, he had a plan.

“Alright numbnuts.” Natsu sweeps the stray hairs out of her face, chest heaving, “-make my day...”

Placing his bag on the ground, Hinata is unabashedly enthusiastic as he shows her what's in his palms.

... Rocks.

And he sees the writing on the wall, a wrinkle in Natsu's nose. Of course she couldn't comprehend his level of genius- only the simple-minded wouldn't understand the importance of hella stones... she must be thinking, what a stupid, unnecessary thing to weigh yourself down with, for sure...

Hinata leaves one of the heavier stones in hand as the rest drop to the floor. The weight in his hand drags a smile across his face. “Watch this pitch.”

With a deep breath and a quick flex of the muscles, Hinata winds up once, then hurls the rock from the top of the building. A moment of silence follows before a loud clack echoes off the sides of buildings. He whips his head up and watches as both the rock bounces, and nearly every freak in the area’s head turns in... mediocre interest. Natsu has a hand on the back of her head in mock disbelief.

“… Are you serious?”

Hinata, meanwhile, beams in delight. Ohh, she wasn't ready for the killing blow of this operation. A second stone and flings at the mob below; it winds up bounching off a freak's shoulder, who shrieks in protest. The rest of the group all up their volume in response, shaming her with hisses for being too loud.

“Aim’s about as clean as your browser history,” Natsu comments. Hinata snorts back. “Okay little miss 2 girl bobbies in the YouTube search bar."

“I was ten, shut up! I'm as grown as you were when that happened and you still haven't let it go!!” Natsu snags the rock from Hinata’s open hand. “Let me throw something, I'm bored-!”

And so, Natsu joins in on the rock hurling. A bonding moment. Oh, it's so, so beautiful... After another stretch loosens his shoulders, Hinata bullets yet another rock down into the clearing. On impact there’s a sharp, splintering sound. Loud.

Hinata was sure of it- anything within a quarter mile could’ve heard the sound of a car window shattering. The mob’s groans grow louder, and they begin to make their way toward the shattered glass- not studying it, but lumbering towards, ready to punish whoever made the noise. 

“So, is this it? Just throwing rocks to distract them…?

Heh. “No, don't worry... I’m muuuch more calculating and intelligent than that…”

Back into his bag, he yanks out a very specific component: a bag of beef jerky.

Natsu doesn’t even make eye contact with him. “… Are you a real person? Like, I'm related to you genetically??"

“-Aht aht, don't be rude."

An index and thumb shows off the bag rippling under his touch, demonstrating sludgy consistency inside; “-you remember when we went to that grocery store for batteries and we saw those freaks absolutely fucking up that nuclear-smelling rotten watermelon? I think I cracked the code, a couple weeks ago- freaks don't like their food dry. They're always all dry and wrinkly, they probably don't get much water- so they get it wherever else they can. I've been makin' a crockpot with these bad boys under the sun for week or so, done some test drives. Watch this...”

Upon his magic words, the inflated bag gets tossed like a bloated frisbee into the area most dense with freaks; it promptly splats onto the concrete, a thick, brown rocketing out across the pavement. With innate curiosity, limping steps take the infected to investigate the area.

Another gets pulled and tossed- excited snarls turn into a frenzy as a pair begin wrestling to the ground over it. “-It might be why they don't eat each other too often, too. I don't like my pork bone dry, either...”

After staring at her expectantly, Natsu pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay. I actually didn't expect you to have a point, you usually don't. That was... almost smart. Like in a hand-me-down kind of way, y'know?"

“Sooo, like... inventing the telephone level smart…?”

Any semblance of admiration is torched out of Natsu's face like the burning of a flag. “Albert Einstein did not invent the telephone dumb-fucking-ass-“

"Ohhh my god, whateverrr- phase two-!"

Hinata already has all that he needs approaches the fire exit- a metal pipe stained pink. Hinata liked blunt things, the most- he found dazing the freaks to work just as well as blade through the skull. The keys fit snugly in the pocket of his pants; he checks that they're there every ten seconds, anyway.

“-You stay close. Like, not even five feet behind me. We’re gonna cut a path out, and that's it- don’t go out of your way, nothing unnecessary.“ Hinata rests with his hand on the doorknob, “-should we make a team cheer as motivation…?”

Natsu looks up through her eyebrows wordlessly.

“… God forbid I try to lighten the mood.”

Keeping his bag's weight tight and compressed to his back, Hinata busts open the fire escape door just a few feet away and begins the descent. By some stroke of luck, the first three floors are without immediate problems- the ground floor, however, would be an entirely different story. They were usually the worst.

“Shit…!”

In an attempt to stop his momentum, Hinata slips and busts his ass while a freak wheels around in an informal greeting. The larger population of freaks were sluggish, able to be outmaneuvered easily- it made the ones who still had fight left in them not quite rare, but always unexpected. Panic takes over his body in the form of ice-cold veins, and Hinata's leg lashes with intention, but little coordination. A foot swipes into the sides of the freak’s weakening knees, and they collapse. They let out a rasp that Hinata can only think to describe as hungry as they plant torso-first onto the ground next to him.

The fallen freak doesn’t stand a chance, unfortunately. Before they can even react properly, Hinata is towering over them, back on two feet. 

With a wide arc, Hinata's wrists lift behind his shoulders, where he launches all his weight in his hands downwards. An awful feeling curdles what's left in Hinata's stomach as the volt from the impact runs up his arms.  The freak’s only response is a horrid twitch and a gag of a squeal as Hinata raises the pipe over his head yet again, flicking black blood onto the ceiling as he winds up once more. This time, there’s much less of a crunch and more of just that mushy, thick-liquid sound. He only sees the carnage through squinted eyes.

It's been so long, and yet it still ties Hinata's stomach into knots. But at least he doesn't feel bad about having to do it, anymore. Survival meant to adapt. He knows that.

The pipe gives him a tug of disinclination before it emerges with a pop. With only a short exchange of glances, the siblings are off.

Arms are stretching for the door long before his flattened palm crashes against the door. The scene catches more than enough attention- but with the way they're spread out, they had it. "Doors on the backside, we're running straight! Stay close to me-!"

The bulbous end of the pipe rakes across a freak’s temple as he flies by- he doesn’t stop to see the outcome, but he knew his damage from the gunk that seeped from his weapon and splattered on his face. He tries to remember not to hold his breath- he didn't need his sides hurting. As the two run in a near straight line, they would leave a wet trail of blood and gore in their wake.

But it's still not easy. Exhaustion tugs at his malnourished legs and at his lungs, pulling him to the ground with a bad swing. It happens a lot. Admittedly, he might not ever get too used to killing these people- they spend way more time on the rooftops than in any open spaces. But one thing Hinata knew how to do damn well was get back on his feet. His old friend adrenaline made sure of that. He's already spinning into a sprint by the time Natsu covers him with a crack of a bat. She could say they weren't related all she wanted- they were no different. She loved blunt things, too. And with each step they take, he tasted accomplishment like sugar on his tongue through the particles of shit in the air. His determination could outweigh the strongest of his drain, always.

Behind the hotel, a small maintenance door sneaks up on him. His feet are still pulling themselves to a stop as a desperate hand digs into his pocket- "cover me, cover me," Hinata demands through his breath, with no choice but to try the keys one by one. Every minor fumble from his scared-stiff hands wasted just that much more time. He can hear the pounding footsteps from the liveliest getting close, alerting the others of their presence with territorial screams. “Shou-?!” her back urgently presses into his side.

"Hang on-!”

There’s a faint click. Hinata pulls.

“Go, go, go-!“

The two slide through the door as soon as a sliver is presented, leaving the keys stuck in the lock. Their aggressors give them no time, door slamming shut behind them. Flung onto all fours, Hinata watches droplets of sweat hit the ground as fists weakly pound against the glass. The groans were muffled- they were in, and the freaks weren't.

Score 0-1.

Vomit tries to come through his teeth, but a grin spreads wide on his face as he turns around to glare, watching filthy hands distort their frames behind mottled glass.

“... I hate when you have ideas...” Natsu has her hands on her head while Hinata flips the mob off with an ugly, wheezing laugh from the floor. “Yeah, kiss the glass for me...”

A point of no return, they were in. Hinata accepts a reaching hand from his sister, who gives him a sharp clap on the back upon his rise.

The room is a tiny, concrete box,  what could only make sense as a janitorial room- Hinata's bag is happy to take some sanitizers along. As their footsteps go silent, yielding caution as they step into the hallway- the smell gets to them, first. Dirt and shit line the walls, at starkly contrasting levels of dryness and wetness. It made the walls unrecognizable- and left the Hinatas' retching. They jog down the halls trying to keep their lunches- making noise didn't matter, and Hinata praises god when it leads to the stairwell and not the main lobby. They travel more flights than they need to just to get a breath of air that's fresh enough to keep them upright.

"God," Natsu's face is red and tears swell in her eyes, "God, I hate nests..."

Hinata's chuckle wheezes out of him. "You chose to be here... uh oh-"

"Don't gag, asshole, you'll make me gag-!"

"I'm trying, stop yelling!!"

As they regain themselves, they still try not to choke on their middle floors. He could see dirt seeping from the cracks of some of the rooms, but they remained shut. As Natsu walks ahead, Hinata stands right on her heels, sweeping the halls with little concern. "Shou."

The combination he always sung was suddenly staring back at him. A brief pause hangs at the door, taking in shaky breaths as Natsu readied herself to swing. Hinata, however, just presses his fingers to his lips, smiling for all of God to see. “Oh, she’s beautiful…”

Genuine disgust in Natsu's eyes. “Just open the damn door, we worked so hard.”

Hinata shrugs, caressing the frame dramatically. “But the place is so intact… a sweet virgin to the apocalypse…”

“Eww?? Actually don't say that, ew???  Do I need to leave you alone…?”

Hinata shrugs as he holds his pipe above his head. “Don’t even joke like that. It’s been two months, any time I see something remotely resembling a hole it’s like an oasis mirage to a dehydrated man in the desert...”

Clank! The door’s handle busts. Hinata is grinning proudly just bribing the reaction out of her- Natsu shakes her head with a scrunched face like she bit a lemon. “Ewwww-! ew, ew, ew! Shouyou, tell me you're joking so I can sleep tonight! Tell me that by, like, yesterday-!"

"I am joking, I am! Sheesh-! It's okay!" His monologue spits the sound of an incorrect buzzer. He hears freaks start groaning behind one of the muddy doors. But nothing further gives him the okay to enter.

Carrying a crisp, contained scent, the inside of their hotel room remains untouched by the outside world. To the two survivors, it was like opening a time capsule- one from a world that wasn't even that far away, yet. Of course, their bags- their stuff- was there. An obnoxious hand cups to his ear as Hinata swells with pride. “Oh yeah, this is what I'm talking about- who’s a genius, Natsu, let me hear it…”

“Pretty sure cavemen invented throwing stones…”

“But did they invent strategy…?”

“… Well, yeah, that’s- kind of what they’re known for.”

“Whatever.” Collapsed next to their bags, Hinata opens Kenma's bag- recognition hits him in waves, but he doesn't dare get his filthy mitts on anything. He just lets his throat well shut as he recognizes symbols he never batted an eye at, before. “Ohh, everything’s so clean…! I forgot how white white could get!"

They’d done it. Hinata looks back up in glee.

“… Oh, shit-“

A scream hangs up in his throat as Hinata collapses backwards, backpedaling on the floor as a tall freak in the doorway lets out an interested hiss.

"Shou-!”

Hands scatter and fumble backwards in search for his pipe as the freak takes a lunging few steps forwards. But before either could commit to defend or attack, Natsu barrels into them from the side, unarmed. A dull slam against a cabinet and the rattling of decorations is followed up by the freak's complete interest in her, furious. Hinata, panicked, scrambles to his bag on the bed before lunging at it. The ill texture of splitting skin vibrates through his palm as the blade of a pocketknife embeds itself into the freak’s scalp- it spits out thick, curdled blood in response. The freak’s mouth hangs open in shock.

Hinata tries to feel less.

A foot between the shoulder blades retracts the knife from the freak’s skull. Getting out was the only thing on his mind- that and how loud he’d screamed. “You- you okay??” Hinata asks, peeking out the doorway.

“Fine,” huffs Natsu, clearly shaken up by the urgency in which she gathers their things, “-those shits can sneak up on you when you’re not paying attention…”

Hinata takes one look, registers the situation, then slams the door shut behind him with his back pinned against it. It leaves him with his most complex thoughts: No. Oh hell no. There’s a repetitive, pounding on the door just seconds after, and Hinata's entire body tries to tense up underneath it. “Natsu, get the chain lock-! The handle’s bust, I’m the only thing keeping this thing shut-”

Before Natsu can even respond, a slam opens the door for a fraction of a second, making Hinata throw all his weight into his hips with panicked eyes. “Natsu, now!!”

Her moves are flighty, agitated. She fumbles trying to get it hooked on. “How many are there…?!” Natsu asks urgently.

“Uh, two- ten too many." A thin lock between them and death. As Hinata stumbles back, fingers sneak their way through the doors like spiders' limbs waiting to ambush. The chain lock strains. "-Help me get this cabinet moved over, help me-!"

"Are you kidding me?!”

“Listen, light miscalculation on my part- one of them must've been able to open doors, it was wide open." There's an unpleasant screeching of wood as the cabinet drags in front of the door by a few inches. Hinata's palms repeatedly smash the door back into them, trying to mash the freaks' fingers off. "-We might be fine if we can get this door closed-!"

As if on cue, the chain lock rips on its hinges; fear turns them to stone for a few precious seconds, watching it snap off completely. Inch by inch, the cabinet starts being bumped back. Vision tunnelling, Hinata spins through every dead-end option in the room. Natsu shakes behind him with her bat in her hands, he can feel it on his skin. “Shou, anything-?!”

Hinata pauses, his brain meeting him somewhere in the middle, despite its frayed wires. A patch of sunlight, reflecting off of blood from the freak’s dead body- His head sweeps towards the window it came through, as if it had never been there. And it hadn’t, technically- not as an opportunity.

“Get back-!”

A flying few steps and Hinata's clawing the lock on the frame- only to have it be jammed. His breath hisses through his teeth in frustration.

“What’re we doing?!”

“Getting loud-!”

A wind and a hurl puts a gaping hole in the window, rock skipping a few times on the cement below. Duffle bags get lugged down, where he could only hope their precious valuables were cushioned well enough to not shatter like the glass on impact. The freaks outside gawk in interest- their hotel room was out front, where most of the mess was. But the two had better chances anywhere but here.

The pole rakes as much glass as it can out of the way- then, his jacket goes over the top. His eyes meet Natsu’s as he gestures faintly to the windowsill. “-Ladies first.”

“Fuck you.” Natsu doesn’t hesitate.

“Careful on the landing, there's glass-!”

Hinata watches her movements be careful as they could be with the limited time, but her face twists right before she lets go. The jacket falls with her, and Hinata's heard plummets when she lands in an awkward half-squat that sends her back pedaling a few steps- had to hurt. “You alright?!”

But she seems bothered as she pulls her bat out at her side. “Fine…!”

A final push and a massive thud- Hinata's head whips around to the cabinet tumbling and flashes of mouths that have become hysterically audible. They’re through. 

Any time for concern over what he was doing was a waste. Gripping the windowsill, Hinata practically slings his body out the opening, tiny fractals digging into his palms. He's hurt worse. As his body twists, he finds his nose just inches away from horrible, browning teeth. A bloated face looks at him like he had appetite for him, dying to sink those receding gums into undeserving flesh...

Hinata lets go of the windowsill much too early to save his own skin.

-Well, most of his skin.

Pain rips up through his forearm and choked scream comes from surprised lungs. He plummets downwards as shock pulverizes all the way into his most sensitive organs, off balance and completely lost. He listens to bits of glass raining down with him behind the wind in his ears. It plays the most beautiful song for him, nothing but glittering crystals and the blue sky reflecting in his wide eyes.

A lifetime plays out during that drop. Walking at the beach. Frustrated to tears over a school desk. Tender words told by a liar. At the same time, there's hardly enough time for him to get a breath out.

“Shouyou!!!”

Kenma smiles back at him, warmly.

A sickening crack ripples through his diaphragm as he lands on his side, followed by his head recoiling on the concrete. In that moment, Hinata fights. Adrenaline has become his heart's shadow, censoring the pain he felt, even if only for a moment- this moment, the last one he'd have. He knew that. Flashes of light swirl into a bluish-green hue, doubling, then swelling into blurred shapes...

Hinata fights and takes a singular, rasping breath on the ground before he’s out cold. He doesn’t get to hear Natsu scream his name a second time.

Footsteps halt in their place. With an alert turn, deep, blue eyes find the direction towards the screaming. That was no lurker.

It's been a while- a long while, out here. The response is immediate- not in his voice, but with the hurried footsteps that begin echoing off the alleyway walls. Kageyama doesn't give himself the time to be anything but good. If he over thought it, he wouldn't do it. If it was danger, so be it- he would prepare for that when he could tell it wasn't a cry for help. A small, traditional handgun is tight at his chest as he now sprints down the cement he’d just passed. A slew of imagery shoots point-blank in Kageyama’s head, flashbacks triggered by the familiarity of it. He shuts it out as quickly as it comes.

Trained by sight and ready to fire, the soles of Kageyama's shoes plant at the very end of an alley, looking over the asphalt of a parking lot. Lurkers make up the clearing, appearing and disappearing behind cars- a ton of them. But, the bodies on the ground- it doesn't take long to realize that most of these dead bodies were far from old. Chunks of their heads and faces lie torn next to their bodies, liquids still flowing. Where was that voice?

“Nooo-!”

Kageyama freezes when his trailing eyes catch a small girl, surrounded by several bags. She fends off a gruesomely limp body that Kageyama can make out from his position even a few of blocks away. Discomfort threads through Kageyama's muscles and stitches them together, keeping him stiff as he watches. The larger male was far too heavy for her to move more than a couple of inches at a time , leaving her no time to treat his wounds. Blood trails behind his limp legs, a lot of it, staining broken glass the same shades of red you'd see in old shrines and temples. It's the heaviest in his hair and on his face...

The scene had Kageyama's feet are planted with terror, faces and screams of the past overlapping with the here and now. But something about a little girl's tears hitting the same pools of blood that the lurkers were lining up to feast off of...

If he didn't try, her face would be the next to show in his nightmares. It's a pattern he's too familiar with.

"... Damn it.”

Rapid pops of bullets send bodies to the ground as Kageyama approaches- no matter how much it twisted his gut, he didn't have time to think if he should be reserving them. Way too much going on for that. The girl shrinks with her hands over her head at the sound, as if the bullets were out to get her, too.

Twenty-two bullets left, two in the chamber.

Skidding to a halt, in front of her seems to be the first time she notices Kageyama there. She’s in shock, pupils blown out and glassy in sunken eyes. There's no time for introduction.

"What happened?!” His own body is jittering.

“My- my brother-!” she stammers like she hasn't talked to anyone else in a while. “-He fell-“

That was a lot of blood. Too much. Stomach twisted into knots, questions and flashbacks keep him on his feet instead of helping. “Was he bit-?”

“No, never-!”

Her voice is sincere, but an unnatural touch to his skin's hue keeps Kageyama hesitant. "-Why does he look like that, then?"

“W- we’re not bit, asshole! You can check our bodies for bites when we’re out of here, but you won’t find them-!!”

The body in her clutches was in rough shape, covered in days old scars and bruises; poor conditions before he died. Not quite starved- whatever was just above emaciated. The building courage to ask her to leave him for dead suddenly washes out when he sees a twitch from an otherwise still chest. Kageyama shuts everything else out completely, making sure he wasn’t imagining things when he saw the man’s chest rise once, then twice. The guy at their feet was still breathing. The guy at their feet was still alive.

“... Holy shit.” Overwhelmed with shock, Kageyama collapses to his knees. Any other case and he'd searching for a pulse- blood ticking under his touch. But if he hadn't imagined things, this guy didn't have the extra five seconds it would take to check. He was losing blood fast, the sight made him queasy...

"-Here!!" A zipper opening makes Kageyama flinch as the girl flings a clean shirt at him- very clean. She stands in front of her travel bag with her eyes bugged out of her skull. "-Wrap his arm! Please! Save him, please!!"

A look past her face has Kageyama letting shots off behind her. Bodies fall as Kageyama demands, "cover me, then-!!"

Twenty-two bullets left, none in the chamber.

Curses leave his lips as he ripped through cloth; every stiff and panicked muscle made things feel too slow, too sloppy. He hears the footsteps of the girl darting around behind him and only has to trust she'll hold up okay- he didn't exactly have faith. “-We have a doctor, sort of, a ways from here- we’ll get him patched up. I don't know that he's gonna make it, but we'll try.” Kageyama loops a second cloth a few times around the redhead’s wounded arm, as tightly as he believes was possible. The man stays unconscious the entire time, not even a dip in his breathing as the shirt compressed into his wound- wasn’t a particularly good sign. “-What’s his blood type?”

“O- O positive, same as mine-!”

“Good, cause he’s not gonna live without it.”

A thin layer of plasma is wiped from under the guy’s nose. Kageyama feels the faintest blow of a breath over his thumb. The blood on his fingertips is making the corners of his vision go black. He pants with discomfort. But he'd made the right call. Right now, this guy was very much alive. Of everything he could push down, Kageyama found it impossible to ignore that.

"Hey, don't pick that shit up! We have to go!" Kageyama yells as the girl grabs at her bag. His own drops right off his back. "-I know where this is, I have maps! You need to keep up with me- in case no one else gives blood right away. People can be selfish and your brother doesn’t have that time-!”

The situation is bleak. He needed an operating table prepared, now- but he didn't have a way to warn anyone of what was coming. Blood connects feeble limbs stringed to the cement as Kageyama rises with it- he weighed very little. Despite this, the negative thoughts propel Kageyama forward. He doesn’t dare drop another living human onto the road. He doesn't dare look at the blood on his hands, either. “-So we’re gonna hurry, okay?! As fast as we can, go! Stay with me!!"

Lurkers snap at their lunch making a getaway. Footsteps are already pounding in his ears by the time they pelt out of the parking lot. This guy was alive. Even if the time was impossibly short, there was still time to do something about it. He can't find it in him to be annoyed at the girl making extra noise with her sniffling.

If Kageyama had to break his limits to save the life in his arms, he’d run until his heart stopped beating. He can hear every second of his pulse, and hopes his heart would pound enough for them both of them.

That’s just how it was.