Chapter Text
Tetsujo doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop worrying about Dokuga.
They are safe here, in a way that they never were and never could be in the magic user world, but he still worries about him. Only now, it’s for different reasons.
Dokuga’s always had some kind of wall up. He always kept some degree of separation between himself and the other Cross-Eye elites; he was the boss’s second-in-command and they were Dokuga’s men, so Tetsujo can understand why he did that, even if he still doesn’t understand all of the decisions that Dokuga made. He was always at arm’s length.
A part of Tetsujo thought that the wall might come down when it became clear that things were different now. When they healed his wounds and Tetsujo could finally stop worrying that Dokuga was going to slip away in the night to somewhere he couldn’t follow. When they got jobs here at the Hungry Bug and could afford somewhere to live so he could finally stop worrying that both of them would get killed sleeping out on the street. He thought that the wall would come down, that Dokuga would finally be able to reach for him now that things are different.
But he hasn’t.
Things have changed between them, of course. How could they not?
When they first got the keys to their tiny apartment down the street from Nikaido’s restaurant, Dokuga’s eyes had gone to the open bathroom door and the dirty tub, but he hadn’t suggested he sleep in there. They’d shared too many blankets, too many nights together out in the cold, for his poison to be a danger in that way. Neither of them can sleep alone anymore. But even though he holds Dokuga in his arms every night, his hand over his heart so that he can hear it beating and know that he’s still alive, there’s still a distance between them that he can’t seem to cross.
It's been months since they started working at the restaurant. More than a year since the battle with Hole. More than a year since they lost everyone else. More than a year since Tetsujo carried Dokuga off on that flying carpet to try and salvage what they could of their lives.
And about a week since Tetsujo realised he was in love with him.
The setting sun had been bathing the restaurant in a warm orange glow. They’d stayed late for beers and Kaiman had cooked gyoza for them again since they’d gone down so well the first time after that strange period where he’d been talking to himself and Nikaido had taught him to cook. Vaux and Kasukabe had stopped by after a long day at the hospital and everyone was feeling a pleasant buzz. Dokuga had been sitting by himself – even when Nikaido told him that he could come and sit with them, he wouldn’t – and Tetsujo had looked over at him, his eyes shining like honey or syrup or the gleaming gold of sunlight and he’d known. Dokuga had caught him staring and smiled, lifting his can in a cheers and Tetsujo had lifted his as well, thinking that he wanted nothing more in life than to work here at this restaurant and drink beers with his friends and to have Dokuga by his side.
He doesn’t know why his heart picked that particular moment to make him aware of his feelings, but since then he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He snatches glances at him when they work and hopes that he’s not making himself obvious. He holds him tight against his chest at night and prays that Dokuga isn’t going to realise that it’s more than just a habit.
And that’s where he is. He’s in love with Dokuga; he can’t stop worrying about Dokuga. He’s waiting and waiting for the wall that Dokuga always has up to finally come down and he doesn’t know if it ever will or how long he can look across that gulf between them and wonder if Dokuga will ever look back.
*
“Aw, Nikaido!” Kaiman wails, his head in his hands. “Don’t make me do it!”
“You promised, Kaiman!” Nikaido says, pointing at him with a spatula. “You promised Professor Kasukabe. You can’t go back on your word.”
“But it’s all the way over there!” He gestures vaguely towards the door of the Hungry Bug. “And his house is so weird and creepy. We got lost in there! We could’ve starved to death!”
“We would not have starved to death.”
“You know we were stuck, though! If the Professor hadn’t found us when he did, who knows how long we would've been trapped in there?”
“I remember.” Nikaido rolls her eyes and pokes at the omelette she’s making, rolling it in the pan. “You jumped into my arms like a little girl.”
“I did not,” Kaiman says and Nikaido scoffs because he definitely did.
“Look, you were the one who promised Kasukabe you’d check in on his house and water his plants while he’s away. He’ll be so upset if he comes back and they’re all dead.” She turns off the heat and flips the omelette over a bed of rice, then comes around the counter to set it down in front of Kaiman. Instead of coming here early for breakfast he could have been to Kasukabe’s house already, and then there wouldn’t be anything to complain about. “You have to go,” she continues.
“Can’t you make the sorcerers do it?”
She groans and flops down into the seat opposite him, smiling when his eyes light up at the taste of the food she’s made. “That would be unfair. House-sitting for Kasukabe isn’t in their job description.”
“Everything is in their job description,” Kaiman says through a mouthful of egg and rice.
He has a point. Dokuga and Tetsujo have been working here for a while now and neither of them object to any part of their jobs. They clean and take out the trash without complaints. They serve customers and sweep the front step. They wash the dishes and dry them and put them away, and they thank her when they pocket their meagre salaries. They’re much better workers than Kaiman, who complains about anything and everything she has him do at the restaurant.
Nikaido likes them a lot. Tetsujo is friendly and personable and Dokuga is quiet but unfailingly polite. Making progress with them was slow at the start; Nikaido coaxing them into sticking around for dinner with her and Kaiman or getting them to have beers when Vaux and Thirteen and Kasukabe came over. Kaiman even subjected them to his cooking experiments, and she thinks that the moment they clanked their beer cans together to celebrate Kaiman’s success at making gyoza was the moment they truly became friends. They’ll be here soon, and Nikaido needs to convince Kaiman to go and water the damn plants himself before he convinces one of them to do it. And he will convince them, because Kaiman is funny and likeable and very persuasive when he wants to be.
“Nikaido,” Kaiman says, his eyes widening and a grin appearing on his face.
Oh no. She knows that look.
“Nikaido,” he says again, pushing his empty plate away. “I was really scared in that mansion. It was full of ghosts—”
“Illusions.”
“It was full of illusions, and the layout got all warped, and there were all of those dead bodies and magic user masks—”
“Where are you going with this?” She sighs. She knows that it was scary – she was there – but it was just because of Kasukabe’s research having weird effects on the space.
“Okay, but I got scared and I kept grabbing onto you, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she says, rolling her eyes again. That was when he jumped into her arms like a little girl, and even though she’s pretty strong, Kaiman’s still pretty damn heavy. He kept clinging onto her shoulders and hiding behind her as well, and he even got so scared at one point that he fainted. “You shouldn’t have promised to water the plants if you’re so scared.”
“I’m not scared! Anyway—” he quickly says before she can argue otherwise. “Anyway, the point is, don’t you think a scary situation like that could bring people closer, especially if they can’t escape?”
Nikaido blinks at him as she processes what he’s saying, and then her jaw drops. “You were the one who told me to leave them alone!”
“Well, you gotta let them come to terms with—whatever they are in their own time,” he says, and Nikaido glowers. “I’m serious, Nikaido. You don’t even know what’s going on with them.”
It’s as clear as day that Tetsujo’s hopelessly in love with Dokuga. He’s always looking at him when he thinks that nobody’s watching, always stealing glances at him when he mops the floor or carries out the garbage. They live together and Nikaido knows that they sleep together – in the most literal and platonic sense of the word – and they have done ever since they were living on the streets of Hole. When Nikaido had hired them, Tetsujo had pulled Dokuga into a hug, arms clasped tightly around him. They’re protective over each other as well, Tetsujo especially so; if Dokuga so much as stubs a toe on a table leg Tetsujo is right there beside him, making sure that he’s okay. Nikaido has watched this relationship with growing certainty that there’s more to it than just friendship.
For Tetsujo, anyway.
With Dokuga she isn’t as sure. After she’d noticed Tetsujo with his eye always on Dokuga, she started paying attention to how Dokuga acted. He’s much subtler than Tetsujo, though there’s something there that makes her think he feels the same way. She can just tell – she can feel it in the air, like electricity when they’re near each other. But he’s hard to read. He keeps everyone at a distance, and while she thought at first that it was just him being cautious of her and Kaiman and the others, she’s noticed he keeps Tetsujo at arm’s length as well. With his past, she isn’t surprised that he’s like this, but she wonders if Tetsujo will ever be able to break through.
It was thoughts like this that she’d been voicing to Kaiman a couple of days ago when he’d made her promise not to interfere. Only now, Kaiman’s the one suggesting they get involved. Even if it’s clearly for self-serving reasons. She takes his empty plate with a sigh and he follows her into the kitchen.
“So you’re okay with not leaving them be if it gets you out of having to go to Kasukabe’s house?” Nikaido says with a scowl.
“Hey, it’s not like we’re really getting involved,” says Kaiman, nudging her out of the way of the sink so that he can clean his own plate. “I’m not saying I’ll tell them to go and make out with each other in Kasukabe’s mansion. I’m just saying it might help them along.”
“They can’t make out with each other,” Nikaido points out. “Tetsujo would die.”
“Whatever.” Kaiman waves a hand dismissively. “As long as they water the plants. Think about it. They’ll be trapped, trying to keep each other safe—”
“We can’t let them get stuck in there for too long. We’d have to go and get them after work.”
“Yeah.” There’s a twinkle in Kaiman’s eyes. “So does that mean you’re in?”
Nikaido swats at his arm and shakes her head. Then she sighs in resignation. “Fine. I’m in.”
*
When Dokuga woke up after the battle and Tetsujo told him what had happened, Dokuga felt like he could see the great expanse of the future stretched out before him as some endless void as massive and empty as the lake of refuse.
Every morning when he opens his eyes he feels that same hollow emptiness in his chest where the boss used to be and it’s all he can do to restrict his thoughts to the rest of the day alone, to not let his mind spiral out in panic at what will become of them here. This morning is no different. He opens his eyes and his mind goes first to the Cross-Eyes – what orders they’ve been given today, what they can do to make money, who they need to kill – and then he remembers that the boss is dead and the Cross-Eyes are dead and only one he has left is Tetsujo.
Tetsujo. Dokuga closes his eyes again and lets himself feel the warm weight of him at his back, the slow rise and fall of his chest. His arm is slung over Dokuga, his hand on his heart so that he can feel it beating. Dokuga knows that he does this because of those six months they spent living on the streets of Hole, when he was scared that Dokuga’s injuries would worsen and he would die. Even though there’s no danger of that now, they both can’t quite let go of the habit of clinging to each other.
He did think of talking to Kasukabe about it once. After Kaiman went all crazy about gyoza – more so than usual – he said that talking it out with Kasukabe had really helped him. But opening up about his feelings isn’t really Dokuga’s style, and he doesn’t know what he would say even if he could bring himself to talk about it. I feel like I’m floating through the lake of refuse, he might say, and Tetsujo’s still holding onto me like he did when it really happened. It’s like I never surfaced when everyone else did.
And he’s sure that Kasukabe would interpret something from that. It wouldn’t be hard; he feels like he’s floating because for the first time since he was a little kid he doesn’t have someone to follow. He’s clinging to Tetsujo because they’re the only ones who remember what it was like to feel the burning rain of Hole and look up to see their saviour. He assumes that Tetsujo’s clinging to him for the same reason. Maybe he thinks of Dokuga as the boss now; he supposes that he’s technically in charge of the Cross-Eyes, not that there’s anything left of the organisation except for the memories of what used to be.
He brings his hand up to cover Tetsujo’s and brushes a thumb across his knuckles. Then he lifts his arm off him and slips out of bed, stretching and heading over to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Work and home. Their routine doesn’t change. He should be grateful for the safety and the stability – and he is – but it doesn’t help how lost he feels.
Tetsujo wakes up not long after and they leave for the Hungry Bug. It’s a short walk in the dim grey light of dawn and there’s a chill in the morning air. Nikaido’s pulling up the metal shutter over the storefront when they walk up and she waves them in, telling them that there’s breakfast inside.
Kaiman is already there, and he’s already eaten. He pushes a couple of plates over the counter to them and watches them eat, which is slightly unnerving. Dokuga sits at a different table to Tetsujo, still not willing to risk getting too close.
“Everything okay?” he asks, looking up at Kaiman with a frown.
“Why’d you ask?”
“Well,” Dokuga raises an eyebrow. “You’re staring at us.”
“I need a favour.”
He’s apprehensive as he clears their plates, washing them quickly and putting them away – Tetsujo’s with the rest of the plates and his own into the cupboard where he keeps the dishes only he eats off, for safety – and then he turns around and folds his arms.
“It depends,” he says, “on the favour.”
Kaiman can be quite lazy sometimes, and he’s worried that he’s going to try and get them to do his job. He’s particularly worried that Nikaido might have asked him to put that gyoza costume on again, and he’s trying to get one of them to take his place. Nikaido come to stand by Kaiman and leans over his shoulder to see what he’s doing, nodding with approval. His gaze slips from Nikaido to Tetsujo, meeting his eye, and he finds himself thinking back to that moment when she hired them to work at the restaurant, when Tetsujo had seized him in a hug and told him that things would be better now. He glances down at the floor.
“I promised Kasukabe I’d water his plants,” Kaiman explains. “I was hoping that you two could do it for me.”
“Why does Kasukabe need us to water his plants?” asks Tetsujo.
“He’s gone away on a research trip,” Kaiman says.
“A romantic vacation with his wife,” clarifies Nikaido. “Well, he’s also doing research. He’s always doing research.”
“Why can’t you water his plants?” Dokuga says. He knows the answer – it’s because Kaiman’s lazy and he knows he can get the two of them to do things for him – but he wants to make sure that there’s going to be an incentive. Preferably financial. Dokuga made quite a good profit when he put the trash out when Kaiman was supposed to do it.
“I, uh—I don’t feel like it?” Kaiman grins.
Dokuga rolls his eyes. “I guess I could go. It won’t take long. I know where Kasukabe’s house is.”
“No, you both need to go,” Kaiman says quickly. “Kasukabe’s house is huge. There’s a lot of plants.”
Nikaido glares at him and then rolls her eyes. Dokuga can’t interpret that look. He thinks that she might not be willing to let two employees go wandering off to some mansion. Kasukabe must’ve taken Jonson on vacation with him, because otherwise he’d be the one watering the plants. Some romantic getaway.
“It’s fine,” Nikaido says with a sigh. “You can both go.”
Tetsujo plucks a chunk of carrot from a chopping board by Kaiman’s elbow that he’s clearly given up on and pops it into his mouth with a crunch. “Will it take long? How big is Kasukabe’s house?”
“Big,” Kaiman admits. “I’ll pay you?”
Tetsujo looks over at Dokuga and tilts his head. Dokuga nods. “Okay,” he says, pushing himself away from the counter. “We’ll do it.”
*
Dokuga thought that Tetsujo was still asleep this morning when he woke up. Tetsujo had kept his breathing still so that he could feel the brush of Dokuga's hand over his before he got out of bed and now he feels mildly sick with himself for descending to such a pathetic low.
Dokuga doesn’t have a clue.
Normally he’s one of the most intelligent people Tetsujo’s ever met; he was the brains behind most of the Cross-Eyes’ operations. But he can also be so wilfully ignorant when he wants to be. He refused to see the truth about what the boss was up to and refused to acknowledge that what they were doing was wrong. Tetsujo doesn’t want him to realise that he’s in love with him, because he thinks that if Dokuga can’t see it then that must mean he doesn’t want to see it.
He’s pulled out of this train of thought when they get to Kasukabe’s mansion and his jaw drops.
It’s enormous. Nothing like En’s mansion – though he doesn’t think anything could possibly be that ostentatious – but still much more impressive than he thought any house could be in this city. It’s built in an old-fashioned style, two storeys tall and widely expansive. Dokuga pulls the key from his pocket, inserting it into the lock and opening the door with a click.
“Woah,” Tetsujo says, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor as he walks into the darkened entryway. Dokuga follows, keeping the door ajar as he flicks the light switch to no avail.
“The light’s not working,” Dokuga says, grimacing and looking around. “Looks like there’s no plants here.”
“This place is crazy,” Tetsujo kicks his shoes off before hopping up onto a step leading to two hallways. They stretch out in both directions, blanketed in shadow and seemingly devoid of furniture. He can’t begin to think where the plants could be. Maybe he should have asked Kaiman for a map.
Dokuga tries the lights again, flipping the switch on and off and sighing when nothing happens. He takes his shoes off as well and lines them up neatly next to Tetsujo’s.
“Where should we go?” Tetsujo scuffs his socked heel against the floor and looks over at Dokuga. Both hallways look identical to him and neither of them brought flashlights. Dokuga gives him an odd look and comes over slowly, peering from side to side.
“Maybe we should find a kitchen or something,” he mutters. “Get some water. Then at least when we find the plants we’ll be prepared.”
“No wonder Kaiman said we both needed to come.”
“Hm.” Dokuga walks to one of the hallways and peers down it. “This way will do, I guess.”
Tetsujo keeps one hand on the wall as they head down the hallway, his eye slowly adjusting to the darkness. There’s enough light coming in from somewhere – the ajar front door, windows that they could definitely see from the outside – and he can just about see the way ahead, Dokuga’s silhouette in front of him. It reminds him a little of when they lived in Berith and couldn’t afford to pay the electricity bill. They would walk around in darkness, shoulders brushing together when they passed each other in the hall.
He glances back over his shoulder and sees the dark shape of a person peering round the doorway.
“Dokuga!” He hisses, grabbing his shoulder. “There’s someone in here!”
“What?” Dokuga slips past him and squints in the darkness, but when Tetsujo turns back around the shape’s vanished. “Tetsujo, where?”
“There was—” he shakes his head and jogs back to the entrance. There’s no one to be seen, and he would have heard footsteps if they’d ran. He comes back to Dokuga and shakes his head. “I thought I saw someone. Sorry.”
“Shit,” Dokuga sighs. “Come on.”
They come to the end of the hall and find themselves in another mostly empty room, though Tetsujo spots a low table pushed up against a wall. When he walks over to it he finds a half-melted candle in a holder and several fresh ones, as well as a box of matches. He grins and lights the candle, pocketing the others.
“Jackpot,” he says, lifting it up to illuminate the room. The ceilings are high and crisscrossed with wooden beams, shadows clinging above. Across the room is a sliding door. There isn’t a single plant to be seen.
“Not this room, then,” says Dokuga.
“What’s with this house?” Tetsujo turns in a slow circle. “En’s taste was horrible, but at least none of the rooms were empty. Does Kasukabe really need a whole room just for one table?”
“Maybe he’s got a greenhouse for his plants,” mutters Dokuga.
Tetsujo shrugs. He wouldn’t put it past Kasukabe. He’s not sure he would put anything past Kasukabe. This place is strange, but it’s not like he minds wandering aimlessly around with Dokuga. He lifts the candle higher to peer up at the beams and when he looks back down the light catches in Dokuga’s eyes and his heart leaps up into his throat. It’s just like that evening in the restaurant when he realised that his feelings for Dokuga were more than just their partnership and more than just him clinging to what he had left.
“What is it?”
“Dokuga—” Tetsujo pauses. What could he say? I’m in love with you, and you have no idea. The darkness of this house which reminds him of the darkness of the house in Berith just makes him think of all those years when Dokuga kept them all away. When he knew that the boss had killed Risu and didn’t tell them. When he knew what had happened to the boss and didn’t tell them. Would he have even told Tetsujo that the boss would be gunning for Natsuki if Tetsujo hadn’t forced it out of him?
“Tetsujo?” Dokuga frowns in the candlelight.
No, he can’t say anything to Dokuga. If Dokuga even took in what he was saying then all he would do is push him away.
“Sorry,” he says, grinning awkwardly. “Got kind of distracted.”
Dokuga looks around. “By what?”
“By, uh—” Tetsujo’s eye widens as he looks over Dokuga’s shoulder to the sliding door and sees a person silhouetted there. “Shit!” He darts forward, Dokuga jumping at his sudden yell, and flings the door open to reveal another empty hallway.
“What the fuck, Tetsujo?” Dokuga puts a hand on his shoulder and peers round him into this new hallway. Just like the other one it stretches out in both directions and it’s completely dark.
“There was a person standing behind the door,” he says. He’s certain that he saw someone standing there. It wasn’t his imagination.
“There’s no one here,” Dokuga says. “Pass me a candle.”
Tetsujo hands him one of the ones from his pocket and Dokuga lights it from his. He holds it out into the hallway and shakes his head. There’s no indication of what they might find at the end of either hallway so Dokuga shrugs and heads to the right. Before he follows him, Tetsujo glances back at the room and a smile tugs at his lips when he sees that there’s nothing there. Of course there isn’t. The place is empty – they wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t. His eye drifts upwards and he sees the pale form of a woman on the ceiling, long black hair dangling down and mouth hanging open in a silent scream.
“DOKUGA!” He yelps, fumbling with the candle and staggering backwards as he tries not to drop it.
“What, Tetsujo?”
“There’s a fucking ghost on the ceiling!” Tetsujo points through the doors, his voice shaking.
Dokuga sticks his head around the door and looks up. “There’s nothing here.”
“You’re kidding me,” Tetsujo groans, putting a hand on his shoulder to peek round and find that the ghost is nowhere to be seen. He knows he saw it. A woman, emaciated and with greying skin, wearing a white nightgown and with tangled black hair. Screaming with a mouth stretched wider than ought to be possible. “It was there, I swear.”
“Are you trying to mess with me, Tetsujo?”
“What?”
Dokuga shrugs his hand away and turns to face him, holding his candle at an angle so that the wax doesn’t drip down onto his skin. It drips onto the floor instead. “Is this a joke?”
“What—no. I was sure I saw something. Before, as well. There’s people in here. I think this place might be—”
“Haunted?” Dokuga interrupts, rolling his eyes. “This is just like what you and Ushishimada pulled back in Berith.”
Tetsujo winces. When they lived in Berith with no electricity and nothing to do but work all the time, they got bored pretty easily. Tetsujo especially. He and Ushishimada had thought it would be funny to convince Ton that the house was haunted. It was funny. They would swear that they saw shadowy figures lurking in corners and hiding behind darkened doorways. Ton was terrified and almost took Dokuga’s eye out with a knife when he thought he was alone in the house and happened to spot him walking out of a dark room. Dokuga gathered them all in the kitchen that night and told Ton definitively that there were no ghosts and Tetsujo and Ushishimada had to stop, now. They did stop, but Tetsujo still thinks that it was pretty funny.
That’s not what’s happening now, though. He wouldn’t mess with Dokuga like that. Especially not after they’ve lost everyone else and doing so would just remind them of what they used to have. He genuinely saw something. Three somethings.
“It’s not a joke, Dokuga,” he says.
“It’s not funny.”
“I’m telling you the truth.” Tetsujo frowns at him.
“Just come on. Let’s find these plants.” Dokuga turns and heads off down the hall before Tetsujo can reply, leaving a trail of wax as he goes. The candles are red, so it looks a little like blood.
Tetsujo doesn’t risk looking back over his shoulder. He doesn’t want to risk seeing a ghost again and then Dokuga not believing him. Instead he keeps his eyes on Dokuga ahead of him, his dark hair shining in the candlelight and the soft, deliberate way he places his feet. His gaze drifts up the long lines of his legs and he thinks about the way Dokuga used to fight. Like a dancer, legs stretching into a split to kick an opponent or spinning through the air to dodge blasts of smoke. When he watched him fight like that the worry would sometimes lift for just a second and there would be nothing there but pure excitement.
It always came back, of course. And now he’s worried again, because he almost can’t believe that Dokuga thought he would mess with him like that. Surely he knows by now that he would never do that to him. Surely he knows by now that he would never hurt him.
Maybe not. Tetsujo sighs and looks down at the trail of red wax. Maybe that gulf between them is wider than he thought. Maybe Dokuga doesn’t know him as well as he knows Dokuga.
They round a corner into more darkness and Tetsujo makes the mistake of looking back. The woman is there again, standing in her white nightgown and lifting a skeletal arm to point at him, her eyes glassy and unseeing, her hair lank and tangled.
“There!” He shouts, yanking Dokuga’s arm before the ghost can disappear.
“Tetsujo!” Dokuga pulls his arm free and glares first into the darkness and then back at him. “There’s nothing there!”
“There—” he blinks. The ghost is gone. Of course the ghost is gone. “It was there,” he says in disbelief. “The same one that was on the ceiling. It pointed at me.”
“Tetsujo.” Dokuga scowls at him. “I said that it’s not funny. Stop trying to remind me of Berith.”
“I’m not—” Tetsujo pauses. “Why do you think I’d do that?”
“I don’t know, Tetsujo. Just stop it.”
“Dokuga. I’m not fucking with you.” Tetsujo clenches his fist. “You—you seriously think that low of me? You think I’d try and remind you of everything we’ve lost just for some shitty joke?”
Dokuga opens his mouth and Tetsujo thinks he’s going to object – no, I’d never think that of you. I know you’d never try and hurt me like that – but then he closes it and doesn’t say a thing. He just lets out a sigh and shrugs. He doesn’t try to deny it. He doesn’t try to defend himself. He just stares blankly at Tetsujo, the reflection of the flame flickering in his eyes.
His mind drags him back in time to those weeks they spent in En’s mansion, following the orders of the boss and carving a bloody path through the world of magic users. They were in the aquarium – because En was the sort of guy who had a whole aquarium in his house – and Dokuga was watching the jellyfish. Tetsujo had followed him in there after Natsuki’s magic had emerged because he knew the truth by then about Risu. He’d stood beside him in the glowing blue and purple light of the tank and asked him what he was going to do.
“I want to believe in the boss one more time,” Dokuga had said, eyes closed, leaning forward against the tank. Tetsujo had heard the pain in his voice. He’d heard the desperate need for him to be able to trust the man he’d spent his life following, emulating, idolising. He’d put his arm around his shoulder and told him that yes, they could put their trust in the boss.
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in the boss. He did – he always did – but he also knew that there was a not so insignificant chance that believing in him was the wrong thing to do. And yet he still did it, because it was what Dokuga wanted to do, and he always believed in Dokuga.
“Dokuga,” Tetsujo says slowly. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“This place isn’t haunted, Tetsujo,” says Dokuga.
“I definitely saw something—” he shakes his head. “That’s not the point. Dokuga, why would you just assume I’m messing with you? You think I’d do that to you?”
“In Berith—”
“In Berith we were trying to have fun because there was nothing else to do while we waited for the boss to come back from who knows where!” He clenches his fist tighter, nails digging into the palm of his hand. “Oh, wait. You knew where. Just because we kept ourselves entertained by teasing Ton about ghosts it doesn’t mean that I’d try and make you feel bad about— about losing them.”
“Losing them,” Dokuga says, closing his eyes. “I didn’t lose them.”
“No, you didn’t lose them.” Tetsujo is speaking without thinking, speaking without feeling because he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. “We lost them, Dokuga. We lost everyone. The boss, the Cross-Eyes. Natsuki. Ton. Saji. Ushishimada. We lost them, not just you.”
“Tetsujo—” Dokuga’s eyes snap open and catch the light again.
“Tell me,” Tetsujo says, taking a step closer to him, “all those months we spent living on the streets of Hole, when I changed your bandages and cleaned your wounds and we both had to deal with what had happened to us, did that mean anything to you?”
Darkness is at Dokuga’s back, barely held at bay by the light of the dripping candle, and Tetsujo thinks of when they were dematerialised by Shou and they sank down into the thick black depths of the lake of refuse. Wax trickles down over Dokuga’s fingers and he winces.
“It means something to me, Tetsujo,” he says, his voice level.
“Does it?” Tetsujo’s voice wavers. He can’t do this. He didn’t even know that this anger was in him and now it’s boiling up in his throat and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “Because to me it doesn’t seem like anything’s changed. You’re still pushing me away like you always did.”
“This is because I didn’t believe you about the ghosts?” Dokuga’s voice drops low and he tilts the candle away from his hand, the wax hardened onto his skin.
“Yeah, Dokuga.” Tetsujo takes another step closer, both of them encircled by the candle’s glow. Dokuga doesn’t shy away from his glare, meeting it with a grim set to his jaw. “I told you I saw something, and you didn’t believe me. You thought the worst of me. You don’t—you just think I’m some kid, don’t you? That I’m not on your level.” He can feel the sting of pain in the palm of his hand where he’s broken the skin, can feel the wet stickiness of blood. “It was always you and the boss, and now he’s gone and you think it’s just you, alone, because you can’t even see that I’m at your side. That I’ve always been at your side.”
“I know you have,” Dokuga whispers.
“Do you?” Tetsujo’s right up in front of him now, their bodies inches apart. Love and fury roils in his chest like a storm and he wonders what Dokuga would do if he hit him. Dodge, probably, with that dancer’s agility of his. He wonders what he’d do if he grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed him. Push him away, and not just because Tetsujo would die if he did that. “Do you, Dokuga? Because it still feels like you’re just staring out at nothing and hoping you’ll see Kai.”
“Kai.”
“The boss.” It isn’t lost on him that Dokuga won’t say his name. He won’t think of him as that person – the monster bent on annihilating all those who he believed wronged him, the being spawned from humanity’s collective hatred and sorrow – but only as the boss, the one who’d saved them from a long slow death in Hole and raised them up to be something more. “You don’t know that I’m here by your side because the only one you want there is him.”
“Don’t say that.” Dokuga grabs his wrist and lifts his hand into the light, pushing his fist open with his thumb and gritting his teeth when he sees the smears of blood on his skin. “You’re all I have left.”
“And you’re all I have left,” Tetsujo says, snatching his hand away. “So why am I the only one who acts like it?”
Dokuga stares down at the blood on his fingers and then back up at Tetsujo and he looks so sad that Tetsujo thinks his heart might break. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He never knows what he’s thinking. Maybe once upon a time he did know – back when they were kids, when their very survival depended on it – but not anymore. Not since Dokuga put that wall between them and kept building it taller and taller.
“Tetsujo—” he starts, but as he does the ghost peers over his shoulder with her jaw hanging open and gapes at Tetsujo, her blind eyes shimmering wetly and dried blood crusting at the edges of her chapped lips. She lifts her arm and points a finger at him.
“Ghost!” Tetsujo yells and points right back at her.
“What?” Dokuga looks at the ghost and then back at Tetsujo with a scowl back on his face. “There’s nothing there!”
How can he not see it when it’s right next to him? Tetsujo blinks and when he does the ghost disappears, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was there. Probably Dokuga can’t see the ghosts because he doesn’t want to see the ghosts. Dokuga only sees what he wants to see, whether that’s a boss who wants the best for them and gives a shit about them or a house that isn’t haunted. He shakes his head and sighs, sticking his hand in his pocket and pulling out all but one of the remaining candles and holding them out to Dokuga.
“Fine,” he says, “there’s nothing there. There was never anything there. Let’s split up. We’ll find whatever plants we can and meet back at the entrance when we’re done.”
“I—”
“It’ll be quicker anyway. I’ll go back this way.”
Before Dokuga can answer, Tetsujo thrusts the candles into his hand and turns on his heel, walking away down the creaking floorboards of the hallway and leaving Dokuga alone in the darkness.
*
“Hey, Kaiman?”
He turns and looks back at her over his shoulder as he deposits a stack of dirty plates in the sink from the customers who came in for breakfast.
“How do you think they’re getting on?”
Kaiman considers this as he squeezes dish soap into the water and starts cleaning. “Hmm,” he says, head tilted in consideration. “It didn’t take long for us to start getting chased by ghosts. I bet they’re falling into each other’s arms by now.”
“When should we go and get them?” Nikaido leans back against the counter and looks up at the clock. They might not have even finished watering the plants yet.
“Give it time,” Kaiman says, “let the house do its job.”
“I feel kind of bad.” She smiles. “You fainted.”
“No I didn’t,” Kaiman lies quickly. “Besides, I think those two can handle a couple of ghosts.”
“You think?”
“Of course!” He grins at her. “What could a couple of ghosts do to the two of them?”
*
Dokuga watches Tetsujo vanish into the darkness like he’s floating away into the depths of the lake, and his feet are rooted to the floor so that he can’t follow. The candles in his hand clack together and he slips them into his pocket, holding his lit one at an angle so that the wax doesn’t drip on his skin. He can hear the sound of it falling to the floor, a spattering of tiny red droplets at his feet. He looks down at it and thinks that it looks like blood.
The sound of Tetsujo’s footsteps recedes and Dokuga is left alone. His breath catches in his throat for a second when he realises he hasn’t been alone since the Central Department Store when he ran away from En and Ebisu and saw the boss carrying the disembodied heads of Saji and Ushishimada. Tetsujo’s been at his side ever since.
He grits his teeth. He knows for a fact that there are no ghosts here. He looked over at exactly where Tetsujo pointed every time and didn’t see a thing. He doesn’t think that Tetsujo could have been mistaking something else for a ghost either. There’s no furniture to assume malignant shapes in the shadows. He would have heard footsteps if there was another person in here with them. Kaiman and Nikaido would have warned them if there was something wrong with the house that could cause hallucinations. No, the only logical explanation is that Tetsujo was messing with him, and that pisses him off because it’s still too soon to pretend that everything’s okay.
He turns around and keeps walking down the hall. They’ll do what Tetsujo suggested, find the plants and meet back up by the entrance and maybe by then Tetsujo will have realised that his joke wasn’t funny. It wasn’t even funny the first time in Berith, when it really was harmless. Now that Ton and Ushishimada are both dead it’s even less amusing. He doesn’t want to be reminded of back then, doesn’t want to think about the choices he made and what he could have done differently.
What could he have done differently, though?
The boss saved them. They would have died out there in Hole if it wasn’t for him. He had fled back there with Risu’s curse on his tail and saved Dokuga again by telling him not to fight it. There was nothing else he could have done. He managed the Cross-Eyes as best he could and when the boss came back they did as he said, just as they always had done.
As he walks silently along the hallway and turns a corner, he thinks of what Tetsujo yelled at him.
You knew where.
But what good would it have done to tell them the truth about Risu? They wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. Risu was dead and the curse had one target. They couldn’t help the boss fight him without painting targets on their own backs.
We lost them. Not just you.
But it wasn’t Tetsujo’s fault that they died. Dokuga was the one who was supposed to be in charge. Their blood is on his hands, not Tetsujo’s. Tetsujo tried to save Saji and Ushishimada, even when it meant turning his back on the boss. Dokuga was the one who failed at that. It’s not the same, because Tetsujo may have lost his friends but Dokuga was the one who killed them.
You’re still pushing me away like you always did.
Dokuga pushes the thought away and holds his candle up to see how much it’s melted. He puts a hand against the wall as he walks, hoping that he’ll be able to feel some damn windows in this place so he can get some real light in, but it’s just a long wooden wall that seems to stretch out into infinity.
Annoying as it is, this endless hallway manages to take his mind off the argument with Tetsujo, because now he’s thinking about how weird Kasukabe’s house is. He speeds up, the flame of the candle wavering as he walks, and thinks that even though Kasukabe’s house looked massive from the outside, it shouldn’t really contain any hallways that are this long.
It must stretch out far to the back. That’s the only explanation. Though it doesn’t explain why Kasukabe needs such a ridiculous house. It turns out Kaiman wasn’t just being lazy – this is genuinely a pain in the ass and he has yet to see a single plant.
Finally, he thinks he sees some dim light up ahead. He’s right, coming to a door set into one of the walls leading to a small room with a window in it. There’s a blind pulled down over it with a picture of a flower painted on. Funny. Dokuga rolls his eyes and gives it a tug, but the blind won’t budge. He can feel dust on the sill. It must be stuck.
It’s light enough in here that he can at least take a moment to look around. This room, unlike the one they found before, isn’t empty.
There’s a small bookshelf along one wall and a chair in the corner. Maybe this is some kind of reading room. Still no plants. It looks like the books are about plants, though; Dokuga squats down in front of it and holds his candle up to the spines to check the titles. It’s a pointless activity, because he doesn’t know what nightshade or hemlock mean, but the fact that there are books about plants does suggest that there will actually be plants somewhere in this house. Dokuga stands and turns to the door and swears in shock when he sees Tetsujo standing there silently.
“Shit, Tetsujo,” he mutters, heart racing. “Don’t scare me like that. I said it wasn’t funny.”
Tetsujo lifts his chin and his face is illuminated by Dokuga’s candle; he’s not holding his anymore, Dokuga realises. He takes a step towards him and the light shines on the crosses over his eyes—
No. They’re not crosses. Tetsujo’s crosses have been replaced by cuts. One vertical and one horizontal over each empty eye socket. Tetsujo’s mouth drops open like he’s going to scream but no sound comes out.
“What the fuck?” Dokuga takes a step back as blood starts to trickle down Tetsujo’s face like tears. It drips down his chin and seeps into the front of his shirt and his legs shake as he walks towards Dokuga, lifting his arm to—to what? To hit him? Dokuga blinks and then Tetsujo is gone.
He leans back against the bookshelf and slows his breathing. There’s no explanation for that. Tetsujo was there, and then he vanished. He thinks of Shou’s magic dematerialising them. He thinks of sorcerers leaping through doors in a split second. But Tetsujo can’t do magic.
And was that even Tetsujo?
I told you I saw something, and you didn’t believe me.
He shakes his head. It must be some kind of illusion. The darkness is messing with him, making him see things that aren’t there. There are no ghosts. He goes back out into the hallway and holds the candle ahead of him as he keeps on walking, one hand on the wall again to feel the way ahead.
Tetsujo must have been seeing things as well before. The shadows in this house are so oppressive, clinging to the corners and the walls and pushing down on him. If he genuinely wasn’t trying to mess with Dokuga, then that’s what it must be. He wonders what Tetsujo was seeing. Did he see Dokuga, with his eyes cut out and crosses carved into his skin? Did he see him open-mouthed and screaming? No – if that was what he’d seen then he would’ve known he was hallucinating, because Dokuga was right there with him. He must have been seeing someone who was already gone.
Natsuki. Ton. Saji. Ushishimada.
Dokuga grimaces. Tetsujo must have seen one of them. Seen them with their mutilated faces and blood pouring down from their wounds. No wonder he was so upset.
You didn’t believe me. You thought the worst of me.
He could never think that Tetsujo was being deliberately malicious. He’d thought that he was joking around to try and make this tedious errand fun, to try and make Dokuga smile, even though it’s not something that ever would have made him smile. Ignorance, not cruelty. He didn’t think the worst of him, but he thought—
You just think I’m some kid, don’t you? That I’m not on your level.
No.
Dokuga shakes his head and curses under his breath. No, he doesn’t think that. Of course he thinks of Tetsujo as his equal. They grew up on the streets together. They trained together. They learned to survive together. Tetsujo has saved his life over and over, he’s not just some kid.
So why didn’t he tell him about Risu?
“Stop it,” Dokuga hisses to himself. “It wouldn’t have done any good to tell him. Any of them. It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
He turns a corner and comes to the end of the hallway, walking through an open door into a room not unlike the one where they’d found the candles. It has a high ceiling with beams, and Dokuga lifts his candle high to see if he can see any ghosts up there like Tetsujo had claimed he did. There’s nothing. The floor of the room is made up of tatami mats and in the middle is a low coffee table with two empty mugs set on it. Dokuga crouches and picks one of them up. There’s dried coffee stains at the bottom; Kasukabe must’ve forgotten to clean before he left for his vacation. He sets it back down with a sigh and makes a slow circuit of the room, already knowing that he isn’t going to find any plants in here. Even if he did, he doesn’t have anything to water them with.
This place is a dead end. There are no doors in this room and he didn’t see any others leading off the hallway. He’s going to have to go back. Maybe he can find Tetsujo and tell him that he saw something as well. The darkness is getting to them both.
Tetsujo’s standing in the doorway again when he turns to leave.
Dokuga takes a cautious step towards him, lifting his candle to see if his eyes have been cut out again. He’s completely hidden in shadow, though Dokuga can tell it’s Tetsujo just from his silhouette; the broadness of his shoulders and the strength in his arms from training with a sword, the way he leans his weight on one leg, the messiness of his hair that needs cutting.
It’s not real, though. When Dokuga gets close enough to him the light washes over Tetsujo and he vanishes just like the rest of the shadows.
“Shit,” he mutters.
Before he goes back out into the hall he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fresh candle, lighting it from the stub of the other before blowing it out and tossing it into one of the empty coffee cups. His hand stings from where the wax has been dripping on it despite his best efforts, but he’d rather take the pain than the darkness.
He leaves the room behind and his mind drifts back to Tetsujo.
You can’t even see that I’m at your side. That I’ve always been at your side.
He was wrong to say that. Dokuga doesn’t know what he would have done if Tetsujo hadn’t been by his side for all those months after the battle. Probably he would have just died. He definitely would have just died. Tetsujo’s the only reason he even came out of the Central Department Store alive. If he hadn’t been there then Dokuga would have been consumed by that thing that was the boss or he would have sunk into the sludge and drowned in it. It’s only because of Tetsujo that En deigned to save them. And he kept on saving him when any sensible person would have abandoned him.
The hallway stretches on and on. Dokuga speeds up to a jog, the light of the candle flickering wildly as he makes his way down it and it doesn’t take long for him to realise that something’s wrong.
He should’ve passed the room with the bookshelf by now. He should have found his way back to the sliding doors by now. He hadn’t walked that far, but the monotonous hallway seems to have no end.
Fucking Kasukabe.
He should have known that there would be something up with his house. He should have guessed that he’d made it into some kind of twisted labyrinth designed to torment him. Is this because Dokuga never went to talk to him? Had he somehow realised that Dokuga had considered it and then changed his mind? Maybe Kasukabe decided that he needed to intervene and set this up as a punishment.
“Kasukabe!” He shouts, because if this is his doing then he might not even really be on vacation. Kaiman said he was on a research trip. Maybe he is, and this is the research trip. Dokuga and Tetsujo are the subjects. Two people clinging to each other because they have nothing else left who can’t deal with their feelings.
Dokuga’s socked foot skids on the floor and he thrusts his arms out to stop from falling. As he does so he drops his candle. It clatters to the floor and rolls away and Dokuga looks up to see that it’s landed at Tetsujo’s feet, blood dripping down onto the wax from his missing eyes. No, this isn’t Kasukabe, he thinks just before the flame gutters out, stranding him in the endless void that makes him feel so hollow and lost.
When he hears the blood drip down onto the floor and hears Tetsujo's ragged breathing, he stands up and runs.