As he lay there in his painkiller-induced haze, Mahiru dreamed.

He was in a vast, empty space, so vast and empty that he could see no walls, nor a ceiling, only the same shapeless white drawing on into infinity all around him. His feet were on solid ground, but it was as white and structureless as everything else, and his body cast no shadow despite the bright light coming from every direction.

Was he dead? Was this the afterlife?

Mahiru looked around. There was no landscape, no wind, no sign of life anywhere around him. He took a cautious step. His foot made a clean sound that echoed away into infinity.

He took another step.

"Hello?"

Again there was an echo, though there were no walls to reflect his voice. It was like shouting in a large, quiet hall. Everything was somehow dulled, yet strangely amplified.

"You called?"

Mahiru looked down. Right in front of him, only a step away, a small creature had materialized out of the nothingness. It resembled some kind of doll, or a stuffed toy, some kind of cat perhaps. All black and stitched and angled, a shadow in this world made entirely of light.

"Did I?" Mahiru answered. "Where are we?"

"Nowhere," said the creature, "and everywhere. We're inside your mind."

Its voice sounded strange. Distorted. Not quite human, though it was using human words.

"Inside my mind?" Mahiru repeated.

But the creature only began to bounce all around him.

"You sure keep a lot in here!" it chimed. "Who'd have thought such a tidy person would sweep so much under the rug?"

Mahiru frowned at it. "What...?"

"Kind, kind Mahiru," the creature mocked. "Always so sweet, so helpful to everyone! Always so nice and reliable. The perfect class president, the perfect disciplinary committee head, the perfect student, the perfect friend! Isn't that right, Shirota Mahiru?"

Mahiru backed away.

"What the hell!" he burst out. "What are you even going on about? Put it simply!"

"Simple this, simple that. But you aren't simple, are you?" The creature bounced onto his head, dangling down in his face, its upside-down grin eerie and mocking. "Because you're human, and human beings are never simple."

"Get off me!"

Reaching atop his head, Mahiru flung down the cackling creature, which only gave a hissing laugh. "I don't know what you're trying to tell me," he said. "Be more straightforward about it! Simple is best!"

"You're a grown-up now, Mahiru," its voice came from all sides. "Welcome to the adult world. Happy Birthday!"

All around Mahiru giant candles lit up. It was like standing in a forest of candles, the creature bouncing off, slowly disappearing into the same nothingness from which he had come. In the spot where it had been there was now a birthday cake.

"Blow out the candles," its disembodied voice drifted back to him, "and make a wish."

Mahiru looked around, but it was gone.

Sighing, he knelt down and blew out the candles on the cake. He didn't know what to wish for. So he only waited.

"My cake..."

The voice came from behind. It was a child's voice, unfamiliar, but soft and quiet and so sad that Mahiru couldn't help spinning around.

Before him stood Tsurugi, Tsurugi as he might have been when he was little. He was pale and much too skinny for his age, dressed in old, battered clothes that were too big for him. His hands were half hidden behind the sleeves of his jacket, his nose buried into the large, tattered scarf wrapped loosely around his neck.

"My cake," he said again, looking positively distraught. "That was my birthday cake..."

Mahiru didn't understand what was happening, but he went with it, just to stop seeing that sad face.

"Hey, it's okay," he said. "I didn't eat it, I just blew out the candles. We can light them again, you know?"

All at once the sadness disappeared from Tsurugi's face, and he lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah! Look." Kneeling down, Mahiru picked up a candle and held it against the flame of the tree-sized candles all around them, and within a moment it was flickering merrily. "Now we just do that with all the others and then you can blow out the candles!"

Tsurugi's eyes were wide. "And make a wish?"

"Of course!"

Tsurugi beamed. Quickly Mahiru lit all the other candles and then motioned to the cake. "It's all yours."

Taking a deep breath, Tsurugi blew out all the candles on the cake in one go.

"I made a wish," he said.

Mahiru smiled. "That's great."

"Want to hear it?"

Mahiru laughed. "Better not," he said, ruffling the little boy's hair. "They say that wishes don't come true if you say them out loud."

Tsurugi hung his head.

"You want to tell me?"

Tsurugi glanced up. Then he shuffled his feet and shrugged.

"I don't care," he said.

"But you look so disappointed."

"I don't care," he repeated. "If you tell me not to tell you, I won't tell you."

Mahiru gave a lopsided smile.

"Hey, it's just a silly superstition," he said. "If you want to tell me, tell me."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"And the wish will still come true?"

Mahiru grinned. "I'm sure it will!"

Tsurugi nodded.

"I wished for happiness," he said.

"Happiness?"

Tsurugi nodded again.

"Just that?"

"And... to never grow up." Tsurugi trailed a finger along a candle on his cake. "Just like Peter Pan. So I can always stay a child and have fun and never worry about things, ever."

Mahiru smiled sadly. It was as if this child version of Tsurugi could already guess what lay ahead for him, or maybe this Tsurugi wasn't actually a child, he only seemed like one before Mahiru's eyes. Either way no child should be saying things like that, he thought. Children, from all his experience, always seemed so eager to grow up and become adults.

"You can have fun and not worry as an adult too, you know," he said warmly. "Growing up isn't all bad."

But Tsurugi shook his head. "I don't want it."

Mahiru didn't know what to say to that, and silence fell. Tsurugi sat in thought, then suddenly he reached under his jacket and pulled out a black box, shiny and smooth and not made from any material Mahiru knew. There was a large metal lock on it. Tsurugi held it up and pushed it towards him.

"I got this a long time ago," he said. "I've always kept it with me, but... I don't remember what's in it." He hung his head. "And I think I lost the key."

Mahiru took the box in his hands, shook it gently. There was the dull rattle of something inside, but he couldn't tell what it was. Then he placed it in his pocket with utmost care.

"If you've lost the key," he said, "thinking simply, why don't we look for it together?"

And as he took the little boy's hand in his own, guiding him just as Uncle Tooru had guided him once, the landscape around them changed. The forest of candles disappeared. Everything was smooth again, but for some reason it didn't feel as empty as it had before.

Then, little by little, images flashed past them. Shadows, silhouettes, the faces of people he half recognized. Many of them were blurry. Mahiru wondered if Tsurugi could see them too, but the child didn't seem to be reacting to them at all.

Then he glanced down at their linked hands, and suddenly he, too, seemed to be as young as the Tsurugi next to him.

Hey, you! What's your name again?

It was Mahiru's own voice as a little boy, in kindergarten maybe. Other children ran around with him, but their faces were blurry while the image of his child self was clear, if semi-transparent. He was waving at another child standing away from the group—Koyuki? And wasn't the little boy next to him Ryuusei?

Why don't you join us?

Right, he thought. That was how he had been as a child.

The lonely child joined them, and the shadows played together. Suddenly Mahiru understood Tsurugi a little better. Everything had been so easy back then, he thought. He had simply been able to play with anyone, not even needing to know their names, but even if he had needed to play by himself sometimes, it had been fine. No matter what he did, where he went, it had always been okay. He had always felt safe. Because...

Mahiru!

A figure came walking towards his child self, a figure Mahiru would have known anywhere, anytime, even after not seeing her in so many years. Her hand was extended, gentle, and little Mahiru took it with a smile. Not yet understanding how precious this moment was. Not yet realizing how soon this would be gone.

Back then, he thought, he had been able to do anything without a fear or care in the world because she had been there. Because that hand had been there, reaching towards his, always finding him without fail. Because he had known that, at the end of the day, his name would be called.

The scene changed. Mahiru's shadowy self was barely older now, tears on his face, kneeling before his mother's picture at her funeral. Mahiru swallowed. But even as he fought back the surge of pain, his eyes fell into the crowd onto a figure that looked almost as clear as he was.

Uncle Tooru was there too, lonely, heartbroken, just like Mahiru himself. Mourning his sister just like Mahiru mourned his mother. Both of them had lost their closest family on that day, Mahiru realized. Uncle Tooru, like Mahiru, had been lonely. And that was why he had reached out. That was why he had extended his hand to Mahiru, to relieve both their loneliness.

And even if it wasn't his mother's anymore, there had still been a trusted hand and a voice that called his name.

As a child, Mahiru thought, everything had been an adventure. Everything had been simple, naïve, with few worries and few responsibilities except for the make-believe ones of fighting aliens or saving the world. But as an adult, adventures were scary. The number of names one had to remember had grown.

And suddenly it was his job to extend his hand to others, just like his family had done for him back then.

So he had. Towards his classmates. Towards so many people.

And then, at last, towards Kuro.

Because despite all his friends deep down he, too, had been lonely. And so had Kuro. That was why people reached out to others. To relieve their own loneliness. To be with others... to be happier.

Well, that, and because he felt like it was the right thing to do.

That was why he did a lot of things, he realized. Because they felt like the right thing to do. Because, when making a decision, he always asked himself if this action was something he could be proud of. And turning away, not helping when he had the chance to help, wasn't something he could have been proud of. This mindset had helped him countless times when he could otherwise have turned astray.

All because he had wanted his actions to be worthy of pride.

Because he wanted to be worthy of pride.

He wanted others to be proud of him. His uncle. His classmates. His friends. His teachers. But more than anything, more than all these combined, he had wanted to be someone he himself could be proud of.

That was why he was here now. Helping little Tsurugi even though he had no idea where to look, how to search for this key that had gone with the mystery box. Because he couldn't have been proud of himself for refusing to help.

But could he truly be proud of himself if his help was worthless?

Mahiru didn't know if it was his own mind thinking it or if the small creature had returned to speak inside his head. Just for a moment everything around him wavered. He couldn't see Tsurugi on his hand. Instead he seemed to be looking at another child, a child he had never seen before but recognized at a glance.

"Kuro?"

The little boy said something, but Mahiru couldn't hear his words. The image buzzed and flickered, dark splotches staining his vision like ink splashing on a glass surface. He couldn't feel Kuro's hand anymore. Mahiru stumbled forward, but the space around him was empty.

There was Kuro again. Grown up this time. Lying on the ground... his head... blood...

And then, suddenly, his mother...

"What's wrong?"

The image flickered off. There was Tsurugi again, hanging onto his hand, looking up at him with frightened eyes.

"Nothing," Mahiru said instinctively, shaking off the image and offering a reassuring smile. "Let's keep looking."

Mahiru, Mahiru, Mahiru...

There it was again, that creature's voice. Not coming from anywhere. It felt like it was inside his head.

Mahiru ignored it.

What a hero you are, the voice continued to mock him. What a kind and selfless person.

Mahiru tried not to let his irritation show on his face. What? he asked the creature in his head.

The cat-like thing only let out something that vaguely resembled a laugh. In Mahiru's ears it sounded more like a rattle, a hiss, the sickly cough of someone who hadn't laughed in a thousand years and had forgotten how to do it.

What do you want? Mahiru tried again. Stop bothering me. I've got more important stuff to do.

The creature laughed again.

Like what, I wonder?

Mahiru stopped short.

Like promising to help and then getting in trouble? Like having others cover for you after you drag them into it?

He gritted his teeth.

Is that something to be proud of?

Shut up, he tried to say. It was weak even to him.

Are you proud of yourself, Mahiru?

Mahiru walked faster. Tsurugi stumbled along beside him. On each side shadows began to appear, hazy at first, then ever clearer. Mahiru tried not to look at them. He pretended not to see them. He didn't know what they were. They weren't there at all.

Will you not stop for them? the voice chimed.They look like they need your help.

Stop it—

"The key!"

Without warning Tsurugi tore himself from his hand and ran. Mahiru took off after him. On each side the images came closer. Some of them looked so alive that Mahiru dodged them, afraid of colliding with something solid if he didn't.

"Tsurugi-san!" he called. "Wait!"

The little boy only ran faster. Mahiru, meanwhile, grew slower and slower. All around him the figures seemed to reach for him, slowing him down as he dodged them, forcing himself to look only at Tsurugi. He couldn't let himself be sidetracked. If he did—

"Mahiru!"

Kuro.

Why was he here? He shouldn't be here. Was he trying to save him again? Mahiru didn't need saving. He wasn't in trouble. He would be fine. There was no need for Kuro to get himself hurt again just to protect him.

Against his instincts, against his resolve, Mahiru turned around.

Kuro came to a stop not far from him, battered, breathless, bleeding from many wounds. He looked as if he had come through a horrible battle just to get to him. Mahiru didn't want to know if the blood spattered on his clothes was all his own.

"Why are you here?" he shouted to him. "I'm fine! Go back!"

And then it dawned on him. Too late did he realize what he had just done.

"Tsurugi-san?" he shouted as he turned back towards him, but the child was already lost from his sight. "Tsurugi-san! Where are you?"

No answer. Mahiru didn't wait any longer. He took off running.

"Tsurugi-san!" he kept calling as he ran, weaving through the crowd of shadows, barely able to see ahead. "Tsurugi-san, wait!"

"Mahiru!"

Kuro's voice again. He was catching up. Soon he would be beside Mahiru. He shouldn't. He had been hurt enough already. He had barely survived the last time. If anything went wrong again this time—

"Go back, Kuro!" he yelled without daring to turn his head. "I can't let you get hurt for me again!"

The crowd thickened, then abruptly stopped. Mahiru almost rejoiced, then he realized why there were no people here. He had almost stumbled headfirst onto a road.

A cold feeling clamped around him, a grim, chilling premonition.

"Tsurugi-san!"

The screeching of tires in his ears, delayed, like an echo. Mahiru didn't care anymore. He ran. Right onto the road, between the cars, no longer caring. He knew what had happened. He knew what had happened before he saw it.

"No," he gasped out as he fell to his knees beside the small, motionless body. "Hey, are you alive?" he called to the small Tsurugi. "Tsurugi-san. Hey!"

No answer. Tsurugi's body was limp in his arms, limp and cold.

"No—"

"Watch out, Mahiru!"

Mahiru lifted his head. This voice... it was Kuro. He knew it had to be. But just for a moment, a split second, it had sounded like...

Not again.

The sky was dark. Overcast, the clouds a grim dark gray even though it was daytime. Raining. It was raining...

Car headlights reflected on the asphalt.

The screeching of tires over the wet ground. A figure leaping in front of him, spreading out both arms. The umbrella flying across the road with a sound that was eerily clear despite all the noise around it.

And Mahiru, frozen in place, six years old once more, unable to do anything as he was saved at the cost of someone else's life.

He didn't hear the crash. He didn't hear anything. But as he stood up and ran over, he couldn't tell if the figure on the ground was still Kuro or his mother.

And then nothing was real.

Mahiru was falling through space and time. The road was gone. The cars were gone. The people were gone, though he could still hear their voices. His savior, whoever it had been, was gone. So was Tsurugi. The only thing he could still see clearly was that umbrella. His mother's umbrella.

Why had he run onto the road that day?

Why had he been frozen in place?

Why hadn't he listened to his mother's warning?

Why hadn't he jumped aside?

And why hadn't he learned his lesson about being rescued by others that day?

"Are you proud of this, Mahiru?"

There was that creature again, floating before him in the nothingness, grinning, still grinning. "Are you proud of being a damsel in distress?" it asked. Its voice was calm now, almost friendly. "Are you proud of needing help and putting others in danger?"

Before he could answer, Mahiru's back hit the ground, and he opened his eyes.

He was greeted by a dull ceiling, white and tiled and sterile and completely featureless. But at least this ceiling was real, a structure he knew, not the vast white emptiness from which he had fallen. The smell of disinfectant hung stinging in the air. His head rested on a pillow, and clean white covers lay spread over him. A dull ache came from his shoulder, and he couldn't move his arm.

The hospital, huh.

Mahiru took a deep breath. This had just been a dream, he told himself. The painkillers had got to him, maybe also the anesthesia, he didn't know what they had done with him while he had been out. Surgery? Probably. They'd had to get the bullet out somehow, he supposed. Minimize the damage.

Was there a doctor nearby? Or anyone?

"You're awake..."

The voice coming from his side was familiar. Mahiru turned his head. Only a few feet away, on the neighboring bed, Tsurugi sat with his back propped against the pillow. He was attached to several tubes and machines Mahiru couldn't make sense of, but his face was unsettlingly clear.

"Yeah," Mahiru said, his voice still coming out raspy and slurred. "What'd I miss?"

Tsurugi ignored his question. "Are you okay?"

Mahiru didn't feel fully okay, but Tsurugi looked worried enough without knowing that much. "Yeah," he said. "I think they patched me up." He cracked a grin. "What about you?"

Tsurugi didn't answer. His eyes ran nervously from side to side as he squirmed, looking eerily like that small, frightened child in Mahiru's dream.

"You don't need to tell me," Mahiru said into the silence. "Did the doctors say anything?"

Tsurugi shook his head. "Not really."

"Better than bad news, I guess."

"Mhm."

Pause.

"Have you heard anything from the others?"

Tsurugi shook his head.

"What time is it, anyway?"

Tsurugi shrugged.

Mahiru sighed. The student council president visibly had a lot of things on his mind, and Mahiru didn't know how to help him. He wasn't sure he could in the first place. This felt like something Tsurugi needed to arrange with himself.

And yet, could he be proud of himself if he didn't at least try?

"Tsurugi-san," he said and then waited for his upperclassman to space back in. "Are you all right?"

He hadn't expected Tsurugi to answer his question, but he did. "I don't know," he said. "It's all so much. Tai-chan. Yumi-chan. And now you, getting hurt protecting me..." He curled in on himself. "Why do they all have to fight?" he asked. "Why can't everyone I care about just get along?"

Mahiru could say a lot of things right now. He could say that sometimes it wasn't possible, that not everyone Tsurugi cared about meant well for him, that sometimes he had to choose a side between those who actually cared about him and those who didn't. But he kept them to himself. Something told him that none of them were what Tsurugi needed to hear.

Instead he said, "Tell me about it."

Tsurugi looked up. "Hm?"

"I know how you feel," he said, and it was true. "You know I'm helping the Servamps, but over summer break I've found out that one of my best friends...my childhood friend...he's on Tsubaki's side. And he's staying there." He smiled sadly. "I hope it won't happen, but sooner or later any of my friends might have to fight against him. Misono, Tetsu, Kuro...maybe even me." A soft laugh escaped him. "I tried to stop it, but sometimes it can't be helped, huh?"

Tsurugi didn't say anything. He just continued to look at him with wide, overly bright eyes. Mahiru had the feeling that this time, finally, his words had made it through to him.

"I still tried, of course," he continued. "But sometimes people are so far gone that they don't listen to words. Or at least they don't listen to the words of just anybody. But that doesn't mean there's no way to get through to them anymore."

"...What did you do?"

Mahiru paused. After all that silence and the monosyllabic responses, he hadn't expected Tsurugi to speak.

"Hm?"

"About Watanuki-kun." Mahiru blinked in surprise, and Tsurugi added, "It's about him, isn't it?"

"Oh, right...you're part of C3. You guys do know everything, huh?" Pulling up his legs, Mahiru tried to shift into a more upright position. "Well...when he first found out I was with the Servamps, he tried to make me fight him...turn me into his enemy. And then he tried to end our friendship. But I hunted him down with Kuro's help and forced him to hear me out."

Tsurugi nodded. Mahiru could tell his words resonated with him. "Forced him to hear you out, huh..."

"Yeah! And we're still friends." Mahiru grinned. "He even hangs out with Ryuusei and Koyuki and me when we have Kuro with us. I don't think they get along, but they don't mind each other that much." He smiled at the mental image. "I just needed to drag him into that conversation he was trying to avoid."

When Tsurugi didn't answer, Mahiru added, "Is there someone you're planning to talk to?"

Tsurugi was quiet, hesitating. His fingers fidgeted with the fabric of the covers.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe."

"Someone you're scared of talking to?"

Tsurugi took a deep breath.

"I guess so," he said. "But if I don't...things might get even worse. So..." He hung his head. "I don't know."

Or you're just not used to making decisions on your own, Mahiru thought sympathetically.

Then, thinking simply, he should help him a little.

"Hey," he said, "do you think that person will listen to you if you make them hear you out?" Tsurugi lifted his head again, and Mahiru added, "Do you think that if you talk to them, that'll change things?"

Tsurugi thought about it. Then he shrugged again.

"I don't know," he said. "The way that person used to be when I was little...maybe. But now, I just don't know." He curled in on himself. "And I don't want to. I'm scared. Someone else do it for me. I can't..."

"But if you don't do it, who will?"

Tsurugi stopped short.

"If you don't talk to that person," Mahiru continued, staring him down, "how can you make sure somebody else will do it? Thinking simply, if you don't talk to them, who else will do it?"

Tsurugi squirmed. "But..."

"It's okay." Mahiru's voice turned gentle. "I know it's scary. But you won't stop being scared until you do it."

"But maybe I really, really, really, really don't want to!"

Mahiru flinched. He had never heard Tsurugi raise his voice before, and yet here he was, the ever-mellow student council president, clenching his fists with frustration and grim, deep-rooted despair.

"Maybe I don't want to be the one to fix this," Tsurugi continued, the resentment in his voice impossible to ignore. "Maybe I don't want to be the responsible one! I don't know how to be responsible! Maybe I'm just sick and tired of people always telling me what to do and disagreeing with each other! If one person I care about says one thing and the other says something else, how am I supposed to decide who's right? How am I supposed to tell who I should listen to or not? They're making me decide again and I've never made a single free decision in my life!"

Tsurugi took a deep breath. "I'm so tired of it all," he said, quieter again now. "I'm not an adult. I don't want to pretend to be one. Can't I go back to being a child? Can't I go back to when everything was still okay?"

Can't I go back to when everyone I care about was still alive?

Mahiru silenced the resonating voice inside his heart. He understood Tsurugi's feelings. And at the same time he knew what to say again.

"But if you don't want people to tell you what to do," he said, "and if you also don't want to decide stuff yourself...doesn't that mean you don't want to do anything?"

Tsurugi squirmed. "Maybe," he admitted. "What about it?"

"But you can't just do nothing."

"I know."

"Doing something doesn't have to be bad, you know," Mahiru added. "Neither does being a grown-up. You can make life nice for yourself as an adult too."

Tsurugi shook his head. "Not me."

"Not alone."

Tsurugi's mouth stood open.

Grinning, Mahiru shifted to plant a hand on his hip on his uninjured side. "You're not alone, Tsurugi-san," he said. "You have lots of friends around you who'd love to help you grow up and become your own person. Freya-san, Kurumamori-senpai, Tsukimitsu-senpai...and me too, you know? And even Kuro. If you need any of us, we're all on your side."

For a long, peaceful moment, Tsurugi looked at ease. Then his face clouded over again. "What about Tai-chan?"

Probably not, Mahiru wanted to say, but something told him Tsurugi wouldn't want to hear the truth so frankly. "I'm not sure," he said instead. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then," Mahiru answered, "it's not the end of the world."

Tsurugi shifted in his bed. His head lay resting on top of the pillows now, his gaze far away, his eyes glazed over and not looking at anything or anyone in the room.

"Yeah," he muttered, so softly Mahiru almost didn't catch it. "I'm starting to feel like it might not be."

The next morning Mahiru was woken by a clamor of voices and footsteps.

"Sir," said an unfamiliar female voice, "please slow down for your own safety. The floor is wet and slippery and—sir?"

Then the door flew open, and in the doorframe stood a figure he'd have recognized anywhere.

"Mahiru," Kuro burst out, hurrying to his side and sitting down by his bed to reach for his arm, feel the bandages on his shoulder and torso. "You okay?"

Sleepy as he still was, Mahiru almost laughed at the sight of Kuro's face, the look of fear and worry that clashed wildly with his composure from last night. "Hey," he said, "I'm not taking that from the guy who got hit in the head with a baseball bat!"

"Pretty big words for a guy who got shot," Kuro replied, his expression returning to normal.

"In the shoulder! You said it yourself, it's not lethal, geez!"

"Doesn't mean it's not bad. Can't deal."

Their eyes met. Mahiru smiled.

"Thanks for worrying about me," he said, brushing a hand against Kuro's arm. "But I think I'll be fine. You said it yourself, this wound wouldn't have killed me unless I lost too much blood."

Kuro didn't answer. He only placed a hand on Mahiru's patched-up wound, carefully but firmly, the warmth of his palm seeping through the layers of bandages. It was obvious that he blamed himself for this injury. Mahiru knew him well enough to tell that.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," he said. "That one was on me for turning back before taking Tsurugi-san to safety. And on Touma-sensei, obviously." His face darkened. "I didn't think he'd do that. A teacher..."

"I...wasn't surprised."

Mahiru blinked.

"This guy's with C3," Kuro said without looking up. "I've bumped into him before...heard stories. I didn't know his full name. People just used to call him the tower."

"What, because he's tall?"

"Not sure. Lots of people go by weird nicknames on the street." Kuro shrugged. "All I know is that the tall guy from C3 is dangerous. I should've expected anything from him."

"Even you couldn't have guessed he'd shoot a student at his own school." The more Mahiru spoke that sentence, the less he comprehended it. It seemed so absurd, so completely out there. "Did he get in trouble?"

Kuro nodded. "Arrested," he said. "It's gonna be all over the news soon."

Mahiru grimaced. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I just hope they won't try making Misono transfer schools again," he said after a pause.

"Don't think they will," Kuro replied. "Enough dark family secrets came out last time."

Mahiru laughed. "That's true."

His smile faded. Silence fell. Mahiru's eyes roamed around. They had relocated him while he slept. He was alone in a room now, under a window. There was no trace of Tsurugi.

"How is Tsurugi-san?" he asked into the pause. "I tried asking him, but he didn't want to talk about it."

Kuro shrugged. "I don't know much either," he said. "The C3 guys seemed worried, but not panicking. So I guess he's gonna live."

Another pause.

"Kuro?"

Kuro looked up. "Hm?"

"Thank you." Mahiru smiled at him. "For last night."

Kuro dropped his gaze. "Can't deal."

"And...I'm sorry."

Kuro stopped short.

"About getting in trouble," Mahiru continued. "I keep saying I'll get better at supporting you, but I just keep ending up in messes and then you have to get me out. I said I'd save Tsurugi-san, but..." He smiled weakly. "In the end you did all the work again."

"That's not true."

Mahiru flinched. From one moment to another Kuro's voice had taken on a tone he had never heard from him before.

"You needed to be there," he said, his shoulders tense, his voice shaking with sudden, barely-repressed anger. "If you hadn't been there, nobody would've taken care of the student council prez while we fought Teacher Long-Legs. If you hadn't been there, nobody would've even tried to bring him to safety. You did the important stuff while I...All I did was fight."

Mahiru swallowed. "Kuro..."

"That guy is right," Kuro continued. "I'm a weapon. All I know is how to fight. You know how to help people." He closed his eyes. "Don't act like that's not important."

Kuro, you're so stupid.

Suddenly Mahiru felt like crying, and he couldn't express why.

"I'm not helping," he said, his voice threatening to break. "I just keep getting into danger and needing to be rescued. And when people do rescue me...they get hurt...or...or..."

He swallowed hard. Kuro's face was blurry before his eyes. His voice was barely a whisper.

"...or worse."

"Mahiru?"

He sounded worried, Mahiru thought, but at least he sounded normal again. That was okay. Then he, too, should go back to normal.

"Don't mind me," he said, wiping a hand across his eyes. "I'm just a bit stirred up. I had a bad dream earlier."

"But you..."

"No, really. Don't worry about me." Mahiru laughed. "How is everyone else?"

Kuro shrugged.

"Hey—"

"You do know you can tell me, right?"

Mahiru closed his mouth. "Hm?"

"You've listened to me when I couldn't deal with stuff." Kuro averted his eyes, his finger tracing patterns in the sterile white covers of Mahiru's bed. "So I can listen to you too."

And now Mahiru wanted to cry again.

"Kuro," he said, "that's really..."

"Not that I'm very good at pep talks," Kuro remarked. "But I can listen. If that helps."

I love you, Kuro. I love you so much.

Smiling, Mahiru trailed a hand over his hair, playing with the long bangs and brushing them out of his eyes. Kuro's dark circles seemed more prominent than usual, he noticed. He wondered if he had slept at all last night.

Part of him, deep down, was tempted to tell him about his dream. About his fear, his guilt, the feeling of failure that had never quite disappeared even after all these years, that drove him to do his best but also haunted him, hovering on the edge of his consciousness, always one small misstep away from taking him over full force. Maybe Kuro would understand that feeling of powerlessness, he thought. Maybe it would help.

Then again he didn't feel like burdening him with that right now. Maybe later, when he had calmed down and Kuro had calmed down and he wouldn't have to worry about adding more weight on Kuro's shoulders. He had had dreams like this before. He could handle them on his own.

"Thank you," he said warmly, and he could only hope Kuro understood how much he meant it. "But don't worry about me. It's nothing I can't handle by myself."

Under his fingers Kuro stiffened.

"Are you sure?" he asked. His voice was so quiet, so frail and hesitant that Mahiru almost changed his mind.

"Absolutely sure," he said. "I'll tell you some other time, okay? When we both have less going on." He grinned. "Deal?"

For a long, slow moment Kuro hesitated, then, reluctantly, he sighed. "Okay," he muttered. "Just...don't lie about not needing help when you do."

Mahiru nodded, deep down hoping that he wasn't doing just that. "Of course."

Tsurugi didn't know for how long he had been lying alone in this room, drifting back and forth between spaced-out wakefulness and uneasy dreams, when a knock on the door brought him back to reality.

"Come in," he said flatly, too tired even to make a joke. It was probably just a nurse anyway, he thought. Here to check on him again, or whatever it was they did.

The door slid open, and in came a very tired but familiar figure.

"Yumi-chan!" Tsurugi exclaimed, suddenly fully awake. He wasn't sure what exactly he felt at the sight of his friend. Were they even still friends? It was all so messy, so complicated. He didn't understand anything anymore.

But when Yumikage collapsed into the chair next to the bed, looking beyond tired but equally relieved, all those mixed emotions disappeared in favor of the joy of seeing him again. He had been so alone in here, Tsurugi realized. And now he wasn't. Yumikage was here.

"Hey," he said, his voice weak and raspy. "How's it going?"

So many people had been asking him that, Tsurugi thought. He looked down along himself. "I'm not sure," he said, trying to smile. "Why have so many people been asking me that?"

Yumikage scoffed at him. "So you're fine."

"Fine as always."

Tsurugi smiled. Yumikage snorted, mustering a lopsided grin. For a moment the mess was forgotten, and everything was normal and okay.

"How's Jun-chan?" Tsurugi asked after a pause, hoping the question wasn't too loaded. He wasn't quite ready to face the harshness of reality again yet.

Thankfully the look on Yumikage's face didn't promise any bad news. "Back at school," he said, "handling the authorities. He's planning to visit as soon as he can."

Tsurugi really, really didn't want to, but he couldn't help asking anyway. "What authorities?"

"The cops and everyone. That second-year kid got shot, remember?"

"Mahiru-kun...yes, of course I do." Damn it, Tsurugi thought, now he had returned to reality after all. He swallowed. The next question was one he dreaded asking more than anything, one he wasn't sure he should ask in the first place.

"So..." he said, "what happened to Tai-chan?"

Yumikage's face was unreadable. "Arrested."

"Right." Tsurugi felt stupid for asking that question. "What else?"

Arrested, huh.

How did he feel about that information? Tsurugi himself didn't know. Part of him was uprooted, terrified. Another part, however, a small, shameful, guilty part...another part was relieved.

Relieved, he supposed, that Touma wasn't getting away with shooting a student. Relieved that he was getting in trouble for something so needlessly cruel and dangerous. If nothing had happened, he would have felt terrible about it. Guilty. Ashamed. Even if none of this was actually his fault.

But a still greater part of him couldn't help wondering what he was supposed to do now.

Touma was gone. For how long, he didn't know. He would be fired from teaching for sure. End up in court, too, possibly find himself in jail. But what would become of Tsurugi? Touma had been his family, his guidance for so long. Life had been simple for him until now. All he had needed to do was listen to everything Touma said.

If Touma wasn't here, who was he supposed to listen to now? One of his friends? All of them? Some other adult? Himself?

And who was he supposed to live with? Would he stay without a guardian from now? Without a family? Would Tsurugi live alone? He still had his dorm room, that was true. And his friends. But...that wasn't the same. He knew it wasn't. He had been there before.

Should he find a new family?

But where was he supposed to find one? It wasn't like they grew on trees—

Mikuni's face flashed before his eyes. Then the entire Alicein family.

I could go back. Without hiding this time.

Tsurugi dismissed the thought. He wouldn't go back there now. Not until Mikuni apologized for his previous behavior. So, never.

But then—

"Worried?"

Tsurugi snapped out of his thoughts to find Yumikage looking at him with grim concern on his face.

He hesitated. Deep down he didn't want to tell the truth: that he was, and that he was also afraid and lost and very, very confused. Yumikage would probably tell him it was a good thing Touma was gone. And maybe he was even right, but Tsurugi didn't want to hear that. Not yet.

"I'm not telling you not to worry, you know."

Tsurugi blinked. Out of all the things Yumikage could have said, he hadn't expected this one.

"I hate to say it," he continued, looking deeply uncomfortable, "but in one thing the old man was right. I'm your friend. I should respect your opinion and not tell you what to do."

"Yumi-chan..."

"So, do whatever you want." It was plain to see how much these words pained Yumikage, and yet he kept talking. "Stay with Touma or leave him. Jun and I are your friends whatever you do." He clicked his tongue, suddenly looking awkward. "Remember what we promised that night at the sleepover?"

Of course Tsurugi did. He had memorized every word, to think about in times when he felt hopeless and alone.

"In good times and bad times," he repeated, their childlike voices echoing in his ears, speaking in unison. "In summer and winter. In fire and in ice. No matter what happens, no matter how far apart we are and no matter what any of us do...we stay friends for life." Tears welled up in his eyes, and his voice trailed off. He swallowed, falling silent to compose himself.

"Now...and forever."

Suddenly he realized what that meant. Their love, their friendship wasn't conditional. They would always be there. No matter what he did. No matter if he was weak or stupid or just plain useless. They wouldn't abandon them. That had been their promise.

Back then he hadn't thought much about it, but...

But it was really not something he should take for granted.

Not everyone was like that, he realized. Not everyone would abandon him if he could no longer keep up with their expectations.

But then, he thought, would Touma?

Despite all that had happened, would he truly be so heartless as to abandon the boy he had rescued?

He hadn't always been like this. There had been a time when he had been more caring, more sympathetic. He had rescued him out of sympathy in the first place, hadn't he? Because they had both been stuck with horrible, abusive families.

Could he truly not get that back?

And suddenly it dawned on him. Suddenly he understood what it was he wanted.

His childhood. He wanted his childhood back.

An impossible wish, he knew. But he wanted to go back to the way things had been when he was little, when Touma had only just taken him in. He had been like a real parent, back then. Carrying him on his shoulders, teaching him things, telling him about the books he was reading on long nights when he couldn't sleep. He hadn't been all bad. At some point along the way he had simply...changed.

Or maybe that was just his memory. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him out of guilt or loyalty or the desperate need for at least an ounce of home and normality. Maybe it had never been really good, and he should just give up hope.

But he didn't want to.

Damn it. He couldn't decide this alone. He needed advice. Guidance. Anything.

"Yumi-chan?"

Yumikage frowned at him, concerned and questioning. "What?"

"About Tai-chan..."

Tsurugi trailed off. He didn't know how to phrase it.

"Do you...think I need to leave him no matter what?"

Of course the answer would be yes, he thought.

"Who knows."

Tsurugi looked up. "Huh?"

"Who knows," Yumikage said. "That's your decision."

"But I can't decide!"

"Just listen to your gut feeling!"

"I've never listened to my gut feeling!" Tsurugi burst out. "Can't you give me some guidance?"

Yumikage paused. His expression turned sympathetic.

"Maybe," he said. "Jun's better at this. But...what do you want?"

Tsurugi took a deep breath.

"I don't want to leave Tai-chan," he said. "Not unless I have to. But I don't want things to stay the way they are either. I guess I want to stay...but only if he goes back to the way he was when I was little."

Yumikage motioned to him. "There's your answer."

"To leave?" Tsurugi swallowed. "Because...he'll never change again?"

"Maybe," Yumikage answered. "Or to talk to him first."

Tsurugi was stunned into silence. Out of all the responses he had never expected this one from Yumikage. It was such a change, such a one-eighty from the view he had expressed last night. Tsurugi wasn't the only one who had come out of the experience changed. Yumikage, too, had come to his senses, though in a different way.

"Talk to him," Tsurugi repeated.

Would that work? Should he risk it?

Talk to Touma Taishi? Tell him what he wanted? Try to make him change instead of the other way around?

Was that still possible?

But if not me, who else?

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. This was something he needed to do himself. No one else could possibly even hope to get through to Touma. Especially when it came to his own well-being.

Maybe even he wouldn't reach him anymore, he knew.

But the others definitely wouldn't.

This was something he had to do himself. For Mahiru who had been shot, for his friends...and for himself. For everyone.

It was his duty. But also his decision.

"Hey, Tsurugi," Yumikage said, his voice quiet now, strangely soft. "You know why Jun befriended you back then?"

Tsurugi shrugged. "Because I protected you guys?"

Yumikage shook his head. "No."

"Because I was good at sports?"

"No, stupid."

"Um, because of my funny and sparkling personality?"

"No!"

"Then what?"

Yumikage sighed.

"Because your paper planes could fly further than anyone else's."

Tsurugi's mouth gaped open.

"But that..."

"That's what he taught you, yeah." Yumikage sounded like he hated every word, but he kept talking. "That's not something he'd have done if he hadn't cared at all. He must've cared at some point. Before it all went to shit." He sighed. "So if you want to fix this...talk to him...why not. Maybe your voice can still get through to him."

If even Yumikage thought so, it had to be true.

Taking a deep breath, Tsurugi reached for his phone on the nightstand, his fingers shaking as they closed around it. "That's what I thought too," he said. "I'll confront him, then. At some point I needed to."

Yumikage nodded. "Okay. But, Tsurugi..."

Tsurugi paused. "Hm?"

"Don't get your hopes up too much."

Touma Taishi sat on a bench on the roadside, wondering where to go from here.

The police had seen no reason to detain him any longer than necessary, but he almost wished they had. He had nowhere to go now. His small apartment had been supplied to him by the school, and the school was undoubtedly about to fire him. Maybe already had. A teacher who shot students? He wasn't stupid enough to show his face there again now that that was out.

Shirota Mahiru. He really did take after his uncle, and in more than looks. Troublesome, meddling, like one, like the other. Touma didn't understand them and had no desire to. He wasn't like them. He came from a different world than these naïve world-savior wannabes.

That boy looked like her, too. And not at all like him.

Could he really be related to such a brat? How could he, grown up surrounded by evil, accustomed to evil, possibly have fathered the child that acted like goodness incarnate?

How ironic, really, that this very boy would prove his downfall. A fair punishment, almost, for living the longest time without even knowing he existed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. Touma ignored it. Whoever it was that wanted something, they could wait. Or ask someone else. The results would be the same.

But the phone kept buzzing, and finally Touma pulled it out and threw a glance at the caller ID.

Tsurugi?

Not what he had expected. But something told him he had to pick up. So he did.

"Hello?"

"Tai-chan," Tsurugi's voice came from the speaker, grave and more serious than he had sounded in a long time, "we need to talk."

Touma wasn't sure what to make of this tone, but he was intrigued enough to carry on.

"I'm all ears."