cosmic crushes

Ever since Simon catapulted into bizarre, bloody existence aboard the Hail Mary, Grace had been rattled. For the obvious reasons– Simon claimed to come from a world where the stars had already gone dark and humanity nearly extinct– and for the more nebulous, hard-to-pin-down reasons– Simon's haunted eyes and brooding silence stirred something in Grace. 

Grace found he wanted to care. Not just in the passive way that one might when comprehending the horrors of the world. But in a visceral, active way. In a way that spoke of tensed muscles and grinding bones. Of air drawing effortlessly into lungs. He wanted to move. To smooth the line that often formed between Simon's brows and sand down the blunt edge to his tone when they spoke of what came next. He wanted to be so alive, so vibrant with it that he’d actuate that apathetic frown Simon often wore into audacious hope. The same hope Grace dared to let himself feel when Rocky first shared his astrophage with him. And even though that plan had gone all to hell, Grace still felt that same throbbing hope tucked safely between his ribs. If Rocky said they’d find a solution when they arrived at Erid, Grace believed him. He wanted Simon to believe, too. Even if they couldn’t find a way back to their own worlds, they could still find a way to live. 

The only problem was, Grace wasn’t sure how. Would they really be able to survive after bringing Rocky home to Erid? Grace knew very well that their two species' atmospheres did not mesh. Would a future exist for either of them where the stars still shone?

Grace thought back to Simon’s brutal entrance aboard the Hail Mary. His panicked shouts roused Grace from a nap. He’d blinked so aggressively he thought an eye muscle had been strained, but he must surely still be sleeping. There was no way that crimson stain on the floor was really from a flesh and blood person. He looked to Rocky who waved two of his arms in the air frantically and that was enough to confirm this was not another known alien species who’d suddenly teleported aboard their ship. 

Grace followed the spattered dark red trail to the next room and found Simon huddled in a corner, so crusted with blood that it took Grace a moment to piece together that he was human and not some new vermillion local in the galaxy that Grace needed to hope would be as good a neighbor as Rocky. When Simon had finally calmed down enough to explain what had happened to him, Grace had tried very hard to keep his horror from showing on his face. Weren’t they just two peas in a sadistic governmental murder pod? Although, grimly, Grace thought that he might have gotten the better deal after all. 

They’d put their heads together trying to determine where Simon came from and how he’d come but mostly this was only theoretical musings. A lot of Grace’s contributions ended up sounding like the plot of an episode of Star Trek. See, Grace thought smugly, this is why you should only send astronauts to space. Astronauts could probably tell you right away why a beaten, battered, red brick of a man had materialized out of nowhere. 

Worse than not knowing what came next for them, was Grace's awkward, lacking proficiency in soothing another person. It was not as if he had no skills– he was a teacher after all and what kind of teacher didn’t know how to ease the sting of hurt feelings? But everything he might do was complicated by the fact that any assurances he could make rang hollow like the empty promises they were. Grace was intelligent, but molecular biology could only do so much. This ship had been destined to accomplish one hail mary and unfortunately it wasn’t the one that would save his life– or Simon’s now. 

Standing in front of the food storage cabinets, weighing a crinkling packet in his hands, Grace thought that maybe there was at least one thing he could successfully do. 

He found Simon where he always did, hunched over wires, fiddling away. Rocky in his environmental crystal dome next to him. They worked in a companionable silence and on more than one occasion Grace had considered whether Simon didn't prefer Rocky's company to Grace's own. The possibility always set off a strange twinge in his chest. 

With zero preamble, Grace asked, “Which one of us is more traumatized do you think?” 

Simon's fingers flexed over a pair of pliers and he stared up from the floor blankly at Grace. “I'm not answering that.”

Rocky, never one to stay out of a dialogue, added, “Grace ask dumb question, statement.”

Grace never should've started this conversation in front of the world's noisiest roommate. “Well I think it's probably you, Simon.” Simon frowned at him which Grace decided he better not let deter him at this point. He'd hate to humiliate himself for no reason. "I mean you were sent to the bottom of an ocean of blood.”

Simon’s cocked eyebrow conveyed his begrudging engagement with Grace’s latest attempt at small talk. "We were both sent on suicide missions, Grace. I'd say we both drew the short end.”

“Yeah, but I met a cool alien,” Grace pointed at Rocky who pranced in place with what Grace suspected was pride. "And you met one that tried to kill you sooo.” At least this much Grace had gotten Simon to divulge about what had happened to him before he'd appeared on their spaceship broken, bleeding, and belligerently panicked.

Simon stared at him with clear exasperation— a regular and understandable reaction when Grace started rambling. "What is your point with this?” He finally asked. 

Grace swallowed hard, suddenly worried that his point was very very stupid. "There's one last packet of ramen left and I want you to have it."

Simon blinked like a deer caught in headlights. Grace blinked like a deer hoping to soon be caught by the vehicle attached to those headlights so he wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.

"And you thought convincing me I was the more traumatized one was the way to tell me this?" Simon clarified.

“Yes?" Grace sheepishly responded, trying to recall when exactly this plan had even formed. He doesn’t remember making a conscious decision to approach Simon in this ludicrous way. He remembered grabbing the ramen packet, thinking about how much Simon loved the crunch of the dried noodles– even though he’d never admit it– and deciding that he’d make sure Simon accepted his offering– one way or another. Apparently, Grace had chosen another, skipping straight past the reasonable way of just giving the ramen to Simon. 

"See, Grace dumb, Rocky said bad flirt." 

Simon stared up at Grace and Grace stared back, both of their skin flushing as the blood rushed up their necks and into their cheeks– mercifully inside their bodies although Grace thought vigorously bleeding from an open wound right now would be a pretty decent distraction from his embarrassment.

When did he ever tell Rocky that he wanted to flirt with Simon? Yes, admittedly, he’d asked Rocky very casually what flirting looked like between Erids and very briefly outlined some of his own past attempts, which Rocky had been unimpressed by. But he’d never once mentioned Simon’s name. And if his name just so happened to be lodged at the back of his mind while talking about human and Erid courtship customs, there was no way Rocky could know that! 

Rocky slid into his crystal ball– none the wiser that he’d just dropped a bomb aboard this delicately pressurized spacecraft– and merrily rolled away.

Grace realized he was still standing there, like an idiot, holding the package of ramen stretched out towards Simon. Before he could withdraw first the noodles and then himself– preferably into a storage cupboard for the remainder of his journey left to Erid– Simon’s calloused fingers closed over the package. The tip of his index finger brushed against Grace’s knuckle. 

Simon locked eyes with him for a moment, then looked away. Grace released his grip on the ramen. “Thanks for this,” Simon said, his voice gruff. 

~Misa~

Misa is awoken the following morning by a soft rap on her door. She rubs the vestiges of sleep out of her eyes, pulling her jacket over her shoulders. She kneels in the desk chair against her door to get close enough to see through the peephole. Surprise washes the last of her drowsiness away when she sees a familiar blonde head. Why is Chishiya at her door for a second morning in a row? She drags the chair backwards then yanks the door open. 

“What’s going on?” 

Chishiya’s eyes flit to the desk chair discarded behind her. “You weren’t answering your radio.” 

“My radio?” She drags a hand through her hair, wading through the early morning brain fog. Then she remembers. Moving to her bedside table, she retrieves the walkie talkie Chishiya had given her yesterday. She’d switched the volume off and stuffed it in the drawer before going to bed last night. “Sorry. What’s up?” 

“There’s news. The executives are gathering.” 

“I’m not an executive. Why do I need to be there?” 

“I invited Arisu, too. I think he’ll find your presence reassuring. Besides, Ann recruited you on the basis of you having executive potential, remember?” 

Misa frowns, she hasn't spoken a word to Ann since then. She doubts anyone cares whether she becomes an executive or not, but she follows Chishiya downstairs to a conference room anyway.

They round a corner just in time to see two militants step forward and block Arisu and Usagi’s path. Icy distress skates down her spine when Niragi also un-peals himself from the wall, rifle hoisted at his side. 

“Where did you guys come from? We didn’t ask you guys to come here.” Niragi menaces. 

“I called him over,” Chishiya asserts. 

Niragi scoffs. “Hey, don't go gathering people on your own.”

“There’s something important he has to hear. Let’s go in,” he directs to Arisu. 

Niragi holds out a hand in Misa’s direction. “What about her?”

An imperceptible tip of Chishiya’s head. “She’s with me.” 

“Oh, really? You should learn to share then, Chishiya,” Niragi snickers. 

Misa grinds her teeth. Chishiya ignores him, walking to the closed double doors. This feels like the antithesis of keeping her out of Niragi’s path. What the hell does Chishiya want her and Arisu to hear so badly?

Arisu is allowed through and she hears him tell Usagi that he’ll see her later, before he joins Chishiya at the doors. “What happened?” He asks. 

Chishiya’s smile confirms to Misa that he already has some idea of what’s going on. “Who knows? It must be something serious.” He shoves the doors open and she and Arisu quietly trail him inside. 

Misa’s heart skips a beat and her breath hitches in her throat. Her eyes are saucer-wide as she absorbs the sight of the body laid out on the long conference room table. It’s not the presence of a corpse that disorients her. It’s the presence of this corpse and what it means for them all. A quick scan of the room reveals that, aside from a handful of militants posted along the walls, she and Arisu are the only non-executive members present. 

Hatter lies rigid and waxen. No breath moves his lungs. That vibrant, egotistical cult persona snuffed out. Misa didn’t care about Hatter, but she knew the new depths of darkness that would be ushered in once his life was extinguished. He was responsible for the deaths of many. If the militants seized control, that death toll would rapidly rise. 

Kuzuryu announces that he’ll be the next leader since he’s number two. Misa looks at the bespectacled man with something close to sympathy. If he really believed that was how this was going to go, then he didn’t even deserve to be number two. 

Nirgai protests that it should be the strongest person, gaze travelling to Aguni who stands stoically at the head of the table over Hatter’s body. He doesn’t respond and Nirgai declares that they should take a vote. Silence as still as the grave. None of the executives want this, then. Do they really think they have a choice? Niragi calls on Last Boss who springs forward, drawing his sword. He points it at Ann. Niragi, self-satisfied, asks for a vote again. Misa’s heartbeat pounds as around her hands tentatively raise into the air. Beside her, Chishiya doesn’t move. 

This draws Niragi’s ire. He raises his rifle, gesticulating with it towards Chishiya. “What about you?”

Chishiya looks over at him slowly, saying nothing. Misa resists the urge to yank his hand into the air in a ‘yes’ vote herself. She doesn't agree with any of this either, but it’s not worth dying over. Was Chishiya truly not afraid of being killed? Niragi has a gun. What good are his cocky quips against steel shrapnel? 

Niragi lowers the rifle, stepping closer. “Are you looking down on us, Chishiya?”

“But you guys really are stupid,” Chishiya replies and Misa closes her eyes, braced for the impact of lead into Chishiya’s soft, very breakable body. 

Niragi steps further into Chishiya’s space, pressing the rifle up under his chin so that Chishiya has to lift his head. “Those eyes of yours really piss me off. It’s so condescending.”

Chishiya takes a small step back, which presses him against Misa. She fists a hand into the back of his hoodie, not entirely sure what she’s planning to do. The general idea involves hanging onto this madman and running like hell. Can she move faster than a bullet? Can she convince Chishiya to move faster than one? 

Chishiya raises both of his hands into the air, a mocking smile on his face. “I vote for Aguni to be the leader.” He smirks down at the rifle still pointed at him. “Are you all right with losing me as a precious ‘yes’ vote?”

Nirgai scoffs but lowers the gun, stepping backwards. He says, “Well, I hope you reflect on how you should act in the future.” He leers at Misa, lips pulling into something ugly when he sees her clutched onto Chishiya. “I think we scared your little girlfriend. You should be more considerate or she might just find someone else to take care of her.” 

Chishiya laughs, low and mirthless. “Sorry. You’re not her type.” 

Niragi flicks his tongue against the corner of his mouth, turning his agitation on Arisu. “Hey, what are you spacing out for?” When Arisu doesn’t respond, Niragi strides towards him, raising that damned rifle once more. “Were you never taught that you should reply to people? Whose side are you on?” Arisu flinches back, fear etched into his features. 

Unexpectedly, Last Boss lunges forward thrusting his sword at Arisu. Misa fists a second hand into Chishiya’s hoodie, this one at his forearm. He angles towards her, his arm pressing into her stomach. His head knocks to the side a fraction of an inch, but Misa gets the message. Don’t react, don’t move, do nothing. Misa doesn’t really need to be told. She’s powerless to do anything in this situation. They all are. She clings to Chishiya not in a silent plea for him to do something, but to hold herself steadily in check. Chishiya is like a lighthouse in the middle of this hurricane. They just have to survive this and he had a plan to guide them to safe harbor. 

Niragi’s laughter booms across the room. “You were really scared for a moment there, right? That’s so funny!”

Arisu tentatively raises his hand in a ‘yes’ vote, eyes darting to Misa. She nods faintly to affirm his choice. 

Niragi stalks around the circle. “All right. Suddenly everyone’s voting ‘yes.’ So the new leader is decided, right?”

Mira speaks up. “Hatter would not have allowed this. If he were alive, he would not have allowed this.”

Niragi laughs scathingly. “But he’s dead.” Then he hits Hatter in the head with the butt of his rifle, the crunch sickening. “The dead won’t know what’s going on.” He lays into him several more times, spitting on him. Most people avert their eyes, but Misa can’t look away. This fate awaits them all. Flesh minced at the end of Niragi’s maniacal reach. She doesn’t realize she’s gripping onto Chishiya’s arm, hard, until his hand comes up to cover her own. He doesn’t pry her fingers loose. His grip tightens around hers briefly then drops back to his side. 

Finally, Aguni interrupts Niragi’s tirade. “Enough. From today onwards, I will be the Beach’s new king.”

“Isn’t this wonderful,” Niragi declares, clapping, “Now boss, what’s left is the succession ceremony. Let’s open the black envelope.”

Robotically, the other executives begin to move. Presumably, succession plans are discussed but Misa computes none of it. She’s as rigid as the stone walls surrounding them. She only snaps out of it when Arisu places a hand on her shoulder. 

“Come on.” His head tilts towards where Chishiya is already at the door. Misa hadn’t registered him escaping her grip. She looks once more at Hatter’s body, her eyes catching Niragi’s who curls his tongue at her.

Misa’s stomach churns. She’s silent the entire journey to meet up with Usagi and Kuina. She’s not in shock. She’s not frozen. She’s in preparation. Their plan must work. There is no alternative. She will not die here, to the cruelty of men. Not after everything. 

~Chishiya~

Sequestered in an empty room, Chishiya is at last ready to lay his plan out for everyone. Misa sits on the sofa next to his armchair, Kuina beside her. Arisu sits on the edge of a bed and Usagi stands.

A solemnity fell over Misa after the conference room. She sits ramrod straight, hands clasped in her lap, hair cascading over her shoulders. In her moment of distress, she’d reached for him. It bolstered Chishiya in an unprecedented way. He didn’t require others to feel self-assured. 

“The black envelope,” he begins, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “The poker cards gathered by all the members of the Beach are kept in the safe in Hatter’s royal suite room. The passcode to the safe is kept and sealed inside the black envelope. The envelope is opaque and is kept in utmost secrecy, and can be opened only when there is a new Number One. The new Number One will check the passcode alone in front of all the executive members. Then, they will place the paper with the passcode written on it into a new envelope and seal it again. It will then be signed by all executive members before it’s stashed away again.” 

Misa nods along with his explanation as if she expected as much. “What do we need to do?”

“First, Arisu will infiltrate the royal suite. Then he will search for the safe and steal all the playing cards inside.”

“What about the passcode?” Arisu questions. Misa finally breaks her thousand yard stare to look over at him, as if she would like for him to answer this, too. 

“I have an idea of that. I’ll tell you when you’re in front of the safe.” He passes a walkie talkie onto the coffee table towards Arisu. “It’s set to a private channel. We’ll be able to communicate with each other.” 

“You're really cautious,” Arisu comments, but picks up the radio. “I got it.” 

“Usagi, Kuina and Misa will be on the lookout.” Chishiya places another walkie talkie onto the coffee table between them for Usagi. 

“This is too dangerous. If we’re discovered, we’ll be killed.” Usagi sounds upset. Chishiya supposes that’s understandable and she doesn't even know the half of it. Chishiya follows that thought to Misa. Her expression is grim. She doesn’t disagree with Usagi’s evaluation– but she doesn’t agree enough to voice objections to this plan. Chishiya’s eyes roam over the slope of her nose, the taut line of her lips. Would she reach for him again once she discovered what he was about to do? 

Arisu faces Usagi. “This is the only way to change the current situation. Now that Hatter is dead and there’s no unity at the Beach, the time is right for this plan.”

Usagi is silent in tacit agreement. No further objections are made. Chishiya directs the group to where they should take up posts to wait and they all depart, save for Misa. “Meet me at the lobby balconies after the executives meeting,” he tells her. “Aguni will surely gather everyone there for a succession speech. That will be our chance.” 

“Shouldn’t I be monitoring the halls like everyone else?” 

That may be true. The Beach is massive and the more eyes on it that they can get, the better. Yet some enigmatic force in him compels him to keep her close. Is he perhaps savoring their last moments together? When he is through with Arisu, will she be through with him? This could be his final command that she unerringly follows. Anticipating an absence– it’s a bittersweet flavor he’s unaccustomed to. No matter. It is nothing worth abandoning his goals for.  

“I need your eyes on Aguni and his militants with me.”

Misa doesn’t object. “Whatever you plan to do to get the code…” Her fingers flex at her side, curling into a fist before loosening again. “Be careful.” 

Chishiya’s slow grin prowls out across his face. “You should be careful, Misa. I might start thinking you care.” 

Her mouth forms a smile but the shape holds no joy. Not for the first time, Chishiya wonders what exactly has happened to her in life to make her this way. “Would that really be so bad, Chishiya? We all have to care about something in order to survive.” The door clicks softly shut behind her. 

A bird flies past the window. Late afternoon sunlight spills over the carpet, the leaves on the trees outside casting shadows that flicker over the ground. Though Chishiya watches them dance, his mind is on another shadow in his life, looming further and further out of his reach. 

***

The executives meeting is a funereal affair. It’s not for Hatter people mourn, but for the loss of an artificial protection. The black envelope is opened by Aguni as they all sit silently. It’s almost too easy, Chishiya thinks, studying Aguni as he flips open the folded piece of paper inside. He patiently waits until the envelope is resealed and the meeting is dismissed with a command to head to the lobby annex.

Chishiya finds Misa right where he asked her to be. Her arms are folded across her stomach. At his approach, she pushes the hood off her head and asks, “How did it go?”

“According to plan.” 

Misa’s fingers glide through her hair, drawing the strands together in a braid. Her pre-game ritual. Her transformation to signal chaos is impending. A muscle ticks in her jaw when the siren that prompts the Beach’s residents to gather blares through the loudspeakers. Niragi’s words announcing Aguni’s succession are an insignificant hum in his ears. Chishiya doesn’t care about their supercilious display. 

“The new leader is making a speech in the lobby. All executive members and the militants are at the annex. We won’t get another chance like this. I’ll let you guys know if there are any changes. I’m counting on you, Arisu.”

Arisu radios back, his voice doubling over itself from the walkie talkies in Chishiya’s hand and tucked into Misa’s hoodie pocket. “Understood.” 

“What now?” Misa whispers. 

“Now, we wait.” Chishiya must time this next bit carefully. 

A handful of minutes pass, Misa chewing on her lip to cope, before Arisu radios again. “I found it. So, what’s the passcode?”

“It’s 8022.” Immediately, Chishiya is exiting the nook of the balcony. 

Misa keeps pace next to him. “Hey, where are you going?” He ignores her and continues moving. Time is of the essence. 

“Did you see the contents of the letter?” Arisu asks and Chishiya can tell by Misa’s raised hands that she has the same question, along with a few more. 

“No. But Aguni’s expression told me everything. That instant, Aguni’s face looked dark. It was as if he was surprised and perplexed. I’m sure the contents must be empty.”

“Empty? Then what about the passcode you told me?”

They hit the annex floor landing and Misa flings out a hand against Chishiya’s chest, physically stopping him so they’re face to face. “What’s going on, Chishiya? Where are you going?” Chishiya would swear he can feel the slightest tremble in the fingertips she presses over his heart. 

Chishiya exhales like a laugh, relishing in a moment of self-congratulation. He holds Misa’s gaze. “The wax seal. It was embossed with the boss ring and it formed numbers. That was the code itself. It’s 8022.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be your enemy.” Arisu sounds awed, even through a radio message.

Chishiya veers around Misa, switching his radio off and closing the gap to the annex. Aguni’s speech is already over and his group fills the hall, heading in their direction. “Aguni,” Chishiya calls out. “I saw someone loitering around the royal suite during your speech. They seemed suspicious. I thought you should know.” His words work like a charm, Aguni and the militants rush off. Chishiya follows.

Misa stands in stunned silence for several seconds before she hurries after him. The militants, intent on their target, pay them little mind, but Chishiya reaches over and dials off the volume on Misa’s radio. 

Misa pales, looking down at the radio in her hands then back up at him. He can see brick by brick the betrayal building between them, him the architect of this maleficent masonry. “What have you done, Chishiya?” 

“What I needed to.” 

“We have to warn him!” She hisses. 

Chishiya clamps a hand over hers around the radio before she can raise it to her lips. “You do that, and you’re dead right alongside him.” 

She blinks at him. “Is that a threat?” 

Chishiya’s hand twitches over hers. “I have no desire to threaten you, Misa. That’s simply advice. It’s too late to stop this.” 

She yanks her hand from his grip, but continues to match his steps. 

They arrive at the royal suite mere minutes after Arisu’s initial radio call. Usagi is apprehended at once, a hand clapped over her mouth to silence her. She is dragged into the room adjoining the main suite. Chishiya catches Misa’s wrist when he feels her recoil, shaking his head discreetly. Aguni signals for quiet and the group creeps into the royal suite. Arisu is too flustered to notice, still pressing buttons in an attempt to silence the beeping safe. 

Niragi shatters the scene. “You really came in so brazenly.” 

Chishiya smiles and tosses the radio in his hands, unable to stop himself from gloating at his successful manipulation. Misa is like crumbling stone just behind his shoulder, but he trusts that she’s smart enough not to implicate them, not to fall apart in a room full of predators. He must be included in that count now. 

“Why?” Arisu’s devastation falls on deadened sympathy from him. 

From a side room, Usagi is dragged inside, yelling “let me go” as she thrashes against her captors. Arisu screams her name and tries to rush to her.

Niragi hits him in the face with the butt of his rifle, the wet impact causing Usagi to wail Arisu’s name. Misa presses her palm into his back, so hard he has to brace himself to keep from stepping forward. 

“Stop shouting for Usagi, you idiot!” Niragi kicks Arisu in the stomach once, then many times. Each kick twists Misa’s fist tighter into the fabric of his hoodie, so tight, Chishiya’s sure her knuckles must be a bloodless white. Is she thinking about shoving Chishiya into the circle of death so that he may take Arisu’s place?

Aguni addresses Chishiya over his shoulder. “You saved me, Chishiya. We caught them thanks to your perceptiveness.”

“No problem. It was what I should do.” Everyone else watches the violent beating Niragi unleashes on Arisu, but Chishiya watches Aguni, the crux of his plan falling perfectly into place.  

Arisu is a bloody, blubbering mess. “What? Oh my. Are you sleepy already?” Niragi lifts Arisu’s head off the floor by his hair. “Bring him to that room!” He orders. 

Both Arisu and Usagi are disappeared out of sight. They’d stay that way in Chishiya’s mind, except Misa’s nails dig into his sleeve as she pulls him out the door when they’re dismissed by Aguni. She marches them into the first empty room she can find and Chishiya knows he’ll have to spare a few more thoughts for the lambs he’s led to slaughter.  

“Are you planning to attack me, Misa?” He asks just to rile her up, just to see if she would. 

“No, Chishiya Shuntaro! Fucking hell!” She tries to rake a hand through her hair, forgetting it’s in a braid. Her fingers catch and several strands fall loose around her face. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want to know why?” 

“I needed Arisu to reveal the real location of the safe. I could only get that by observing Aguni’s behaviors when threatened.”

“We could’ve just searched the room for it. We had time.” 

“Did we? You saw how fast this all happened. Would we have had time to search everywhere before Aguni came back? Before a militant noticed? Would you have taken that risk?”

“Yes!” Misa nearly screams and Chishiya believes her. She would’ve taken on the danger if it kept Arisu and Usagi out of it. “But you didn’t think to ask, did you? You decided to use people and god,” she drops her head back in a harsh laugh at the ceiling. “I got used right along with them.” 

“I’m going to get the cards now. And we can leave.” Misa’s incredulity is expected, but Chishiya felt he had to try. She could still be useful. Hers would’ve been an inane sacrifice. She works with him in a way Arisu could not. 

“I’m going to find Usagi and Arisu. To get them out of here.”

“The militants will kill you.” 

Tears fall elegantly down her cheeks, like she’s shed countless and finds the process as commonplace as summer rain. Hardly anything to make a spectacle over. “The one thing I wanted. To keep Usagi away from Niragi. You couldn’t even give me that.” 

“I never promised to, Misa.” 

“Maybe not. But you looked me in the eye and validated that you know exactly what Niragi is. That could’ve been me, Chishiya.” 

He looks at her like the curiosity that she is. Is he meant to care about what might happen to the other woman because he cared about it when it could happen to Misa? There was nothing more he needed from Usagi. What he still needs from Misa is nebulous, yet notable enough to warrant his care. “I ensured it wouldn’t be you.” 

She grimaces, her anger giving way to dolefulness. “Did you think I would stay with you after this?” 

No, but despite how he detested the concept, there had been a kernel-sized hope. “I won’t wait for you to leave.” 

“I won’t ask you to.” She steps into him, so close that if he angled his head down a little more, their noses might brush. “You only seem to help me when you think it benefits you.” Her head drops to the ground, shaking back and forth slowly. Her eyes seek him out again. “And I’m the idiot who’s going to miss that.” Her lips press petal soft against his cheek. “Good luck, Chishiya. I hope you find what you’re looking for out there.”

Like a flower wilting into decay, she’s gone. Leaving behind a rotten soil that may never grow anything again. That’s fine, Chishiya never had any desire to garden. 

~Misa~

Misa stumbles from the room in a stupor. Her fingers graze down the wall to steady her. She let this happen. She knew there was something Chishiya wasn’t telling her. Had felt it like a wiggling worm in her stomach that she’d ignored. Arisu wasn’t needed for this plan– unless he was only ever meant to be a disposable part of it. Like a paper towel you used to sop up a mess and provide yourself with a clean slate to work on. 

Worse than her guilt for what might be happening to Arisu and Usagi, is her guilt at the pain of wrenching herself away from Chishiya. And her shame. It shouldn’t be this hard to walk away from a man who willfully serves his allies up on a silver platter. So what if he’d left her off the main course menu? Maybe Misa is more monstrous than she’d like to think because, damn her, she was going to miss him. His bluntness, his soothing self-assuredness in the face of death, their quiet conversations. She might hate herself for it, but he made her feel less lonely, less alone. 

But he’d never really been with her, had he? Hubris of her to think otherwise. Or maybe he had, but what was she to do with someone who weighed the value of people’s lives in the palm of his hands and decided some were worth more than others? 

Kuina materializes in front of her. “What happened?” 

“Don’t you know?”

“Did we get the cards?”

“Ask Chishiya.” Misa steps around her and doesn’t look back. She doesn’t want to know how big of a part Kuina played in this betrayal. 

Misa has no idea where the militants would have taken Arisu and Usagi. She takes a deep breath to steady the wobble in her legs. She’ll search this place room by room if she has to. She has to make this right. She has to put distance between herself and this callous calamity she let break her heart. 

~Chishiya~ 

Aguni is busy with establishing his reign over the Beach. Chishiya doesn’t have to wait long before his opportunity presents itself. 

“Kuina, how are things on your side?” Chishiya radios. 

“Aguni is still in his room. I'm so bored now.” Kuina has monitored Aguni for signs that he planned to move into the royal suite, but following a round of duties at the Beach he retired to his former room and remained there. 

“Then, shall we proceed with our plan?” Chishiya enters the suite. It’s dim and empty. “I don't know if Arisu is clever or stupid. There's no way the cards would be kept in an ordinary safe.”

“Then where is the real safe?”

“When Arisu found the fake safe, Aguni, who usually does not waver, was looking toward a certain location. I believe that the contents of the envelope did not contain a passcode or an empty letter…but instead it might have been a drawing.” Chishiya zeroes in on the deer portrait hanging on the wall, unhooking it. “Found it.” Too easy. These militants really were leagues beneath him. 

“So you used him for this? Does Misa know?” Kuina’s disquiet is apparent. 

“To gain something, you need to lose something,” Chishiya replies, a phantom velvet-soft pressure ghosting against his cheek. That’s all he’s done. Traded an alliance for something greater. “He's just a sacrifice. Things like this happen often, don't they?” 

“No, not at all. I really don't want to be your enemy.”

Chishiya smiles. “People often tell me that.” He opens the safe, collecting the cards, everything he’s worked for firmly in his hands. “Meet you at the gate.

He wastes no time joining Kuina outside. Lingering at the Beach now will only invite trouble. “I guess it's time to say goodbye to this, too.” Chishiya says, removing his wristband as he walks past Kuina.

“Don't you feel sorry for him? Arisu, I mean.”

“Feel sorry?” Surely she wasn’t about to go the same way as Misa. 

“Yes. I feel really sorry for him.”

Chishiya stops, turning to her. “Is there anything we can't do in order to survive? If you're so worried, then you should help him, Kuina.”

“Where’s Misa?”

“She won’t be coming with us.” 

“She’s upset about Arisu isn’t she?”

Chishiya turns to leave again. “Whatever Misa is, it’s not my concern.” 

“If she tries to help him she’s going to get herself killed.” 

“And? That’s her choice, not mine.” 

Kuina sighs. “I liked her.” Still, she walks towards Chishiya and the archway exit. 

That’s when he sees it. “Don't tell me…” He studies the brick intently. “Stop right there,” he barks at Kuina. He tosses his wristband through the arch and it's immediately zapped by lasers.

“Seriously,” Kuina says as she moves closer and spots the laser grid herself. 

An announcement plays overhead. “Thank you for staying at Seaside Paradise Tokyo. As a token of our appreciation, we will now commence a game for all the guests in the hotel. Difficulty ten of hearts. We will now be explaining the rules. All players are to assemble in the lobby.”

~Misa~ 

Misa wakes late in the night with only a mild headache and sore muscles, much to her relief. She knows it’s not in her best interest to fall asleep immediately following a head injury but she’d felt too heavy to resist, her eyes refusing to listen to her commands to stay open. And too safe, she must admit, with Chishiya at her side. Chishiya. A brief scan around the room reveals that Misa is alone. She’s still on the floor, but a pillow has been placed under her head. Chishiya’s knife and taser are neatly arranged on the bedside table. Misa stares at them for several breaths, swallowing around a lump in her throat. 

This feels like more than Chishiya simply wanting her alive. He wants her safe. Foolish, she chides herself, letting her mind run off in flights of fancy. Whatever Chishiya wants, he only wants it because it is of benefit to him. 

Misa forces herself to go downstairs for a late lunch, closer to dinner, really. She’s pleasantly surprised when she runs into Kuina on the way to the dining hall.

Kuina pops the dummy cigarette out of her mouth and points it at Misa, eyes wide. “What the hell happened to you?”

Misa knows she refers to the bruises on her cheek and around her throat. Though Misa has her hoodie jacket zipped up all the way and the hood raised, it’s impossible to miss the purple and blue clusters. “Had a run in with Niragi.” 

Kuina’s expression darkens. “I just saw Chishiya. He said Niragi was stabbed.” 

“I’m guessing he left out the part where I was the one who did the stabbing?” 

“Good,” Kuina says. “I only wish you’d killed the bastard.”

“You and me both.” Which reminds Misa. “Chishiya says he has a plan to get out of here?”  

Kuina nods. “I was coming to find you actually. He wants us to meet him in his room.” 

They make a stop for food for Misa first. Already, the facade of the Beach is wearing thin. The fresh produce present when Misa first joined already rapidly depleted to offerings of dried and canned goods. Only the everpresent loudly thumping music from the pool and basement lounge appears unshakeable. The Beach might run out of food eventually, but hey, at least they can all still dance themselves into oblivion. 

Misa has finished her meager meal by the time they arrive at Chishiya's room. He’s waiting for them, seated at the desk chair. He waves a hand at the bed, inviting them to take a seat. Kuina opts to lean against the wall beside the bed, but Misa sinks onto a corner of the mattress. 

“I have an idea,” Chishiya opens. 

Misa exchanges a look with Kuina before replying, “Let’s hear it.” 

“I want to steal the cards from Hatter and then leave the Beach.” 

Misa blinks once, twice. “Well, that’s certainly an idea. Not much of a plan.” 

Chishiya smiles at her. “The cards are kept in a safe in Hatter’s suite. I can work out what the passcode is, but we’ll need someone to go to the safe and retrieve the cards for us.” 

Misa narrows her eyes. “So you want one of us to do that?” 

“No,” Chishiya shakes his head. “I need you two to be lookouts. We need to find someone else. Someone smart enough not to get caught or rat us out.” 

Misa cocks her head to the side, an unexplainable sense of unease creeping up her spine. “Then why don’t you do it?”

Chishiya fixes her in his still-water gaze. “I’m too conspicuous as an executive.”

Misa dips her chin and bites her cheek, looking back up at him. “Rule number one, Chishiya.” 

His lips part but for a moment he says nothing, just stares at her so intently Kuina nervously clears her throat. Then he smiles once more. “It’s not worth the risk to my personal safety. A third party, maybe someone newer to the Beach, will draw less attention.” 

They will be easier to manipulate, Misa thinks darkly. But at least they’d be manipulated into helping them all escape this godforsaken place. 

“If we get caught, the militants will kill us.” Kuina doesn’t sound particularly apprehensive about this. 

Chishiya gestures to Misa’s face. “The militants are already a liability. Hatter barely has them on a leash and it’s only a matter of time before he’s usurped. Things aren’t going to improve then.” 

Misa rubs her fingers over her mottled throat. Chishiya’s eyes briefly flick down, tracking the movement. As it stands, the people in this room are her only allies. Her only chance of escaping this place alive. It’s not as if she’s coming up with a better plan. “Okay, I’m in.” She glances at Kuina who shrugs and nods her acquiescence as well. 

In the distance, the telltale blare of an electronic siren rings out, signaling the time has come to gather for game assignments. Kuina unslouches from the wall, heading towards the door. “I have to play a game tonight.” 

“I’ll go down with you,” Misa offers. Kuina smiles in thanks. As they head out the door, Misa is surprised when Chishiya follows behind them. 

At her questioning look he smirks. “Time to start scouting.” 

The members of the Beach flood into the lobby. Executives orchestrate the distribution of car assignments for the games. Chishiya flipped his hood onto his head upon entering the space, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Their group of three merges with the larger crowd. Misa catches Chishiya’s watchful gaze scanning the room, so she does the same, though she’s not exactly sure what qualifications for recruitment to their cause she’s meant to seek out. 

Abruptly Kuina laughs. She and Chishiya both turn to look at her. She points a finger back and forth between them. “You two. You’re like two peas in a pod.” 

Misa looks down at her own hands shoved into her jacket pockets, her hood still pulled over her head in a futile attempt to hide her bruised skin. She’s not sure why she’s bothering except that she doesn’t want Niragi to see it if she has the misfortune of running into that scumbag before she's healed. The idea of him knowing he left a mark on her sets her teeth on edge. She wants to be the only one triumphant in their violent exchange.

When she looks up, Chishiya grins at her, slow and lazy. “I thought you didn’t care for my fashion sense.” 

“If you’ll recall, I believe it was specifically your color choice I took issue with.” 

“See, two peas in a pod,” Kuina affectionately interjects. 

~Chishiya~ 

They wait as the Beach assembles, moving over to idle beside a pillar as people begin circulating outside with their assignments. Kuina leans a shoulder against the stone column and Chishiya rests his back against it. Misa does neither. She stands upright, posture tense, her back to him as she surveys the crowd in front of them. Yet again, she puts her trust in him on display. Is it a ruse? Does she only want him to think she trusts him to watch her back? Before he can mull it over any further, his eyes snag on two familiar figures. 

“What’s up? Do you know them?” Kuina asks, following his line of sight. 

“We played a game with those two,” he answers.

Misa is already watching them. No doubt she clocked them as soon as Chishiya did. What made her such a keen observer? Her work in the hospital? “They helped us clear the game,” Misa tells Kuina. 

And just like that, the pieces on Chishiya’s chessboard fall into place. “They might be useful. To our plan, that is.” Misa’s back is to him, but he notices her shoulders visibly stiffen. Curious. Does she know that man and woman? Chishiya doesn’t think so, they’d exchanged no greetings to indicate they were acquainted. 

Kuina receives her assignment and heads off with a worried “be safe” from Misa and a carefree wave from him. Kuina would either return or she wouldn’t. There was nothing Chishiya could do about it. It wasn’t his preference, but he could still make his plan work without her if she died tonight. 

Misa tucks an arm against her stomach and drums her fingertips against her bottom lip. A quirk, Chishiya is discovering, to indicate she is deep in thought. She maintains this posture until they’re sequestered in her room. Chishiya isn’t entirely sure why he followed her. Mostly out of amusement at the way she clearly registered his presence– matching her pace to his– but didn’t stop him from tagging along.

Her hotel room door swings shut behind them before she finally drops her arms to her sides and speaks. “You want to use them to go get the cards.” 

The statement itself isn’t a question, but he can see there's one lurking just behind the punctuation mark. “One of them, yes.” 

“The man, correct?”

Chishiya nods. 

“Good. Leave the woman out of it.” Misa sighs, turning to fall backwards onto her bed, her arms starfished out. The gesture is so peculiarly juxtaposed with her serious tone that Chishiya can’t stifle his laugh. She raises her head to roll her eyes at him. “I know this operation will be dangerous no matter what. But I don’t want to be the reason another woman ends up in Niragi’s sights. So don’t recruit her.”

Chishiya sits next to her on the bed. She pushes herself up onto her elbows to regard him. He wonders if she’s going to tell him to move. She sits up, folding one leg onto the bed under her so she can turn to face him. “Can you promise me, Chishiya?” 

“No,” he answers honestly, just like she wants. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but I think they come as a set.” 

Misa contemplates this, biting into her bottom lip, another of her quirks. Her teeth leave momentary pale depressions on her skin, there and gone as quickly as snow melting on pavement. “Of course. A trauma bond.” She whispers as if she’s talking to herself. “Fine, then she can be lookouts with me and Kuina.” 

“Deal.” 

“Thank you for coming to find me.” Chishiya pauses at her words. Here comes more of her insistence on his alleged kindness towards her.  But then, “I know you did it for you. But you still did it.” She glares at him as if daring him to argue with her factually correct deduction. 

“I did do it for me. Alive, we can continue to work together. Dead, we cannot.” He smiles, tossing his head cavalierly for emphasis. 

“Niragi didn’t want me dead.”

The hard line of Misa’s words are like a chisel set to his stone. Only he’s not sure what shape she means to carve out of him. “I know what Niragi wanted,” he replies slowly. 

“Then I hope I can trust you not to do anything that would ever see Niragi get what he wants.” 

The atmosphere in the room has shifted, like stepping into the eye of a storm. Chishiya notices the taser and knife are missing from where he’d placed them on her nightstand. Did she mean to attack him if she didn’t like his answer? But he stares into her fathomless brown eyes and doesn’t see threat, only challenge. A test. “Men like Niragi are a disgrace to humankind.” 

Misa playfully punches his shoulder. “It’s nice when we agree on something.”

“I think we may agree on a lot of things,” Chishiya retorts. “You’re not afraid to be alone with me. You never have been, have you?” Chishiya is remembering her first day at the Beach, her uneasiness in the wardrobe room. He’d thought it was a general distrust directed at him, the entire situation. Now, he’s not sure how much of a factor he’d ever been in that equation. 

Misa’s eyes unfocus on the middle distance. Is she also recalling their first meeting? “You’re why I felt calm that first day actually.” She smiles at the shocked expression he doesn’t bother to hide. “The way you looked at me, I thought, okay, here’s someone else who knows what a load of bullshit this all is. I felt reassured.” 

Chishiya is rendered speechless. He files through his memories but can’t locate the last time anyone felt reassured by him. Certainly not his parents and their bone-crushing expectations. Not his patients with their death-rattles banging in their chests and him powerless to cut through the elite’s red tape to deliver them aid.

But here sits this small, smudge of a woman, with her curtain of jet black hair and wardrobe like a shadow, telling him that she was reassured by him. Giving him her gratitude even after he let her down in their first game, following his lead in their second, falling asleep on his shoulder when she was hurt and afraid– she is still reassured by him. How could she be so careless? 

“You should really be careful who you trust.” He thinks he might be almost cross with her though he’s not sure he can name why. He is the one planning to dupe her. Is he annoyed with himself? 

She smiles, her teeth flashing. “Maybe you should be careful of who you let trust you.” 

Misa gets up and pulls two books out of a desk drawer. She hands one to him, then scoots to the headboard with the other. She settles in to read without another word. Chishiya glances down at the book in his hand, not really reading the title. He thinks of getting up and leaving, to thwart her assumption that he’d stay, but he has a niggling suspicion that she’d know he was trying to be petty. No one has ever gotten under his skin like this. He moves to the floor, propping the book open on his knees and stays there until they leave to find Kuina. 

***

Misa jogs over to Kuina when she spots her tall figure amidst the returning throng. Chishiya tips his head in greeting. Kuina fills them in on the game she played. The man from the five of Spades game, Arisu, was with her, being tested by Ann at Hatter’s behest. Kuina says he’s smart, a quick thinker. They make their way to the pool while Kuina gives her report.

They find an open lounger moments before Chishiya spies the newcomers reuniting near the pool and juts his chin in their direction. “Time for proper introductions.” Kuina nods and he slinks into the background, hesitating before tugging Misa with him by her sleeve. Misa looks at him questioningly but he only shakes his head. 

Kuina calls out to Arisu and the woman and the three of them strike up a conversation. This is why he likes Kuina, she’s a people-person. Able to disarm with a friendliness that evades Chishiya.

They’re not close enough to hear their conversation, but when Aguni and his crew enter the fray, it’s clear threats are being made. Misa takes the tiniest step forward when the woman is accosted by a militant. Chishiya leans into her, “You’ll only make it worse.” Her first is clenched so tightly, he’s sure crescents will be left in her palms from her nails. It doesn’t matter, anyway, because Arisu is on his feet and a fight seems inevitable now. 

Until Hatter strolls in, voice booming, calling for peace. Chishiya watches them with boredom, far more interested in the tension pulling Misa’s posture rigid beside him. The tenuous dance of control Hatter still spins around Aguni, and by proxy, the other militants, unfolds in front of the pool. Aguni leads his militants away and finally Misa relaxes marginally. Hatter exchanges a few last words with Arisu and the woman, then leaves as well. Arisu and his companion are quick to depart next. Kuina is still standing by the pool’s edge and Chishiya heads towards her, pausing to glance back when Misa doesn't follow him. 

She’s staring after Arisu. “I’m going to go talk to them,” she says without looking at Chishiya. 

The briefest flicker of annoyance flashes through him. “Don’t tell him the plan.” 

“I won’t.” Then she’s walking away quickly, intent on catching up with Arisu. 

Chishiya watches her retreating back, turning over his dissatisfaction with her choice to leave, before approaching Kuina. “So, what do you think about him?” 

“I like him,” Kuina answers concisely. 

“What happened?”

“The usual. Aguni threatened the woman– her name’s Usagi, by the way– then he threatened to break Arisu’s legs when he fought back. Is he really going to be okay if he agrees to your plan?” 

Chishiya hums thoughtfully. “What did you like about him?”

“He seems brave, loyal. Nice.” Kuina shrugs. “What’s not to like? Maybe Misa will learn more. He seems like the type she’d be friends with.” She looks over his shoulder in the direction Misa disappeared after Arisu. 

Misa’s type, hmm? That’s likely true. She would value bravery, loyalty, kindness. All the things Chishiya is not. If he wasn’t careful, was he about to lose his ally to a worthy opponent? Chishiya doesn’t like the idea of it at all. 

“Whether he’s okay or not will depend on how well he can take care of himself. His cooperation is an essential part of the plan.” 

~Misa~

Misa jogs inside, searching the milling Beach residents until she catches sight of Arisu. She calls out his name and he pauses to look back, brow furrowed when he doesn’t immediately see a familiar face in the crowd.

When she reaches him, the cloud of confusion falls away. “You,” he begins. 

Misa nods. “From the five of spades game. I’m Misa. Kuina told me your name.” 

“This is Usagi.” He gestures to the woman beside him and she smiles tightly at Misa. 

“It’s nice to formally meet you both. I never got a chance to thank you. You saved our lives in the spades game. I won’t forget that.” 

Arisu smiles kindly. “I wasn’t sure if people would work together fast enough. I’m glad we did.” 

“I know you were evaluated for a spot as an executive of the Beach,” Misa cuts straight to the point. “Be careful. This place is…” Misa trails off, searching for the most apt descriptor. 

“Dangerous,” Usagi finishes for her, their eyes locking. 

“Very,” Misa confirms. “You don’t know until you’re here and by the time you’re here, it’s too late. I just wanted to warn you.” 

“Kuina explained the militants.” Arisu's mouth tightens into a thin line and he glances at Usagi. 

“Steer clear of Niragi. The one with the piercings. He’s the worst of the worst.” Misa pauses, then adds, “and don’t go anywhere alone.” 

The pair nod to her with a grim sort of gratitude. “What floor are you on? We’ll walk with you to your room,” Arisu offers. 

“That’s kind of you.” They chat as Misa guides them to her floor and she finds she genuinely enjoys their company. Both of their energies are a good match for her own. It’s calming, grounding being in their presence. Like how she feels around Chishiya. 

She says good night with an offer to meet up with them for breakfast the following morning, which they accept. Misa drags the desk chair over to wedge against the door. It’s not enough to keep anyone from entering but hopefully it would be enough of an obstacle to slow them down and wake her up. With that, she collapses onto the mattress, then into sleep. 

She wakes early the next morning, tucking the chair back under the desk. She opens her door to Chishiya whose hand is poised as if to knock. He instead redirects the gesture to a wave. 

“What are you doing here?” Misa asks. 

“I plan to recruit Arisu today.” 

“I was just going to meet them for breakfast.” 

“Good. I want to keep an eye on them. See what they make of the Beach.” He pulls a walkie talkie from his hoodie pocket, holding it out to Misa. “I’ll radio you when it’s time.” 

Misa takes it with a raised eyebrow. “Am I supposed to have this?”

“Not really,” Chishiya grins. “So don’t get caught.”

He turns to leave, but Misa catches his arm. “Can I trust you, Chishiya?” A nugget of worry has been stirring in her gut since Arisu showed up at the Beach. Misa didn’t understand why they needed him at all. Not that she wanted to go waltzing into Hatter’s suite to collect the cards herself, but she found it odd that Chishiya hadn’t even suggested it. Surely the three of them were more than enough. Why did Chishiya want Arisu’s help so badly?

Chishiya glances from her hand on his arm back up to her. “I’ve been honest about my intentions, Misa.” 

She stares into his eyes, rimmed by delicate lashes and a single offset mole, and decides that the only thing she can do is believe him. 

***

Misa waves Usagi and Arisu over to her table when they enter the dining hall. “How did you sleep?” 

“We’ve been camping outside, so this wasn’t so bad,” Arisu answers. 

“The Beach does have its comforts, I guess.” Misa has to admit having a warm, dry bed to sleep in is a definite perk. 

Usagi is studying her intently. “Did that happen at the Beach?” She asks quietly, her eyes coasting over the bruising on Misa’s cheek and throat. 

“Niragi,” is all Misa says by way of reply. She thinks back to seeing him at the pool last night, preparing to hurt Arisu. Seems her stab wound hasn’t slowed him down at all. She wishes she’d aimed for his eye. 

Usagi nods once at her and says no more. Misa feels a spark of camaraderie. Two women who saw no point in unnecessary words to illustrate unmistakable evil. 

As they eat, Misa learns a little about these new additions. Arisu liked playing video games before. Usagi is an avid climber. “You’re incredible,” Misa praises. “I saw what you could do during the spades game.” 

Usagi’s smile is tinged with sadness. “I climbed a lot with my dad.” Misa recognizes the loss there. A parental grief similar in shape to Misa’s own, but with a longing Misa would never be able to muster. She has no fond memories of her own father. 

They chat for a while, until Arisu announces that he and Usagi want to explore the Beach a little, get the lay of the land. They bid each other farewell in the lobby and go their separate ways. Misa returns to her room, nothing to do but wait for Chishiya’s radio call. 

It’s mid-afternoon when it finally comes. Chishiya asks her to meet him and Kuina outside along one of the back edges of the Beach. Misa picks her way through the interior until she finds an exit that will take her where she needs to go. She finds Chishiya and Kuina on a large veranda. A set of wide stone steps lead down to ground level. 

“Kuina saw Arisu heading this way. It won’t be long until he discovers the ugly underbelly of the Beach.” 

Misa is used to Chishiya’s cryptic words by now. “What do you mean?”

He points over the balcony ledge. Misa wanders over, standing on tiptoe to peer over the stone wall. A service door bangs open, two militants dragging someone who appears half-conscious across the concrete. They stop in front of a tarped-over dumpster, letting the person slump to the ground. One of the militants raises their rifle, and a single shot fires off. The other one removes the tarp and together, they heave the body atop the pile. Bile rises in Misa’s throat when she registers what she’s seeing. The mound of swimwear clad corpses heaped high in the dumpster. 

“The Beach’s golden rule,” Chishiya quips at her elbow. She knows the fear and disgust is undisguised on her face when she turns to him. His expression doesn’t exactly soften, there’s nothing soft about Chishiya, but his eyes lose a bit of their flat edge. “Don’t worry, you won’t be caught as a traitor. Let’s go.” 

Misa and Kuina follow him down the steps. As predicted, Arisu is there at the dumpster, gagging as he throws the tarp back over the bodies. 

“That is the true nature of this utopia. This is part of the Beach’s rules. Death to the traitors.” 

Misa hates how cavalier Chishiya sounds. Hates how close they are to a festering mass grave. “Let’s go somewhere else and talk.” She doesn’t even wait to see if they agree before striding away. That’s the thing about Chishiya though, he toys and taunts, but it’s not really an absolute power that he’s after. He’s not upset with Misa for interrupting him or taking charge. To him, these are all just moves on a gameboard. And being upset over a game is beneath him. 

They arrive to a rooftop drenched in sunlight. Misa blinks through narrowed eyes as she adjusts to the incandescent sheen bouncing off the painted roof. Even Chishiya scrunches an eye at the dazzling glare, and for a moment, he's declawed. As harmless as a cat napping in the sunshine.  

Chishiya speaks first. “Arisu. You and Usagi seem to have collected a vast amount of information. What are you both planning?” 

Arisu looks uncertainly between the three people before him. “Nothing much.” 

“I’ll cut to the chase. How will you live in this world that’s full of despair?” Misa’s gaze cuts sharply to Chishiya at his words. Laying it on thick, she thinks. 

“How?” Arisu no longer sounds uncertain. There’s a gloss of melancholy varnishing his words. “I just want to know the answers to my questions. The ones behind this crazy game. And who killed Karube and Chota.” Misa’s heart softens at the names of friends he must've lost in games. “I thought I’d be able to survive and return to the original world with everyone. If that’s not possible, I want Usagi to return, at the very least. This is the only reason why I’m still alive.” Now, her heart melts. A beautiful aim, anchored in a resolution to fight for those you love. What would it be like, to have that kind of purpose directed towards her?

Chishiya laughs, hanging his head. “What a tearjerker. Your dream…” He walks a few paces away to the edge of the roof. “It’s cool but it's not practical at all.” 

Misa winces, pondering Chishiya’s profile. Unsurprising, that the nihilist would see little value in things like love and hope. He’d told her before, with the kids, just what he thought of sentimental premises like that.  

Then Kuina also laughs and steps forward as well, as if this is a choreographed moment. And, it occurs to Misa, maybe it is. Kuina and Chishiya were allied before Misa ever entered the picture. They have a working rapport she’s not included in. What other moves and measures might they be taking without her awareness? Kuina folds her arms across her chest. “You’ll have to win all the games and become the next number one, but that’s impossible.” 

Arisu shakes his head. “It has nothing to do with you guys.”

Chishiya glances at her and Kuina. “We think you have potential.” 

“What?” Arisu’s skepticism arches his brow.

“That’s why we came to meet you,” Chishiya clarifies. 

“What do you mean?”

“What if I said there’s a way to change the status quo all at once?”

Arisu looks at Chishiya with obvious interest, his eyes flicking over to Misa. Chishiya tracks the look and gives Misa a subtle nod. 

Misa feels her strings being pulled but is unable, or unwilling, to cut herself off from the marionette master. Chishiya’s plan might confuse her, but she understands that Arisu is an important piece of it to him. “We think we can help each other. So that we all get out of here alive,” she urges Arisu. 

Chishiya picks up the thread she left to continue weaving. “Hatter is trying to keep the militants in check. But it's only a matter of time before they retaliate. If that happens, this place will be controlled by the militants who don't know how to use their brains. Then there'd be no point staying here.”

“What are you planning?” Misa can tell that while Arisu may also be highly intelligent, he does not use it like a noose that he can tighten for control, not like Chishiya. His interest in Chishiya’s proposition is worn on his sleeve. His expression is cautious, but open. There would be no subterfuge from him.  

Chishiya bares his characteristic furtive grin. “I’m planning to steal all the playing cards and leave the Beach.”

Arisu stares at him open-mouthed. “Is he serious?” He asks Misa. “Is it possible?”

Misa shrugs. “Chishiya says so and I believe him. But we need to work together.” 

Arisu squints into the sunlight. “I need to talk to Usagi.” 

“Of course,” Chishiya affirms. “Come find us when you’re ready.” 

Arisu nods, glancing back once as he leaves them behind on the roof. 

Chishiya sighs. “I think that went well.” 

“You think he’ll agree?” Kuina asks. 

“Yes,” Misa answers without a trace of doubt. “He doesn’t want to act without Usagi’s approval, but the decision is already made. He wants a way out of here for her and we’ve just handed him one.” 

Kuina scuffs a flip-flop against the ground. “Great. Well, I need a nap. I’ll see you two later.” She shuffles out of sight, stifling a yawn. It’s a good idea to catch what sleep they can before they put their plan into action and untold chaos unfolds, but Misa stays behind with Chishiya.

Gazing out over the horizon he asks Misa, “What do you like about Arisu?”

Misa contemplates for a moment. “He’s got a good heart.” 

Chishiya casts a side-long glance at her, the gesture further highlighting his cat-like demeanor. “What about me?”

Misa’s perplexed. “What about you? Do I think you have a good heart? I don’t know, Chishiya. It’s an abstruse thing, concealed under layers of artifice. I’m never sure what it is you’re really feeling.” 

“I meant, what do you like about me?”

He asks so cheerfully Misa wonders if he even wants an honest answer or if he’s somehow trying to goad her. “Who says I like you at all?”

Chishiya’s brows tick upwards, but he makes no reply, as if he refuses to indulge such an obvious obfuscation of the truth. What did Misa like about him? She liked that Chishiya wasn’t the snake in the grass. He was the snake that climbed down from the tree to wrap around your neck and it was your own fault if you didn't see it coming before he squeezed. She likes that he doesn’t try to hide what he is, that there may be things about him that were monstrous, yet he wasn’t a monster. The idea of comparing him to Niragi repulses her, but she can’t deny the parallels. Two men, highly skilled at playing the games, ranked amongst the top members of the Beach but utterly divergent in what they chose to do with that authority. 

Misa knew Chishiya had the potential to be a monster too, if he let go, if the frayed rope attaching him to his humanity snapped for good. But she’s seen the places where it is stubbornly hanging on. Maybe he cared about her for his own ends… maybe he just cared. A fragile, damaged thing Misa saw reflected in herself. How many times had she been on the verge of cursing the whole world, of washing her hands of empathy? Every time, some small kindness had brought her back to herself. A hot bowl of soup freely given here, a dry room to stay in when she couldn’t possibly afford the deposit there. Misa had fought tooth and nail to cling to her conviction to return those random acts of compassion in her own life. Some days, it was the only thing that got her out of bed. 

“I like,” Misa says slowly. “That when you look at me, it’s like you really see me.” She expected Chishiya would argue that when he looks at her, he sees only a component he can utilize in his designs, but it’s true. His cool gaze fixes on her and she feels seen, she feels whole. The light and dark parts of her regarded with equal measure. “And you, Chishiya? Have you thought about what you like about me?” 

He squints in the sunlight. “I like that when you look at me…” His languorous perusal slips over her features. “You don’t look away.” 

~Misa~

In what’s becoming a familiar sight, Kuina waits for them in the lobby when they return. She gives them both a once over, gaze scanning briefly over Chishiya then halting when she sees the blood on Misa’s leg. She frowns. “Your stitches?” 

“Ripped to hell,” Misa responds. 

Kuina turns her frown on Chishiya as if this is personally his fault, which Misa finds endearing. He laughs once. “What? I didn’t rip them.” 

Kuina spins the dummy cigarette to the other side of her mouth with her tongue. “Obviously. But you can fix them right?” 

Chishiya raises an eyebrow, turning to Misa, his lips curved in a smile. “I suppose I could, but I fear it may give someone ideas about my intentions.” 

Kuina’s frown deepens at the bizarre statement, but Misa sees the glinting steel edge of a comment meant to slice. A reminder that Chishiya is not her friend. A predatory playfulness, like a cat toying with a mouse. A warning: see me as a friend at your own risk. But Misa watched as Chishiya happily let that other player open doors ahead of him. He’d hung back and waited for someone else to do the dirty work. And yet. He’d entered before Misa. A perfectly presented meat shield and Chishiya Shuntarou had chosen not to use it. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t think about anything that you don’t show me,” Misa says cryptically. 

Chishiya studies her for a beat, two. “Follow me.” He leads them to his room, instructs her to sit on the edge of the bed. Kuina leans against the desk, watching. Chishiya retrieves a medical kit from the bathroom, then begins the unpleasant process of unwrapping the bloodied gauze around Misa’s leg. She winces as the dried blood and fabric pulls at the reopened wound. Chishiya offers no words of comfort, but at least he works quietly and methodically. 

Kuina distracts Misa by asking questions about their game. Normally, Misa wouldn't like to rehash a game, but she welcomes the excuse to ignore Chishiya’s hands tugging at her tender skin. He finishes faster than she would have thought. 

“It wasn’t so bad. The blood made it look worse. Be careful on it and it’ll continue to heal.” 

“Thanks.” Misa rises, testing her weight on the leg. It aches, but it’s doable. Not one to overstay her welcome, Misa heads to the door. “See you later.” She slips out of the room before anyone, mostly Kuina, can stop her. 

Misa sleeps deeply that night. No doubt exhausted from the game and the blood loss. When she finally cracks her eyes open the next day, she’s loath to part from her bed. So she decides not to. She sustains herself on the few dried, shelf-stable foods and bottles of water she’d squirreled away for later. She looks out the window like she’s watching television. For the second night in a row, she sleeps soundly. 

Misa wakes the following day feeling more rested than she’s felt since coming to the Borderland– maybe even before that. The pain in her leg has waned considerably she’s delighted to find as she climbs the stairs to the roof. She sends a silent plea to the sky to let it be empty before pushing the door open. The sun beats down, hot but not oppressive. She relishes in the feel of it on her skin, but still makes her way to the shadowy wall where Chishiya’s knife is hidden. Though the shadows haven’t crept too far out yet in the late morning sun.

Misa settles onto the ground, wiggling the loose brick free and tucking the knife into her palm. She places the brick back into the wall so nothing will look amiss. Then she engages in a favorite childhood pastime, cloud-gazing. She can’t count how many summer afternoons she spent sitting on a bench or lying in the grass at her neighborhood park. It’d been her refuge during the school-less weeks. Even when it rained, Misa would still come and curl up in the slide to stay dry.

But when the skies were blue, Misa loved to watch the clouds. She’d make up all kinds of fantastical stories about scenes she saw playing out across that azure stage. For Misa, every hour spent with the clouds was one she didn’t have to spend listening to her father’s rants or intoxicated snores. Occasionally, the auntie who ran the nearby convenience store would wander over and drop a popsicle into Misa’s hands without a word. Misa would mumble a quiet thank you, marveling at the bright, citrussy flavor dancing over her tongue. Frequently the local cat– who Misa never allowed herself to think of as her own– would saunter over and curl up in her lap. These were some of her fondest memories of childhood. Looking back on them as an adult, it was easy to identify them as the sole amalgamation of Misa actually getting to be a child. Watching the clouds now, she loses herself in admiration for the beauty that still exists in this battlefield of life and death. If Misa could find the beauty in her youth, she could sure as hell find it in the Borderland. 

Misa is pulled from her clouds and her reminiscing by the sound of the heavy roof door creaking open and then banging closed. She watches the corner expectantly, thinking it must be Chishiya and trying not to examine her eagerness at that. Earlier she’d wanted solitude, now the company of a certain cat-eyed schemer didn’t sound so bad. But her pulse jumps unpleasantly at the figure that rounds the side of the building. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t a little bird in her little roost. All alone.” 

Misa supposes the one silver-lining right now is that Niragi is also alone. His usual goons are absent from his side. Misa sends a quick word of gratitude to her clouds. A reflection of her risk-riddled life? That she’s feeling thankful she only has one slimy bastard to fight off. And this will be a fight, that much is clear in Niragi’s sneering smile and soulless eyes. He’d probably come here looking for her, having not forgiven her perceived slights against him. This is what men like him do with power. They press their thumb so hard it grinds everything under it into their malleable control.

Misa refuses. She didn’t claw her way out from under her father and his debt collectors to succumb now. Slowly, she rises to her feet. She keeps the knife concealed in her palm, pressing it flat against the back of her leg, hoping her posture conveys scared and nothing more. She needs him to think this will be easy. 

Niragi slings his rifle off his shoulder and props it against the side of the building. As expected, Misa thinks. She knows he didn’t come here to kill her, not literally at least. He paces towards her. “I think we have some unfinished business. We keep getting interrupted, I don’t think that’ll happen this time.” His tongue flicks over the corner of his mouth and Misa realizes with dread that his goons are missing only because they’re guarding the door. “I believe I promised you a personal debriefing before.” Then he lunges at her. 

Misa doesn’t scream, she doesn’t say a word. His hand closes around her throat and slams her back into the wall. For a moment, her thoughts are slowed. Addled by the force of skull against stone and her breath whooshing out of her chest. Then she blinks to clarity as Niragi’s tongue drags up her neck and remembers what she was waiting for. She means to catch him in the ribs but doesn't account for his arm barred across her stomach. Still, the blade finds flesh, drawing a satisfying bright red line across his forearm.

He yells, releasing her and stepping back to look at his arm. “You bitch!” He spits. Misa is already moving, taking him by surprise. This time she hits her target, steel sinking satisfyingly into his side. It’s a short blade and she can’t imagine it’s enough to kill him outright. But maybe if she pokes enough holes.

He grunts, eyes widening and she can tell he’s shocked that she’s managed to get the jump on him. He backhands her across the cheek hard enough to send her tumbling to the ground. She scrapes her shoulder and knuckles against the wall as she falls but maintains enough sense to keep the knife firmly gripped in her other hand. Concrete scratches up her knees as she attempts to scramble away. A hand closes around her ankle, yanking her back and she yelps. She twists around and sends her foot into his face. Blood immediately pours into his eye and Misa thinks what luck she must have to kick him right in his eyebrow piercing. 

Some part of Misa knows that failing to kill him right now will mean bigger problems later, but after two blows to the head, she no longer trusts her odds of slashing him up until he stops moving. She suspects he's like a cockroach — hard to kill. And Misa feels woozy and unbalanced. Her height and body weight at a distinct disadvantage against the wolf staring her down. This gap between them will only widen if her reflexes are slowed and her ability to think quickly is dimmed. 

While Niragi is distracted by his blood-filled vision, Misa lurches to her feet, racing to the edge of the building where he left his rifle. In theory she knows how to use a gun. Point and click. In reality, she’s never pulled a trigger in her life. Once, when she was around twelve, she found the handgun her father had acquired from god only knows where and raised it with terrified hands to ward off a loan shark at their door. It had worked and the man had retreated with threats to return later. He never did, at least not while Misa was home. Misa wore that moment like a badge of pride. Despite being a child and small and petrified, she’d fooled him with her steely determination. She’d felt dangerous for once and it had been exhilarating. 

Niragi is stumbling to his feet. Misa glances back to see him holding a hand to his forehead and against his side. She scoops up the rifle, racing towards the exit. She flings the door open, gun pointed into the opening, prepared to fend off more militants but there’s nobody there after all. If she wasn’t busy taking the steps two at a time, ignoring the searing pain of her leg, she would laugh at the arrogance of it all, at the irony. Niragi had come for her alone because he saw her as an insignificant pawn to do with as he pleased. Now he paid the price for that. Grimly, she thinks, he won’t make that mistake again. 

Misa ditches the rifle on a random floor in the stairwell. She knows it would provide a layer of protection but she can’t make it back to her room with it unnoticed. The knife she shoves into her hoodie pocket, still clenched in her fist. 

She makes it back to her room without incident. Niragi could find her here, all he has to do is check her room assignment in the logbook. But she doesn't think he will. At least not right away, with injuries to attend to. And probably not at all. He’ll lie in wait like any animal who enjoys the thrill of the hunt. She’s as safe as she’s going to be right now. 

She slides down a wall in the corner of the room. She doesn’t cry, her eyes don’t even tear up. Belatedly, she registers her hammering heart beat and considers that she’s probably in shock. Miraculously, the stitches on her leg haven’t opened again from her mad dash. Her knees are scraped up, as are the knuckles of one hand and the palm of the other from where she fell. Her shoulder is likely only bruised, saved from the worst of the concrete by her hoodie. Her throat hurts and she knows it will likely show visible marks. 

Misa stares off into space. She tries to name an emotion that she’s feeling, any emotion, but comes up blank. The only thought she can seem to grasp is that she must get out of the Beach. 

~Chishiya~

Chishiya idles in one of his usual spots– the balconies overlooking the Beach’s lobby. It’s not that he specifically enjoys people watching, it’s just that the activity yields useful information. Such as now, when Chishiya’s attention is drawn to angrily muted voices coming down the hallway. Spying a group of militants, Chishiya steps back into the balcony to hide behind the pillar and eavesdrop. When the voices grow no louder, he peeks around the pillar. The group has halted. Niragi is surrounded by three other militants anxiously asking him questions. They speak in hushed tones which would automatically pique Chishiya’s curiosity if the drying blood on Niragi’s face hadn’t done it first. Upon closer examination, Chishiya notices the hand Niragi holds against his stomach and the dark stain on his shirt. He’s injured.

Chishiya concentrates to make out any of the words being said. What he picks up from Niragi paints enough of a picture. The words “stabbed,” “that bitch,” and “roof” jumping out at Chishiya. Now, how many people might find themselves on the roof with a knife? Chishiya can think of only one component that completes that equation perfectly. Niragi and the militants move off down a perpendicular hall and Chishiya heads in the opposite direction, his thoughts on Misa. He walks towards her room, feeling unsettled. Like suddenly remembering he didn’t lock his front door when he’s already halfway to work.

Remembering the taser sitting on the desk in his room, he changes course to first go pick that up. It needs to be recharged following their last game but it’ll still have a bit of juice left. He’d forgotten to give it back to her before. He chastises himself for the oversight. Isn’t this exactly what he feared happening? He can’t use her if there’s nothing left to use. What will he find when he enters her room? A version of her that can still be valuable to him? 

He knocks on her door with no answer. It’s possible she fled elsewhere. It’s possible she needs Kuina’s warmth more than his icy detachedness. Chishiya doesn’t care though. What he needs is to assess the damage. And his needs always come first. So he knocks again, calling softly, "it's me.” 

Silence, then, “Chishiya?” 

He takes this as tacit approval for entry. Misa is sitting in the far corner of the room, past the bed. Her knees are drawn to her chest and his knife is held in her hands atop them. Her eyes are dry, her expression reticent. She gazes up at him, that mind he’s so intrigued by clearly piecing the puzzle together. “How did you know?” She finally asks. 

“I overheard Niragi.” 

“He’s alive then?”

Chishiya nods. 

She chuckles, holding up his knife. “You couldn’t have hidden a bigger blade?” 

“I’ll work on that for next time.” 

Her smile fades, though it never reached her eyes in the first place. “Next time, I’m dead. I really pissed him off.” 

Chishiya considers again if the most useful thing he can do to recover this situation is find Kuina. Instead, he joins Misa on the floor, sitting shoulder to shoulder. The shape of a bruise is forming on her cheek and Chishiya knows she’s not wrong. He’d been thinking for a while now that the Beach is going to kill them all eventually. He observes the dried blood on her knees. But it is going to kill her faster. 

“We need to leave the Beach.” Chishiya is careful to say we, to make her a part of the plan. It’s important she feels in on the joke for the punchline to land. He has a vague idea of what needs to happen, but it’s dangerous and he won’t do it himself. He needs someone to puppeteer. Why not her? 

“You have a plan?” She asks, staring straight ahead. 

“I’m starting to.” 

“Will it get me killed?” She turns those dark eyes on him and Chishiya is reminded of her number one rule. Tell me the truth, even when it’s dark. 

He’s always loved the concept of plausible deniability. “It could get all of us killed.” Technically the truth, just not all of it. 

She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall. “Then I’m in.” Confident and unconcerned she flies right into a spider’s web. 

Suddenly, inexplicably, Chishiya wants more. “What did you do? Before coming here?” 

“I was a psychiatric nurse.” 

Hundreds of hospitals in Tokyo… The odds are so slim but Chishiya can’t help asking, “Which hospital?”

“Sakurazaka University Hospital.” Her eyes are closed. 

Out of all the hospitals and all the purgatories, they just happened to end up in the same one twice. Chishiya doesn’t believe in a higher power, but anyone else would be moved by such a fate. He’s still contemplating the tangle of their lives when Misa’s head drops onto his shoulder. A smugness blots out his curiosity. He’s achieved his goal. She trusts him. At least enough to drop her guard and give him her back for safekeeping. Or perhaps the exhaustion of the trauma she just went through would overwhelm her regardless of who sat beside her. But Chishiya is prideful and finds he doesn’t care for that possibility. 

The knife dangles precariously from her fingers. He eases it from her grip, laying it on the ground beside him. Her hands are roughened from her fight with Niragi. He takes her hand between his, fingers trailing over her banged up knuckles, then her kneecaps which fare no better. Abruptly, he freezes, questioning his own actions. Why is he inspecting her injuries with something akin to concern? What is it to him if she suffers superficial wounds? These minor lacerations are no threat to her life. So why had he trained his doctor’s eye on them, why had he been running through a mental checklist of the supplies he’d require to disinfect them? 

Her head on his shoulder is a not unpleasant weight. He scours his emotions and finds no desire to shove her off of him. Her hair cascades over her face, obscuring her features. A hand reaches up to tuck the strands behind her ear. It’s a mild revelation when Chishiya discovers the hand belongs to him. The gesture is foreign to him, he’s never done this before. His fingertips linger against the soft shell of her ear. Then he runs them through the length of her hair. The motion lifts the hair from her throat, revealing a ring of bruising. Exactly the kind that happens when hands wrap and squeeze. Chishiya lets her hair fall back into place. 

The sensation of touching another person like this is strange. All of this is strange, in fact. He watches her sleep, while he dissects this unknown variable. Chishiya wanted to keep her close, to earn her trust because of her intelligence. While not his equal, he could benefit greatly from her abilities. This is the core reason he doesn’t want Niragi to harm her, isn’t it? Chishiya wouldn’t go so far as to say that he feels angry about what Niragi has done. It’s more a feeling that this attack on Misa is personal somehow. Which is when it occurs to Chishiya that perhaps Misa isn’t simply another tool. When your tool breaks, you throw it away and get a new one. You don’t feel moved by its broken plight. But that’s what Chishiya is right now, isn’t he? Moved by the prospect of a Misa who is hurt beyond his ability to repair. Irritated by the idea of having to toss her to the wayside, her intellect no longer an accompaniment to his own. 

So, the logical conclusion is that Misa might mean something different to him. Closer to his remote fondness for Kuina, perhaps. That woman isn't his friend either, Chishiya doesn't have friends, but he respects her sharp intuition about people. And he needs her. His plans require support. Kuina never presses for more than he is willing to give, so he's never felt annoyed by her presence. In return, he's been searching for a new person to bring into the fold, to manipulate into doing what he needed. 

If Misa is not quite a tool to use and discard, then perhaps she's an associate of sorts. They are real life coworkers after all. And if his category for their relationship is thus changing… how can he use her as the disposable pawn in the game of chess he’s setting up? Allowing your coworker to be killed wasn't the same as allowing your umbrella to be shredded by the wind. Chishiya wouldn't feel particularly affected by either, but a good coworker is a lot harder to replace than an umbrella. 

Rue is once again recovering from life threatening injuries on the Polar Tang. With one marked difference. Instead of waking up to the harsh lights of the medical bay, she awakes tangled in the sheets of Trafalgar Law’s bed. The pirate in question is, however, noticeably missing. 

Rue stretches out sore muscles, her arms reaching towards the ceiling. Days post-escape from the Fang Pirates she hurts less, but she still hurts. She's spent most of those days curled up in Law's bedroom dozing or reading books. Wondering how much longer Trafalgar Law can pretend nothing happened between them. 

She eases her feet into the slippers placed at the foot of the bed, padding softly to the closed door. She cracks it open, peeking out to discover Law at his desk, bent over a tome splayed open in front of him. His forehead rests in his hand, fingers carded through his hair.

At the sound of the door opening, he lifts his eyes to her. “Do you need something?” He asks at once, his tone falling somewhere around concerned innkeeper who’s worried they’re about to get a bad review. 

Rue shakes her head. “Just came to see what you were doing.” Her fingers brush over the soft fur of his hat sitting on the edge of his desk.

“I've been studying some texts,” Law replies, avoiding looking up into her eyes. 

Rue’s gaze travels over to the sofa and the pillow sitting atop a neatly folded blanket. Since the day Law kissed her— and he had kissed her— he's been interacting with her as if she were a wounded bird that he was wary of startling into a heart attack if he approached too quickly. After spending that one night sleeping next to her, he'd politely gathered up his pillow and informed her that she needed to rest alone to ensure her full recovery. And Rue had politely refrained from telling him that this sounded like bullshit. 

He hadn't kicked her out of his room or insisted she return to her own. He tended to her injuries with discernible care. His hands soft against her skin, his ears flushed red and his breaths concerningly shallow. Whatever this strange dance of awkwardness happening between them was, Rue knew that it didn't stem from Trafalgar Law not wanting her. His caution towards her felt more like he was afraid to want. Afraid that if he tried to hold onto something too tightly, it would shatter in his hands. And how could Rue not recognize that fear when it had been the guiding force in her own life for as long as she could remember? 

But as soon as Trafalgar Law’s lips had touched hers, Rue knew she didn’t want anything else. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life trying to outrun everything that made her human. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to be here, with Law, with the Heart Pirates. Now, she just needs to figure out how to make Law stop tiptoeing around her like she’s fragile glass about to tumble off a shelf.  

“I think I’ll go visit Abigail,” Rue informs Law, drifting towards the door. He nods at her, smiles vacantly. She holds back a sigh and leaves. 

Rue finds Abby in the galley, surrounded by the crew crowding in around her and Shachi seated at the table. Playing cards are laid out across the surface and fanned in Abby and Shachi’s hands. Rue watches with amusement as bets are called and Shachi loses in spectacular fashion.

Shachi hangs his head groaning and Penguin whoops ecstatically. “You’ve hustled him!” Shachi glares at Penguin’s enthusiastic goading. 

Abby grins. “I never said I couldn’t play poker, just that I hadn’t played in a while.”

So many things Rue doesn’t know about this person she grew up with. It’s not like they were hustling poker at the orphanage. When did Abby learn to play? How did she get so good? What’s her favorite thing to eat? Does she like listening to music? Rue’s heart aches at the lost time, the moments she let be stolen. She doesn’t want to do that anymore, mourn when she never even fought.  

Abby looks up, catching Rue’s eye. She frowns at whatever expression she finds on her face. “Sorry, lads, I’ll have to win the rest of your berry some other time.” She tosses a wink to Ikkaku, then beckons Rue to follow her. When they’re shut away in Abigail’s room, she turns to Rue, hands on her hips. “What’s wrong?” 

Rue smiles. “How do you know something’s wrong?” 

Abby rolls her eyes. “We haven’t seen each other in years, but we did grow up together. I know when you've got something to say.” 

Rue decides it’s long past time to get straight to the point. “I’m sorry, Abigail. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I failed you. I should’ve done more.” 

Abby’s expression softens. “We were children, Cerulean. I thought I hated you. For the longest time, I really believed you let me be taken and saved yourself.” Sorrow shapes itself around her smile. “I don’t think that anymore.” 

Rue swallows hard. “I was so afraid of needing anyone, of asking for help. I think that’s why I didn’t tell you sooner what was happening at the orphanage.” Rue feels like she must get this out, a poison that needs to be purged from her system. “I thought I could do everything myself and it would be fine. But it wasn’t and it cost me someone I love.” Rue takes a deep breath. “You owe me nothing, Abby. But I’d like to ask if we could start over? I know it’s been a fucked up kind of fate that brought us back together, and I know it might be selfish, but if it’s at all possible… I don’t want to lose you again.” Rue finishes her speech with a stuttering breath and wet cheeks. 

For a moment Abigail says nothing and Rue braces for the sharp sting of rejection, but then she smiles, warm and bright. “We’ve always been sisters, Rue. Who else could be so epically horrible to one another?” Abby jests, but the tear tracks on her cheeks mirror Rue’s. Then they’re both laughing and wrapping their arms around each other in a fierce, decade-late hug. 

They spend the entire day catching up on each other’s lives. Swapping stories– some adventurous, some harrowing. They talk until they’re falling asleep next to each other, sharing the same pillow. 

When Rue wakes up the next morning, Abigail is already up and a plate of fruit and toast waits on a table for Rue. Her friend gestures to the food. “You better eat that and then go tend to that captain of yours.” 

Rue narrows her eyes at Abby’s smirk. “What do you mean?” 

“The way he accosted me over breakfast, you’d think I was stealing you away in the middle of the night to be my bride.” 

Rue throws a pillow at her. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

Abby deftly blocks the plush projectile, but her grin only grows. “I might be being a bit dramatic but he seemed genuinely concerned that you missed your medicine yesterday.” Abby tilts her head thoughtfully. “He’s in love with you, you know?” 

Rue’s heart leaps into her throat. “We haven’t talked about that.” 

Abby shrugs. “Whether you’ve talked about it or not doesn’t stop something from being true.” 

“He’s been…careful with me since I got back.” Rue chews on her lip. “Like he’s afraid of something happening.” 

Abigail hums in thought. “Then I guess you have to give him a reason to be brave.” 

Rue mulls over Abigail’s words during the walk back to Trafalgar Law’s office. What if she’s misread everything that’s happened between them? She’s not sure how many ways there are to interpret a kiss, but… Maybe Law got worked up in the heat of the moment and regrets what he did. Could Rue survive the humiliation, the heartbreak if she brings it up to him and he rejects her outright? But no, that sounds too much like the old Rue talking. The one who ran from her problems instead of facing them. She could be brave for both of them. 

Law’s sitting on the couch, a naval chart spread in front of him and a notebook and pen in his hands. Rue drops to the sofa beside him. “What are you looking at?” 

“The possible routes to Saobody Archipelago. That’s where you enter the New World. The second half of the Grand Line,” he clarifies for her benefit. 

“That’s where you’re headed, right?” Rue may not be a pirate, but you didn’t grow up amongst the chaotic waters of the Grand Line and not know that’s where all pirates were eventually headed. 

Law nods. “I have something I need to do there.” 

“I could help you.” 

Law’s gaze snaps to hers. He almost looks alarmed by the suggestion before he smooths his features over. “That’s not necessary. I never expected anything in return for helping with the Fang Pirates.” 

Rue steels herself. “Don’t do that,” she says, pleased when it sounds stern rather than pleading. Law stiffens beside her but doesn’t respond. “Don’t shut me out.” 

Law’s shoulders slump. “I don’t know how to let anyone in.” 

Rue thinks of his beautiful, boisterous crew who places their faith and trust in him and doesn’t believe him for a second. But she knows this resistance to vulnerability well. She thinks back to the first time she’d met Trafalgar Law. When she’d been so certain his offers of help were manipulations dressed-up in pleasantries. He’d been patient with her, and she could be that for him now. 

“I don’t either,” she says, taking his hand. He doesn’t pull away when their eyes meet. “But I’d like to try. With you.” 

“I have goals I can’t abandon.” 

“I would never ask you too,” Rue promises. 

He tugs his hand from hers, but only to take her own between his palms. “I’m not a good man, Cerulean. I don’t know what future I could give you.” 

The corner of her mouth tugs up on a smile. “Who says I wanted a good man? I’m rather coming around to the life of a pirate.” She meant it as a joke, to lighten the heaviness behind his eyes, to reassure him she knows who he is and it doesn’t change how she feels. But the effect is like she’s zapped him with a strong electrical current. He jerks away from her, rising to his feet at the same time. 

“You don’t want this life. You hate pirates.” He sounds like he’s trying to remind himself of something and in the process has completely forgotten to consider how Rue actually feels. 

“Turns out, I don’t hate all pirates.” She stares up at him from her place on the sofa but he won’t look at her now. “I could never hate you, Trafalgar Law.” She teeters closer and closer to that terrifying cliff edge of truth. 

Law turns away abruptly, making for the door. “I need to run some coordinates with Bepo. There’s medicine on the desk. I’ll see you at dinner.” 

He’s gone before Rue can wrap her head around what’s just happened. She collapses back into the cushions, hugging Law’s pillow to her chest. She’s never seen Trafalgar Law rattled like that– and she’d tried plenty of methods to ruffle his feathers before. She taps her fingers while she deliberates what to do about his avoidance of their feelings. Maybe if he won’t listen to her words, he’ll listen to her song. 

She picks up the notebook he’d discarded on the coffee table, flipping to a blank page. She loses herself to the music inside her head. Letting the words and melody that had first surfaced during her confinement on the Fang Pirates ship take a final form. Cerulean Blake was determined to pour her heart out to the Surgeon of Death in an operation he couldn’t ignore. 

***

Nervous energy thrums through her as she takes a seat between Bepo and Penguin at the dinner table. Nervous about what Law will think of what she has to say. Nervous to sing by choice for the first time since getting devil fruit powers. She no longer has any fear of accidentally using those powers on unsuspecting innocents, but it’s still strange to have them hovering there at the periphery. An everpresent secret chord she can strike at any moment to compel others to her will. A shiver goes through her at the true terror of devil fruit powers in the hands of the wicked. 

Bepo must notice her mood, because he leans in and whispers, “are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Just… thinking about a lot.” 

Bepo’s brows scrunch in that way she finds adorable. “We’re all here for you,” he says with such sincerity it softens her disquieted heart. 

Penguin hears this and pipes in, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “That’s right! You’re one of us, we’ve got your back!” 

And just like that, Rue’s nerves are soothed. Because the song she wants to sing isn’t only for Trafalgar Law. It’s for everyone around this table. The Heart Pirates. Who came to her rescue when she was at her lowest. Who chose to save her and welcome her in– even when she behaved like a feral alley cat. She wants them to know of her gratitude, to know that they gave her a place that she wants to belong. 

Trafalgar Law joins the meal so late, that Rue had started to worry her grand display of affection would have to be rescheduled. But he finally takes his seat at the head of the table and Rue vibrates on her own while she attempts to wait a respectable length of time for him to eat a little. Her leg bounces up and down and Penguin cocks his head at her with a questioning look. She smiles abashedly and shakes her head. 

Finally, when she can take it no longer, she springs out of her seat and boldly declares, “I’d like to sing a song for everyone.” 

The chatter cuts off as the crew turns to her. Law’s fork is frozen against his plate, his eyes boring a hole through the tabletop. Abby nods enthusiastically as if she already knows exactly what Rue has planned. And maybe she does because seemingly out of nowhere she pulls out a guitar and says, “I’ll accompany you!” 

Rue nods her agreement. She steps out from the bench seating and moves to the front of the room. She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She nods again at Abby whose fingers are poised against the strings, waiting for Rue to set the tempo. So Rue does. The notes fall softly at first, but as Rue dives into the comfort of being in her element, the song carries itself confidently into the room. Abigail doesn’t miss a beat, playing seamlessly as if Rue and her have done this a million times. And maybe someday they will have. 

“This is a tale of a lonely girl.

Fell from a window, lost her whole world.

Spent her life side-by-side with fear. 

Always on the run, never staying here.  

She made mistakes and learned lessons hard.

She should’ve been a friend but wound up a bard.”

Abby meets Rue’s eyes with a kind smile. Heartbeat hammering against her chest, Rue continues singing, sharing the story of her life with the crew. Her regrets, her shame, but also her hopes and her dreams of being with them for a long time. She weaves her love for the Heart Pirates into the lyrics of this song. A ballad that she started to compose when she thought that she may very well die in the bowels of Malax Fangle’s ship and the Heart Pirates had been the one thing to provide her with solace. 

“Bruised as the fruit she hid away in. 

Little did she know it would bring her to them. 

She struck out with hate, but they met her with grace. 

He patched her wounds, they healed her soul.

He made her safe, they gave her a reason not to go.” 

Trafalgar Law, at last, looks up at her, his pupils blown wide and his mouth agape. She can practically see the tempest raging in his mind. She sings the last bit directly to him. 

“Now that lonely girl who grew up in the dark, 

Who had only fear that if she loved, they’d depart, 

Wants to stay right here, with the pirates in her heart.” 

The last notes fade away and Rue realizes the crew is weeping and clapping in turn. Bepo gathers her into a bone-crushing hug that everyone else somehow wedges themselves into. Through the tangle of limbs, Rue can just make out Law staggering back from the table and careening towards the door. Rue allows herself a moment to bask in this acceptance from the Heart Pirates before extricating herself and following Law. Abby, great seas bless her, keeps the crew distracted by striking up a celebratory tune on the guitar. 

Rue throws open the door to Law’s office, prepared to coax him out from behind whatever walls he’s barricaded his emotions behind. But the door barely closes after her before he’s pinning her against it. She yelps in surprise and his mouth closes over hers. His tongue slips between her lips, sweeping over her own and she moans. This spurs him on. His fingers find the nape of her neck and squeeze, angling her up to meet his ferocious kiss. His other hand twines through her fingers, raising their joined hands to press against the door behind her. He trails hot kisses along her jaw, down her neck. 

Through her lust-filled haze, Rue remembers that there’s a question she needs answered. She tugs at his hair and whispers, “wait.” 

Law stills immediately against her, breathing raggedly. He draws back, horror already contorting his features. Rue shakes her head emphatically and wraps his arms around her waist. She loops hers around his shoulders, pulling them flush together. He watches her with confusion but waits for her to speak. 

She stumbles over her words, her fingers twisting nervously in Law’s hair. “I thought… I was wondering…” A smile begins to turn up the corners of Law’s mouth as she tries to form her question into a coherent sentence. This calms her and she sighs in exasperation with herself. “Would you ask me again?”

Now Law’s smile breaks wide and utterly radiant across his face. She has never seen him smile like this. It’s going to be etched into her mind as if the sun itself has burned a pattern into her vision that she’ll see every time she closes her eyes. “Cerulean Blake, would you like to join my crew?” 

She sings her answer, arching up on tiptoes. “Yes, Trafalgar Law. The most fearsome pirate that I ever knew.” She nips playfully at his jaw, earning her a laugh. “I would love to be a part of your crew.”

Law’s gaze turns dark, devouring as he grips her below the thighs. He drinks in her gasp as he hoists her up, trapping her between the door and his body. Her fingers scrabble at the hem of his shirt and sensing what she wants, he frees up enough space between them for her to wrest his shirt over his head. Her hands plane over the firm muscles of his back. 

Without breaking their kiss, Law walks them to his desk, sitting Rue down atop it. They both haphazardly push textbooks to the floor. Rue’s afforded the perfect vantage point to take in all of the Surgeon of Death’s many tattoos. A feast for the eyes– and Rue’s mouth, as she realizes nothing is stopping her from tracing the tip of her tongue against the black ink heart spanning across his chest. Law’s head falls back with a groan, his hands cradling the back of her head. 

She grins up at him and Law smirks back, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger he tilts her head up, dropping a deep kiss against her lips. His fingers trail under her shirt, pushing the fabric slowly higher and higher until Rue grows so impatient she reaches down and yanks it over her head herself. Law laughs against her neck. She drops further back onto the desk. When her fingers brush against something soft, she picks up Trafalgar Law’s hat and secures it on her head. She pushes him back with a hand against his chest and a coy smile. 

“Whenever you smile like that, I know you’re about to be a nuisance,” he huffs in amusement. 

“Now when have I ever been difficult?” She asks innocently as she very slowly reaches back to unhook her bra. Languorously, she removes one strap from her arm, then the other, letting the material fall away from her body. Law absorbs the sight with rapt attention. He takes a step towards her but Rue raises a finger. “Stay.” Law’s mouth twitches but he obeys. Rue feels more powerful than any devil fruit in the world could ever make her feel. But she wants him to know how much she wants him. She doesn’t want him to be afraid for even a moment that she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing. 

So, equally slowly, Rue’s fingers work the button of her pants open. She teasingly maintains eye contact with Law the entire time. “In fact, I think you’ll find me a very agreeable member of your crew.” She kicks her underwear off and they smack Law’s bare chest. He’s so dazed he tries to catch them about three seconds too late. “Captain.” Rue stands in front of his desk, completely naked, except for his hat, her hand raised to her brow in a salute. 

Whatever processing delay Law is experiencing lasts for about another five seconds as his gaze rakes hungrily over her body. Then he’s descending on her. Gathering her into his arms, his finger skimming over every inch of her skin, his mouth slipping frantically against hers. He guides her back to the desk, lifting her onto the surface. Her legs tighten around him when he takes her breast between his lips with flicking tongue and grazing teeth. She sees stars, panting at the friction from their bodies moving together. 

“Say it again,” he commands. 

“Huh?” She exclaims a garbled collection of sounds that aren’t quite words as Law dips a hand between them, fingers caressing her sensitive flesh. She grips his shoulders, arching into the pressure. 

“What you called me.” Law’s fingers continue to stroke and Rue is pretty sure she’s too busy biting her tongue to keep from screaming to speak right now. “I want to hear you say it again.” 

“Captain!” Rue gasps. 

Law hums into her neck, teeth dragging over her skin. He picks her up from the desk, holding her with one arm as she clings to him. He shoves his bedroom door open, striding the few steps to lay her down gently on his bed. Rue scrambles backwards making space for him. He starts to crawl over her but she tugs frantically at the waistband of his pants. He gets the message, making short work of discarding his remaining clothes in a heap on the floor. 

His body heat scorches her. He hovers above her, propped up on his elbows. His earlier domineering tone is gone. Only an uncertain tousled-hair man remains. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks. 

Rue traces her fingers down his jaw, then around the ink heart on his chest before pressing against the rapid beat of his real heart. She holds his gaze. “I want this. I want you. I meant every word I sang. You’re my home.” 

Law blows out a breath he’d apparently been holding, dropping his forehead against hers. “You’re trusting me with your heart.” 

She kisses him. “Good thing you’re a doctor.” 

He laughs, raising up again to look at her. “Good thing you hid in that crate of mangoes.” He drags his knuckles across her cheek, his voice soft. “I’m honored to be your home, Cerulean Blake. I won’t take that for granted. I won’t ever let you come to harm.” 

He’d made vows of this nature before, as if he genuinely feared her life could be in danger if she stayed with him. But Rue wasn’t scared at all. The thought of standing beside him, supporting him as he’d done for her, was exhilarating. Rue had finally started fighting for the life she wanted and she wasn’t about to stop. Especially not now, when she had people to fight for, to fight with. 

She guides his hand down from her face to cup her breast. “Touch me,” Rue orders and Trafalgar Law abides. 

His lips draw pleasure out of her like it’s what they were made to do. A match set to a wick. His hands roam her body and everywhere they touch a spark ignites, setting her desire aflame. She melts into him and when he finally pushes into her, Rue discovers she can blaze hotter yet. They move as one and Rue knows that Law feels it, too. This heat between them, burning away every doubt, every worry. He chants her name with reverence and she whispers his like it’s a key fitting into a lock, bringing her home. 

~Misa~

The following evening rapidly draws near. Watercolor hues of indigo and rose swirl across the horizon, unpolluted by city lights in this deserted Tokyo. Misa watches the sunlight fade from her vantage point atop the roof. Her hair hangs loose over her shoulders, strands swaying gently in the light breeze. Her back is pressed against a stone wall. A single loose brick lays by her foot. In one hand, she holds onigiri, bringing it to her lips to take a bite. The tangy sourness of umeboshi washes over her tongue. Her other hand spins a knife between her fingers. 

With a long exhale, Misa takes the final bite of her dinner. She stores the knife back into its hiding spot and pats the homemade taser in her jacket pocket. Chishiya had been correct in the value of having a weapon in this place. Already, Misa feels more at ease moving about the halls of the Beach with the threat of Niragi and his depravity ever present. 

Misa makes her way to the resort lobby, taking care to stretch her muscles along the way, testing the constraints of the stitches in her thigh. If tonight’s game requires strenuous movement, Misa will be hard pressed not to rip her stitches open. She wonders what deal she’ll have to make with Chishiya to persuade him to sew her up again. 

Speaking of the blonde-haired devil, Misa spies him immediately upon entering the bustling lobby. People are already streaming outside to the waiting cavalcade of cars, but Chishiya idles beside a pillar, leaning with all the nonchalance of someone who isn’t about to play a game where their life is the prize. Kuina stands beside him. When she spots Misa, she waves. 

Misa nods a greeting to Kuina, addressing Chishiya. “Shall we?” 

He smiles, straightening off the wall. “We’re with Aguni tonight.” 

Misa tenses, following his line of sight to where Aguni and two militant cronies stalk across the lobby towards the door. “Great.” 

“Good luck,” Kuina says, her lips in a downward slant around her dummy cigarette. 

Misa responds with a tight smile. “Thanks. With any luck, we’ll see you in a few hours.”

Aguni acknowledges them with minimal eye contact and a slightly less menacing scowl when she and Chishiya join his group. He leads them towards a car at the front of the line. The driver bangs on the hood at their approach and the militants whoop in return, jogging the rest of the way. Misa ignores their grating chatter. Aguni climbs into the front seat and his lackeys clamber into the back. Misa frowns at the limited space remaining. 

“Hurry up!” One of the militants yells when she hesitates at the car door. 

“Yeah, come on in! You can sit on my lap,” the second one jeers. They both cackle, the driver joining in. Aguni says nothing. 

Misa grits her teeth. Before she can retort, Chishiya is brushing past her to claim the last seat. He settles in, staring straight ahead. Misa narrows her eyes, hesitating, wondering at what game he’s playing. But then he turns his cool gaze on her, raising an eyebrow and Misa considers that possibly there is no game. That possibly, he’s doing the sort of looking out one would do for their death-game collaborator. Either way, she has no choice but to climb into the car, perching herself on Chishiya’s lap. She slams the door closed behind her then leans her weight against it to be off of Chishiya as much as possible. He resumes his insouciant perusal of the back of the seat in front of them. 

The cars ahead of them peel out and their own driver punches the gas with a cheer. The velocity shoots Misa’s stomach into her spine. She loses her precarious balance on Chishiya’s knee and her side is pressed flush against him. The contact shocks her, not because of its intimacy, but because she realizes she’d half expected Chishiya to feel as cold as his calculating demeanor. But he’s pleasantly warm through his hoodie. 

When was the last time Misa hugged someone? A coworker at their birthday party three months ago? Misa isn’t sure if she would label herself as touch-starved. It was a starvation of her own making, after all. She’d tried dating off and on over the years. Even had a brief fling with an MRI technician at the hospital. None of it lasted. Misa didn't know how to make it last. Didn’t know how to wade through her fear of being hurt to reach the shores of vulnerability on the other side. 

She mumbles an apology to Chishiya, righting herself and he hums wordlessly in response. She feels him moving against her. Getting something out of his hoodie pocket? A moment later he taps her arm and she turns from the window to look at him. He holds out a wired earbud to her. She takes it, perplexed, leaning closer so she doesn't strain the cord’s reach. He must hit play on a device in his pocket because a thumping techno beat floods her ear.

She looks up at him in surprise. He's already watching her with a smirk, head cocked as if to say ‘what?’ She shakes her head, failing to suppress a smile. “It's very… cheery,” she says. He just shrugs. 

Darkness pools against the car windows as night fully descends. The driver slows into the parking lot of an apartment complex, bright white light spilling from the lobby and the balconies above. The Beach’s residents file out of the car. Misa takes care to hand Chishiya his earbud back before opening the car door. She resists the desire to ask if this is really the music he listens to or simply what was left by the last owner of whatever device he found. Then again, the jaunty EDM beats fit his blasé mien quite artfully. 

The group heads up the steps to the entrance to the building. A nondescript lobby awaits them, a couple of other players already hovering around the table piled with cellphones. Chishiya lifts his hood over his head, picking up a phone from the table and heading towards a wall. Misa grabs her own phone and follows. 

An electronic voice acknowledges her registration and the display pops up its first announcement. “Difficulty: Five of Spades.” Misa’s heart drops. The voice continues. “A game of tag. Rule: Run away from the tagger. Clear condition: discover the safezone hidden in one of the building rooms within the time limit. You clear the game when this objective is fulfilled. Time limit: 20 minutes. After 20 minutes has passed, the time bomb hidden within the building will explode. Five minutes until registration closes.” 

Misa knocks her head against the wall behind her. Closing her eyes against the worst case scenario. Her fingers brush gently over her bandaged thigh. This is gonna hurt. 

“Did you bring the taser?” Chishiya asks.

She nods and withdraws it from her pocket, placing it into his outstretched hand. She watches curiously as he unwinds a charging cord. He plugs the cord into the makeshift taser, bending down to fit the plug into an outlet and leaves it sitting on the floor between them. Then he shoves both earbuds in and bows his head as if in meditation before the game. Misa watches him skeptically, fairly certain he's not doing any kind of mental preparation at all. 

For her part, she gathers her hair into her braid and shakes out her limbs, jumping several times in place to warm up her muscles. Across the way she watches another woman stretching in a lunge and feels a surge of respect. She overhears the panicked tones of a first timer, new to the games. A young guy with shaggy hair appears to be answering the newcomer’s nervous questions. 

“Registration is now closed. Two minutes until the game starts.” 

Players begin filtering out of the lobby into the rest of the apartment building as the timer counts down. Chishiya removes his earbuds, looping the cord around his neck and scooping up the taser. He heads to the elevator, nodding his chin at Misa to follow him. Aguni and his crew are huddled together in quiet conversation. 

As they ascend, Misa is again struck with the image of a cat seeking higher ground. Chishiya doesn’t speak to her nor does he ask about her leg. The elevator dings open at the top floor. He exits, taking a left down to the farthest southern point of the floor. He surveys the apartment building in front of him. “If you can choose your starting position, this is the perfect location.”

Misa nods. “Great view of the rest of the floors. Provided the taggers don’t start on this floor.” From here, they have an ideal vantage point of the entire perpendicular branch of the L-shaped apartment building. Their sightlines only disrupted directly below them on the parallel southern branches. The southern stairwell behind them affords an easy getaway with clear views of the western and central stairwells to watch who comes and goes. Misa may have thought to seek this location on her own, but she has to admit she’s impressed by Chishiya’s swift discernment. 

The elevator dings again with new arrivals. Aguni and another militant step out. Chishiya waves to him and despite Aguni looking directly at them, he doesn’t return Chishiya’s gesture. “What? That’s nasty,” Chishiya chides. 

“Sorry, Chishiya. Looks like Aguni doesn’t want to be friends.” 

Chishiya tilts his head towards her. “What about you? Do you want to be my friend?” 

From the seating in the car earlier to the shared music, Misa gets the impression that Chishiya is trying to sway her. Trying to get under her skin and embed himself. Perhaps so that, when the time comes, she’d think twice before carving up her own flesh to dig him out. She ignores his question. “A game of tag. I’ll be able to run, but I don’t know for how long or how fast.” 

Chishiya’s eyes flick down to her leg. “With any luck, we won’t have to do much running.” 

“Is that what you base your games on? Luck?”

He just smirks. “We need to find the safezone. Do that and this game can be over quickly.” 

“Right. And if we have to run? And I can’t keep up, what then?” Another test. She wants him to tell her the truth. There isn’t an ounce of Misa that believes Chishiya would endanger his own life in favor of hers. 

Chishiya’s eyes pierce into her. “I’m playing the game, Misa.” 

Misa smiles, oddly relieved at being informed that she would be left for dead. Maybe because it will make it easier to do the same to him, if she must. She turns her attention to the other players scrambling about on the lower floors trying to decide where to start their game of tag. 

Beside her, Chishiya chuckles. “Hmm. Everyone looks like they're about to die as usual.” 

She drums her fingers against the stone balcony. “Does that include you? Me?”

“Something tells me you’re not so easily killed.” 

Her gaze snaps over to him, pondering the compliment, freely delivered. “You’re trying to butter me up today.” 

Chishiya blinks in surprise. “Is it a crime to sing the merits of my game partner?” 

Misa blinks back placidly. “I thought you didn’t want an ally?”

Chishiya’s grin widens. “I thought you knew when I was lying.” 

Not for the first time, Misa crushes a smile before it can fully form on her face. She hasn’t caught them all, but she does worry about encouraging him. The phone in her pocket chimes with the game’s start. A loud speaker crackles to life, blaring a race horn. As one, she and Chishiya drop their banter as they transition to attentive observation. Her, with nerves pulled taut. Him, with a lackadaisical ease.

After the horn blast cuts off, silence reigns. A ding from the floor below them announces the sixth floor elevator. Footsteps echo down a hall. Misa holds her breath as she waits to see which direction the tagger will move. She doesn’t wait long before the slow pace of a tall individual wearing a horsehead mask brings them into view. They lumber along, fully turning their torso to sweep their gaze from side to side. Some sort of automatic weapon is gripped in their hand.

“Well, this will be loud.” 

Misa exhales sharply at Chishiya’s remark. “Do you think we’re destined to only play Spades games together?” 

“I don’t believe in things like destiny.” 

“Three minutes have passed,” announces their phones. And finally, the eerie quiet is broken by the staccato of gunshots in the western stairwell. Screams echo through the halls. 

“The tagger’s line of sight is inhibited by their mask,” Misa muses. “Just like the other Spades game.” She mulls that over and it quickly becomes a revelation. “Just like the other Spades game. There’s probably at least a second tagger.” 

Chishiya hums in agreement. 

Gunshots continue to sound as the tagger descends the stairs. A lone voice rises above the chaos. “Everyone the tagger is currently at the second level of the central area. The tagger has bad vision because of the mask. Let's inform each other of the tagger’s location and search for the safezone together!” 

“It's a good idea, but no one will respond,” Chishiya says with a smile. 

Misa shakes her head. “Don’t be so sure, you eternal nihilist.” She can feel his gaze on her, but her eyes remain glued to the floors below. 

Sure enough, another shout responds. “The tagger is moving from the fourth level of the central area! Anyone nearby, run!” Misa locates the woman who was also stretching before the game as she leans over the fifth floor balcony to clock the tagger and shout her warning. 

This gets Chishiya’s attention. “Really?”

Misa allows herself a moment of smugness. “Told you.” 

Chishiya laughs and a shiver goes up Misa’s spine at his relaxed manner while blood is shed around them. They both watch the same woman climb up a floor to escape the tagger in a brilliant display of athleticism. “Ohh,” Chishiya intones, sounding genuinely impressed. “A climber? She’s pretty good.”

Misa tries to ignore the way his observation rankles her. He always seems to be cataloging information about people. She can practically see the spreadsheet tabs open in his mind. She knows that she’s no exception, but it still bothers her to think of herself as a cell of data that can be easily shuffled around or deleted if it's no longer necessary. 

When the tagger exits the stairwell, two women are immediately caught in their crosshairs. Misa swallows a lump in her throat when they scream before they fall, their blood splashing across the walkway.  

The phone announces, “eight minutes until the game ends. There are currently seven survivors.” 

~Chishiya~ 

Chishiya can feel the tension in Misa’s body where their shoulders press together as they lean against the balcony watching the scene below. He’s found her peculiar again, with her assuredness that others would answer that man’s call to cooperate, yet she hasn’t left his side to join in. Does she believe he will save her? Is this how she would play the game if he weren’t here? He’d given her what she wanted earlier– an honest answer to what he considered an absurd question. Of course Chishiya would play the game. Whether Misa could do the same had nothing to do with him. 

On the fourth floor, a man scrambles along trying door after locked door. He’s about to grasp the doorknob of number 406 when a hail of gunfire rains down on him from the fifth floor. He drops to the ground, narrowly avoiding death. Chishiya notes this unusual behavior from the tagger. He pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time. Six and a half minutes remaining in the game. 

He steps back from the balcony, pushing his hood off his head. “Shall we begin?”

“You’ve figured it out?” Misa questions.

He considers telling her, but wants to see if she can get there herself. She keeps pace beside him as they head towards the central staircase, clearly deep in thought. One arm is crossed over her stomach, the other propped atop it while her index finger rubs against her bottom lip. Her eyes are trained, unseeing, at the ground. Chishiya is intrigued by how easily she drops her guard in the middle of a game. Then amused when he understands this as a display of trust in him. Her guard isn’t dropped, it’s in Chishiya’s hands. 

Chishiya has been listening intently for the sound of footsteps on the central staircase, aware that as soon as he left his position he no longer knows in which direction the fifth floor tagger will choose to move. Misa, still absorbed in her puzzle-solving, nearly steps directly out into the fifth floor’s line of sight. Quickly, he reaches out, hooking her elbow and pulling her back. Unprepared, she stumbles into him, briefly splaying a hand against his stomach to steady herself.

Chishiya peers around her. The tagger hesitates at the western stairwell before descending. “Let’s wait here to see if they bypass the fourth floor. If we don’t hear them in the central stairwell, we can assume they moved to a lower floor.” He looks towards Misa in time to watch her silently mouth the words ‘fourth floor,’ then her eyes light up, locking directly with his. 

“The tagger shot at that guy from an entire floor away! Why would they do that? Their vision is limited and they’ve only been shooting at people directly in front of them on the same floor… The safezone! It’s on the fourth floor.” 

She was slower to the answer than him, but Chishiya still feels a surge of pride at her sharp deduction, pleased with himself for his astute selection of an associate. “Room 406,” he replies. 

Cautiously, they make their way to the fourth floor, hurrying along the hallway. Another man arrives at the same time as them from the opposite direction. “So you realized that, too?” Chishiya addresses him, intrigued by anyone intelligent enough to arrive at this conclusion. 

He replies, “yes. The safezone is this apartment.”  He reaches out to grab the door knob. When he speaks, Chishiya registers that it’s the same voice that yelled to the players earlier, urging them to work together. His hand hesitates on the doorknob. 

“Aren't you going to open it?” 

“Why did the tagger chase us? They could have just waited here?” 

Chishiya considers the man’s question for a moment. He can practically feel Misa vibrating with anxiety behind him. Her fingers twitch against the fabric of his hoodie. He wonders if she even knows she’s doing that. “Seems like there's something else we don't know. However,” Chishiya pulls out his phone to show the game’s timer. “If you don't open it…” 

The man nods right as the phone chirps, “three minutes until game concludes.” Slowly, he eases the door open, peering inside cautiously.

Chishiya moves around the door to look in as well, opening it wider so Misa can also see. The apartment is dark and devoid of furnishings or personal belongings. It’s small. A sink and bathroom directly to their left. Chishiya raises an eyebrow at Misa who shrugs in return. 

Their new acquaintance moves deeper into the shadow-swathed apartment to a closed door, presumably a bedroom. Chishiya waits expectantly beside him, unwilling to open it himself when there’s someone here to do it for him. The man reaches for the door just as Misa grabs the back of Chishiya’s hoodie exclaiming, “shit!” 

At practically the same time, the man yells, “look out!” He shoves Chishiya and himself apart, the force sending Chishiya knocking into Misa and they tumble to the ground. Chishiya’s weight lands on one of Misa’s legs, likely her injured one from the way she hisses in pain. Gunfire lights up the room and his ears ring. His homemade taser is already out of his pocket and thrusting towards the tagger’s leg. A bolt of electricity sparks and the tagger goes down. 

Chishiya climbs to his feet, pulling Misa up beside him. She grimaces at the fresh blood seeping from the bandage around her stitches. “Nice reflexes,” she tells him.  

The new guy joins them in staring down at the tagger. Chishiya turns his taser over in his hand, smiling to himself. “It never hurts to be prepared–” The last syllable barely leaves his mouth before the tagger stirs, raising their gun and firing again. Chishiya flings himself out of the way and the other guy does the same. Chishiya catches Misa’s hand and tugs her back out of the apartment, slamming the door behind them. They slump against the closed door, breathing heavily. 

“Okay,” Misa pants. “So you need to double tap. Good to know.” 

Inside, shots pop off in rapid succession. The player trapped in the apartment shouts, “the safezone is in apartment 406! It's impossible to clear the game alone! We need two people to do this!” 

Chishiya braces against the door. “Seriously?” He looks over his shoulder at Misa, who again shrugs at him. 

“We have to help or we’ll all die.” 

Chishiya sighs, twisting the knob to open the door back up. Through a tiny crack, he sees the tagger finish blasting the bedroom door open, slowly entering the room beyond. 

“Time remaining, one minute.” 

He and Misa creep forward as a commotion breaks out in the brightly lit bedroom. Chishiya holds a hand out for Misa to wait as he peeks through the doorway. The player wrestles with the tagger, attempting to get their gun. Chishiya has to quickly dodge backwards to avoid a random spray of bullets. 

“Time remaining thirty seconds.” 

“Twenty seconds.”

Chishiya is forced to back away again, his attempts to enter the room thwarted by the danger of open gunfire.  

“Ten seconds.” 

The climber from before hauls herself through the open window. “You called?” 

Chishiya sees the opportunity. “Hey!” He calls to her and holds up his taser to demonstrate how to release a charge before tossing it to her. She catches it, lunging for the tagger and zapping their ankle. Misa ducks in next to Chishiya, phone clutched in her white-knucled fingers. The timer shows six seconds remaining. 

“Five, four, three, two, one–”

Before the electronic voice can finish speaking the final number, the two players jump in tandem towards a set of buttons on opposite walls. Misa stares up at Chishiya, ghostly pale with a bead of blood on her lip from where she’s clearly bitten hard enough to break skin. 

“Game clear. Congratulations.” 

Misa sinks to the floor beside him, a hand clutched over her mouth. The tagger’s horse head mask was flung off when they fell, revealing a middle-aged woman. She stirs and sits upright, fear overtaking her expression milliseconds before the collar around her neck violently explodes. Chishiya flinches apathetically at the gore painted up the walls. Misa releases a single strangled gasp. 

The room is silent, save for the exhausted, panting breaths of the two other players. First the man, then the woman exits, stepping past Misa on her knees in the bedroom doorway. The woman regards Misa with a polite nod on her way out. 

Chishiya moves further into the empty room, studying the body of the deceased tagger. Abruptly, the electricity cuts out, plunging the room into darkness. Misa must recover from her shock because she joins him at the body. 

“What are you doing?” She asks as he pats the pockets of the dead woman. 

He pulls out a folded piece of paper from her pocket, holding it up to Misa in answer. He unfolds it and she peers over his shoulder. It’s a drawing. A circle with a bunch of waving lines running haphazardly through it. A small hole is poked at a juncture where several lines intersect. Chishiya runs a finger over it thoughtfully. 

“What is it?” Misa asks. 

“I’m not sure yet.” He pockets the paper. “Let’s get out of here.” 

They take the central stairs down to the lobby. Misa doesn’t complain but several harsh exhales let him know her leg is hurting. In the parking lot Aguni waits alone. “Looks like we’re the only ones who made it,” Chishiya quips. Aguni says nothing, turning his back to them to watch the lot entrance for their pickup. Misa lowers herself to the curb, injured leg stretched out in front of her. She’d been markedly quiet since they cleared the game and Chishiya finds himself compelled to make her speak. “So, anything to scold me over for this game?”

Misa raises her head to look at him, expression quizzical. “What, you’re looking for feedback?”

Chishiya smiles. “You just always seem to have insights on how I conduct myself.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Not this time.” 

“Why not?”

Her eyes flash in the night. Wayward strands of hair whip across her face. “Because you went first.” 

This stumps Chishiya. There’s a triumphant edge to her smile that has him replaying the night's events until he zeros in on her meaning. “At 406, I went ahead of you. You think I did it to protect you?” 

Misa pushes to her feet as the car arrives for them. Aguni takes the front seat leaving them to again occupy the back. Misa scoots to the far side, laying her head against the window. Chishiya thinks she’s not going to respond to him until she says quietly, “The only one who can answer that question is you, Chishiya. Do you dare ask it?”

Trafalgar Law checks Rue’s IV for the umpteenth time, at a loss for what else to do. She’s slept for the last three days and all he can do is wait for her body to rest and recover. But it eats at him. She’s right here in front of him, yet he can’t look into those fathomless blue eyes or hear that musical laughter. He sits back down in the chair by her bed, taking her hand between his. “Come on, Cerulean. Wake up.”

“Captain, I brought you some lunch.” Bepo enters carrying a plate with a sandwich on it. His features are creased with worry. “She’s still sleeping?”

Law nods an affirmative. Taking the plate from Bepo and immediately putting it on the table beside him. 

Bepo frowns. “You have to eat, Captain,” he says and it feels like deja vu. 

“I will. I’m just… not hungry yet.” 

“Oh dear, oh dear.” 

Law reaches out to pat his friend’s arm. “It’ll be okay, Bepo. She’ll wake up.” Bepo fusses over him for a handful of minutes more before departing back to the helm. Law has no idea where Malax Fangle fled to, but he knows they’re on the same path to the New World. He can’t drop his guard when a run in with what’s left of the Fang Pirates is likely inevitable. 

He goes back to watching Cerulean, the sandwich already forgotten. Medically, there’s no other aid he can provide to her. She’d had so many cuts and bruises, his blood had boiled to see it, but he’d already patched those up. Her fatigue came from overexertion of her new devil fruit powers compounded with long-term confinement in seastone handcuffs. Law studies her placid expression as she sleeps. Cerulean Blake has devil fruit powers. He can hardly believe it. What had happened to her on that ship? He remembers the way Rue’s hair had billowed in the wind. Her voice dripping with dark persuasion as she’d sung the Fang Pirates into the ocean. He’d felt an uncontrollable thrill at the sight, at seeing her take vengeance into her own hands. In that moment, she was the most magnificent thing he’d ever seen. 

A soft groan pulls him from his thoughts. Cerulean blinks awake, bleary-eyed and squinting into the light of the medical bay. Her hand immediately goes to her head, “Ugh, ouch.” 

Trafalgar Law is on his feet at once, leaning over her, clutching her hand and brushing the hair back from her temple. “Easy. You’ve been asleep for a few days. Take it slow.” 

 “Law?” Her tired eyes focus on him. “You really came.” 

Law holds her gaze. “Of course I did.” He sits on the edge of the bed beside her, helping her prop herself up with pillows. 

Rue laughs shakily. “I wasn't sure. I hoped but… with the Fang Pirates vacating Ashita Island…” She trails off in a coughing fit and Law passes her a glass of water. She gulps it down greedily before finishing her sentence. “I thought maybe you'd already gotten what you wanted.” 

Law gapes at her. “What I want,” he says slowly. “Has never been some island.” 

Rue swallows hard and passes the empty glass back to him. “Thank you.” Her voice is raspy from lack of use. “Thank you for being there when I needed you.” 

Law’s frustration rises, unbidden. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t immediately chastise her upon waking up, but damn it all, what had she been thinking. “What were you thinking, Cerulean? Jumping into the sea like that?” 

A smile starts to form on her face but quickly drops away. “Abigail! My friend! Is she okay!?” She winces from the abrupt motion of sitting up straighter, her hand resting against her ribs. 

Law nods, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “She’s fine. We provided her with a room. She’s been by to check on you many times.” 

Rue sags back against the pillows. “Thank the seas. I grew up with her in the orphanage. We lost contact but… She’s how I knew you’d come. Her devil fruit powers let her see into the future a bit.” 

“A bit?” Law’s vexation is decidedly not placated. 

Rue shrugs. “It’s vague sometimes, but she saw you catching me.” 

“That’s what you bet your life on? Cerulean, you’re a devil fruit user now! What if I hadn’t been there? The sea would’ve killed you.” 

She waves him off and he wonders how she’d take to threats of being locked up in her room until the last of the Fang Pirates are dealt with. Probably with a dagger between his ribs. “I had a backup plan. It was all going to be very dramatic.” She winks at him and some of his temper melts away. “There’s no way they were going to lose such a valuable asset. They would’ve come in after me. I’d be able to slow them down enough so that maybe you could catch up. And…if you weren’t coming, well, at the very least I would really piss them off.” She grins at him. Maybe a knife wound isn’t such a bad price to pay if it stops her from trying to get herself killed. 

“That’s barely a plan,” Law grumbles. 

“And,” she continues. “I’d managed to pilfer a knife at the last tavern we went to and hid it in my boot. I was gonna put it right into the neck of whatever Fang Pirate came to my rescue, thinking I was all weak and drowning to death.” 

Law blinks several times. “But you would’ve been actually drowning to death.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Details.” 

“And then what?” Law asks, amusement dancing around the edges of his anger.  

“Well, I figured if I kept that up long enough I’d probably make some kind of dent in the crew eventually. And at least it’d give me something to do while I thought of a better plan.” 

He laughs out loud at this so absurd and so incredibly Cerulean Blake answer. She’s startled, eyebrows shooting up and mouth dropping open, then she’s joining in. They’re laughing together, her voice wrapping around him in the best kind of healing medicine. Law is happy, so happy that she’s alive, safe, here.

Unthinking, lost in this blissful blur, he leans in, capturing the smile on her face in a kiss. Her breath hitches, and he freezes against her, wondering what the hell he’s just done. Trafalgar Law is not impulsive. It’s only…he’s thought about kissing her for weeks now. Is it still impulsive if he's imagined countless times what this exact moment would feel like? Except he's shocked her, acted without her consent like an idiot. With his lips pressed to hers, he tries to recall if he'd left any sharp objects lying nearby. 

But then she’s kissing him back, her mouth moving against his, timidly at first then with an urgency. She weaves her hands into his hair, knocking his hat off his head to the ground. He groans, low and throaty when she bites at his bottom lip. He wraps his fingers around her neck, using his thumb to leverage her head back so he can deepen the kiss. She opens to him and he pours his soul out to her with the brush of his lips and the sweep of his tongue. His other hand skims up her side, ready to wrap around her back and pull her to him. But she hisses in pain and Law comes to his senses. 

He withdraws immediately, scanning her body. “I’m sorry. You’re not recovered yet. We shouldn’t do…that.” He trails off, embarrassed. 

“No, no, we should definitely do that. More of that, really.” Her cheeks are flushed. 

Law presses the backs of his fingers to the redness. “There will be time,” he promises. “When you’re healed.” 

She frowns. “You’re a doctor. Can’t you just declare that it’s fine now?” 

He laughs, shaking his head. “That would make me a very bad doctor.” 

She smiles cheekily up at him through her lashes. “I can live with that.” 

Law’s dizzy with a heady rush of giddiness knowing that she wants him too. That he’s not alone in feeling this need. But she really is injured and he doesn’t trust himself to act with restraint. For both their sakes, he changes the topic to other pertinent matters. “They gave you a devil fruit?” 

Rue’s expression flattens. She laughs, hateful and bitter. “Gave me? Not quite. They strapped me to a chair and shoved it down my throat.” 

Law thinks he’s going to be sick. “I’m so sorry, Rue.” 

Her gaze softens. “Jokes on them. I’m going to be the melody of their worst nightmare.” 

Law doesn’t doubt it for a second. “How can I help you?” 

“When we find him, I want to kill him myself.” He can practically see the bloodlust cloud her vision. 

Law watches her thoughtfully. “Are you sure? Killing is not so easy a thing to survive.”

Heat sparks in her eyes. “You saw what I did on his ship. I’m not afraid to kill.” 

“I never said you were. Only that killing changes you, whether you want it to or not.” 

“How many have you killed?” She asks defiantly. 

A sad, soft smile curves his lips. He raises his hand and grazes his knuckles across her cheek. He can almost feel the death written there. Can she feel it too? The ink like braille her skin knows how to read. “Some of us kill because we’re already dead.” Her brows furrow at this cryptic message. He stares at the tattoos on his hands, constant reminders of what’s at stake. Now, they remind him of how much he doesn’t think he deserves her. He can never tell her he loves her. 

When he’d kissed her earlier, he’d had a fleeting thought that maybe he could ask her again to be part of his crew, to stay, but no. After a year spent imprisoned by pirates, the last thing she’d want is to join the crew of one. So he’d take whatever she was willing to give now, soak up every second of time he had with her, then he’d let her go. He had to let her go. If he didn’t, if she stayed around for what he had to do, if she got hurt because of it… dying would sure be a hell of a lot less painful for him after living through that. 

Her eyes flicker over his face, assessing. “Well, Trafalgar Law, I am very much alive and very much pissed off. I am going to kill Malax Fangle myself. You’re going to help me. And neither of us are going to be worse off for it.” She levels a look at him that dares him to challenge her proclamation. 

He doesn’t. “Okay, Cerulean. We’ll do things your way.” 

Looking incredibly pleased with herself, her attention strays to the table beside the bed. “Now, is that an egg salad sandwich I smell?” 

Law huffs, patting her head affectionately. “Yes, you menace, but let’s start with broth. You haven’t had solid food in days.” 

“Of course, doctor. Whatever you say.” Her eyes twinkle and it’s all Trafalgar Law can do to stop himself from plastering his mouth back over hers. He gets up to go get her some food, picking his hat up on the way, ears turning red remembering how Rue had knocked it off his head, her fingers brushing through his hair. He shakes his head all the way to the galley, but can’t dispel the exuberant seed of hope sprouting in his heart. 

“Rue’s awake and you didn’t tell me?” A voice demands as soon as he enters the galley. He looks up to find Abigail watching him with her hands on her hips. 

“She only just woke up. I’m getting her something to eat,” Law says defensively. “How did you know?” 

He must be looking at her in a way that suggests he thinks she’s used her devil fruit abilities, because she rolls her eyes and says, “Relax. I didn’t see the future. I need a little bit of your blood to do that.” She jerks her chin at him. “I could tell from that look on your face. You’ve been moping for days. I’m assuming the only thing that could stop you from looking like you're walking to the gallows is Rue waking up.” Her tongue probes against her cheek and she smirks.

Trafalgar Law has the distinct feeling that he’s being teased. “You do know I’m a pirate right?” 

“Me too. And?” 

Law can see why Cerulean would befriend this woman. “Then you know it’s not the best idea to antagonize a pirate on their own ship.” 

She folds her arms across her chest. “I might have been wary of you before I heard you yell Cerulean’s name like that,” she says pointedly, her smirk growing wider. “Now, I’m pretty sure you’d do anything for her. Such as providing shelter to her former Fang Pirate friend.” 

Law sighs. She’s got him there. 

“It’s not a bad thing. I’m glad Rue has someone.” There’s a tinge of sorrow in Abigail’s words, her gaze takes on a faraway look. “The way we grew up… It’s not the easiest to trust, to let people in.” Her eyes return to him. “But when I told her what I saw in my vision, she didn’t have a lick of doubt that you might not be coming for her.” She squints at him. “Don’t waste that.” 

Law feels a complicated rush of appreciation for Abigail and guilt at his own selfishness. Whatever history exists between them, this woman clearly cares about what happens to Rue. So does Law, but his care might end up being the thing that hurts her. Maybe Abigail has seen something of his future after all. “I won’t put her in danger.” Not exactly a direct response to Abigail, but the most honest thing Law can offer. 

She evaluates him, her fingers tapping against her bicep before clucking her tongue. “I’ll warm up some soup.” 

Law can’t quite tell if he’s passed some test, or failed it miserably. He rejoins Rue in the infirmary, bowl of soup in hand. She smiles cheerfully at him, though the fatigue is evident in the droop of her eyes. “Eat what you can and then you should sleep more.” 

Rue slurps up soup. “Can I go back to my room?” 

“I need to keep an eye on you.” 

She scrunches her nose. “Then can I go to your room?” 

“My room?” He scrambles for a response. “Why?”

“It’s too bright in here. And clinical.” She looks around at the medical equipment and other beds with distaste. “You can still keep an eye on me if I’m in your room, right?” 

He was pretty sure if he saw her in his bed, it’d be both eyes he’d be keeping on her. She looks at him so imploringly though, he can’t bring himself to refuse. Abigail really has his number. “Finish your soup and I’ll move you.” 

Rue dutifully returns to her soup, smiling up at him between bites as if to say “see, look how good I’m being.” He finds himself holding back laughter. She hands the empty bowl to him. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Her eager impatience does strange things to his heartbeat. “Let’s see how you are on your feet.” He takes her hand, helping her out of bed. 

She rises, but immediately wobbles, her weight collapsing against him. “Whoa,” she exhales. “Oof, that’s worse than I thought it’d be.” 

Law holds her up with a gentle arm around her waist. “You should get back in bed.” 

“No!” She unleashes the full force of those azure eyes on him. “I just want to be somewhere more comfortable. You’re a doctor, isn’t that helpful for a patient’s recovery?” She coaxes. 

Again, he yields. “I’ll carry you then. Can you grab your IV pole?” Rue nods. As gingerly as possible, Law lifts Cerulean into his arms. Still, she grimaces as her body shifts against him, her fingers clutching onto the front of his shirt. He waits for her to settle, to reach out and grab the IV pole to wheel along beside them. He makes the trip to his quarters as quickly and smoothly as he can. He tucks her into his bed, pulling the covers up around her. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.” He turns to leave, but Rue catches his hand. 

“Or you could stay here?” 

Say no, say no, say no. It’s too much, too close, he begs himself. Then he’s sliding off his boots, tossing his hat onto the nightstand and curling up around Cerulean Blake. He’s very careful with where he holds her, how much pressure he applies. She wiggles closer to him, her back flush with his chest. He drapes an arm loosely over her hips and her fingers seek out his to twine with. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, so faint he has to draw closer to hear her. “I was so scared. I needed help. And you came.” 

~Misa~

The days remaining on Misa’s visa slowly trickle away. She will have to wait until the last night to play a game, giving her leg as much time as possible to heal. She fears it won’t be enough. 

Chishiya hadn't said anything about whether he'd helped those kids or not, but somehow Misa knew. Maybe it was the way he'd come to find her while she watched them play with their new guardians. Maybe it was still the way he'd pulled her against him and dragged her out of a death game hell. 

“What are you thinking about?” Kuina asks, snapping Misa out of her thoughts. 

“Just the motivations of apathetic men.” Kuina is smart and Misa knows she's not being vague enough that her new friend can't figure out who she's referring to.

But Kuina doesn't prod. “I just played a game so my visa is fine. You need to play one soon don't you?” Misa nods in answer. Kuina worries her dummy cigarette between her lips. “Want me to play with you?” 

Misa smiles, moved by the woman's kindness. “No, that's okay. I'll go alone. Just,” Misa’s voice catches in her throat. “Spare a thought for me if I don't come back, yeah?” 

Kuina smiles, too. “I'll spare several,” she promises, playful but solemn. 

A short while later, Misa leaves Kuina lounging by the pool and makes her way back inside, tired of the sunlight making her head throb. A dull ache spreads through her thigh every time she puts pressure on her injured leg. Not so bad that she didn’t think she could run when it came down to it but… the next game was going to be a nightmare if it required athletics. 

Misa’s feet are carrying her up the stairs to the roof before she realizes it. She pauses on the landing feeling vaguely ridiculous. It’s not as if she’s intruding on someone else’s space. Chishiya didn’t own the roof. But Kuina had commented on him being up here a couple of times and Misa had walked this path to find him once before. It seemed when Chishiya wasn’t lurking around the Beach, he was on its roof. Like a cat seeking the higher ground, better to see its prey. 

Misa shrugs her shoulders, vowing not to let anyone keep her from going anywhere. It’s not until she’s blinking in the harsh sunlight that she remembers she was trying to get away from the bright glare. Bringing a hand up to shield her eyes, Misa roams the rooftop, quickly discovering that Chishiya is nowhere to be found– not that she was looking for him. She does discover, however, that the angle of the sun casts a shady spot next to a utility room. She slides down the wall to the ground, finding the concrete pleasantly cool against her legs. 

Misa dozes off. When she rouses, she thinks evening must be falling. Only when she cracks her eyes open does she realize the darkness isn’t from the setting sun but from Niragi crouched over her, a self-satisfied grin plastered across his face. 

“Look what we have here,” he reaches out to trace his index finger along her temple, down her jaw, flicking the braid draped against her shoulder. 

Misa wills herself not to flinch. He wants her fear, but he won’t have it. “What do you want?” 

Niragi sucks his teeth “I was looking for Chishiya. We need to go over game assignments and he’s not answering his radio. Found something far more entertaining though.” His demented smile raises Misa’s hackles. She comprehends just how vulnerable she is up here, all alone with the house music thudding loudly below. She draws her knees tighter against her chest, preparing to rise forcefully and shove Niragi away. But he drops to one knee, crowding her further against the wall. “Thinking of going somewhere? We haven’t even gotten started.” He drags his nose against her hairline, sniffing deeply. 

“Ahh, seems like I’m interrupting,” a mildly cheerful voice interjects. Chishiya stands at the edge of the building’s wall, hands in his pockets, watching them. 

Niragi leans back from Misa, snarling at Chishiya. “When I want to find you, you’re nowhere to be found. When I’m about to finally have some fun, there you are.” 

Chishiya removes his hands from his pockets long enough to raise them in the air in an ‘I’m sorry’ gesture that doesn’t come across as at all sincere. “Why were you looking for me?” 

“Hatter’s called a meeting to discuss the next games.” Niragi turns back to Misa, splaying fingers over her knee in a grotesque caress. His fingertips skim across the top of her thigh. 

“We probably shouldn’t keep him waiting then.” Chishiya’s eyes flick briefly to Misa’s, to the hand on her leg, but his gaze has returned to Niragi by the time this vile man turns his sneer back to Chishiya. 

“That’s rich, coming from you. Your radio shouldn’t be off.” 

Chishiya is unfazed by the obvious hatred pouring off of Niragi. Or was he like Misa, unwilling to give this vulture a reaction? She didn’t think so though. Chishiya wasn’t stuffing his emotions down deep like her. It was more like they were already buried– and had been for a while. If you wanted them to show, they’d have to be painstakingly unearthed. Yet… he must feel something. The smallest bone fragment of a fossilized emotion poking through the dirt. Because he didn’t walk away and leave her to fend for herself.  

“I’m here now. Do you really want to keep Hatter waiting any longer?” He asks like it’s a genuine question, like if Niragi said yes, he would turn around and go. But his eyes again snap to Misa, then to the wall beside her. Misa furrows her brow in confusion, feeling that Chishiya is trying to communicate something to her, but what? 

Niragi stands up, grunting in exasperation. “Fine, let’s go.” He strides away without another glance at her. 

Chishiya watches her for a second longer, head tipped to the side, then follows after Niragi. Misa exhales a shaky breath, head falling back against the brick. How many more close calls would there be for her in a place like this? With that monster roaming the halls with his guns and his arrogance. Make that twice that Chishiya has saved her life. 

At the thought, she turns to the side to look for whatever Chishiya had wanted her to find. She spies a brick loose in the wall. Her nose crinkles with concentration as she wedges her fingers around it to pry it out. When she does, a small pocket knife clatters to the ground beside her. She laughs, bemused. Someone certainly has secrets. She shakes her head. Just how fast and discreetly did Chishiya think she could pull a brick out of a wall before Niragi killed her? Still, Misa understands this offering for what it is. A piece of trust, a bit of help. 

Misa tucks the knife back into the brick, then tucks the brick back into the wall. 

~Chishiya~ 

If they’d been back in the other world, this is the kind of meeting that Chishiya would feel could have been an email. Then again, that was most meetings for him. Anything to lessen the amount of time he had to spend listening to the dull drone of people who thought that what they were doing actually mattered. Chishiya pays enough attention to the intel gathered about new game arenas located across the city. Beyond that, he mostly observes. Niragi in particular. 

Chishiya detested the man. Niragi wasn’t stupid. Nowhere near Chishiya’s intelligence, if you asked him, but good enough to rank amongst the top players at the Beach. But his brand of cruel arrogance rankles at Chishiya. Of course, anyone could see that Chishiya is arrogant, too. But he remembers Misa’s stoic expression as Niragi put his hands on her and feels an unexpected wrath simmering low in his stomach. What is the point of all that intelligence if you choose to act like a deranged animal anyway? 

What would have happened if Chishiya hadn’t gone to the roof at that exact moment? He examines the thought with an amused indifference. It’s not the kind of ‘what-if’ analysis he’s used to running. He finds he doesn’t like the idea of Misa at Niragi’s mercy. She can’t be useful to him if she’s hurt and broken. She might keep a barbed wire fence wrapped around her heart, but behind that it was still a soft, bleeding thing. Chishiya could use that. But only if Niragi was kept away. 

When the meeting adjourns, Chishiya heads to his room. He collects the odds-and-ends of a recent project and exits back out into the hall, making his way to Misa’s floor. He knocks on her door. 

She answers, eyebrows lifting in surprise when she sees him. “Chishiya?” 

“May I come in?” 

She stands back, waving him into the room, clearly bewildered. He goes to the desk, depositing various electronic pieces. 

Misa peers around his shoulder. “What is all this?” 

“A lesson.” He steps to the side so there’s room for her at the desk beside him. 

She picks up the handheld radio, examining its exposed wiring from where Chishiya has already taken the backing off. “A lesson in what?”

“The importance of having a weapon.” 

Misa’s gaze jerks to him sharply. “I found the knife.” 

“Did you keep it?” 

She shakes her head. “It’s yours. Plus I thought being found with it would do more harm than good.” 

She’s not wrong. But at least when she goes back to that spot she’ll have a way of defending herself now. “I’m going to make a taser,” he informs her, his lips twitching on a smile at her increasingly baffled expression. 

“A taser?” She questions. “I thought you were a doctor.” 

Chishiya takes the radio from her, his fingers grazing against her knuckles. He half expected them to feel rough and calloused from all that fight he can sense in her, but her skin is soft and warm. “I was.” He considers leaving it at that, and maybe because he knows she won’t ask, he goes on. “I’ve always liked taking things apart and seeing how they worked.” 

She’s silent for so long that Chishiya finally looks up from the wires he’s studying. His thoughts scatter when they collide with her unreserved smile, like the one she had while watching the kids play. Only now it’s directed at him and it makes him feel unbalanced, like she’s somehow gained an upper hand. He quirks an eyebrow in question. 

“That’s just the most Chishiya answer you could’ve given me.” She’s still smiling and with clarity Chishiya understands that she thinks she knows something of him. Does she? Could he use her calculation of intimacy to his advantage? 

He nods down at the desk. “Pay attention.” 

She laughs softly, but moves in closer to watch Chishiya work. She turns out to be a dutiful student as he explains what wires connect where. He can’t recall the last time he provided instruction to someone. Probably a resident at the hospital but they’re nothing more than a faceless blur to him now. Another cog in a machine that purported to save lives while placing different price tags on the lives it saved. This isn’t so bad, here with Misa, moving her fingers into the right places with a gentle patience. It makes Chishiya recall the parts about being a doctor he’d actually enjoyed, beyond it just being what his parents expected from him. 

Misa’s hair cascades over her shoulder, unbound from her characteristic braid. Like a curtain between them, it obscures her face from view as she hunches over the desk, intent on screwing the radio’s backing case into place. Chishiya did most of the construction, but had taken care to make sure Misa understood each step. No matter how he examined it, this desire to provide her with the knowledge to protect herself was odd. He could’ve just handed her the finished taser. He could’ve done nothing. An image of Niragi crouched over her springs into his mind again. Chishiya wanted her alive, it was as simple as that. Dead, she was useless. Alive, she was a clever tool. 

Her spine straightens and she holds the radio aloft in triumph, turning to him. “We did it!” For the first time, Chishiya notices the slight dimple in her cheek when she smiles. “Does it work though?” Her skepticism is evident in her tone. 

He takes it from her. Demonstrating the discharge of an electrical current when the freshly wired button is pressed. “Yep,” he replies smugly. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “Congratulations on your genius.” 

Is this what it’s like to have fun? Chishiya thinks with a muted sort of alarm. He hadn’t come here to enjoy himself, he’d come to secure a valuable asset. “Here,” he hands the makeshift taser back to her. “You keep it.” 

“Me? Why?” 

He stares into her big, dark eyes. “Just in case.” 

She stares back. “Thank you,” she breathes. “For this and for earlier.”

Her words are so fragile and frank that Chishiya experiences a momentary merciless urge to crush them. “Keep it on you. And play a game with me tomorrow night.” 

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she considers him. “You going to get me killed?” 

“Not on purpose.” Chishiya even thinks he means it. 

“What’s your full name?” She asks, so unanticipated, so preposterous it throws him off again.

“Chishiya Shuntarou,” he replies honestly, curious what use she would have for the information. An attempt to gain closeness with him? 

She offers him a small bow. “Umezaki Misa. Nice to meet you!” 

“You go by your given name?” Chishiya had already surmised as much, as it would be an unusual surname. But he found it peculiar that this was how she’d chosen to introduce herself at the Beach.  

The tiniest crack fissures through her grin. She shrugs. “My surname is my father’s. Misa was given to me by my mother.”