He is able to ignore the soreness most days, but now, the aches from his missing limbs thrum with warning. His body recognizes the danger as much as his mind does, urging him to run as though it forgets that he no longer has the legs to. 

Quietly, voice low like talking down a madman or a panther, he replies. “96. What’s wrong?” He already knows, but just yesterday, and the day before, and the months since the ship had finally landed on a livable planet and even some weeks before, everything had seemed fine. 96 was getting better, the sickness that had caused them to hurt Yuma and other passengers seeming to calm in the face of treatment and care. 96 had even learned to speak again, even if not as much as before. 

There’ve been moments when the two of them could almost act normal, like there was never a contamination let loose aboard their vessel, like 96 was more like a reformed criminal, and less like an attempt to rehabilitate a zombie. 

But it was working! 

96 leans in closer, and in mornings past, Yuma was confident in expecting a kiss (96 carries him, bathes him, fetches him food, and slowly resembles the old them more each day). He holds back a whimper now, just before he tries to bring back his friend with a familiar request. “I-I need to go to the toilet.” 

There is a thankful pause. Despite Yuma’s fear and intuition that there is something wrong, there still appears to be lucidity in 96′s eyes – the same growing intelligence that’s been resurfacing since he’s tried to help them heal. It’s almost a glare, 96′s eyes challenging him, suspicious to the truth of his statement. Like they don’t want the two of them to move from this position. 

“I really need to go.” Yuma doesn’t have to feign the urge to whine and squirm from underneath them. He resists using his one arm to shuffle towards the headboard and away from them, fearing that would trigger an angry reaction. 

96 doesn’t move right away, instead looking at Yuma’s body up and down at his movement, their mutated jaws gaping wider, their tongue slipping out to briefly lick their lips. Finally, they reach a decision, shuffling off him and pulling him from the sheets once they stand. 

Yuma’s arm reaches around their neck and he hugs himself to their chest, silently urging for his friend to snap out of this reverie and come back to him. 

96 would finger the artificial limbs of Yuma’s suit with a hint of guilt. Yuma had been able to see it – a real emotion of regret. He had been too happy to see the progress in 96′s continuous reclamation of empathy that he hadn’t even thought to reassure 96 that it wasn’t really their fault for what had happened, that they hadn’t been the only one to do the things they did while the passengers had drifted in space. Besides, part of Yuma needed to see 96 feel bad about it. 

They never said no to handing Yuma his suit, treating both the outfit and his requests reverently, like caring for him is partly a penance, a chance to make up for what he went through. 

It’s why Yuma at first thinks he mishears 96 when he asks for it again over breakfast. “What?” 

96′s first response is to pet Yuma harder, almost hurtfully, their malformed hands, more like claws, suddenly weightier, and stroking Yuma’s scalp with irritability at just the hint of his insubordination. 

Yuma yelps in pain, his hand flying up to stop 96′s movements, but his partner doesn’t even seem to register his effort. 96 repeats themself once they stop. “No.” Then, in a softer tone, nearly smooth, they say, “Stay.” 

Yuma feels like crying, but doesn’t know how 96 would react to that, so holds it back, trying to make the despairing whine in his voice sound playful and casual. “But I… I need something from town today. And Kaito said he’d give us a present!” He comes up with on the spot, heart pounding at the lie. But the idea seems sound, and 96′s mind hadn’t regrown so much so that there is a chance they won’t see through him. “Y-Yeah! Kaito said he has something for us. I promised I’d get it. You know promises are important! Remember?” 

96 tilts their head and narrows their eyes at him. Yuma keeps trying. “If you want,” he says, “I’ll stay here. And you can go to him! Because you remember how to get to our neighbor’s house, right? Just say, Yuma said Kaito wants to give us our present! I’m too excited to wait another day!” He adds, would-be cheerful, before 96 can decline another time. He clings at 96′s arm and begs. “Please go, or let’s go together? I’ve been waiting for our gift for so long!”

The tactic is similar to what Yuma had tried when he first decided to plow through 96′s sickness. They had been more so a monster back then, after they’d attacked him and then kept him a prisoner, but even then he’d somehow understood that just having kept him alive harked to a sentimentality towards him that 96 was able to hold onto even at that state. Instead of trying to fight or run – all useless in the face of the monsters’ strength and speed – he’d reached out and pleaded to be coddled, asking for food and water, and later to be carried to med rooms and supply cabinets before eventually trusting 96 to approach other uninfected passengers. Kaito and the others couldn’t believe it had worked. 

Yuma doesn’t want to doubt the progress they have both made now. But… 

It works as well as it did then, 96 eventually giving a curt nod. For agreeing with him, they take their reward before Yuma thinks to give it, leaning in and kissing him. He tries to hide his startle; 96 usually eases into it – at one time able to communicate well enough to admit that they’ve become more aware of how malformed parts their body had become and worrying that he would fear them too much to love them. 

When they sit back, they take Yuma’s food and hand-feed him. Their movements are sure rather than the mechanical moves to pick up the food and utensils that Yuma and Kaito tried to reteach them. It would be a delightful change in Yuma’s eyes if it weren’t for the heaviness that remains in 96′s touch, and the lingering aura that surrounds them from what he woke up to this morning. 

96 had settled Yuma down on the sofa, books before him, before they finally leave. It felt like the longest hour Yuma has gone through in quite a while. 

He waits a few moments before dragging himself from where he’s seated, using his one limb to gingerly lower himself on the floor. Then he struggles to move to where his suit is kept. This, too, is something Yuma hasn’t had the need to feel in a long while, 96′s arms (or even Kaito’s or a friend’s) having always been there. It’s a sensation that Yuma allows to let himself cry over openly now that he’s by himself. 

He drags the suit to him once it’s finally reached, and clips it to his body as fast as he can. The circuits he attaches to his head and limbs vibrate some as it firsts assimilates once more to him. Sniffling, he stumbles as he stands with it, panting with the effort to get control of his emotions as he does the mandatory checks on the outfit’s sync once he’s upright. 

Then he rushes outside. Kaito is nearby; 96 can walk to him and Haruto’s place in a little less than an hour, and they haven’t relearned how to operate a vehicle that would get the two of them there in faster time. Yuma sprints to it now, and activates it to run before he even shuts the door. 

When he does, the craft is already levitating, moving to face the direction he memorized by heart. Before the door can latch, a hand grabs onto the metal and blocks its progress. The whine of the craft struggling to bypass its intruder causes Yuma to jump and give a short scream, his eyes widening at 96 tearing the craft back open. 

“Where are you going.” 

“Stop!” Yuma tries, working to accelerate the car regardless of whether or not 96 can break open the door. It moves, speeding towards the path to the next house. Instead of getting shaken off, 96 clings with both arms, riding the car at its side and finally prying the side of it open. 

Another limb sprouts from them, blooming from their flesh and shooting towards Yuma and around his neck, gripping him fast and dragging him from the dashboard. 

“No! Kaito!” He stuggles, a mechanical arm reaching for the comm system before that appendage, too, is held back, something dark cuffing his limbs and pulling. 

Both of them fall from the car, 96 keeping hold of Yuma and falling back to the ground in his steed with ease. The craft mindlessly continues forward without a driver, soon too far away for Yuma to run towards and catch even without his lover holding him back. For the first time since he had to see their changed form on the ship, he fights back, making to punch and kick his captor only for the efforts to be as pointless as it was before. 

But in those days, 96 had been ruled by instinct and corruption alone, not even having the mind to speak and having no strategy to keep Yuma by their side other than by brute force alone. Now, 96′s anger is intelligent, knowing Yuma’s betrayal. The hurt in their expression somehow blends perfectly with the hunger there, and they grate, “You’re trying to leave me?” 

“No!” Yuma yells, and stammers his explanation. “You’re scaring me!” 

They continue to appear unrepentant. Gradually, the sensors attached to Yuma pulse in warning, 96′s hands squeezing the artificial limbs so hard that he hears the material crack and shatter. 

“Good.” They say, and completely rip the outfit from Yuma’s torso. 

A day later, Yuma wakes up to their friend. They know this from a remorse in their eyes that he’s witnessed before. They kneel over him once more, but the look of regret is nearly lost on Yuma. Blood stains their face, their mouth, the dark red still fresh and vibrant enough that Yuma can even see it in the dark of night as 96′s movements on the bed wake him up. 

“Angel.” They greet, reach down and gather him in their arms. “I’m sorry.” 

It doesn’t stop Yuma from shivering, but he hooks one arm around 96 anyway, even as his eyes shine with fear at 96′s appearance. It’s not just their face that’s dirty, and Yuma has no doubt some of the blood on their hands will spread to where they hold him as well. 

“I was just so hungry. I got so hungry.” They emphasize, kneeling over and burying their face in Yuma’s neck. “So hungry. Nothing has ever tasted as good as you. Sweetheart, you were so good to me. You were so good for me when you let me have you.” 

He shakes more violently now and forces his jaw to stay locked close, not wanting to voice his thoughts and ruin what is 96′s calm in comparison to the outburst they went through yesterday. I didn’t “let you.” 

“But I won’t now, angel. I’m full now, sweet thing.” The coos and comforts come in litanies, spoken in hushed tones like 96 is also afraid of startling Yuma more than they already have. “That’s how I’ll manage. I’ll just stay full, and I can keep taking care of you. Yuma, say you love me. Say you still love me.” 

Yuma’s own voice is small of its own accord. “I love you.” The sentiment is short and timid. 

“You don’t need Kaito.” They say more firmly. It’s different from before, and Yuma isn’t sure at the moment which might be less painful: the uncontrolled and mindless craze that 96 was a victim of before, or what they may be becoming now. “You don’t need anyone else but me. I can take care of you. I can take care of you. I’ll be good to you, my favorite thing.” 

agent 96 had been going to the same den for nights now. they’ve played in nightly dens like this before. the flashing lights, loud music, gratuitous dancing and the other activities quietly enjoyed in the corners of these places create the sort of atmosphere they could relax in, their physiology naturally soaking up the energies of every malicious, neurotic, pleasured, and desperate individual in the room. 

it’s not really a habit, but every so often it is a treat that 96 affords themself. 

in this case, they barely managed, honestly still having been working on an assignment with their superiors when they first walked in. astral and kaito had been their company when they all first entered the den, truthfully wandering in only to speak with a contact who had information on an under-the-table arms deal. 

for 96′s two partners, any business to be had in this area was over as soon as that conversation had ended – and like hell 96 would drag astral, their superior-with-a-spotless-record, back for some benign entertainment. at first, though, that was exactly what 96 spitefully had in mind, almost having persisted astral to sit back and relax for once while they themself and kaito interrogate their lead instead. 

in the end, though, 96 is – unbelievably – glad that astral wasn’t talked into taking the seat 96 eventually occupied for themself; the thought of astral catching sight of this little treasure before they would have scratched something in the back of 96′s mind and made their teeth go on edge. 

some of the dancers don’t talk, aren’t even allowed to be touched, and yuma is one of them. 96 caught onto the policies right away when yuma’s face remained impassive and simply playful even as they barraged the human with coos and quiet demands for just a name. by the end of their first night, they still had the sense to ask one of the bartenders the burning question instead. 

yuma looks good on his knees. it’s 96′s favorite position for him, they’ve found; whether the man splays and moves by himself in front of his audience or caresses a pole. they like seeing the human’s bare chest puff out for them, glistening with whatever spread they put on the entertainers here so that their assets be better appreciated. he looks so good looking up at 96, his shapely arms lovely as they feign helplessness behind his back or over his head. and he has such pretty eyes. 

96 has already entertained the plebeian thought of plucking them out so that they’ll only ever again look at them, but in truth, that’d be such a waste. 

astral would kill them if they found out what 96 has been doing, and kaito would have their head as well. 96 doesn’t say these thoughts outright so much as they tease tiny details of their situation to yuma, always hoping for a spark of a genuine reaction or, even better, the human’s curiosity. 

“i bet people do this all the time.” 96 is quiet enough so that only yuma hears them, and they make sure of it, even as they continue to stare at yuma dip lower and make a nice pose for his new regular. “try to talk you into seeing each other during the day. wait until the place closes, hope to get a peek of you when you go outside. maybe hope to get more than just a peek.” 

they’re rewarded with the apprehension yuma hides by dancing his head to the side, though 96 catches the expression. “i wouldn’t hurt you,” they comfort, sweet and melodic and not an ounce effective. “i’d take such good care of you. yuma. don’t you know you’re the reason i come here so often now? i just want to spend all my time with you.” 

yuma’s eyes are lidded when 96 can read them again, and the heaviness there pushes them to go on. “i’m not allowed to do this. to try so hard to talk to you. to try and follow you. i’d get in so much trouble,” they laugh, and answer the question on yuma’s face. “i’m not allowed to want something the way i want you. the people in charge of me would never let me have you. not that they may ever have to worry; this place does so well in protecting you. you’d think with my connections that i could get a piece of your time or at least a number. are you happy being such a nicely kept secret here, yuma?” 

another juicy angle 96 can work from, they realize. if yuma and the dancers are being somehow mistreated or otherwise cooped up by management, it stands to reason that they’d all be damsels in distress, the den fit to fall under target for a raid. it’s a thought that needs support before any serious planning, at least, and so takes a decisive backseat once yuma leans away, back arched and body impressively balanced while delectable thighs and the treasures between them are so graciously displayed for 96. 

“good boy,” they breathe. yuma’s legs twirl, his body spun once as he stands himself up slowly, and 96 leans back to look up at him. 

not long after, 96 approaches the bartender with another request, not missing the way he squints at them like their repeated presence alone has already inspired some just weariness. “how much for yuma?” they ask. 

“you don’t have to pay for anything,” the barian answers, lifting his chin to stare down at 96. “if yuma’s space is available for seating, you can sit and enjoy the show. hell, you don’t even have to sit.” 

“i know that.” 96 snaps. “i’ve had the show; that’s not what i’m talking about. obviously i want to treat more than just my eyes this time.” 

they reign themself back and smile, would-be pleasant despite the obvious rejection in the other’s body language. not sure if simply waving money in front of him would work or not, 96 breaks in before the other can answer, “i couldn’t help but notice that yuma is your only human here.” the smile stays in place even as suspicion runs underneath their tone. “why is that?” 

“what is it to you?” the barian challenges. “humans are allowed to work wherever they want nowadays; if someone can do a job, we hire them. listen, i have other clients to tend to.” he turns away, and 96 can taste the irritation seep from his shoulders like waves despite the dismissal. “i don’t really have time to talk. enjoy your stay, but we’re closing soon.” 

“i know,” they glower back, and distract themself by turning back to where yuma’s small stage is. somehow, they aren’t surprised to see that he isn’t there anymore. did they scare him away? 

they’ve seen where the dancers and some of the other staff go to once the den starts to close: a corridor protected by bouncers that 96 could probably bully their way through if it wasn’t for the fact that the trouble might attract legitimate security – and, as would eventually be likely, their own bosses. 

sneakiness has never truly been 96′s style, but in this case, for the sake of taking and keeping their newly discovered little gem, they might be able to make an exception and adapt. 

it goes against the very real urge to stalk through the small crowds in the den to look for the human, or to simply grab yuma the next night and fight their way out, but 96 manages; leaves quietly that night with the weight of the bartender’s glare on their back and essentially forces themself to not to speak to yuma during their next visit. 

and predictably, it gets to him. there is a restlessness that settles on yuma like a second skin, something that 96 picked up on quickly after their first meeting but that had been overshadowed by the very sudden implosion of lust and other hungry desires emitting from 96 themself at first sight. it’s belated, but they take advantage of yuma’s trait now, keeping their lips shut tight even as yuma’s prolonged looks of inquiry are tempting 96 to spill their thoughts once more. 

they keep up the situational whiplash though, even in the face of astral stepping into security’s lounge area one day to meet with them and ask, “have you not been sleeping? you’ve been taking more naps lately.” 

“and?” 96 immediately snaps, and can’t find it in themself to regret it despite astral’s deepening frown. “have you been saving up another lecture, officer?” 

“we are both emissaries of our world, agent 96. don’t forget that.” astral goes on as 96 stands from the sofa. “please stop reacting so hostile every time i address you. i merely wish that you keep in mind your position, and the image we need to maintain.” 

what unsettles 96 isn’t astral’s insistence on 96 themself having to strive for a record as spotless as their superior’s; it is spotting kaito hovering behind astral, arms crossed and eyes harder than they would like, as though the commander is attempting to gleam on something from the conversation which 96 didn’t want any part of in the first place. the look nags at 96 enough for them to snarl at both their comrades to get on with the day’s assignments, and for 96 to already start making plans the minute the two superiors finally turn their back on them. 

96 keeps up their colder attitude that night, stopping by yuma’s stage briefly without a word before tearing themself away to get a drink. 

it’s still difficult to hone in on a single individual’s emotions when in a room full of people, especially one as stifling as this, but 96′s practice has paid off, and they smile to themself as they feel yuma’s perturbed eyes follow them as they leave, however nearby they still are. indeed it has never been hard for 96 to stay noticed. 

they sit at an angle where they can still watch him from afar, and settle down with their drink just in time to see another patron wander into yuma’s space and take the seat that 96 had been consistently hogging until now. 

96 purses their own lips as yuma registers his new client and immediately flashes the other human his familiar sly smile. his hips begin to move just as playfully, the thin fabric covering his inner thighs and crotch flirting up with each slow, sensual sway. 

it’s not hard to keep up the laser focus 96 has on him. already yuma’s knees are sliding across the surface of the stage, legs slowly yawning wide and narrow again as his hands move up to caress his neck, then play with the edge of his hair. 96 had already known in their first night that most of the dancers weren’t to be touched unless the client wanted an unpleasant visit from the den’s guards, but even so, their nails had been clawing and nicking the skin of their chair as they watched yuma dance, his hands smoothing his own skin and making 96 want to reach out and replace his touches with their own – pet yuma’s neck and hair and wring, pull down and clench. 

maybe that’s why the entertainers here are untouchable. 96 can’t be the only one to have seen their boy and want to dig deep into him, watch the perfect flesh bloom with 96′s own brands and delight in the prospect that he would have to wear them all through the next day. as much as 96 has been avoiding the thought, yuma and most of the workers here still very much have to remain public eyecandy. 

they test yuma’s composure, shifting in their seat and checking if yuma would glimpse the movement. he does. when 96 pushes themself from the bar, yuma’s attention flits briefly at the by now familiar figure stalking closer to his stage again before he looks away. 96 could preen, and nearly smiles as they make to lean on a nearby wall, taking the bartender’s advice and enjoying the show even as the main seat is taken. 

96 doesn’t catch the movement yuma’s patron makes until yuma himself reacts, the ease in his face replaced immediately by eyes flitting wide, and for the first time, 96 hears him yelp as his leg is yanked off the stage by his client’s hand, his own arms bracing the edge to keep himself away. 

96 reacts once yuma is dragged off, and instead of getting hauled into an unfamiliar lap, yuma falls gracelessly on the floor, 96 not bothering to wait for the den’s guards and opting to circle their hands around the other man’s throat, their other hand fisting his hair and yanking him out of the chair so that the stranger topples over with it, 96 standing in between and over both humans. 

they peer over to see yuma scrambling back up to stand before the other man can regain himself, even as the stranger curses, “who the hell do you think you are! you think the whole den belongs to you? i have just as much right to the entertainment as anyone else–” 

he’s down again from 96′s fist as soon as he makes to stand, and 96 takes the opportunity to kick him while he’s down as well, the tip of their boot smacking the human’s gut repeatedly until yuma’s hands grip at their arm and tug. 

“that’s enough, that’s enough!” yuma’s commanding tone turns out to sound as firm as he looks, and it gets 96 to step back, pressing their side to yuma as two of the den’s barians march up. 

one of them grabs the fallen human’s arm while the second takes a moment to hover close to 96 and eyes them. 

“you’re welcome,” they bark at the suspicion oozing from the guard. the barian’s eyes squint at the sentiment, but yuma speaks up once more before either can instigate. 

“it was just him that was causing trouble, gilag.” yuma waves at the slumped form the other barian carries. his other hand, 96 is happy to note, is still curled around their arm. “thank you.” 

gilag, then, takes the injured client’s other arm and helps carry his weight, the two bouncers breaking through the small crowds towards one of the den’s exits. 

“hey,” yuma calls, as though 96 wouldn’t have turned to check on him regardless. “uhm. thanks.” 

likely following 96′s train of thought, yuma’s head ducks down, his eyes darting to the bar and other points of the den in what would have otherwise just looked like bashfulness (though 96 wouldn’t complain if he is). they smirk and decide to tease, “he talks!” 

“yeah,” yuma groans quietly, then stammers, “yeah, i’m actually… well, i shouldn’t, but…it’s not like it’s a serious rule…” 

“it’s just an ordinary rule?” 96 mocks back, and their smile grows wider with yuma’s pout, a part of them soaking in their pet’s new reactions and expressions, and hisvoice. “why couldn’t you have broken such an insignificant rule sooner?” 

“i bet you would have liked that.” yuma finally eases back, letting 96 go only for them to latch onto his wrist again. they can feel him tense some as they lean in closer, yuma’s weariness so pronounced 96 could breathe it. 

“i think you know there are some other ways you can thank me.” they release him then, stepping back and indulging him with some personal space. even with the lights this dim, they can see the tint of pink in yuma’s cheeks, and it pushes 96 to test their luck. quickly, they lean down to peck yuma’s face, and in return their boy yelps again and stares at 96 with what’s honestly a disproportionally scandalized expression. 

“yuma!” the familiar voice of the bartender who seems to like 96 the least causes both of them to turn. “i heard what happened,” he says consolingly while approaching. “i’m sorry i didn’t see. but i’ve been told you’re free to take the rest of the night off duty if you want.”

he peers at 96 when the latter doesn’t move away at being ignored. as always, he’s blatantly displeased to see them, but doesn’t say anything. 

“actually, i’d like that,” yuma answers. 96 perks up when yuma peeks at them. “i’ll take it. …i should go.” 

his sentence fades uncertainly, and 96 isn’t sure if it’s their perception or their wishful thinking, but it’s almost as though yuma is reluctant to leave without a proper send-off. 

so they smile and tsk, “shame.” part from boldness and part from spite towards their extra company, they reach up and rub their thumb on the side of yuma’s face. he startles away. “unless you’ll suggest spending the rest of the night out with me?” 

“he won’t,” the bartender blunts. 96 has half the mind to glare and reply, but yuma stutters past his blush and agrees. 

“yeah, i shouldn’t!” he steps back, continuing, “it’s against the rules, uhm. but, you know, i guess–” he stares at 96 and says softly, “i’ll see you…tomorrow…?” 

96 can’t get a hold of whether yuma is pacifying or hopeful or a bit of both, but takes the attempt at a casual goodbye regardless. “of course,” they promise. 

the smile yuma gives is small and as reluctant as his tone, and he turns away. 96 takes their time watching yuma’s retreating backside until he turns into the corridor. 

the barian says nothing, and only glares at 96 once more before returning to his post. 96 themself idles, decides to tend to the familiar chair no one else had paid much mind to and pulls it upright again. the empty space feels simply nostalgic without any delicious human writhing on stage, so soon enough, 96 makes their way towards the bar as well, opting to simmer down with another drink before leaving. 

as soon as they spot kaito loitering by the walls outside the den, they congratulate themself on deciding to drink after all. they may need it. 

“this isn’t really your scene, is it, commander?” they approach instead of ignoring him. as much as the uptight ass deserves disregard, he probably deserves to be chewed out even more. “unless i had the wrong impression of you all along. what are you doing here?” 

“occupying a public space,” he answers. “something not worth being questioned over. unless you’d like to explain yourself as well.” 

so he knows. 96 outright sneers, “astral got you to watch me during personal hours now too?” 

“it was my idea,” kaito counters, like it makes any difference. he braces himself from the wall and faces 96 fully. “we both noticed your behavior as of late. i know your kind doesn’t need as much rest or sleep as humans, but even for an astral being – especially one like you – you’ve clearly been exhausted lately. it’s part of our job to make sure you’re not doing anything stupid, on assignment or not.” 

“how considerate! what’s the verdict, then?” they challenge, all the more irate at their commander’s coolness. “from your thoughtful observations, have i earned another few months under lockdown? or just a slap on the wrist? honestly, i’ve done nothing i haven’t done before.” 

“i disagree.” the reply makes 96 clench their teeth and hiss. “i’m surprised you had the gall to pick a fight in the first place. i read up on your history. i know the shit you had to go through the last time you hurt someone outside of a mission, and your orders tell you to hold back as much. yet here you are, risking your freedom in this tactless place. what for?” 

96 can feel their insides tremble with the threatening undercurrent kaito gives off, their insides vibrating with the anticipation of being let free once more to do damage. they’ll have not much to lose if kaito is willing to put force where his mouth is, if he’s really ready to take 96 into secure custody again. and everyone knows they’d never surrender quietly, policy and futility be damned. 

“what i do in my own time is, quite frankly, none of your business,” 96 glowers, figuring to make their point before the potential for a fight or escape blows out. 

kaito shrugs. “not according to my orders, actually, nor astral’s. you know that.” 

96 nearly sees red before kaito sighs and concedes, “but i’m impressed.” the look he gives 96 is almost like a cringe when he says, “not by the way you’re ready to jump at my throat for stating a truth, but…i honestly didn’t see you as the type to defend another person at a risk to yourself. it was good of you.” 

“i don’t need your praise.” though it does get 96 to reign themself back, realizing what the point of kaito’s runaround speech is; not that it was worth it. “i didn’t do it so you can give me a gold star.” 

he glares. serves him right. “no one in their right mind would give you anything, never mind a prize for simply being decent, but in your case, it’s a sad improvement. that dancer–” 96′s jaw tightens at the mention “–you like him. right?” 

“so what.” it is exactly why 96 had wanted to act more quickly in the first place once it dawned on them just how strong their appetite for yuma is, enough that they keep coming back to the same den every night. they would never let me have you. “is that anything to be worried over?” 

“no,” kaito answers. they can’t tell if he’s being completely honest or not. “it’s a good thing, obviously. you’re even protecting him. why wouldn’t you think to let astral know about this? they’d like the news.” 

“i’ll pass,” 96 drawls. “it’s tiring enough to have the both of you breathing down my neck; what more if i start getting pats on the back on top of it.” 

“how horrible.” it’s not as though 96 hasn’t considered it before, but it would no doubt incur the unwelcome monitoring from their said supervisor during 96′s visits to the den – just as their commander is doing now. “you can count me out of admiring you for something this small. but no one can deny you did help someone today.” 

“are you saying you’d put in a good word for me?” 96 scoffs. “write me a recommendation letter? grant me a position where i have access to more freedoms?” 

“don’t push your luck.” kaito advises. in vain. “i thought we ought to follow you tonight and watch. i thought you’d be found in something sinister, and i was wrong.” 

and 96 finally smiles, if insincerely. “at least i’m happy to provide more of your personal follies.” 

kaito frowns and starts moving away. his words still hold an insufferable amount of warning rather than any sort of amicability, “keep up the good work.” 

96 doesn’t deem the farewell any sort of response, their gaze simply following kaito’s movement until he’s out of sight. the air just outside the den isn’t particularly clean or refreshing either, but it’s definitely not as stifling. the barriers built inside kaito’s brain, however, as well the the ones he wears even casually prevent 96 from being able to read more than what the human would let him – and of course the asshole would want them to pick up on the more antagonistic emotions. 

they allow themself to stand leisurely for a few more moments and shake off the tension that the conversation left on them before finally moving to the direction of a corridor nearby. the deeper they go, the stronger the impressions of anger and pain and greed are, all from past visitors looking to make some illicit exchange – though the agony radiates from one source in particular. 

“you’re a dick,” the man spits. 96 sees him hunched over and clutching his middle, struggling to stand but still able to throw 96 as dirty of a look as the pain in his face would allow. “don’t tell me you came to finish what you started? fucking hypocrite.” 

“i think you’ve had enough for one day. but you did handle my boy a little too roughly.” they smile at the glint of fear in his eyes, toying with the idea. “grabbing him the way you did. effective, but if i find a bruise there and know it’s not from me, then, well, maybe i won’t care about how much beatings you can handle for one day.” 

he visibly flinches when 96 reaches into their inner coat pocket, and they know the human is ready to flee as best he can. they pluck out the credits they owe him out quickly then, and witness relief come over him at the sight of money as opposed to something that would’ve made his night a lot worse. 

when he makes no move to meet 96 halfway for his payment, 96 tosses it to his feet. “as we agreed.” 

“i’m never doing this for you again,” he grunts, more so when bending over to retrieve 96′s offer. “it was just an act. you were just supposed to hit me once, maybe! but this– i’m going to feel this for a week.” 

“i left a tip,” 96 consoles; grins when they’re met with another dark look. “don’t be so down. if i didn’t engage in some theatrics, it would’ve been less believable, and you wouldn’t have gotten your reward.” 

they don’t wait for a response and leave, taking a deep breath of the man’s pointless fury as they add, “serves you right for how crudely you handled him.” 96 themself hadn’t considered that yuma might be injured, however mildly, from their hired help; had pictured the man giving yuma some unwelcome groping, though that honestly would not have incurred any less of a reaction from 96. 

regardless, it got 96 what they had hoped for when they cooked up this plan. in fact, yuma seems to have reacted far more positively than 96 would have thought. there had been a cute sort of hesitance from him at whether or not to banter, on how to say goodbye, and they dare say there had even been a hesitance to leaving the way he did. 

that possibility in particular makes a part of 96 gleeful. it’s been long since they’ve felt this strongly towards any certain desire, since something they’ve been truly greedy for has been any sort of close. the eagerness almost makes 96 uncertain of what they’d even do to yuma should he actually walk into 96′s grasp, almost makes them tentative on how to act next so that he could be kept there. 

(but if everything goes smoothly, if 96 can keep up this unfamiliar way of scheming to get what they want, maybe yuma wouldn’t be able to escape by the end of this anyway.) 

kaito’s appearance is a wrench in their plans, but from his words, perhaps even his rude drop-by is more of a benefit for 96 in the long run. the only person they had aimed to affect from the staged stunt was yuma, but if even their commander begins to see 96 in a less hostile light, then 96 can’t say they would be displeased with the new privileges that may offer. 

they wouldn’t get their hopes up on that front, though. even when giving his approval, kaito had made it clear what his impression of 96 remained to be, even having the gall to outright admit that he elected for 96 to be spied on tonight. i thought we ought to follow you. the intentional casualness he used to describe such a detestable aspect of 96′s days causes the flesh 96 wears to feel prickly and tense. 

it makes them pause too, the memory suddenly triggering a nauseating wave of paranoia. i thought we ought to follow you. on impulse, they look behind them, and don’t feel any better at seeing no one there. they spread their reach and can’t find it in themself to be convinced that they’re safe even when the familiar presence of astral is nowhere near enough to be felt; they know as well as anyone from their world and the galactical alliance that astral has strong enough abilities to block out someone as comparatively inexperienced from detecting them. 

they curse aloud. it was careless to have agreed to pay the roach on the same night. 96 hurries back to their home, weighing the likeliness of astral having disagreed with kaito’s plan in the first place, or of having left along with their human comrade once the commander gave his report of what he saw 96 do. it’s not a stretch; otherwise, why wouldn’t astral have shown themself by now? 

yes. that 96 had made the exchange with the impostor just now without prying eyes is still a stronger likelihood. they berate themself anyway, for not having picked up on kaito’s revolting throw-away phrase and what it could mean, for not being able to do anything about the feeling of eyes honed on them as they retire, for the sinking and gradually worsening feeling of their paranoia being perfectly justified.