2. Back on two feet, Shouta finds that every step is a difficult balancing act.
Yamada pulled out a stool at the kitchen counter, then proceeded not to sit on it. “When were you going to tell me this, man?” What kind of question was that. “Now. I just did.” Mic let out another unsettling laugh. Shouta thought that he, at least, had better sit down. He did so at the table, and his knee screamed silently against the prosthesis. He tightened his face and waited for whatever was going to come out of Yamada next. Again, it was not what he’d expected. “How’s that going?” “Fine.” Shouta swallowed. “I mean. So far there’s not a lot I can tell you. He doesn’t say much.” This was the truth, if not much could be allowed to stand in for not a single word. “Well, yeah.” Yamada’s face twisted into something that was shaped sort of like a smile, but wasn’t one. “He works for the guy who tore out your eye and killed Kayama. The guy who’s trying to murder us all and destroy the world. Remember?” “I know. That’s the point. That’s why they want him to talk.” “And they think he’ll talk to you.” “They hope so. They said…” He didn’t really want to finish the sentence. “They said their own efforts weren’t effective.” Mic turned his head away a little, at that. But he didn’t comment on it. “They asked you to do this? Or what, told you to?” “They asked.” “Like you were gonna say no,” Yamada scoffed. “Man, fuck them!” He punctuated this last sentiment with rising volume and a sharp slap against the counter. This was more along the lines of what Shouta had expected. Might as well have the rest of it out. “I know what you want to tell me,” he told Yamada. “Come on and say it.” Yamada looked back at him and folded his arms. After a moment he did say it, quietly. “He’s not Shirakumo.” “Even if he isn’t,” Shouta said, “he was.”
Read the rest on AO3.
