« Hey... Sakuya, I was wondering... »
Sakuya had just finished adjusting the collar of his black suit. The fabric was still stiff, brushing against the back of his neck as he came to a stop. Shinobu's voice alone was enough to pull all of his attention.
« The N.A.S.C agents' training... » Shinobu hesitated for a fraction of a second. « Is it going well? »
Sakuya's brows tightened slightly, but he didn't turn around.
« You really picked a great time to ask me that, Shino... »
His voice wasn't sharp, but there was a restrained exhaustion in it, something tense under the surface. Shinobu immediately raised both hands, as if to clear up a misunderstanding.
« Sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot. » He took a deep breath before continuing, calmer. « It's just... since when are you forced to train with them? »
He paused.
« And I'm guessing that's also why I haven't been allowed to come see you at the complex for a month. »
Sakuya crossed his arms slowly. The gesture was automatic, almost defensive. He stayed silent for a few seconds, then let out a quiet sigh.
« Since my session in Capsule Eight. » He lifted his head slightly. « Like I told you... even though the machine displayed "NULL," they still labeled me as a probable Theta. »
Shinobu scratched the back of his head, clearly confused.
« Wait... what? » He stared at him. « Since when are you a Theta, Sakuya? That makes no sense. You were an Alpha. »
He frowned too, thinking hard.
« I know Seimei can change with age, sometimes it goes up a little... but not like that. Not after eighteen. » His voice dropped. « What happened to you, exactly? »
Sakuya lowered his eyes to the floor. His gaze drifted for a moment, like he was trying to organize something too vast to explain in simple words.
« They say I have compressed Seimei. »
Shinobu blinked.
« Compressed... Seimei? » He tilted his head. « What is that even supposed to mean? »
A faint smile pulled at Sakuya's lips. A tired, almost ironic smile.
« Honestly? I don't really know. » He shrugged slightly. « Apparently it means my Seimei can't be measured like everyone else's. That it doesn't behave "normally." »
He paused.
« But to be honest... I don't really have time to think about it. »
His eyes hardened a little.
« They're putting me through hell with Seimei training. Every day. No breaks. » A breath slipped out of him. « Sometimes, I really feel like I'm going to crack. »
He fell quiet.
A short silence settled between them. Not a heavy one, just the kind that stretches when too much is left unsaid. Shinobu finally spoke again, unable to let it take over completely.
« Anyway... » he started, hesitant. « I know it might not be the best time to talk about all this. »
He inhaled softly.
« It's just... I have so many questions for you. » His eyes drifted for a moment. « Everything's gotten... weird lately. »
Sakuya nodded slowly.
« Yeah... » A brief pause. « You're right. Nothing really feels the same anymore. »
He turned toward Shinobu then and looked him up and down, like he was actually seeing him properly for the first time in a while.
« Still... » he added, a little lighter, « that suit looks really good on you, Shino. »
Shinobu blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone.
« Uh... thanks. » A clumsy smile appeared on his face. « Yours looks good too, Saku. »
Sakuya let out a small, amused smile.
He knew Shinobu too well. He'd always been kind of awkward with compliments, never fully comfortable saying them out loud.
And strangely... it helped.
Sakuya took a slow breath, then continued in a slightly lighter tone, almost casually.
« And don't worry, Shino. I promise I'll answer all your questions after the funeral. »
He lifted his hands a little, like he was defending himself in advance.
« It's not that I don't want to, okay. It's just... lately my head's kind of a mess. » He gave a half-smile. « And I want to use this rare day out to think about something else besides Seimei, protocols, and people who want to turn me into graphs. »
Shinobu nodded calmly.
« You're right. » A short sigh. « This is definitely not the moment. »
Sakuya stepped closer, more serious this time.
« Thanks for coming with me. » He hesitated, then added more quietly, « I don't say it enough, but... it really means a lot to me. »
Shinobu looked at him for a second, then lightly bumped his shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to break the mood.
« Hey, hold on. » He narrowed his eyes like he was offended. « Who do you think you are, exactly? »
A crooked smile appeared.
« Just so you know, I knew Kanao before you did. » Shinobu lifted his chin slightly, trying to look composed. « Of course I'm here to pay my respects one last time. What did you think? »
His voice was meant to sound firm. Almost teasing. But something cracked.
A small twitch crossed his face, quick and uncontrolled. Then another. Like his features suddenly refused to obey him.
« Yeah... » he murmured. « I knew her too... »
His face tightened brutally, without warning, twisted by a pain that had nothing to do with his body. His jaw clenched, his lips trembled. Shinobu tried to look up at Sakuya, like he was searching for help, or maybe permission to fall apart.
But he turned his eyes away immediately.
« Saku... »
He didn't get to finish.
The tears burst out all at once, violent and uncontrollable. Not slow, contained sadness, but an explosion. Like everything he'd been holding back for far too long had shattered in a single second.
His shoulders started to shake. His breathing broke into uneven, rough sobs, almost ashamed. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks, falling heavy, staining the dark fabric of his suit.
He was really crying.
Not neatly. Not quietly. He cried like someone who had finally realized that what was gone would never come back.
Sakuya didn't hesitate for a second.
He stepped in immediately and wrapped his arms around Shinobu, holding him with a firmness that felt almost desperate. Not to calm him. Not to silence him. Just to be there.
« Shinobu... »
His voice was low, but steady.
« This time, it's my turn to say it. »
He tightened his embrace slightly.
« I'll always be here for you too. » A breath. « You're my best friend. And... all I have left in this world. »
Shinobu was still sobbing, unable to answer.
Sakuya kept going, even more determined, like he was carving every word into his own skin.
« I promise you. » « I will never stop training. » « I will never give up. » « And I will never, ever let you down. »
He paused, then added, almost like an oath.
« Clear? »
Shinobu finally lifted his head.
His eyes were still red, still wet, but something had changed. The storm had passed. The marks were still there, the damage too, but the brutal wave that had swallowed him moments ago was gone.
He looked at Sakuya, steadier now. Less drowned in grief.
And slowly, he smiled.
Not a forced smile. Not the kind you wear to pretend you're fine.
A sincere smile. Fragile. Real.
« I'm really glad that you... » He hesitated, like the words were hard to push out. « ...that you're still here. »
The sentence fell softly.
But the impact was immediate.
A quiet shock. Silent. And yet deeply tangible for Sakuya.
He froze for a split second, unable to answer.
Those words woke something up inside him.
Sakuya couldn't stop thinking about the strange gap between them. That invisible, massive difference in how they had lived through the last few months.
Him, locked inside the complex.
Cut off from the world. Cut off from time.
He'd had all the space in the world to fold inward. To think. To spiral. To survive the present moment, with no other responsibility than existing again the next day. Every day looked the same. Every pain had a frame. A reason. A protocol.
He'd only had to fight himself.
Shinobu, on the other hand, had to keep going.
Keep living. Keep smiling. Keep moving forward like nothing had happened.
With Kanao gone. For good.
He'd had to face the world as it was, with no pause, no isolation, none of the strange bubble outside reality that the complex had forced on Sakuya.
And then a thought forced itself into Sakuya's mind.
As cruel as it was honest.
For Sakuya... all of it had almost felt like a kind of therapy.
A violent therapy. Dehumanizing. Terrifying, sometimes. But therapy all the same.
A place where he only had to worry about himself. His breath. His body. What he was feeling right here, right now.
While Shinobu never had that luxury.
The realization tightened something in Sakuya's chest.
And for the first time in a long time, he truly understood what those simple words meant.
I'm glad you're still here.
Not as politeness. Not as comfort.
But as an admission. And as a silent recognition of everything they had survived in different ways.
After that exchange, Sakuya and Shinobu left the room the complex had assigned to Sakuya.
The hallway felt strangely quiet. Too quiet. Sakuya's footsteps echoed softly over the smooth floor while Shinobu rolled beside him in his wheelchair, silent. No agent accompanied them inside. As if they were being allowed, on purpose, one last moment of normalcy before returning to reality.
They passed through the outer doors.
Cold air hit them immediately.
Outside, a black car was already waiting, engine running, perfectly still. It had been there for a while. Fifteen minutes at least. Like everything had been timed in advance.
Sakuya moved to walk around the vehicle, then stopped dead.
Something was wrong.
Or rather... someone was.
An agent was already seated in front, in the driver's seat.
Sakuya recognized him instantly.
Hair bristling up in messy spikes. A hard face carved with old scars, some thin, some wider, all of them telling the story of violence he seemed to wear with pride.
Juzo.
A dull tension ran through Sakuya's body.
Before he could even think, he stepped up to the driver's window. Juzo turned his head slowly, like he'd been waiting for him the whole time.
Sakuya leaned in slightly.
« What are you doing here? » His voice was low, but sharp. « Don't tell me you're the one escorting us to the funeral. »
A smile appeared immediately on Juzo's face.
Not a reassuring smile. An amused one. Almost delighted.
« What? » he said with a small shrug. « You got a problem with that? »
His grin widened.
« Either way, you and I don't really get a choice. » He paused, then added in a falsely accommodating tone. « Don't worry, I'll behave. »
Then he leaned toward the open window, closing the distance. His eyes locked straight onto Sakuya's.
« And in case you forgot... » His voice dropped, heavier now. « I'm the one watching you. Not the other way around. »
A freezing silence settled.
Sakuya held his gaze for a second too long, then understood.
There was nothing to negotiate. Nothing to discuss. Nothing to win.
Protesting would only make it worse.
He stepped back slowly, jaw tight, then turned to Shinobu. With a single gesture, discreet but clear, he told him to get in.
Shinobu hadn't said a word.
But he'd seen everything.
And as Sakuya opened the back door, a heavy, unpleasant certainty settled in his mind.
This ride was going to be the first real trial of the day.