Looking at Chitose now, it's hard to understand how Dewa ever became friends with him. It's hard also to understand how they've managed to stay friends.

They met when Dewa was thirteen and Chitose was fourteen, and the world was a lot simpler. That is a lie. The world has never been simpler. For them, it hasn't even been nice.

ØØØ

Throwing his hands up, Chitose throws his hands up and shoves his chair back from the table. It scrapes noisily against the floor, earning him a glare from the librarian. "I don't get this!"

Dewa adjusts his glasses and sighs. Moral education is particularly difficult for Chitose.

"You have to stop trying to think about it," he tells Chitose for the hundredth time. "They don't want to hear what you think. They want to hear the right answer."

At the start of his second year of junior high, Dewa took up tutoring in his spare time. It wasn't as a favor to any particular teacher or some misbegotten filial duty to his fellow students: Dewa simply didn't want to go home. The librarian let him stay as long as he kept himself suitably occupied, and it wasn't long before he ran out of things to read. There were no computers in his run-down shitshow of a school, and PDAs were to be kept off in the library. Tutoring became his go-to activity when the librarian started spreading word that he was a student who actually cared.

Chitose is a lesson in frustration. He isn't much good at any subject or particularly interested in his grades. He's persistent, though, and he genuinely tries. That one quirk sets him apart in a school where the dropout rate is forty-nine percent.

The outside world lauds Shizume City as a technological wonder, the capital of one of the world's most successful economies. Look at the skyscrapers and the cleaning 'bots. Look at the school island, where thousands of high schoolers receive first-rate education. Look at the accomplished police force keeping such perfect order.

The great Shizume City, where the sounds of crying babies and domestic abuse rock millions to sleep. Away from the city center, the streets don't shine so prettily and the trash piles make comfortable beds for the homeless, children and adult alike. The cleaning robots the outside world celebrates were created to manage the encroaching filth of Shizume's public places, but out here no one cares. Yakuza and lesser gangs don't bother to hide, and no one knows who's there to protect and who to harm. The police do nothing.

The technological miracle is a miracle for a few thousand and a worthless phrase for the millions more who live in the city.

Kusanagi Izumo could tell you with certainty that the Gold King, Kokujoji Daikaku, was behind the transformation that made Shizume City and Japan into what it is today. The Gold King, with the help of his oddly-named Rabbits, brought about the series of famous inventors, engineers, doctors, architects, and businessmen that are now household names. It's a pity, Kusanagi would also say, that those with tapped potential get to live in the technological miracle while the untapped are left to suffer on the ground.

Dewa doesn't know Kusanagi yet. When he meets him, he will find a kindred spirit, someone with one foot in the light and the other in the shadows.

"But what if it's not the right answer?" Chitose asks. He's brash and he's foolish, and Dewa can see his future all too clearly.

"Then you pretend it is."

"That's stupid."

"That's school."

It's simple: memorize the right things and you'll succeed. Think critically and you'll fail. The happy medium is to think critically, keep your mouth shut if your thoughts differ from the prescribed answer, and stew in your own nihilism.

Funnily enough, it was the school's English teacher who pointed Chitose his way. The woman is a foreigner and has different ideas about education. Instead of calling Chitose another bad student because he doesn't like memorization, she decided he has potential and needs to keep struggling his way through school.

Dewa he absolutely does not care about this kid. If he wants to fail, let him.

Only Chitose turns out to be stubborn, not lazy. He wants to pass. It's just that he genuinely doesn't get some of his classes. Most students either swallow what they're told or blow it all off. Some, like Dewa, are just waiting until they can get out.

Not Chitose. He plans to change things.

"The world is sick," he says, "and I want to make it better."

He's earnest about this, too, and doesn't get why Dewa laughs at him. Dewa can't agree with half the things Chitose says, but tutoring is boring and Chitose actually shows up. Sitting in the school library talking to this idealistic kid is better than going home.

At the very least, he makes Dewa think.

ØØØ

"What are you doing?"

Chitose turns his face up from his bent over position of supplication. "Are you going to take it or not?"

Dewa looks at the package suspiciously.

Chitose rattles it.

"It's not poison."

"That's reassuring."

Chitose smiles. He seems to think smiling is the best response to most situations.

"Are you going to take it?" Chitose repeats. "My back is starting to hurt."

"Fine."

It turns out to be marinated, grilled squid. It even looks homemade. Dewa continues to look at it suspiciously. Not poison…but why?

It would probably go great with his rice.

Dewa's stomach growls.

"My mom told me to give it to you. Since you're tutoring me and all."

"Your mom makes it?" It can't be that bad then. Moms are supposed to be good cooks. Dewa would like to have a mother who cooked for him.

"Yep. She's a really good cook, too."

ØØØ

"My mom made extra. You want some?"

He offers so often and Dewa is so grateful for anything that isn't store-bought that he let his guard down and stops being suspicious. Chitose, he figures, isn't trying to make a fool of him.

In the end, it doesn't matter that Dewa gave up his wariness. He'd never guess Chitose's motives.

ØØØ

Dewa makes it a goal to get Chitose into high school. He is barely smart enough for it. His chances won't be great if he doesn't finish junior high school.

Dewa says these things like they mean anything. The fact is, fewer and fewer of his acquaintances return with each new semester, and it isn't always because they aren't good enough. School isn't that hard. What is hard is falling into a gang or caring when you know finishing isn't going to make your life better, or dying. It is hard to study when you are dead.

Dewa knows exactly who can get through high school on their own and he doesn't worry about them. They are the few who are going somewhere.

He doesn't want to lose Chitose, and he isn't exactly sure why.

ØØØ

It is better to be in the small house where nothing works quite right then at home where everything does because no one is ever there to mess it up.

Chitose's mother has a new boyfriend every time Dewa comes over, which admittedly isn't often. Either Chitose's father ran off or he was never in the picture to begin with. Dewa doesn't ask and Chitose doesn't say.

Chitose's mother always coughs delicately into her hand, cigarette clutched between her slim fingers. Her brown hair is a duller version of her children's copper sheen, her face paler. Dewa has never once seen her fully rested. She always smells like cigarettes and flowers. She makes terrible choices regarding men, but she loves her children fiercely and does the best she can for them.

Her smile makes Dewa's cheeks hot and his stomach flip-flop.

He finally drums up the courage to talk to her the fifth time he comes over. Normally, she's rushing to get out the door, heading out to work or a date, but today she's in the kitchen folding dishtowels.

"Thank you," Dewa says, feeling fluttery and formal, "for the food."

"Hmm?" Chitose's mother says. She has a breezy, slightly absentminded quality to her. "Oh, the mochi? It's nothing, dear." She had set out a plate of sweets for them.

Dewa swallows. Is she being polite? He's never had to talk to a friend's mother like this before.

"I meant the other food."

"What other food?"

"The food you had Yo give me for tutoring."

Her face twists into a politely bewildered expression. She honestly doesn't know.

"You told my mom you're tutoring me?"

"Of course," Dewa snaps. It isn't important. That Chitose's mother might think Chitose is spending his tutoring time doing something else doesn't occur to him. "Why doesn't she know about the food, Chitose?"

"What food?"

"You know what food."

"I really don't." Chitose looks slightly pained. He won't meet Dewa's gaze.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you!"

"So you're just pitying me. Great, Chitose, that's just great."

"I don't understand why you're mad at me!" Tears prick at the corners of Chitose's eyes.

"Because you lied!"

"You were eating rice and pickled radish!"

"Maybe that's what I want to eat."

"You hate it," Chitose says, in one of his moments of perfect clarity. "You should see your face. Every day, it's the same thing: white rice and pickled radish. That's all you bring. You can buy a bento- they don't cost that much- except you don't. You sit there and you eat your pickled radish, pretending like you don't hate it. I'm sorry I thought you might want something else!"

"I didn't ask for your charity." The acid in Dewa's throat is gone. "And you didn't have to lie about it. Why did you lie?"

Chitose worries his lip and shrugs. "I didn't think you'd take it if I said I'd brought it."

"I wouldn't've," Dewa admits. He never likes to lie when it matters. "My parents- they aren't ever home. I think sometimes they forget I'm even there. There isn't always enough for me to have a big lunch and still eat breakfast and dinner." He likes to keep the eggs for breakfast and the meat for dinner. What is the point in having an interesting lunch when school is already so boring?

They stare at each other. Chitose's face is saying he doesn't understand why Dewa's mad, why a lie can hurt. It's baffling. It takes too much effort to stay mad at such blatant obliviousness like that.

"Don't lie to me again," Dewa says finally, resigned.

"Okay."

This is the first of a thousand promises Chitose doesn't keep.

Chitose-san loses much of her allure after Dewa finds out she doesn't actually know his name or who he is other than Chitose's friend. She is still a wonderful woman, even if Chitose seems to have caught wind of Dewa's affection.

"She doesn't have a boyfriend, you know," he teases Dewa.

Dewa raises an eyebrow. He never humors Chitose. Eventually, Chitose forgets and Dewa does, too.

Chitose doesn't stop bringing him food after that, but he does drop the façade of it being a gift. Dewa accepts the food because, Chitose is right, he doesn't like pickled radishes and he has yet to learn to cook for himself.

ØØØ

"If I left, would you go with me?" Chitose asks one day. He's got a purpling bruise on his left cheekbone. He said the other kid deserved it, talking shit about his family like that. Dewa may or may not have smashed the kid's fingers in a door earlier that afternoon.

"What do you mean?"

"If I got out of here, like ran away, would you come with me?" He expects Dewa to say no. You can see it on his face, in the sad slant on his mouth.

"Your mother would miss you," is what Dewa says. What he means is: always.

ØØØ

For a few months in his first year if high school, Dewa thinks he might be gay.

It starts with the disappointment of his first kiss.

Yui is pretty—average, really. They are all average, really, save for Chitose. Chitose actually passes into the reasonably attractive zone. Dewa knows this from the amount of love confessions he gets from the first and even second year girls.

The fact that this ever crosses his mind, comparing a girl willing to kiss him to his closest friend is the second thing.

The kiss isn't unpleasant. Yui doesn't slobber on him or otherwise break social etiquette. She isn't in any way to blame. Ultimately, it is just plain boring. They part ways amicably.

At least, he thinks they do.

"People are talking about you, you know," Chitose tells him in between disgustingly large bites of an apple. "Want some?" He holds out the half-eaten fruit.

Dewa shakes his head and picks at his bento. There isn't much excitement when you pack it yourself. Oh, joy, the same pickled radish and rice I packed this morning. How ever did it get there?

"Don't you want to know what they're saying?"

Yes. "Not particularly. It's probably all lies, anyway."

"You mean you aren't a limp-dicked heartbreaker?"

"What?"

"You really did a number on Yui. Her friends are spreading all sorts of rumors about you. It's awesome."

Dewa glares.

Chitose's cough is obviously fake. "I mean horrible. Absolutely horrible. They're all terrible people for saying anything. What'd you do to her anyway?"

"I kissed her."

"Did you really? Wow, good for you, Dewa." Chitose slides an umaibo across the table. Dewa extricates it from its noisy package and bites into its crunchy deliciousness.

"I didn't enjoy it," he admits.

"Oh." Chitose's shoulders slump. He seems very interested in this conversation. Dewa would rather not talk about it, to be honest. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"Um."

"No, Dewa, no, no, no. You can't tell girls they're bad at kissing!"

"I didn't tell her she was bad at it. I just said I didn't like it."

Chitose considers that for a moment. "You don't like kissing?"

Dewa shrugs.

The three girls Chitose convinces to kiss him do nothing to change Dewa's confusion.

The perverted upperclassman Dewa gets to make out with him a week later does.

ØØØ

Her name is Kikuchi Kaori. Black hair, brown eyes, taller than average. She isn't exactly beautiful, but she has an energy to her, a certain charisma that draws you to her. Or so most people say. Dewa isn't enamored by her. Chitose is.

The reason Dewa would never say Chitose toyed with people is because he has seen what a real manipulator is like. A real manipulator changes the people they use, slips right under their skin and makes them do things they wouldn't otherwise. They are not indecisive.

They are not like Chitose.

ØØØ

There aren't any bruises Dewa can see. There isn't anything other than Chitose's memory lapses, his odd excuses, and that worryingly fond smile he gets when Dewa asks a question he won't answer.

Dewa's parents never hit him. They never yell at him or punish him. They're not around enough to do any of that.

There is more than one kind of abuse.

Why does he care so much?

ØØØ

Dewa loses his virginity more out of a feeling that he should than any real desire.

The orgasm he gets feels good, but back scratches feel good, too. Dewa's never done those just for the hell of it. Where's the magic everyone's always talking about? Is this what he's supposed to be daydreaming of, his body moving against someone else's? If it is, it's overrated.

ØØØ

It would have been worse if Chitose hadn't broken it off. Then he would be stuck with her for longer. He'd be even more broken than he is now.

Abusers don't let you go. You escape them or you perish. Chitose escapes Kaori physically but he is still trapped in the mindset she left him in.

It's painful to watch his deterioration. Chitose seems to lose a part of himself every day, becoming more and more a stereotype until Dewa's left wondering whether the person he befriended even exists anymore.

ØØØ

"You can tell your boyfriend he can come, too," the salesgirl passing out fliers says, smiling sweetly.

Dewa gives her a disgruntled look and makes a note to do no such thing. It isn't like Chitose, who's talking to her short-skirted companion, would listen if he did.

The annoying part is she doesn't believe what she said. She thinks he's in love with Chitose, and it's a one-sided relationship. She wants to needle him, make him squirm. All because her job is boring.

You would think people would realize calling Chitose Dewa's boyfriend wouldn't be the least bit witty. You would. People do it all the time, often when Chitose is making a fool of himself chatting some girl up. Dewa isn't sure whether he is more annoyed because they think he is responsible for the idiot or because it hits too close to home.

Dewa tosses the flier to the ground.

ØØØ

Homra offers them a place after Chitose gets them embroiled in a fight with a couple of low-level thugs. Chitose doesn't quite have the sense not to start shit and Dewa has too much of a mean streak to stop him, so this is a bit of a regular occurrence. It is admirable, Chitose's sense of justice, and it is downright foolhardy. Dewa doesn't suffer from the same moral proclivities. He does, however, have a strong dose of common sense. You could say they balance each other out. You could also say Dewa is the reason Chitose hasn't had his head bashed in to date.

Well, now he's Homra's problem. Rather, he is less Dewa's problem because he is protected by an Aura neither of them yet understands and an unsavory assortment of borderline thugs.

They fit right in.

ØØØ

"Are you going to shake my hand or not?"

These are the first and most important words the Red King ever says to him. Never again does he look at Dewa with the slightest interest.

ØØØ

Violence is their lifeblood. Dewa has read books on gangs. He understands they are about the weak trying to feel strong and violence is a way to show what little power they have. The Red Clan is that and more: they have actual power. They make people afraid. Even alone, a few of them- Yata, Kusanagi-san, the King- terrify people.

Despite this, they don't kill. If there's one rule the lower echelons of Homra follow, it's that.

Dewa doesn't want to kill anyone. He just thinks it's an odd rule to follow.

Homra's not like the other gangs that prowl and plague Shizume. Totsuka and Yata think of Homra as a family. Dewa doesn't think of Homra like a family.

What would Dewa's parents say if they knew what he did in his spare time? They are around more these days, his father's back injury keeping him at home while the lines on his mother's forehead deepen. Dewa visits them every few weeks to ease the guilt of being one of the few Clansmen with living, reasonably healthy parents. He even gives his mother his PDA number.

Are the King's parents still alive? Someone had to give birth to him.

ØØØ

Dewa doesn't share Chitose's aversion to Bando. They aren't that different, and that is probably why Chitose hates him. No one is that different in Homra- most of them are broken inside and barely healed. Some have suffered physical damage. Others, like Chitose and Bando, have suffered mental.

It is common in gangs, which is what Homra is at its core. Gangs attract the weak, the defenseless, and the lonely.

It would be easier if Dewa were broken like them, instead of simply fed up with the world and its injustices. Then he wouldn't have to be like Kamamoto, following and worrying over a damaged, destructive personality.

ØØØ

Dewa never meets Fushimi under equitable terms. He catches glimpses of the younger man, certainly, though only as a belligerent. His name is never mentioned, not even by Bando, who knew him once upon a time.

The story comes out in bits and pieces from multiple sources. Chitose doesn't listen; he won't hear other people's problems these days. Dewa, though, deals in information, and Fushimi didn't just destroy Yata's trust when he left.

The story goes like this: there were once two boys who hated the world. One was smart but cynical; the other was angry all the time. The only thing they had in common was their hatred. Despite this, they became the best of friends. One day they left their old lives behind and struck out on their own.

Things didn't go well or maybe it was their intention all along and they ended up on the street.

One day, an old friend of the angry boy took pity on the two and asked his King to offer them a place in his service. The boys agreed.

Here the story differed depending on who was telling it. One person said the cynical boy was a bad fit, another that the two boys grew apart. The King's jester thinks he might be to blame. Always, there was the unspoken aspect of jealousy.

The cynical boy left and joined a rival King's service. There he has stayed to this very day.

The two boys never forgot each other, however. The cynical boy's betrayal ate away at the angry boy, leaving him angrier- and sadder- than before. Their meetings are rare these days, but you don't have to look hard to see the scars they left on each other's hearts.

There are reasons Dewa leaves Yata alone.

ØØØ

"Do you try to change all of your friends?" Totsuka asks. He has his hands folded under his chin and the same breezy smile as always. It unnerves Dewa, though he doesn't know why.

"You ask the strangest questions, Totsuka-san."

"Chitose-kun is older than you, isn't he?" Dewa nods. "Yet you look after him."

"He gets into trouble a lot. Surely, you remember that."

Totsuka tips his head and laughs.

"I do. He's very popular with women. Other people might get upset one of these days if Chitose-kun keeps taking all the pretty ladies."

The thing with Totsuka is you can never know what he's thinking. He deviates from telling wild tales to being a flake to having no sense of personal safety. He seems an idiot, but the way he talks sometimes…Dewa gets the feeling he's more calculating than any of them suspect.

"Most of them can't talk to girls, of course, but it's fun to watch them try, don't you think?"

Secondhand embarrassment isn't something Dewa particularly enjoys, no.

Thankfully, Yata and Kamamoto start one of their explosively loud fights then and Dewa manages to get away without answering any of Totsuka's not quite invasive questions.

ØØØ

Chitose is the most aggravating asshole Dewa has ever met.

Currently, it is two a.m. Chitose is lying on Dewa's floor, humming to himself too loudly to be unobtrusive. Dewa has work in the morning, which Chitose knows but either doesn't care about or has an as-yet-unmentioned reason for not wanting to go back to his own apartment. Likely, it involves a girl and a blunder on Chitose's part because that man makes disgracefully stupid life choices.

"I'm going to bed," Dewa announces.

"Okay."

Dewa waits, willing Chitose to take the hint. Chitose, likely feeling Dewa's disgruntled gaze, turns to look at him and smiles lazily.

"Are you waiting for me to tuck you in?" he asks.

I want you to go home, you fuck. I'm tired and you're still here and this situation is making me very hot and uncomfortable for reasons I don't want to elaborate. Yes, I'd really like you to go home. Dewa, of course, doesn't say this because he is very aware of facts, thanks, and doesn't want Chitose's pity. Or interest. Who knows with Chitose?

Dewa hates that Chitose is such a tease. He can never tell when it is a game and when Chitose is genuinely serious about his intentions, if there is a difference. There isn't. Chitose doesn't do things in halves. It is his motivations that change, not his actions.

To say Chitose toys with people would be disingenuous. Toying implies enjoying making other people do your whim. There is no enjoyment for Chitose. He is running ahead of the storm that is his insides, trying to prove that he has some control over a situation that ended years ago.

Dewa should have a Ph.D. in the psychology of Chitose's tortured mind. He would, if there weren't this massive blindspot in regards to himself.

Chitose pauses in the doorframe and turns back.

"Or you can let me fuck you," he says and Dewa can't tell if he's joking.

"Go home, Chitose."

ØØØ

"You don't live here," Dewa says in what is ultimately a futile effort. As always, Chitose waltzes right in, opens the refrigerator and grabs a beer. He doesn't ask, because of course he doesn't. Dewa just hopes it's some of the beer he bought and not his roommates'.

Dewa does not live alone because, unlike some people, he knows how to balance expenses and he feels no need to waste money for privacy he isn't going to use. His roommates are acquaintances who put up with Chitose's frequent visits, though they gawked the first few times, looking from Chitose to him and back as though it was really such a surprise.

He could get an apartment with another Clansman but he dislikes most of them and they tend not to be of the domestic type. Dewa would also prefer to get his security deposit back. Random strangers it is.

Chitose smiles as he shoves a second bottle across the counter.

"You love me."

The noise Dewa makes is noncommittal.

Chitose tips the brim of Dewa's hat, bringing his gaze downwards, straight into Chitose's unfairly pretty eyes.

"Don't you deny it."

Dewa is probably imagining it, but Chitose doesn't sound like he's joking when he says it.

ØØØ

Finding desire when he thinks he can't feel it is the most terrifying thing in the world. Chitose lives and breathes desire, is desire, and Dewa feels like a fraud with his intermittent pulses of interest.

Once he thought he didn't like anyone at all. Men, women, and everything in between or not at all held no special allure for him. He didn't understand, and he didn't want to. Then he realized he had felt it all along but so rarely and so differently that he'd never thought of it as it was.

Now he's in love and he's more terrified than anything because he can't divorce desire from love and this isn't what he wants. He wants to be that kid again who kissed Yui and knew he didn't like it. He wants to be losing his virginity to an upperclassman because he had to lose it sometime and it didn't matter, he wouldn't enjoy it anyway. He wants to look at Chitose and wonder why he spends so much time around someone he barely even likes.

Love is not fun. It's torturous, watching his best friend and love destroy himself over someone who never deserved to know him. Everywhere Dewa looks now, he sees the disastrous effects of love, unrequited, scorned, doomed. He's part of their number, these luckless fools, and he can't escape.

I understand you now, he thinks, looking at Chitose, at Kusanagi, at Yata. I understand why you do this to yourself.

ØØØ

If Chitose is such a terrible friend, why doesn't Dewa leave?

He does. The real question is: why does he come back?

Chitose needs him. For no reason Dewa can discern, the idiot's attached himself to him, and he doesn't do well when Dewa's not around.

Have you ever seen someone destroy themselves? Most people haven't. It's unpleasant, messy, terrifying. You think, if only they did this or tried that or changed their way of thinking, they'd be okay again. Then you get mad when they don't get better on your schedule or at all. Not many people stick around.

Dewa's watched so many people leave out of Chitose's life. His only real male friends now are his Clansmen and his female friends...they're nonexistent. Unless you count Anna, which Dewa doesn't. Grown men aren't friends with little girls.

The truth is, Homra has become Chitose's support network. Not a great one- Bando and Yata give as much as they take- but one all the same. Chitose relies on them because they are what he has.

And yet Dewa hangs around. He's better than they are at managing Chitose's moods. He understands why Chitose is the way he is. It's information he secrets away, not just because he doesn't want to break Chitose's already damaged trust, but because he-

He doesn't want to be replaced.

Dewa's not the best, not at anything. He's better than average but he's not great or exceptional at anything. Except at understanding Chitose. Caring about him. It's a specialized art, one Dewa's become proficient at simply by hanging on.

It's not love.

No, it's definitely not love.

ØØØ

"Aren't you afraid we're going to destroy each other?" Dewa asks idly. They're sitting in a yakiniku restaurant. It's one of the few times they're out in public and alone. Dewa meant to enjoy the night, he did, but the sake's made his tongue loose.

"I leave the worrying to you," Chitose answers, watching Dewa turn the marinated beef over on the gridiron. The kimchi's already done, but the meat takes longer.

"You mean the thinking."

"You're so sweet to me, Dewa-kun."

"Shut up."

Chitose smiles.

ØØØ

Most of Homra makes a nuisance of themselves. Not Dewa. He actually helps out. Not with the bar, since Kusanagi-san is picky about who he lets tend it, but with other things, shadier things. Things most of the other Clansmen don't even know about. It's convenient for everyone that Kusanagi's sources remain hidden.

Dewa has just delivered a report and is stepping out when he notices the brown-haired woman gazing up at the sign.

He coughs to catch her attention.

"Oh, you again." Her eyes are wide with surprise; her tone somewhere between welcoming and resigned.

"Is this where he goes," she asks, "when he isn't at home?"

Dewa glances at Bar Homra. It doesn't look too seedy from the outside. It is still a bar.

"Occasionally."

He stands there awkwardly. It is almost certain she has no idea Homra isn't a regular band of delinquents. Most of Shizume only knows of Kings as half-whispered rumors, not living, breathing legends. The Clans that form around them are the second most obvious, yet least known facet of their daily existence.

Chitose's mother tilts her head and smiles wearily. Dewa always wondered whether Chitose got his energy from his father or if raising three sons alone took everything from her.

"Thank you," she says, "for taking care of my son."

Dewa makes to protest. She stops him.

"I tried to do right by my boys, you know? I never thought it'd be so hard, raising them by myself. Now Ryo's gone and Naoki's locked up. Yo doesn't tell me much about his life. He's into something dangerous, I'm almost certain."

"We both are."

She nods, as though it doesn't matter. He was half in love with her once.

"I know. I'm glad you're there with him. Whatever he gets into, you'll be there to get him out, won't you?"

Does she know his name? The answer to that question is suddenly incredibly important. Is she so desperate to have one child succeed that she's grateful for any help or does she actually know who he is?

"You're a good person."

She will always hold an allure for him. She will always be that quietly elegant woman. But he will never again question how such a kind person fell into this situation in life.

Chitose Masako is a terrible judge of character. Clearly, this is a family trait.

He will protect her son. That was never in question.

"I need to go."

"Would you like some daifuku? I brought it for Yo, but it seems he isn't here." She lifts the wrapped box clutched in her left hand.

Dewa doesn't want her food.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I really have to go."

ØØØ

He runs into her too often after that, in the supermarket, on the street, in places most people wouldn't expect him to be. At first he thinks she is following him. Then he wonders if that is a bad thing. After all, all she wants is to reconnect with her son.

"Chitose-san, may I help you with something?"

"Oh!" She looks flustered, though she smiles. "No, no, I'm quite alright. Go back to what you were doing."

"Chitose-san, I insist." He takes the basket she's holding in her arms. Inside are basic groceries: vegetables, soba noodles, and beer.

"Thank you, Demura."

"Dewa."

"Hmm?" She smells like fresh laundry.

"My name is Dewa."

"Dewa," she repeated, giving him an apologetic smile. "I went out to buy ingredients for dinner. It seems I've bought too much. Have you eaten yet?"

This is how Dewa finds himself sitting in Chitose's mother's kitchen, watching her make yakisoba and talk about her day. He doesn't want to be there exactly as much as he does; yet he hasn't reached the equilibrium of not-caring. It is a disconcertingly normal feeling.

"Here," she says, placing a stack of pictures in front of him. "I've been waiting to show these to someone for ages."

They are pictures of skinny, brunet children who have to be Chitose and his brothers. In one, they are chasing each other around a yard. In another, Chitose is crying, pointing at his brother, while Ryo crosses his arms and looks mad. They are brats, and they are adorable.

He tells her so. She laughs.

"That's how all little boys are. Then they grow up and break your heart." She lights a cigarette and takes a drag. Coughs and blows the smoke out. "You probably think I'm pathetic, wasting my time talking to you."

"No." Yes.

"The thing is, I don't know when any of them are coming back. I messed up. I know that. But I didn't expect life to turn out this way.

"I'm their mother. I want life to be better for them than it is for me. And then I look and I see that it's worse."

"Yo isn't doing that bad," Dewa says. "He's got a job as a host. He makes good money." He doesn't mention Homra. Chitose will have to tell her that on his own.

"That's good to know. Is he living with someone?" The look she gives him is pointed.

"He has his own apartment. The place isn't the best, but he says the rent is affordable." Chitose said no such thing. He never asks Dewa for help paying his rent, either. Between Chitose's myriad short-term relationships and the assurance that the only other person with a key is Dewa, it can be assumed that he is living alone. The place isn't particularly spacious. This kitchen is as large as the bedroom. It isn't a big kitchen.

There are things people want to hear, and I have a key to Yo's apartment that I never use because he might be doing tandem horizontal exercises at any given time is not one of them. Most likely, she is asking if he is fucking her son, which he is but not on any sort of regular or exclusive basis. If they approach that subject, the best Dewa can say is that Chitose came up clean on his latest STD test. Dewa knows this because he always takes him to get tested. Chitose claims it's a bonding experience.

"But you see him often?" The pointed look morphs into one of hopefulness.

"Almost every day."

How many half-truths can he feed her before she stops listening to him? Chitose's real life isn't the sort you discuss over a dinner table. His mother's isn't either.

"Yo loves you," Dewa says, keeping his eyes on the table. "I think he doesn't come to see you because he's afraid you'd be disappointed."

He expects her to say she wouldn't be. She doesn't.

"Is he in trouble?"

"Not really. There are some…things he needs to work out." He's got supernatural powers and the backing of one of the most powerful men in this city, and he can't function without me. He looks alright, but even my mother taught me not all scars are on the outside. He needs help but he's not going to get it because he won't.

"You'll help him, won't you?" She's ignorant, not naïve.

"I can try."

"Can I keep this one?" he asks, lifting up a picture.

"Of course."

Chitose's fourteen-year-old face smiles back at him, his arm looped over a friend's shoulders. There is dirt on his chin and a scratch on his cheek. He's wearing the same shirt he had on the first time they met.

ØØØ

The desperation is what gets to him the most. Chitose needs him, needs this, this poisonous thing they have between them, and Dewa won't deny him. The sex isn't seductive for him, not the way Chitose's emotions are. Desperation, need, pleasure, these follow Chitose everywhere but here, when the two of them are alone, tangled in sheets, they're most obvious.

At one point, when Chitose is sated and veering into sleep, he rests his head against Chitose's brow and breathes.

Chitose grabs the back of his neck, holding them together. Dewa's breath turns shaky and he wants to pull away. It's too much, too close to being something real. They're too messed up for real. They're-

Chitose's spinning circles on the back of his neck.

We can't be like that, Dewa wants to stay. We need to separate friendship from, from this. You're tangling everything up.

Dewa wants this. That's the worst part. He wants to be more for Chitose and erase all the damage Kaori did. He wants to give Chitose pleasure and wake up next to him every day. He wants to love him like normal people do. But they messed up. Chitose was damaged when they started this- that's why they started this- and now there's too much baggage to make everything right. Dewa's made too many mistakes that Chitose is too quick to forgive.

That doesn't change their friendship. Dewa's always tried to separate their friendship from this. Their friendship is nine years of school, street fights, and Homra. This is Kaori's poison, her thousand substitutes, and sweaty sheets. This is Dewa leaving when the poison's gone too deep and Chitose's halfway to losing himself. This is Dewa returning, knowing Chitose will be waiting because there's no one else.

He will protect Chitose with everything he has. Because Chitose is good and he cares, and that is rare indeed in this world.

He stays in the morning, for a little while.

I love you, he should say, but I don't love this.

He says nothing.

Which of them needs to change more? Does anyone know? Something's got to give, but it isn't going to be their relationship. They're stuck together, possibly for life.

Dewa's terrified their friendship is going to destroy them both.

ØØØ

"Where does Kusanagi-san get this information?"

Bando hits him lightly over the head, because he knows but he'll let Dewa get away with it since Shohei doesn't. Dewa smiles, not ashamed for all that he should be. Not too many of the other Clansmen treat Dewa this way, and he has to admit he likes it.

To be honest, Dewa likes Bando. Chitose doesn't and that's fine because Chitose is one of those passionate people with friendliness and hatred spilling out of their hearts in equal measure. Dewa doesn't have that, doesn't want that, but he does have an unusual affection for difficult people. Like Bando.

Someone else could probably expand on that and say Dewa seeks out difficult people in hopes that it'll counterbalance his own difficult nature. Or they might say he's just a terrible person, and he prefers to be around others like him. Dewa isn't the type to psychoanalyze himself too deeply. He knows what kind of answers he'll uncover if he does.

Shohei's found their proof.

There's something sinister in hiding weapons in crates of candy. The candy's good, though, at least the bar Dewa's chewing on, so that's a plus. Shohei pockets a few, which Dewa's perfectly alright with. No need for high morals when you're rifling through a gangster's stolen cargo.

A sound makes them all turn.

The traitor gives them a second to recognize him before they're on the ground.

Shohei's the first to get back up, letting out a heartfelt groan. A funny taste, like licking a battery, hovers in the back of Dewa's throat from Fushimi's Blue Aura blast. Asshole.

He shakes Bando's shoulder. He's face-down on the cement floor of the warehouse. Fushimi must have meant to stun them without a fight. The traitor's nowhere to be seen.

"We should go."

They're gone before the other Blues arrive.

If Dewa had to divide people into categories, one would be the people who don't hesitate to fight and another those who do. Homra mostly belongs to the former category; the Blues to the latter. It's obvious in their reluctance, their reliance on words over actions. Oh, there's one or two who don't fit the bill, just like there are pacifists in Homra, but the majority are right cowards.

Homra outnumbers the Blues, but they don't have the same structure or practice. Most have never fought in large groups or had to listen to anyone other than themselves. Kusanagi's directing from inside, the King's fighting the Blue King, and Kamamoto's got the field.

It's interesting, to say the least.

He looks at the Ashinaka students and he thinks, fuck you, you fucking rich kids. You go to the best school in the city, and you're so ignorant it's laughable. A man is dead, and you want to know why people are fighting. All your perfect chances are worth nothing.

All your perfect chances and one of you killed the best man any of us ever met.

He regrets not liking Totsuka very much when he was alive. Totsuka had a penetrating quality that made you uneasy if you had something to hide. Dewa always had something to hide.

He didn't cry at Totsuka's funeral, but he saw who did. Totsuka always knew what people really wanted. He saw through Bando when Bando tried to run from Shohei and their shared past.

What are you running from, Bando, they had all wondered. Someone actually likes you, Bando. All of you. Love. Bando had been running from the feelings he had felt and still feels for another boy-turned-man and only Totsuka had been able to see it.

Who was it who faced down an assassin because Chitose was too foolish and broken to remember a promise made to an equally broken woman? Who was it let a boy try to kill him because he saw the pain before an experienced animal rescuer could? Who ran, a hundred thousand times, from danger just so it would pursue him and not someone else? The answer was always Totsuka.

His murderer had laughed while Totsuka lay dying, so fuck these rich kids and their confusion. Fuck their fear and their resistance. Fuck them all. Servants packed these kids perfect little bentos filled with all sorts of delicious things, while Dewa had eaten rice and pickled vegetables. One of these kids had become a murderer and Dewa, he- he had come to wreak vengeance.

ØØØ

It's fine, it's fine. It'll all work out somehow.

It doesn't work out. A week after the King's death and the one holding together the best is Eric, and Dewa hates him all the more for it. Their King is gone; Homra dissolved. The people who should hold them together the best, Kusanagi-san and Yata, are falling apart. Kamamoto, at twenty-one, is responsible nearly full time for Anna-chan. The others try to help where they can but there aren't many of them these days and responsibility isn't what they're accustomed to. Everyone else is gone.

So Dewa leaves, too.

He wants time to himself. Chitose has gone back to picking fights. They aren't always for good reasons. Dewa fears that one day the Aura won't be enough to protect him.

The worry, the fear of an unknown future, is weighing on him. So he leaves, going to Yamanashi, even to Fujiyoshida. He stays in a hostel where no one knows him and pretends that meant something. In all, it is a trip of pretend: Dewa pretends he's a tourist; he pretends he actually wants to climb Mt. Fuji; he pretends he isn't numb inside from a grief he doesn't want to feel.

They had to break up sometime, he reasons when he ignores Chitose's messages. It's better this way, he thinks when he's been back three days and still hasn't answered. He'll latch onto someone else, Dewa reminds himself when Chitose is right there and Dewa looks through him.

It'll take some time to adjust, but then he'll be okay. They'll both be okay.