a/n

happy new year! wishing you all a renewing start to 2020 :)

with that said, enjoy chapter 8 of half-sight!

all my love,

krissy

♙

present day

hina ogawa

"SHE'S WHAT?"

We're tucked beneath a drooping tree in an amber-lit alley, all the tatami storefronts sleeping. Familiar wanted posters are scattered across one of the doors.

"I pulled Kotomi aside before you two left for Dotonbori," explains Ren. "If the police were going to chase us down...well." He smiles. "Might as well make the most of it, right?"

I recall his gaze on Kotomi. Calculating. I need to talk to you.

My mouth falls open. "But how..."

"I gave her a tracker and an earpiece," he goes on, tugging off his mask. "She has a friend in the press too. Reporters are crazy enough already, but it doesn't hurt to make sure they'll clog up the main streets, you know? It's hard to get anywhere now." The sound of a helicopter rumbles in the distant sky. "Hope it worked."

My mind flashes back to the knowing triumph on Nobu's face. "It did."

He looks to me. "Really?"

"There was a detective with me before the blackout happened. He thought he could see through her. Poor guy though he made a successful bribe." I squint my eyes, wincing at myself. "I thought she actually fell for it."

In the lantern light, his face lifts in another rare smile. "Good."

The helicopter's rumble loudens. Blades disturb the wind and ruffles the scrawny trees. We press ourselves into the shadows as a spotlight sweeps past us, grazing black-shingle rooftops on its way southward. Shouts and sirens ring out. I hear dogs barking.

"We need somewhere nearby to lay low for a while," he mutters. He glances my way. "Where's your place?"

I shoot him a half-amused look. "You're inviting yourself to my place?"

"You stayed in mine," he defends.

"Only because you kidnapped—"

"Kidnapped?" He narrows his eyes at me. "I'm sorry. Next time I'll let you bleed to death."

I glare at him. "I'm on the edge of Minami and Kita. It's too far."

He tilts his head with a disappointed exhale. Metal jangles against metal in the distance. Dog collars clinking. After witnessing the blind fury on Nobu's face, there must be search parties armed with search dogs, competing with reporters for control over the streets.

Voices become clear. "Move, please—you two, down that way!"

"Hai!."

"Riku! Come with me."

My voice drops to a whisper. "Where are we going to go?"

Ren leaves the shadows. "I might know a place." My throat goes dry as he races down an alley cloaked entirely in darkness. As if sensing it, he pauses. "Can you see?"

Not really. But already, footsteps are approaching in the distance.

I graze my fingertips along a stone wall and let it guide me down into the dark. "Just lead the way."

We wind up at a local izakaya in a narrow street two blocks down—the kanji across its bright screen doors is bold against the dark canvas, calling us in. The faint sizzle of seasoned fish touches my ears. My stomach growls.

Echoes of barks and shouts mix in the distance. Ren slides open the door without hesitation.

"There's a step," he murmurs helpfully.

Soft golden-yellow swims across my vision. The door slides shut behind us. Inside, I make out wooden shelves lined with fat and thin bottles. The souring smell of alcohol. A bar. Sharp edges cloaked in shadow—booths wrought in charcoal wood. Thick air, greasy in that aromatic, mouth-watering way.

Beneath my feet, I feel the shift of wooden panels.

A short, slouched figure appears at the end. Hobbles toward us with surprising speed. Baby blue apron, graying hair, bronzed skin over sagging cheeks, creased with age. I hear a gasp of horror. Then a stubborn voice that awakens the quiet air.

"Why do you look like that?"

He leans his head away from her hands. "Obaa-san—"

Obaa-san?

"You smell like my farm," she grumbles. Her fading brows are furrowed, and when her gaze slides to mine, her mouth forms an appalled O. "Who's—"

"I can't tell you much," says Ren quietly. "We just need a place to lay—"

"Lay low. You always need to lay low." She rips his hat off so abruptly dark hair explodes all over his forehead, then sucks in an unhappy breath. "Huh? What's with all the blood this time, you—"

"Just my ears from a few explo—"

"Just my ears? You're a funny boy," she mutters, then shuffles over to the screen doors and flicks off the house lights so only the back half of the izakaya is lit. "Since when did you become a policeman?"

"It's a costume, obaa-san."

"It's an ugly costume," she remarks matter-of-factly. "You should look more handsome if you're bringing a nice lady along."

I cough.

"It's not like that," Ren mutters, taking back his hat.

She shoots him a look, then pauses in front of me, peering up close enough for me to see the sunspots on her soft skin. "What's your name?"

I dip my head. "Hina Ogawa."

"Ah, Hina-chan. Stay away from him. He's very violent." Then she pats my shoulder and walks away. "You know where everything is," she calls. "Please wash up and stop stinking up my shop, yes?"

"Hai. Thank you," says Ren. He gives me a pointed nudge as he passes. "Stairs are this way."

The second floor is a wooden space with a small shrine, a low dining table, and mats of various faded colors. Amber light warms the cool air. There's a kitchen with a lot of off-white appliances—solid middle-class products I assume have an array of buttons for multiple useful purposes. It smells of faint sweat masked with the scent of bitter tea.

Ren shrugs off his jacket, then fishes through the inner pocket for a dark bundle. When he hands it to me, I feel jacket padding and cotton, flattened into a neat stack.

"Fresh disguise for you," he says.

"Was that your grandmother?" I ask him. "Or just—"

"Just someone who took good care of me," he finishes, touching his forehead. Now that he's this close, I see a smear of blackish-red across his skin. He rubs his fingers together, no doubt aware of the dried blood. "I've known her for...ten years? About a decade now."

Curiosity gets the best of me. "How?"

To my surprise, he smiles, as if answering brings good memories. "Well, for one, this izakaya used to be a pharmacy," he says, tugging off his gloves. "I came in a lot after brawls."

"Brawls?"

"Mm. That's the life of an orphan fugitive, remember? I came in all bloody and messed up, and she was so nice. Free bandages, free painkillers, free anything. And when she found out I was homeless, she let me sleep up here. By that heater in the kitchen," he adds, pointing. "I tried paying her back, but she wouldn't take it. To this day she only takes food."

"Wow." How nice it would have been, to have someone like that. My eyes drink in the walls. "Why'd she turn it into an izakaya?"

"Her husband wanted to open one."

"Ah," I say. "Your oji-san?"

"Mhm. He liked having that kind of social air below them. You know, good atmosphere. Good fortune, good money. He passed away a while back."

"Red Lung?"

"No. Heart problems." Ren pauses. "He went in his sleep."

The simplicity of his voice startles me. I hear sadness, but not in the way I know it. The sadness I know is terror-struck and twisted, angry and anguished, screaming for vengeance. This is infinitely different.

This is peaceful, quiet, and calm.

Ren turns away but stops, a hint of amusement touching his voice. "You know, considering the amount of times you vouched for new contacts, you're doing pretty well."

My brows rise. "Am I?"

"Hm, I don't know." His voice adopts teasing affection. "Surviving angry crowds, a televised arrest, and a prison break sure as hell isn't doing shabby."

The words are spoken warmly. I expect to feel a sense of accomplishment. This is what you wanted, Hina. Fearlessness.

But all I feel is emptiness. Because suddenly, for the first time in a long time, I think of Lin. In fact, she's all I can think of. I remember how easy the world was when her help was at my fingertips. Each command, executed perfectly. Each angle, sharpened as if I was born without disease. Each detail, each shape, each glint of an eye made crystal clear.

I remember the way she would awaken at the touch of my temple. Good morning, Hina. Smooth lines would blossom forward, outline this frosted-glass blur, and separate color until everything was picture-perfect. I almost wish I never had her. Because without her I would have never tasted how good perfect vision could be.

Hina, that voice sighs. You are so lonely.

"Kotomi helped," my mouth says.

A beat of silence passes. I wonder what Ren is thinking. But, like all things lately, I can't quite make it out.

"Well," he answers, "contacts or not, it worked out in the end. Right?"

He's right. Still, the sadness in my chest rises with such force I have to walk away, unable to fight the sting of tears.

"Guess a little faith goes a long way," I say.

♙

HALF AN HOUR later, when Ren is in the shower, a phone buzzes.

I'm sifting through Nobu's folder when it happens. There's not much of a show in there—for all Nobu's talk, it's clear the police don't know much. Besides snapshots of CCTV footage and notes from witnesses at train stations, the only useful thing they've got is a whole transcript of their interview with Goro and Touma, which I've just started to skim.

The buzzing phone comes from Ren's jacket, which is still discarded by the door. As I feel through the folds for it, footsteps approach from the nearby stairs. Obaa-san pokes her head in.

"Come down when Ren's out of the shower," she says, eyes wide with anticipation. "I made food."

I smile. "Hai. Thank you."

"Mhm."

She disappears. There. What I pull out of the jacket pocket isn't exactly your stereotypical cell-phone—more like a narrow glass slab. There's no caller ID, not even a number.

Just a question mark.

I frown. The shower water is still running—Ren's still busy. Unable to stop myself, I answer.

"Hello?"

There's a squeak of furniture, as if someone has jolted upright. "Hey. What's going on? Where are you?"

My heart stops. "Bohai?"

The speaker on the other end pauses. "Hina?"

I jump to my feet. A mix of relief and excitement and guilt crashes through my chest. "You're awake! How do you feel?"

"Shitty." A shallow cough leaves him—even the simple sound terrifies me. Is this how Ren feels? "I'm watching the news because I couldn't reach anyone. They said Ren just broke you out of prison. And Kotomi's in jail, and now the police are hunting all over Minami District for you. You really just turned the whole city into a big bounty hunt, huh?"

"Looks like it." In the distance, shower water squeaks off. "Ren's in the shower right now," I add, "but we're laying low at an izakaya. You know where his obaa-san lives?"

"Oh, you mean Machi-san?"

"Is that her name? The one who used to own the pharmacy."

"Yeah, I know where that is." Another shallow cough, then a shuffle of footsteps, the rustle of a jacket. "I think I can get there."

"No," I cut in, remembering the wanted signs plastered across every wall. "We can find a way to—"

"Don't even. I got it, okay? I can come. Now where did Ren put the meds...oh, right here. Okay. I'll be there in twenty. Or—"

I wince. "Bohai, they'll arrest you."

"Hina," he insists spiritedly, "I've worked underground my whole life. I can do this, okay?"

It's hard to breathe. For a second, I wish again with all my heart I'd done anything but jeopardize Ren's shot at the medicine shipment. By now, Bohai could have had his cure.

"Are you really okay?"

He releases a pitiful sigh. "You sound just like Ren. Give me like an hour."

"Bohai—"

"Okay, see you soon!" The line clicks off before I can warn him again.

I've just tucked away the phone when Ren steps out, dressed in dark sweats with skin dewy from steam, a hand ruffling his hair with a towel. I feel the weight of his puzzled gaze. "Who were you talking to?"

"Bohai." An unwarranted smile lifts my face. "He's awake."

His eyes nearly pop out of his face. "He called?"

"Yeah. I explained the situation, and he—" I pause. He's on his way. But after everything that's happened, I don't want to burden him with more worrying news. "He's feeling a lot better."

He studies me for a minute. Then he nods, relief on his face, and slings the towel around his neck. "I have a weird question."

I narrow my eyes. "What?"

"Did you notice anything weird outside the hallway window when you were going to the shower?"

I frown. Granted, the only thing I could see outside the hallway window was the fuzzy glow of lantern light. "No."

"You sure?"

"Mm." I watch as he glances down the hall, suddenly uncertain. "Why?"

He pauses, then shakes his head, taking a seat on the floor to sift through Nobu's folder.

"Just stay inside and stay away from windows," he tells me, eyes meeting mine. "Someone's lurking outside the izakaya."