CHAPTER SIX,
episode three

When they returned, it was well into the evening of the next day. To her dismay, Rika wasn't the only one to have been injured during the game—Karube had come back with a fresh gash across his stomach, his shirt stained with blood. But, despite the pain in his features, he waved off any concern that'd been sent his way.

"Just a scratch," he had said, though the strain in his voice gave him away.

His bravado disappeared the moment his eyes landed on Rika. Face smeared with blood, hair matted to her forehead, her body curled into itself like a wilted dandelion. She told him she was fine, he retorted that she looked like shit.

Arisu and Karube didn't give her a choice in the matter of being carried back. Before she could even think to argue with them, they had hoisted her between them, her arms slung over their shoulders. Each step had jostled her aching body, and though she protested, neither of the boys paid her any mind.

By the time they made it into the mall and up the escalators, Chota was waiting for them, balancing precariously on a single crutch. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of Rika, her pale skin stained with dried blood, bruises blooming along her arms like grotesque flowers. Thankfully, they couldn't see the injuries that laid beneath her clothes. But she could feel them.

"You're alive!" Chota exclaimed, voice cracking as he hobbled forward. He dropped the crutch entirely, ignoring the sharp protest from his own injured leg as he threw his arms around the three of them in a trembling embrace. Rika winced at the contact but didn't pull away, she didn't have the energy to fight him off, nor did she have the heart.

After the reunion, Rika had insisted on being left alone, brushing off their protests with a sharp glare and a pointed jab about how she didn't need a babysitter. Reluctantly, they relented, but she could feel their eyes on her when she limped into one of the many bathrooms scattered throughout the mall.

The door clicked shut behind her, sealing her in a pocket of quiet. Rika placed the first aid kit onto the counter, one her brother had shoved towards her. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the latch, guided by a lantern that sat precariously on the edge of the sink, its battery-powered glow causing flickering shadows across the walls.

Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror, a ghostly image that hardly felt like her own. Blood streaked her forehead, the deep gash above her right brow crusted and swollen. Dark circles framed her eyes and her lips were pale. She peeled the shirt she wore off her, some of the fabric sticking to her from blood that was both hers and the taggers.

Chota's reaction suddenly made a lot more sense.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Rika reached for the faucet, turning the cold knobs with shaky hands. The pipes groaned in protest before finally sputtering to life, a stream of water trickling out. She cupped her hands beneath the flow, letting the cold liquid pool in her palms before splashing it onto her face.

The sting of water meeting her wounds made her grunt through clenched teeth, her fingers instinctively reaching up to poke at the gash on her forehead. The touch sent a sharp jolt of pain through her skull, and she quickly pulled back, gripping the edge of the sink for support.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath, glaring at her reflection. "Pull it together."

The words felt like nothing but a weak attempt to steel herself against the pain. She grabbed a wad of gauze from the first aid kit, wetting it under the tap before pressing it to her forehead. The sharp sting made her knees buckle, but she held firm, gritting her teeth as she rubbed at the dried blood.

The door creaked open behind her, and Rika glanced through the mirror, her eyes heavy and tired.

"Hey," It was Arisu's voice that broke the silence. He stood in the crack of the doorway, his expression a painting of worry. Of course he came to check up, she thought. Karube probably sent him. But when Arisu noticed that she stood in nothing but a sports bra and blood stained white shorts, he awkwardly looked to the floor. Then he steeled himself, forcing his eyes back to her face.

Her first instinct was to snap at him, to tell him to leave her alone. But the words died in her throat as she saw the look in his eyes—filled with concern.

"I'm fine," she said instead, continuing the act of rubbing the blood away from her skin.

Arisu stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He didn't say anything as he approached, his eyes scanning her shaking form. He reached for her, plucking the gauze from her hand with gentle fingers.

"You're not fine," he said, "Let someone help you."

Rika hesitated, her pride wavering with the exhaustion that weighed her down. After a moment, she sighed, lowering her gaze. "Fine. Just... be quick about it."

Arisu smiled faintly, grabbing a fresh piece of gauze and soaking it with antiseptic. "This might sting," he warned.

"Thanks for the warning," she replied distastefully, bracing herself for the impact.

It took Arisu a few minutes to clean the wound, Rika remained silent, her hand gripping the edge of the counter with white-knuckled tension as he dabbed antiseptic around the gash. The sting made her jaw clench, but she didn't make a sound. Once the area was clean, Arisu grabbed one of the larger bandages from the first aid kit, carefully smoothing it over the wound after applying ointment. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as though afraid of causing her more pain.

"Done," he said quietly, stepping back to examine his work.

Rika relaxed her grip on the counter, letting out a small sigh of relief. "Thanks," she muttered in return.

Arisu wasn't finished. To her surprise, he grabbed a handful of paper towels from a nearby dispenser, soaking them under the running water. She raised an eyebrow as he nudged her aside slightly, wringing out the excess water and turning toward her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, voice laced with suspicion.

"Cleaning the blood." he replied simply.

Before she could protest, he began wiping the dried blood from the sides of her face. His touch was careful, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked. The coolness of the damp towels against her skin was a change from the warmth of his fingers, which gently tilted her head to the side for a better angle.

"I could've done that," Rika mumbled quietly.

Arisu didn't stop, his gaze flickering to meet hers in the mirror. He glared, actually glared. But then it faded as quick as it had come as he returned to his work.

She huffed, turning her attention back to her reflection. It was strange, being cared for like this. Foreign. For as long as she could remember, she'd been the one cleaning wounds, mostly Karubes'. To have someone else step in, to let herself be seen vulnerable like this, it felt like a disadvantage—a small defeat that struck her in the chest.

But she didn't hate it.

Arisu's focus shifted down, his eyes trailing over the bruises littering her arms and shoulders. They resembled finger prints, the aftermath of her brawl with the tagger. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder as he inspected the marks, a small frown curling around his lips.

"Rika..." he murmured, voice thick with concern.

"I'm fine," she cut in quickly, her tone sharper than intended.

His frown deepened, but he didn't argue. Instead, his gaze moved lower, catching sight of the deep purple and blue bruising spreading across her ribs. She didn't think much of it, after all, a gun to the ribs would do that to anybody. He gently turned her around, his hand placed against her right shoulder.

In the mirror, Rika caught a glimpse of her back and let out a sigh. It definitely wasn't pretty. Black and blue bruises spanned her spine, angry blotches that spoke to the brutal blows she'd endured from the tagger to give Arisu time.

He remained quiet for a moment, his fingers lightly ghosting over her spine as if debating whether to touch. When he finally decided to, the unexpected sensation of his cold skin made her flinch, and she inhaled sharply, her body stiffening.

"Oh, sorry!" Arisu immediately pulled his hand back, his eyes wide with guilt. "Did that hurt?"

"No," Rika said quickly, voice steady despite the jolt that had run through her. She wasn't sure why she'd reacted like that—it wasn't pain, not really. "It's fine."

He didn't seem convinced but nodded, his worry etched into his expression. When Rika raised a hand to rub at her tired eyes, he was quick to stop her, his fingers wrapping gently around her wrist.

"Don't," he said firmly, his gaze dropping to her hands.

Rika blinked, then followed his line of sight. Dried blood stained her fingers, smudges of crimson marking the pale skin. She hadn't even noticed, too caught up in the mix of exhaustion and pain to care.

"Oh," she muttered, the sight bringing a flood of memories crashing back—the fight, her knife sinking into the woman over and over again. Her stomach churned, a dull ache settling in her chest.

Guilt was never a good feeling.

Arisu sighed, his grip on her wrist steady but gentle. Without a word, he turned her toward the sink, his hands enveloping hers as he placed them into the water. The cool flow washed over her fingers, the red swirling down the drain in lazy spirals.

His arm was wedged between hers, rubbing the blood from her skin. "You don't have to do this alone, you know," he said quietly, his voice nothing but a whisper.

Rika looked up, her gaze meeting him in the mirror. She wanted to argue, to remind him that she always did things alone—that she had to. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, the tension in her shoulders loosened as she whispered a small, "Well... Thank you."

Arisu shook his head almost immediately, his face hardening as he stared down at their hands beneath the running water. "Don't thank me," he muttered, "It's my fault. I should've pulled you into the room. We could've cleared the game sooner."

She let out a laugh, an unexpected sound that made his head snap up. He looked at her, his wide eyes searching her face, trying to figure out if she was serious.

Once the chuckle faded, Rika tilted her head slightly, "The tagger would've busted through the door with a gun aimed at both of us." She paused, swallowing her reluctance before continuing. "It was my choice to stay in the room. My choice to fight. It's not your fault. It's not even mine. So stop blaming yourself. Worrying won't change anything."

Arisu looked away, his jaw tightening as he mulled over her words. For a moment, only the sound of the water flowing down the drain filled the space between them. Finally, he let out a breath, shoulders slumping as he gently pulled their hands out of the water and released his hold on her.

Rika stepped back, her movements slower now, the ache in her body keeping her reminded of the fight. She passed him without a word, retrieving a few paper towels from the dispenser. After handing two to him, she used the rest to dry her own hands.

Arisu copied her, his gaze flickering toward her every so often as if he wanted to say more. After a minute, he spoke, "Thank you."

Rika glanced at him curiously.

"You gave me time to come up with a plan," he added, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

She shrugged in response, ignoring the protest of her bruised ribs and spine as she moved to close the first aid kit. "That's what I'm here for," she replied with a small smile that nearly went unnoticed.

Tucking the kit under her arm, she made her way toward the door, nudging it open with the toe of her bloodstained Vans. She paused in the exit, glancing back at him and nudging her head toward the hall. "You coming?"

Arisu blinked, momentarily forgetting where they were. Then he quickly nodded, turning the electrical lantern on the counter off and following her out.

When they reached the end of the hall, Rika wasted no time in waving him off. "I'm going to find a change of clothes," she spoke, leaving no room for argument before disappearing into the depths of the mall.

As soon as she was out of sight, Rika let out a heavy breath, her shoulders slumping as her mask crumbled. Her face twisted in discomfort as she pressed a hand against her bruised ribs, fingers trembling slightly.

Jesus, she thought, how much worse can this get? It was hard to hide how much everything hurt. But, she figured she'd done a good enough job. Arisu's worried expression had softened before she left, and that was enough to keep her pride intact.

Rika turned into one of the countless clothing stores, the darkness within pierced only by distant light of the sun. She placed the first aid kit down on the counter with a soft thud, opening it with her shaking hands.

Retrieving a roll of gauze and burn ointment, she lowered herself onto the floor, setting to work on the bloodstained bandages wrapped around her calves. She carefully unwound them, wincing as the fabric peeled away from tender, blistered skin. Some of the blisters had popped during her... exertion. It left raw patches behind, but compared to everything else, this was nothing. Bearable, at best.

When she finished, Rika pressed the fresh gauze into place, securing it before pulling herself to her feet. The motion sent a sharp, stinging pain shooting through her ribs and spine, biting down on her bottom lip to suppress the groan threatening to slip out.

Her head throbbed in waves, the gash on her forehead already beginning to annoy her. If she had her bag on her right now, she'd be downing two pain pills at once. Nevertheless, Arisu had taken it off her hands before they even started walking back to the mall.

Instead, she began sifting through the racks of clothing, eventually settling on a pair of black sweatpants and a matching tank top. She slipped into the shadows of the store to change, her movements careful as she removed her blood-stained shorts.

Her Vans, once white, were beyond saving, the fabric stiff with dried crimson. With a quiet sigh, she kicked them into the corner along with her ruined shorts. She then slipped into the fresh clothes, finding a pack of socks hanging on a display case and tearing the plastic to tug a new set over her feet.

Luckily enough for her, she was in a Nike store, which meant the back held shelves stacked with plenty shoes to choose from. She made her way toward the side door, intent on picking out a new pair. But she froze mid-step when she caught the sight of movement from the corner of her eyes.

A shadow peeked into the store's entrance, and Rika instinctively tensed, but the tension melted as soon as she recognized the figure. Karube.

His gaze swept the space and the moment his eyes landed on her, a wave of relief washed over him. He stood with one hand braced over the wound at his side, fingers marred with dried blood like hers had been.

Rika frowned, instincts kicking in as she abandoned the idea of shoes and moved towards the first aid kit instead. "I think I can fit you into my schedule," she said lightly, attempting a joke as she retrieved another roll of gauze. She wasn't looking to be lectured.

Karube limped toward the counter, leaning against it with a tired huff. His eyes scanned her face, lingering on the freshly bandaged gash on her forehead before dropping to the bruises on her arms. He shook his head. "I thought I taught you how to block."

She rolled her eyes, already tearing a strip of gauze. "Hard to block when someone's slamming a gun into you." She gestured for him to lift his shirt. "But if it makes you feel any better, every time they hit me, the knife you gave me copied."

Karube let out a chuckle that quickly turned into a wince from the wound on his side. "It does."

He pulled up his shirt to reveal a deep gash running across his ribs. Rika's brow furrowed as she leaned in to inspect it. The edges were jagged and inflamed, the skin around it already starting to bruise.

"What's this from?" she asked, dousing a piece of gauze with antiseptic.

"Machete," he answered, gritting his teeth as she pressed the gauze against the wound. "I think he was aiming for my heart but his aim was really off."

Rika snorted softly, gently continuing to clean the cut. "You're welcome for that."

Karube raised a brow, glancing down at her. "What, you made him aim bad?"

She nodded in confirmation. "When I split up from you guys, I managed to pepper spray him. Messed him up enough to throw his aim off. Oh, and I threw his submachine gun over the balcony. Straight into the parking lot."

Karube's chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Why didn't you take the damn gun?"

Rika sighed in disappointment aimed towards herself. "I had the same thought. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly thinking clearly. Turns out pepper spraying someone in a tiny, enclosed space isn't the smartest idea."

He laughed again, the sound cut short by another wince as she began wrapping the gauze around his torso. "Classic Rika," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Yeah, yeah," she replied, securing the bandage before stepping back. "Now try not to go getting stabbed again, okay?"

"No promises," he retorted, pulling his shirt back down as she packed up the first aid kit.

Rika watched him for a moment, her frown softening into a small smile. No matter how much they bickered, Karube had always been her baby brother. Despite their sometimes constant arguments, she loved the fool. He was her best-friend, and if she wasn't counting his own friends, her only friend.

She was never one for connections. Throughout her life, Rika had always preferred to stay alone, never even entertaining the idea of relationships or anything remotely sentimental. It felt safer that way—cleaner. Connections meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant pain. She learned that lesson through their parents and their shattered relationship.

Karube, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. He was reckless with his heart, throwing himself into relationships with the same pace he approached everything else in life. Hell, he had even bought a ring for the latest woman who had captured his heart. His boss's wife, no less. Still, his unwavering optimism about friendship and loyalty to those he cherished was one of the few things that balanced out her own cynicism.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Karube's voice cut through the air. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, squinting at her with suspicion.

Before she could answer, he reached out to smack her playfully on the head—his go-to gesture whenever he caught her in one of her rare moments. But his hand stopped mid-air, his expression faltering as he remembered the fresh bandages on her forehead. Instead, he dropped his hand to his side.

"It's weird," he continued, tilting his head slightly. "You never look like that."

Rika scrunched up her face, quickly masking whatever expression she'd been wearing. "Like what?" she asked, playing idiocy as she turned her attention back to the first aid kit, snapping it shut.

"Like you're about to say something nice," Karube teased, his grin returning.

She sighed heavily, glancing down at the first aid kit in her hands. Her fingers tightened around its edges as she debated whether to speak. The words felt foreign—heavy—on her tongue, but she forced them out anyway. "I'm just..." She hesitated, "I'm really glad you're okay. That you made it out alright. I was... worried about you. You're my baby brother, after all."

The admission hung in the air for a moment, and when Rika glanced up, Karube's eyebrows had shot up in surprise.

"Wait—" He looked utterly delighted, his lips twitching as if he were about to burst into laughter. "Are you actually being—"

"Don't." Rika's glare cut him off mid-sentence. Her eyes narrowed, "Don't let it get to your head or anything."

Karube's grin only widened as he watched her glance down at her sock-clad feet, clearly uncomfortable with the vulnerability she'd just shown. Despite the hug from their first game (which was quite literally a life or death situation), it wasn't like her at all. But maybe that's what made the moment mean more.

Without a word, he took a step forward, his face softening as he reached out to wrap his arms around her.

Rika stiffened at the sudden hug, her arms frozen at her sides as she let out a huff. "Really?" she muttered in protest.

Karube didn't answer, pulling her closer, mindful of her injuries. His chin rested lightly on the top of her head, "I'm glad you're okay, too," he said quietly.

For Karube, soft moments like this didn't come often. Yes, he loved easily. But he had the tendency to mask that love with anger—never the type to let himself seem too serious about things. But now, his voice was barely above a whisper, and the sincerity in his tone made Rika's heart ache.

She hesitated for a second longer before her arms finally moved, wrapping loosely around him. She avoided the bandaged wound she'd just treated, her movements gentle. This week had been full of moments like this—too many, if she was being honest. Between Karube, Arisu, and Chota, it seemed everyone suddenly had an endless supply of hugs to give.

Rika couldn't remember the last time she'd been hugged so much. Or at all, really.

She allowed herself to relax after some mental convincing, leaning into the warmth of her brother's embrace. His grip was firm but comforting, a reminder that despite everything they'd been through, they were still here.

For a minute—just a minute—she let herself stay like that.

It didn't take long for Rika to find a pair of sneakers that fit, though every step back to the furniture store sent an ache through her body. By the time she trudged in, the scene she stumbled upon was enough to make her raise a brow. Her bag, which she'd carefully packed with snacks and supplies, was now sprawled open atop the table, its contents scattered in the hands of her so-called allies.

Rika didn't even have the energy to joke about it out loud. Instead, she lowered herself onto the couch beside Karube with a sigh, careful not to push against her injuries. The cushions sank under her weight, her sore back sinking into the comfortable space.

Apparently, during the game, Karube had joined up with the man in the tank top that she spotted at the very beginning. They fought the first tagger off together, though it cost them the life of the younger guy with a matching bracelet. Her brother said that the man just... let him die. A sacrifice, maybe. But to her, it seemed like more than that. After all, they pretended to be good enough allies in the lobby of the complex.

When the fight was over and the game won, Karube found a radio on the dead body of the younger man. The voice on the other end told him to go to, 'the Beach', whatever that meant. It interested her brother enough to convince him of the idea, her eyes spotting said radio perched against the table as Karube talked.

He became very adamant about it. He was determined to get there, therefore, she was as well.

"If we go to the Beach, we might be able to discover something," Karube said, scooting to give her more room.

Rika's attention shifted to Shibuki, who sat on the far end of the couch. She was lazily eating a pack of candy pilfered from Rika's bag. "Like where all the people who disappeared went?" She asked, popping a candy into her mouth as she spoke.

Karube nodded. "Maybe everyone else is there."

Across the room, Arisu stood with his hands on his hips, looking deep in thought. "The closest beaches to us are in Shonan, Izu, and Ito, right?" he asked, finally breaking his silence.

"They're so far," Chota groaned from his spot on the display daybed. He looked pale and exhausted, his hands pressed against his knees. The burns on his leg hadn't fully healed, and Rika could see the strain painted across his face.

"We can get there," Karube said confidently, picking up the radio to fiddle with it. "It's just a matter of time."

Rika inched forward, her fingertips brushing against her bag on the table to tug it towards her. Once it was close enough, she heaved it up into her lap despite the ache in her body and retrieved the bottle of pain pills. It swam in the bottom with various other items, her shaking hand hastily unscrewing the lid to grab one.

Before she could reach for a water bottle to wash the pill down, Arisu was already handing her one. She blinked, caught off guard by the small gesture, but took it with a nod. Cracking the seal, she tossed the pill into her mouth and swallowed it down with a swig.

"So, what should we do?" Arisu asked, leaning back in his chair. "Should we try going?"

Karube didn't hesitate. "My vote is that, for now, we trust whoever this is," he said, holding up the radio.

Rika's brows furrowed as a thought struck her. "Maybe that's why those guys were wearing those matching bracelets," she said, tapping her chin with the water bottle. "The one with the white jacket had one too. I bet they all came from this Beach."

Arisu raised his brows, clearly having noticed the same detail, but before he could respond, Shibuki's voice cut in.

"And how is Chota supposed to go? Our Visas..." She paused, exhaling sharply. "They expire today."

Right. Rika had nearly forgotten. She, Arisu, and Karube had earned five days to theirs from last nights game, but Shibuki and Chota weren't as lucky. Her fingers itched for a cigarette—anything to dull the anxiety creeping in—but she shoved the urge down, like she had for the past three days.

"Then we'll have to win today's game and extend your Visas," Karube said firmly. He glanced at Rika, his expression softening. "You'll stay here and rest. Sound good?"

The statement instantly made Rika sit sat up straighter, ignoring the sting of pain shooting through her body. "What?" she questioned. "No, it doesn't 'sound good'. You're injured too," she pointed out, gesturing to his bandaged stomach.

Karube shrugged off her concern. "Not as bad as you," he argued. "We'll win, come back, and then we'll look for the Beach tomorrow."

Rika clenched her jaw, her mind racing. She knew Karube was a grown man, capable of making his own choices. Still, the last thing she wanted was to sit back all snug in a mall while they all risked their lives for more days to live. The mere thought was killing her. She was terrified of the idea that it would kill him.

"I'm not staying here," she said firmly, cutting off whatever argument he was about to make. "If you're going, I'm going. If you'd rather me sit out the game, fine. I will. But I'm not sitting here waiting to see if you come back alive or not. I'll wait outside the game."

Her attempt at a compromise caused Karube's expression to soften, the fight draining from his posture. He let out a deep breath. "Fine," he relented. "You can wait for us there."

Relief washed over her, but it was a fleeting feeling these days.

With that said and done, her brother nodded, turning his attention back to the radio. "After that, we'll go to the Beach. No matter what. Whatever it takes. We have to believe there's hope."

When the sun began its slumber for the night, they left the safety of the mall. Game arenas had flickered to life, their harsh lights cutting through the darkness of the dead city. From her earlier vantage point at the top of the mall, Rika had counted at least eight arenas scattered across the cityscape, shining like beacons in the void. They were not comforting beacons.

Karube had delayed them, insisting he needed to retrieve something important. Rika's irritation at his recklessness coursed beneath her worry as they waited. He had barely made it back in time, the breathless in his return smothering her desire to scold him. Without wasting another moment, they set off toward the closest arena she had spotted from her earlier perch.

Their destination: the Botanical Garden.

The journey through the abandoned streets was quiet, save for the faint hum of the arena's lights ahead. Shadows danced along the sidewalks, the beams from the arena casting shapes that flickered and stretched through glass as if alive. The silence wasn't comforting—it was absolutely suffocating.

As they approached the threshold of the game, Rika spotted the faint red lines of the sensor that dared them to cross, marking the barrier between safety and life-threatening danger. She slowed her steps, her chest tightening. She had to keep reminding herself that she wasn't stepping into that fire with them.

They stopped just short of the line, the air around them feeling heavier than ever. Rika stood between Karube and Chota, her hands hovering for a moment before she placed them gently on their shoulders. Her fingers curled into a soft squeeze, like she was trying to anchor them to her. It wouldn't work. She knew that.

Rika wasn't good at goodbyes, she never was. She wasn't even good at being vulnerable. But something inside her forced her to speak. "Okay..." she breathed, her voice just loud enough to break the silence. "Come back, okay?"

Karube glanced down at her, his lips pressing into a tight-lipped smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He reached up to grasp her hand from his shoulder, squeezing it lightly before shifting.

In a single fluid motion, he tugged the threaded bracelet from his wrist and slipped it onto hers.

Rika blinked, confused by the sudden movement. She lifted her wrist to inspect the frayed bracelet, its threads faded but sturdy, and recognition struck her immediately. It was the one they had made together all those years ago, sewn from a cheap kit she'd gotten for her eleventh birthday. Karube was ten at the time.

Her brows furrowed as she stared up at him. "Wait... is this what you went to find?"

Karube shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. "Maybe. Take it as a promise," he said simply, releasing her hand.

Her throat tightened at his words. "Karube—"

"Just try to rest while you're out here," he interrupted, brushing her hair with a playful ruffle. "You need to."

She wanted to argue, to tell him that rest was impossible when the people she cared about most were risking their lives inside that arena. But the stubborn look tied to his face left no space for it. She sighed instead, giving in with a soft huff.

"Fine. I'll try," she said, a sweet lie that would hopefully put his worries to rest.

Karube's smile softened. With a nod, he stepped over the threshold, pausing to glance back at her one last time.

Rika's gaze shifted to the others. Chota met her eyes with a small, nervous wave, holding onto his crutch with the other hand. Shibuki, as always, said nothing to her. She walked ahead, her figure cutting through the entrance until she disappeared.

"Good luck, you guys," Rika called after them, "And don't do anything stupid." Her eyes locked onto Karube's, narrowing as if to say, 'Especially you,'.

He chuckled faintly, shaking his head at her message before turning fully to the arena. Arisu lingered a moment longer, raising a hand in an awkward wave. Then, with a deep breath, he followed the others into the entrance.

And just like that, she was alone.

Rika stood frozen for a moment, her eyes glued to the entrance as their figures disappeared deeper into the building until they were out of view. She swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her sudden solitude settle over her. Only when she realized she was holding her breath did she let it out in a shaky exhale.

Now... to wait.

Turning on her heel, Rika made her way toward a line of benches positioned against the glass walls of the Botanical Garden's exterior. The building's design barely offered a view of the arena, most of it covered and hidden by green leaves and tall trees. But, it was enough.

She chose a spot by the windows, setting her bag down on the end of the bench before lowering herself onto the wooden seat. Her body protested every movement, the bruises on her ribs and back making even the simplest adjustments painful. Still, she pushed through it. The painkiller eased as much of it as it could, but her growing anxiety only made things worse.

It didn't take long before a lit cigarette found its way between Rika's trembling fingers. She placed it between her lips, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in her lungs as if it could somehow block the emptiness gnawing away at her. The muffled shouts from within the arena barely registered in her mind, but her thoughts raced regardless, picturing one horrifying possibility after another.

No one else had entered the arena after them, and the voices were too distorted to make out what was being said. That should have been a relief, but the silence in between those bursts of noise only made the dread in her chest swell.

Rika had shifted on the bench, her body curling in on itself. One arm was thrown over the backrest, her knees tucked tightly to her chest. Her eyes fixated on the faint shadows flitting through the dense greenery behind the glass walls, but it was too thick to tell who was moving. Occasionally, a shape darted past, human but indistinct, like ghosts haunting the garden.

She took another long drag from her cigarette, savoring the burn in her lungs, the fleeting sensation of control it gave her. When the embers burned down to the filter, she flicked it toward the pavement, watching the faint arc it made before it disappeared. Her hand fell to her lap, shaking slightly as she looked down at the bracelet on her wrist.

The old threads were soft against her fingers as she twisted and turned the bracelet, tugging gently at the frayed edges. It should have been comforting, this small, tangible piece of her brother. But it wasn't. The knot in her chest only grew tighter with every second that passed.

She rubbed her palms over her eyes, pressing hard in futile attempts to think of something else. Pain flared where her hand brushed the bandaged gash on her forehead, but she ignored it. Physical pain was a welcome distraction compared to the wait.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but she guessed that it was longer than twelve minutes.

Eventually, the need to do something overcame her.
Rika rose to her feet and paced along the glass walls, her fingers trailing the cool surface. She walked slowly at first, her eyes scanning the garden for any sign of the group. The glare from the parking lot lights made it nearly impossible to see clearly, but then—there.

It was her brother, his figure sitting still against a railing as he smoked a cigarette.

Her heart lurched in her chest, the interior too dark to notice the expression across his face. He was alone, that much she could tell. Rika leaned in closer against the glass, placing her hand above her brows to cover the glare from the lights behind her. She squinted, barely noticing the collar around his neck, his shoulders slumped with what looked like... acceptance?

It was nearly identical to the one the tagger had on, her stomach twisting uneasily at the resemblance. Her usual composed demeanor had vanished completely, pounding her hand against the glass in a futile attempt to get his attention. "Karube!" When her voice tore from her throat, she couldn't even recognize the sound.

If he heard her... he didn't turn his head. But she knew he did, simply by the flinch of his body amongst the shadows.

"Daikichi, look at me!" It was desperation now. Pure desperation pouring from her mouth, her first slamming against the glass— over and over again. "Karube, please!"

All of a sudden, his body fell limply to the ground.

The collar strapped around her little brothers neck exploded. That was what she saw.

Her hand stilled against the glass, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to tear her eyes away. Rika didn't even notice how blurry her vision had gotten until she felt the thick, hot tears that fell down her face. She hadn't cried in years.

There was a ringing in her ears, her body numb.

It moved on its own accord after that. She didn't remember running, passing over the deactivated threshold, slamming the doors to the building open. She couldn't feel anything, not the pain rushing through her, not even the shattering of her own heart.

She passed the limp bodies of Chota and Shibuki without batting an eye.

When she finally reached the scene, it wasn't the garden's silence that pulled her up short— it was the screaming. A raw, guttural sound that tore through the night, piercing the ringing in her ears.

It wasn't hers.

Rika's gaze snapped toward the source, and she saw him... Arisu, collapsed on the concrete near Karube's body. His bloodied hands gripped his hair as he sobbed uncontrollably, his cries shaking his body. His face was streaked with blood—Karube's blood—and his wide, tear-filled eyes looked up at her as if begging her for forgiveness. But she couldn't even look at him.

Her mind could only see him. Her brother, frozen in time on the ground with a puddle of blood around him.

That pulled her back to reality. Right as her knees slammed into the concrete floors, her trembling hands pressing against his shoulders as she shook his body. As if he would wake up. As if he could roll over and tell her it was all some sort of sick prank.

A sob racked her chest, his blood stained her palms, soaking through the sweatpants she wore. She tried to breathe, she tried to force air into her lungs, but she couldn't. She was completely and utterly useless, her broken body leaning against his as she tried to lift the dead weight into a desperate hug.

She couldn't do that either. He was heavy— too heavy.

"I... please don't go," she pleaded, her forehead resting against his. She could smell the blood, but none of that seemed to matter. "I can't do this without you. You promised." She clung to him, her fingers tangling in his hair. Her cries were foreign on her tongue, sounds she didn't even know that she was capable of making.

She wanted him to scream at her, to hug her, to talk to her. Something. Anything to prove that he wasn't gone, that he wasn't lying dead in her arms.

There was nothing inside of her now. Nothing at all.

Whoever she had been before this was gone. Forever. And so was her brother.

—
6766

i was then stabbed 570 times