Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello there! This foreword was made for you all to understand this tricked out to the max universe of the crossover a way easier. Ninety nine percent of readers of this fic are most likely don't have any idea what is «Lisa: The Painful» and what is this even about. So let's briefly go over everything!

Here also will be one exact detail that is important to an AU.

White Flash. It's an event that one day makes all women just... Disappear. Yes, just like that. The game itself doesn't specify what the White Flash was, but based on the name, it seems like there was an abundance of light. Consequently, the world fell into decline due to the disappearance of women and the inability to reproduce, as we all know that men should not be left alone for long. Okay, I'm joking, don't take offense, my potential male readers...

But! In this particular universe, there is a small convention: only a small percentage of women were able to survive, as they were confined to a closed space with no access to sunlight. As a result, there are female characters in the fic, and they often play significant roles. Despite the fact that forty years have passed since the tragedy, there are approximately twenty women on the island where the story takes place. Most of them have been taken over by the great and terrible Nakajima Seichi, if you are interested.

Joy. A military-grade drug designed to multiply the strength of soldiers. However, it has an interesting side effect: severe addiction, withdrawal symptoms, hallucinations, and eventually, a mutation into a mindless bag of meat and bones, often accompanied by aggression. All it takes is one dose of the bright blue pill, and you'll be unstoppable in battle! Don't worry, the mutation will eventually stop. This thing will pop up in the story more than once, but how exactly... See for yourself!

I also want to point out that in the game, specifically in «Lisa: The Joyful» there was a vaccine for the side effects of joy. However, it was a one-of-a-kind creation by the creator of the pills. In the fic, some people who witnessed the world before the Flash have knowledge that the vaccine is actually possible to create, but they do not know how. Most people (at least on the island) believe that the mutation effect is irreversible. Instead of doing research, people usually prefer to fight each other and try to survive. Not everyone can read or write, so you can't exactly ask more of them...

Location. The location, where everything happens with slight changes due to the passage of time and, well, because the author wanted to, is based on a real island in Japan called Shodo and its surroundings. I've tried to make you feel like you're on a piece of land isolated from the rest of the world, and I hope I've done a good job of incorporating cultural aspects. Thank you in advance to everyone who pays attention to the small details I leave!

In general, that's all, and you can safely let go into the wildness and charm of the world of gay bandits. Enjoy!

Chapter Text

      The smell of dried grass in the air mixed with the evening freshness had long since become familiar to him. Not in vain, not at all, he asked to move the mobile home, in which he had been living for a couple of years, closer to the border of the camp. On the one hand, it wasn’t the best idea in the circumstances just five minutes away from war, but even a ruthless leader of a bandit group can allow himself to love nature. Isn’t that right?

      The stupid question in his head made Kokichi sigh, sit more comfortably at the folding table and once again lean over the scribbled sheet of self-made paper. The intricate lines with curly markings formed a genuine map of the enemy's hideout. Well, the "enemy’s". If the conceived plan works, then the ally’s. It wasn’t in vain that the group of scouts pretended for two entire weeks to be a poor, unhappy group of surviving scientists, who decided to join the "New Hope" and their incredible mission of saving and reviving the remnants of civilization. Fortunately, they had a good teacher, who even took time off from his gang leader duties for this.

      And still… The long piece of coal wrapped in a rag crossed a curve, after which it traced an uneven path from a small loophole in the makeshift wall of the enemy’s border. What doesn’t a couple dozen magazines do to people, huh. A black, insidious line followed a winding arc straight to their target's place of residence. And then — it’s just a matter of technique, so, Oma, with undisguised pleasure, put a cross over one of the many tents where the sick or crippled lived, unable to help with physical work due to injury. Quite ironic if you recall the policy of this group, based on the "bright minds" of humanity. However, for the resourceful "DICE", such a scenario was almost ideal, since the future prisoner was unlikely to be able to escape on his own two feet. And yes, the prisoner, because that was exactly the ingenious plan of a quite short guy, whose leg was shaking with impatience.

      How to make peace with the nerds to further unite against the hated "Blue cat" in order to stop the spread of the real filth called "joy"? Show good intentions and point out a more terrible threat? Wrong, the «Hope» is more, much more bothered by the diverse composition of a gang of bandits capable (in their opinion) solely of robbery and looting. A shame, but a group led by only former police members and their relatives is unlikely to think otherwise. What should ya do then? Not to worry, the great leader Oma K… Ahem, Nakajima Seichi has a solution: kidnapping for ransom! The ransom will be a peace agreement with «DICE» and maybe a further unification of such different, but at the same time similar people into a whole settlement of the island of Shodo! And for all that to work exactly, they are aimed strictly at the last surviving relative of one of the heads of «New Hope», who, by coincidence, unsuccessfully broke his leg and became a cripple about a year ago. A perfect prey for a risky escapade. Isn’t it genius?!..

      “Stop putting your bragging next to my name, it's just clear, that a humanist such as you just doesn't want to get his hands dirty,”  a sudden serious thought made Kokichi involuntarily start up and tear himself from his dreams of a wonderful future. Ah, yes. In the joy of the successful execution of the first part of the plan, he even forgot about Nakajima. About the actual Nakajima Seichi, locked with a rather loud neighbour in the same body. Being a very calm person with almost no empathy for all living things, he only occasionally made comments about some, in his opinion, stupid actions from the “main one”, and later not even trying to understand a joke thrown in response. Kokichi partially took over the Seichi’s indifference and cold justice character for the image of the ever-present smartest leader, which is why he had been introducing himself with the name he himself came up with for his second personality a long long-time ago.

      It probably wasn't normal. More so, the guy knew it was unhealthy, fortunately, he once managed to fetch a book about various diseases and in the psychiatry section recognized his own ailment in the long title "Dissociative identity disorder". He was lucky with Nakajima’s absolute don't give a fuck, because he was quite satisfied with such co-existence with the ability to overtake the power of the body in… some specific conditions.

      Well, sorry, beatin' around the bush with cops — not for me. Makin' storm in a teacup seems more interestin', ya know, said the head of the gang in his mind with some satisfaction, though as usual no reaction followed. Tch, alright, keep quiet then, you damn passenger.

      Unsuccessfully blowing a lock of dark curly hair off his face, Oma made a couple more marks, which meant the night watch of the other’s territory, after which he threw away an improvised pencil and quickly pulled on his favorite wooden mask. No reason for the mysterious leader, who rarely even talks, to show himself. However, the clown's grimace, decorated with old paint, has become a kind of calling card of the head of "DICE", inspiring genuine respect. Well, at least Kokichi wants to believe it. While thinking at length about the necessity of the piece of painted wood with a strap, he stuck his head through the collar of an old black poncho, completing the famous image of Nakajima Seichi in the area, carefully rolled up the map with the path of today's sortie and left the small house. The smell of grass was joined by the aroma of roasted meat. This means that dinner is already approaching, after which one of the most important parts of the intricate plan will begin.

      “Nakajima-san!” A heavily built guy with a shotgun literally fell out of the bushes. Such a sudden appearance made the named man automatically reach for his chest where, in the large inner pocket of the modified shirt, beside a notebook and various pouches with useful items, rested a knife. However, there was nothing to fear, because the troublemaker turned out to be one of the gang’s Ruling Seven — Yutaka Miura. His short-cropped hair, bleached due to frequent bathing in the sea, can be recognized from a kilometer away, since only this person sincerely believes that hair from such means won’t fall off. The chief spy's overconfidence was sometimes infuriating, but after almost five years of strong friendship, you can get used to it.

      Exhaling softly, Oma slowly approached his subordinate and friend, who was probably watching him, and silently handed over the folded map. Generally, it would’ve been nice to chat, but the image of the leader thinks otherwise.

      “Oh…” The young looter straightened up, standing half a head taller than his boss, and snatched out the treasured paper. “You’ve already finished?” The nod that followed elicited a sly smirk from Miura as he examined the intricacies of the charcoal lines. Although he already knew that, as always, there was no flaw in the indicated path. “Great, I’ll bring it to our fake nerd mob, and we’ll figure it out with dinner. Ya can come too, if you wanna,” a friendly slap on the shoulder made the short guy hiss curses very softly and not so softly punch the other in the side with his fist. Though Mother Nature has worked on his body so that no matter how much he trains, it all goes into flexibility and speed, not pure strength. “Oh, come o-o-on, I’m just teasing!”

      The leader sighed heavily, then gestured with his left hand one of the most memorized phrases. Of course, it's much easier to talk, but hand-waving had more than once saved «DICE» scouts from being discovered, which he also adopted. The local sign language teacher frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

      “Lying and calling names isn’t good, Nakajima-san. And here I’ve been sitting, waiting, wanted to tell you more about our target before anyone else, and you’re…” And Yutaka waved his hand down, calling his loyal friend terrible.

      Kokichi immediately perked up. The only things they managed to find out were his name, appearance and position, nothing more, the future temporary prisoner rarely poked his head out of his living place. For better alignment of events, he needs a little more information. Character, habits, preferences. At least something, because it would be quite nice to endear him to the newfound allies.

      “Interested, ay? You’re gonna be the one working on him,” smirking at the ambiguity of his phrase, the spy adjusted his colorful bandana and came close so that preferably no one would hear the little report, “Saihara’s of the smart ones, reads books all the time just like you, and speaks with these cultured ones sometimes. Otherwise, nothing special, he sits flat after the injury and doesn’t get impudent. In short, a doormat, really the perfect victim for your plan."

      Saihara Shuichi. Even his name’s weirdish. About a year ago he broke his leg, mended the bones incorrectly, and hasn't let go of a crutch ever since. The only one his uncle Saihara Yasushi has left. And if he used to be a white noise, now his figure will become one of the most important in the game of Shodo island’s groups. In an ideal scenario — almost the main one, but it's too presumptuous to think ahead so seriously.

      A short bamboo flute song by the only girl in the Ruling Seven, Ren Iwasaki, swept through the camp, marking the beginning of dinner. After it, Yutaka and his guys will gather and head straight to the lair of their sworn friends. Will they come back victorious? Or will they even stay on the other's land as fertilizer for the land? Unfortunately, even a brilliant leader cannot reduce the risk to zero. However, one thing is for sure: the fate of more than a dozen people depends on the outcome of this audacious attempt.

      Let's see how we can mess around with that little fish… Smirking, thought the head of the gang and calmly began to descend from a small hill deeper into his own property.

Chapter Text

     The first of June for the leader began… At night. With trembling hands and gasping for breath after waking up. There was still a bloody meat mess in front of his eyes, in the middle of which lay the severed head of a mutant with childish features. The eerie image, as if it were a mockery, was complemented by the light smile of the once most beautiful woman in the world.

      “Mom…” The guy whispered softly and only wrapped himself more tightly in a large poncho for him. It was too big for the mother, and even more so for the five-year-old child, to whom she had given a piece of cloth shortly before the transformation. Nearly fifteen years have passed since then, but the garment has been faithfully serving the owner of everything at once, including something of a blanket.

      Heavy thoughts about the only parent slowly flowed into more minor ones about clothes and sewing in general. Kokichi's brain has always worked on associations: mom, an old poncho, clothes, some men's strange fashion of wearing their nipples off, sewing, and the neatness of the “New Hope” nerds… He can continue indefinitely, although after the recent nightmare, he didn't really want to.

      Groping on the shelf above his sleeping place, Oma found a pocket watch chain among some junk. A few lazy finger clicks and a small light illuminated the cracked glass of the dial below them, dispelling the darkness. It's almost fifteen minutes to three, and it's still a little over three hours until 6 AM. He learned how to count properly, after all.

      However, he’s wide awake. And it looks like it's going to be like this until dawn. The mechanism, stolen a long time ago from… A certain person, went back to lie on the shelf, and its new owner jumped out of bed and headed outside, not forgetting to pull on boots with a mask. He didn't tie his ponytail, as the purple strip of fabric remained lying on the bedside table.

      From the small hill where the mobile home was located, there was a view of almost the entire camp. If during the day it breathed life, like a real friendly town, then at night it seemed to die out. Only the attentive gaze of the leader almost immediately noticed the location of the vigilant guards. After all, he had been the one who planned them out. Including the one next to himself, from where he could hear a barely audible rustle.

      Coming close to a spreading fern, Kokichi touched the leaves very lightly, causing a noise… And immediately was almost knocked down by a figure suddenly flying out of the foliage, fortunately the guy, who had trained himself to dodge almost any lunge, managed to jump back.

      “Damn, who's goin' psych at this time? Calm down, maybe someone's just malinger¹ around,” Oma deftly straightened up from his position, after which he calmly approached the huge breathing body on the ground and squatted down to it. “Are your glass frames alright?”

      “Frames? Are there frames from glass here somewhere?” A shaggy head with snakes of long hair rose from the grass, revealing to the world one of the most naive and confused looks of “DICE” gang in all its glory.

      “I'm talkin' about your eyeglasses, Gonta-chan. With such passion to beat someone, you'll break 'em in no time,” the leader slowly explained with a sigh. Almost five years of being surrounded by bandits had done their job — it was becoming more and more difficult to form a speech without various slang words and abbreviations. Only, consider that with the big man, who was lying down now, he returns to some “intelligence” in conversation, because otherwise the interlocutor simply did not understand him.

      Gokuhara Gonta, and it was he, got up and immediately bowed respectfully.

      “Gonta apologizes to Kokichi for overreacting and thanks him for his concern!”

      “Seichi, Gonta-chan, call me Seichi…" The named one once again reminded and patted his shoulder, the size of which was comparable to his own head. Such a difference once again stung Oma with a reminder of his unsuitable for battle body. As far as he could remember, he looked more like some high school student from a manga, where the drawing was focused on all the curves and beauty of the hero. It's a shame, damn it, that the head of the gang looks so pathetic.

      “E-exactly, Seichi! Gonta is sorry again, Seichi!” As soon as he raised his head, the big man bent down again. That's what Gonta is like, as if going against the rest of the gang: polite, neat, and eerily naive. He even asked for help to braid his hair, almost to his knees, into a huge braid so that it wouldn't get in the way. “And… Why did you go out in the middle of the night? Something happened?”

      Such almost obsequious respect always flattered the small leader, even if he understood the abnormality of such behavior out of the corner of his mind. So Kokichi chuckled softly, patted Gokuhara again, but this time on the head, and in a couple of jerks climbed onto the branches of a tree overhanging the ferns. This was what he did when he made it clear that the conversation was over and that the crooked maple tree would become a small shelter for the guy until the morning, and the guard should return to his post.

      “Stop making a wuss out of him, Gonta is useful solely because of his abnormal strength. Or did you like him? Interesting tastes, can't say anything,” surprisingly, Nakajima commented on the incident, only to once again point out the carelessness of the milder Oma as the head. But the one who is "at the helm" is far from an idiot, so he reacted no less harshly to provocations.

      Better be a gump² than like you — a cold slaughter enjoyer, the leader replied proudly in his thoughts, not forgetting the joke about his own preferences. Well, he doesn't like women for the love of his life… But it was this fact that helped as many as twelve representatives of the almost extinct sex to join “DICE” and be confident in their protection! Isn't that great?..

      Once again, Seichi did not deign to reply. However, it wasn't like Kokichi wasn't happy, lifting his clown mask and leaning against the trunk of a tree. A warm breeze brought with it a very light smell of dew, not forgetting to ruffle the slightly curly shaggy hair of the hidden one. The panic that came after the nightmare under the "onslaught" of simple natural beauty finally began to recede. After all, it's just a trick of the brain, but in reality it all ended almost fifteen years ago. Even so: whole fifteen years ago…

      However, no matter how brave Oma tried to look, he knew one thing for sure — it was unlikely that he would be able to forget the terrible death of his own mother. Especially when it comes to a five-year-old killer and his first victim.

***

      “Why’s he so skinny?”

      “You’re asking me? Maybe they save up on the disabled…”

      “Zip your lips, you‘re makin’ it hard to think.”

      Lifting up the prisoner’s face by the chin, the leader involuntarily squinted as he examined the neat features. It's even hard to believe that such pretty people even exist, especially in the current realities. If he had a similar appearance himself, he would have used it to the maximum. Why did this pretzel sit flat on his ass?

      Wait, the thoughts are going the wrong way. He’s handsome, yeah, what's the difference? Still, he shouldn't forget the original plan.

      “Oi, Nakajima,” Omori, the head of “DICE” combat forces, put a sinewy hand on his shoulder. “Do you really wanna let him move freely around a part of the camp? What's the point?”

      Inwardly, Oma cursed, because the question was asked in the same room with a prisoner and with people, one of whom does not know sign language at all. What if this man tied to a chair has already woken up and is deliberately pretending to find out as much information as possible? He would have done so himself, to be honest.

      “Tetsuo-chan, I told ya already: I’m just bribin’ those jitterbugs³. Too hard to remember or what?” The leader spoke quickly and finally stopped staring through the slits in the mask at the overly regular facial features. The thumb of his right hand in a long black glove reaching to the knuckles pointed to the exit of the dilapidated concrete house. “Now, duty calls, go and visit our brownies⁴, maybe we’ll catch you up later. Any questions?” Turning to Yutaka and Tetsuo, who were standing behind him, Kokichi lifted the wooden mask and measured two of the Ruling Seven with an attentive multicolored gaze. The blond man shook his head in response, but the giant just shrugged his shoulders. It's great that the foundation of power in the group is so understanding. Golden even. “Shoot the breeze with ‘em or somethin’.”

      When both guys disappeared behind a simple partition wall dividing the only room into two, the head of the gang himself began the last preparations before the "acquaintance". It was not for nothing that he chose a place for a temporary prisoner for a long time: a niche miraculously preserved under a leaky roof was ideal for storing Nakajima Seichi's belongings. In addition, only a sufficiently dexterous person can climb there, not a cripple with an injured leg.

      To be honest, Oma was sometimes surprised by the stupidity of his subordinates. For so many years, not even suspecting the semi-official crier and regular of any bar, Oma Kokichi, who constantly hangs around in resemblance to the great leader of “DICE” — that’s a whole another talent. He can pat himself on the shoulder for this reshuffle, because it's hard to think of a better way to be closer to the gang. However, he’ll admit, the guy already sincerely believed that he was almost born a genius.

      It wasn’t so difficult to make it up to the surviving part of the supposed attic in a few jumps over the holes in the roof. A clown mask landed first on the dusty boards, followed by a notebook with a piece of charcoal, serving as a pencil, a simple dirty knife, several pouches of dried meat and one impressive with roll-up cigarettes. After a moment's thought, Kokichi took the weapon with the cigarettes and tied them to his belt with a purple strip of cloth, pulling it out of the crooked ponytail. It's not the job of a guard to be at least without a knife. And tobacco… Tobacco is a small bonus. It was usually smoked out to kill the poison, but the leader just liked to feel calm. It's the same addiction as alcohol or joy, but there are fewer consequences and more opportunities to get rid of the habit. Well, probably. He didn't know for sure. Next — a re-sewn white shirt with metal caps as badges (Kokichi saw them in a manga!) flopped down, and a black poncho covered everything. Basically, even if you look closely, a pile of dark cloth will remain the most unremarkable pile.

      The incredible transformation into a simple bandit was over. Oma easily jumped down from the new hiding place and again approached the man, around whom he’s about to fuss for a whole month. Well, nothing is impossible for the head of “DICE” himself! In the end, the fellow in front of him will still be grateful for such an opportunity!..

      Okay, dreams be dreams, it's time to do the real thing. He still needed to wake their possible new ally as carefully as possible. It's good that Yutaka, as always, is not a miss — he offered the good old-fashioned pouring of cool water right in the face! At least it's not a slap in the face, you can already be grateful. Taking the abandoned bucket of cloudy water, the guy checked the temperature with his hand and… Enthusiastically sent half of it towards the prisoner.

      “Good mornin’, pumpkin⁵!” A wide grin blossomed on his lips instantly. Oh, how he waited for the main performance to begin! “Well, actually, day. You’re dead to the world for too long. Work on that!”

      A pair of gray, frightened eyes stared at Kokichi. Oh gosh, what an innocent ninny!..

      “O-o-oh, you’re surely questionin’ yourself right now like “Where am I?”, “What happened?”, “Who’s that charismatic young fella in front of me?”... No worries, my kind soul will be happy to explain how things are goin’ here!” With every second spent under the scrutinizing gaze, the leader felt more and more on horseback, no matter how ironic it may sound. “Yeah, sorry about the fresh meat’s⁶ meeting,” his callused fingers traced the slightly frayed sling that served as a rope, “but that’s how we’re welcomin’ newbies, y’know?”

      And the “guest” continued to remain silent, preferring to cast suspicious glances from under his overgrown fringe. Okay, fine. Oma shamelessly leaned on the other's shoulder and made an offended grimace.

      “Listen, I’m also not a fan of mincin’ matters, but can’t do anythin’ about it. Duty calls, Saihara-chan.”

      “How…” Shuichi immediately started up at the mention of his last name, though he also quickly backed out, regaining his gloomy look. It's a pity that such cheap tricks won't work. Just not on a manipulator who has gathered a rather big gang around him.

      “How-how…” Simply planned your abduction and future fate — that's all! “A responsible cop like me should know who’s that new bootie⁷ around him, hm?” The short guy went behind the other and bent down to the strong knot of rope, checking for strength. “Just don’t stir the pot too much, then you won’t end up like other fishes⁸ here. Ni-shi-shi, I remember how one asshole didn’t like a trip to that round poisonous thingies!” Ultimately, Kokichi walked around his prisoner… Wait, no, a new buddy for a month! That's right, buddy—while he was talking and laughing at a funny situation that happened about six months ago, he already managed to forget.

      However, he was the only one having fun. Saihara stopped even looking at the newfound guard, now examining the old wooden floor under his feet. And in theory, the leader really shouldn't care about the almost absolute disregard, but inside he was well aware that he hadn't expected this at all. It's been too long since people had zero reaction to some small, feeble kid.

      “Hey, c’mon, am I speakin’ to myself? Or you’re offended by the fresh meat title?” Making a puzzled face, Oma squatted down and began to sway from side to side. Yeah, it's a little difficult to work with such types.… “Alright, ‘kay, let’s start again. The name’s Oma Kokichi. You can ask anyone here — that’s not a lie, bud.” and he held out his hand to shake, even though he was well aware of the other's position. “And we’re gonna hang around for a month or so, ‘cuz he himself wants to…” The outstretched hand pointed upward, meaning the leadership. “That’s all. And you?”

      Well, at least their eyes met again. Now there was suspicion in the other's eyes, with the silent question “Seriously?” The guy just grinned wider and nodded, chuckling. As if this was not a prisoner tied to a chair, but a real old friend whom he had not seen for a long time. Only the bucket next to them did not fit into the image of a simpleton, reminding with its metallic sheen of what was really happening.

      By the way… The pause was taking a bit too long. Not used to the silence, Kokichi found it increasingly difficult to smile amiably because of the tense atmosphere in the cabin, but for the sake of a plan, he could be patient. No matter how stubborn Shuichi was, sooner or later he would have to say something.

      “Point a knife at him, then he'll talk in no time,” Nakajima prompted in a bored tone and even seemed to yawn. The advice could work, but it goes against the chosen strategy of friendliness. So, in response, the leader just mentally rolled his eyes and sent the adviser to hell. Almost any fool can handle an introduction.

      It took a full minute of agonizing waiting until the prisoner deigned to speak.

      “Saihara Shuichi. Although you probably already know that.…”

      “Mhm. Actually, you’ve already got other’s attention, almost like your handsome guardian. Should I worry?”

      “That’s…”

      “Hm? Wanna eat? I asked my friends to browbeat a little with brownies, so you won’t see the skilly on your table,” after a moment's thought, he added. “Dunno for sure, though. Who the fuck knows what will happen in a week…”

      “No, just…” Shuichi sighed heavily. “It's probably too presumptuous of me to ask this, but can you... at least try to talk in more conventional phrases? Or, I don't know, explain what you mean.”

      Fuckin’ hell, nobody tried to blow their own trumpet so hard! Spottin’ the difference between us and nerds is so easy! The short guy was genuinely surprised, however, his face retained the same friendly smile. To think that simple politeness had thrown him into a stupor! The Ruling Seven would’ve laughed at him.

      “Well, dunno, dunno-o-o, tryin’ to change myself… For who, huh, Saihara-chan?” And before the other could say anything, the leader abruptly jumped up and slapped him on the shoulder. “Calm down, just kiddin’! I’m also thinkin’ about being more understandable, so why not. Not gonna promise anythin’, but you’ll be stunned with my words for sure!”

      “Thanks?..” He “rejoiced” with the enthusiastic guy, checking the ropes for strength with another yank.

      Naturally, these jerks didn’t go unnoticed.

      “I can untie you actually, ya know,” a sly grin blossomed on Oma's face. “Thanks to boss’s kindness, you can even walk around nearby. Under my attentive eye and if you won’t disturb others, of course, but still!” His index finger rested on the other's nose. “Be grateful to our leader for that! You’re the chosen one!”

      Kokichi's often frivolous behavior always threw opponents into a stupor. Like right now. He's willing to bet that the mentally named sidekick has a real mess in his brain now. On the one hand, he had been maliciously nicked in the middle of the night, tied up and doused with water, on the other — he’s not being interrogated and is even offered freedom to — who would’ve guessed — walk around! Is it pretense or really a gesture of kindness? Where is the truth and where is the lie?

      Holy Amaterasu, how he likes to see other people's genuine confusion! It's been a long time since he had had the opportunity to trick someone and observe the result…

      Okay, okay, it’s time to stop indulging his weird tastes. The leader immediately suppressed the thought that he was shamelessly staring at the man in front of him while he was thinking over further actions before bending down slightly and asking again:

      “So, what’cha think? Wanna run a little?” The multicolored gaze rested on the man's right shin, noting the unnatural tilt. “Ah, right… Forgot about your thingy. No problem, we can fix that!” To yet another suspicious glance he responded with a roll of his eyes. “Jeez, nobody’s gonna kill ya, rape or do all of this in any order. At least, that’s for me, can’t speak for others. I know, hardly believable, being tied to the chair, but… Alright!” The guy went behind him and quickly cut several rows of rope with a knife. “Here! If they really wanted to fuck you up, we wouldn’t speak right now, y’know?”

      “Let's say, then what’s this farce all about? Even before the injury, I wasn't particularly important to my uncle, he didn't tell me about his affairs... What's the point of kidnapping?” Nevertheless, Shuichi threw off the ropes and carefully stood up, leaning on a long-suffering chair.

      Well, that’s something new. So Yasushi doesn't give a shit about his only relative?

      Oh.

      Wait, wait, wait, this can't be true! Why didn't Yutaka and the guys say anything? Was the whole ingenious plan of the head of “DICE” doomed to failure from the very beginning?

      Oopsie…

      Oma bit his lower lip almost until it bled, just not to break off and slam his fist into the concrete out of desperation. He didn't even want to know how shocked he looked right now. It turns out that this obviously worried fairy is useless to them? The scouts shouldn't have spent two weeks stuck in the nerd’s camp, he shouldn't have spent his evenings poring over the map, and Miura shouldn't have risked his own life…

      Although maybe should’ve. In this scenario, there is only one option in which the plan will work. Saihara-san… will simply be extremely worried for his reputation. What kind of policeman wouldn't help someone in need, and more so the head of the group? Especially when your only nephew needs help! Well, what else can be done?..

      Mentally consoling himself with the last saving straw, Kokichi shrugged his shoulders and habitually stretched his lips into a smile:

      “Saihara-chan, you’re askin’ this from the same ordinary gang member as anyone else. All I know is an order to look after ya in the daytime and tide you over as if I would help myself. And I love myself, no offence. So here’s the advice for me: step aside when you don't understand a shit about everythin’. One day we kept kickin’ against the pricks — will remember it for the rest of our fuckin’ lives.” Tying the knife back to his belt, his hands automatically reached for a bag of rolled cigarettes and, loosening the knot, deftly fished one out. After one click, the small room was filled with the smell of smoking.

      Tobacco, after a couple of exhalations of smoke, brought much-needed comfort. Yeah, a good place he found to act out the tragedy. And in front of whom! Again, if the Ruling Seven had seen him—would’ve died laughing…

      “Sorry.”

      “Huh?”

      “I'm sorry. It's not your fault that you're just following orders and don't know much,” the cripple shyly looked away and began fiddling with the collar of his dirty white shirt. It was only necessary to notice this uncomplicated movement — the mood of the short guy immediately rose a couple of marks up. “I just doubt the sincerity of your intentions, you know? What if you want to ingratiate yourself in this way so that you can use me later? No offense, but starting to trust a person after a couple of minutes of dating is as stupid as possible…”

      Saihara went on and on talking, though he wasn't really listened to. Kokichi's entire attention was focused on his fingers fiddling with the light fabric. Perhaps anyone else in his place would not have paid attention. Anyone other than Oma Kokichi.

      What a fella, eh! Havin’ a big mouth, just like me! Okay, he can take back the words about fairy and naive ninny. To quickly navigate and act out the right reaction, without leaving the image of a prisoner frightened by the unknown — worth an applause from the experienced liar. It seems that Oma underestimated the people of the “New Hope” too much, since one of the many pawns mastered the tricks of the Ruling Seven. If there had not been a mess up with the collar, it is unlikely that the leader would have revealed it.

      “Yeah-yeah, you’re really sorry for your horrible mistrust of the incredible me, blah-blah-blah…” Every performance needs to be finished sooner or later. Releasing another puff of poisonous smoke, Kokichi calmly stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette with his fingers and put it back in the bag with the others. “Even if I’m a bandit ‘till I die, I’m not a crazy one like y’all seem to think. Don’t wanna trust me — that’s totally fine. But sti-i-i-ill…” A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he sauntered to the exit, which was just a dirty curtain. However, some people don't have even that. “Ni-shi-shi, it would be interestin’ to see how you're gonna bounce around!”

      With this joke, the guy finally turned his back on the companion and walked out, involuntarily squinting from the bright sun. Judging by the position of the shadows, sunset is just around the corner.

      The small concrete house among the many built from scratch under the strict guidance of the seemingly nondescript Junichi was not chosen by chance. Previously, one of the few buildings in the village that was almost intact was used as a warehouse, however, after the storm there was no time and materials to repair the roof, so they had to move the supplies to another location. So it remained standing here in the "outskirts" quarter with nothing to do until today. After all, the plan of the greatest leader was to introduce the guest to the local culture in order to establish themselves as good allies. Of course, an oak grove and several residential wooden houses with a bar in the wilds can hardly be called something incredible… But things happen, ay?

      The responsible guard wasn't even thinking of going far, he just leaned on the supporting post of the canopy. Most of the people were busy rebuilding the center of the camp after the recent thunderstorm, so all that could be heard was the rustle of tree leaves and the muffled male laughter from the bar across the street. With all this running around with nerds, it was somehow forgotten that you don't have to be afraid of any rustle. Even if you're the big shot in the area, everyone has the right to relax.

      ...Or not, because the main reason for the small nervous breakdown of “DICE” leader also came out to get some fresh air. Well, the smell of alcohol can definitely be called fresh.

      “What… stinks?” Shuichi involuntarily winced at the “fragrance” of the locals and, surprisingly nimbly, hobbled to another beam in order to lean on it.

      “Eh, drunk fellas from night shift messin’ around with ginger hooch, nothin’ new,” Oma just waved his hand, before squinting at what seemed to be his headache for a whole month. “Saihara-chan, have you been under the rock all this time or what? You, if I remember correctly, also can booze a little.”

      “Only those who celebrated their coming of age at twenty are allowed, while the rest face severe punishment for drinking. Mine won't be until next year, huh,” the cripple chuckled sadly, realizing inside that with this scenario, it wasn't a fact that he would even live to see this moment. “Yes, and it’s, like, generally… Not customary, or something. Is it different for you?”

      “Yeah, a little bit. Well, you can try anythin’ besides joy regardless of age, and you’re the one who’ll be dealin’ with the consequences. Also, you’ll answer for any possible shit you can do. Iwasaki-chan told me that our healers are monitorin’ the situation, but it’s hardly believable,” the multicolored gaze met the confused gray one. “Why are ya lookin’ at me like that? I’m blabbin’ about our medics! The word’s just a funny one, Iwasaki-chan knows a lot like this from her dad. Healer…” for some reason, he was really amused by the strange words of the parent of the only girl in the Ruling Seven. “Hah, almost sounds like a name! Alright, you’ll have enough time to listen to my amazing puns, so…” Stretching himself to his heart's content, Kokichi got down on one knee, spreading his arms. “Climb up.”

      He didn't even have to turn around, the increased awkwardness had been mixed with a distant alcohol smell. However, what's unusual about that? What, was he supposed to lead Saihara by the arm? And in this way they will become a little closer, and the feeble head himself will practice a little.

      “Well? Maybe you’re not hungry, but I personally won’t mind havin’ one grilled fish. Although it would be hard to explain what we are doin’ out of the concrete box… So quit tarrying already!”

      “What if…”

      “C’mon, you’ll be fine!” Nevertheless, the leader turned and smiled broadly, but because of his impatience to explain the same thing, a predatory, threatening grin appeared on his face. Inside, he rightly noted that the prisoner only raised one eyebrow in disbelief before, with a sigh, obediently bending down and wrapping his arms around the other's neck.

      What are they fuckin’ eatin’ out there, if even that skinny fella’s heavy… Oma clutched his thin legs tighter and slowly stood up. It was decided to maliciously ignore the considerable difference in height and build, as well as the severity of the load on the back. For the brilliant head of “DICE” to not be able to handle carrying one person? Unheard of!

      Taking a deep breath, and the short guy rushed at full speed towards a bar with a lopsided sign, under the stammered requests of his passenger to slow down a little.

Chapter Text

     In the “Drop of the Sun” bar, it seems that even the empty bottles smelled of some kind of burning. This sour smell has become a real feature of this wooden shack, called by someone a home. Time after time, the storm toppled the flimsy building, but people collected the boards and put together their favorite place again. Such dedication.

      However, Kokichi had never been able to figure out what’s so special about one of the many similar establishments on the island. Although to be fair, he was never a drinker. The taste of alcohol left much to be desired, and the body seemed to refuse to get drunk out of spite. He could only make do with soup and a miraculously preserved soda, if he could find it at all.

      In any case, the leader is not here for a drink. It is here that rations for a temporary “guest” are ordered to be brought, so that no one even thinks of taking supplies over the nominated norm. Try nicking something from the hostess of the “Drop” — and you'll be left without hands. And this is not even an exaggeration.

      As they say, if you remember the sun, there's a drop: a young girl with almost bronzed skin from sunburn returned to the counter. Layers of multicolored variegated fabric entwined the graceful figure, making its owner an unattainable goddess. She herself was well aware of this and more than once used an unusual for a Japanese woman appearance, which elevated a seemingly harmless person to the rank of dangerous opponents. Fortunately, she was not an enemy for “DICE”, it was enough just to look at the belt of the skirt, where the checkered fabric was tied.

      "Wow, look at that, did Kokichi really remember the way to our little monastery? Angie’s flattered,” there was irony in the slightly narrowed blue gaze, but it was quickly replaced by undisguised warmth. “You should come more often, it’s easy to get bored in the company you've gathered…”

      “Hey, quit the chit chat, booze aroun' isn’t in my plans today,” Oma replied rather sharply, tapping his fingers on the wooden counter with a rhythm only he knew. The reason for his not-so-positive attitude was now sitting in an inconspicuous corner and glaring at the back of his head, which infuriated him. He probably should have ordered for the food to be brought directly to the place of detention, so as not to have to worry about walking back and forth…

      Meanwhile, the hostess of the bar noticed a cripple who was clearly not very happy with the layout of events, standing out from the rest of the customers with a look too neat for a bandit. Maybe it used to be common to see someone in a light, and most importantly, whole shirt, but in modern times only the nerds from the “New Hope” could boast of such neatness, and even then not all of them. Realizing this fact, Angie smiled wider at her customer at the counter, who had lost his fun. Oh, she would definitely ask for the details of what had happened later in the evening.

      “What, like Amaterasu-o-mikami would let this place turn into another mess. The sun-blessed earth would not allow such a thing. Kokichi should know that,” the girl said quite seriously, after which she placed a can of sugary-sweet soda next to the leader, after opening it with elegant fingers. It's hard to forget the tastes of your very first customer, because almost no one liked the remaining chemical liquid in short supply.

      “If it's not poisoned, I'll be disappointed,” as if completely untouched by the cruelty of the world, his features were once again decorated with a sarcastic grin, although the head still took a sip of his favorite drink without any apprehension and tilted his head slightly to the side. “You can keep liquor ‘em up for the rest of the day, so let’s get down to business: is it here?”

      The tanned beauty chuckled softly and placed a wicker basket without a handle in front of him. Wow, how official. It seems that the chefs took the gang leader's order "not out of the ass" too much to heart, since they really made everything neat, even sterile. Golden people, no doubt. Inside was a simple set: fried meat, a couple of hard rice cakes and a glass bottle with, judging by the absence of any smell, ordinary water. The food was neatly wrapped in scraps of faded cloth, while the drink was carefully sealed with a cloth. Maybe it would have seemed wild before the tragedy, but now it was comparable to luxury. Saihara had just arrived at the camp, and he had already snatched an enviable place, that scoundrel.

      Although without my protection it would be comple-e-etely fucked up for him, Oma rightly remarked with a grin and covered up all this beauty out of harm's way. The back of his head was almost burning from the other's gaze, so he should be wrapping up. Only first he will implement one idea that came to mind a few seconds ago. After all, they're going to be stuck together for at least a couple of hours today, so why not grab an old friend's deck of cards — one in the entire neighborhood, made right at the beginning of this century? At least, judging by the date written on the box.

      “Yonaga-chan, can I borrow the deck for a lil bit?” the leader asked with a sly grin, and took another sip of sugary sweet drink. Ideally, he would’ve loved to have a smoke — then the evening would be just perfect. However, Angie was not a fan of the smell of tobacco, so the idea had to be buried in the bud. He'll get the time.

      Genuine excitement appeared at the bottom of the blue gaze. Right, the two of them mastered dexterous card tricks that require skill and considerable concentration. At one point, Kokichi even overtook the girl, because the cards in his hands were almost flying, mesmerizing any viewer. Does he really want to impress his temporary “guest”? She would have been happy to watch, so, giggling softly at the guess, she untied a small bag from her belt and put it in the basket.

      “Amaterasu-o-mikami will be very unhappy if you lose them somewhere or spoil them,” the hostess of the bar said with a smile no less wide than an old friend's, although there was nothing funny or endearing in this grimace. An exceptionally hidden threat that the head of the gang didn't give a damn about. He got what he wanted, what else does it take to be happy? "Come closer to lights out,” Yonaga added softly, leaning directly towards her companion. He just shrugged his shoulder vaguely, then downed the remaining contents of the bright jar in one gulp and headed for the prisoner in his ill-fated corner.

      Shuichi, judging by the expression on his face, still didn't particularly want to be here. What's the big deal? Well, big deal, he was nicked in the middle of the night and given a piggyback ride to some kind of shack called a bar. As if everyone hadn't had an inexplicable fuck-up at some point in their lives, geez.

      “Why the long face, is someone’s heart eaten?” Oma asked cheerfully and plopped down next to the same bench. The basket migrated from his hands onto a wooden table, in the corner of which an ambiguous brown splotch spread out. Fights in the "Drop" were infrequent to see, but when they happened, absolutely everything went into use, even tables. The romance of bandit's life!

      “I’d prefer not to answer this question,” Saihara was not thrilled with his guard’s joke, as he studied… something he had brought. Apart from the bottle and the strange bag, there was nothing else he was able to see, so it was left to wonder whether there was poison or something worse. However, no one forbids to find out directly. “You said you were hungry. Is this the food?”

      The short guy once again experienced some kind of strange delight from the policeman's spawn guess. Even though the nerds from the “New Hope” had firmly cemented their status as show-offs in his head, he couldn't get enough of the other's cleverness, even in small things. It had been too long since he had met someone who was perhaps (just perhaps!) close to his own level of intelligence. How was it said in an old novel — real geniuses live in a separate world that they’ve built themselves? And sometimes Kokichi really felt like there was an actual wall between himself and others... Or maybe he just had completely gone bonkers, who knows.

      However, he should get his head outta the clouds, it's time to get to work.

      “Wow, Saihara-chan’s so-o-o-o smart, I’m gonna die right ‘ere. Ni-shi-shi, c’mon, just messin’ around!” The bandit openly scoffed at the other's frowning face, before fishing out the treasured bag with the deck from the basket and pushing the latter towards the prisoner. “Eat already, nobody’s gonna poison ya. Just leave somethin’ for your very handsome guard, ‘cuz, what a surprise, he can’t get his dinner on time.”

      The cripple moved closer to the not so trustworthy basket with suspicion and pulled back the cloth. There was... Indeed food. Meat and grayish tortillas, next to a bottle with a clear liquid, most likely water. What kind of captivity is this, where you are given proper food and water, allowed to move freely and treated almost as an equal? Is Oma actually sincere in his intentions?..

      Shuichi may have learned to lie well, but he's very bad at hiding doubts. Especially in front of the pro in blatant snow job by his side. He was so lost in thought that he did not notice the characteristic rustle of the cards moving from one deft hand to another with surprising speed. Even a couple of the men guzzling a tincture turned around at the noise, and after one simple flourish, they grinned and nodded their thanks. They seemed to be the Fukuda's cousins, if Kokichi's memory was correct. It's hard to keep in mind the names of about two hundred people at once, and not to forget those who are not related to “DICE”. It's not easy to be a good leader.

      Nevertheless, he had enough worries for a week ahead, so Saihara reached into the basket and took a bite out of a rice ball. Sooner or later he'll have to eat, you can’t satiate by air. By the way, it was quite good. And along with the meat, the next piece was even tastier. The leader, who saw this uncomplicated scene, chuckled softly while quickly shuffling the deck. It was then that Saihara finally saw the slightly worn cards in the other's hands.

      “Interested, hm?” the trickster asked tartly and demonstrated with his left hand one of the very first cuts he had mastered. The surprise in the gray gaze felt like a real reward for his persistent attempts to make his fingers bend deftly. Somewhere deep down, there was a desire to somehow impress their “guest”, but the guy immediately suppressed it. Wearing a clown mask does not mean that he is actually a freaking clown. “Wanna play? Blackjack could be fun, but we have nothin’ to bet, so we can try a few mau-mau rounds. Well, if you can, I dunno if you do. But, for all gods of the world sake — don’t touch the cards with greasy fingers, or we’re gonna be in big trouble. Got it?”

      “Kind of?” Obediently wiping his hands clean on a cloth from meat grease, Shuichi picked up his six cards and placed a four of spades on the suit that was in play. Still, he knew how to play some simple games like this, although gambling is not particularly welcome in the “New Hope”. Addiction can also be a gambling one, and there are already plenty of lost people. Speaking of lost… “I know you said you had no idea why I was kidnapped, but… Maybe you have some guesses?”

      Yup. For example: your uncle should stop bein’ a pussy and make peace with one of the biggest gangs on island, the six, plopping down next, forced Oma's opponent to take one card from the deck with a sigh. No, it's too early to get this ace out of the sleeve, and even one that won't fit into the image of a “simple” guard. The head of the gang is not an idiot — throwing away trumps at the beginning of the game is the move of an inexperienced youth. Been there, done that…

      Grinning and throwing a ten, the guy eventually said:

      “How should I know? That’s the top’s problems, political games are not my profile, Saihara-chan, What’cha think, by the way?”

      Not exactly a lie, but not the complete truth either. The perfect balance, seasoned with a thrown hook to probe the other person's thoughts. Of course, it would be great to know everything in advance, but either Yutaka and the guys should be hit on the head for their unscrupulous work, or they should pat the prisoner on the head for his ability to hide well. What? The leader of “DICE” is a pretty nice young man! Well, if you don't make him angry. At least so far, Saihara has been doing a great job with this condition, arousing only interest in his own person.

      Even now he became thoughtful, put down a ten of hearts, and then voiced:

      “Hard to say… Since I'm still alive and at least not tied hand and foot, then the kidnapping for ransom version is quite a working theory. I have no other ideas,” along with a new piece of meat, he had to take two more cards. On the one hand, he probably shouldn't have disclosed his assumptions right away. On the other hand, there's not much to do, just try to catch bits of information from the bandit assigned to him, who apparently also has nothing to do, since the two of them are sitting in some bar on the outskirts and trying to beat each other in a child's game.

      “Well, no other ideas then. Just enjoy your lil unexpected location, Shuika!” Kokichi smiled broadly, then slammed another six into the small pile. “Take another, don’t be shy.”

      “What did you call me?..”

      The smile widened.

      “Say thanks that it’s not “Shumai” for you, even though I can see how you wrappin’ meat aroun’ that flapjack. C’mon, take one.”

***

      Probably, smoking near a wooden building that stores more than one bottle of alcohol inside was not a good idea. However, its very existence on the territory of the gang, the creation of which was a delusional idea of a fifteen-year-old teenager, did not seem so stupid.

      “And what do you plan to do with him next if the oh-so-worried uncle won't show up? He hardly will survive alone,” Yonaga took a small sip of sake from a crooked metal cup. It's still a little cold at night, and lighting a bonfire behind the bar, indicating that it's still working, is stupid. Personal conversation doesn't need extra ears.

      Oma exhaled a cloud of poisonous smoke and shrugged vaguely. For some reason, he really hadn't thought of the scenario that Saihara Yasushi… Simply wouldn't want to rescue anyone. And he calls himself a genius, uh-huh. The greatest bandit leader Nakajima Seichi would not’ve let that happen.

      "More precisely, wouldn't have been fucking around with all this and would’ve crushed with the numbers,” the Seichi in question replied wearily and left to being a silent observer of the torments of his compelled "neighbor." Well, let him think further that he's incredibly smart here. If it’s possible to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, then he will do it, extra people don’t lie on the road!.. Well, maybe some of them are, but either dead bodies hit by cars or completely unhinged suicides, and a wonderful future is not built on that.

      “Amaterasu-o-mikami will definitely help you out, Angie is sure of it," the girl gently stroked the squatting leader on the head, continuing to stare into the dark, inhospitable forest. Somewhere in the distance there is a paved road that has overgrown with grass and weeds in forty years. Time spares no one, including hiking trails.

      She couldn't say exactly when Kokichi started coming to her at night to express all his piled up thoughts. Sometimes, after talking too much, he even called his loyal ally "Maki" or "Harukawa-chan," after which he abruptly stopped and changed the subject. But Yonaga, who was as good at manipulation as her leader, understood everything, albeit with difficulty. It is quite difficult to understand the gnawing longing for family when only graves with hieroglyphs of surnames are among the relatives. Surely, the Ruling Seven are good people, but hardly there is a place for gaijin.

      Okay, they both shouldn't fall apart before the others. Oma, by virtue of his profession, so to speak, and Angie… Well, because it's the ever-cheerful Angie. It's ironic that they're so similar in their pretense. Maybe it's not for nothing that the guy calls her by his sister's name?..

      “You're lucky that I'm an agnostic and don't completely deny all religious bullshit," he finally broke the silence of the night forest and blew a cloud of smoke out of his mouth again. After lights out with the kidnapped man stayed vigilant Gonta, so Oma could relax for now. For a few moments, but it's better than nothing. Especially in a world where every day can be your last at someone's whim. Old history books described a similar situation with nuclear weapons before the tragedy. Well, sort of. It's hard to judge just by words alone.

      A peaceful conversation could really last almost until the morning, although then the conversing would not be on the territory of “DICE”. Just as the girl wanted to answer after a minute's pause, the grass rustled under someone's heavy footsteps. The knife and the fan with the sharpened plates were already in their hands, but round the corner of the wooden bar poked Yutaka's displeased pan.

      “There you are, you slut! Half the camp is on its ears, and he's lying here and jamming sake!” the chief scout complained angrily and immediately handed the head a crumpled piece of paper with slightly smudged hieroglyphs. “The western border stock depot was demolished a couple of hours ago. The border guards also noted that it was just one woman with a shotgun. General Chabashira-san was trying to figure things out with her guys from here, but she ain’t gonna leave the camp without your direct order.”

      At Miura's words, the calmness that had arisen in the soul immediately disappeared, the half-smoked roll-up was trampled into the ground. As if by Sod’s law, along with one problem, another appears, then a third, then a fourth… The snowball is getting bigger and bigger, and it's up to one person to clean it up. With the help of a bunch of other people, but still alone.

      “Someone’s got a second life apparently…” Kokichi said through clenched teeth, putting the weapon back into the inner pocket of his newly put-on white shirt. One swing of his hand and his youthful face was hidden by the painted clown mask. “What else do you have? Any features in that… Kitty kitty¹, dunno,” but one dreadful guess had already appeared in the looter's mind, and he didn't want to hear it confirmed at all.

      The blond scratched his head thoughtfully, trying to remember what the energetic general had said earlier. In one bandit leader's personal opinion, one could think faster.

      “Well, not really… Though, yes, there was one thing!”

     “So yes or no? Yutaka, make up your mind already,” Yonaga teased one of the Ruling Seven with a laugh, being an unintentional observer of the "internal" affairs of the group taking place.

      “Go ply bozzers with drinks on your base!..” the scout waved his hand irritably at the hostess of the bar and continued: “So, that chick’s right side of the face — a sole scar, and…”

      “And the hands have exactly the same, only smaller,” Oma finished and threw on a black poncho, completing the image of Nakajima Seichi. The good mood left after "flirting" with Saihara ultimately flopped down to the bugs swarming somewhere in the grass.

      “Oh, so you know her? Huh, then she'll be easier to find!” Miura rubbed his hands in anticipation, as if he himself will personally go hunting the violator.

      A soft chuckle escaped the leader's lips. It's hard not to know a sister who is still dear to the heart, even if not related by blood. Fate is a cruel bitch, since it decided to bring them together again five years after the quarrel.