Chapter Text
Shion awakens to early morning sunrise flooding the small room. The process is gradual; for a long minute he can only register the too-brightness of his surroundings, the heaviness of thick blankets pressing on his body.
He slowly draws himself upright, winces at a dull pain in his limbs.
He realizes that he’s in his childhood bedroom, can hear the incessant chirping of birds the thin walls of his mother’s house can never quite keep out.
And there is Nezumi, seated in a chair next to the bed. He’s looking at Shion quietly, expectantly, which is unnerving. Shion is reminded of recent events, stiffens up and unintentionally starts inching more toward the window.
“Shion, are you—“
“Fuck,” Shion murmurs absently, lightly touching his left upper arm, which is bandaged tightly and aches like hell. His voice is wrecked, he realizes, and vaguely remembers the screaming.
Nezumi’s eyes widen a bit at that and then he’s standing, leaning over Shion, who is alarmed at the sudden, gentle grip on his arm.
“Don’t—!” But Shion’s protests die in his throat at the withering look Nezumi throws his way, the most familiar thing he’s done yet.
“If you really want me to wake up Inukashi so they can do this, I will.” There’s something bitter underlying his tone, and Shion can’t say he hates it.
It gives him a measure of confidence, of control, so he bravely meets Nezumi’s gaze. “Fine.”
He wants to wrench his arm away at the sensation of Nezumi gingerly undoing the bindings on his arm. He succeeds in biting down on the impulse, and grabs at the blankets with his right hand instead.
The skin around the tiny injection scar is covered in a sizable bruise, purpling brilliantly.
Nezumi whistles, impressed.
“You were moving way too much for Inukashi to do it properly,” He intones, thumb brushing over the discoloration. Shion can’t withhold his shiver.
“And you still bruise easily, huh.” The afterthought is lower, more contemplative.
Shion sighs deeply and leans back onto the headboard.
“What happened?”
“You…” Nezumi looks at him uncertainly. He still has Shion’s arm in his grasp, belatedly lets his fingers drop from it.
“We should wait until Inukashi wakes up.”
Shion looks out the window, distaste coloring his words. “It can’t be later than eight right now, they don’t wake up until at least eleven.”
He bolts back up urgently. “Wait, what’s today?”
“Inukashi called in for you, said the board would have to do without you for a few days.”
“Days?” Shion looks horrified. “What’s today?”
Nezumi regards him coolly. “Tuesday.”
Shion looks stricken, rips away the blankets from his body and stumbles out of bed. He’s suddenly hyperaware of his lack of a shirt, is suddenly very thankful he at least has his pants on.
He starts toward the dresser at the opposite end of the room, then halts and looks at it longingly; nothing of his remains in there, hasn’t for years. He abruptly turns back toward Nezumi, who looks stunned by the sudden frenzy of activity.
“Shirt?”
Nezumi shakes his head. He sees the sharp lines of Shion’s body in the sunlight, the exaggerated jutting of his clavicle and ribs, and has to stop a surprised intake of breath.
“Your mama took it to wash it last night. Shion, you need to rest and I’ll get something from the bakery for you to eat. I’m sure the illustrious board members of this great nation will be fine without you for a little while longer.”
“They won’t.” Shion says matter-of-factly.
“I doubt your colleagues are r—“
“They won’t because it’s never happened before, not that it’s any of your business now please help me look for a shirt because I need—“
“Shion,” Nezumi says calmly. There’s a limit, and every moment he spends here, every little thing he sees and learns about Shion has been leading up to it.
“You scared everyone the other day, and apparently can’t even remember what happened. You’re not going anywhere to run away, not your work or your apartment. So forget it.”
Shion breathes in sharply, feels angry warmth rushing to his ears and cheeks.
“I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do, you’re going to sit back on the bed, and then you’re going to have a nice, long talk with everyone about what the hell is going on—“
“You don’t have the right to talk about running away!” Shion isn’t quite yelling; his abused vocal chords can’t manage at the moment.
In the wake of Nezumi’s startled silence, he resents the outburst. He hates the way Nezumi just looks at him, unreadable, instead of firing back a clever, scathing insult that would undoubtedly burrow itself under Shion’s skin.
Shion manages to steady himself, breathes in and out, evenly like Karan taught him to when he would get upset as a child.
“Nevermind, just. This is ridiculous, and I need to go.”
Nezumi is about to say something, but the door swings open and Inukashi stands in the doorway, rubbing at their eyes and looking less than thrilled.
“You two need to keep it down, Shionn’s still got one more hour before he has to wake up for school.” They whisper harshly.
Sensing the tense dynamic of the room and seeing Shion standing shirtless and looking ready to murder, they turn to Nezumi.
“What’d you do?”
Nezumi scoffs. “He’s trying to leave. You handle this, I’m getting some coffee.”
He pads out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Inukashi turns to Shion, walks closer to him. “Are you okay?”
Shion looks at them, expression softening.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and grabs Inukashi’s hands, rubs soothing circles into their palm.
“I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry, and I promise it won’t happen again. Whatever it was, it was him; he threw me off and I…” He trails off, not quite knowing how to end that thought.
Inukashi shakes him off, then pulls him into an embrace.
“Shion, you can’t give me that. Not after…” They bury their face in the crook of his neck, breathe him in for a moment. Then they pull away, look him steadily in the eyes.
“And you don’t even know what happened! Listen, I don’t know what the rat told you, but you have to stay and rest. We’ll all talk later, but for now please just stay and rest.”
Shion wants to argue, wants to tell Inukashi everything he’s doing is so much bigger than himself, than his small little life. But he knows instinctively that this is the last sentiment that would convince Inukashi to let him leave.
Instead, he smiles reassuringly. “Okay. Okay, I will.”
Inukashi’s face darkens and their brow furrows ever so slightly. They turn away. “I’ll be back up here with breakfast in a minute. Stay put.”