Chapter Text
The hallway stayed frozen for a beat too long.
No one moved. No one spoke. It was like the air itself had locked them in place, forcing everyone to sit with what they’d just heard and decide whether it was real.
Every pair of eyes was wide with shock.
Every pair—except one.
The doctor straightened, surprise flickering briefly across his face before professionalism snapped back into place.
Doctor: “It seems you arrived faster than I expected, sir.”
Footsteps echoed calmly against the floor.
Sae Itoshi walked forward without hesitation, hands tucked into his pockets, posture straight, expression unreadable. He didn’t look rushed. He didn’t look panicked. If anything, he looked painfully controlled—like the chaos of the hospital didn’t apply to him.
That alone made it unsettling.
He stopped beside the doctor.
Sae: “Make it quick.”
His voice was cold, clear, spoken aloud with no wasted emotion.
Then he leaned in slightly, just enough that only the doctor could hear him. His tone dropped, sharp and quiet, edged with something dark.
Sae: “If you don’t save him, you’ll deal with the consequences.”
The doctor stiffened immediately. A shiver ran down his spine before he nodded.
Doctor: “Understood.”
The tension in the hallway thickened, heavy and suffocating.
No one else spoke. No one seemed capable of it.
Then Reo broke the silence.
Reo: “You actually came, huh.”
Sae’s eyes slid toward him, teal gaze narrowing.
Sae: “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Reo pushed himself off the wall, his jaw was tight.
Reo: “Honestly? Yeah. I didn’t think you cared enough to show up.”
For a split second—so fast it could’ve been missed—Sae’s jaw clenched. His hands tightened inside his pockets, knuckles pressing hard against fabric. But he didn’t snap back. He didn’t argue.
He turned his gaze forward again.
Sae: “I’m not that selfish.”
The words were flat, but something sharp lingered beneath them. Hurt, maybe. Or guilt. No one could quite tell.
The doctor cleared his throat and gestured urgently.
Doctor: “We need to move. Now.”
Sae nodded once and followed without another word, disappearing down the corridor toward the blood donation wing.
The hallway stayed silent long after he was gone.
Isagi finally sucked in a shaky breath.
Isagi: “What the hell… where did he even come from?”
Reo answered quietly.
Reo: “I called him.”
Nagi stared at the direction Sae had gone, voice low.
Nagi: “He really showed up…”
Kunigami let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Kunigami: “They’re family... Of course he would.”
Reo shook his head faintly.
Reo: “The hospital didn’t contact him. Rin had him blocked..some kind of restriction on his records. I only realized when I asked. After that, the staff reached out.”
Nagi frowned, voice quiet but heavy.
Nagi: “Blocked his name… it’s almost like Rin didn’t want to be saved.”
Chigiri scoffed, arms folded tight.
Chigiri: “He still looks like a complete asshole. Doesn’t even seem worried.”
He glanced toward the operating room doors.
Chigiri: “But… I guess it doesn’t matter. He came when it counted.”
Nagi stepped closer to Isagi, placing a steady hand on his arm.
Nagi: “See? I told you. Rin’s going to live. The odds just got better.”
Kunigami nudged Isagi gently.
Kunigami: “Yeah. Don’t look like that. You don’t want Rin waking up and seeing you completely wrecked, right?”
The image hit Isagi hard—Rin waking up, alive, annoyed, glaring at him like always.
His chest tightened.
But this time, the pain wasn’t hollow.
He let out a shaky breath, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly. He didn’t say anything, but the crushing weight on his chest eased, just a little.
Sae coming… meant something. Even if he’d never admit it. Even if Rin would never hear it.
Chigiri shot Isagi a look.
Chigiri: “That also means you’re getting those hands checked by a nurse. No excuses.”
Isagi nodded weakly.
Isagi: “Yeah… okay.”
His voice was still cracked, still fragile—but no longer breaking.
His gaze drifted landing on Bachira.
He was still sitting on the floor, but his head was lifted now. Reo sat beside him, speaking in quiet murmurs only Bachira could hear, one hand resting firmly against his back like an anchor. Bachira’s eyes were red and swollen, his face streaked with dried tears, his breathing uneven—but steady.
He was still here.
Still breathing.
Still holding on.
Isagi felt something loosen in his chest for the first time in what felt like forever. Not peace. Not calm. But something close to relief. A fragile sense of possibility.
Maybe Rin would survive.
His gaze drifted to the others without him realizing.
Nagi, even though he seemed like the least expressive and least caring of them all, cared about Isagi more than he let himself show.
Kunigami hovered close, watchful, ready to step in at any second, his concern written plainly across his face.
Chigiri stood a little straighter than before, protective instincts fully awake, eyes constantly scanning, as if he could will things to be okay just by paying enough attention.
And Reo… Reo was always trying to hold everything together. Organizing, comforting, fixing what could be fixed, carrying the weight so others wouldn’t have to.
They were all trying.
For him. For Bachira. For Rin.
Isagi swallowed, throat tight.
He couldn’t ask for more than this.
Even in the middle of fear and waiting and not knowing, this—them—made it hurt a little less.
And for now, that was enough to keep him standing.
Sae sat rigid in the small, sterile room, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The nurse worked efficiently, her movements practiced as she filled one tube after another with dark red blood, labeling each one carefully before setting it aside. Sae didn’t look away. He didn’t flinch. His expression stayed cold, distant, like this was nothing more than another obligation to get through.
When the nurse finally withdrew the needle and reached for gauze, Sae’s hand shot out.
His fingers closed around her wrist.
Firm. Unyielding.
Sae: “You’ll need more than that.”
His voice was low and steady, not raised-but sharp enough to cut. His cold teal eyes locked onto hers, intense and unwavering.
The nurse stiffened, startled.
Nurse: “Sir-” she said carefully, trying to keep her tone calm, “I’m not permitted to take more than this amount from one donor. This is the maximum safe-”
Sae released her wrist only to roll up the sleeve of his other arm, exposing it without hesitation.
Sae: “Then take it from the other arm.”
He extended it toward her, palm up, as if daring her to refuse.
The nurse shook her head immediately, concern flashing across her face.
Nurse: “I’m sorry, I can’t do that. It’s against protocol. Taking more could seriously harm you-”
Sae’s eyes hardened.
Sae: “I said do it.”
The words were quiet, but absolute.
Sae: “Take what you need. However much it takes.”
The nurse hesitated, torn between procedure and the urgency etched into his voice. After a long moment, she sighed shakily and prepared another tube, inserting the needle with careful hands.
She filled it. Removed it.
Sae didn’t move.
Didn’t let her step back.
Sae: “More.”
The nurse swallowed.
Nurse: “Sir, please. There’s a real risk here. Dizziness, loss of consciousness, complications-”
Sae: “I don’t care.”
For a moment, the room was unbearably quiet, the weight of his words pressing down hard. The nurse looked at him and saw past the composure, past the control.
Sae: “If this keeps him alive, take it. Take all you can.”
For a moment, the room was unbearably quiet, the weight of his words pressing down hard. The nurse looked at him—really looked—and saw past the composure, past the control. Past the sharp tone and steady posture.
She saw someone holding himself together by force alone.
Her jaw tightened. She exhaled slowly.
Nurse: “…You’re not thinking clearly.”
Sae didn’t look at her.
Sae: “I am.”
His voice didn’t waver.
Sae: “I’m thinking about the only thing that matters.”
The nurse glanced at the filled tubes on the tray. Then at the arm already marked red. Then at the other arm he still had extended, unmoving, offering it like he’d already decided this wasn’t his body anymore.
She hesitated.
Hospital protocol screamed at her to stop. To walk out. To refuse.
But then her pager buzzed at her waist.
Urgent. Again.
She swallowed.
Nurse: “…If I do this,” she said quietly, “you tell me the second you feel dizzy. The second.”
Sae gave a single nod.
That was all.
She continued with his other arm, movements slower now, more careful. The needle slid in. Blood filled another tube. Then another.
Sae’s face remained unreadable, but his fingers curled faintly against the arm of the chair as the color slowly drained from his skin.
He didn’t care.
Not about the blood leaving his body. Not about the dull pressure building behind his eyes. Not about the way the room felt a little farther away with every passing second.
If anything, it felt simple.
Give. That was all.
He wanted to give as much as he could if it meant Rin would live.
The ache in his head grew heavier, a slow, throbbing reminder that his body was reaching its limit, but Sae dismissed it without a second thought. Pain had never meant much to him. Pain was just noise. A useless obstacle that only mattered to people who let it stop them.
He wasn’t weak.
He had never been.
So he would endure it. Like he always had.
Right now, there was only one thing that mattered.
His little brother.
They hadn’t spoken properly in a long time. Weeks had turned into months, months into distance, the kind that settled in quietly until it felt normal. Neither of them had reached out. Not really. Pride, silence, stubbornness. Sae had never thought much of it.
Even the things he’d said to Rin in the past, the sharp words, the cruelty disguised as honesty, hadn’t stayed with him. To Sae, they’d had purpose. Pressure. A push meant to harden Rin, to force him forward, to make him stronger than the world would ever be kind enough to allow.
He hadn’t realized how deeply those words had cut.
He hadn’t realized how heavy they’d become for Rin.
And he hadn’t realized how much distance they’d created.
But none of that mattered now.
None of it.
All that mattered was that Rin was on the other side of those walls, fighting for his life.
All that mattered was that Rin kept breathing.
Sae swallowed, jaw tightening as another wave of dizziness washed through him. His vision blurred at the edges for half a second before he forced it back into focus. He straightened his posture, refusing to let his body betray him.
They weren’t close anymore.
That was true.
But Rin was still his little brother.
And that thought—simple, undeniable—did something to Sae’s chest.
It cracked something open.
A weakness he had never allowed himself to acknowledge. A fear he had never named. The terrifying understanding that for all his control, for all his discipline and distance, there was still someone who could undo him completely.
Someone he could lose.
His fingers tightened again, this time not from the needle, but from the thought alone.
Sae exhaled slowly, steadying himself.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
Not ever, if he could help it.
If it took his blood, his strength, his pride, even this quiet, terrifying weakness he’d never felt before—
then so be it.
As long as Rin lived.
Later, Isagi’s hands were finally cleaned and wrapped, thick white bandages covering bruised knuckles and split skin. The nurse had told him to rest, to keep them still, but resting felt impossible. Sitting still meant thinking, and thinking meant spiraling back to Rin, to blood-stained hallways and doors that wouldn’t open.
So instead, he decided to check on Kaiser.
Kaiser didn’t know about Rin.
And Isagi wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.
As much as it twisted something ugly inside his chest, he couldn’t let everything collapse at once. One disaster was already enough. Even if part of him resented Kaiser for being the reason Rin was on that operating table. Even if that resentment wasn’t fair. Even if it wasn’t Kaiser’s fault.
He hated Rin for making that choice.
He hated himself for not stopping him.
But none of that changed anything now.
Isagi stopped in front of Kaiser’s room, hesitated, then gave a soft knock before pushing the door open.
Ness wasn’t there, which surprised him. Kaiser was sitting upright in the bed, back propped against the headboard, IV still in his hand. He looked pale, tired—but alive.
When Kaiser saw him, his expression immediately brightened.
Kaiser: “Hey.”
Isagi forced his voice to cooperate.
Isagi: “Hey.”
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Kaiser’s eyes flicked down almost instantly, catching on the bandages wrapped around Isagi’s hands.
Isagi noticed and spoke quickly.
Isagi: “I’m… glad you made it.”
His voice came out quieter than he meant.
Isagi: “Everyone was really worried about you.”
Kaiser smiled, still completely unaware.
Kaiser: “You don’t look that happy about it. You sure you’re not secretly devastated I survived, Yoichi?”
Isagi snorted despite himself.
Isagi: “Don’t say stupid shit like that, idiot. Why would I be sad you survived?”
He pulled the chair closer and sat beside the bed. Kaiser’s grin lingered, playful as ever.
Isagi: “Where’s Ness?”
Kaiser: “He forced himself on a mission to get me food and water. I think he could tell I didn’t like the hospital food...”
Isagi: “You probably made it obvious you hated it.”
Kaiser: “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”
Isagi let out a short chuckle—but it was dry, hollow. Kaiser noticed immediately.
Kaiser: “…What’s wrong with you?”
He tilted his head slightly.
Kaiser: “So you really are upset I lived?”
Isagi: “Shut up idiot. I’m fine.”
Kaiser hummed, unconvinced.
Kaiser: “Mhm. Sure. Then where’s Rin?”
Isagi’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Isagi: “He’ll come later.”
Kaiser: “Wow. What a bastard.”
He grinned, teasing.
Kaiser: “I thought he’d be the first one in here, crying about how grateful he is that I survived.”
He didn’t mean it cruelly. It was just Kaiser being Kaiser. But Isagi’s hands clenched in his lap, bandages creasing as his fingers tightened.
He said nothing.
Kaiser: “Guess he really doesn’t care about me after all.”
Still joking. Still unaware.
Isagi’s jaw tightened.
Kaiser: “I feel sooo betrayed by Rin, Isagi.”
He dragged out the words dramatically, whining for effect.
Isagi stared at the floor, forcing his breathing to stay even, forcing himself not to react. If Kaiser noticed even a crack, the whole lie would collapse.
And Isagi didn’t think he could survive watching Kaiser fall apart too.
So he stayed quiet.
And Kaiser kept joking, completely unaware of the truth sitting heavy between them.
Because the truth wasn’t just heavy.
It was cruel.
It was the kind of truth that would hollow someone out, that would rip the air from their lungs and leave nothing behind but silence.
If Isagi said it out loud, Kaiser would stop talking.
He would really stop.
No teasing. No smirking. No dramatic whining. Just shock. Guilt. Horror. The kind that clung to you and never let go.
Isagi wanted to tell him.
God, he wanted to.
He wanted to grab Kaiser by the collar and scream that Rin wasn’t here because he was lying on an operating table. That he was being cut open, bleeding, fighting to stay alive for him. That Rin was sacrificing himself so Kaiser could sit here and joke and breathe.
That Rin might die for him.
The words burned his throat.
But he didn’t say them.
He couldn’t.
Kaiser shifted against the pillows, still talking, still filling the silence without effort.
Kaiser: “Seriously though,” he said, tone lighter, almost sincere for once. “I wish he was here, you know?”
Isagi’s chest tightened.
Kaiser: “I called his phone like… a hundred times. He didn’t pick up.”
He scoffed softly.
Kaiser: “Did he break it out of anger or something? That’d be kind of funny. Rin without a phone.”
Isagi stared at the floor, nails pressing into the fabric of his pants.
Kaiser: “But he’s too selfish to break a phone for me anyway,” he continued, still joking. “Won’t even show up. All those tears he gave me before were liiiies.”
He dragged the word out dramatically, grinning to himself.
Kaiser kept going, voice animated, half-laughing, like this was all just another bit. Like Rin wasn’t missing. Like nothing was wrong.
Isagi didn’t respond.
He just stayed there. Quiet. Present. Letting Kaiser talk because stopping him would mean answering questions Isagi wasn’t ready for.
Then Kaiser tilted his head slightly, finally noticing something else.
Kaiser: “Oh—what happened to your hands?”
Isagi’s gaze flicked down to the bandages.
Kaiser: “You clearly didn’t get into a fight,” he added lazily. “If you did, your face would be completely fucked.”
He paused, smirked.
Kaiser: “I mean, it already is. But it’d be worse.”
Isagi let out a weak breath that might’ve been a laugh if it had any sound in it.
Kaiser had so much energy. Too much. He joked and teased and complained like always, like nothing had changed. That familiar smirk sat on his face, sharp and alive.
And that was the worst part.
Because Isagi knew something Kaiser didn’t.
Something permanent.
Something carved deep beneath the skin.
There was a part of Rin inside him now.
A piece of Rin’s body, engraved into Kaiser forever.
And Kaiser sat there smiling, completely unaware.
The thought made Isagi feel sick.
He sat beside him anyway, swallowing the truth, letting it rot quietly in his chest—because telling Kaiser now would destroy him.
And Isagi didn’t think Rin would ever forgive him for that.
Isagi swallowed, forcing his voice to sound steady.
Isagi: “I didn’t get into a fight. Just forget it. It’s nothing important.”
Kaiser raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
Kaiser: “Awh, come on. Why are you acting so cold?”
He tilted his head, studying Isagi’s face.
“You usually have at least some energy. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Isagi opened his mouth.
Isagi: “Kaiser, I—”
The door suddenly opened.
Both of them startled, their attention snapping toward the entrance. For a brief second, no one stepped inside. Just silence. Heavy. Pressurized.
Then someone walked in.
Slow. Controlled.
The door shut behind him with a quiet click.
Sae Itoshi.
The air in the room changed instantly.
Kaiser’s smirk faltered, just slightly, like a crack in glass.
Kaiser: “Well, look who decided to show up,” he said, voice light but edged. “Didn’t think you cared enough to visit hospitals.”
Sae didn’t respond.
He just stared at Kaiser.
His eyes were cold. Sharp. But beneath that was something darker. Something furious.
Isagi felt his stomach drop.
Sae took a step forward.
Then another.
Isagi felt it before it happened. A sharp, instinctive dread crawled up his spine, his breath catching as realization struck a second too late.
“Sa—!”
Before Isagi could even move, before Kaiser could open his mouth to throw out another careless remark, Sae’s fist connected with Kaiser’s face.
The impact was brutal.
A dull, sickening sound echoed through the room as Kaiser’s head snapped violently to the side, his body crashing back against the pillows. A sharp grunt tore from his throat. The IV line tugged painfully at his arm, the monitor letting out an alarmed beep as his heart rate spiked. Pain exploded across his cheek, white-hot and disorienting.
Isagi shot to his feet.
Isagi: “Sae-!”
Too late.
Sae was already there.
He grabbed a fistful of Kaiser’s hospital gown, yanking him forward despite the IV, despite the wires and pain and weakness. His grip was iron-tight, merciless.
Sae: “You absolute piece of shit.”
His voice was low. Flat. Controlled.
That terrified Isagi more than shouting ever could.
Kaiser blinked, stunned, blood already blooming at the corner of his mouth, his vision swimming.
Kaiser: “What the hell is wrong with you—”
Sae slammed him back down onto the bed.
Hard.
Sae: “You don’t get to talk.”
The room felt like it was shrinking. The air thickened, pressing in from all sides.
Isagi stood frozen, heart pounding so violently it drowned out everything else.
Sae leaned in, his grip tightening.
Sae: “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Kaiser’s brow furrowed, anger flaring through the confusion.
Kaiser: “What the fuck are you even talking about?!”
His voice cracked with fury.
“You finally show up somewhere for once and you’re trying to kill me?!”
He struggled against Sae’s hold, weak but furious.
Kaiser: “You’re a shit brother to Rin and a fucking nuisance—if there’s anyone who’s done something wrong, it’s you—!”
Sae’s hand shot up again.
This time, he grabbed a fistful of Kaiser’s hair and yanked his head back viciously.
Kaiser groaned, pain ripping through his scalp.
Kaiser: “Let go of me, you—!”
Sae leaned closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper.
Sae: “If something happens to him, I’ll kill you.”
The words landed heavy. Absolute.
Sae: “Do you understand?”
Kaiser froze.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
Kaiser: “What are you even talking about—?!”
Isagi finally found his voice.
Isagi: “Sae, stop—!”
Sae didn’t even look at him.
He tightened his grip instead, forcing Kaiser to meet his gaze.
Sae: “Is this what you’re good at, Kaiser?”
His eyes burned.
“Since you don’t have a fucking family, you try to tear other people’s apart too?”
Kaiser’s breath hitched.
Kaiser: “What…?”
Sae’s jaw clenched, fury bleeding through the cracks in his composure.
Sae: “Are you that selfish? That fucking blind?”
Isagi stepped closer, voice shaking.
Isagi: “Sae—please—”
Sae leaned in until his forehead was nearly touching Kaiser’s.
Sae: “If Rin dies,” he said quietly, terrifyingly calm,
“I will kill you with my bare hands.”
A pause.
Sae: “If anything happens to him—”
His grip tightened one last time.
Sae: “I will murder you. Remember that.”
Kaiser’s eyes widened.
His mind raced, thoughts colliding, none of them making sense.
Kaiser: “What… what are you saying?”
His voice broke.
“Why the fuck would he die?!”
Sae finally looked away from him.
He turned his head slightly—toward Isagi.
Sae: “Ah,” he said coldly. “So you hid it from him.”
His eyes narrowed, sharp and cutting.
Sae: “I didn’t care about the others,” he continued. “But I didn’t think you’d be this fucked up too, Isagi.”
The words landed hard.
Isagi’s fists clenched instantly, knuckles whitening, his nails digging into his palms. He said nothing. Didn’t look at Sae. Couldn’t. Guilt crashed through him in a suffocating wave, heavy enough to pin him in place.
Kaiser’s gaze snapped to Isagi.
The movement was sharp. Desperate.
Isagi still didn’t look back.
His shoulders were stiff, his jaw locked, his head turned just enough to avoid Kaiser’s eyes. Every line of his posture screamed what he refused to say out loud.
Guilt.
Kaiser: “Isagi…?”
His voice was smaller now.
Kaiser: “What is he talking about?”
No answer.
Kaiser swallowed hard.
Kaiser: “What are you guys hiding from me?”
Rage surged again, desperate and panicked.
Kaiser shoved Sae back, grabbing the front of his collar and pulling him close despite his weakness.
Kaiser: “What kind of shit are you spitting?” he snapped, the words tearing out of him raw and unfiltered.
“Speak. Say it properly, you bastard.”
Sae didn’t react.
Didn’t stiffen.
Didn’t rise to the provocation.
He stood there like stone, eyes cold and distant, as if Kaiser’s voice couldn’t reach him at all. Whatever rage or fear churned beneath the surface, he locked it away without hesitation.
Kaiser’s hands began to tremble.
He noticed it. Hated it.
Kaiser: “Why would he die?” His voice wavered despite himself. “Why are you talking like that?”
The anger was slipping now, cracking at the edges, something else bleeding through.
Slowly, Kaiser turned his head.
Toward Isagi.
And this time, he really saw him.
The way Isagi refused to meet his eyes.
The way his jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful.
The way his shoulders shook, just barely, like he was holding his breath against a collapse he couldn’t stop.
Something hollow opened in Kaiser’s chest.
Kaiser: “…Yoichi.”
The name came out quiet. Stripped bare.
Kaiser: “What is he talking about? Tell me.”
No one answered.
The silence that followed was suffocating—thick enough to choke on. It pressed into the room, heavy and merciless, crawling over Kaiser’s skin until it felt like the air itself was judging him. It was louder than shouting. Louder than rage.
But worse than the silence was the feeling growing in his chest.
Understanding.
It crept in slowly, unwelcome, like a truth forcing its way through cracks he’d tried to seal shut. Kaiser felt it settling somewhere deep, ugly and cold, and he hated it. He hated that part of him already knew what they meant.
He didn’t want to think about it.
Didn’t want to let the thought finish forming.
Because if he did—if he really let it in—then it would be real.
His heart began to pound faster, harder, each beat slamming against his ribs. His breath hitched, suddenly shallow, like the room had shrunk around him. For a moment, he genuinely struggled to breathe.
Still, his mouth moved before he could stop it.
“Please…” Kaiser said, his voice quieter than he intended, rough around the edges. “What happened?”
The word please tasted wrong on his tongue.
“Did Rin get into an accident?” he asked, clinging to the idea like a lifeline. “Is that why he’s not here?”
He paused.
There were words sitting at the back of his throat—words he didn’t want to say out loud, like speaking them would make them come true. His jaw tightened. His fingers trembled where they gripped the sheets.
“…Is he in some kind of surgery?”
Kaiser turned his head toward Isagi.
Slowly. Carefully.
Like he was afraid of what he’d see.
“Is that why he isn’t here?” he asked again.
This time, his voice shook.
Isagi didn’t answer.
Neither did Sae.
The lack of denial hurt more than any punch ever could.
Kaiser’s grip loosened without him realizing it. His hand slipped from Sae’s collar, fingers numb. Sae pulled away, stepping back like he didn’t want to be touched at all.
“Hey…” Kaiser breathed, barely audible now.
He swallowed.
“What kind of surgery?”
He needed it to be something else. Anything else. He needed the thoughts clawing at his head to be wrong.
Still nothing.
Isagi’s shoulders began to tremble harder, his body betraying him in a way words hadn’t. Kaiser’s eyes dropped instinctively, catching the movement, the way Isagi’s hands clenched like he was holding himself together by force alone.
Please, Kaiser thought, panic spiraling fast. Say something.
Then Sae spoke.
“So,” Sae said coldly, his voice sharp with bitterness, “it looks like you’ve figured it out.”
Kaiser’s breath caught.
“Congratulations,” Sae continued, every word dripping with venom. “On ruining everyone’s lives, Michael Kaiser.”
The words hit harder than the punch.
Kaiser’s eyes widened, his body freezing in place as the meaning slammed into him all at once. His ears rang. His chest felt hollow, like something had been ripped out and left bleeding.
“No,” he whispered.
The word barely existed.
“…He wouldn’t.”
His voice wavered—just slightly—but it was enough to terrify him.
“He wouldn’t do that,” Kaiser said again, louder now, desperation cracking through the edges. “Rin wouldn’t—”
A laugh tore out of him, sharp and fractured, sounding nothing like amusement. It broke in the middle, collapsing into something ugly.
“What is this?” he demanded, eyes darting wildly. “Are you trying to mess with me?”
He shook his head, breath uneven.
“Is he outside the door?” he said, forcing the words out. “He is, right? He’s just waiting for me to cry or something.”
His gaze flicked to the door, then back to them.
“…Right?”
His voice dropped, fragile now.
“Hey,” he said, softer. “You’re messing with me. You have to be.”
Isagi squeezing his eyes shut was answer enough.
Kaiser felt it then—something cold and sharp sliding straight through his chest.
His smile faltered.
Just a fraction.
“…Yoichi?” he tried again, quieter this time, like if he lowered his voice enough the truth wouldn’t hear him. “Say something.”
Nothing.
Sae stood there, unmoving. Silent. His expression was carved from stone.
Kaiser’s breath hitched.
His eyes burned suddenly, heat rushing up so fast it startled him. He blinked once. Then again. The room blurred at the edges, lights smearing just slightly, and he hated that his vision was betraying him.
No.
No, no, no.
He dragged in a shaky breath through his nose, jaw tightening hard as if clenching it could physically keep the tears back. His throat felt tight, painfully tight, like it was closing in on itself.
“Why aren’t you answering me?” he asked, voice trembling despite himself. “This isn’t funny.”
He looked between them again, faster now.
“Sae,” he said, sharper. “What did you do to him?”
Sae didn’t even blink.
Kaiser swallowed hard. His chest rose and fell too quickly now. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, loud and frantic.
“…Is he hurt?” Kaiser whispered. “Badly?”
Still nothing.
The silence felt deliberate now. Cruel.
Kaiser laughed again, breathy and strained, his lips pulling back without permission. “You’re both really committing to this bit, huh?”
His eyes were glassy now, water gathering despite his effort, clinging stubbornly to his lower lashes. He refused to let it fall. Refused.
“You’re not even denying it,” he said, panic seeping deeper into his voice. “Just say no. Say he’s fine. That he’s just late or sleeping or—”
His voice cracked.
“—or mad at me.”
He pressed his lips together hard, shoulders tensing as he fought to steady himself. His hands trembled where they rested on the sheets, fingers curling tightly into the fabric.
“…Please,” he breathed, barely audible now. “Just say something.”
Isagi’s head dipped lower, shoulders shaking. He still didn’t look up.
And that was when it truly hit.
The room felt too quiet. Too careful. Like everyone was afraid of what would happen if they spoke.
Kaiser’s eyes widened slowly, horror settling in fully now, heavy and undeniable. The tears finally spilled over, sliding down his cheeks in silent streaks, even as he stubbornly refused to make a sound.
“No,” he whispered again, shaking his head. “No, no—this doesn’t make sense.”
He looked at Sae, desperation raw and exposed.
“He wouldn’t,” Kaiser said hoarsely. “Not for me.”
His breath shuddered.
“He wouldn’t do something like that for me.”
The words came out broken, barely audible—a fragile whisper tangled with disbelief and terror. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt, each beat loud and uneven, fear coiling tighter in his chest with every second that passed.
The tears gathered at his lashes, swelling, trembling, just on the edge of spilling.
He understood.
He didn’t need anyone to say it out loud. The truth had already settled deep in his bones, heavy and suffocating. Rin had done this for him. Had put himself on the line for him.
But Kaiser couldn’t say it.
Couldn’t ask.
Because asking would mean hearing the answer—and once he heard it, there would be no running from it anymore.
Just then, the door opened quietly.
Ness stepped inside, a small paper bag clutched in his hands. He looked exhausted—eyes rimmed red, hair disheveled—but there was relief there too, faint but real, like he’d been holding himself together just to see Kaiser awake and insufferably alive again.
That relief shattered in an instant.
Ness froze mid-step.
The bag slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a dull, hollow thud.
Kaiser was crying.
Not loudly. Not messily. There were no sobs, no broken sounds clawing out of his chest. Just tears sliding silently down his cheeks as he stared ahead, eyes wide and empty—like his body was still here, but something inside him had already collapsed.
It was wrong.
So wrong it made Ness’s chest tighten painfully.
Kaiser never cried like this.
Ness’s breath caught in his throat.
“…Kaiser?” he said softly, cautiously, like even his voice might hurt him. “What—what happened?”
Before anyone could answer, Sae exhaled sharply, the sound tight and strained. He walked past Ness without a word, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might crack. He opened the door and stepped out, shutting it behind him with more force than necessary.
The hallway was quieter.
Too quiet.
Then a familiar voice cut through it, low and almost amused—but edged with something sharper.
“I usually like it when you’re an asshole,” the voice said, “but don’t you think you went a little too far this time?”
Sae stopped walking. But didn’t turn.
Shidou was leaning against the wall beside the door, arms crossed loosely, posture casual like always—but his eyes were sharp, observant, already taking everything in. The tension. The slammed door. Sae’s rigid back.
Sae replied without looking at him, voice flat and distant.
Sae: “Why are you here? I didn’t call you.”
There was no warmth in his tone. No relief. Not even irritation—just cold detachment, as if Shidou were nothing more than another obstacle in the hallway.
Shidou clicked his tongue softly and pushed off the wall, stepping closer.
Shidou: “I wanted to be here for you,” he said lightly, but there was sincerity underneath it.
He reached out and rested a hand on Sae’s shoulder.
Sae shrugged it off immediately.
Hard.
The rejection was sharp enough to make Shidou blink in surprise, his brow lifting slightly.
Sae: “Go home,”
“I don’t need you.”
Shidou stared at him for a second, then smiled faintly—not teasing this time, but stubborn. He stepped closer again, right behind Sae, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him in, lowering his voice.
Shidou: “Come on, don’t be like that,” he murmured. “I’ll miss you if I don’t see you for another minute. I just wanna help—”
He didn’t get to finish—Sae shoved him away hard, not playfully, not with restraint, but rough and violent, the kind of push that sent Shidou stumbling back a step and wiped the grin clean off his face.
Sae turned to face him, and that was when Shidou really saw him: the usual cold composure cracked, teal eyes glassy and red, fear and pain bleeding through in a way Shidou had never seen before. This wasn’t anger, or arrogance, or indifference—this was someone barely holding himself together, someone terrified and breaking, and it hit Shidou all at once how wrong things truly were.
Sae’s voice was low, shaking despite how hard he tried to control it.
Sae: “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he said.
“Leave. Before I say something I’ll actually regret.”
Shidou didn’t smile this time.
Shidou: “I don’t give a shit if you don’t need me,” he said quietly. “You’re not okay.”
He stepped closer again, slower this time, careful, like he was approaching something fragile.
“And I’m not leaving you like this. Ignore me if you want. Pretend I don’t fucking exist. Yell at me. Hit me. Do whatever the hell you want.”
His voice hardened, steady and unshakable.
“But you know damn well I’m not going anywhere.”
Sae stared at him.
There was no outburst. No denial. No sharp retort.
Just that hollow, fractured look in his eyes—like something vital had split open behind the walls he kept so carefully intact. The walls were still there, still standing… but cracked beyond repair.
Without a word, Sae turned away and started down the hallway.
Shidou watched him go, jaw clenched, chest tight.
Then he moved.
Of course he did.
He followed him without hesitation, footsteps echoing softly behind Sae’s retreating form.
Because Sae was wrong about a lot of things—but not that.
Shidou never left.
Not once.
After Sae left, the room fell into a silence that felt wrong—too wide, too empty. The kind that rang in your ears and pressed down on your chest until breathing felt like work.
Only Ness’s worry moved in that space.
He shifted suddenly, posture straightening, expression hardening—not angry, but guarded. Protective. Seeing Kaiser like this, those tears on his face, cracked something inside him in a way he couldn’t name. Kaiser wasn’t supposed to look like this. Kaiser was supposed to sneer, to laugh, to be sharp enough to cut.
Not this.
Ness: “What happened?” He asked quietly, carefully. “Why do you look like—”
“Ness.”
The way Kaiser said his name stopped him cold.
Red-rimmed eyes. A shaking breath. A face Ness had never seen before—no smugness, no edge, no teasing confidence.
Just fear.
Raw. Exposed.
And then the sob broke free.
It tore out of Kaiser’s chest before he could stop it, ugly and helpless. He immediately dragged his hands over his face, rubbing harshly, like he could scrub the weakness away, like he could erase what was happening to him if he tried hard enough.
But the thought wouldn’t leave.
Rin.
Rin sacrificing himself for him.
It crushed him.
“Is it true?” Kaiser asked, voice warped, barely recognizable as his own. It sounded like something foreign forcing its way out of him. “Rin… donated his liver to me, didn’t he?”
The words hung in the air, trembling.
Ness stepped closer without thinking, instinct pulling him forward. “Hey. It’s okay. You need to calm down—”
“Don’t,” Kaiser snapped, his voice spiking suddenly, breaking violently on the last word. “Don’t tell me to calm down.”
Ness froze.
Kaiser’s hands clenched into the hospital sheets, fingers digging in so hard his knuckles turned white, like if he held on tight enough, he wouldn’t fall apart completely.
“Answer me,” Kaiser said, panic spilling over now, messy and uncontrolled. “Just answer me.”
Ness frowned, shaken, trying to understand. “Kaiser, it’s not like that. You’re worked up, you just woke up, okay? You need to relax—”
“Just give me an answer,” Kaiser cut in.
Then, quieter.
“Please.”
It wasn’t a demand anymore.
It was a plea. A beg. Desperation stripped bare, fragile as glass.
Ness stopped breathing for a second.
He took a slow breath, eyes locked onto Kaiser’s, and in that moment, he knew there was no avoiding it.
“…It’s true,” Ness said softly.
And then, quickly, like he could patch it up if he spoke fast enough, “But he’ll be fine. He’s okay. I promise. He will be—”
Kaiser didn’t hear the rest.
The world narrowed to a single word.
Rin.
His best friend.
His anchor.
His only family.
Had torn himself open for him.
Something inside Kaiser ripped apart so violently it felt physical, like his chest was collapsing inward. His vision blurred completely now, tears spilling freely, uncontrollable.
That was enough.
That was more than enough.
“Please,” Kaiser whispered hoarsely.
“Both of you… leave.”
His voice was hollow. Empty. Like it had already given up.
“I want to be alone.”
Ness opened his mouth, helpless. Wanted to say something. Anything.
But no words came.
The silence stretched—too long.
Then Isagi stepped closer to Ness and whispered, low and strained, “Don’t push him. Leave him for now.”
Ness hesitated.
Then nodded once.
They left quietly, the door closing behind them with a soft click that sounded far too loud.
And Kaiser was alone.
He sat completely still on the bed, shoulders trembling, fingers digging into his own hands now, nails biting into skin like he needed something—anything—to ground him.
The tears didn’t slow.
If anything, they grew heavier—hot and relentless—blurring his vision until the room dissolved into nothing but ache and noise. His breathing splintered, each inhale catching painfully in his chest, each exhale shaking like it might be his last. Kaiser folded in on himself, shoulders caving as though the weight inside him had finally become too much to bear.
He couldn’t remember crying like this before.
Not like this.
This wasn’t a quiet breaking. This was collapse. This was something tearing loose inside him, something he’d held together with arrogance and sharp smiles and cruelty for so long that he’d convinced himself it was strength.
His hands found their way to his neck, not with intent to harm, not yet, but with a desperate need to contain something, to physically hold the unraveling pieces of himself together.
It felt useless, like trying to stop a flood with his bare hands. He briefly imagined pressing harder, just…ending it. But even that thought felt wrong, like a betrayal.
Why would you do that?
The thought crashed into him again, merciless.
Why would you risk everything for me?
Why would you choose pain so I could breathe?
He squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling through anyway.
I never asked you to.
I never wanted this.
The guilt was suffocating, thick and invasive, wrapping around his ribs until it felt hard to draw air. It whispered things he didn’t want to hear but couldn’t silence.
I should’ve been the one to disappear.
I should’ve been the one who didn’t make it.
Another sob tore free, raw and broken.
You kept your promise, didn’t you, Rin?
You really kept me alive.
What kind of future did I steal from you?
What kind of pain did I drag you into just by existing?
His chest burned as the questions piled up, unanswered and cruel.
I should’ve just died.
Why would you do this for me?
But was it worth it—for the pain you’re going to put all of us through?
Was I worth saving?
He squeezed his neck, pressing his fingers in. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to feel something, to remind himself he was still real. But even that feeling brought the thought that he was just a burden. He wondered if he even deserved Rin risking her life for him. A bitter laugh escaped his lips, filled with how much he hated himself.
The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. He was a fractured reflection, a broken mosaic of regrets and failures. A piece of debris clinging to the underside of life, dragging everything down with him.
And the words felt poisonous even thinking them, but they wouldn’t stop.
Why would anyone save a piece of shit like me?
I’m useless.
All I do is cause trouble.
All I ever do is make people leave.
His body shook as if trying to reject the thoughts, but they clung tighter, digging in deep.
The room felt too small. Too quiet. Too full of everything he didn’t know how to survive.
And then his gaze landed on the phone beside him.
The back of it was familiar—worn smooth by his hands. The photo case caught the light.
Him.
Rin.
The photo booth picture stared back at him like a ghost from another life. Two stupid expressions. Too close. Too real. Proof that happiness had existed once—that he had existed differently once.
Kaiser’s breath hitched violently.
His hand came up to cover his mouth as a sound escaped him that wasn’t quite a sob, wasn’t quite a breath—just pain spilling out unchecked.
I’m so fucking weak.
so pathetic.
I didn’t even see it.
His fingers threaded through his hair, tugging slightly, grounding himself in the sensation because his thoughts were spiraling too fast.
Please live.
Live for me.
I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you too.
The word too shattered something inside him.
I never knew what family felt like.
Not until you.
Not until I met you.
Before you, the word meant nothing—just a sound people threw around, something I only ever watched from a distance. It wasn’t meant for me. It wasn’t something I even allowed myself to want. But you changed that. You showed me what family was supposed to feel like—not through blood or obligation, but through staying. Through choosing me, even when it would’ve been easier not to.
I would’ve never known that feeling if it weren’t for you, Rin.
You’re the only family I’ve ever had.
The only one who ever made me feel like I truly belonged somewhere.
The only one who made me feel like I mattered to someone.
You taught me what it meant to belong.
You made the world feel less empty, less cold.
You made me feel like I wasn’t alone in it.
You’re still the only family I’ve ever had.
And the thought of losing that—losing you—hurts more than I know how to survive.
Another wave of tears followed, quieter now but deeper, heavier.
I can’t lose you.
I can’t lose the one person who made this world feel survivable.
The unfairness of it all pressed down on him until he felt hollowed out, scraped raw, like something essential had been carved out of his chest and left behind to ache. The room felt distant, unreal, as if he were sinking somewhere quiet and endless.
This isn’t fair.
He sat there, breaking silently, surrounded by the unbearable proof that someone had loved him enough to sacrifice—terrified that a love that deep was never meant to survive without pain.
His thoughts softened, drifting somewhere fragile.
In another life, maybe I could’ve been your older brother.
Someone steadier. Someone who protected instead of being protected.
Someone who didn’t need saving—someone who stood in front of you instead of behind you.
Maybe then, you wouldn’t have had to bleed for me.
Maybe then, I could’ve been the one to carry the weight.
The thought hurt more than anything else.
Please-
Live for me.