#golden kamuy fic

[seedsofagony]

Tomcat (GK)

Series: Golden Kamuy

Characters: Hijikata Toshizou, Nagakura Shinpachi; in alphabetical order: Ienaga Kano, Kadokura Toshiyuki, Kirawus, Okuyama Kantarou, Toni Anji, Ushiyama Tatsuuma

Summary: I don’t want to let the Hiji-cat-a out of the bag: SFW, fluff, alternate timeline, spoiler free

Word Count: 1,945

Notes: Inspired by the ohiru neko (sleepy cat) prize figures and this comic by tyag53, along with my desire for everybody to be together under one roof. ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Image Credit: Alexander Possingham

Hijikata sat up slowly, blankets puddling in his lap, stretched and yawned. Light filtered in through the windows, cutting golden angles across the tatami mats and walls. He was surprised by the hour. Normally he would never sleep this late - it was a waste of daylight - but his futon was warm and soft, practically begging him to stay just a little while longer. His jaws cracked with another yawn and he rubbed bleary eyes.

No. He slapped his hands to his cheeks and shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. Hair falling over his face, he tucked it behind his ears. The long grey strands fell loose back into his face. Absently, he tucked them back again, but the strands fell into his face. Furrowing his brow, Hijikata swept back his hair a third time only to realize there was nothing to hold it back.

Not a man to panic, he reached up and carefully felt the sides of his head. No ears. That couldn’t be - he could hear the birds outside the window, chittering and singing in a way that suddenly seemed to draw all of his attention. Soft movement on the top of his head amplified the sound. Tentatively, Hijikata smoothed his hands over his hair to discover two triangular ears covered in sleek fur.

His tail bristled - tail?! It stuck out straight behind him, a slender exclamation point with every grey hair on end. Taking a deep breath, Hijikata felt it relax slightly. The fur was still fluffed, but the tail curled around and into his lap for closer inspection. Tentatively, he stroked the raised fur, surprised by the pleasant buzz - not unlike a comb run through your hair.

Frowning thoughtfully, he held the tail - his tail - in his hands. First, he wondered how something like this could happen. Was he dreaming? He pulled a few hairs from the tail and winced. If he wasn’t dreaming, then why had no one else noticed? It was unusual for him to sleep this late, so why hadn’t anyone woken him up? Rousing himself with great difficulty from the warmth of his bed and stretching with markedly feline languor, Hijikata slid open the screen.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

At the sound of the screen sliding open behind him, Nagakura couldn’t help but feel a certain degree of relief. If that old demon wanted to sleep in - if he’d found some woman to spend the night without him knowing - that was his business. But there was always a part of him that worried. Hijkata Toshizou might be a legend, but he wasn’t immune to the ravages of old age. A heart attack or a stroke might take him as easily as any bullet.

He half-turned as Ienaga ladled miso soup into his bowl, knitting his shaggy brows together to disguise his relief. “I trust you slept well?”

The whole lot of them were early risers. It went without saying that Nagakura himself was awake before dawn - he practiced his sword, but the older he got, the less he found he needed to sleep. Ushiyama always got himself up early to train, and Toni was never long after. Ienaga busied herself with cooking breakfast or gathering herbs, and Kantarou had wisely learned to keep to her schedule. Kirawus was up early to hunt or fish - it was only his layabout companion, Kadokura, who couldn’t be bothered to rise in a timely manner. Ogata, well, he came and went and was little more than a stray cat.

Cat. Nagakura didn’t even notice the hot soup spilling over into his lap - didn’t even notice that Ienaga had not stopped pouring, her eyes fixed on Hijikata standing in the open screen. They all stared - chopsticks halfway to open mouths, conversations left dangling in mid-air. It was Ushiyama who finally spoke first.

“Well,” he said, returning to his rice, “I saw that in a brothel once. I just didn’t expect you to go in for that sort of thing, Hijikata.”

Nagakura exploded to his feet, half-foaming with wordless sounds, soup bowl sloshing over in his white-knuckled grip. “Wh-”

Hijikata held up a hand, the triangular ears on top of his head flicking back mildly. “I know this must come as a shock,” he began.

“Shock?!” Nagakura spluttered. “I expect this kind of prank from them,” he jabbed his chopsticks at Kirawus and Kadokura - who echoed a soft and simultaneous, Hey! -”But, Hijikata… you?”

Hijikata pursed his lips in a patient smile and began again. “I know this must come as a shock - to no one more than myself - but this is the way of it until we can find a cure.”

Still clutching the pot, Ienaga crowded around him, squinting at his ears. “They’re real?”

“Apparently,” said Hijikata. “And there’s more.” He coughed softly into his hand, a sinuous grey tail suddenly curling into view.

For a fraction of a second, you could have heard a pin drop - then the room erupted. Nagakura’s eyes rolled back into his head and he hit the floor, soup spraying across the tatami mat. Ienaga wondered if, at some desperate point in time, Hijikata had ever eaten a cat. Kantarou squealed then immediately covered his mouth, eyes wide but sparkling. Kadokura could only stutter and flush bright red while Kirawus banged him on the back, convinced he must be choking.

Only Ushiyama and Toni failed to react. Wiggling a finger in his ear, Toni grimaced. “Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?”

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Once the excitement died down and Nagakura had been revived, Hijikata tried to conduct business as usual. He went over the day’s plans, talked strategy, and doled out the necessary funds, but all the while, he couldn’t shake the heaviness of fatigue. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and take a little cat nap for, say, ten to twelve hours. After that? Something to eat and maybe a bath before going back to sleep. It was utterly unlike him, but he didn’t pay it any mind - it was instinctively feline hedonism.

The feeling only grew as the day progressed. His men came and went, while Hijikata found himself following the rays of the sun as they moved around the room. When the sun sank below the horizon, bathing the room in cool blue shadows, he nestled up to the brazier, nearly close enough to singe the fur on his ears and tail.

Stifling a yawn, neither seemed all that strange to him now. They weren’t entirely convenient - when Kadokura and Kirawus began to bicker like an old married couple, Hijikata’s ears flattened against his head, tail lashing in annoyance. That shut them up faster than his feline glare. It was becoming impossible to maintain his usual cool facade.

By the time dinner rolled around, the house was full again. Ienaga served up bowls of rice (which Hijikata mostly ignored) with grilled fish (which he devoured). Sake, while not quite as palatable as the fish, was still welcome, and deep into their cups, Hijikata’s new appendages became the center of attention again.

Kantarou sprawled out on the floor, face flushed, entranced by Hijikata’s lithe grey tail. “Can I touch it…?” he asked, words thick with drink.

Before Hijikata could answer, Kantarou circled his hand around the tail, gently stroking it from bottom to top, letting it fall from his loose grip. Hijikata sat bolt upright, struck by that pleasant buzz again, and a soft, deep Prrp! rumbled in his chest.

For the second time that day, you could have heard a pin drop. And for the second time, the room absolutely exploded, everyone crawling over the top of each other to pet ears and tail. Nagakura reacted better this time, emboldened by his sake. Swinging a broom like a katana - deadly if domestic - he chased them off or at least in circles. Hijikata slunk out of the room unnoticed. He’d had his share of the commotion and it was long past time for bed.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

In the morning, Hijikata found himself curled up on the blankets, tail wrapped snugly around his body and over his nose. It was dark still, but he could make out each sleeping shape as easily as if it were daylight. His ears swiveled toward the window, catching the chirping of birds - fascinating stuff. Rousing himself, he arched his back into a full-body stretch and padded toward the shades for a peek. Hands caught him up before he could even make it off the blanket.

“Hijikata?”

Nagakura peered at him, holding him under his arms. Hijikata flicked his tail in annoyance.

“Is that really you?”

Apart from his own name, the rest of Nagakura’s soft sounds were lost on Hijikata, totally unintelligible. He was more interested in those birds, and he’d just about enough of being held. But instead of putting him down, Nagakura hugged his small grey body to his chest, tucking his fuzzy head beneath his bristled chin. He tolerated it, and the longer Nagakura held him like this, the more pleasant it became. A deep purr emanated from his chest as Nagakura buried his nose into his fur.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

At breakfast, no one knew what to say. The old grey cat lay curled in Nagakura’s lap, dozing, purring in its sleep as he stroked its fur. Of one thing, however, they were certain. The Hijikata Toshizou they knew was gone, his nightclothes in a wrinkled heap on his futon, his sword untouched. He had been replaced, every whisker, by this feline and showed no signs of recognition. Although, now that he was a cat, it was hard to tell if he really didn’t know them or if he was just doing as cats are wont to do.

Kantarou was the first to speak. “So… now what?” He stared down at the cat, torn between heartbreak and desperately wanting to hold the little animal himself.

Kadokura rubbed his stubbled chin. “Do we continue the mission?”

“Can we?” Ushiyama frowned, arms folded across his chest. “Is there a mission without him?”

“The gold is still out there,” said Toni. “We have a copy of his tattoo. We could try.”

“Carry on his dream?” Ienaga tapped her finger on her lips. “I suppose there’s no reason why he couldn’t turn back someday…”

Kirawus took a drag on his pipe. “It’s worth a try.”

Nagakura cleared his throat, but his voice was rough with emotion. “If you all want to keep going, then have it. As for me… I'm staying with him.”

He looked down at the cat and scratched it behind the ears, tender in a way he could never have been before. The cat purred louder, stretched, toes splayed, then looked up at him, blinking slowly. Nagakura pursed his lips, whiskers bristling, as he held back tears.

“Then it’s decided,” said Ushiyama suddenly. He rubbed furiously at his nose and sniffed hard. “Kantarou, today you’re coming with me. Kadokura, Kirawus, you two are-”

Assignments and funds were given. Breakfast was cleaned up, the dishes washed and put away. The house emptied out save for Nagakura and the cat, who remained where they sat, bathed in warm rays of morning light.

“If you ever get well,” murmured Nagakura, “I hope you remember this day.” The cat did not stir, but sat in a loaf on the old man’s lap. “Alive or dead, Hijikata Toshizou still commands the hearts of men.”

At this, the cat opened one eye - its slitted pupil meeting Nagakura’s gaze - before closing it again. A deep purr rumbled through its chest, and Nagakura could not be sure that the demon vice commander was not still there, somewhere, in the soft body of a small grey cat.

[omo321]

“Are you crying?” Fina exclaims in alarm. Tsurumi is equally startled when he wipes at his face and his hand comes away wet. Not once had he shed tears, not even when he’d lost them. Pulling a chair up to him, Fina dries his cheeks with soft dabs of her handkerchief. With her hand on his shoulder and her beautiful, bright eyes soft with more love than Tsurumi can bear, she waits for an explanation that he cannot give.

gnawing on "theatre" by Saengak again... it's free serotonin to me

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Hyakunosuke Ogata x reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This fic is @dolcezzzza's summer horror event, The Cabin! The title comes a Dum Dum Girls song which got its name from A Season in Hell by shitlord poet, Arthur Rimbaud. I'm not a fan, but each section of the fic starts with a line from his poem bc some of his prose kinda slaps. [ SYNOPSIS ] The summer camp you're working at is being terrorized by a unseen force that is picking off your fellow counselors one by one. [ WORD COUNT ] 15.3k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, cliche summer camp slasher film AU, murder/character death, gore, alcohol (binge drinking), suicide, vaginal sex, size kink (his dick is girthy okay), strength kink, oral sex, rough sex, facefucking, exhibitionism, biting.

Baptism enslaved me

The past week had been a blur. You spent seven days running around in the heat, trying to make an inhospitable boy scout camp into something inspired. Breaking it in was your duty as your group was the first of the season. The trappings of a long, snowy winter and a violently wet spring lingered around the facilities. Your arms ached from clearing out fallen branches and musty piles of decayed leaves. Your clothes were constantly mottled with cobwebs and dust. Every night when you collapsed in your twin-sized cot you debated on running through the woods towards the highway seeking salvation in the form of a kind motorist.

That’s why you hoped you would spend your last child free morning in the comfort of your cabin. And yet there you sat, listening to the camp director droned on. You melted in the midday sun with your back against a tree, a pitiful attempt to shelter yourself under its leaves.

“I’m gonna die out here,” Shiraishi, your partner for the summer, moaned.

He too was slumped by the tree, his head hanging down limply. You flicked him in the shoulder with your thumb and forefinger.

“You can’t die. Mr. Tsurumi still hasn’t told us what group we have,” you whispered.

“I think you can handle them on your own.”

Sugimoto turned his attention towards the two of you. His cheeks flushed from sitting in the sun. He didn’t seem to mind bathing in its rays.

“Can you at least pretend to pay attention like me?”

His words barely registered. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. A dusting of tan freckles spread across the bridge of his nose, elevating his boyish looks. He was the only one who got cuter after a week of hard labor.

“Sure,” you said, mind still occupied with the slope of his nose.

“Unfortunately our lead counselor will not be joining us for the first couple days of camp.” The director wiped sweat away from his brow. “I’m sure all of you have heard about Yūsaku’s unfortunate… situation.”

“We heard alright,” Usami snickered.

Yūsaku had forgotten to reapply sunscreen and got scorched from head-to-toe. The golden boy’s pained groans persisted through the night as everyone attempted to sleep. Yellow blisters ballooned on his skin, marring his pristine complexion. You tried your best not to think about his affliction.

“But I know we will persevere in his absence. I have high hopes for this summer. Let’s make it a good one.” He smiled warmly. “The campers will be arriving in two hours. Your coordinators, Mr. Koito and Mr. Tsukishima, will have your rosters and itineraries for the week.”

Tsurumi said his goodbyes and strided away to his quarters. You stood up slowly, stretching your arms above your head.

“I feel… like we’re missing people,” you said, twisting your waist. “Where’s your partner?”

Sugimoto looked around and shrugged. He was paired with Ogata, easily one of the most enigmatic people you knew.

“Well there’s Tanigaki,” Shiraishi yawned. “Inkarmat’s with him too.”

Tanigaki’s burly form crested the hill. He looked ashamed, like a puppy three seconds from getting kicked down the stairs. Inkarmat followed close behind with a cooler expression. She looked refreshed and practically glowed.

“Did we miss anything important?”

Sugimoto looked at him with big, sad, wet eyes and sniffled. “Camp got canceled. We’re getting sent home with no pay.”

“And it’s all your fault, like specifically yours,” you said with a glare.

Shiraishi mirrored your expression. “Mr. Tsurumi said your name.”

Tanigaki’s eyes briefly widened before adopting a more stern state. You knew he bought it for a millisecond.

“Am I in trouble for anything?” Inkarmat asked, laughing. She was unflappable.

“No. You’re not being held accountable,” you replied.

“Just in time for Women’s History Month,” Shiraishi added cooly.

It was June and the last time you checked Women’s History Month was in March. Inkarmat snickered and grabbed Vasily by the wrist, dragging him off towards the mess hall. The idea of going inside sounded practically orgasmic. There was zero chance you could comprehend what activities were planned for the day if sweat continued to drip down your spine all the way to the crack of your ass.

“Let’s get our shit and go, like, sit down somewhere,” you said, tone somewhat urgent.

Shiraishi nodded in agreement and offered to deal with the coordinators. He could tell you were in no position to talk to upper management. You decided to wait rather than go off on your own even though your impatience was on the verge of having a body count. Luckily neither Mr. Koito or Mr. Tsukishima seemed particularly interested in speaking to him, or any of the counselors for that matter. You were so relieved 

There was a collective sigh of relief once you reached the shade. You scanned your roster, familiarizing yourself with the names listed.

“Archery on Wednesday?” Sugimoto said, voice slightly concerned. “That sounds cool, but should we really be giving kids arrows?”

“What?! We don’t have archery. We have knife throwing. Well that explains all the knives…”

“That’s not all we’re doing is it?” you asked.

“One day we’re dissecting owl pellets—Oh wait, there’s archery.”

“Do you guys have judo on Tuesday?” Sugimoto asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Shiraishi affirmed. “And then we have Russian immersion right after.”

“Russian immersion?” you asked.

“You know, the language,” Shiraishi clarified albeit for no reason as both you and Sugimoto knew Russian was in fact a language.

“We’re doing that too,” Sugimoto said, yawning. “And wagashi making.”

Other activities listed were: friendship bracelet making and various types of yarn-based projects, mushroom hunting, canoeing, swimming, hiking and giant shogi.

Peace had fallen over the three of you. All you could hear was lilting bird calls and a burbling stream. Just as you had grown accustomed to the wondrous sounds of nature, you heard the crushing of twigs and dry leaves.

“It’s a bear,” Shiraishi whispered.

“There are no bears around here,” you said.

“Even if there were bears, Mr. Tsurumi has a shotgun in his cabin,” Sugimoto chirped.

Shiraishi sighed in exasperation. “Great because that’ll definitely save us right now from getting eaten alive.”

Despite there being a lack of bears in the area every hair on your body bristled. What if you all fell victim to a vicious wild boar attack? You weren’t even sure if wild boars inhabited the area either, but logic didn’t matter. All you knew was you didn’t want to die at camp. You didn’t want to have your flesh ripped from your body by an overgrown, ugly hog or any animal to be honest. You were too young; there was so much you wanted to do in life, so much you needed to accomplish.

“Oh. It’s just Ogata,” Shiraishi said.

Sugimoto’s co-counselor emerged from the redwoods, his expression blank and unreadable. He didn’t react to Shiraishi saying his name. It was if he intended on strolling past without saying a word. Usually you found this type of behavior tiresome and obnoxious, but he made it alluring and charming in an absurd sort of way.

“Where are you going?” Sugimoto asked.

“To camp.”

Sugimoto went to speak, but you butted in.

“You should come sit with us! We got our schedules and everything! ” you blurted out.

Your face was burning. You assumed you would’ve been smoother with your approach. Your fumble didn’t seem to phase Ogata as he took a seat right next to you, leaving zero space in between. Sugimoto was left alone on the other side of the picnic table.

“Did I miss anything important?” he asked.

Sugimoto wordlessly slid their group’s information across the table. Ogata looked it over. 

“Mushroom hunting,” Ogata muttered as he ran his hand over his undercut, trying to smooth down a rogue lock of hair. “Hm. We’ll have to make sure the kids don’t pick anything toxic.”

Shiraishi groaned. “I figured everything out there would be safe to eat.”

“Wh—what do you mean out there? It’s the woods. Do you think Mr. Tsurumi combed through the entirety of it to make sure every little growth out there isn’t toxic?” you asked.

You found yourself compelled to say as many words as possible to make your presence known even if it was at the expense of your partner. It was shameful, but it was an unstoppable compulsion. Ogata’s presence implored you to take up more space. You laughed louder than you normally would. You smiled when your expression would otherwise be one of indifference. You said the things you would otherwise be too lazy to. Anything to get his attention even if just for a passing moment.

Ogata chuckled and your heart sang.

“I don’t know! Now we’re gonna have to watch them like hawks.”

“Our job is to supervise them,” Sugimoto chided.

“Excuse me for not wanting to do my job,” your partner grumbled.

You wondered how feasible it would be to get assigned a new co-counselor. Shiraishi wasn’t unlikable; you got along well enough. But you had a feeling most of the heavy lifting would fall on you.

Shiraishi rested his chin on his hand. “I just hope our kids aren’t assholes.”

“They will be. That’s just how kids are,” you laughed.

“Not if you scare them into submission.”

“Nope. Not happening. Not a chance,” Sugimoto said, demolishing Ogata’s suggestion.

“As long as we all set expectations early it shouldn’t be too bad. They just need to know what to expect from us. Kids are sedated by consistency.”

“Sedated?” Ogata asked with a smirk.

His voice, rich and gruff, reverberated throughout your body. It seeped through your skin, deep into your bones, saturating your thoughts with unseemly things. Your eyes went to his hands, something you always found attractive, only to be mildly disgusted by his dirty fingernails. 

You tried to shake it off. “Domesticated. Placated. Basically they won’t act like monsters.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied.

“We should start getting ready,” Sugimoto said.

“I guess,” Shiraishi yawned.

You slapped him on the back. “You can’t be tired yet.”

Your partner whined that he was within his right to be tired which didn’t matter one way or another to you. It was going to be a long day; you could feel it. But not all hope was lost. If you were able to get within close range of Ogata it would be more than worth it.

The horror of my stupidity

The first day went perfectly. Your group consisted of six rambunctious, but generally well-behaved ten-year-olds. Shiraishi managed to overcome his lackadaisical leanings and took a hands-on role, but still deferred to you. You didn’t mind leading so long as he wrangled the more unruly kids. His commitment set you at ease.

The next morning was a quiet one. The kids were usually placid at first. Their cautiousness proved useful while foraging for mushrooms. They kept their hands to themselves and none of them ate anything deadly. The only unsettling thing was Tsurumi’s gleeful reaction whenever a destroying angel popped up.

“Mr. Tsurumi, would you poop your pants if you ate one?” a camper asked thoughtfully.

His dark eyes lit up and he gave the child a toothy grin.

“Why yes! Diarrhea and excruciating cramps are the first symptoms of alpha-Amanitin poisoning.”

Another camper pointed out what they thought was a wild carrot only to be told by an ecstatic Tsurumi that it was actually hemlock. The kids were riveted as he detailed the horrific symptoms of hemlock poisoning. Their horrified gasps when he told them there was no antidote seemed to thrill him.

Upon returning to camp it became clear that all was not well. Shiraishi was the first to notice the white sheet draped over a humanoid shape. It was partially obscured by one of the cabins. Tsurumi’s jovial facade gave way to flat expression and he sprinted off towards the disturbing scene.

“Hey,” you whispered, tapping Sugimoto on the shoulder. “Can you guys take the kids? I’m, uh, gonna be nosy.”

Your partner stood erect beside you. “Me too.”

“No,” you hissed. Shiraishi didn’t budge. “Someone has to be with our group.”

“Why not you then?”

“Be—because I was… I was… okay. Listen—”

“It’s fine. I got it,” Sugimoto sighed. “I wanna know all the details though. If you skimp, I’ll never forgive either of you.”

Ogata cleared his throat. He herded the campers away from whatever was shrouded under the white sheet. They were all clamoring around him, wondering when they’d get to eat fruit snacks. One was crawling up his leg and another was attempting to tie his shoes together. It made your stomach flutter seeing him be so patient with them.

Sugimoto took the hint and headed towards his partner and the gaggle of children, but he stopped midway to reiterate that he wanted all the details much to Ogata’s annoyance.

Once they were out of sight you and Shiraishi crept closer to and saw Nurse Kano kneeling beside what you assumed was a corpse. She lifted the sheet and studied what was under it, her expression a twisted combination of enthrallment and disgust. She stood up slowly.

“He’s dead.”

“We should call the paramedics then,” Tsukishima said.

Koito looked perplexed. “But he’s already dead. Shouldn’t we call the coroner?”

“You can’t just call up the coroner,” Tsukishima sighed.

Tsurumi squatted by the body and lifted the sheet. The director’s curiosity gave you a perfect view.

It was Tanigaki. His face was pale, eyes wide and cloudy. His lips and chin were crusted over with banana yellow bile. A desperate cry got caught in your throat. You wanted to look away and go back to your kids. But you were frozen, lost in Tanigaki’s lifeless gaze.

“Tanigaki,” you croaked.

Tsurumi’s eyes darted in your direction before returning to Tanigaki’s body.

“Otonoshin, go call 9-1-1,” he said calmly.

Koito rushed off to make the call. Tsurumi lowered the sheet. You couldn’t believe that you’d never see Tanigaki again, that he was gone for good. You hadn’t known him long, but you grew very fond of him.

“He can’t… This isn’t happening…”

You struggled to find the words. Seeing the outline of his face under the sheet radiated a finality that ripped your soul from your body.

“I wonder what happened,” he mumbled as you both walked away. “He looked…”

“I—I can’t think about that right now. I don’t wanna think about that right now.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

You wiped your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Let’s hike to the lake or something. I don’t know.”

There was a sense of relief when you spotted the campers. You couldn’t help but smile when they broke out into a cacophony of questions regarding your whereabouts. In the midst of the excitement one camper launched a fruit snack at Shiraishi’s eye.

“You pull something like that again and I’m sending you to Mr. Tsukishima,” Ogata rumbled.

“Anyway,” Shiraishi said. “Who wants to hike up to the lake? Maybe race some canoes?”

The campers cheered and bolted in the direction of Tanigaki’s body. You and Sugimoto chased after them but they scattered like roaches. You could only stop so many of them.

“Hey! Were any of you dismissed?!”

Ogata’s voice cut through them and they immediately made their way back, heads hanging. You hadn’t expected him to be so firm with the campers. He was kind of withdrawn around the other counselors, or at the very least opaque. He mostly kept to himself though his brother was usually fluttering around him. You felt like you barely knew Ogata despite spending time with him, whereas Shiraishi and his oversharing made him feel more like an old friend or a weird cousin. As frustrating as it was, the mysterious haze that obscured Ogata drew you in. You wanted to know more about him, to pry open his soul and study its contents.

“You all owe your counselors an apology.” Ogata’s sharp gaze turned to the kid that hit Shiraishi with a fruit snack. “You especially.”

The kid looked terrified and quickly mumbled an apology. The rest of the campers groaned “we’re sorry” in unison. With the apologies out of the way the four of you prepared them for their hike.

“Look! More hemlock!” one the kids exclaimed. She knelt beside the plant, her face inches from its toxic, white flowers.

“Don’t get too close to it,” Sugimoto said, his voice like that of a concerned mother.

You could barely focus, but the camper was in your group so you felt compelled to try. “Or just don’t go around it at all. Leave it alone.”

“I’m just looking!”

“Looking that close is enough to kill,” Ogata said over his shoulder. “If you inhale the fumes, you're dead.”

This seemed to quell any remnants of curiosity. The campers spent the rest of the hike spotting mushrooms and imitating Tsurumi’s passionate infodumping. The word “creepy” was thrown around liberally. You chastised them for being disrespectful, but you agreed. His behavior made you uncomfortable, especially in the wake of Tanigaki’s mysterious death.

The lake was calm, the serenity of the scene much needed.

“Look!” a camper called out.

You thought it was cute that they were just as pleased to see the lake as you were. However something was riling them up as they made their way down to the shore. Some ran right back up the hill. Their faces paled, their eyes ripe with fear. 

“Saichi, Saichi!!” one said, latching onto his arm. “Look!!”

Sugimoto crested the hill and looked down.

“Oh shit,” he said. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“Stop swearing around the kids,” Ogata sighed as he joined his co-counselor to survey the situation. “Shit.”

“What is it?” you and Shiraishi shouted.

“Everyone away from the lake!” Ogata called out.

The kids bounded up the hill and cowered beside you, clinging to you for comfort.

“You guys, what is it?” you repeated, patting a camper on the head. “Is it something gross?”

“You could say that,” one piped up.

Sugimoto and Ogata turned to face you, but they seemed unable to speak. You freed yourself from the kids and walked towards them. Your absence caused them to swarm Shiraishi.

“It’s a body!” one shrieked.

“Um, it’s a lady!” one replied in a bratty tone.

Each step felt heavier than the last. Your body was screaming for you to turn around, but you couldn’t. You felt sick to your stomach. Kids made up stories all the time. They played pranks. Maybe they were lying.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Maybe she’s just sleeping.”

“What are you? Dumb? She’s dead!”

Their voices were all melding into one. Everything began to blur. You knew what was coming. You knew what you were going to see. And yet you kept walking.

It was Inkarmat.

“Shi… Shiraishi. Take the ki…”

You forced yourself to look at the water, trying to ignore her putrefied remains. You leached away its calmness like a parasite. The tranquility you attempted to foster only did so much. You still felt like garbage, like you could vomit at any second.

“What is it?!” Shiraishi shouted back. “And,” he groaned, “I can’t take them all by myself!”

He was right. Being responsible for twelve disturbed children in the woods with terrible cell reception was asking for trouble, but you were too stunned to think up a plan of action.

“Ogata and I will be in the front. You and Shiraishi take the back. I’ll tell Tsurumi when we get back to camp.”

You nodded and started walking back to the group with Sugimoto. Tears welled up in your eyes as you made eye contact with a terrified camper.

“Hey! Ogata!”

He was still on the hill, staring down into the lake

 “We have to go!” Sugimoto bellowed.

Ogata didn’t budge, and Sugimoto did not have the time for such antics.

“I’ll wait for him,” you said, wiping away your tears. “I don’t want the kids to see me like this anyway.”

“It wouldn’t kill them to see that you’re human,” Sugimoto said, trapping you in his gaze.

You sniffled. “Gross.”

Sugimoto didn’t have time for whatever was going on with you either. You couldn’t blame him. The kids had to take precedence. All you needed was two minutes to collect yourself and you’d be a functioning camp counselor again.

Ogata was still frozen in time. Everything was so still you didn’t want to speak, let alone move. You felt like the sound of a twig snapping beneath your feet could send the world into chaos.

“Hyakunosuke.” Your voice was soft, any louder and it would waiver.

Your legs shook as you made your way up the hill next to him. You made a conscious effort to keep your eyes on Ogata, nowhere else. You let yourself get lost in him and studied his face. You were curious about his symmetrical scars and how he got them.

“You’re not traumatized by this?” Ogata finally asked.

You thought about Tanigaki.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he said, pointing at Inkarmat’s bloated corpse.

“Why are you asking?”

“I dunno. Curious I guess.”

Your mind went blank, but you kept speaking. “I’m… upset obviously. But I don’t want the kids to know… so… I’m—I am gonna pretend none of this ever happened and get through the week in one piece hopefully.”

“I know you can do it.”

His support did little to soothe you.

“I saw Tanigaki earlier. I saw his face. It was… He had puked all over himself and it just was so sad, like so undignified.” Ogata snorted, but you were too frazzled to comprehend it at the time. “And now that’s how I’m going to fucking remember him?” You tried to take some measured breaths. “Like was he in pain? Was he scared? Did he call out to any of us? Did he die, like, knowing we cared about him? Or did he just fucking lie in the dirt for hours, wondering why none of us came to help him?”

“Where was he?”

“His cabin. It kinda looked like he was leaving, or maybe he was going back in. He was on his back though.”

You couldn’t say anything more. You needed as much distance from the memory as possible. If Ogata wanted to know more, he would have to badger Shiraishi.

“Let’s go,” he said suddenly. “They’ll probably have to ask us a bunch of questions.”

“They? Who—”

“Maybe Tsurumi. Or his two guard dogs. Or the police. If we’re lucky maybe it’ll be all of them.”

Your bones were turning into dust, your body buckling under its own weight. You saw far too much today and said too much about it.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asked.

“I can’t move.”

You knew that in theory you could manipulate your body in such a way that would create distance between you and what remained of Inkarmat. You were practically screaming at yourself to go back to the group and embody Shiraishi’s laid back nature. But your fear was intangible, unforeseen, and there was no escaping it.

“Get on my back.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll carry you,” he said, readying himself to give you a piggyback ride.

“Are you sure?”

“Probably.”

You felt bad for giggling, considering you weren’t far from a corpse, but the lightness of it set you free. You hopped on his back and made your way through the woods, following the shrill voices of your campers.

“I’m going to need a drink after today,” Ogata grumbled.

“What do you mean a drink? I need an entire fifth to myself with one of those sport caps they have on water bottles screwed on top.”

“I can make that happen.”

Ogata said it with such ease. He was becoming the perfect distraction, a comforting beacon in a sea of blood and vomit.

I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am

You and your fellow counselors decided a night of binge drinking was needed to cope with the day’s horrifying events. Everyone traded stories. Yūsaku joined the party, finally able to walk upright without yelping in pain. He was blindsided by what happened.

“So that’s it? They’re dead?” he asked, face flushed from his sunburn and the copious amounts of watery American-style lager he was drinking.

You took a sip from a bottle of tequila. Ogata managed to screw a sports cap on top making your dream a reality.

“I don’t know. I mean, yeah. They’re dead. That’s for sure.” The alcohol had softened the blow of seeing both of their bodies. “Seeing Tanigaki fucked me up… Not that Inkarmat didn’t… It’s just, like, his was the first I saw, y’know?”

“You always remember your first,” Usami said as he wandered into the woods to relieve himself.

Yūsaku shivered and you washed away Usami’s words with an amnesia seeking gulp of tequila.

“Sucks for you though. You’re gonna have to pick up the slack.”

“I don’t mind. It’s what I signed up for,” he beamed. “The kids really liked Inkarmat though. I have some big shoes to fill.”

“I think you’ll be a hit. They might try to peel off loose pieces of your skin though.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take for the good of the camp!” he cheered.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed.

“In a bad way?” he said, batting his long eyelashes.

You thought he was a total dork, but his optimism was infectious. Or maybe it was just your intoxicated mind being more open to suggestion. After having such a horrendous day it was nice to indulge in someone else’s dream. You knew deep down that there was no way camp would go on as planned, but it was easier to pretend that Yūsaku’s drive would be enough to pull everyone through.

“No, no,” you said, patting him on the head. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

Out of the corner of you watched Ogata emerge from the woods and sit on the ground right next to the campfire. He held his hands to the fire. You watched as he closed his eyes, his body relaxing, shoulders lowered.

“You’re so nice” Yūsaku said, giving you a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.

It caught Ogata’s attention and he narrowed his eyes as his half-brother spun you around.

“Yū—Yūsaku, I’m getting dizzy.”

He blushed and apologized. Once your feet were on the ground you joined Ogata by the fire.

“How’s the bottle been working out for you?”

“Amazing,” you said, taking another drink. “Are you cold?” You scooted closer to him. “Where’d your jacket go?”

“I’m not sure. Why all the questions?”

You didn’t think two questions were considered a lot. “No reason.”

You hadn’t thought this conversation through. You were stumped and floundering. You should have known better to attempt to flirt while drunk. Your chance was slipping through your fingers and it made you ill. You needed something good to happen, something exciting. You needed Ogata to figure out that you were charming and interesting and most importantly fuckable.

He closed the gap and leaned against you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Maybe. I… I have no idea honestly. I don’t know how I feel. Sometimes it’s like,” you took a sip of tequila, “I feel freaked the fuck out. But then sometimes I feel abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Like right now. It feels like it didn’t even happen. Are you okay?”

“I am. I only knew them for a week so they didn’t matter much.” His comments were so callous. “Don’t get me wrong. They were nice people, but that’s all they were to me.”

“Nice people,” you repeated.

“Yeah. Nice people.”

“Would you be sad if I died?”

He stared into the fire. “Maybe. Our groups get paired together for activities.”

“What does that mean?!”

“I’m around you a lot. Your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed,” he said with a smirk.

Your cheeks flared up and found it increasingly harder to hold it together. You regretted all the tequila. Spit was pooling in your mouth.

“Yeah, well. Of course it would. I’m, like, fucking… yeah,” you said, eyes half-lidded.

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

“I think the kids and the—their, uh, inarticulateness is rubbing, you know, off.”

“Oh yeah, that’s it. It’s definitely not because your blood is 90 proof.”

“You want some of it?”

You gave him a sloppy wink. His dark eyes widened, his eyebrows raised. It was the first time you had ever seen him so flustered.

“I—” he stuttered.

“Hey,” Shiraishi barked. “You guys seen Vasily?”

Ogata resumed his usual hard to read demeanor. You wanted to break the bottle in your hand and gut Shiraishi with it.

“Uhhhhh… Not like recently. I thought he was with you and Sugimoto,” you replied politely through a clenched jaw.

“We thought he was with you.”

“He could’ve went to bed early,” Ogata suggested.

“Hmmm yeah. I wouldn’t blame him,” you said.

“We should do that,” Shiraishi said, pointing at you. “We have target shooting at seven in the morning.”

You groaned. He was right, a good night’s rest was necessary. It killed you to say good night to Ogata, but there was always tomorrow. You didn’t need to rush things. 

I looked on the disorder of my mind as sacred

You woke up the next morning with a persistent ache near your temples. You rolled out of bed and dug around your suitcase for some ibuprofen. You grabbed four and choked them down with room temperature water. It felt thick as it made its way down your throat. The sun was just starting to rise, the sky a dreamy shade of lavender.

It was weird to wake up alone. You hoped that it would be easier the second time around, but Inkarmat’s absence weighed heavy on you. You couldn’t figure out how she made it to the lake. The last time you saw her she said that she was going to fuck Tanigaki and to cover her ass if needed. She must have gotten lost on her way back from wherever it was she met him. Maybe she took a wrong turn and fell. Or maybe Tsurumi had something to do with it.

“Good morning!!”

Shiraishi’s cheery voice cut through your thoughts. You got up and let him in.

“Tsk, tsk. Still in your pajamas. What am I gonna do with you?”

He handed you an enamel mug full of coffee.

“Tsurumi wants to talk to us in an hour. I ran into him when I was going to take a piss.”

“Did he seem worried?”

“Not really.”

“Weird… I think he has something to do with it. He killed Tanigaki for sure and he probably killed Inkarmat too.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I think Tsurumi poisoned him with hemlock. What we saw lines up with the symptoms he told us when we went mushroom foraging.” Shiraishi didn’t look convinced. “Like do you think this is all a coincidence?”

“Why would he kill him though?”

“People kill without motives all the time.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“Seriously? He’s a creep. Who else would it be?”

“I don’t think it’s a person,” he whispered suddenly. His eyes shifted from left to right. “I think this place is haunted.”

“Oh yeah? Did Inkarmat read some passages out of the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis? Did she release the Deadites? Or maybe the soul of a drowned ex-camper is wandering the woods and picking us off one by one.”

Shiraishi was an idiot. There was no way the camp was haunted. You kicked him out and got dressed. You felt like you were moving in slow motion. You didn’t want to have some group discussion about what happened the day before. You wanted to put it in the past and focus on the kids and their activities. You wanted to finally have a canoe race.

When you walked into the mess hall it was dead silent. You took a seat next to Ogata much to the disappointment of Shiraishi and Sugimoto. There was an empty seat in between them.

“Where’s everyone?” you asked.

“No one’s seen Vasily or Usami since last night. And Koito’s with the kids. We’re just waiting on Tsurumi.”

“What about Nurse Kano?”

“I dunno…”

“Sorry I’m late!” Yūsaku said breathily. His hair was wet and his clothes were haphazardly thrown on.

“We haven’t even started yet,” Ogata groaned. “Sit down.”

Five minutes later Tsurumi came in with Tsukishima following behind like a shadow. He looked tired. His normally neat hair was askew, several strands of hair grazing his face, and his clothes were wrinkled.

“There’s no easy way to begin this discussion. We’re down four counselors. Genjirō and Inkarmat are dead, and apparently some of you are missing. That means there are twelve campers without any supervision.” He pointed at Yūsaku. “Yūsaku, you’re their counselor now. We’re also down a nurse. I received a note this morning from Nurse Kano saying, ‘I’m done with this shit. You’re not paying me enough and if I see you again I’m going to skin you alive.’ Needless to say, I would appreciate it if we kept any and all injuries to a minimum.”

Shiraishi raised his hand. “What if there’s an accident?”

“There won’t be any accidents!”

It was the first time any of you heard Tsurumi raise his voice. He took a deep breath and continued speaking, his tone even.

“The police have been informed about the disappearances. They said,” he sighed, “they’ll keep in touch.”

Sugimoto’s hand shot up. “Mr. Tsurumi, I have a question.”

“Yes, Saichi.”

“Shouldn’t we cancel our activities today and go look for Vasily and Usami?”

“I see no reason to punish innocent children for our failings.”

“Aww,” Shiraishi said quietly. “That’s so sweet.”

“It’s best to leave this up to the authorities. The last thing I want is for one of you to get hurt. We’re short staffed as it is,” Tsurumi said before ending the meeting.

The campers were full of questions, but overall the day was peaceful. Target shooting went well, and the kids loved learning Russian. Whenever Tsukishima wasn’t paying attention Ogata would teach them a few swear words. They lived for it, laughing like hyenas as Tsukishima tried to figure out what was so funny. Things felt kind of normal.

Sugimoto was the one to finally suggest going on a night hike after dinner. He thought Tsurumi was stupid for not utilizing everyone in the search, and it weighed on his mind all day.

“I can’t believe the cops didn’t show up,” he said, turning on his flashlight.

“That’s illegal, right?” Shiraishi asked.

Ogata yawned. “It might be, but they don’t care.”

“Whatever,” Sugimoto said dismissively. “I’ll probably regret saying this, but I think we should split up. We’ll cover more ground.”

“I’ll go with Ogata,” you blurted out.

Sugimoto’s millisecond of confused silence opened a window for Ogata to direct the hastily thrown together operation.

“We'll go further up the mountain and check the trails. You guys stay at this elevation and search the woods. I’m sure they got lost. I’d say let’s bet on it, but I know you’re all broke.”

Shiraishi nodded, but Sugimoto looked annoyed beyond belief. You watched as they melted away into the darkness eagerly awaiting your alone time with Ogata.

“It’s better if we both have one,” he said, handing you a flashlight. “You said my name pretty fast back there.”

Your palms began to sweat. You had been too eager.

“I don’t know,” you said, pushing a low hanging branch out of your face. “Shiraishi’s been getting on my nerves.”

You cringed at your lie. Hopefully Ogata would deem it inconsequential and forget you ever said it.

“Is he really that bad?”

“Uh, well, you know… He—sometimes it’s like he’s just so obnoxious.”

“He is pretty annoying. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“I’m, um, just really good at tolerating people. It’s hard though.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

You were good at hiding it because you loved having Shiraishi as a partner.

“Thank you.”

“It’s too bad we weren’t paired together. Sugimoto’s an asshole,” he sighed.

The two of you walked cautiously down the trail. You grew more and more nervous as it got steeper. Every twig felt like a landmine. You kept your eyes on the ground. It proved to be a terrible idea because you ended up walking right into Ogata. He fell forward, dropping his flashlight.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” you said, cradling him in your arms.

He looked up at you. His forehead and his arms were covered in swaths of raw skin and blood. He tried to get up, but only managed to roll onto the ground. You pulled off your sweatshirt and put it under his head as a makeshift pillow.

You dug through your backpack for your first aid kit. It was nearly empty already because your group of campers loved skinning their knees. You found a few alcohol wipes and some gauze. You wanted to punch your past self for not refilling it, but now wasn’t the time for self-flagellation.

“It’s gonna sting.”

“I’m not a child. You don’t need to remind me.”

“Damn, okay,” you said, cleaning the wound on his head.

“Sorry…” he mumbled.

It was just a superficial scrape, but of course the urge to spiral was present. Despite your attempts to be optimistic your mind went to the worst places. 

I gave him a traumatic brain injury. I cracked his beautiful skull. I killed him and Mr. Tsurumi is going to be so fucking mad at me!

“No. I’m sorry. I’m the idiot that made you fall.”

“Good point. I take back my apology.”

You slapped an alcohol wipe on one of the cuts on his arm. His pained groan was like an angel singing your name.

“What day is it?” you asked, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

“June 8th.”

“What’s the time?”

He paused. “I don’t know. It was around 10 when we left.”

“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Sleepy?”

“No.”

“Do you remember what ha—”

“You shoved me and I fell.”

“Shove makes it seem like it was intentional.”

“It was.”

“No it was not.”

He sat up. “Yes it was. You shoved me because you have a huge crush on me and you can’t stand it.”

“You definitely damaged your brain. Like, you’re so unwell right now. It’s sick.”

He laughed. “Don’t deny it. You can be honest with me.”

“I was looking at the ground! There were exposed roots!”

He pulled his arm away from you and grabbed you by the jaw. “If that’s all it was, why do you look nervous?”

“That’s just my face.”

“It’s a cute one.”

You panicked and tried to think of a cool, couth response, but nothing came. You just sat there, brain filled with white noise. The air was heavy; you felt like you were choking. You kept your breathing steady, but it was a herculean effort. All your energy was going into keeping yourself in one piece. The longer those four words sank in, the harder it was to retain your humanity.

It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one.

Your hesitation evaporated and you clumsily kissed him. Despite his words he seemed unimpressed with your agency, giving nothing in return. And in turn you felt nothing. It was like you were holding him hostage rather than sweeping him off his feet.

“Um, we should… go back to camp.”

The relief you felt upon finding Sugimoto and Shiraishi was immense. However your fellow counselors remained missing. You couldn’t help but feel like you were hunting for ghosts.

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul

Much to the chagrin of Shiraishi, Tsurumi asked you to help Yūsaku and his twelve campers. It wasn’t ideal. Managing kids you weren’t familiar with was rough. They tested you left and right. They relished in lying about their names, snickering when you’d try to chastise them. They seemed to have a modicum of respect for Yūsaku though.

“How’s it going?” Shiraishi asked during your lunch.

“It’s—”

“Well I’m having a terrible time. These kids hate me. They keep asking when you’re coming back.”

You laughed. “Did you tell them never? Because I don’t see Tsurumi letting the golden boy stuck with a bunch of kids on his own.”

“It’s not like he needs you! I’m dying out there!”

“You have Sugimoto.” You sighed. “And Ogata.”

“They’re barely any help. Sugimoto’s too busy trying to solve a murder mystery like he’s Columbo. And Ogata’s too busy being his weird self. I think he’s pissed off at Hanazawa.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know why. Maybe he’s jealous that Hanazawa is—”

“Working with me?” you asked, your eyes full of stars.

“Psh. No. Part of me thinks Ogata just wants to be Tsurumi’s pet.”

 “Oh. No yeah, you’re right.” You stared off into space. “He totally wants to be the golden boy.”

“You’re both wrong.” Ogata silently took a seat next to Shiraishi. Your head was swimming. “I just hate being here.”

“Then why glare at your brother?” Shiraishi asked haughtily.

“Are you an only child, Shiraishi?”

“Probably.”

Ogata smirked and changed the subject. “How is working with him?”

His tone wasn’t threatening, but the flatness of his gaze made you feel like you were being interrogated.

“It’s fine!” you exclaimed a bit too hurriedly. You tried to save face by tempering your tone to match the coolness of Ogata’s. “I mean, yeah, like, it’s okay. The kids like him, which is good because they can’t stand me. I don’t mind him, you know, taking the lead. He is the lead counselor.”

“It looked like he was doing all the work.”

His words were a wasp’s sting.

“You’d be stupid not to take advantage of that dork,” Shiraishi said in an attempt to bandage your wound.

“I’m not taking advantage of him.”

“Shiraishi has a point.”

“No he does not!”

“You can admit it,” Ogata teased.

“There’s nothing to admit. What am I supposed to admit?”

He paused.

“You know you hate being here just as much as everyone else.”

You glared at Ogata. “If I hated being here, I would leave.”

“Sure you would.”

“Yeah! Exactly. I would.”

Shiraishi scurried away awkwardly, though to be honest you barely noticed.

“I don’t know,” he chuckled. “How can you be so sure of something like that?”

“Because—because I know myself? This isn’t, like, some hypothetical thing. If I didn’t want to be here, I would leave. But I’m invested in whatever the fuck is going on… And I like my kids! I care about them! Okay, not the ones I have right now. Honestly fuck those ki—oh god.”

Ogata was trying to hold back a laugh. “Child hater.”

“I don’t hate kids! Even kids that are little shits. I’m just…” You carefully chose your words. “Not fond of some.” You regained your conviction. “Regardless it’s not like I could ever leave any of them behind.”

“It’s so funny.”

You tilted your head, awaiting an elaboration.

“You all say the same thing. The way you say it is different, but—”

“What are you talking about?”

He stood up and patted you on the head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You thought about chasing after him, but there was only ten minutes left of your lunch and you hadn’t even touched your food. You choked it down and searched for Yūsaku. You found him sitting in the grass, telling the kids one of his numerous summer camp tales.

“And that’s how I learned you should never eat mud.”

You joined their circle. “How was the jigen-ryū class?”

“Boring,” one chirped.

“Lame,” another admitted.

“I hate Mr. Koito.” one said bluntly. “Why does he scream so much?”

Yūsaku nervously chastised the kids.

You giggled. “That’s a great question. But I have an even better one: who wants to have a canoe race?”

The kids were eager for normalcy, typical summer fun, and you couldn’t blame them. You sought it yourself. Anything to shake off your conversation with Ogata. You felt like it poked holes in your brain. You hoped in utter desperation that the laughter of children and the afternoon sunlight dancing across Yūsaku’s precious face would fill them.

And for a brief moment they did. But Ogata remained a looming presence. He was so distracting you came dead last in the race. Your eyes couldn’t focus on anything other than him watching from a distance like a hunter.

A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned

You went to bed early that night though you failed to drift away. You were in a fetal position, snuggled up in your sleeping bag, looking up at the Milky Way through your window for hours. You couldn’t get Ogata out of your mind.

“Idiot,” you murmured as you flipped over onto your back, not sure if you were calling him an idiot or yourself.

You stretched out and took up every inch of your bed. Your joints popped, the satisfaction from the sound soothed your soul. There was the chance this was as worse as it would get. Yes, people were dropping like flies, disappearing mysteriously. Yes, the camp director was a blatant freak. Yes, Ogata was fucking with your head. But the canoe race was normal! It was benign and expected! Those moments were few and far between so far. Maybe this was a good omen, a sneak peak of the placidity that was going to follow.

Pretending to be optimistic successfully lulled you to sleep. But rapid, and somehow pathetic, pounding on your cabin door ripped you from your slumber. You groaned audibly, hoping whoever was in desperate need of your attention would feel a semblance of shame. You got out of bed at a sloth’s pace and sighed before opening the door.

“Are you busy?” Ogata asked.

“I was sleeping.”

He gently pushed you out of the way and entered the cabin, a stiffness and urgency embodied in the swift movement. Your grip on consciousness was tenuous at best so you didn’t protest.

“Everything, uh, good?” you asked.

“If I said I wanted to apologize, would you believe me?”

You scoffed. “Not after asking me that.”

He sat down on your bed, and you struggled to hide your disgust. You couldn’t stop thinking about the fetid remnants of the woods that lingered on his sweatpants. Having him take them off crossed your mind.

“Well I am.”

“You’re what?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it… All the stuff I said.”

“You sure about that?”

He attempted to smooth down a strand of his hair. A hoarse mhm resonated in his throat.

“You’re so easy to rile up. I couldn’t resist.”

“Well,” you groaned. “Thanks. I guess.”

You figured he’d get up and leave, but instead his presence lingered, growing heavier by the second. His eyes were restless, his body tense.

“Do you mind if I stay the night?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the floor.

It was such an abrupt question. All you could do was choke out an affirmation. You knew kicking him out was the smart thing to do, but his perceived permanence on your bed overwhelmed you. The rational voice in your head grew fainter, your lust forcing its way through your papery veil of self-preservation. You were nothing more than your repressed urges.

“Are you sure?”

Dumb question. You’d never been so sure of something in your life. You couldn’t recall any form of previous trepidation though you weren’t trying particularly hard to do so.

“Yeah,” you answered, sitting beside him.

You leaned in. His sweatshirt smelled like wet leaves and copper. You used his thigh to steady yourself. He turned his head, his dark eyes looking through you. It was unnerving, but not enough to trigger common sense.

“Aren’t you hot?” you asked, laughing as the question tumbled from your mouth. His answer didn’t matter. “You’re making me sweat.”

You tugged at his sweatshirt. It felt dirty, heavy with sweat and earth. He took it off without a stitch of hesitation. Your eyes trailed down his arms, longing for them to be wrapped around you. It was the only way you’d make it through the night.

“I run cold,” he practically purred.

Cliche comments ran through your head.

That’s so funny because I could totally keep you warm, big boy.

I’m burning up, why don’t you cool me off with your stupid, gorgeous body?

“That’s cool.” Your brain shut down. “I want you.”

Your bluntness seemed to please him. His lips curled into a half smile before he pulled you into a kiss. He wasted no time, pushing his tongue past your teeth. He caressed your cheek as his tongue brushed up against yours, soft and warm. He pulled you onto his lap and rubbed the inside of your thigh with his rough hands. You tugged at his shirt, the cotton damp with sweat. He lifted it up and pulled it off, letting it drop on the floor.

“You should lie down,” you said, breath hot against his neck.

“Am I easier to take advantage of that way?”

“Excuse me?”

Your question went unheeded and he reclined on your bed, beckoning you to straddle him. You looked down at his body, muscles perfectly toned like they were crafted by the gods. He looked so pleased with himself, like he’d won an award. His cock was hard against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. It ached against you.

You studied his face. There were a few faint, red scratches across his cheek. You ran your thumb down one, feeling the slightly swollen skin. He winced.

“What happened?” you asked.

He exhaled. “I fell.”

“Like recently or?”

“On my way over.”

“How?”

His right eye twitched.

“I tripped,” he said, words clipped.

“On what?”

You never knew him to be clumsy, if anything he was rather feline in his agility. His fingers dug deeper into your hips before rolling you onto your back and getting on top of you. He pressed his rough palm over your lips.

“Hush.” His tone was nauseatingly sweet.

“I’m serious, are you okay?” you asked, voice muffled by his hand.

He titled his head and stared into your eyes with a calculated gaze.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be so talkative?”

It was astounding how easy it was for him to shut you down. Granted you weren’t steadfast when it came to Ogata. You couldn’t take a firm stance. How could you hold onto a belief when you couldn’t predict his reaction to it? You wanted to be palatable and if that meant bending like a willow to his incomprehensible will then so be it.

“You’re so cute,” he said, removing his hand. “You’re like a scared deer.”

He lifted up the oversized t-shirt you liked to sleep in and pulled off your underwear. His fingers grazed your folds, coating them in your arousal. You swallowed hard, spit catching in your throat, as he slid them into your cunt. They curled inside you, pressing against your walls. The pressure made your skin tingle.

His gaze was attentive but cold. You felt studied, examined. It bred a twinge of looming uncertainty, one that settled in your stomach. But he didn’t hesitate with a remedy. He pushed his fingers as far as they could go and began fucking you with them. Your concern disappeared as fast as it came. Your eyes glazed over, ensnared by the man looming over you. You tried in vain to hold back your pleased whimpers.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re falling apart so fast.” His lips grazed your lobe.

Apologizing crossed your mind, but you kept your mouth shut. You writhed underneath his weight, rutting up against his fingers as they fucked your slick cunt.

Your hands wandered down his back. His skin was soft and sticky with sweat. You let your fingers trail down his spine before settling on the crest of his ass. You yanked down his briefs and dug your fingers into the taut flesh. He flashed an impish smile and pulled them down, kicking them off. The head of his cock was leaking precum. He tugged on it and bathed in your starved gaze.

“You want me so bad,” he said haughtily. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

You sighed as he jerked himself off. “I feel like I’ll die if you don’t fuck me.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I need you.”

“Then beg for it,” he growled.

“Please. Please fuck me.”

He rubbed his cock up against your folds. “Say my name.”

“Please fuck me, Hyakunosuke. Please. Please. Please.”

He nuzzled your neck and pressed his cocktip against your clit. “More.”

You continued to plead, body aching for him to fuck you. He guided his cock inside you, its girth stretching your tight cunt. He groaned as he pushed it in further. His movements were slow, and he seemed to relish in your whimpering.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded as he thrust into you.

“Really good. Really fucking good,” you babbled.

He let out a pleased sigh and fully submerged his length within you. His tip pressed up against your cervix, sending a shock to your core. You yelped as he pushed against it harder.

“Such a big cock for such a precious little thing.”

His thrusts drove you into the mattress, making your cot creak. His touch wasn’t gentle. He didn’t hesitate to bend your body to his liking, to show off his strength. It was deliciously overwhelming. He laced his fingers in your hair and pulled. He manhandled your legs to get them over his shoulders. You knew his force would leave blooms of bruises on your ankles, bruises you’d have to explain away when your friends inquired about your life after hours.

Being at his will was exciting.

“Do you like getting fucked like a whore?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

He grinned. You wanted to lick his teeth, but settled for hugging his cock with your cunt.

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

His pace quickened and his breathing grew labored. He seemed weakened by his impending climax. His eyes were softer, his words lacked their previous domineering weight. He looked like he was in agony. Seeing him fall apart made your clit throb. It was almost too much. Your body was immersed in euphoria, drowning in an obscene amount of debauched delight. To finally experience something you craved for so long was almost maddening. So many times you dreamt about him lording over your body under the serene light of the moon. And now you were living it out.

You wanted him to come first, to feel his cum flood your cunt, but your body wasn’t on the same page. Your impending climax was bubbling up inside you. Resisting it was a futile feat. What good was it to deny yourself such ecstasy?

“Harder,” you moaned.

He repositioned himself so he could drive his cock deeper in. You felt like you were going to burst. You dug your fingers into your mattress, gripping the tangled up sheets. The feeblest attempt to keep yourself tethered to this world lest you ascend to an Icarus end. Your back arched as a numinous groan crept up from the depths of your being, a simple carnal prayer. A cluster of whimpers followed in its wake.

Every inch of tension melted away as you let your orgasm consume you. You nearly forgot where you were until you heard Ogata’s pained voice.

“Where do you want it?” he asked urgently.

“Inside, inside,” you babbled.

He grimaced and pulled his cock out of your dripping cunt. He straddled your chest and held your head, forcing you to crane your neck. He pushed his cock past your lips and rutted against your face. His touch became gentle, hands almost cradling the base of your skull. He held you like you were fragile, like he could rip you to pieces if he lacked restraint.

“Look up at me,” he groaned as his cum splattered against the back of your throat.

You looked up at him, as he continued to thrust. Spurts of his piquant cum filled your mouth. You thought it would never end. Tears welled up in your eyes as his cum trickled from the corners of your mouth. Once his cock stopped twitching he placed his hand on your forehead and pushed you off. He then rolled over onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Um,” you said, crashing back into reality. 

You hoped no one heard what happened. Your cabin was the one closest to the outskirts of everything, but still. Your cot’s incessant squeaking plagued you. Your breathy moans haunted you. Ogata’s audible grunting was a dark cloud swirling above your head. You missed your fucked out state of mind. You debated on chasing it. You thought about grabbing his semi-erect cock, but the feeling faded from your grasp. It didn’t help that he looked completely dissociated from the situation.

“Hyaku,” you paused, his first name felt too intimate, ”Ogata?”

You rolled over onto your side and placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure,” he said before turning his back to you.

“Okay,” you replied, molding your body beside his.

You expected him to scoot away from you, or retire to the unforgiving floor. But instead he pressed himself up against you. You draped an arm over him and nuzzled your face against his undercut as you drifted away.

Life is the farce we are all forced to endure

Waking up alone wasn’t a surprise though it was still disappointing.

The sun roused you, making you painfully aware of your lack of clothes and the dried cum in the corners of your mouth. Visions of a relaxing shower danced through your mind. You could practically feel the steam surrounding you. However, leaving your cabin was precarious. No one could see you like this, skittering around and clutching your toiletries like they were gold. You’d wither away if perceived.

“I got this,” you whispered to no one in particular.

You stepped out into the morning light. It felt early. You didn’t hear any kids or any sort of chatter which was a relief. The outside world was safe; it was secure. You took a deep breath and took in the fresh air.

“Good morning.”

Your exhale lodged itself in your throat, forcing out a pathetic cough.

“Fuck. I mean good morning, Mr. Tsurumi.”

He looked tired, less triumphant, and part of you wondered if he was going to kill you.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up this early.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be either,” you said, trying to mask your discomfort. “Anyway—”

He interrupted your attempt at a polite getaway. “How well do you know Yūsaku?”

“Uh. I guess about as well as you can know anyone given the amount of ti—”

“Did he seem unhappy? Dissatisfied?”

“That sunburn made him pretty miserable.”

He studied you. “Anything beyond that?”

“I—yeah no, I think that’s, uh, the only thing.”

“I see. Well I won’t keep you any longer.”

You simply smiled and nodded. Once he was out of sight you sprinted to the showers, eager for the cleanly embrace of its solitude. It was exactly what you wanted, what you needed. You needed to wash away whatever that conversation had been. You couldn’t figure out why he was so curious about Yūsaku. Your relationship with him was friendly but superficial. You wouldn’t know how to describe him in any meaningful way if prompted to, but made an attempt anyway.

He’s Ogata’s half-brother. He can tell two different stories about eating mud as a little kid. He sucks at putting on sunscreen. His eyelashes are pretty. He has a general golden boy vibe that is almost insufferably charming.

You knew essentially nothing. Whereas you could write an entire thesis regarding the random facts about Shiraishi you learned against your will.

You spent the entirety of your shower, wracking your brain over the camp director’s questioning. Unfortunately your brain wasn’t operating at full capacity. The night before lingered around you like a ghostly shroud. Your legs were peppered with bruises and your hips were sore. There were so many random aches echoing throughout your body.

By the time you were done the shrill voices of children flooded the camp. You hurriedly made your way back to your cabin, careful to avoid running into anyone. But despite the painstaking  care you took, there was Shiraishi pawing at your door anxiously like a dog.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He didn’t bother answering your question. “They’re sending all the kids home.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yup. A few parents have already come by. Tsurumi wants to sit us all down and talk about what we’re gonna do.”

“We’re all going to leave, right?”

“Well we got all this shit here. The canoes. The food. The giant shogi pieces. All of that needs to get packed up probably. Do you think we’ll still get paid even if there’s no kids to watch?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“I heard something kinda messed up though.” You stepped closer to him and he continued, his voice low. “I overheard Koito saying some shit to Tsukishima about another body being found.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yeah. They left maybe an hour ago. I doubt they’re coming back. I saw them pack—”

“Okay whatever. Whose body?”

Shiraishi shushed you. “Yūsaku’s.”

“Shut up.”

“Tsurumi found him hanging in the forest.”

“Like hanging out, right? With his brother maybe?” you asked desperately.

“Nope.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

“Relax! Maybe I heard wrong.”

You took a measured breath and distanced yourself from this loss. “It makes sense. Tsurumi was asking me about Yūsaku this morning. He wanted to know if Yūsaku was sad or, I don’t know, depressed I guess.”

“Did he seem—”

“No, but not all suicidal people act like outwardly suicidal.”

“So you think he killed himself?”

“Fuck no,” you sneered. “I bet Tsurumi did. That’s why he was asking me about him. He wanted to come up with an alibi, or a reason for Yūsaku to have done something like that.”

Shiraishi looked a little nervous. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s not jump the gun.”

You pushed him away from the door and dropped your stuff off. On the walk to the mess hall you watched as kids crawled into massive minivans and sleek electric cars. They were a resilient bunch. You admired their ability to withstand the trauma murder reaped. It sucked to see them go, but this camp was no place for their kind.

You felt oddly numb in the wake of Yūsaku’s apparent demise, especially as you sat amongst the camp’s dwindling numbers. It was just you, Shiraishi, Sugimoto, Ogata, and that freak Tsurumi. You all sat in a circle around an ashen fire pit, sipping coffee. It was bitter, the acidic taste boring holes through your tongue.

“It pains me to say this,” Tsurumi began.

“We all know about Yūsaku,” Shiraishi yawned.

His lack of tact made you want to crawl into your mug and drown.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to start off with that but…” He sighed. “As you all apparently know Yūsaku is no longer with us.”

“Did he go home?” Ogata asked.

“Shut up,” Sugimoto hissed.

Tsurumi ignored the chatter and continued. You struggled to focus. Your mind drifted off into fantasies of catching the camp director in the act and getting the hero treatment for saving the day. They were fun scenarios to entertain, but deep down you didn’t crave glory or even recognition. You just wanted to be right.

To no one’s surprise Tsurumi managed to convince everyone to stay one more night in order to return the camp to its previous barren state. It was depressing to snuff out the last remnants of the camp’s life, but necessary so Tsurumi could get back his security deposit. It was impressive to see how impermanent everything was. What took a week to create was dismantled within a day, a notion that haunted you to no end. You hated to think everything was so transient. It beckoned you to hold on tighter to your memories, to the bonds you fostered. If they were going to be ripped away, they would be marred with ghostly reminders of your feral grip.

Throughout the day you orbited around Ogata, searching for tasks that required you to be near him. Despite your attempts to be discreet, anyone with a brain could see your passive clinginess. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to ask if he was okay, but you didn’t want to risk an awkward conversation. When you finally built up the confidence to speak to him he was swept away by a bored sheriff wearing mirrored sunglasses.

“Wonder what they’re talking about,” Shiraishi said, startling you.

“Yūsaku obviously,” you scoffed as you swept the porch of a cabin. “Whatever. It’s not like I care.”

He laughed loud enough to grab the attention of the sheriff. Ogata was undisturbed.

“I feel bad for him.”

“Yeah?”

Shiraishi frowned. “Yeah, like his brother’s dead. He’s a total weirdo with no friends. And he’s short.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re shorter than him.”

“I am, but I’m sexy and have friends.”

Ogata was sexy, but you opted to keep that to yourself.

“Okay, and?” you said bristling with annoyance. “Go bother someone else.”

“I actually had a reason for bugging you. Sugimoto wants to make s’mores tonight because we have a bunch of marshmallows. I was thinking we could turn it into a mini party.”

“A final hurrah.”

“Exactly!” he said as he walked away.

S’mores and cold beer sounded nice, but not nearly as nice as another night with Ogata. You watched as he stared lazily at the sheriff, his posture loose and mildly defiant. He wasn’t naive enough to believe Yūsaku hung himself. He must have caught onto how strange Tsurumi was. There was no way he hadn’t. He was perceptive. You couldn’t help but feel as though you were kindred spirits.

When the sheriff finally left you decided to approach him.

“Hey,” you said gently. “I just wanted to, you know…uh. I’m really sorry about your brother.”

“Why? Did you make him kill himself?” he said, his gaze friendly yet cold.

You laughed and shifted uncomfortably.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay. Is there anything I can do?”

“Hmm. I don’t know.” He closed the distance you kept. “How far are you willing to go to comfort me?”

“A normal amount. If you need to talk or anything, I don’t mind listening.”

“Would you mind choking on my cock again? I found that to be very soothing.”

Ogata’s words were grotesque rather than alluring. You couldn’t help but feel like he was just trying to scare you off. His vulgarity lacked any sort of intensity. The threat was hollow. You swallowed hard and tried to look less timid.

“Don’t be an asshole. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You patted his shoulder with a platonic, heavy hand and headed off in a random direction. You were too frazzled to think that far ahead, but you walked into the woods with faux confidence.

All filthy memories fade out

You sighed in relief as the sun sunk into the horizon. Making s’mores and getting drunk by a fire sounded like the only suitable end for such a horrific venture. Shiraishi and Sugimoto met you by your cabin and aided you in crafting a fire pit.

“It’s so fucked up we never made these with the kids,” Sugimoto sighed, puncturing three marshmallows with a two-pronged skewer specially made for the act.

You sipped your beer. “We failed them.”

Shiraishi nodded. “We may be the dream team, but we weren’t perfect.”

“The what?!” Sugimoto struggled not to laugh as he crafted a picturesque s’more.

“Wh—who? Who’s the dream team?” you asked.

“Us! Me, you, and Sugimoto… obviously.”

“I had no idea.”

“I never said it out loud until now,” Shiraishi said solemnly.

It was hard to deny. The chaos that was camp proved to be a great conduit for bonding despite the horrors. You never would have made it through without Shiraishi’s humor and Sugimoto’s kindness.

“Dream team, huh?” Sugimoto said with a smile blooming across his face.

You punched Shiraishi in the arm. “Cute. I like it.”

Shiraishi blushed and shifted his gaze to the case of beer.

“How does the dream team feel about shotgunning some beers?”

Shotgunning some beers turned into shotgunning several. Stabbing the cans and chugging like your life depended on it was addicting. By the end of it you were all in a hazy trance. You collapsed down into your chair with too much vigor, sending yourself backwards into the dirt. You cackled like a witch.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” Sugimoto asked. He was unable to hide his amused smile.

He held out his hand and hoisted you up. Shiraishi watched on, tears in his eyes, and stabbed another beer with his pocket knife. Beer spurted out of the hole and it sprayed all over. A dramatic “noooooooooo!" erupted from him as he tried in vain to suckle the rest of the beer out of the can. Sugimoto could barely hold himself together and lost his balance, sending you back into the unforgiving dirt and landing directly on you. His body was so heavy you thought you were going to suffocate. Luckily he rolled off of you within a second, wheezing with laughter.

The comedy of errors was too much. Not a single one of you went unscathed.

“I’m so sorry,” Sugimoto choked out.

You stood up and brushed the dust off of your body. “It’s okay. I’m alive. I made it. I survived.”

“You know,” Sugimoto said, still sitting in the dirt. “I’m really gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll have to meet up again before summer ends.”

Shiraishi wiped the beer from his lips. “That’s assuming we live.”

“Dude! Not funny.” Sugimoto threw an empty can at Shiraishi. It missed.

“I’ll probably die next,” you replied thoughtfully. “Tsurumi’s gonna catch on and have to silence me.”

“Stop!”

Shiraishi corrected you. “No, no. It’ll be me.”

“Yeah, you know what. It’ll be Shiraishi, and then you. And then me.”

Shiraishi pouted. “What makes you so sure you’ll live the longest?”

“I’m immortal, dumb ass.”

“If you’re immortal, why not protect us?” you suggested.

“Yeah!”

“I’ll obviously do that! That goes without saying!”

You looked at him, doe-eyed. “Promise?”

He stood up, his balance shakier than ever. It didn’t inspire much confidence in his ability to protect you, but you chose to believe in his conviction.

“As long as I am here, neither of you will die. I… I love you guys s—so much.”

“Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry. And I hate crying in the woods.”

You heard rustling in the distance. Sugimoto and Shiraishi didn’t seem to notice so you chalked it up to your intoxication. You focused your attention on the delightful little bars of artisan chocolate Yūsaku bought for the kids. Your stomach had been growling, begging for something other than beer.

“Gimme the stick thingy,” you barked at Sugimoto.

“Is that any way to ask me for something?”

“You’re talking like a caveman.”

You groaned. “Please give me a, uh,” you gestured towards the skewer resting at Sugimoto’s feet, “that item. Please, good sir.”

Shiraishi applauded your efforts like a real friend and spoke words of affirmation as you struggled to make a s’more. Neither of them stepped in to help you. They appeared to find your tribulation much too entertaining, and you were much too drunk to ask for assistance. However you managed to make four. The sloppiness didn’t detract from the flavor which was all that mattered.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Shiraishi said. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m tired.”

Sugimoto stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Yeah, I have a long drive tomorrow. I’m not trying to fall asleep at the wheel.”

It was almost painful to part ways. A little sliver of you was afraid to enter your cabin on your own. You knew there was no reason to be scared. It wasn’t as if Tsurumi was hiding inside, waiting for the perfect opportunity to stab you. There was no way he could have snuck past you, Shiraishi, and Sugimoto. One of you would have seen him, or at the very least heard him.

Your heart began to pound. You had heard something lurking about in the woods. It very well could’ve been him. Maybe you were too drunk to be vigilant and maybe Tsurumi took advantage of that. Your hand trembled as you reached for the doorknob. Your fear was heavy and looming. It was like you were slowly being crushed. Every inhale felt like it was catching in your throat. You slowly twisted the knob and pressed your weight up against the door.

“Hello?” you asked as if an assailant would actually respond.

You flipped the switch and your room was filled with soft, incandescent light. There was no one in sight, not a soul. The relief you felt was almost overwhelming. Your terror was replaced by a pleasant drowsiness. Sleeping through the night with no interruptions wouldn’t be a pipe dream.

And it seemed to be going along quite well…

Until you had to pee of course. The urge hit you like a truck. You sprung up out of bed and ran all the way to the bathroom, hoping you’d make it in time. You regretted drinking so much. If it hadn’t been for the beer you might have gotten an uninterrupted six hours.

Luckily you made it to the bathroom in time, but on your walk back you became keenly aware of the fact you were still quite drunk.

“Ughhhhhhhhhhh,” you moaned as you trudged back.

You passed Tsurumi’s cabin and it triggered a deep desire to indulge in some snooping. Moonlighting as a drunk detective seemed like an incredible idea.

There were no lights on in his cabin, which wasn’t odd considering it was the middle of the night. But everything seemed vaguely ominous given your state of mind and your desire to prove he was the murderer. You peeked in his window and saw him sleeping. He was face down, body spread out like a starfish.

“What a freak.”

“You’re the one watching him sleep.”

You spun around and saw Ogata. You opened your mouth to scream but he covered it. His hand was damp and smelled like soap. He looked unkempt, and seemed a little frazzled.

“I can explain,” you whispered.

“Are you drunk?”

“Maybe. Listen!”

He shushed you and grabbed you by the wrist. He dragged you away from Tsurumi’s window.

“Can I talk now?” You didn’t wait for an answer. “I think Tsurumi is killing everyone.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “What makes you so sure—”

“He’s a total fucking weirdo, Ogata! He, you know, like… Okay, I don’t have solid proof. But he did ask me about your brother. He was like ‘Ohhh, do you think Yūsaku was suicidal? Did he seem like a little sad boy with little sad boy problems?’ And I was like, ‘No.’ And he was like all… whatever.” You hiccuped. “Why would he ask me that if he wasn’t trying to find a way to cover up his crime?”

“You did work with Yūsaku. I don’t think it’s weird that Tsurumi would ask you about him. If I were him, you would be one of the first people I’d talk to.”

“Ogataaaaaaaaaa,” you whined. “Don’t be a shit.”

“All I’m saying is the two of you seemed close.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“I think he had a crush on you,” he teased.

“He didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t blame him for having one.”

You gave up on protesting. It wasn’t like he was actually listening to you. You turned your gaze towards the ground. It was then you noticed what looked like rusty stains on his shoes.

“You really shouldn’t wear white shoes.”

He looked confused.

“Yours are always s—so dirty.”

He stared down at his shoes and smiled. “I like them this way.”

You shrugged. “Anyway. I think Tsurumi poisoned Tanigaki with mushrooms.”

“What about Inkarmat? Usami? Vasi—”

“When did they find Usami and Vasily?!”

He paused. “They didn’t. I thought maybe you had an explanation for them going missing.”

“Oh. No. I haven’t really thought about them. Is that fucked up?”

“A little, but I like it when you’re fucked up.”

He leaned in and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You tried to let yourself fall into the moment, to let yourself be enraptured by him once more. But you felt uneasy. A part of you was screaming at you to stop. Your entire body tensed up and you pushed him away.

“Not here,” you sighed.

“Why not?” he said, rubbing the small of your back.

“What if someone sees?”

“There’s no one to see us.”

With your luck Shiraishi and Sugimoto would see you wrapped up in Ogata’s arms and never let you live it down. A greater horror would be Tsurumi catching you. He would have no issue disposing you.

Ogata didn’t share this concern. He simply shoved his fingers down your shorts and rubbed your clit through your underwear.

“You don’t need to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I don’t want to get caught.”

“Hmm,” he purred as he nuzzled his face in your neck. “Getting caught could be fun. We could finally reveal our true nature.”

His wording puzzled you.

“Wait, what true nature? That we’re fucking?” you asked.

“Don’t play dumb.”

He let his fingers graze your cunt. His touch was hypnotic. You felt like you were melting in his arms. The world around you faded away, your concerns were nonexistent. Everything was a distraction queued for destruction. He kissed your neck, his stubble tickling you. You felt his teeth graze your skin. A smile crept across your face as he bit into it. Your knees buckled as he bit down a little harder. Your head was spinning.

“I need to taste you,” he said against your neck, pulling down your clothes.

The night air was brisk against the skin of your ass. He kissed the nape of your neck as he hands traveled down your waist, stopping at the dip of your hips. He got on his knees and stared up at you, eyes dark with ardor, before giving your clit a languid lick.

He lapped at your cunt like a starved animal. It was like he was trying to consume you. You felt so desired, so adored. His tongue was dizzying. You nearly lost your balance as he buried his face in between your thighs. He grunted and gripped your ass to steady you.

You gasped as he dug his fingers deeper into your skin. His sweetness was always tinged with a little cruelty. You felt like you were falling in love with him whenever he was rough with you. Your pleasure seemed endless. It was something to get lost in. He shielded you from the tragedy that had overtaken your life.

You ran your fingers through his hair. “You’re so good at this.”

“I know,” he groaned.

His haughtiness was unfortunately warranted. He could work wonders with his mouth. He rolled his tongue against your throbbing clit. Your knees trembled as your orgasm began to bloom. You tried to speak but all you could do was whimper his name. You felt like you were floating away.

Moaning soon became the only thing you were capable of doing. Your body was limp and swollen with lust. The only reason you were upright was because of Ogata’s steadying grip.

“Are you really going to come already?” he teased.

“Yes!” you choked out.

He held your clit between his lips and sucked. Your head rolled back and you murmured a string of obscenities. Euphoria wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the heights you were ascending to. You drenched his face with your arousal as your orgasm echoed through you.

“Sor—”

Your demure apology was interrupted by a pained moan coming from the distance. You crashed back down to earth.

“Did you hear that?” you asked.

Ogata didn’t respond. He simply stood up and wiped his chin.

“Let me walk you back to your cabin.”

“Uh, yeah sure. But did you hear that? It sounded like a person.”

“I didn’t hear anything. Your paranoia is getting the best of you.” He grabbed you by the hand. “Come on.”

He didn’t say a single word on the walk back. He didn’t even look at you. You felt like a ghost.

“Thanks… for escorting me.”

“It’s no problem,” he said with a smile.

You were convinced you would never fully understand him, that he would always keep you on your toes. And maybe that was the appeal. It was a danger you didn’t mind dancing with, something low stakes in comparison to people getting fucking murdered.

With my eyes closed I offered myself to the sun

It was your final day and you jumped at the opportunity to interrogate Tsurumi. It didn’t matter if you were the only one that thought he was the cause of all the camp’s calamity. The lack of faith from your friends didn’t deter you in the least. You knew you were right and soon everyone else would know as well.

“What the?”

You saw a heap in the distance, something keeled over just beyond the trees. The sun sliced through them, drowning whatever it was in unforgiving light. You heard the faint buzzing of flies and your stomach dropped. The familiar sensation of spit pooling in your mouth triggered a lethal anxiety within you.

Every step you took made you more and more nauseous. A horrid smell swarmed your nostrils. You couldn’t help but gag.

“No,” you said quietly, looking down at the heap.

It was Sugimoto, face down. His arms were stretched in front of him, fingers caked with dirt.

“Saichi, get up.” You squatted beside him. A prayer circle of jet black ants surrounded his body. “Get up. You’re supposed to keep me and Shiraishi safe, remember?”

There was no hope and yet you tried to hold onto it. You wanted to roll him over, thinking maybe you could rouse him. You saw it in movies all the time, the classic fake-out death trope. You’d slap him around, maybe yell and cry a bit, and his eyes would flutter open. He would apologize for worrying you and you’d tease him for how rank he smelled.

“Oh fuck!” you screamed as you rolled him onto his back.

His chin was coated with dried blood. His stomach had been cut open, entrails butchered and hanging out. You looked just beyond his body and saw a trail of blood and intestines. You started to sob. Sugimoto didn’t deserve to suffer such a heinous demise. Why couldn’t Tsurumi have just killed him outright? Why did he have to exercise his will with such cruelty? You hated him and his flagrant barbarity. Your rage washed over you. The desire to throw yourself over his mauled body and wail was extinguished.

“I’m so sorry,” you cooed, stroking his hair. “Tsurumi’s not getting away with this.”

In order to properly avenge Sugimoto you needed Shiraishi, but you didn’t even know if Shiraishi was alive. You grabbed Sugimoto’s pocket knife and bolted to Shiraishi’s cabin. You kicked the door in and all you saw was an unmade bed, empty bags of marshmallows, and all of his belongings scattered around an empty duffle bag.

You kept running out of sheer desperation, searching Shiraishi’s usual haunts to no avail. He must have been killed too, another counselor disappeared by that freak Tsurumi.

Your bravado began to melt away. The more you thought about it the more you realized you likely couldn’t hold your own against Tsurumi. You were nothing without the dream team.

There was always Ogata, but if Sugimoto was slain by Tsurumi with such ease then Ogata didn’t stand a chance. You were enshrouded in a sinking loneliness. It made every step an ordeal but you continued your march to Tsurumi’s cabin.

Your head was swimming by the time you got there. You didn’t even notice the door was already open. As you stepped inside you heard a series of loud, wet thwacks.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

Ogata stood over Tsurumi’s twitching body, bashing in his skull with the butt of his own shotgun. Pale foam seeped from his parted lips. You watched in horror as his face gradually became unrecognizable carnage with each of Ogata’s blows.

“Why?” you squeaked.

“What do you mean why? I did this for you.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“Yes it is. You thought he was killing all your friends and it bothered you enough that you whined to me about it.”

“I didn’t tell you those things because I wanted you to kill him! Fuck! Now the cops are going to think you killed everyone!”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at you. You froze in place like a deer in front of a speeding truck. He looked gutted.

“I did kill everyone.”

You bursted into laughter. “No you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Stop it! No you didn’t!”

He stepped over Tsurumi’s corpse, gun still in his hand. You backed out the door, trying to keep distance.

“Yes I did,” he said. In the sunlight you saw how much of Tsurumi’s blood ended up on him. He was dappled with crimson splotches. “That’s why you told me about Tsurumi. You wanted him gone and you knew I’d take care of it.”

Your mouth was agape. You refused to believe him.

“You—you’re not serious. Please tell me you’re not serious. Please.”

“I’m se—”

“No! Shut up! You didn’t do it. You didn’t do any of it. You… You couldn’t. Right? Right?!”

His disappointment was palpable.

“Why are you acting like this? You knew what you were doing when you talked to me about him.”

“I never said I wanted you to kill him! I never fucking said that!”

“Stop screaming. I’m right here.”

Your eyes were becoming glassy. Tears were imminent. 

“I never said that,” you said quietly.

“You didn’t have to. I knew what you wanted. We see things the same way. You hated all of them as much as I did.”

“What? I didn’t hate any of them.”

“Oh so you liked Usami?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”

He sighed heavily. “You don’t need to pretend anymore. They’re all gone.”

“Pretend? I’m not pretending.”

“Drop the act. I didn’t mind it before, but now there’s no reason for you to hide yourself from me.”

Everything was spinning around you. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was absurd for him to think you harbored as much hatred as he did. Sure, some of your fellow counselors got on your nerves, but being annoying wasn’t a death sentence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not hiding anything.”

He tried to pat down his unruly lock of hair. “So you’re saying I’m wrong? You’re nothing like me?”

“Yes! I could never dream of being as monstrous as you! How fucked up do you have to be to decide you can just kill people for, I don’t know, being annoying or stupid or whatever?”

“It’s not like I intended on killing everyone. I just wanted Yūsaku gone, but then I caught Tanigaki and Inkarmat 69ing by the lake and it spiraled from there.”

“Th—that’s why you killed them?”

“It was disgusting, okay.”

“Was it more disgusting than what we did?”

He glared at you. “What we did wasn’t disgusting. Tanigaki and Inkarmat didn’t actually care about each other.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They barely knew each other. You can’t like someone that much after, what, a week?”

“Does that mean we don’t like each other?”

“No!” He took a measured breath and regained composure. “It’s different with us. You know me. You understand me.”

“I don’t understand you at all.”

“But you were… so nice to me.”

Neither of you spoke. The only sound was the wind cutting through the trees. You thought back to old conversations you had with him and tried to see where your ignorance blinded you. There were plenty of times you should have known it was Ogata, but you were so caught up in blaming Tsurumi for everything.

It was hard to reconcile the man you had your heart set on was a cold blooded killer. You wanted your feelings to subside, but they remained despite his horrendous crimes. Part of you needed to fix him, to save him from himself. Maybe if you had caught on sooner you could have stopped him. There were so many what-ifs running through your mind you almost forgot where you were.

“Did it not mean anything to you?” he asked.

“What?”

“Being nice to me. Was it an obligation?”

“No. I think… most people deserve kindness.”

“Even someone like me?”

You tried to ignore the shotgun in his hand. “Yes… especially you, Hyakunosuke.”

“After everything I’ve done?”

“Ye—yes.”

“Liar.”

He aimed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger. You tried to catch him in your arms, but you weren’t strong enough to carry that weight. You fell to your knees and cradled him. His face was nothing but an open wound. You wept as his blood seeped into your clothes.

“You were never an obligation.” 

You wiped away your tears and got his blood in your eye. It burned, but it was nothing compared to the sinking feeling in your heart.

“Holy shit!!”

Shiraishi came barrelling out of the woods. His lip was busted and he had dried blood under his nose.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?” 

Shiraishi kneeled in front of you. You looked down and noticed his hand was resting in what used to be Ogata’s face.

“Shiraishi, your hand.”

He fell backwards and kicked himself away from Ogata’s corpse. He wiped his hand in the dirt.

“He, uh, didn’t hurt me. I’m fine… I thought you were dead.”

“Nah. I just let him beat the shit out of me and pretended to be dead. I didn’t think he’d fall for it. Have you seen Sugimoto?”

“He… he didn’t make it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Shiraishi helped move Ogata off of you. He looked horrified once he saw how much of Ogata’s blood had ended up on you. The coppery scent was impossible to ignore.

You were thankful Shiraishi was still alive. He took charge for a change, deciding your best course of action was to go to the mess hall and contact the authorities. It wasn’t until you got there that he realized his phone was dead. You both sat in silence as it charged.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked after checking his battery life.

You nodded.

“Did you like Ogata?”

You didn’t want to admit it. You couldn’t imagine a world where Shiraishi would understand the complexity of your feelings. He never liked Ogata in the first place.

You tried to slaughter the sentimental romantic inside you. You thought about how mean Ogata could be, the awful things he’d say to you. You thought about Sugimoto and how he tried to drag himself to your cabin despite being gutted like a fish.

“No,” you scoffed. 

Ogata was right. You were a liar.

[untimelybones]

tiiiiny sketch of the Ogata in my fic as of now 😎👍

[themesis]

[zorionbbq]

"The morning lit his bedroom with tepid lilacs. Wherever light could reach, there were bulging cabinet handles, sallow sheets, flattened carpets; where it couldn’t, there was nothing at all. The pale spots of life, surrounded by pitch-black pits and corners, looked like a poorly printed photograph."

fanart for @cleveradjacent's fic "This Weapon Wants"! :^]

[grand-line-shenanigans]

Yippee!!

[basilknell]

Usual Vasily dump.

History behind the first piece: Just before the mid 1800s it was popular for cavalry men (hussars) in Russia to wear earrings. There's a lot of letters requesting superiors to make their men stop it, funny. Vasily would look cute in a pair, even if it's anachronistic.

[every-ogata]

I refuse to believe Ogata is as muscular as Noda draws him. He spends most of his time sitting

I'm going to answer this one seriously cause I actually have thoughts on this. I agree about him not being as muscular but he doesn't just sit around. Firing a rifle actually requires core strength, you need it to properly aim and fire with accuracy. We know he's a good marksman, so it'd make sense his core is strong.

He also literally treks across Hokkaido and then some carrying military gear. The Type 30 was almost 9 pounds; that alone would give him a light workout, but also think about the rest of his gear! Japanese soldiers carried equipment that was around 52lbs heavy.

I just don't think he'd have a six pack, but it makes sense that he is strong. Though, Satoru Noda is allowed to draw his men as caked up as he wants. As a treat.

[kkachi-rkcl]

WIP Excerpt (my fave bit is under the cut)

Fandom: Golden Kamuy

Ship: Ogata X female!Reader

Context: You are a doctor for the 7th division and were in charge of Ogata’s recovery after his fight with Sugimoto. The two of you are on the run after being discovered as traitors to Lt. Tsurumi

———

“Ogata,” you say again, pairing it with some light taps on his arm. He stirs this time. His head lolls lazily to the side to blink at you through half-lidded eyes. “Dawn is breaking. We should get moving soon.” His hair is slightly mussed where it rubbed against the tree trunk. You resist the urge to reach out and fix it.

You watch closely as he yawns, looking for any signs of pain. You think his jaw quivers slightly as it stretches, and this time your hand reaches out before you can stop yourself. He blinks when your fingers touch his cheek, his eyes snapping over to watch you, but he makes no further move to stop you or move away.

“How does it feel?” you ask. Your fingers trace down the scar and gently palpate along his jawbone.

“It’s fine.” You wait to see if he will elaborate. He doesn’t. Of course.

You move to crouch between his legs and take his face in both hands, turning his head this way and that, inspecting your handiwork. In the cool light of dawn, you can see more clearly than when you rendezvoused last night. His bruises had faded weeks ago, leaving only the barest trace of swelling lingering around the fresh pink scar lines. It was easy to forget when he was shrouded in bandages, but Ogata really does have an excellent jawline.

“You’re rather bold for a woman alone in the wilderness,” Ogata says flatly, his voice vibrating through your fingertips as they drift down the muscles of his neck.

“I’m not alone. I’m with you.” Your eyes drift back up to meet his, deep pools of inky black.

“You know what I mean.” His hand comes up to your knee, eyes boring into yours all the while as his fingers move slowly along your thigh.

You repress the shiver that threatens to run down your spine. “Ogata Hyakunosuke. I have brought you back from the brink of death, cold and naked on an operating table. My fingers have been within your flesh while you were at your most vulnerable, and the marks of my touch will stay with you forever.” Your fingers trace his collarbones as you lean closer, and your lips ghost over the scars you created. “I am not afraid of you, and if you wanted to do the same to me, I would let you.”

His hands have drifted all the way to your hips and stop there, unmoving. His pulse is steady beneath your lips and you can’t help but smile as you nip his neck. The sniper’s composure is truly admirable. “But,” you add, pulling back to land a quick peck on his nose, “the time and place could probably be better.”

Ogata scoffs, but lets his hands slip off your hips as you stand up and walk over to your pack. He smooths his hair back with a smirk and it’s not long before the two of you are on your way again, your shadows shrinking behind you as you continue east.

———

Author’s Note: I probably haven’t written reader insert fic in 15 years, but this feral cat boy has given me toxoplasmosis and the brainworms ate my cringe filter.

[11chasty11]

my real expierence reading This weapon wants

i'm weak.

[mrs-bluemarine]

Warm on a Cold Night

YHE UKCING GUY OF ALL TIME

Draw me like one of your German girls. Divider credit goes to @!cafekitsune!

Pairing: Vasily x Franziska

WC: 3k

Notes: Fluff :3 wound kissing, my favorite, and Franziska nearly freezes to death y'know the usual

The moment she and her group took one step out of Russia, it seemed that all hell broke loose.

Winds were howling, snow was getting picked up and thrown in everyone's faces. It was hard to see three feet ahead of you in a storm like this, however they pushed on. Everybody tried to stick together, tried to yell through the wind to communicate, but for someone like the German woman, who never had the luck of finding herself in a growing blizzard, she was falling behind.

Ice stung her eyes, her vision becoming blurry. It felt like any longer out there and her tears would freeze in her eyes. The wind only pushed her backwards despite all she tried. Inside of her hazy vision, black figures became mere specks, disappearing into the storm, and her heart dropped. Where did the rest go?

The blonde looked left and right. She couldn’t hear a damn thing over the howling wind, it stole her voice when she tried to call out. Sugimoto, Asirpa, Siraishi… She even called out for the hooded man, but there wasn’t anyone to be found.

The blonde stopped in her tracks. Was she lost?

No… If she kept moving forward, she’d find something, wouldn’t she? Everyone has to just be up ahead, but with every step forward she took it felt like the wind pushed her back six. She tried her best to keep a positive face as she carried on, but something kept whispering in her ear. This wasn’t the end for her, was it?

Something captured her frozen hand, something big and warm. A mitten-wrapped palm. Her eyes traveled up the arm to find it attached to a familiar body, finding familiar eyes.

The Russian man pulled her close to his chest as he wordlessly began guiding her to the left. Within the pure whiteness surrounding them, something came into focus. A wall of darkness overcame her vision as the sniper continued guiding her closer.

A cave! He’s seriously found a cave in this mess?

The hole in the wall of rock was rather shallow, but big, and it did its job by protecting them from the icy wind. Seeing some dead foliage and tree branches gave her the idea for a fire. Instincts kicked in. Never before had she found herself in a blizzard, but she knew damn well how to make a fire. She immediately got to work collecting all the leaves and dry twigs she could find in a small pile in the middle of the cave. The Russian sniper watched silently.

Trembling hands rummaged through her pockets, finding a wooden matchbox with a measly amount of match sticks left to bounce around in their case.

Soon, a soft orange glow illuminated her face. Warmth spilled into her hands, warming her reddened cheeks and her frozen bones, and the blonde sighed in relief. The sniper came over to sit on the opposite side of the fire. A soft sigh of his own rumbled from underneath his hood as his eyes closed in quiet contentment. A moment passed where neither did anything except soak in the heat.

“Thank you.” His blue eyes looked away from the fire.

The woman opposite to him began caressing her match box, her thumb following the grooves carved into the old wood absentmindedly as fire sparked inside of her dark eyes. They reminded the Russian of the sea at night. He thought they were beautiful.

“I would have probably ended up dead had you not found me… so, thank you.”

He raised his hand to stop her, deflecting her praise, and she laughed softly.

His eyes watched her thumb move. The creature on the wooden box wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. He was sure it was an animal, curling around itself in a confusing way, unsure of where it began and where it ended. The German noticed his intrigued stare, and she offered him the match box. “Want a look?” He took it carefully from her, listening intently as she told him about the trinket. “It belonged to my father. The creature on the box is a dragon.”

She took a pause, “Um, dra-gon. It breathes fire.”

He nodded along, suddenly getting an idea. He gave the box back, quickly finding his bag to take out something; pencil and paper. The redhead scribbled something down, then turned the paper around and pointed at a Russian word he wrote with his pencil. “Ah, let me see… zmeya..? Snake? Well, it is pretty snake-like!”

The man tried doodling the creature underneath its name, failing miserably, still not understanding what was a tail or what was a wing or face. It came out as a jumble of rings and circles, which amused the German woman. He began drawing again, moving away to hide it from her. Then he proudly showed off his monstrous creation; a creature with claws and ferocious teeth with batty wings, multiple heads twisting around each other with scary faces. “That’s certainly one hell of a dragon!” He seemed to take pride in how his drawing affected her. He began writing something else.

“Oye, I’m not too good at reading Russian! I can try my best, but…”

It was another single word. “Let me think… This would make a ‘V’ sound. Vas…. Vasily?” She looked up at him. Since when did they get so close? “Is that your name?”

Pleased, he nodded, and she grinned. “There we go! Vasily…” She repeated it again, and the sniper was terribly afraid that he enjoyed how she said it.

The blonde lightly took his pencil, beginning to write on her own next to his name. “I'm not quite sure how to write in Russian…” She said quietly. His writing was neat and tidy. Her's was smaller, with elegant swirls in her letters that made it look like art, and reminded Vasily of the dragon on her match box.

She finished with curt “a”, giving back his pencil. “...You've probably heard the others calling me ‘Franz’. I guess it is easier for them to say. My full name is Franziska.”

Franziska.

Vasily wanted to repeat it, give it the same affectionate treatment she gave his own name. How unfortunate for him to be stuck in this state.

Suddenly finding the short distance between them uncomfortable, Franz sat back, looking away shyly. Vasily didn't seem to mind, or realize just how close he was. He placed the piece of paper with his doodle and their names on it aside, and began drawing something else. She gave him more space, allowing him to create more art in peace. She watched, this time from the opposite side of the fire.

Evening turned to night, and the storm raged on with no signs of stopping any time soon. The moon illuminated the ice and snow with blue light, giving the cold forest an otherworldly feeling to it. Inside their solitude, paper began to litter the ground. Piece by piece filled with whatever it was the sniper was drawing. Franz couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t curious, but she knew better than to sneak a peek, even if her curiosity wanted her to.

A comfortable silence overcame them as she watched him create. There was a soft furrow in his brow, his eyes staring intensely at his paper. Seeing him so focused… It was charming. For someone so masterful with such an intimidating weapon, she never expected him to be interested in something as delicate as art. He was a skillful hand at that. From far away, she could see one of his sketches. A bird, what species it was, Franz couldn’t say for certain. The realism in his lines was impressive, however… She couldn’t help but notice that it was the only paper facing up. Yes, the rest were placed kissing the ground, so she couldn’t see what it was he was making. It made her curiosity even worse, but she forced it down.

By chance, their eyes meet again. The ocean met the sky. And almost embarrassed, Vasily immediately looked back down, and Franziksa was taken by surprise. His pencil moved even more furiously, pretending as if nothing happened, when an idea dawned in Franz’ mind; was he drawing her?

The idea flustered her. Being the centerpiece of a work of art… Oh, how childish she was, indulging in such fantasies!

She wordlessly began taking off her coat, finding it suddenly too warm to wear it. Vasily paused to watch her body stretch and twist until she neatly placed the article of clothing to the side. Franziska huffed out a sigh of relief once her body was free of the tight wear. Really, that tall collar nearly felt suffocating. Her eyes opened as she brushed back some strands of hair loose from her ponytail. She realized he was staring, and she smiled.

Well… Would it hurt to at least… tease the idea? On second thought, it may.

“Drawing me?”

Vasily stiffened. The woman chuckled softly, watching him shuffle in place and look away.

She rested both of her hands on the ground, leaning backwards slightly. With a light lift in her tone she asked sincerely; “Would you like a new angle?”

Her words caught his attention. Reluctantly, he looked back, eyes widening at the sight. The look in her eye was teasing, but inviting, and Vasily felt his hand moving on its own. The first piece of paper joined the rest, and his pencil touched down. Seeing him begin to draw again, Franziska turned her nose, putting on a placid face for his picture.

She wasn't sure how long it took. Her arms were beginning to tire, however she refused to move, wanting to be the perfect reference for the artist.

Vasily on the other hand took care of every press of his pencil. Every line and curve was delicate, but deliberate. The features of her's he enjoyed the most were given special attention to make sure they looked perfect; her eyes, the curve of her nose, the way the fire bounced off of her cheeks, her hair cascading over her shoulder like a subdued waterfall of golden sunlight. Vasily felt an overwhelming presence telling him that every detail needed to be perfect.

After what seemed like hours for the reference and mere minutes for the artist, Vasily's pencil stopped “Finished?” Franz asked. He almost seemed reluctant to show her.

“Come on,” She purred, crawling closer. “Don’t be a tease…”

Slowly, Vasily offered the blonde his sketch, and she took it gratefully and carefully. Her blue eyes scanned over every inch, widening as she noticed every detail.

Her face pointed away, a side view of her head, her body half resting, half perched on her hands. Lord, he even added the highlight of the fire underneath her cheek. Every press, every line and curve of his pencil was done with care, she could see it, she could feel it. Franz cursed in her mother language. “Vasily, it's… you did incredible.” The man gave pause. He watched a grin split open her face as she refused to look away. A new, terrible idea came to mind, his eyes found the scattered sketches next to him.

Franziska perked up upon Vasily shoving more paper into her face. “Hm? What's this..?” There was more. The bird, a street, a room she recognized as the one she found him and Sugimoto "bonding" in. Most were of her. Quick, messy doodles of Franziska walking, smiling at something one of the other men said. There was a doodle of her crouching down to the ground next to a squirrel they passed by. She remembered that happening just that morning, before they left the city, before they left Russian territory and got thrown into a blizzard. At that point she wasn't aware that he was following them. But the one that caught her attention was one that seemed very recent. Her furrowed brow highlighted by firelight, eyes casted down to watch the flames lick the air. It was hours ago, she realized, when she was messing around with her match box. In that quick moment, before she looked away, Vasily saw her, and he was able to sketch this?

Franz looked back at him with a raised brow and a knowing smirk, “You like drawing me? I’m flattered.”

The redhead huffed, looking away while the blonde laughed, placing the sketches to the side. Franz watched him with curiosity in her gaze. He was so sweet to watch. Vasily, a cold blooded sniper- hell, she was still healing from that bullet he threw her way, and now he was here acting like a child. Oh yeah, that bullet in her leg… Ah, well, all is forgiven. It was hard to be upset at such a pretty face- or more like, it was hard to be upset when he looked at her with those eyes.

She had been able to see his face… but only once. Something inside her wanted to see it again. She wanted to see those lips, his jaw, she wanted to gaze upon those horrible scars of his, and shower them with attention without that pesky hood in the way. Terribly so.

She brought her hand to his neck, the touch making the hardened sniper stiffen. Her eyes were hypnotizing, putting him in a paralyzed trance. Her fingers dug into his layers of clothing, warm digits finding his nape, and Vasily nearly felt faint. He was almost taken under until he saw her other hand, dangerously close to his face. It was then he violently jerked his head to the side, suddenly understanding what Franziska was trying to do.

“Please?” Vasily heard her say, a needy, pleading look in her eye that was hard to ignore. She spoke so sweetly to him in his mother language, coming even closer. “I'd really like to see your face… only if you're comfortable with it.”

She wanted to see him. To see it.

But why?

A voice deep in his mind told Vasily no, he shouldn't. A louder, much weaker part of him wanted to show her, with hopes of more of… this. This attention. Those beautiful ocean eyes of hers only on him.

His hand moved with a mind of its own, his rough fingertips grazing the hem of the cloth shielding his face. How would Franziska look at Vasily now? He remembered the time before, not even a day ago he showed her only once, along with that man with the shaved head. He had reacted in horror. But Franziska… it was fascination.

She said something, Vasily didn't recognize it, his thoughts too occupied with other things. When her lips stopped moving, he finally did it.

He pulled down his mask, taking in his first breath of clear air in a long while, his sigh crystalizing in the air. Along with it he pushed his fingers through his auburn locks, knocking off his hood. His eyes opened again with the softest look of hesitation in his pale gaze, immediately looking to Franziska to analyze her face.

She was staring at him. Or rather, his cheek, noting his gunshot wounds still looked angry and raw. One side was worse than the other, the exit hole. But despite the wounds, there was no hint of anything negative in her dark eyes. Franziska continued to look at Vasily like he held the moon and the stars in his hands.

Her own cupped the back of his head, and the sniper's breath hitched in a shameful way. She was closer than ever before, the woman was silent as her breath brushed against his neck and his jaw. Every little move she made had the sniper's body failing him. He wanted to break, to give into the thoughts poisoning his mind. All he had to do was twist his neck, a simple, easy thing, but her body was rendering him useless.

And then Franziska kissed him. Her lips were like fallen snow against his jaw, cold and soft against a patch of skin where hair refused to grow, toeing the line between skin and scar tissue.

Her lips softly, slowly pulled away only a centimeter, and they traveled across his chin to place a similar touch against his opposite side. This one, the worst of the two, was given two sweet kisses instead of one. And only once she was finished did she pull away. Now Franziska looked at him embarrassed, the softest highlight of pink on her cheeks. She smiled. “Ah… you must think I'm a fool, acting like this… and with a man I barely know. Please forgive me.”

The blonde tried to move away, but Vasily refused to let her leave. With an arm around her waist, his palm against her cheek, Vasily successfully stopped Franziska in her tracks. She looked at him like a deer staring down the barrel of a rifle.

Vasily’s thumb pressed against the corner of her lips. His eyes scanned over every inch of her face. Her porcelain skin was free of any blemishes, untouched by any scars or scratches. Fit for an aristocrat's daughter. When his thumb moved, it uncovered the one thing that dared to litter her face. Two moles, one smaller than the other, like two drops of pen ink splashed against her lower lip.

Vasily moved slowly to give Franziska the option to deny his silent request, but she didn’t. So his mouth pressed a kiss against her chin, chapped lips covering her moles. He heard the softest sigh escape Franz’s lips once their skin touched, the hands still wrapped around his skull pulling him even closer.

His first kiss was followed by another, close to her lips, but not close enough. On his third kiss, it was finally where they both wanted it most. His mouth clashed against hers, nearly toppling the poor woman over and sending her to the ground. The two held each other impossibly close, hands tangling in hair, fingers squeezing cloth and flesh. A deep seated hunger made itself known in Vasily’s stomach, a gaping hole threatening to swallow him whole. And the sniper suddenly realized just how long he had been craving this. To hold, to be held, to taste the lips of another so passionately, to drown in this wonderful, foreign feeling taking a grip on his heart. And for a change his body and mind were not occupied with revenge. He allowed himself to drown in this wonderfully uncomfortable feeling at that moment.

What a fantastic woman he had to spend the night with.

[vironarro]

[ヴァシ勇尾 vasiyuuo] the error bred in bone 🌙

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Tokushirō Tsurumi x f!reader [ SYNOPSIS ] Your obsessive crush on your father's subordinate drives you to the depths of moral degeneracy. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.2k [ CONTENT ] Canon AU, y/n has yandere tendencies, alcohol, dubcon (sex under the influence; y/n gets him drunk), blackmail, age gap, I made up some random military officials, size kink, exhibitionism, oral sex (m receiving).

Lieutenant Tokushirō Tsurumi had been in your sights for a while, a marvelous distraction running circles around your head. He was a catalyst for your madness. Before he entered your life you were even-keeled and level headed. Your placidity was prized amongst your family. You held little to no interest in older men, especially the ones your father, a flag officer, associated with. You favored ones your own age, the kind with bright smiles and a youthful glint in their eyes.

But the Lieutenant changed everything. He came into your life and demolished any semblance of sense you held dear. You were possessed, overwhelmed by lust that for so long lay dormant in the depths. Anytime your father mentioned having company over you eagerly demanded to know if Lieutenant Tsurumi would be coming.

“Father, will he—”

“Yes, yes,” your father said, his tone bristling with irritation. “Don’t bother him like you did last time. It’s distasteful. And I doubt the man wants you to talk his ear off again.”

“I won’t,” you replied.

You fully intended on doing so. No one was going to get in your way. In fact you were going to amplify your distasteful behavior by getting the Lieutenant a gift. You knew he had a sweet tooth as he mentioned it to you in the past. You would never forget his affinity for red bean paste.

Monaka. That was what you’d get him. You grabbed your coat and quietly made your way to the front door. Immediately your father pounced on you.

“You are not going anywhere.”

“Can’t I please go for a walk? That’s all I’m going to do. I promise,” you said with pleading eyes.

He stared at you, eyes sharp like when he ordered around his subordinates; it was a standoff. You were undeterred though. You were unwavering, intending to win.

Your father sighed. “I want you back here in a half an hour.”

“Of course, of course. I would never want to disappoint you.”

He was so easy to trick. His faith in you wasn’t unfounded. For so long you were the ideal, dutiful daughter. He didn’t realize how degraded you had become, how your mind had morphed into a lecherous beast.

Getting the monaka went off without a hitch. The box was small enough to be concealed in your clothes and your father was none the wiser. The rest of the day crawled by, leaving you vibrating with anticipation. When you finally heard a knock at the door you nearly vomited, your excitement getting the best of you.

“Good evening, Lieutenant Tsurumi,” you said upon opening the door.

He looked stunning in the gloaming’s soft, rosy light. You didn’t bother greeting the other men which elicited a loud groan from your father.

“Good evening to you too,” he said with a smile as they all entered.

You were plagued with dismay when your father told you to busy yourself as he and his guests were going to have a private discussion. You lingered in the hall outside the sitting room like a wanton ghost. The monaka was burning a hole in your pocket. Your patience was nowhere to be found. You needed to see the Lieutenant. You needed to get close enough to take a whiff of his sleek, raven hair. You needed to stare at his fingers and imagine what they’d feel like curved inside you. You needed to dig your claws into him, drag him away, and ravish him. You would remain a mess until then.

It was all too much to bear so you locked yourself away in your room and fingered yourself until your soul had settled. You laid in bed in somewhat of a daze. The sound of boisterous laughter brought you out of it and on your feet.

The door to the sitting room was open and the stench of alcohol permeated the rest of the house.

“May I come in?” you asked coyly, holding your hands behind your back.

“Yes!” your father exclaimed. “Come in, come in!”

He was drunk off his ass. And it seemed everyone else was if their pink cheeks and sweaty visages were anything to go by. Though suspiciously Lieutenant Tsurumi was spared these afflictions. You took a seat next to him. He didn’t even smell like alcohol.

“And how is my luh—lovely, stupendous daughter?” your father slurred.

“She’s fine last time I heard,” you replied. The men erupted into laughter.

“My, my. How you’ve grown,” said a man with starved eyes. “I remember when you were this big.” He let his hand hover above the floor.

Your mouth filled with saliva. He sounded so creepy.

“You remember Captain Akimoto, don’t you?” your father asked.

“I don’t sadly,” you said apologetically.

“Well you must remember me,” said the other mystery man.

“Yes! Of course I remember you! How could I forget? You’re my favorite out of all my father’s associates.”

“Really?”

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t remember you either.”

Again, an eruption of laughter. Drunks were so easily entertained.

The conversation they were having couldn’t have been more boring. Your father’s dealings were never of much interest. 

Thankfully you were more than happy to stare at the Lieutenant and imagine what your wedding would be like. It didn’t take him long to notice your dreamy gaze. Your father got up to show Captain Akimoto and the other stooge his shiny new Type 26 revolver that he kept in his office. It was then that Lieutenant Tsurumi addressed you.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked with a smile.

“No, but I have something to give you.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

You patted yourself down and felt nothing. You must have dropped it in your room when you hastily undressed. The box was probably on the floor, waiting to be found.

“Uh. I think it’s in my room actually,” you muttered.

You stood to go get it and a brilliant idea struck you. It was a longshot, but your desire made you confident.

“I’d hate to leave you alone in here. Why don’t you come with me?”

“I shouldn’t,” he said demurely.

“You should though.”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“I don’t want to be a bad hostess. My mother always said, ‘Never leave a guest unattended.’”

“Your father is the host.”

You found yourself getting frustrated with him, a new development. You wanted to slap him for being so difficult, but refrained. You wanted the first touch to be him cupping your face in his hands while you kissed him.

“And last time I checked you weren’t a mere extension of him.”

“You’re right. I’m not. But I still wish you would come with me,” you said with a little pout. “Wouldn’t that be more enjoyable than me telling my father you’re a liar?”

He was unphased. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“He doesn’t like to waste his whiskey, you know? It’s expensive.”

Lieutenant Tsurumi narrowed his eyes. “I’m not follo—”

“He won’t even let me look at the bottle. Me, his own daughter that he loves and trusts more than anything. That’s how important it is to him.” You looked down at the Lieutenant. “If he finds out you haven't been drinking it, he’ll be so offended. Forget him ever respecting you again,” you said, tacking on a little laugh.

“What makes you so sure I haven’t been drinking?”

“Your complexion is too even. Everyone else looks like they have a fever. And you don’t smell like alcohol… More like a field of poppies.”

Silence enveloped the room.

“My father hates liars. And he’s very vindictive. If you value your career, you’ll come.”

He studied your face. It made you nervous to be examined so closely, but there was something pleasing about having his eyes on you. It made your skin feel electric.

“Can I ask what you have for me?”

“You’ll see,” you said, grabbing a hold of his wrist.

You led him into your room. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, but you knew he was on edge. Your drunk father was down the hall and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate an older man in his daughter’s bedroom.

The box of monaka was on the floor near your bed just like you were suspecting, but you needed more time with him. This was a once in a lifetime moment; you couldn’t afford to screw it up.

“Now let’s see if I can remember where I put it,” you said.

“You can always give it to me another time.”

You wanted to hurl something at him. His attempts to get away from you grew more tiresome by the moment. You wanted him around, but you also wanted him to shut up.

As you continued your faux search you noticed the bottle of imo shōchū you kept tucked away for special occasions which was essentially anytime you were bored in your room. Seeing it gave you the perfect idea.

“You know,” you began, looking over your shoulder at Lieutenant Tsurumi, “my father’s pretty perceptive. Even if I do keep your secret, he’ll probably find out.”

“What makes you so sure?”

You had no idea.

“He has his ways,” you replied, grabbing the shōchū. You turned to face him. “Why not have a—”

“Your resolve is impressive, but I would rather your father hold me in contempt for wasting his whiskey than finding me drunk in his daughter’s bedroom.”

He made his way to the door, but you rushed and slid between him and the exit.

“Just have one drink with me,” you said, hoping you didn’t sound too unhinged. It was becoming impossible to control yourself. “One drink, I give you your gift, and you’re free.”

“I—”

“Pleeeease?” you interrupted. You masked your frustration with sweetness.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. One drink.”

His reluctant participation filled you with inexpressible joy. You began to walk forward, urging him deeper into your room away from the door.

“I don’t have any glasses though so I’m going to have to get creative serving you.”

As he walked backwards he bumped into your bed.

“Take a seat,” you purred.

The look of resignation on his face disappointed you. In your fantasies he was eager, begging to be at your will. But the reality was vastly different. He took a seat, and it became clear he was just going through the motions. You heard your father belch and start telling one of his long-winded stories. The pressure to rush through everything evaporated.

You crawled into the Lieutenant’s lap, straddling him. “Open your mouth.”

His body was tense, his muscles made of stone. You wanted him to relax and getting him drunk would be the most effective way. He’d probably be more cheery, maybe even flirtatious. As your mind went wild dreaming up outcomes, you opened the bottle and poured it into his mouth.

He coughed. “What did you get me anyway?”

You had almost forgotten about it. You took a swig from the bottle of shōchū.

“Oh. Uh. Monaka. I remember you saying you liked anko,” you said shyly, wiping your lips.

He opened his mouth unprompted and you gave him more.

“If you hate them, don’t tell me. My pathetic, little heart won’t be able to take it.”

“I’ll be sure to leave you out when I go complain to everyone about how revolting they were.”

You rocked your hips, rubbing your bare cunt against his lap. His eyes were flat, not even a hint of light. He wasn’t going to fully break anytime soon and it was killing you.

“Do you like me?” you asked, feeding him more alcohol.

“I suppose.”

“Do you ever think about me?”

“All the time.”

“Really?”

“I’m a liar, remember?”

You flared your nostrils. He was so irksome and it was so surprising. You went back and forth taking sips from the bottle. The effects took hold of him faster than you were expecting.

“How do you feel?”

He was quiet, his eyes glassy. You placed the bottle on the floor before stroking his cheek in an attempt to coax an answer out of him. All he did was nod. You felt satisfied now that he was pliable. You wanted putty in your hands and there it was, waiting to be manipulated. You pushed him back onto your bed and began to undress him, starting with his pants. He took initiative and removed his ornate attila jacket.

You carefully freed his cock, gazing at its considerable length. As you stroked the underside, it came to life in your hand. You heard your father laugh loudly and your nerves crept up on you. You froze with his turgid cock resting in your palm. Lieutenant Tsurumi didn’t seem concerned, if anything he looked a little annoyed. He roughly pulled you into a kiss, his moustache tickling your upper lip. His mouth tasted astringent and slightly floral from the shōchū.

You heard your father once more, but louder. You feared he was coming down the hall and your door was still open. Instinctively you went to shut it, but the Lieutenant wasn’t letting you go anywhere.

“I’m not letting you back out now” he murmured between kisses.

You had created a monster, and you were sick with pride.

You guided his cock into your cunt. He groaned as you sunk down on it. Your breath hitched as it filled you, stretching out your tight hole. You clung to him and he began to thrust. His hands slid under your ass, grabbing onto its soft flesh. It was as if your body was singing. The feeling of his cock swollen inside you was a dream come true. You almost couldn’t believe it was happening.

“Ouch,” you whined.

His cock bruised your cervix after a particularly deep thrust. He slurred an apology as he moved you onto your back. You liked seeing him from a new angle. It was a perfect view of him coming undone. Limp strands of hair hung in his face and his breathing was heavy. You reveled in his moans, feeling wholly accomplished. Power wasn’t something you came by much in your life and now you felt ripe with it.

You clenched around his cock.

“Shit!”

His volume was surprising. He had been so quiet up until then. Your eyes were glued to your doorway. The last thing you wanted was to be caught by your father or even worse that pervert, Captain Akimoto.

“Not so loud,” you whispered.

He didn’t respond and you found yourself caring less and less as he rutted against you. Your body was tingly, almost like you were dissolving into pure pleasure. You felt high. You weren’t sure if it was from the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you, or the fear of being seen. What you were sure of though was the overwhelming need to come.

A whimper fell from your lips which snowballed into lilted grunts and moans. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled on it. He held you close as you came, his thrusts picking up pace. All the tension that had ever resided in your body had melted away into nothingness. You were pure light, nothing but ecstasy.

His pained voice brought you out of your post-orgasm haze.

“Where should I—”

“My mouth, my mouth,” you pleaded, pushing him onto the floor like he was a rag doll.

You crawled off the bed and braced yourself on his thighs. You wrapped your lips around his cock and bobbed your head up and down. His hand made its way to the base of your skull and pushed you down further. Warm cum dripped down your throat. The urge to gag was there, but you remained strong and swallowed it all. You didn’t want there to be any evidence.

“Oh,” you said, noticing the neglected box of monaka on the floor.

You scurried to your feet and grabbed it. Lieutenant Tsurumi remained on the floor in a daze with his cock hanging out of his pants.

You held the box out to him. “Here.”

He slowly looked up at you, his eyelids heavy.

“Huh?”

You shook the box, but it failed to get a reaction. You rolled your eyes and sat beside him, opening the box. You pulled out one of the delicate cookies.

“Open.”

You placed it in his mouth and awaited his reaction.

“Delightful,” he said, mouth muffled by anko.

You grinned. “I’m so happy you think so.”

You helped him to his feet and steadied him as he tucked his cock away. Just as you went to button his jacket you heard a throaty gasp.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Surprisingly it wasn’t your father. It was the dreaded Captain Akimoto. As he came closer you noticed his eyes were bloodshot and wet, practically bulging out his head. His steps were loud and lacked grace. All the commotion alerted your father who sped past the lumbering pervert.

“Lieutenant Tokushirō Tsurumi!”

“Oh no, he said my full name. I’m in trouble,” he muttered, reaching for another monaka.

Despite this he didn’t seem concerned, but you knew that was the alcohol.

“What is going on?” Your father’s drunken rage turned to one of concerned confusion.

“I found him outside in the garden!”

Your father continued his interrogation. “You did?”

“Yes! He was half-dressed and talking to Tasogare!”

Tasogare was your overweight, odd-eyed bobtail cat. She was a known attention grabber. Your father turned his attention to the Lieutenant.

“Is—is this true?” he asked, trying to stifle a laugh.

You nudged the Lieutenant.

“Yes, sir. I”—he yawned—“apologize for my lack of… tact. Your cat was… simply too alluring.”

Your father erupted into laughter and grabbed the Lieutenant’s shoulder.

“Tsurumi, my boy! You have nothing to apologize for. This is actually a relief! I was starting to think you were a bore.”

“Oh good,” he said, shoving another monaka into his mouth. 

“I know it’s getting late, but come have another drink before my daughter kicks everyone out, hmm?”

Your father was so jovial; you almost felt guilty. He didn’t even let Lieutenant Tsurumi answer before he led him out of your room. He was leaning heavily on your father, arm draped around his shoulder and head tilted towards his. You couldn’t deny your jealousy. It wasn’t fair. You loved your father, but he didn’t deserve that intimacy. It was yours. You had earned it. Who was he to sweep the man of your dreams off his feet and away from your embrace?

You cleared your throat. “Lieutenant Tsurumi,” you sang.

He stopped dead in his tracks and nearly sent your father stumbling to the ground. He craned his head back.

“Yes?”

“You forgot something.”

You held up the box of monaka. He was in front of you in an instant. You placed the box in his outstretched hands. He held it like it was a small animal, a creature needing tenderness and a gentle touch. You checked to see if anyone was watching. Captain Akimoto and the other officer were more concerned with making fun of your father for almost falling on his face.

You cupped Lieutenant Tsurumi’s face in your hands and kissed him one last time. “Goodnight, Lieutenant. Don’t let my father bully you too much.”

[cleveradjacent]

Leave Me Hanging | ao3 link

M | 1.3k words | Ogata Hyakunosuke/Vasily Pavlichenko | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat | No pun intended | Read the warnings and tags on AO3

Vigor drained from him, color left his vision, strategising thoughts scurried off like rats; in a snap, he went from man to thing, ossified and hollow. Ogata’s final trick was the most vicious of them all. He’d left him hanging.

[gumbaigumbai]