WELL: Chapter 6

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The next day, Shinobu was called out again to help dig through the rubble. Watching him go with Tamura, Ryousuke felt an inexplicable loneliness tugging at him. He wanted to help too, but he knew full well that with his injured foot, he’d only get in the way. Maybe Tamura noticed how aimless he seemed, because he offered gently, “If you’re up for it…”

“Ibuki’s been putting together an inventory list for food and medical supplies. He’s going out in the afternoon, so if you’d even help just in the morning—”

“I think I might have a bit of a fever. Is it okay if I rest here?”

He cut him off and lied. Those words—die, die—echoed again in his mind. The purple pill shoved into his mouth. Just thinking about helping Ibuki made his body tremble. When Tamura asked if he was all right, Shinobu suddenly darted forward, pushing Tamura aside and grabbing Ryousuke’s hand tightly. “Are you okay? Should I get some medicine? Does your head hurt?” He started fussing loudly until Ryousuke whispered sharply into his ear, I’m faking it, you idiot, and only then did Shinobu finally back off, saying, “Then I’ll stay and take care of Ryou-chan today,” refusing to budge an inch.

Once the two of them had left and their footsteps disappeared completely, Ryousuke crawled around the shoe store alone. He ransacked the little storeroom behind the register from top to bottom, hoping maybe a forgotten box of snacks had been left behind. Bread twice a day wasn’t cutting it. Yesterday, under Ibuki’s influence, he’d thought for a moment that maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad—but now, all he could feel was regret at letting those cruel words sway him, and a stubborn drive to survive no matter what. Still, despite that will, all he managed to find in the shop was a pair of filthy socks and a half-full pack of cigarettes. He even opened the cash register. His heart leapt at the wad of cash inside, but it only took a second to realize how worthless it all was without rescue. That realization left him hollow. He struck a match and lit the edge of a ten-thousand-yen bill. The blaze curled and shrank into ash almost instantly.

In the rubber-scented back of the shop, he lit one of the damp cigarettes. He hadn’t brought them to school, but now and then he smoked at home. The scent was nostalgic. He smoked three in a row down to the filter. Then came the knock on the door and a voice calling, “Hello~,” just as he was lighting a fourth. He scrambled to stuff the cigarette back into the box and kicked the butts into a corner of the floor.

“Excuse meee~”

Even though he hadn’t responded, the figure with the candle opened the door and came in. Ryousuke hastily dove into the curtain-covered bedding.

“Tamura-san asked me to check in on you since you weren’t feeling well. You doing okay?”

He peeked his face out of the curtain and sat up slowly, trying to look like a weak, sick person. The one holding the candle was Taki—the guy everyone called the “delivery guy” because he brought the morning and evening meals.

“Sorry to trouble you. I feel a lot better after resting.”

“That’s good to hear. Do you need anything?”

“No, nothing in particular. Thank you.”

The gratitude was purely performative, devoid of any real feeling. What he really wanted was for Taki to leave as quickly as possible—before he noticed the smell of smoke.

“Well, that’s good to hear, but…”

Taki sat down beside him, showing no signs of leaving. Just as Ryou­suke opened his mouth to say he was starting to feel a bit off again in hopes of sending him away, Taki tilted his chin forward and sniffed the air.

“Sorry, but…”

Flashing a grin that revealed a row of jagged teeth, Taki said,

“Mind sharing one with me?”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

He wasn't an accomplice—not exactly. After all, it wasn't as if smoking had been prohibited. But for someone claiming to be sick, puffing on a cigarette in bed didn’t leave a good impression. Still, when Ryousuke handed over one of the damp cigarettes, Taki took it and smoked like it was the best thing he'd had in days.

“People need to rest, you know. Mmhmm.”

That, apparently, was his excuse for having sat there nearly twenty minutes. Two thin trails of smoke spiraled lazily upward into the dark ceiling. Ryousuke was honestly relieved that it was Taki who'd come to check on him. The guy was, at the very least, easy to talk to.

“Tamura-san and the others here, they’re way too uptight. I get it, we’ve suddenly been dropped into lawlessness, and you need rules to keep people from going feral. But for someone loose like me, it’s a little suffocating, you know? Don’t you think so too?”

Ryousuke wasn’t quite the same type as Taki, but he was definitely more like him than like Tamura. He hated hassle and ignored anything that felt like a burden. He nodded.

“Yeah, the rules are strict, sure… but considering it’s only been, what, ten days since all this started, I think Tamura’s done a pretty good job keeping things together.”

Taki's laid-back tone rubbed off on him, and Ryousuke slipped into casual speech without thinking. The older guy didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“I don’t hate Tamura-san, honestly. He’s a good guy. But when you see too many good guys, it kinda makes your back itch, you know?”

Tamura was the perfect honor student type. Even knowing he was a good person, it was hard not to push back against that uptight, too-good-to-be-true vibe. Ryousuke got that feeling well.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Right? Right?”

Taki leaned in with a grin and clasped his hands together like they’d just struck up a secret pact. That feeling of sharing something unspoken—something you couldn’t tell just anyone—brought them closer fast.

“No matter how many rules you make, someone’s going to break them. I mean, people kill each other like it’s nothing.”

There was a hint of something more in Taki’s tone. Ryousuke responded right away, “I heard someone who had bad eyesight got killed, and the culprit was someone who broke in from outside, right?” He could sense Taki was hoping for a reaction like that.

Taki’s expression suddenly went serious. Even though they both knew no one else was around, he glanced nervously over his shoulder.

“Keep this between us. Don’t tell anyone, especially not Tamura-san. Officially, yeah, it was someone from outside who did it. But there’s this rumor that maybe it was one of us.”

The tension in Taki’s voice made Ryousuke swallow hard.

“They’re calling it an outside attack, but there’s no evidence. No one saw anyone escape. So… it’s not impossible that it was someone from inside.”

“Ibuki…”

He hadn’t meant to say the name aloud. It slipped out.

Taki flinched. “W-Why would you say that?”

“I just… had a feeling…”

The silence that followed was heavy. Taki folded his arms and stared hard at Ryousuke, letting out a long, low hum.

“There’s definitely rumors that it was Ibuki. The fact that even a newcomer like you picked up on that is kind of amazing. He’s… I don’t know, he just gives off that vibe. He’s smart, yeah, and serious, but his personality’s sharp, not like Tamura. And you know what he said? After the guy died, he just goes, ‘One less mouth to feed.’ Can you believe that?”

Ryousuke placed a hand to his chest. He couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Ibuki told me to die.”

The man sitting across from him opened his eyes wide.

“He said he regretted picking up me and Shinobu, said if I was just going to be a burden, useless and injured, I should die to save food for everyone else. He beat the hell out of me, shoved some kind of poison-looking pill into my mouth. I spat it out, but still…”

Taki started to shake. His pale face twisted, and he clamped both hands over his mouth. Sure, it was a shocking story—but Ryousuke couldn't help but wonder why someone who hadn’t even experienced it himself was this terrified.

“I heard the same thing.”

Taki’s voice trembled as he spoke.

“The guy who got killed... his name was Yoshino. He said the same thing. That Ibuki told him, ‘You’re blind, useless—just die.’”

A chill clawed up Ryousuke’s spine. They’d finally escaped that pitch-black basement. Finally found somewhere with water and food. Somewhere that seemed safe. But here—here, there was a murderer. One who would never be judged, never be punished.

“That bastard really did kill Yoshino. Even if he was blind, even if he couldn’t pull his weight—he was still one of us. He was one of us… and Ibuki still did it. That guy’s not human. He’s not even human.”

Ryousuke wasn’t thinking about the poor soul who had been the first to die. His mind was consumed by the murderer who’d taken a life without remorse, and then gone on living like it meant nothing. He was just like Yoshino—injured, helpless, told over and over again that he should die. The next one might be him.

He hadn’t wanted to know this. He hadn’t wanted to start calculating his own chances.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

As soon as Taki left, Ryousuke locked both the glass door and the window. He dragged out all the stock shoes from the back storage room and threw them onto the sales floor. Then he slipped into the now-empty storage room, locking the door from the inside. In the cramped space barely the size of two tatami mats, he sat down in the corner and curled up, hugging his knees.

How would Ibuki come to kill him? How had the unfortunate first victim died at his hands? He didn’t want to think about it, and yet the thoughts wouldn’t stop. Even when he told himself to stop, he couldn’t.

How long had he sat there like that? The dull thudding of something banging startled him into clarity. He crawled nervously around the narrow room, unable to sit still, needing to do something—even if it was pointless.

“…Ryou-chan, Ryou-chan…”

Among the confusion, a familiar voice snagged in his ears almost immediately after the sound began.

“Ryou-chan…”

He glanced at the clock. It was about time for Shinobu to return. Heart pounding, Ryousuke hesitantly unlocked the storage door. A tall figure stood behind the glass door, pounding on it with one hand and holding a candle in the other. It was unmistakably Shinobu. Ryousuke crawled out of the storage room and unlocked the door.

“That’s so cruel, Ryou-chan. Why’d you lock the door…”

Kneeling with a look like he might burst into tears at any moment, Shinobu clutched the hem of Ryousuke’s shirt. Pulled roughly forward, he dropped the candle he was holding, extinguishing the flame on impact. The sudden darkness magnified Ryousuke’s terror, and he shrieked, clinging to Shinobu’s legs.

“Ryou-chan, what’s wrong?”

“Turn on the light. Lock the door. Hurry, hurry!”

Shinobu, startled by Ryousuke’s shrill cry, fumbled to relight the candle and lock the door. With the door locked, Ibuki couldn’t get in. Ryousuke knew that, and yet he couldn’t shake the image of Ibuki lunging from the nearby shadows. A hand stroked his trembling back, and when he looked up, Shinobu was asking, “Are you okay?” in that gentle voice—and just like that, the tears came flooding out. He clung to Shinobu, who reeked of sweat and dust, not caring in the slightest. In the face of fraying nerves and consuming fear, that didn’t matter at all.

They retreated together into the storage room, locking the door from the inside. Sitting with their backs to the wall, staring at the candle flickering at their feet, Ryousuke clutched Shinobu’s hand tightly, as if to make sure the other boy was still there.

“Are you scared too, Ryou-chan?” Shinobu murmured beside him. “What are you afraid of?”

A murderer. He was afraid of a murderer. Afraid of the man who might come to kill him. He didn’t want to say that out loud. They had been picked up together in the desert, under the same circumstances. And yet, only he had been told to die. That hurt. Saying it aloud would only make it worse. His injury wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t be helped—but that one, uncontrollable detail had been enough to divide him from Shinobu.

“What does it matter why?” he snapped, and felt the pressure of Shinobu’s fingers tighten around his own.

“Yeah… sorry.”

Right or wrong, if Ryousuke got angry, Shinobu would apologize. The boy who always tilted his head and peeked up anxiously to read Ryousuke’s moods was now forcing a clumsy, foolish smile.

“Today, I got some stuff from Tamura-san,” he said, pulling things out of his pockets—travel-sized toothbrush, razor, soap. The same items Ryousuke had told him yesterday to ask Tamura about. He had wanted them, but in this moment, he couldn’t muster even a trace of joy. He just stared at the toiletries with a numb, detached gaze.

“I’m hungry, Ryou-chan. Let’s eat dinner, okay?”

Whether people lived or died, Shinobu acted like it was just another day. If their positions were reversed—if it had been Shinobu who got injured—Ryousuke was certain it would’ve been the carefree idiot trembling in fear. Irritated, he lashed out and kicked Shinobu’s thin, stick-like right leg.

“Ow! That hurts, Ryou-chan.”

Shinobu curled up, both knees bent tight against his chest. In the end, Ryousuke’s own toe throbbed with dull pain, and he didn’t try it a second time.

Dinner was, again, bread—and this time, it was two days past the expiration date. Since coming here, all they’d eaten was bread. He knew he should be grateful to have anything at all, but the resentment bubbling up inside wouldn’t go away. Human desire was insatiable. The moment one need was fulfilled, they wanted more—more variety, better taste.

Even with Shinobu there, something still felt off, so Ryousuke didn’t leave the locked storeroom. Since Ryousuke wouldn’t go out, Shinobu inevitably stayed too. In the cramped, stifling space, they finished a lonely meal, brushed their teeth, and shaved. Ryousuke lathered the soap and rubbed it over his face, peering into the mirror they'd brought into the storeroom under the flickering candlelight. His own faint stubble came off cleanly in minutes. Shinobu shaved too, but the result was a mess.

“You missed a spot,” Ryousuke pointed out.

“Really?” Shinobu said, pressing a hand to his chin. “Ah, you’re right.”

He picked up the razor and soap again—but the moment after, there was a startled shout. Ryousuke turned and was shocked to see red dripping from Shinobu’s fingertips. But the boy himself just stared blankly at the bleeding cut.

“Idiot, press on it—now.”

Ryousuke grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around the bloody finger. The bleeding didn’t stop right away, and when it finally clotted, a deep gash was visible on the pad of Shinobu’s finger. He was almost impressed at how someone could manage to injure themselves this badly with a simple T-shaped razor.

“It hurts…” Shinobu muttered, lowering his head. Stubborn patches of missed stubble dotted his jawline, catching the candlelight.

Ryousuke grabbed his chin roughly and tilted it upward.

“Hold still. Don’t move.”

He lathered more soap with bottled water and smeared it over the rough patches. It was his first time shaving someone else’s face—he was a little nervous, but quickly got used to it. With quiet concentration, he moved from the cheek to the jaw, carefully scraping the razor across Shinobu’s skin. He hadn’t realized how close his face had gotten until Shinobu murmured, “It tickles.” Ryousuke reached out to touch the freshly shaved skin, checking for anything he’d missed. Shinobu looked into the mirror and muttered, “Smooth,” like a kid, wide-eyed and delighted. He hadn’t changed at all since elementary school—still hopelessly clumsy. It made Ryousuke laugh a little.

“Next time, do it properly.”

He rinsed the dirty razor and wiped it dry with a towel. They couldn’t afford to throw things away after just one use.

“Ryou-chan.”

Without warning, he was pulled into a tight hug. Cheeks rubbed insistently against his, and Ryousuke instantly understood the intent—Shinobu had done the same thing before.

“That doesn’t hurt anymore, you know,” he said.

When he tried to push him away, Shinobu yanked him back with unexpected force. Their lips aligned, rose, and before Ryousuke could process it—he was kissed. He felt the heat of Shinobu’s mouth, shockingly real.

“Cut it out, you idiot!”

He grabbed Shinobu’s hair, yanked him back, and immediately slapped him. Shinobu scooted back half a step, still close enough to reach with an arm. His eyes locked onto Ryousuke’s, serious to the point of breathlessness.

“I love you, Ryou-chan.”

His voice trembled, and his eyes glistened faintly with tears.

“I love you so much.”

It was immediately clear that this wasn’t the usual display of loyalty from his ever-devoted servant. No—if it were, Shinobu wouldn’t be staring at him with such painful seriousness. …They had spent their entire lives together, and yet Ryousuke had never once suspected that Shinobu was that kind of guy. To be honest, he didn’t want to believe it. He had always thought the clinging affection was just admiration—familial, simple, harmless. But now, the thought that it might have carried sexual meaning made something in his stomach turn. Disgusting.

He glared in silence. Shinobu began to sob, hiccuping as he covered his face with both hands. But even his tears couldn't undo the boundary that had drawn itself firmly across Ryousuke’s chest. There was no way he could ever look at Shinobu the same again.

It was Shinobu’s fault—for falling in love, for confessing, for making things awkward between them. As Ryousuke stared blankly at the crown of the boy’s bowed head, a knock came at the door. In an instant, his focus jumped from the discomfort of a same-sex confession to the unease of an unknown visitor. The knocking grew too loud to ignore, and Ryousuke swallowed hard before barking an order at the slumped figure beside him.

“Hey. Go see who it is.”

But instead of just checking, Shinobu let the visitor in. Ryousuke was about to yell at him for being careless when he saw who it was—and quickly shut his mouth. It wasn’t the man he feared.

It was Tamura.

“Ah, did I wake you?” Tamura asked, giving an apologetic smile. “Sorry for being persistent. We’re about to hold a meeting for all the residents. There are some important things we’ll be discussing, so I’d really like you both to attend. If Ryousuke-kun’s not feeling well, then just Shinobu-kun is fine.”

The last thing Ryousuke wanted was to attend a meeting and see Ibuki’s face, but staying alone in this place was far scarier. If Ibuki slipped away from the meeting and came to kill him… that was a thought he couldn’t bear. Being among a group was safer. He nodded.

“I’ll go.”

Tamura smiled gently. “Then let’s go together. You probably don’t know the way.”

For once, Ryousuke was grateful for Tamura’s constant thoughtfulness. Having a neutral third party between them was easier than being stuck in this awkward, silent tension with Shinobu. He leaned on Shinobu’s shoulder and let himself be helped along. He didn’t speak, not unless Shinobu did first. He kept his head down, glancing sideways at the boy’s pale, brooding face.

You should’ve known it would end like this, he thought bitterly.

But even so, Ryousuke couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pity—for this clumsy, hopeless boy who, even after confessing his feelings, couldn’t bring himself to run away.

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