WELL: Chapter 9

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Betrayed. The fact that he’d been betrayed by his father trampled through Ryousuke’s mind like muddy boots on polished floors. The dignified father figure he’d admired collapsed into nothing but a lecherous old man. Sae, whom he’d merely disliked, became a detestable devil. And the childhood friend now claiming seniority just because he’d been born a few months earlier—he became something repulsive, someone Ryousuke couldn’t even bear to look at.

But in truth, he didn’t know for certain. It could all be a lie. Just some story Shinobu made up, and he’d fallen for it. There was no way here to prove what was true or false. All he had were the words that came from Shinobu’s mouth.

“Sorry to spring this on you, but I really want to ask Shinobu to go get Ibuki,” Taki said the morning of the day he was set to accompany Ibuki to the Matsui Department Store’s underground. “It’s just… I don’t know who else to ask. The others would probably ask questions, and if I told them anything, it’d get back to Tamura in no time. But Shinobu—he doesn’t say anything. Like with the bottles the other night. He just does it.”

Taki had said before he’d take care of finding someone to distract Ibuki. And yet, here they were. Without someone to call Ibuki away, the entire plan fell apart. Reluctantly, Ryousuke summoned Shinobu, who hadn’t spoken a word to him since yesterday. With a sharp glance at Taki, Shinobu muttered, “Ibuki-san?”

“At eight this morning, I need you to go to his place and call him outside,” Taki explained. “The reason doesn’t matter. Just keep him out there for at least five minutes.”

“Please,” he added, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture and bowing his head. Shinobu flicked a glance at Ryousuke.

“Why do I have to do that?” he asked, not forcefully, but clearly unwilling.

“Come on, please…” Taki looked to Ryousuke now, silently urging him—say something.

“…Just do what Taki says,” Ryousuke muttered, still staring downward. He didn’t lift his head, but he could tell Shinobu had turned to look at him. After a long silence, a quiet “Alright” finally reached his ears.

“If Ryou-chan wants me to, then I’ll do it.”

It was a nasty way of saying it. Like he was being blackmailed. But Taki, unaware of the strange tension between the two, let out a breath of relief now that the arrangements were settled. “Okay, I’m counting on you at eight,” he said with a sheepish smile to Shinobu, then turned to Ryousuke with, “Handle the cleanup after, alright?” before hurrying off.

Once Taki was gone, Ryousuke took the box of cookies that had been distributed as breakfast and returned to the storeroom, locking the door behind him. He’d slept there alone the night before. Shinobu had called to him again and again from the other side—“Ryou-chan, let me in”—but he hadn’t unlocked the door until morning.

A knock came at the storeroom door now. He ignored it, pretending not to hear.

“Ryou-chan, what are you planning to do with Taki-san?”

He didn’t answer. Just opened the box and started eating a cookie. He hated Shinobu. Hated that he’d told him something he never needed to know. Hated that he’d dragged it out just to hurt him. He didn’t want to deal with him anymore. Didn’t want to speak to him. They weren’t childhood friends anymore, not even acquaintances. What was there left to say?

…He raised his injured leg slightly. A dull, stabbing pain shot through it. Because of this damn leg, he couldn’t even throw Shinobu out.

“You should’ve just died back then,” he muttered, tossing a snapped cookie into his mouth.

“Back in the desert, you should’ve died.”

If he had, Ryousuke wouldn’t have had to learn any of this. His pride would’ve remained unscathed. Shinobu would’ve stayed a beautiful memory, buried at the bottom of his mind.

“If you seriously told me to die, Ryou-chan, I would,” came the voice from the other side of the door—calm, unshaken. “But you need me, don’t you? Because your leg’s messed up.”

It was the truth—but every word Shinobu said now sounded like a veiled insult, nothing more than poison.

Ten minutes before eight, Ryousuke heard the sound of the glass door opening outside. Shinobu must’ve been leaving. He always left for "excavation" work at exactly eight o’clock, so this ten-minute window could only mean one thing—he was on his way to Ibuki’s house to lure him outside. Ryousuke checked the clock again. Ibuki had said he would head out shortly after eight, so if he waited until eight-thirty, or even nine just to be sure, it should be safe to sneak into the house.

He couldn’t entrust the disposal of the poisoned water to Shinobu, so he’d have to go to Ibuki’s house himself. Ryousuke looked around for something he could use to support his right leg. He found a bent iron rod—the kind used to pull down shutters. It was thin and flimsy, but it would do as a makeshift cane. At exactly nine o’clock, he took the rod and a candle and left the house.

To reach Ibuki’s place, he had no choice but to pass the excavation site. He tried to stay unnoticed by walking along the edge, but of all people, it was Tamura who spotted him. The kind, meddlesome man came hurrying over and asked, “What’s wrong?” Ryousuke brushed it off with a vague, “Just going to the toilet…” Tamura offered to lend a shoulder, but Ryousuke declined politely and hobbled forward with the help of the rod. From a distance, Shinobu was watching, but fortunately, perhaps because he was working, he didn’t come over.

At last, Ryousuke reached Ibuki’s house and opened the unlocked door to the pharmacy. No one locked their doors during the day. There weren’t any thieves among the group, but more than that, people couldn’t lock up even if they wanted to—keys were often lost. Taki had already confirmed that Ibuki’s house, like the others, couldn’t be locked from the outside.

The moment he stepped in, the pharmacy gave off the same peculiar scent as before. It brought back the unpleasant memory of the time Ibuki had shoved pills into his mouth, and Ryousuke’s mood grew darker. Holding the candle low, he walked between the shelves. Near the cash register, he spotted four plastic bottles tossed carelessly onto the floor. How had Ibuki not noticed something so obvious? he wondered as he bent to pick them up—just as a faint fssht sound came from his left.

He whirled around in alarm.

“It’s you.”

Ibuki emerged from the back of the room, a lighter in hand. Ryousuke froze like a frog pinned beneath a snake’s gaze, trembling violently with the bottles still in his hands.

“Taki wouldn’t give up the name no matter what,” Ibuki said calmly, approaching with slow, deliberate steps. “And it turns out, it was you.”

The terror grew with every step Ibuki took. Ryousuke dropped the bottles and tried to flee, but with his leg dragging behind and only a thin rod for support, he was too slow. Ibuki, moving far faster, grabbed him by the collar just before the door, dragging him backwards.

“St-stop—!”

For someone so slender, Ibuki was incredibly strong. He slammed Ryousuke to the floor and drove a foot into his back.

“Not only are you useless, now you’re getting in the way.”

His quiet voice was laced with fury. Ryousuke tried to push himself up, but Ibuki straddled him, pinning him down. He grabbed a handful of hair and began slamming Ryousuke’s head against the floor, again and again, without an ounce of restraint. A merciless violence that didn’t even acknowledge Ryousuke as human. The pain was so intense it was overtaken by fear, and his brain rattled, his voice failing him.

No one could’ve imagined such a worst-case scenario—being caught by Ibuki.

Then, for a moment, his head felt light. Ryousuke thought maybe the rage had passed—but the next instant, pain exploded in his right leg.

“GYAAAH!”

Ibuki twisted and yanked the already injured limb again and again. Every pull sent waves of agony surging through him, as though the leg might be torn clean off.

“Aah—ah—ugyaaah…”

His body convulsed with pain, and he nearly lost control of his bladder. As he writhed and wept, his blurred eyes caught sight of something in the corner of the room.

Taki.

Bound in rope and gagged, he sat trembling, staring at Ryousuke in horror.

"Hey, you. Just die already."

The devil whispered, grabbing a fistful of Ryousuke’s limp hair and jerking his head up.

"If you say ‘okay,’ I’ll forgive you. You just have to say it. After that, I’ll take care of everything."

“N-no…”

His face was slammed against the floor with a violent crack.

"I’ll even help you do it. Someone weak like you has no business being alive here."

Ibuki’s face suddenly came close, his breath brushing Ryousuke’s ear.

"…Please, just die."

Ryousuke’s eyes flew open just as Ibuki’s fingers clamped down on his throat. The air was cut off, and no sound could escape.

"Sorry about this."

Even as he muttered apologies, even as he trembled all over, Ibuki’s grip only tightened.

Ryousuke thrashed desperately, arms flailing, lungs burning—but gradually, something inside him began to go numb. In the moment he realized he might die, the floor before his eyes turned a hazy white.

Then suddenly, his body jolted, the weight on his back vanished, and his airway burst open. He gasped, gulping down air in ragged sobs, coughing violently with his face still pressed to the floor.

“Ryou-chan, are you okay?”

He was pulled upright. When he opened his eyes, Shinobu was there. Their gazes met, and he was pulled into a tight embrace. The realization that he was still alive unleashed a torrent of tears.

“I’m glad… I followed you.”

Shinobu rubbed his cheek against him, rough enough to sting. He didn’t shave properly again, Ryousuke thought vaguely, and clung to his loyal servant who had come to his rescue. Shinobu’s shoulders trembled.

“Shinobu… you’re with him, too?”

Ibuki, who had stood up behind them, swayed ominously as he spoke.

“What the hell were you doing to Ryou-chan!?”

Shinobu turned and shouted. Ibuki gave a vacant smile.

“Come on, Shinobu. Let’s kill him together. I know you two are close. But we’re at the point where we need to reduce our numbers. We have to cut down on mouths to feed. And by all rights, the weakest one should go first.”

“No! No way in hell!”

Shinobu clutched Ryousuke tighter.

“Then you both die.”

Ibuki struck Shinobu from behind. Shinobu winced, let go of Ryousuke, and fought back without hesitation. As the two began a fierce brawl, Ryousuke could only watch, trembling, still feeling Ibuki’s fingers around his throat.

A display case shattered as Shinobu was knocked into it. Pills rained to the ground as Ibuki collided with a shelf. It was the first time Ryousuke had ever seen Shinobu fight back. Even when they were attacked by the group that had taken over the basement, Shinobu hadn’t fought—he’d just taken the hits.

Now, his face twisted into a mask of fury, Shinobu looked like someone Ryousuke had never met before.

With a tremendous bang, Ibuki slammed into the wall and slumped down, unmoving. Shinobu stood, dazed, still gripping Ibuki’s shirt. When he let go, Ibuki crumpled at his feet.

Without even checking if he was truly unconscious, Shinobu stepped over him in a single stride and returned to Ryousuke. His bloodied hands wrapped around him, and then his iron-scented lips crushed against Ryousuke’s own.

A strange rattling made Ryousuke flinch. Taki was still tied up in the back, struggling on the floor. Shinobu glanced over, but quickly turned back, pretending nothing had happened.

“Go untie him.”

The look Shinobu gave made it clear he didn’t want to, but he didn’t protest. He did as Ryousuke asked.

Once freed, Taki rushed over, face crumpling as he repeatedly apologized.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I couldn’t pull off the switch. He had so much crap stuffed in there. He came back in the middle of it and caught me…”

“It’s fine. Enough already.”

A sharp pain ran through his throat, and Ryousuke touched it with his fingers. The memory of being strangled returned, and the trembling came back with it.

“Ryousuke, what should we do? What should we do about Ibuki? I don’t know anymore…”

Even now, Taki was looking to him for decisions. That dependence made Ryousuke feel a quiet sadness.

“Bind Ibuki’s hands so he can’t lash out if he wakes up. Then go get Tamura. Tell him everything. Leave the rest to his judgment.”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” Taki muttered again and again as he approached Ibuki. Ryousuke lowered his head and shut his eyes. Shinobu sat down beside him. An arm wrapped around his shoulder and gently pulled him in, and the last of his tension snapped. He slumped forward, buried his face in Shinobu’s lap, and wept—just a little.

“Ryousuke…”

He looked up when his name was called. Taki was standing there, looking down at him with a dazed expression.

“Ibuki’s not breathing.”

The facts and their conclusion didn’t quite connect in Ryousuke’s head. He tilted his head in confusion.

“He’s not breathing… I think he’s dead.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not! He’s really not breathing!”

Ryousuke turned to look at Shinobu, but even after hearing Taki’s words, Shinobu’s expression didn’t change. Ryousuke crawled over to Ibuki. He reached out with trembling hands—no response. Just like Taki said, no breath, no movement. As the realization of death set in, Ryousuke’s fingertips turned cold.

“I-It was self-defense, right? If Shinobu hadn’t fought back, Ryousuke would’ve been killed!”

Taki babbled in a rush, his voice rising with panic. The more he talked, the more muddled Ryousuke’s mind became. He had been on the verge of being killed—but the one who actually died was Ibuki. Shinobu had… killed him.

“It was Ibuki-san’s own fault,” Taki said, clenching his fists.

“If we hadn’t stopped that plan, everyone in the Matsui department store basement would’ve been poisoned. And he already killed someone. He’s a murderer. So even if he got killed, he has no right to complain.”

That final truth made Ryousuke’s heart feel a little lighter. Shinobu had killed Ibuki. But Ibuki had already taken a life. If he ended up being killed because of his own crimes… then maybe it was only right.

“Who did Ibuki-san kill?” Shinobu asked quietly, expressionless.

“Someone you didn’t know,” Taki said. “Shinobu, you didn’t do anything wrong. I really believe that.”

While Taki spoke with passion, the one who had done the killing remained eerily calm. It wasn’t clear if he was in shock, or simply unable to grasp what he’d done. That iciness in his demeanor… it was frightening.

“So Ibuki’s dead. What now… what the hell do we do now?”

Taki gripped his head, sounding completely lost. No one spoke. Time passed in silence.

If they told Tamura the truth, would Shinobu be punished? Ryousuke didn’t know what kind of judgment Tamura would make. But more than that, he wasn’t even sure Tamura had the right to judge Shinobu in the first place.

“…We’ll bury him outside,” Ryousuke murmured.

“There’s no need to tell anyone Shinobu killed him.”

Both of them looked at him.

“Ibuki was a murderer. That makes this okay. Whatever happened to him… it’s what he deserved.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

At the sole entrance to the subway shelter, where concrete met sand in a bright, glaring expanse, Ryousuke waited for his accomplices to return. He didn’t know where the two of them had gone to bury the body. The painful whiteness of the place seared his helpless guilt like a slow, silent roast.

They returned after about an hour, but Taki quickly set out again alone, carrying both their bags. It was to lend even the smallest credibility to the lie that he and Ibuki had become separated during the diplomatic visit.

While Ryousuke sat hugging his knees on the sand-dusted concrete, Shinobu came up and spoke.

“Ryou-chan, can you stand?”

He shook his head. Shinobu turned his back to him and knelt. As he was carried on Shinobu’s back, Ryousuke thought about the concept of “sin.” Shinobu had killed someone. But the one he killed had also been a murderer. What becomes of a murderer who kills another murderer? Does that lessen the weight of the crime, even a little?

Shinobu first returned to the excavation site and told Tamura, “Ryou-chan’s not feeling well, so I’d like to go back early.” Even after killing someone, there had been no trace of guilt or unease in his voice. On the way back to the store, Ryousuke ordered Shinobu to stop by the well.

“Wash your hands.”

Shinobu didn’t ask why. He simply obeyed and washed them. But Ryousuke kept saying, “Wash them again,” over and over—ten times in total. After the tenth time, Shinobu quietly murmured,

“Ryou-chan, no matter how many times I wash my hands, the fact that I killed Ibuki-san isn’t going to wash away.”

The words stabbed at his chest. Ryousuke dropped to his hands on the wet ground and groaned low.

“You couldn’t have gone a little easier?”

He knew better than anyone which words should and shouldn’t be said. But once they started coming out, he couldn’t stop.

“You didn’t have to beat him to death.”

“…Sorry.”

“Saying that to me doesn’t fix anything!”

After yelling, he hurriedly looked around to make sure no one was nearby. Then he looked again at Shinobu. Under the dim candlelight, his face bore no expression. No sadness… not even regret. And that was strange. Ryousuke, who hadn’t even laid a hand on Ibuki, still felt wracked with guilt for helping to bury the man’s body in secret. He kept wondering if they should’ve just confessed. Shinobu wasn’t a coldhearted person. Precisely because of that, his nonchalant attitude now felt deeply off.

“You don’t feel bad about it?”

Shinobu looked down.

“…I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“It’s like… my heart’s gone numb. I don’t know, nothing matters anymore.”

His wet hand reached for Ryousuke’s right hand.

“Other than you, Ryou-chan, nothing else really matters. So, so…”

Shinobu smiled.

“I guess it would’ve been better if I had died. Just like you said. If I’d died before I killed someone. But Ryou-chan, you wanted me to live. You said you were hungry. You said you needed help…”

“What the hell are you talking about!?”

“I love you.”

In the eyes that stared into his, Ryousuke saw a flicker of something unhinged. A chill ran down his spine. He grabbed the bucket of water they’d drawn and splashed it at Shinobu. The candle’s flame hissed out. In the dark, cold limbs wrapped around him. Water dripped, pattering softly in the silence.

“I know this is wrong. But even knowing that… there’s nothing I can do anymore, Ryou-chan.”

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