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Morning comes, neither of them have had their throats slit in their sleep, and, Chikusa thinks, he's had enough excitement for the week. Perhaps the rest of the month, even. All Ken needs to do is take one look at him to see the exhaustion in his eyes despite sleeping the entire night through before he announces that they'll be back to scavenging in Rudshore some more. Frankly, Chikusa isn't even sure that he has enough energy for that- he feels strangely lethargic, head filled with fog and fluff. Yet he's never been one to deny Ken anything, so he lets his best friend take the lead today and follows his nudges to change into another set of clothes. So out of it, he almost forgets the new addition to their rundown household up until he nearly crashes into Ken's back when the other boy abruptly comes to a stop.
Mukuro is in one of the rooms, window wide open and his feet lazily swinging through the air.
"You get up early," he says breezily, not even glancing back at them. "I think the sun has only just started to come up."
Around Chikusa's hand, Ken's fingers knead into him for stability. "We gotta," he answers matter of factly, more bold than Chikusa suspects he really feels. "There's a lot to do, y'know!"
"Are you going back into the city again?"
Another glance back to Chikusa, taking in the tired tilt of his head and heavy curve of his spine. "We still have stuff to go through here," Ken says, giving his hand a squeeze until Chikusa squeezes back.
Before they can say anything else or Ken can lead him away, Mukuro wiggles off of the window ledge and hops back down onto the floor. With the light streaming back onto him and cleaned of any blood, he looks almost normal, now. There's still that smile on his face, calm and relaxed as anything, saying he knows everything they don't. "Well, can I come along too? I want to see the rest of the flooded district."
'Flooded District', now, not Rudshore anymore. Well, Chikusa guesses that makes sense. 'Rudshore' sounds like a place people live in, and no one does that anymore. Not besides him and Ken.
The second Ken looks to him, he knows what he has to do, and Chikusa heaves out a breath and an answer. "If you want, I guess..." It's for the better anyway. If Mukuro is with them, then that means they won't have to worry about him poking at things they don't want him to, or somehow finding his way into their space in the attic. "Just be careful.... There are a lot of things in Rudshore that aren't sturdy anymore."
Mukuro look amused by the warning, but he nods anyway as he walks over to settle on Ken's other side- not like the blond would let him get any closer as evidenced by the way he bristles in deterrence. "Don't worry, I know how to make my way around dangerous places."
It's not all talk, either. As they make their way through Rudshore, through crumbling territory that is becoming more and more familiar with each passing day for the two of them, Mukuro keeps pace just fine. He has Ken's reflexes, leaping easily across gaps between buildings tucked close, and he has Chikusa's eyes, pointing out the growing colonies of River Krusts and unsteady floors. Really, by the time they're poking about the Refinery just to see if anything was left behind in the rush, Chikusa is left wondering just what the other boy is doing with a pair like them. However, even as he thinks it, it's Ken who voices it, throwing rocks around the corner at a solitary River Krust.
"Where'd you come from, anyway?" He ducks as acidic spit goes through the air, splashing into the ankle-high water that surrounds them. Chikusa eyes it suspiciously, using a plank he'd picked up nearby to poke the thick glob away from them. "Was she that much of a bitch?"
"Ken," Chikusa sighs, disapproving, but Mukuro doesn't seem to mind much at all as he flips some of his hair back and tightens his grip around his knife.
"One letter off," he laughs, peeking carefully around the corner himself, pale fingers fluttering over Ken's shoulder, barely touching him. "My mother was a witch."
Ken jerks upright, eyes wide in wonder, and Chikusa presses closer without thinking, amazed and scared both in his silence. "Really!?" his best friend exclaims, no terror of any kind in his voice, because of course there wouldn't be. There are a million things in the world to be frightened of, and Ken isn't scared of even a teaspoon of them. "Do you know magic!? Can you curse people, is that what you did to those guys that were chasing us!?"
Like with anyone meeting Ken for the first time, the sheer amount of his exuberance seems to blow Mukuro back, eyebrows raised as he leans away in reaction to the blond's gleefully interrogative lean forward. It only takes him a second for him to adjust, however, holding himself tall and preening. "I might," he purrs, twirling the knife between his fingers now, metal gleaming as it catches the light. "That's really why she was so insistent I leave, if I'm honest. It'd be embarrassing, after all, if a witch's son usurped her."
"Could you have?" Ken asks, eager, fingers twining around Chikusa's in response to the other's crowding. His voice is a hushed whisper. "Could you really have beaten a witch?"
The question sparks a fire in Mukuro's mismatched eyes and, before either of them can stop him, he's whirling around the corner. Yelling- Ken in excitement, Chikusa alarm- the two of them trip through the water to watch as Mukuro dodges the Krust's vile spit like an owl gliding flawlessly through the dark knight, twisting around it in a heartbeat on light feet. The River Krust's shell is still open, not quick enough to shut, when Mukuro drives his knife straight into its vulnerable insides and gives an almost malicious twist. A noise, a gurgle, and Chikusa stares with wide eyes as it goes slack.
Not finished just yet, Mukuro fearlessly thrusts his hand inside and, with a grunt, tugs out a pearl that cradles easily in the palm of his hand and shines just as brightly as his knife did in the sunlight. "I," he announces, rosy cheeked and bright eyed, "can beat anything."
Whooping, Ken races over to Mukuro, and Chikusa nearly slips in his haste to follow after. "That was awesome!! I want to do that!"
"Ken, you aren't allowed to do that!" Still shaky from secondhand adrenaline, Chikusa comes to a stop in front of the dead Krust and, thus, Mukuro himself. This close, it's easy to see not only the way the other boy's face is flushed from exertion, but how that bright red stands out all the harder against skin that's become horribly pale. Even as Mukuro shifts his hands behind his back, shifting his balance to one leg and looking coy, Chikusa thinks he can spot a slight shake to them. He doesn't say anything, however, watching as Ken remains oblivious and enamored.
"Show me how to take out River Krusts like that!"
"Ken..."
"Well," Mukuro hums, tilting his head back and glancing down at them from the meager bit of height he has over them from his perch of rubbish, "I can do it because I was raised by witches. But maybe I could find the time to teach you how to do things like that..." Ken whoops, spinning in the water and sending it flying everywhere. While Chikusa blocks it wearily with one hand, Mukuro hops down and passes him by. "But for now..." And he slips the pearl into his hand, winking to the bespectacled boy without missing a step. "I can definitely tell you about all sorts of other things I learned about before my mother couldn't stand me to stay near her."
"Tell me all of them!" Ken demands eagerly twisting after him. With Chikusa still blinking in confused shock, Ken takes advantage of the fact and tugs him along gleefully. "C'mon, Kakipii!"
In a twist that's not surprising at all, indulging Ken's ravenous curiosity and excitement takes up the entire day, but Mukuro welcomes his constant focus even as the three of them dig through Rudshore's ruins some more. Even more than that- he basks in the attention, balancing on exposed beams and hopping across gaping holes in wooden floors. For all that the day is supposed to be more relaxed, Chikusa ends up having to do more damage control than anything in restraining Ken's eagerness to mimic their new bit of company. Everything passes by in a blur and, by the time they return home, he's honestly and genuinely befuddled that they managed to find enough things for the three of them at all. When they finally return, Chikusa sinks down onto the floor of his room and stares dully at the cooling sky outside his window. In the room not far off, he thinks he can hear Ken scurrying to fetch one of the lamps that they've hoarded in the past months. At least there's one good thing: being in Rudshore means there's always whale oil to go after. No one has even tried to come and forage the remains, at least not that he's ever seen or heard about. He supposes it would all be too much wasted effort for not a lot of gain for anyone who isn't living like him and Ken.
From the corner of his eye, he sees a bit of movement, and watches as Mukuro comes further into the room. Loathe as he is to do anything else today besides eat and go to sleep, Chikusa forces his body into sitting upright a little more so that he can watch the other boy further. They'd all agreed to eat supper together, sure, but.... he still can't help his caution. He doesn't want to, either, not when he has to keep an eye on Ken and make sure his best friend stays alright.
Mukuro is a lot more subdued away from Ken's exuberance, eyes reflecting strangely in the fading light as he settles down on the floor not too far away from him, and his smile is back to be a little more relaxed and knowing. "Did he wear you out that easily?" he asks, sounding faintly amused.
Brows drawing together, Chikusa thins his lips. "You were both really exhausting, yeah," he says, not inclined to let him slither away from the responsibility. To his credit, at least Mukuro gives a shrug that's almost apologetic.
"I thought the pearl would make up for it all," he says glibly. "Don't you like it?"
"A pearl isn't going to do anything for me..."
That's not really true, and they both know it. However, Mukuro says nothing to argue against the statement, only glances over him again and hums. "I can see how the two of you have been living here if you're so practical," he says, still smiling. "You must be prepared for all sorts of things."
Faintly, Chikusa thinks of not only various sorted piles up in the attic but of blood on his hands and his fingers slick around a knife. "I guess," he answers quietly. It doesn't seem to be an answer that Mukuro can really work with, and the rest of their time is spent in silence with both of them simply watching each other carefully until Ken returns with a lamp in one hand and a can opener in the other. A meager dinner is split between the three of them, Mukuro amuses Ken with more stories of witches and wildness, and, eventually, they all go to sleep again much like they had the night before.
And life goes on.
Mukuro makes life a little bit easier, in the passing days, just by virtue of having another set of eyes and hands available. He seems fine with just getting used to life in Rudshore, and shows no intention of moving on to find a place of his own although there are certainly plenty of places that he could find, surely. Sometimes he disappears, going off to who knows where, and Chikusa thinks that will be the last of him- but no. Inevitably, before the sun disappears, he's back again. Chikusa keeps an eye on him just in case, for whenever he distracts Ken with stories, and is resigned to this intrusion in their life.
So is how their life is, until the day a hagfish thrashes out of Ken's grip and its gaping jaws dig through his cheek and goes jittering over the bridge of his nose.
Jerking back with a sharp swear, Ken drops the thing, but Chikusa doesn't even see how the fish flops viciously against the floorboards. Everything in him is focused on the blood streaming down Ken's face, and he shouts in alarm, at his best friend's side in a heartbeat. "Ken!"
"Outsider's stupid crusty asshole-!"
Any other day, Chikusa would berate him for the language. He can't spare a single thought for it right now, instead grabbing Ken's hand and jerking him away from the hagfish still flopping on the ground and onto his old bed. Mukuro is already taking care of it regardless, knife going straight into the creature with practiced timing, although Chikusa is only aware of his actions in the faintest of ways. Right now, he's focusing on pressing the sheets up against the wound on Ken's face. It spreads so quickly, a growing stain of crimson that stands out against fading white, and he can barely hear his own panicked breathing over Ken's whimpering.
"Ken-" He swallows down air, forces his mind to think. He's read about this. He's seen diagrams and listened to maids gossip about injuries drunkard husbands had gotten while at the bars. This can be fixed. Chikusa reminds himself of that. This can be fixed. "Ken, just press down with the sheet, okay? Keep this here, even if it stings. Got it?" All he needs is Ken's reluctant nod before he leaps off of the bed, rushing to their room. Mukuro is still awake, still around, but Chikusa doesn't care as he tugs down the ladder to the attic. Beneath all the things they've accumulated throughout the months, it's a chore he has no patience for to find some of their medical supplies, but he does, breathless all the while.
Ken is right where he left him, and the fish has been left to bleed out while pinned to the carpet in favor of Mukuro joining him on the bed. He peers with interest at the soaked-through sheet the blond is still obediently holding up, although he doesn't mess with it himself. Taking in a deep shuddering breath and feeling a thousand miles away, buzzing in his ears, Chikusa settles down on Ken's other side. Biting his lip, he gently pushes Ken's hand away. The wound is no longer gushing out blood, although it's still dripping slowly down onto his shirt. Another deep breath. He can't feel his fingers again, even as he's watching them gently begin the process of rinsing the wound with a small flask of water. "It'll be okay, Ken," he hears, past all the buzzing and his own beating heart.
"Hurts," he grumbles, but it's all he says, falling utterly quiet and his eyes focused straight on him. Chikusa ignores it, patting the wet space dry with what of the sheet isn't soaked through with red, and then carefully applies some salve. Distantly, he's reminded of sweeter times, leaning over in his father's office and applying a salve to a much tinier inconsequential wound on Ken's face.
If only things were so simple and small like then.
By the time he finishes, he's wrapped bandages clumsily but securely around Ken's head to cover the wound, and he squirms in clear discomfort just from their presence. "Don't pick at them," Chikusa warns him firmly, swatting at his hands. "You can't mess with that at all, okay, Ken? Now stay here."
Immediately, Ken jerks up, eyes sharp. "What, why, where are you going?" All that seems to soothe him is Chikusa's hand settling over his.
"One of us has to cook dinner, Ken... You need to recover, okay? You have to get better."
While he scrunches up his mouth, Ken doesn't disagree. Instead, he flips his hand up, slotting his fingers neatly inbetween Chikusa's. "Okay, but come back, got it, Kakipii?" Bright brown eyes meet his head on. "Come back." It's an order, a plea woven quietly around each syllable, and Chikusa can't say he's oblivious to what Ken means. For all that he squeezes Ken's hand back, for all that he gets up to his feet instead of sitting on the bed, he can't really feel any of it. The world is distant and, if not for a single person in it, inconsequential.
That includes Mukuro, a ghost who trails after Chikusa to the fireplace in the room next over to his parents', although his helpfulness and preparing the fish for cooking is definitely useful. It doesn't really matter until Chikusa feels like he's come a little more into himself, like the fire is reigniting his ability to feel, and suddenly he's exhausted. This always happens when he "leaves", his body and all his emotions quietly sinking him down to the bottom from the weight of it all. It's not an experience he likes, but it's one he's resigned himself to.
As he's fighting weariness, eyes focused dully on the roasting fish, Mukuro finally speaks up. "That was really clever of you." Blinking into awareness, Chikusa glances over to him. Those mismatched eyes are focused on him almost as intensely as Ken's had been only moments before. "Knowing how to take care of him like that, I mean. Has he gotten into a lot of scrapes like that before?"
Shaking his head, Chikusa murmurs, "No.... Not really... We're usually careful enough..."
"Then how did you know what to do?"
Mukuro is leaning a little more forward, now, and there's something about the intensity in his gaze that makes Chikusa shy. It's silly, honestly, because he's been with Ken for years now, and Ken burns as bright as the summer sun. But... that seems different than Mukuro's brand of intensity. Ducking his head, he shrugs. "I've read things. My father had books in the library, so... I read."
"Aren't those kind of books really hard?"
A minute nod. "I had to look things up a lot." Carefully, he glances up again, and is almost startled by how close Mukuro is to him... and how the other boy is nodding in blatant approval.
"You must be really smart, then. Ken is lucky that you're with him all the time."
Heat blossoms across Chikusa's face, hotter than the flames licking at the fish, and he focuses hard on them like that will make up for what Mukuro is saying to him. "It doesn't matter how smart I am if we don't have a lot of things to wrap around his face," he says, not sure how to handle the compliment and thus ignoring it. "We don't find things like that a lot... Not in Rudshore, at least, not anymore."
"Oh? Does that means you're going to go back into the city, then?"
Chikusa falls silent. That's.... what he should do. That's what he needs to do, in fact. If Rudshore is devoid of the kind of supplies they need, then the only logical choice is to go into the rest of Dunwall. Yet when he thinks about it... the towering buildings, the throngs of people sweeping him away like the tide....
That, he knows he could stomach, if only for Ken's sake and not a single other living soul in the world. But then he thinks of the sneering pawnshop owner, and the bitter twist of alcohol hanging around the City Watch, and Chikusa feels sick to his stomach. Those kinds of things, he can't face them on his own. He simply can't. Merely thinking about it makes him want to pull back again, to 'leave' despite his assurance to Ken. Honestly, he's not sure how it doesn't happen. Finally remembering Mukuro is there, that he has to answer him, Chikusa nods slowly. "I'll have to sell things to get enough supplies." His teeth catch on his lower lip. "But.... it's hard." Even with Ken at his side, all protective violence, they weren't able to get nearly as much as he had hoped from selling his mother's ring.
An amused noise from Mukuro finally draws Chikusa's gaze back to him, and he flips his hair back casually. "Because of how stingy the shopkeeps are?" he asks, and seems smug when a nod is the answer. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. I know all sorts of tricks which will make them give you more money for things."
"...Really?"
"Mhm." Reaching for the long forks which keep the fish in the fire, Mukuro carefully starts to remove it. "It's not hard, once you know how to talk to people. A lot of them are the same." And, casually, "I learned that from witches too."
Chikusa doesn't pay it any mind. He just leans forward to help with the fish, casting uncertain but tentatively hopeful glances at him. "And they really work? The tricks that will make them pay more for things?"
"Of course."
"Then..." This is new territory, something he's never had to do before, but it needs to be done. So, Chikusa takes a quiet breath as they start to cut the fish up. "Will you come with me into Dunwall tomorrow, then?"
From the corner of his eye, he can see Mukuro's lips curl in a satisfied smile. "Of course."
"Let me go with you!" Ken says when Chikusa tells him of the plan the next morning, predictable as the sun. "I want to go into the city!"
"No." Chikusa squares his shoulders and sets his jaw, going stern like he remembers his father doing. "You're still hurt, Ken. Anyway, you'd just draw attention to yourself, because everybody would look at you with bloody bandages on your face." And they are bloody, spots of red showing through the white and only growing with every passing hour. Anxiety strangles Chikusa's lungs whenever he notices. "We'll be back, we won't leave.... So just... stay, okay? We'll come back."
Tension and dissatisfaction are writ all over Ken's face, eyes dark and mouth twisted, and Chikusa thinks for a second that he'll have to argue with his best friend even more. After a moment, however, he reaches over to tightly grip his fingers. "Promise."
"I promise. We'll come back. We're just going to get more bandages and things like that."
With that, Ken reluctantly lets go of his hand. "You better."
"I will." Promise made, he turns back to the doorway where Mukuro is patiently waiting, and, together, they set out for Dunwall.
Just like in Rudshore, Mukuro is clever and quick as he looks out for any of the City Watch, and he slips into the crowds on the street like a hagfish through water. Chikusa doesn't dare hold his hand; this isn't Ken. Instead, he has to fight and struggle to stay right behind him so that they don't become separated. Although it's not as bad as the time when him and Ken had gone out together, it's still overwhelming, and all Chikusa can do to combat it without his anchor nearby is to focus directly on Mukuro's back.
The unfortunate drawback of this is that he doesn't pay a single bit of attention to where they're actually going, and his mouth goes dry when he realizes this, eyes landing on unfamiliar shop names and streets. Mukuro has stopped just a little ways from him, glancing up at one shop in particular, and hums when Chikusa steps close. "You could always hold my hand if you'd like," he drawls, but it sounds almost mocking, in a way, and Chikusa shakes his head.
He'll be fine. He'll be strong. For Ken, he has to be.
"Have you been here before?" he asks, investigating the shop through the window. It's a little cleaner than the first one he went to, he has to admit. A good sign? Clean people care, at least, if only about their appearances.
"Not at all," Mukuro answers glibly, stepping besides him. "But I'd heard about it before I went to the flooded district, and it doesn't sound that bad. Anyway, did you bring what you wanted to sell?"
Nodding, Chikusa lays his hands onto the bag he has slung over his shoulder. "A pearl, a necklace, and a ring," he tells him quietly. It's his worse case scenario: if they still can't get a lot no matter what tricks Mukuro knows, then he'll gladly sell more just to make enough to buy what they need.
Mukuro falls quiet himself, thinking with what looks like considerable care to Chikusa's eyes. "Then what we'll want to do.... is that we'll find someone to regularly sell things like the pearl to. That's easy to get away with, after all, because boys like us usually are used to get pearls from River Krusts, right?"
Chikusa shrugs rigidly, not sure of what to say. This sounds like something Ken would know, but not him. He never questioned where the pearls of his mother's necklaces came from, only that she had them. Even his curiosity didn't venture everywhere, let alone something like that.
Fortunately, it doesn't look like Mukuro is really interested in an actual response, because he keeps on talking. "For things like jewelry, it'll be a little harder." His eyes flick to Chikusa, a smile playing on his lips. "And it gets attention like those thugs, I bet." As Chikusa thins his lips, unable to deny that, Mukuro continues, "we'll have to go around the city every time we want to sell something, at least until it's been long enough that you'll have probably been forgotten by some." Idly, he waves his hand through the air. "But we can worry about that in the future. For now, we'll just have to go to another shop after we sell something here."
"....So the pearl or the jewelry first...?"
Narrowing his eyes, Mukuro taps his chin before nodding. "Pearl. It should be simple enough." Having decided, he starts to ooze confident satisfaction again, and there's that grin once more directed at Chikusa. "So you want to learn tricks to get the most money for your things, right?" A nod as an answer, and he grins wider. "Start high. Don't let them decide the starting price. Make them bring you down to something you still want and that's more acceptable for them. It makes them think they've done well."
Blinking, Chikusa goes over the idea. That... makes sense, now that he thinks about it, although he's not sure how confident he is about doing it himself. "Won't they see through what we're trying to do?"
Another careless handwave. "When it's children, or women, they won't think they're clever enough for that," he explains. "Anyway, you should go first."
His heart freezes in his chest. "What?"
"You should go for a hundred coin to start with," Mukuro continues, about to say something else before he trails off to inspect Chikusa carefully. "It's not that hard," he adds.
Chikusa sort of wants to snap at him, to tell him that of course Mukuro wouldn't find it difficult- not when he's so confident and dangerous and knows what he's doing. All he does instead is thin his lips. "Then why don't you do it?"
"It's more believable if it's someone like you. You look proper and like you won't do anything." Well. He guesses he can't argue with that, not with his upbringing and how adults had praised him for being a quiet and polite child. Still, he must seem uncertain, because Mukuro says, "I'll be right there with you, of course. Nothing will go wrong then."
That's not really the reassurance he wants, not the person he wants, but Chikusa will take what he can get. After glancing at him to make sure that Mukuro won't just ditch him, he ducks inside the pawnshop. It's a lot cleaner than the first one him and Ken went to, the floor clearly having been swept not that long ago and shelves organized neatly. There's a man behind the counter, broad shouldered and missing what looks like a chunk of his cheek. At least, that's what it looks like to Chikusa, although he'll admit that there's a beard in the way so he can't be sure. While physically he seems more intimidating, he doesn't have the same aggression as the other pawnshop owner when he looks up to the see the two boys. Instead, there's just a raise of his eyebrow. "You boys lost?"
Chikusa shakes his head and glances to Mukuro, but he's not really paying attention to the conversation or the clerk. He's simply curiously browsing the things on the nearest shelves. Glancing back, swallowing thickly, Chikusa forces himself a few steps forward. "No, but.... We'd like to sell something."
Putting down the pocket watch he'd apparently been going over before the two of them stepped inside, the man rests his arms on the counter and gestures them closer with a few twitches of his finger. "Not filched, is it?" Chikusa shakes his head from side to side, hard, hair flopping all over. "Alright, alright, calm down. Whatcha got, then?"
Reaching into his bag, his fingers find the smooth curve of the pearl and he pulls it out, clutched in his palm until he can show it with his fingers slowly unfurling. "It's a pearl.... We got it from a River Krust." A lot more interest sparks in the clerk's eyes and he leans a little more forward to get a better look at it. Chikusa keeps his hand up, although warily- it feels like it would be too easy for an adult to just snatch the pearl out of his hand. For a second, he almost forgets to speak, but then he remembers Mukuro's advice and hastily says, "Could we get 100 coin for it?"
The man snorts, although it's not with any particular malice. Just incredulity. "You aren't giving me solid gold, kid. I know Krust pearls are tough ta get out of 'em, but just one's not worth that much. Especially one like that." Tapping his fingers against the wood, he considers for a moment before giving a different offer. "25 coin. Not bad, innit? Could get ya somethin' nice for your mum with that." When Chikusa balks, he sighs. "30, even, maybe, after I've had a look at it to make sure you're not pulling at my leg."
Chikusa glances back at Mukuro, trying to see what he thinks if anything, and he's finally looking back to the proceedings at hand. However, there's nothing in his expression that's really helpful, and Chikusa looks up at the clerk once more. "Are you sure we couldn't get more?" he asks, feeling a little faint as if the air is too hot to breathe. "It's not small.... So it could go for a pretty high price, right?" Words are lodging in his throat, threatening to choke him, and Chikusa isn't entirely sure how he gets them out. "What if it was 70?"
"They don't go that high, kid," the clerk says, although Chikusa wonders how true that is. "Maybe 40, and that's me being generous."
"50!" Mukuro finally speaks up from besides Chikusa, arms crossed and his eyes eternally bright. "That's already half what he wanted, so it wouldn't be fair to go any lower. C'mon, Mister!"
Heaving out a sigh, the clerk holds out one thick calloused hand. "We'll see once I take a look at this pearl," he says grudgingly. "Check if it's really fifty coin like you two seem to think." Worried but desperate, Chikusa quietly drops the coin in his palm and fairly clings to the counter as the man starts to inspect it. This means using a lot of different little tools, although the main one seems to be looking at it with something that seems to function like a tiny little scope of some sort. It must only take a few minutes, logically, but time drags on in Chikusa's mind. The weight of it all only leaves him when the man finally pulls the scope away and looks reluctantly impressed as he gives his verdict. "Well, it looks like you boys got lucky.... In more ways than one, since it looks like you both still got your eyes." The pearl clicks gently as he places it down onto the counter. "Fine- 50 coin."
All the worry and adrenaline in him is rushed out with the breath he releases, and leaves in its wake a shakiness in him, one that threatens to unmoor him from his own skull, but he still manages out a quiet, "Thank you."
"Mm." As he starts to count out the coins on the counter, he asks, "You two plan on getting any more pearls out of them River Krusts?"
Chikusa isn't sure if he can answer, or if he could supply something that affirms one answer or the other. Thankfully, it looks like Mukuro has gotten tired of being quiet. "We might," he says glibly, like he didn't shake after taking care of the River Krust responsible for their current gain. "Why?"
"Well, if you ever get some more pearls without getting their spit all over you, maybe come back again." He slides the coins across the counter, where Chikusa dutifully and silently begins to put them into his bag. "I know a few people who wouldn't mind seeing some more of these."
"Well, I guess we'll let you know then," Mukuro says, obviously pleased, but Chikusa is already shuffling back out to the door, and Mukuro's footsteps soon join him not too far behind. Once they're out in the fresh air again and down the street a little, he laughs triumphantly. "See? I told you it was easy." He glances to him, only to pause as he looks at Chikusa.
At least, Chikusa thinks he's looking at him. That might not be real. Nothing feels real. It's like he's dreaming, or underwater, weightless and strange and he can't feel anything again. Not even the strap of his bag, although he knows that his fingers are wrapped around it and that it's digging into his shoulder. A kind of buzzing is going on in the very deepest parts of his ears, and.... Is Mukuro talking? He's saying something, but the buzzing is louder now, drowning it out, and it seems so much more distant....
Chikusa nods, even though he can't hear the words he's agreeing to. He doesn't want to seem weak, even though he is, here on his own without Ken there to steady him. As he tries to remember to just keep moving forward, Mukuro moves more into view, and reaches down to take his hand. Chikusa lets him pull him along and doesn't even try to ask where they're going; what would the use be? He simply retreats into his own head as Mukuro pulls his body along, simultaneously aware of everything while also not seeing any of it. At some point, they sit down. At some point, he closes his eyes.
It's not sleep, and yet, when he opens them again, the sun is so much further along in the sky than he remembers it to have been. His messenger bag is still around his shoulders, the weight of it nestled on his lap with his fingers curled over it, and, most surprising of all, Mukuro is besides him. They're on the steps that lead to a small little side street off of the main one, with the hum of the crowd bustling behind them (and when did that replace the buzzing in his ears?) Elbows digging into his knees, Mukuro has his hands pressed together and fingers tapping at his lips. It takes him a few seconds before he happens to glance at Chikusa and stirs. "Oh? Are you feeling better now?"
He's feeling a little exhausted, actually, as if someone took his brain from his skull and tossed it around a little before letting it ooze back into its proper place. Instead of saying that, Chikusa nods again, but this time he manages to get some words out as well. "How long has it been?"
"Mmm.... A few hours I suppose," Mukuro muses, and only seems faintly amused when Chikusa gives a jolt. "There's no need to worry, you know."
"But Ken! We need to get everything for him!"
"I don't think you were in the right place to be getting anything for anyone, honestly." As Chikusa flinches, Mukuro continues to talk. "But we still have the whole day, and those bandages should hold just fine." That's a fairly optimistic view, considering this is Ken, but he says nothing and allows the other boy keep going. "Anyway, I'll take charge for the next shop. I think you could use the break." There's no argument there, only tired obedience as he follows after Mukuro again when he leads the way through the crowd.
It's easy to do, too. Mukuro doesn't have Ken's complete and utter ease in slipping through the crowds, but he makes up for it in somehow drawing the eye to him, and Chikusa can just follow after the signature spiky ponytail he has with minimal trouble now. As before, he doesn't really pay much mind to where they're going with the world still seeming a little off, but, in no time at all, they're in front of another shop and he's passively handing over his mother's jewelry to Mukuro. Words are said, numbers exchanged, but all he does is stand there.
He's still so tired.
The only thing that stirs him is the cold feel of coin in his hands, and he forges onwards to the general store. Distantly, he's aware that people take to him well, quiet and automatically polite when spoken to, but all he's truly focused on is getting bandages and herbs, along with some other things that he recalls they don't have but really do need. It depletes most of the money they earned, but wasn't that the point, anyway? When he's finally done, bag heavy around his shoulders, Mukuro guides them back again. It's only then that he realizes how long the shadows have gotten, the sky awash with deep maroon and aching orange.
Jerking, he lurches forward to grab Mukuro's hand. "Come on! We have to get back!" Without waiting for a response, he starts to hurry forward and drags him along.
Mukuro's laugh is incredulous. "And now you're getting worked up! You really don't-"
"Come on!"
If there are any City Watch around, they're not lurking by the pub near the street that leads back to Rudshore, and that's the only important thing to Chikusa. By the time they're going down the familiar street, everything is practically pitch, and if it wasn't so simple and he wasn't so familiar with it... He's sure they would be lost.
Except it's not completely pitch, not for long, and Chikusa slows as he sees a light glowing bright in the distance, suddenly wary. Behind him, he hears the faint noise that is Mukuro sliding his knife out of hiding. Maybe it's some homeless person trying to find refuge in what's clearly an abandoned district. Maybe it's looters, late to the party but desperate to dig through and find anything at all, even a coin. Maybe it's nothing at all. There's no need to panic, not yet. Maybe it's nothing. Holding his breath and fingers wrapped as tight as he can manage around his shoulder strap, Chikusa forces himself to step closer and closer until he can see past the glow.
It's not nothing.
It's Ken.
For all that he's the one sitting near the lamp there on the steps, he must have been there for ages glaring into the darkness, because the blond reacts first by leaping up to his feet with a shout. "Kakipii!" He bolts forward, and Chikusa barely has any time to prepare himself before Ken is barreling into him. "You came back!" There's something twisted in his throat, makes it broken like all the wood and stone that makes up Rudshore now, and that finally has Chikusa reaching up to dig his fingers into Ken's arms.
"Ken! You're supposed to be back home- why aren't you in bed!?" As Ken pulls away a little, Chikusa sucks in a sharp breath. The makeshift bandages are still in place, but they're soaked through now, and there's spots where it's clear that at some point Ken had to retie them. He can't tell if it's because he was always bleeding that bad, or that they've gotten worse because Ken was running around all the way from home to here. "Your face-"
"You didn't come back!" The ragged desperation in Ken's voice knocks him silent, and his voice might as well be locked away forever when those wide eyes pierce into him. He's never seen Ken this upset. Not even when he had hagfish teeth in his face, which had to hurt more than anything. "It just- it kept getting later, and later, and you didn't come back!"
He didn't come back. Chikusa's throat closes in on itself, like he's being choked. Just like his parents didn't come back, like no one else came back, for either of them.
His fingers dig into Ken's shirt, as if he can tell him with that sole gesture that he'll never leave him alone, not like the rest of the world has. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, aching with the words. "Just- let me fix your face, okay?" Gently, he guides Ken back down to the steps, and begin the long process of peeling bandages from his skin.
As he does so, Mukuro settles down besides Ken, and flicks his ear. "I told you I would bring him back, didn't I?" he says, something which is news to Chikusa, but which Ken doesn't dispute. "We just had to go to a few places, and it took some time." There's no mention of what Chikusa went through, or how he simply 'left', and he's not sure if he's grateful or not.
"How come you had to go to different places?" Ken asks, ignoring when Chikusa tsks at him for moving much when he's trying to clean his face with a flask of fountain water.
"Stop that.... And we couldn't sell everything on one place, so we sold the pearl to one person and the jewelry to another person. And then we had to go find a store for bandages and things. Seriously, Ken, stop moving...."
It doesn't take long before Ken's face is re-bandaged by lamplight, and Chikusa dares to trust Mukuro with keeping him safe and steady while he leads the way back home. It's not something they've done often, traveling through Rudshore in the dark, so he's extra careful as he lights the way, until, finally, they're stepping carefully into familiar wet floor, and going up the stairs to what's become home. By that point, Ken is already uncharacteristically tired again, eyes drooping, and Chikusa herds him to his parents' room where they can stoke the fireplace, and the chill from the broken windows have long since been blocked up with whatever could work. It'll be good for him, he thinks. Especially when he's so weak and tired that Chikusa wouldn't dare have him climb the ladder up to their attic space and risk him falling.
Any other night, and he'd leave it at that, more secure with the knowledge that Mukuro was in another room. This night, however, as the other boy starts to leave, Chikusa hesitates for only a moment before calling out. "Mukuro?" Pausing, he looks back at him. "Do... you want to stay in here tonight with the fire?"
A flicker of a smile. "It'd be warmer," he admits, and soon enough the three of them are nested in a blanket pile. Ken is already asleep, mouth half open and drool trickling out, but the bandages are still clean and white. As he nestles besides him, Chikusa looks over at Mukuro.
"Thank you," he whispers quietly before he squeezes his eyes shut, not sure if he wants to see the reaction.
After that, it's so much easier to be around Mukuro. Ken even eases up a little when he knows that the other boy is at Chikusa's side when they go out into Rudshore, foraging for food or supplies or things to sell. Chikusa has to admit it makes him feel a little better, too. Mukuro has so many ideas and suggestions to offer; all Chikusa has to do is let himself listen to them. Let himself accept them. When he does, it's amazing how much more energy he suddenly finds himself having. All this time, he'd been frittering it away on worrying about Ken, and anxiety on their supplies, and... He's known, for months, that life is so much harder when it's just him and Ken on their own without parents or servants or family to watch over them. It's just that he'd never realized that so much of that exhaustion was from having to think. But with Mukuro with them, he doesn't have to shoulder that burden alone.
It's.... nice. And Mukuro is nice, giving him sweet words about how careful and intelligent he is with Ken's wound, praising him for when he thinks of a way to save food or money. By all means, Mukuro is still troublesome in a lot of ways, and tiring, but he manages to keep Ken distracted- which is good, since Ken still needs to stay inside and recover and he'd be driven up the wall without something to keep his attention. Still, even with that, it's a relief when the skin has finally healed enough over the wounds and Ken no longer has to have bandages tied securely around his face. Once again, Chikusa and Ken join together with more than a little relief... but now there's Mukuro there, too.
The only difference is that it no longer feels like he's an outsider.
And, without him feeling like an outsider, it's unbelievable in Chikusa's eyes how much easier things become. Not only foraging throughout Rudshore and backalleys, but when they make it through Dunwall, too. It doesn't look so unusual when it's three boys their age all together, just another pack of kids wandering through the streets, and, after the first few times, Chikusa feels his breath become more natural. Mukuro lets Ken lead them, most of time, because Ken seems to know Dunwall in a way that's almost instinctual, like it's carved into his bones, but soon they fall in tandem with each other. Ken knows the way, Mukuro knows who to go after, and Chikusa knows what they deserve.
It's still not easy, especially with one more mouth to feed, but it's a little bit better.
With anxiety no longer weighing him down, Chikusa realizes that he doesn't mind Mukuro's stories as much, either, and he's glad to curl up with Ken in the blankets by the fire or glow of a lamp as the boy amazes them with witch tales. One night, however, as he finishes gesturing dramatically, he looks down at the two of them with a considering shine to his mismatched eyes.
"You know," he says slowly, "these stories don't have to just be stories. We could do all the things that witches do, if we wanted."
Ken bolts up, bright and intense as the fire before them. "What, how!?" he asks, already eager before he knows the details while Chikusa is a bit more cautious as he pushes himself to his knees. Smiling with the edge of some great secret, Mukuro crouches down and leans close, the action which draws Ken and Chikusa nearer as well without them having to even think twice about it. His voice is quiet but burning as he whispers to them.
"What do you know of the Outsider?"
Mukuro is in one of the rooms, window wide open and his feet lazily swinging through the air.
"You get up early," he says breezily, not even glancing back at them. "I think the sun has only just started to come up."
Around Chikusa's hand, Ken's fingers knead into him for stability. "We gotta," he answers matter of factly, more bold than Chikusa suspects he really feels. "There's a lot to do, y'know!"
"Are you going back into the city again?"
Another glance back to Chikusa, taking in the tired tilt of his head and heavy curve of his spine. "We still have stuff to go through here," Ken says, giving his hand a squeeze until Chikusa squeezes back.
Before they can say anything else or Ken can lead him away, Mukuro wiggles off of the window ledge and hops back down onto the floor. With the light streaming back onto him and cleaned of any blood, he looks almost normal, now. There's still that smile on his face, calm and relaxed as anything, saying he knows everything they don't. "Well, can I come along too? I want to see the rest of the flooded district."
'Flooded District', now, not Rudshore anymore. Well, Chikusa guesses that makes sense. 'Rudshore' sounds like a place people live in, and no one does that anymore. Not besides him and Ken.
The second Ken looks to him, he knows what he has to do, and Chikusa heaves out a breath and an answer. "If you want, I guess..." It's for the better anyway. If Mukuro is with them, then that means they won't have to worry about him poking at things they don't want him to, or somehow finding his way into their space in the attic. "Just be careful.... There are a lot of things in Rudshore that aren't sturdy anymore."
Mukuro look amused by the warning, but he nods anyway as he walks over to settle on Ken's other side- not like the blond would let him get any closer as evidenced by the way he bristles in deterrence. "Don't worry, I know how to make my way around dangerous places."
It's not all talk, either. As they make their way through Rudshore, through crumbling territory that is becoming more and more familiar with each passing day for the two of them, Mukuro keeps pace just fine. He has Ken's reflexes, leaping easily across gaps between buildings tucked close, and he has Chikusa's eyes, pointing out the growing colonies of River Krusts and unsteady floors. Really, by the time they're poking about the Refinery just to see if anything was left behind in the rush, Chikusa is left wondering just what the other boy is doing with a pair like them. However, even as he thinks it, it's Ken who voices it, throwing rocks around the corner at a solitary River Krust.
"Where'd you come from, anyway?" He ducks as acidic spit goes through the air, splashing into the ankle-high water that surrounds them. Chikusa eyes it suspiciously, using a plank he'd picked up nearby to poke the thick glob away from them. "Was she that much of a bitch?"
"Ken," Chikusa sighs, disapproving, but Mukuro doesn't seem to mind much at all as he flips some of his hair back and tightens his grip around his knife.
"One letter off," he laughs, peeking carefully around the corner himself, pale fingers fluttering over Ken's shoulder, barely touching him. "My mother was a witch."
Ken jerks upright, eyes wide in wonder, and Chikusa presses closer without thinking, amazed and scared both in his silence. "Really!?" his best friend exclaims, no terror of any kind in his voice, because of course there wouldn't be. There are a million things in the world to be frightened of, and Ken isn't scared of even a teaspoon of them. "Do you know magic!? Can you curse people, is that what you did to those guys that were chasing us!?"
Like with anyone meeting Ken for the first time, the sheer amount of his exuberance seems to blow Mukuro back, eyebrows raised as he leans away in reaction to the blond's gleefully interrogative lean forward. It only takes him a second for him to adjust, however, holding himself tall and preening. "I might," he purrs, twirling the knife between his fingers now, metal gleaming as it catches the light. "That's really why she was so insistent I leave, if I'm honest. It'd be embarrassing, after all, if a witch's son usurped her."
"Could you have?" Ken asks, eager, fingers twining around Chikusa's in response to the other's crowding. His voice is a hushed whisper. "Could you really have beaten a witch?"
The question sparks a fire in Mukuro's mismatched eyes and, before either of them can stop him, he's whirling around the corner. Yelling- Ken in excitement, Chikusa alarm- the two of them trip through the water to watch as Mukuro dodges the Krust's vile spit like an owl gliding flawlessly through the dark knight, twisting around it in a heartbeat on light feet. The River Krust's shell is still open, not quick enough to shut, when Mukuro drives his knife straight into its vulnerable insides and gives an almost malicious twist. A noise, a gurgle, and Chikusa stares with wide eyes as it goes slack.
Not finished just yet, Mukuro fearlessly thrusts his hand inside and, with a grunt, tugs out a pearl that cradles easily in the palm of his hand and shines just as brightly as his knife did in the sunlight. "I," he announces, rosy cheeked and bright eyed, "can beat anything."
Whooping, Ken races over to Mukuro, and Chikusa nearly slips in his haste to follow after. "That was awesome!! I want to do that!"
"Ken, you aren't allowed to do that!" Still shaky from secondhand adrenaline, Chikusa comes to a stop in front of the dead Krust and, thus, Mukuro himself. This close, it's easy to see not only the way the other boy's face is flushed from exertion, but how that bright red stands out all the harder against skin that's become horribly pale. Even as Mukuro shifts his hands behind his back, shifting his balance to one leg and looking coy, Chikusa thinks he can spot a slight shake to them. He doesn't say anything, however, watching as Ken remains oblivious and enamored.
"Show me how to take out River Krusts like that!"
"Ken..."
"Well," Mukuro hums, tilting his head back and glancing down at them from the meager bit of height he has over them from his perch of rubbish, "I can do it because I was raised by witches. But maybe I could find the time to teach you how to do things like that..." Ken whoops, spinning in the water and sending it flying everywhere. While Chikusa blocks it wearily with one hand, Mukuro hops down and passes him by. "But for now..." And he slips the pearl into his hand, winking to the bespectacled boy without missing a step. "I can definitely tell you about all sorts of other things I learned about before my mother couldn't stand me to stay near her."
"Tell me all of them!" Ken demands eagerly twisting after him. With Chikusa still blinking in confused shock, Ken takes advantage of the fact and tugs him along gleefully. "C'mon, Kakipii!"
In a twist that's not surprising at all, indulging Ken's ravenous curiosity and excitement takes up the entire day, but Mukuro welcomes his constant focus even as the three of them dig through Rudshore's ruins some more. Even more than that- he basks in the attention, balancing on exposed beams and hopping across gaping holes in wooden floors. For all that the day is supposed to be more relaxed, Chikusa ends up having to do more damage control than anything in restraining Ken's eagerness to mimic their new bit of company. Everything passes by in a blur and, by the time they return home, he's honestly and genuinely befuddled that they managed to find enough things for the three of them at all. When they finally return, Chikusa sinks down onto the floor of his room and stares dully at the cooling sky outside his window. In the room not far off, he thinks he can hear Ken scurrying to fetch one of the lamps that they've hoarded in the past months. At least there's one good thing: being in Rudshore means there's always whale oil to go after. No one has even tried to come and forage the remains, at least not that he's ever seen or heard about. He supposes it would all be too much wasted effort for not a lot of gain for anyone who isn't living like him and Ken.
From the corner of his eye, he sees a bit of movement, and watches as Mukuro comes further into the room. Loathe as he is to do anything else today besides eat and go to sleep, Chikusa forces his body into sitting upright a little more so that he can watch the other boy further. They'd all agreed to eat supper together, sure, but.... he still can't help his caution. He doesn't want to, either, not when he has to keep an eye on Ken and make sure his best friend stays alright.
Mukuro is a lot more subdued away from Ken's exuberance, eyes reflecting strangely in the fading light as he settles down on the floor not too far away from him, and his smile is back to be a little more relaxed and knowing. "Did he wear you out that easily?" he asks, sounding faintly amused.
Brows drawing together, Chikusa thins his lips. "You were both really exhausting, yeah," he says, not inclined to let him slither away from the responsibility. To his credit, at least Mukuro gives a shrug that's almost apologetic.
"I thought the pearl would make up for it all," he says glibly. "Don't you like it?"
"A pearl isn't going to do anything for me..."
That's not really true, and they both know it. However, Mukuro says nothing to argue against the statement, only glances over him again and hums. "I can see how the two of you have been living here if you're so practical," he says, still smiling. "You must be prepared for all sorts of things."
Faintly, Chikusa thinks of not only various sorted piles up in the attic but of blood on his hands and his fingers slick around a knife. "I guess," he answers quietly. It doesn't seem to be an answer that Mukuro can really work with, and the rest of their time is spent in silence with both of them simply watching each other carefully until Ken returns with a lamp in one hand and a can opener in the other. A meager dinner is split between the three of them, Mukuro amuses Ken with more stories of witches and wildness, and, eventually, they all go to sleep again much like they had the night before.
And life goes on.
Mukuro makes life a little bit easier, in the passing days, just by virtue of having another set of eyes and hands available. He seems fine with just getting used to life in Rudshore, and shows no intention of moving on to find a place of his own although there are certainly plenty of places that he could find, surely. Sometimes he disappears, going off to who knows where, and Chikusa thinks that will be the last of him- but no. Inevitably, before the sun disappears, he's back again. Chikusa keeps an eye on him just in case, for whenever he distracts Ken with stories, and is resigned to this intrusion in their life.
So is how their life is, until the day a hagfish thrashes out of Ken's grip and its gaping jaws dig through his cheek and goes jittering over the bridge of his nose.
Jerking back with a sharp swear, Ken drops the thing, but Chikusa doesn't even see how the fish flops viciously against the floorboards. Everything in him is focused on the blood streaming down Ken's face, and he shouts in alarm, at his best friend's side in a heartbeat. "Ken!"
"Outsider's stupid crusty asshole-!"
Any other day, Chikusa would berate him for the language. He can't spare a single thought for it right now, instead grabbing Ken's hand and jerking him away from the hagfish still flopping on the ground and onto his old bed. Mukuro is already taking care of it regardless, knife going straight into the creature with practiced timing, although Chikusa is only aware of his actions in the faintest of ways. Right now, he's focusing on pressing the sheets up against the wound on Ken's face. It spreads so quickly, a growing stain of crimson that stands out against fading white, and he can barely hear his own panicked breathing over Ken's whimpering.
"Ken-" He swallows down air, forces his mind to think. He's read about this. He's seen diagrams and listened to maids gossip about injuries drunkard husbands had gotten while at the bars. This can be fixed. Chikusa reminds himself of that. This can be fixed. "Ken, just press down with the sheet, okay? Keep this here, even if it stings. Got it?" All he needs is Ken's reluctant nod before he leaps off of the bed, rushing to their room. Mukuro is still awake, still around, but Chikusa doesn't care as he tugs down the ladder to the attic. Beneath all the things they've accumulated throughout the months, it's a chore he has no patience for to find some of their medical supplies, but he does, breathless all the while.
Ken is right where he left him, and the fish has been left to bleed out while pinned to the carpet in favor of Mukuro joining him on the bed. He peers with interest at the soaked-through sheet the blond is still obediently holding up, although he doesn't mess with it himself. Taking in a deep shuddering breath and feeling a thousand miles away, buzzing in his ears, Chikusa settles down on Ken's other side. Biting his lip, he gently pushes Ken's hand away. The wound is no longer gushing out blood, although it's still dripping slowly down onto his shirt. Another deep breath. He can't feel his fingers again, even as he's watching them gently begin the process of rinsing the wound with a small flask of water. "It'll be okay, Ken," he hears, past all the buzzing and his own beating heart.
"Hurts," he grumbles, but it's all he says, falling utterly quiet and his eyes focused straight on him. Chikusa ignores it, patting the wet space dry with what of the sheet isn't soaked through with red, and then carefully applies some salve. Distantly, he's reminded of sweeter times, leaning over in his father's office and applying a salve to a much tinier inconsequential wound on Ken's face.
If only things were so simple and small like then.
By the time he finishes, he's wrapped bandages clumsily but securely around Ken's head to cover the wound, and he squirms in clear discomfort just from their presence. "Don't pick at them," Chikusa warns him firmly, swatting at his hands. "You can't mess with that at all, okay, Ken? Now stay here."
Immediately, Ken jerks up, eyes sharp. "What, why, where are you going?" All that seems to soothe him is Chikusa's hand settling over his.
"One of us has to cook dinner, Ken... You need to recover, okay? You have to get better."
While he scrunches up his mouth, Ken doesn't disagree. Instead, he flips his hand up, slotting his fingers neatly inbetween Chikusa's. "Okay, but come back, got it, Kakipii?" Bright brown eyes meet his head on. "Come back." It's an order, a plea woven quietly around each syllable, and Chikusa can't say he's oblivious to what Ken means. For all that he squeezes Ken's hand back, for all that he gets up to his feet instead of sitting on the bed, he can't really feel any of it. The world is distant and, if not for a single person in it, inconsequential.
That includes Mukuro, a ghost who trails after Chikusa to the fireplace in the room next over to his parents', although his helpfulness and preparing the fish for cooking is definitely useful. It doesn't really matter until Chikusa feels like he's come a little more into himself, like the fire is reigniting his ability to feel, and suddenly he's exhausted. This always happens when he "leaves", his body and all his emotions quietly sinking him down to the bottom from the weight of it all. It's not an experience he likes, but it's one he's resigned himself to.
As he's fighting weariness, eyes focused dully on the roasting fish, Mukuro finally speaks up. "That was really clever of you." Blinking into awareness, Chikusa glances over to him. Those mismatched eyes are focused on him almost as intensely as Ken's had been only moments before. "Knowing how to take care of him like that, I mean. Has he gotten into a lot of scrapes like that before?"
Shaking his head, Chikusa murmurs, "No.... Not really... We're usually careful enough..."
"Then how did you know what to do?"
Mukuro is leaning a little more forward, now, and there's something about the intensity in his gaze that makes Chikusa shy. It's silly, honestly, because he's been with Ken for years now, and Ken burns as bright as the summer sun. But... that seems different than Mukuro's brand of intensity. Ducking his head, he shrugs. "I've read things. My father had books in the library, so... I read."
"Aren't those kind of books really hard?"
A minute nod. "I had to look things up a lot." Carefully, he glances up again, and is almost startled by how close Mukuro is to him... and how the other boy is nodding in blatant approval.
"You must be really smart, then. Ken is lucky that you're with him all the time."
Heat blossoms across Chikusa's face, hotter than the flames licking at the fish, and he focuses hard on them like that will make up for what Mukuro is saying to him. "It doesn't matter how smart I am if we don't have a lot of things to wrap around his face," he says, not sure how to handle the compliment and thus ignoring it. "We don't find things like that a lot... Not in Rudshore, at least, not anymore."
"Oh? Does that means you're going to go back into the city, then?"
Chikusa falls silent. That's.... what he should do. That's what he needs to do, in fact. If Rudshore is devoid of the kind of supplies they need, then the only logical choice is to go into the rest of Dunwall. Yet when he thinks about it... the towering buildings, the throngs of people sweeping him away like the tide....
That, he knows he could stomach, if only for Ken's sake and not a single other living soul in the world. But then he thinks of the sneering pawnshop owner, and the bitter twist of alcohol hanging around the City Watch, and Chikusa feels sick to his stomach. Those kinds of things, he can't face them on his own. He simply can't. Merely thinking about it makes him want to pull back again, to 'leave' despite his assurance to Ken. Honestly, he's not sure how it doesn't happen. Finally remembering Mukuro is there, that he has to answer him, Chikusa nods slowly. "I'll have to sell things to get enough supplies." His teeth catch on his lower lip. "But.... it's hard." Even with Ken at his side, all protective violence, they weren't able to get nearly as much as he had hoped from selling his mother's ring.
An amused noise from Mukuro finally draws Chikusa's gaze back to him, and he flips his hair back casually. "Because of how stingy the shopkeeps are?" he asks, and seems smug when a nod is the answer. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. I know all sorts of tricks which will make them give you more money for things."
"...Really?"
"Mhm." Reaching for the long forks which keep the fish in the fire, Mukuro carefully starts to remove it. "It's not hard, once you know how to talk to people. A lot of them are the same." And, casually, "I learned that from witches too."
Chikusa doesn't pay it any mind. He just leans forward to help with the fish, casting uncertain but tentatively hopeful glances at him. "And they really work? The tricks that will make them pay more for things?"
"Of course."
"Then..." This is new territory, something he's never had to do before, but it needs to be done. So, Chikusa takes a quiet breath as they start to cut the fish up. "Will you come with me into Dunwall tomorrow, then?"
From the corner of his eye, he can see Mukuro's lips curl in a satisfied smile. "Of course."
"Let me go with you!" Ken says when Chikusa tells him of the plan the next morning, predictable as the sun. "I want to go into the city!"
"No." Chikusa squares his shoulders and sets his jaw, going stern like he remembers his father doing. "You're still hurt, Ken. Anyway, you'd just draw attention to yourself, because everybody would look at you with bloody bandages on your face." And they are bloody, spots of red showing through the white and only growing with every passing hour. Anxiety strangles Chikusa's lungs whenever he notices. "We'll be back, we won't leave.... So just... stay, okay? We'll come back."
Tension and dissatisfaction are writ all over Ken's face, eyes dark and mouth twisted, and Chikusa thinks for a second that he'll have to argue with his best friend even more. After a moment, however, he reaches over to tightly grip his fingers. "Promise."
"I promise. We'll come back. We're just going to get more bandages and things like that."
With that, Ken reluctantly lets go of his hand. "You better."
"I will." Promise made, he turns back to the doorway where Mukuro is patiently waiting, and, together, they set out for Dunwall.
Just like in Rudshore, Mukuro is clever and quick as he looks out for any of the City Watch, and he slips into the crowds on the street like a hagfish through water. Chikusa doesn't dare hold his hand; this isn't Ken. Instead, he has to fight and struggle to stay right behind him so that they don't become separated. Although it's not as bad as the time when him and Ken had gone out together, it's still overwhelming, and all Chikusa can do to combat it without his anchor nearby is to focus directly on Mukuro's back.
The unfortunate drawback of this is that he doesn't pay a single bit of attention to where they're actually going, and his mouth goes dry when he realizes this, eyes landing on unfamiliar shop names and streets. Mukuro has stopped just a little ways from him, glancing up at one shop in particular, and hums when Chikusa steps close. "You could always hold my hand if you'd like," he drawls, but it sounds almost mocking, in a way, and Chikusa shakes his head.
He'll be fine. He'll be strong. For Ken, he has to be.
"Have you been here before?" he asks, investigating the shop through the window. It's a little cleaner than the first one he went to, he has to admit. A good sign? Clean people care, at least, if only about their appearances.
"Not at all," Mukuro answers glibly, stepping besides him. "But I'd heard about it before I went to the flooded district, and it doesn't sound that bad. Anyway, did you bring what you wanted to sell?"
Nodding, Chikusa lays his hands onto the bag he has slung over his shoulder. "A pearl, a necklace, and a ring," he tells him quietly. It's his worse case scenario: if they still can't get a lot no matter what tricks Mukuro knows, then he'll gladly sell more just to make enough to buy what they need.
Mukuro falls quiet himself, thinking with what looks like considerable care to Chikusa's eyes. "Then what we'll want to do.... is that we'll find someone to regularly sell things like the pearl to. That's easy to get away with, after all, because boys like us usually are used to get pearls from River Krusts, right?"
Chikusa shrugs rigidly, not sure of what to say. This sounds like something Ken would know, but not him. He never questioned where the pearls of his mother's necklaces came from, only that she had them. Even his curiosity didn't venture everywhere, let alone something like that.
Fortunately, it doesn't look like Mukuro is really interested in an actual response, because he keeps on talking. "For things like jewelry, it'll be a little harder." His eyes flick to Chikusa, a smile playing on his lips. "And it gets attention like those thugs, I bet." As Chikusa thins his lips, unable to deny that, Mukuro continues, "we'll have to go around the city every time we want to sell something, at least until it's been long enough that you'll have probably been forgotten by some." Idly, he waves his hand through the air. "But we can worry about that in the future. For now, we'll just have to go to another shop after we sell something here."
"....So the pearl or the jewelry first...?"
Narrowing his eyes, Mukuro taps his chin before nodding. "Pearl. It should be simple enough." Having decided, he starts to ooze confident satisfaction again, and there's that grin once more directed at Chikusa. "So you want to learn tricks to get the most money for your things, right?" A nod as an answer, and he grins wider. "Start high. Don't let them decide the starting price. Make them bring you down to something you still want and that's more acceptable for them. It makes them think they've done well."
Blinking, Chikusa goes over the idea. That... makes sense, now that he thinks about it, although he's not sure how confident he is about doing it himself. "Won't they see through what we're trying to do?"
Another careless handwave. "When it's children, or women, they won't think they're clever enough for that," he explains. "Anyway, you should go first."
His heart freezes in his chest. "What?"
"You should go for a hundred coin to start with," Mukuro continues, about to say something else before he trails off to inspect Chikusa carefully. "It's not that hard," he adds.
Chikusa sort of wants to snap at him, to tell him that of course Mukuro wouldn't find it difficult- not when he's so confident and dangerous and knows what he's doing. All he does instead is thin his lips. "Then why don't you do it?"
"It's more believable if it's someone like you. You look proper and like you won't do anything." Well. He guesses he can't argue with that, not with his upbringing and how adults had praised him for being a quiet and polite child. Still, he must seem uncertain, because Mukuro says, "I'll be right there with you, of course. Nothing will go wrong then."
That's not really the reassurance he wants, not the person he wants, but Chikusa will take what he can get. After glancing at him to make sure that Mukuro won't just ditch him, he ducks inside the pawnshop. It's a lot cleaner than the first one him and Ken went to, the floor clearly having been swept not that long ago and shelves organized neatly. There's a man behind the counter, broad shouldered and missing what looks like a chunk of his cheek. At least, that's what it looks like to Chikusa, although he'll admit that there's a beard in the way so he can't be sure. While physically he seems more intimidating, he doesn't have the same aggression as the other pawnshop owner when he looks up to the see the two boys. Instead, there's just a raise of his eyebrow. "You boys lost?"
Chikusa shakes his head and glances to Mukuro, but he's not really paying attention to the conversation or the clerk. He's simply curiously browsing the things on the nearest shelves. Glancing back, swallowing thickly, Chikusa forces himself a few steps forward. "No, but.... We'd like to sell something."
Putting down the pocket watch he'd apparently been going over before the two of them stepped inside, the man rests his arms on the counter and gestures them closer with a few twitches of his finger. "Not filched, is it?" Chikusa shakes his head from side to side, hard, hair flopping all over. "Alright, alright, calm down. Whatcha got, then?"
Reaching into his bag, his fingers find the smooth curve of the pearl and he pulls it out, clutched in his palm until he can show it with his fingers slowly unfurling. "It's a pearl.... We got it from a River Krust." A lot more interest sparks in the clerk's eyes and he leans a little more forward to get a better look at it. Chikusa keeps his hand up, although warily- it feels like it would be too easy for an adult to just snatch the pearl out of his hand. For a second, he almost forgets to speak, but then he remembers Mukuro's advice and hastily says, "Could we get 100 coin for it?"
The man snorts, although it's not with any particular malice. Just incredulity. "You aren't giving me solid gold, kid. I know Krust pearls are tough ta get out of 'em, but just one's not worth that much. Especially one like that." Tapping his fingers against the wood, he considers for a moment before giving a different offer. "25 coin. Not bad, innit? Could get ya somethin' nice for your mum with that." When Chikusa balks, he sighs. "30, even, maybe, after I've had a look at it to make sure you're not pulling at my leg."
Chikusa glances back at Mukuro, trying to see what he thinks if anything, and he's finally looking back to the proceedings at hand. However, there's nothing in his expression that's really helpful, and Chikusa looks up at the clerk once more. "Are you sure we couldn't get more?" he asks, feeling a little faint as if the air is too hot to breathe. "It's not small.... So it could go for a pretty high price, right?" Words are lodging in his throat, threatening to choke him, and Chikusa isn't entirely sure how he gets them out. "What if it was 70?"
"They don't go that high, kid," the clerk says, although Chikusa wonders how true that is. "Maybe 40, and that's me being generous."
"50!" Mukuro finally speaks up from besides Chikusa, arms crossed and his eyes eternally bright. "That's already half what he wanted, so it wouldn't be fair to go any lower. C'mon, Mister!"
Heaving out a sigh, the clerk holds out one thick calloused hand. "We'll see once I take a look at this pearl," he says grudgingly. "Check if it's really fifty coin like you two seem to think." Worried but desperate, Chikusa quietly drops the coin in his palm and fairly clings to the counter as the man starts to inspect it. This means using a lot of different little tools, although the main one seems to be looking at it with something that seems to function like a tiny little scope of some sort. It must only take a few minutes, logically, but time drags on in Chikusa's mind. The weight of it all only leaves him when the man finally pulls the scope away and looks reluctantly impressed as he gives his verdict. "Well, it looks like you boys got lucky.... In more ways than one, since it looks like you both still got your eyes." The pearl clicks gently as he places it down onto the counter. "Fine- 50 coin."
All the worry and adrenaline in him is rushed out with the breath he releases, and leaves in its wake a shakiness in him, one that threatens to unmoor him from his own skull, but he still manages out a quiet, "Thank you."
"Mm." As he starts to count out the coins on the counter, he asks, "You two plan on getting any more pearls out of them River Krusts?"
Chikusa isn't sure if he can answer, or if he could supply something that affirms one answer or the other. Thankfully, it looks like Mukuro has gotten tired of being quiet. "We might," he says glibly, like he didn't shake after taking care of the River Krust responsible for their current gain. "Why?"
"Well, if you ever get some more pearls without getting their spit all over you, maybe come back again." He slides the coins across the counter, where Chikusa dutifully and silently begins to put them into his bag. "I know a few people who wouldn't mind seeing some more of these."
"Well, I guess we'll let you know then," Mukuro says, obviously pleased, but Chikusa is already shuffling back out to the door, and Mukuro's footsteps soon join him not too far behind. Once they're out in the fresh air again and down the street a little, he laughs triumphantly. "See? I told you it was easy." He glances to him, only to pause as he looks at Chikusa.
At least, Chikusa thinks he's looking at him. That might not be real. Nothing feels real. It's like he's dreaming, or underwater, weightless and strange and he can't feel anything again. Not even the strap of his bag, although he knows that his fingers are wrapped around it and that it's digging into his shoulder. A kind of buzzing is going on in the very deepest parts of his ears, and.... Is Mukuro talking? He's saying something, but the buzzing is louder now, drowning it out, and it seems so much more distant....
Chikusa nods, even though he can't hear the words he's agreeing to. He doesn't want to seem weak, even though he is, here on his own without Ken there to steady him. As he tries to remember to just keep moving forward, Mukuro moves more into view, and reaches down to take his hand. Chikusa lets him pull him along and doesn't even try to ask where they're going; what would the use be? He simply retreats into his own head as Mukuro pulls his body along, simultaneously aware of everything while also not seeing any of it. At some point, they sit down. At some point, he closes his eyes.
It's not sleep, and yet, when he opens them again, the sun is so much further along in the sky than he remembers it to have been. His messenger bag is still around his shoulders, the weight of it nestled on his lap with his fingers curled over it, and, most surprising of all, Mukuro is besides him. They're on the steps that lead to a small little side street off of the main one, with the hum of the crowd bustling behind them (and when did that replace the buzzing in his ears?) Elbows digging into his knees, Mukuro has his hands pressed together and fingers tapping at his lips. It takes him a few seconds before he happens to glance at Chikusa and stirs. "Oh? Are you feeling better now?"
He's feeling a little exhausted, actually, as if someone took his brain from his skull and tossed it around a little before letting it ooze back into its proper place. Instead of saying that, Chikusa nods again, but this time he manages to get some words out as well. "How long has it been?"
"Mmm.... A few hours I suppose," Mukuro muses, and only seems faintly amused when Chikusa gives a jolt. "There's no need to worry, you know."
"But Ken! We need to get everything for him!"
"I don't think you were in the right place to be getting anything for anyone, honestly." As Chikusa flinches, Mukuro continues to talk. "But we still have the whole day, and those bandages should hold just fine." That's a fairly optimistic view, considering this is Ken, but he says nothing and allows the other boy keep going. "Anyway, I'll take charge for the next shop. I think you could use the break." There's no argument there, only tired obedience as he follows after Mukuro again when he leads the way through the crowd.
It's easy to do, too. Mukuro doesn't have Ken's complete and utter ease in slipping through the crowds, but he makes up for it in somehow drawing the eye to him, and Chikusa can just follow after the signature spiky ponytail he has with minimal trouble now. As before, he doesn't really pay much mind to where they're going with the world still seeming a little off, but, in no time at all, they're in front of another shop and he's passively handing over his mother's jewelry to Mukuro. Words are said, numbers exchanged, but all he does is stand there.
He's still so tired.
The only thing that stirs him is the cold feel of coin in his hands, and he forges onwards to the general store. Distantly, he's aware that people take to him well, quiet and automatically polite when spoken to, but all he's truly focused on is getting bandages and herbs, along with some other things that he recalls they don't have but really do need. It depletes most of the money they earned, but wasn't that the point, anyway? When he's finally done, bag heavy around his shoulders, Mukuro guides them back again. It's only then that he realizes how long the shadows have gotten, the sky awash with deep maroon and aching orange.
Jerking, he lurches forward to grab Mukuro's hand. "Come on! We have to get back!" Without waiting for a response, he starts to hurry forward and drags him along.
Mukuro's laugh is incredulous. "And now you're getting worked up! You really don't-"
"Come on!"
If there are any City Watch around, they're not lurking by the pub near the street that leads back to Rudshore, and that's the only important thing to Chikusa. By the time they're going down the familiar street, everything is practically pitch, and if it wasn't so simple and he wasn't so familiar with it... He's sure they would be lost.
Except it's not completely pitch, not for long, and Chikusa slows as he sees a light glowing bright in the distance, suddenly wary. Behind him, he hears the faint noise that is Mukuro sliding his knife out of hiding. Maybe it's some homeless person trying to find refuge in what's clearly an abandoned district. Maybe it's looters, late to the party but desperate to dig through and find anything at all, even a coin. Maybe it's nothing at all. There's no need to panic, not yet. Maybe it's nothing. Holding his breath and fingers wrapped as tight as he can manage around his shoulder strap, Chikusa forces himself to step closer and closer until he can see past the glow.
It's not nothing.
It's Ken.
For all that he's the one sitting near the lamp there on the steps, he must have been there for ages glaring into the darkness, because the blond reacts first by leaping up to his feet with a shout. "Kakipii!" He bolts forward, and Chikusa barely has any time to prepare himself before Ken is barreling into him. "You came back!" There's something twisted in his throat, makes it broken like all the wood and stone that makes up Rudshore now, and that finally has Chikusa reaching up to dig his fingers into Ken's arms.
"Ken! You're supposed to be back home- why aren't you in bed!?" As Ken pulls away a little, Chikusa sucks in a sharp breath. The makeshift bandages are still in place, but they're soaked through now, and there's spots where it's clear that at some point Ken had to retie them. He can't tell if it's because he was always bleeding that bad, or that they've gotten worse because Ken was running around all the way from home to here. "Your face-"
"You didn't come back!" The ragged desperation in Ken's voice knocks him silent, and his voice might as well be locked away forever when those wide eyes pierce into him. He's never seen Ken this upset. Not even when he had hagfish teeth in his face, which had to hurt more than anything. "It just- it kept getting later, and later, and you didn't come back!"
He didn't come back. Chikusa's throat closes in on itself, like he's being choked. Just like his parents didn't come back, like no one else came back, for either of them.
His fingers dig into Ken's shirt, as if he can tell him with that sole gesture that he'll never leave him alone, not like the rest of the world has. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, aching with the words. "Just- let me fix your face, okay?" Gently, he guides Ken back down to the steps, and begin the long process of peeling bandages from his skin.
As he does so, Mukuro settles down besides Ken, and flicks his ear. "I told you I would bring him back, didn't I?" he says, something which is news to Chikusa, but which Ken doesn't dispute. "We just had to go to a few places, and it took some time." There's no mention of what Chikusa went through, or how he simply 'left', and he's not sure if he's grateful or not.
"How come you had to go to different places?" Ken asks, ignoring when Chikusa tsks at him for moving much when he's trying to clean his face with a flask of fountain water.
"Stop that.... And we couldn't sell everything on one place, so we sold the pearl to one person and the jewelry to another person. And then we had to go find a store for bandages and things. Seriously, Ken, stop moving...."
It doesn't take long before Ken's face is re-bandaged by lamplight, and Chikusa dares to trust Mukuro with keeping him safe and steady while he leads the way back home. It's not something they've done often, traveling through Rudshore in the dark, so he's extra careful as he lights the way, until, finally, they're stepping carefully into familiar wet floor, and going up the stairs to what's become home. By that point, Ken is already uncharacteristically tired again, eyes drooping, and Chikusa herds him to his parents' room where they can stoke the fireplace, and the chill from the broken windows have long since been blocked up with whatever could work. It'll be good for him, he thinks. Especially when he's so weak and tired that Chikusa wouldn't dare have him climb the ladder up to their attic space and risk him falling.
Any other night, and he'd leave it at that, more secure with the knowledge that Mukuro was in another room. This night, however, as the other boy starts to leave, Chikusa hesitates for only a moment before calling out. "Mukuro?" Pausing, he looks back at him. "Do... you want to stay in here tonight with the fire?"
A flicker of a smile. "It'd be warmer," he admits, and soon enough the three of them are nested in a blanket pile. Ken is already asleep, mouth half open and drool trickling out, but the bandages are still clean and white. As he nestles besides him, Chikusa looks over at Mukuro.
"Thank you," he whispers quietly before he squeezes his eyes shut, not sure if he wants to see the reaction.
After that, it's so much easier to be around Mukuro. Ken even eases up a little when he knows that the other boy is at Chikusa's side when they go out into Rudshore, foraging for food or supplies or things to sell. Chikusa has to admit it makes him feel a little better, too. Mukuro has so many ideas and suggestions to offer; all Chikusa has to do is let himself listen to them. Let himself accept them. When he does, it's amazing how much more energy he suddenly finds himself having. All this time, he'd been frittering it away on worrying about Ken, and anxiety on their supplies, and... He's known, for months, that life is so much harder when it's just him and Ken on their own without parents or servants or family to watch over them. It's just that he'd never realized that so much of that exhaustion was from having to think. But with Mukuro with them, he doesn't have to shoulder that burden alone.
It's.... nice. And Mukuro is nice, giving him sweet words about how careful and intelligent he is with Ken's wound, praising him for when he thinks of a way to save food or money. By all means, Mukuro is still troublesome in a lot of ways, and tiring, but he manages to keep Ken distracted- which is good, since Ken still needs to stay inside and recover and he'd be driven up the wall without something to keep his attention. Still, even with that, it's a relief when the skin has finally healed enough over the wounds and Ken no longer has to have bandages tied securely around his face. Once again, Chikusa and Ken join together with more than a little relief... but now there's Mukuro there, too.
The only difference is that it no longer feels like he's an outsider.
And, without him feeling like an outsider, it's unbelievable in Chikusa's eyes how much easier things become. Not only foraging throughout Rudshore and backalleys, but when they make it through Dunwall, too. It doesn't look so unusual when it's three boys their age all together, just another pack of kids wandering through the streets, and, after the first few times, Chikusa feels his breath become more natural. Mukuro lets Ken lead them, most of time, because Ken seems to know Dunwall in a way that's almost instinctual, like it's carved into his bones, but soon they fall in tandem with each other. Ken knows the way, Mukuro knows who to go after, and Chikusa knows what they deserve.
It's still not easy, especially with one more mouth to feed, but it's a little bit better.
With anxiety no longer weighing him down, Chikusa realizes that he doesn't mind Mukuro's stories as much, either, and he's glad to curl up with Ken in the blankets by the fire or glow of a lamp as the boy amazes them with witch tales. One night, however, as he finishes gesturing dramatically, he looks down at the two of them with a considering shine to his mismatched eyes.
"You know," he says slowly, "these stories don't have to just be stories. We could do all the things that witches do, if we wanted."
Ken bolts up, bright and intense as the fire before them. "What, how!?" he asks, already eager before he knows the details while Chikusa is a bit more cautious as he pushes himself to his knees. Smiling with the edge of some great secret, Mukuro crouches down and leans close, the action which draws Ken and Chikusa nearer as well without them having to even think twice about it. His voice is quiet but burning as he whispers to them.
"What do you know of the Outsider?"