Hajime sat in a small space under an overhang, watching the snow fall disinterestedly. He just barely heard Handlebars' thin voice calling from below him.

Casting a tired look at nothing in particular, he leaned down to the roof beneath him and called back in a low voice, "You wanted me gone. Now I'm gone. Go and lie down, Handle... You're going to have to rest if you ever want out of here." He knew that, from that angle, Handlebars would be able to hear him clearly.

Hajime leaned back, arms behind him, and let all his weight rest on his shoulders. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

Handlebars leaned his forehead against the door. "Haju," he called, louder this time. "Please come here. I'm not doing anything until I talk to you. Handlebars looked down tiredly. "...And don't you dare say something like 'We're talking right now.' I can't stand it when people do that,"  he added, wondering why he was rambling.

He stood up straight. "I'm sorry I yelled at you... I didn't mean to be so harsh, I just... Please, Haju... Please come here."

"Hmm."

Hajime slid back onto the spiraling staircase that created a path between his home and the church steeple. After making his way down to the door, Hajime let his hand brush the doorknob before remembering that he had intentionally locked himself out. After a small pause, Hajime sighed shortly and knocked on his own door.

Handlebars tilted his head to one side and stared at the door, puzzled. Then it hit him. Did he lock himself out? He shook his head, and reached out to unlock the door. He pulled it open and stared at Hajime.

"Please come in," Handlebars said softly. "It's too cold out there, even for you."

Hajime replied equally softly. "Isn't that the same cold you were all too willing to face...?" He stepped past Handlebars and inside. Gently reaching past his young friend and pushing the door shut, he nodded, the heated apartment quickly melting the snow in his hair into water.

Hajime pushed his wet hair away from his face and looked down at Handlebars.

"I-I guess... I wasn't thinking," Handlebars stammered. "I mean... I was, it's just that..." He stared down at Hajime's feet. "I guess I'm just scared. I-imagine finding out... that the one person you trust the most is the reason you're so... messed up." He looked up at Hajime with a pleading look in his eyes. "M-maybe it's just the fever," he continued. "Or maybe I'm just not used to... to being around people... But I really don't want to lose you, Hajim-- ....Haju."

Handlebars swallowed hard. "But... every time I look at you..." he trailed off and rubbed his ears.

((ANGST.))

A few blocks away from Hajime's house, a strange man was questioning the women at the soup kitchen.

"Are you sure you haven't seen anyone like him?"

"Listen, honey," Mrs. Matthews said in an agitated tone. "I haven't seen the boy you described. Now, unless you need a meal, please get out of the way."

"I see," the man said. "Thank you for your time." And with that, he left.

"I wonder who he was looking for," Mrs. Matthews murmered to herself, turning back to the kitchen's stove. "'A young man with long brown hair and green eyes'..."

((She's tired. Can't remember stuff that well. :c Yep. ...And in case you're wondering, Tasu got a deion of what Handle looks like from this creeper he met on the streets, and... Well, he'll explain it later.))

((ENTER: THE JANT.))

Hajime averted his eyes, unsure how to respond. For the first time, he realized that his position was very similar to Handlebars'. But to know that, after so short a time, he was the person Handlebars trusted the most...

He quietly cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with his closest friend. "You should change clothes... Those are probably full of whatever virus you have. You can use some of mine, if you want..."

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city, a dark-skinned teenage boy leaned against the side of a building, an unadorned machete held idly in his hand, and watched a stranger pa.ss through cold eyes. The night was too cold for fighting tonight, and Jant's father had locked him out again.

Handlebars continued to stare up at Hajime for a few seconds. "...Yeah... You're probably right," he said quietly, rubbing his left ear.

Someone's there. The stranger stopped in his tracks and turned his head to look at the boy leaning against the building. "Good evening, child," he said in a smooth, deep voice. "What are you doing out in the cold?" He blinked slowly and stared at the boy expectantly.

((Dude. Short post. -being climbed on by Scrappy- D8< This isn't making it easier.))

Hajime nodded slightly. "The washing machine is in there and to the left," he said, gesturing at the bathroom door. "Toss your clothes in there, have a warm bath if you want, and I'll get some spare clothes."

"...Oh," Hajime added, "Want me to hold on to your mp3 player?" He blinked benignly at Handlebars.

Jant's grip tightened around his heavy weapon, though he didn't seriously intend to use it. He did not like being called... child. "None of your business," he spat at the long-haired stranger. The man was clearly an outsider, and the only thing that stopped Jant from attempting to intimidate him was the fact that he was equally clearly not one to be trifled with.

"You're out in the cold yourself, you know," he observed in a slightly more civil, if still fairly icy tone. "I could ask you the same."

Handlebars shoved his hand into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out his mp3 player. He stared at it for a long time before looking up at Hajime with a nervous ex
pression plastered on his face. "Um..." he began, looking back down at his mp3 player. "Please..." He carefully handed his most prized possession to his best friend.

"I'll be out in a little bit," the teen said as he walked into the bathroom.

((Handle was hesitant to give his mp3 player Haji 'cause it's actually blank unless Handle has it. The songs don't play if anyone else is holding it. x3 His brother gave it to him one year. So it's old. :c Very old.))

"I am looking for someone," the stranger said, smiling calmly. He wasn't going to pry any further into this young boy's business when he obviously wasn't welcome company to the child. "Have you seen a young man with long brown hair and green eyes?"

((xD I want a magical brother. ...Oh. Wait. ~_~))

Hajime looked sideways at the device in his hand and slid it into his pocket with a shrug. Rubbing his still-wet head, he turned and went to his bedroom to look for clothes.

Jant studied the man coldly for a few seconds. There was something about him that Jant didn't like at all. But after a moment, he realized that he knew who the man was looking for. His eyes reflected slight surprise as he said, "My friend's seen someone like that. Says he's a skinny guy a few years older than I am, and around the same height. Takes these earphones around with him everywhere, and hardly ever takes 'em out."

Jant coughed slightly. He hoped he wasn't getting sick. "If you're looking for him, start at the old chapel." He gestured widely to his left and relaxed once more against the wall, the interest leaving his features. "From what I've heard, he's hanging around with that a.ssa.ssin. Red-Eyes Hajime Senbon." Jant gruffly rubbed his nose. No one was sure whether the man living in the church was really the famed killer, but a little embellishment never hurt anyone.

Hajime reemerged from his bedroom carrying a slightly-too-small pair of loose-fitting denim jeans and a long-sleeved gray shirt that he had found at the bottom of a drawer. He set the clothes down outside the bathroom door and on top of them tossed a pair of boxer shorts that he'd bought and not yet had the chance to wear. Fortunately, Hajime was not in the habit of throwing things out, so he had several articles of clothing that would easily fit Handlebars.

Handlebars ran his hand under the warm water pouring into the bath tub and sighed happily. Despite the fact that he was naked in someone else's house, he was quite comfortable. He glanced over at his dirty clothes on the floor and blinked. Did they always look so tattered? Handlebars carefully stepped into the bath tub and shut his eyes, sinking down into the water.

"This feels so good," he murmered quietly, wondering when he had last had a bath. Opening his eyes, Handlebars sat up and turned the water off, then leaned over the side of the tub and picked up the wash cloth he had found with Hajime's towels.

He leaned back and tilted his head to look up at the ceiling. After humming a few random notes to himself, he closed his eyes again and began to quietly sing. "Drink up baby, stay up all night... With the things you could do... You won't but you might..." I never realized it before... But Haju and I met at a bar... "The potential you'll be, that you'll never see... The promises you'll only make..." I guess... I do like this song...

The strange man's eyes widened for a brief moment at the mention of 'Red-Eyes Hajime Senbon'. He had heard of the a.ssa.ssin before, but he had never once imagined him living in a city full of people. "Thank you," he said softly, his heart beginning to pound. "Here..." He removed his jacket and pushed it into the boy's arms. "You need that more than I do, young sir."

Before the boy could say another word, the stranger vanished.

Hajime was kneeling on his bedroom floor, cleaning up his shattered radio, when he heard faint sounds of Handlebars' singing across the hall. It was that song... Hajime had always been fond of it, but he'd grown to like it much more since meeting the teen.

"Myuujikku..."

he breathed.

"...Music."

Jant looked distastefully at the jacket the man had left with him and tossed it onto the ground. He was preparing to spit on it when a low, long whistle broke the still night air. Jant looked up and peered down an alleyway in the opposite direction of the way the man had gone. A shadow moved in the darkness. Perfect. He'd found a place to sleep tonight.

Kicking some dust over the man's jacket, Jant followed the signal swiftly and silently, fading into the night so that the only sign he had been present was the stranger's jacket lying on the ground.

((</cameo> Sorry, The Jant. :c))

((Handle's bathing. We don't need to hear about that.))

The stranger stood in front of the door, silently debating what to do next. First, he thought about breaking in. He had followed in his father's footsteps as a strong warrior, and could wield a blade with ease. However, he hadn't thought to bring a sword into the city, as he didn't want to raise any more alarm than he needed to. The man quickly discarded the thought from his mind. If his little brother was in there with that monster, he wasn't going to put him in any harm.

His second option seemed much more reasonable. All he had to do was...

He knocked on the door three times, and waited for someone to answer.

((x3 Dunanana... Poor Haji.))

The sound of the bag of broken pieces of radio hitting the bottom of the wastebasket coincided with the first knock on Hajime's door. He froze. ...That had never happened before. Normally, if anyone wanted to talk to him, it was someone from his job--position would be a more accurate term--and he would be informed by Arachne, who would usually sneak in via a small opening in a window or door.

Leaving the kitchen and casting a look over his home, Hajime saw that it was terribly cluttered with books on all subjects, various dishes, jackets and scarves, pens and notepads full of scrawled writing, and the occasional bladed weapon that had made its way from his storage room out into daylight for polishing or study.

Hajime sighed and paused to shake most of the water from his hair. He absently picked up a small hunting knife. It was his habit to be armed in the presence of strangers, even though he hadn't so much as hit anyone for years. Hajime made his way to the door and opened it. The streetlights outside cast an orange light on his face, reflecting off of his jacket zipper, his crimson eyes, and the blade of his knife.

((x3 Sorry. Had to after the 'monster' thing.))

Stay calm. The stranger stared at the man in front of him and took a deep breath, quickly averting his gaze from the other's deep red eyes. Stay calm. He took a step back and bowed slightly. "Good evening, sir," he said softly, peering at the knife in the other man's hand. "My name is Tasukete," he continued, leaving his last name out.

Tasukete blinked and cleared his throat quietly before he opened his mouth to speak again. "I am looking for a young man named Myuujikku. Am I correct in thinking that you may know of his whereabouts?"

Hajime's grip instinctively tightened around his knife, and then relaxed just as quickly. Though he wouldn't have noticed before meeting Handlebars, he knew those features. Hajime nodded. "I know his whereabouts well." He opened his door a bit wider, spilling light onto the street.

Having caught Tasukete's gaze on his knife, he set it down on a nearby plant stand--the plant was long gone--in an act of good faith. This man...

"You must be the brother," commented Hajime.

This man had to be the brother Handlebars spoke of. Anyone else who would have known that name was likely dead or too far away to care... and Tasukete bore a very, very strong resemblance to his father.

Without waiting for a reply, Hajime opened his door all the way. "Please," he said, "Come in."

Tasukete smiled politely. "Thank you," he said, and cautiously walked through the doorway. He wasn't letting his guard down just yet. There was no telling what this man was thinking, and Tasukete had heard stories of what he was perfectly capable of doing.

"Yes, I am his brother. His older brother," Tasukete said finally. "I returned to my old home to find it in ruins. After asking around, I learned that my parents were a.ssa.ssinated years ago. I hadn't been able to keep in touch with my family, you see," he paused and looked at the man carefully. "Apparently, my younger brother's body had never been found. To make a long story short, I managed to trace his most likely location to... this house."

"So," Tasukete continued. "I am a.ssuming that you are Hajime 'Senbon'?"

Handlebars, a towel around his waist, picked up his dirty clothes and took them to the washing machine. He sneezed, stretched, and walked back to the bathroom door, pulling it open. He left clothes for me... he thought, smiling at the sight of the clothes on the floor. No one had ever done that for him before. Then again, he'd never been in a situation like this. Still, it made him feel happy to be cared about. He picked up the clothes and shut the bathroom door. After he was finished changing, Handlebars looked at himself in the mirror.

He barely recognized the boy staring back at him. His usually tangled hair was now charmingly messy, and his once dirt-covered face seemed much clearer and healthier looking. He couldn't help but smile more, blushing at his sudden vanity. These clothes of Haju's must be old or something. I know there's no way he wears the same sizes as me. ...I better go thank him.

The teenager once again opened the bathroom door and walked out to where Hajime and Tasukete were standing.

((-cue scary music-))

((Scary music? :D *cues* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jgrCKhxE1s))

"Ah," Hajime interjected haltingly, nerves making his accent more pronounced than usual. "Not quite. My last name is Sekai... I haven't used that name for years." He was once again cruelly reminded that he had killed this man's family.

"...Technically, though, I'd have to say that you're right. You're also in the right place. Your brother is..." Hajime turned and saw Handlebars standing before him, looking much healthier and generally happier than he had when he'd arrived. "...er, right here."

"I see..." Tasukete trailed off, following Hajime's gaze. His eyes went wide. "Myuujikku...?"

Handlebars stiffened. "...That's not my name. My name is Handlebars. ...Who are you?"

"It's me," Tasukete said, taking a step toward his brother. "Tasukete."

"Tasu... Tasukete?" Handlebars choked out, and looked at Hajime. 

"Do you remember now, Myuujikku?" Tasukete said, his eyes lighting up excitedly. "It's me, your older brother."

"S... stop saying that name... That's not my name."

"What are you talking about...?"

Handlebars looked around nervously, then stepped behind Hajime. "H-Haju, make him go away. I don't know who he is." He gently shoved the taller man forward.

Tasukete's face fell. "Myuujikku..."

The youngest of the three gripped the back of Hajime's shirt like a frightened child. "I said stop! Are you stupid or something?" He spat, annoyed.

Tasukete closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Hajime. He let out a sigh and calmly rubbed the side of his head. "This is my little brother. There is no doubt about that. He is already giving me a headache."

From his place behind Hajime, Handlebars trembled. "Y-yeah?! Well, you can just get out of here! B-because... Because... we don't like you!"

Handlebars was forgetting how to control his feelings again. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped out from behind Hajime, still keeping his grip on his friend's shirt.

"Perhaps... we should sit down and talk," Tasukete suggested, faintly wondering what Hajime was thinking.

"No!" Handlebars said quickly. "There's nothing to talk about. Get out of my house!" It's not even your house, you idiot!

Tasukete searched Handlebars' face for some hint of emotion other than fear. "Why are you afraid, brother?"

"I'm... I'm not. I'm just... I'm sick. Yeah. I need to lie down. This is all a dream. A crazy dream. What do they call those? Fever dreams?"

Tasukete raised his eyebrow.

((Big baby... I MEAN. That poor thing.))