Chapter Text
The Blackrock wind is as unforgiving as it is eternal, and Shuriken, in his minimal layers of cloth designed for agility and breathability, is not having a great time dealing with these winds face-to-face every time Katana decides he’s too good for texting.
Well, that’s not the full context. It just happens to be most of the context.
He's running a letter to Hyperlaser, a mercenary from Blackrock who is six feet tall, blue, and probably has Shuriken's legal information memorized just because he can. The letter is from Katana, his neighbor who is somehow taller, red, and could probably throw a car directly into Shuriken's skull if he felt like it. Together, they are somehow not a couple, and Shuriken is trying to help change that. So, essentially, he's playing matchmaker, and that's something he'll never turn down, because the only other exciting things in his life are work (yuck) or vigilantism. Despite this, he can't help but mutter and grumble with chattering teeth.
“Stupid neighbor with his stupid letters for his stupid boyfriend in this stupid weather at stupid 6 PM-”
That last one doesn't really make much sense. But he doesn't really care, because as it stands, Shuriken is shivering as he grapples from boring building to industrial building to boring industrial building. That's all Blackrock is: snow and boring industrial buildings.
(Hyperlaser doesn’t lie– the only culture this region has is work. That, and the color grey.)
In fact, Hyperlaser (or, well, Katana, technically) is the only reason he’s going to this snowy hell.
Katana, in his traditional ways, insisted that letters are the prime form of communication and absolutely refused to use a phone– that is, unless Hyperlaser messaged him first, in which case texting was just fine. But messaging Hyperlaser first? Noooo, he just had to send Shuriken off as a delivery boy in ten-degree weather.
“You are faster than sending an owl,” he had said.
“You carry mail easier than an owl,” he had said.
“Princess is less likely to kill you for sport,” Vine had said.
“Unfortunately.” Sling had added.
And Shuriken just had to go with it, because what was he going to say in response? No, I hope you and your boyfriend die and also figure out that you’re boyfriends with each other without my help and also shut up? That would be mean, and cruel, and would probably not hasten the seemingly impossible realization that the two were definitely more than friends.
But it would also probably get him out of this freezing snow.
No, Shuriken isn’t regretting getting closer with his neighbor.
That’s what he tells himself as he finally locates Hyperlaser’s apartment: number 313, just as grey and covered-in-snow as every other building. After one final grapple, his foot finds solace on the windowsill, and he pushes the window open with a light shove. Thankfully, after so many previous deliveries, Hyperlaser has opted to simply keep his window unlocked, and so without any grandeur, Shuriken can slip inside easily.
Unfortunately, inside the apartment isn’t actually that much warmer, but he’ll take what he can get.
The interior isn’t host to much; there’s a scuffed up couch, a television that hasn’t worked for as long as Shuriken can remember, and a cat tower surrounded by various well-loved cat toys. The kitchen doesn’t have anything to brag about either, counters completely empty in a way that seems to mirror the table, which also has nothing. The hallway down to the right leads to Hyperlaser’s bedroom, which Shuriken has only ever been mildly curious about but knows it will probably be like the rest of the apartment, and the door by the entrance leads to the bathroom. Wonderful. Stellar, even. Memorizing the layout of a standard Blackrock apartment is no match for him. He's still got it, baby.
He’s just going to leave Katana’s present on the table, though.
Today’s delivery consists of a small but cute glass ornament shaped like a black cat, along with a letter. He hasn’t been snooping too much, but he knows that all the letter contains is an invitation to “come over” again. Shuriken already knows how this will play out: Hyperlaser will spend the night at Katana’s place, doing whatever it is they do when it’s just the two of them, and then they’ll go their separate ways the next morning like they’re friends that occasionally see each other at the store and not unspoken lovers that have definitely kissed after regularly downing more alcohol than anyone would recommend. Then, after a few days, Katana will call Shuriken over for another delivery, and the cycle repeats.
(“You should totally add something to one of these deliveries to make Hyperlaser realize Katana’s in love!” Vine had suggested earlier, hand holding her face as leaned over the table. Her eyes had been running over the letter with intrigue. “Like, chocolates! Or a love letter!”
“Does Hyperlaser even eat chocolate? He never buys any off of our menu…” Sling had debated, brow furrowed in concentration. “And I don’t think a letter would work at all. Even if he doesn’t realize that’s not Katana’s handwriting, the stuff they write to each other is way more flowery than any love letter.”
“Oh, yeah, for sure.” Vine confirmed. She had then clasped her hands and fluttered her eyelashes as she mimicked one of the letters. “‘Oh, my dearest best friend.’” She had fake-swooned, and her brothers had giggled. “‘Are you free tonight? So that we may hold hands at the dinner table and watch the stars, which are actually your eyes, for hours. Also, I got you flowers.’” At this, she had procured a flower from thin air with merely a flick of her staff. By this point, both Shuriken and Sling had been laughing. Shuriken less so, because he had been about to venture into freezing weather.
He never ended up changing anything about the delivery. But the idea was fun while it lasted.)
Shuriken sighs and rolls his eyes. If him being the delivery boy ends up cementing the two as realized lovers, then he’ll keep doing it. But at the rate things are going, he might have better luck just telling Hyperlaser to his face that Katana is in love with him.
“...’re being dense.”
Oh. Speak of the devil, that’s Hyperlaser’s voice; Shuriken can hear it escaping from some room down the hall, probably his bedroom.
Huh. He didn’t realize the mercenary was home.
He’s about to call out, saying something like your package is here or your lover sends his regards or a simple delivery! when he catches onto some of the words Hyperlaser is saying.
“...No, you don’t understand-”
Silence. Then, a sigh and some shuffling.
Must be a phone call, Shuriken surmises. Or he’s talking to Princess.
“I’m choosing to refuse. You keep making me- no, hey, listen to me. I’m telling you I don’t care.”
Okay, now Shuriken is definitely snooping. In this situation, Slingshot would say something about privacy and personal space. But he’s curious, and Sling is just as nosy as him in other ways, and can’t really bring himself to stop, so…
“Subspace-”
It’s definitely a phone call, then. A heated one, too– Shuriken can kind of hear the tinny voice of someone on a phone, so Subspace must be yelling if the volume’s anything to go by. He wonders what Subspace is actually like outside of phights. They’ve never actually talked. Given what they sound like on the phone, and given Hyperlaser’s less-than-positive description, they're probably not nice at all.
“Yes, I’ve thought my choice through. I know what will happen.”
Some more yelling through the phone. Hyperlaser sighs again, but instead of raising his voice, it’s like something has settled inside him that’s made him nothing but calm. No, that’s not right. The next words that come out of his mouth are plain but absolute, like there’s no room for discussion, and he says it like there’s nothing else but these words inside him.
“You’ve got it wrong, Subspace. I will not work for you anymore. Goodbye.”
A beep sounds, ending the phone call, and after a moment of silence, Hyperlaser starts walking down the hall.
Wow.
Did Hyperlaser just… quit his job? The one he’s had since forever?
From what little knowledge Shuriken has of Blackrock– which was also gleaned through asking Hyperlaser– he knows that losing a job in Blackrock is maybe the worst region to have that happen. With the rapid implementation of Biografts over the last three years, there aren’t many places hiring that aren’t directly under Korblox themselves, so those who can’t pay the bills are left to freeze on the streets or somehow find a place to let them in. And, look, Hyperlaser might be good at killing people, but Shuriken wasn’t really sure how that skill translated into the “innovation” that Korblox was looking for. So then he must be moving in with someone else-
Wait. Hyperlaser is moving down the hall. Right now.
Shit- he needs to hide, he does not want Hyperlaser thinking that he’s eavesdropping, which- okay, yeah, he was but that doesn’t really matter right now– he just needs do the invisibility technique and to do that he needs to put his hands here and here and twist and- no, wait, that’s wrong, the hands go there, how is he messing this up this he’s done it regularly for the past six years-
With not a second to spare, his body sheds its visibility just as Hyperlaser exits the hallway.
His helmet isn’t on, so, alright, maybe invisibility wasn’t necessary– in fact, now that he’s looking, Shuriken can see the helmet's recognizable shape sitting on the couch. But it was better than taking his chances. And, for the sake of continuing the pattern he’s set (and not because he doesn’t want to be caught) he stills his breathing and makes absolutely no movements whatsoever. Nerves be damned, he’s not chancing being seen.
The mercenary is wearing a simple grey t-shirt with sweatpants. Shuriken doesn’t know how he does it, this place is freezing and to make matters worse the inphernal doesn’t even bother turning on the heating. He thinks he remembers Hyperlaser mentioning at one point that he does it to save money, but Shuriken thinks that's absurd. There's no way that cutting the heating is worth saving a few extra bux, because it is positively chilled in here, uncomfortably so. Hyperlaser feels his way down the apartment, scarred hand brushing the wall like he’s probably done thousands of times. From there, he ventures down to the couch and sighs, before lowering himself onto the cushions like he plans to sleep there. The helmet is clumsily, or perhaps carelessly, bumped to the ground.
It surely wouldn’t be more comfortable than his own bed, Shuriken knows that from the numerous nights his siblings have forced him to sleep on one. Couches like these are always deceptive, feeling soft in the moment yet leaving you with a sore back in the morning, without fail. But Hyperlaser doesn’t seem concerned with that, and rolls over until he faces the wall, hands strewn wherever he feels like.
Nice. He’s not paying attention. Now Shuriken can get the hell out of here.
The window he came from would be way too noisy and obvious, so he starts tip-toeing his way to the bathroom with plans to escape from the window in there (he knew memorizing the apartment layout would come in handy). He takes his time, making sure absolutely nothing grabs the mercenary’s attention. At one point, Hyperlaser sighs again, and shuffles a bit– Is he putting his head in his hands? Shuriken squints, attempting to see over the arm of the couch– which is a bit of a scare, but other than that, he has no trouble reaching the bathroom. The door is (thankfully) open, and he slips inside silently.
It’s a bit dark, but he’s doesn’t need to turn the light on to get out, so he just shuffles to the window and-
Stepping up to unlatch the window isn’t hard, but he notices something on the bathroom sink counter. It’s a medication bottle, the same infamous orange they always are.
It’s also undoubtedly empty.
The bottle, which is knocked over and has a lid strewn aside… somewhere, is labelled with a name that Shuriken wouldn’t be able to read even if the lights were on. He never knew Hyperlaser took medication; he supposes it makes sense, in hindsight, that someone like a burn-victim mercenary of all people would take medicine. Not that he knows this medicine is related to that at all; after all, he doesn’t even know what it does. Squinting, he leans forward. Barely, he can discern some bolded text on the label. Return bottle to… Blackrock Pharmaceutical for refill… by…
The refill date itself isn’t visible, obscured by the dark. If the bottle’s emptiness speaks for anything, the date was probably a while ago.
That is… not good. Shuriken's mind states the obvious. Maybe he forgot. I should bring this up to him later.
This alone would be considered concerning, but Shuriken happens to look up, and…
The sink mirror is practically shattered, glass appearing to be hanging to the backing through sheer willpower. The center of the mirror, where all the cracks stem from, is stained with something dark. The darkness, which is suspiciously colored and laid out like blood, has long since dried, and discreetly stakes its claim on several of the shards.
Hyperlaser must have hit the mirror.
Did he hit it by accident somehow…? But why would he hit it on purpose? And if that's blood, then did he punch it, or…
Shuriken swallows, an uneasy feeling settling deep within his gut. Whatever these things mean, he definitely shouldn’t have been allowed to see them. Well, he wasn’t allowed to see them. He’s not supposed to explore whenever he does these deliveries; just drop off the item and head home, out of the freezing weather. And that’s exactly what he’s supposed to be doing now, prying open that window and making the journey back to his own apartment.
But what if there’s something else in here that spells it out for him?
Slowly, he reaches away from the window and towards the pill bottle. Maybe he can find some clue as to what-
His search is interrupted by a meow.
Startled, it takes everything he has and then some to not fall backward against the bathtub. Princess, Hyperlaser’s feline pride and joy, is standing in the doorway, looking him in the eyes.
She shouldn’t be able to see him. He’s invisible. But she must be able to smell him, because she takes a daring step forward, challenging his place in the apartment. She lets out another meow, louder than the last.
Shuriken panics. He totally forgot about Princess.
He quickly waves his hands to shush her, before remembering he’s still invisible, and bites his tongue to prevent himself from cursing. As quiet as he can manage, he kneels down and hisses a quick shhh, praying that the admittedly cute troublemaker goes silent. Princess doesn’t get the hint and walks closer, her mews and meows acting as a security system alarm that Shuriken didn’t mean to set off.
From beyond the door, Hyperlaser’s voice filters in. “Princess?” He calls out, and Shuriken can hear the clicks of Hyperlaser’s helmet fitting tightly around his head and the whirring of it turning on. “Is something wrong, girl?”
The floorboards creak, indicating footsteps moving in the direction of the bathroom.
Shuriken doesn’t take his chances. He flips the window open and jumps out without a second thought.
—
By the time Shuriken returns home, it is well into the night. Thankfully, Slingshot and Vine Staff are no strangers to being awake this late, and are, in fact, making something in the kitchen.
At the sound of their brother’s entrance, Vine turns and smiles while Sling simply calls out hey.
“How’d the delivery go? You look cold.” Sling whistles, chopping something up with practiced ease. Vine nods, returning her attention to moving ingredients back to their cupboards.
“I am cold,” He grumbles, giving himself one more shake to rid himself of the snow that has long since sloughed off of his body, before sitting down at the kitchen table. Sympathetically, Sling briefly stops chopping and slides him a cup of tea. He’s not sure what type it is, but it’s warm, and Sling went through the effort of preparing it for him, so he’s not going to complain. “And, uh, the delivery was fine. What’s, er, what are you guys making?”
“Just fried rice, nothing special.” Vine supplies, leaning over the center counter. She must not have washed her hands after the ingredient prep, because her wooden arm’s palm is lightly stained.
Hm, Shuriken nods, taking a sip of the tea. It’s perfect for thawing out from Blackrock weather. It’s also a little bland for his taste, but that’s not really on his mind. Not when…
He takes another tentative sip, and looks back at the other two. “Have, uh…” He slowly starts, running his thumb up and down the cup. “Have you guys heard any mention from Hyperlaser about him quitting his job?”
His siblings immediately turn to look at him with wide eyes, so Shuriken assumes that no, Hyperlaser had not, in fact, brought this up at any point beforehand. Which is just as he suspected. Typical Hyperlaser; always leaving things about himself unsaid.
“Sorry, what?” Vine sputters. Her non-wooden hand is gripping the counter as she leans over, closer to her brother. “Did he actually find a new job? He told you?”
Shuriken sets the cup down awkwardly. “Er, well, he didn’t tell me…”
“Then how did you find out?” Sling has abandoned the act of making dinner entirely, now focused on the gossip of the day. His eyes narrow as a thought comes to him, and, scrutinizingly, eyes Shuriken up and down. “You didn’t go digging through his apartment, did you?”
Well. Technically he didn’t, so…
“No.”
“No eavesdropping either?” Sling pushes.
Shit.
“...Also no?” he tries.
Sling immediately sees through his lie and groans, while Vine takes the opportunity to properly wash her hands.
“Sling, eavesdropping isn't that bad.” She hums, coating the wood of her palm in soap. “We've all done it before. Especially-” she rolls her eyes. “-when it comes to those two.”
“I'm not mad about the eavesdropping, I'm mad that Shuriken is eavesdropping after, legally speaking, breaking into Hyperlaser's apartment. Because when anyone is in their own house, they're expecting to have– again, legally speaking– the right to privacy, especially since Shuriken wasn't ever actually invited inside. I'm curious about that guy too, but we’ve talked about this.” Sling pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hyperlaser is trusting us to not dig through his personal life when Katana sends you on delivery. If he finds out you’re snooping around, what happens?”
Now it’s Shuriken’s turn to groan, slumping onto the table. “I know, I know. They’re not gonna write each other love letters and it’s gonna take them a hundred more years to figure out they like each other and Katana’s gonna go back to calling us immature newspawn. ‘S not like I meant to eavesdrop, anyway.”
Vine turns off the sink water and dries her hands. “Then what were you doing?”
Shuriken perks up and gets to his feet.
“Okay, so I was dropping the gift off, right?” The other two nod. “And I hear Hyperlaser’s voice down the hall. He was on the phone with his boss, and-”
He walks around, mimicking what Hyperlaser must have looked like on the phone call. “And they’re arguing– I could hear Subspace shouting over the phone– until Hyperlaser just gets all quiet and calm, kinda like- you remember when he came to the cafe for the first time? Yeah, when he was so uninterested in talking to us and I- I dunno.” He shook his head. “I’m getting off topic. Anyway, he goes in the most, like, nothing voice I’ve ever heard and says ‘I’m not working for you anymore, Subspace.’ And then boom.” He threw his hands up for emphasis. “Hangs up the call. Then he goes and lays on the couch like he’s freshly divorced, which doesn’t make sense, because he doesn’t even know he’s in a relationship!”
“Well, that’s fantastic!” Vine clasps her hands together, a smile of relief decorating her face. Then, she seems to realize what she’s said, and the smile dips into an awkward one. “I mean, not the divorced behavior. But I’m glad he got out of that job!”
Sling stares, looking like he can’t decide whether to say thank goodness or you are absolutely invading his privacy. In the end, he just shakes his head and sighs, picking up the knife once more and chopping vegetables. “He did hate the mercenary work.” He admits.
“Wait.” Vine realizes, and furrows her brow. “Where's he working now? Did he say?”
Shuriken… didn't think about that. He just kind of assumed that Hyperlaser would somehow make do and that he moved in with someone. But he's pretty sure that Katana's his only friend, and Shuriken feels like surely that's something that would've been brought up earlier. Not only that, but delivering a letter that asks for another meetup just downright wouldn't be necessary if they had plans to live together, since they'd be able to speak in person.
“Nope, he just told Subspace that he's not working there any more and that was it. Nothing about where he's off to next. I guess… maybe he doesn't want Subspace tracking where he goes?”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” His sister agrees. “Medkit said that Subspace can be relentless at finding people when they want to.” She laughs. “Dunno what'd they'd do once they found Hyperlaser, though. It was his job to do the killing with that info!”
“Don't act like Subspace isn't capable of doing the dirty work,” Sling calls over his shoulder. “They just hired Hyperlaser to do it so they didn't have to do it. And they have Biografts at their disposal, too. It's totally possible that they could track him whenever they wanted.” He paused, adjusting his grip on the knife. “Also, I'm pretty sure I heard somewhere that they made Hyperlaser's helmet, and he can't see without that, so there's nothing saying that his helmet isn't bugged and Subspace just has a free marker on his position at all times. Wouldn't doubt it, that sounds like something Blackrock would do.” Then, as if what he had said was something incredibly simple, he began chopping again and concluded with, “Just food for thought.”
And now Shuriken is back to square one.
He must be forgetting something, because these things just aren't lining up, unless Hyperlaser was just deciding to be convoluted for… some personal reason.
Vine ohhh’s like she didn't consider that. “And you didn't hear or see anything else?” She turns to Shuriken now, pressing his story.
Shuriken holds his tongue. Because the next part of the story is most certainly less happy, and he’s not sure how he wants to tell it.
“There is, ah…” He rolls the words around in his mouth, trying to decide how it should come out. “I did see, um, other things. In his apartment.”
Sling’s head whips around with a look that screams so you did dig through his stuff while Vine ushers him on. “Well, tell us, then! What’d you see? And please say you weren’t rummaging around-”
“No, no. I was just in his bathroom, trying to get out without him seeing me because I thought it’d be really awkward- promise! I promise, Sling, I didn’t actually go through any of his stuff…” Shuriken waves his hands defensively at the look from his younger brother, as if showing that his hands are empty now will prove his innocence from over an hour ago.
Sling sighs again, dumping the chopped vegetables into some pre-cooked rice. “Go on.”
He swallows. “I, er, I was in the bathroom, right? And I’m trying to climb out through the window there.”
He can hear Sling mutter something that sounds suspiciously like accusing him of being a criminal. He chooses to ignore it.
“But right as I’m trying to get out, I just- I dunno, I didn’t know he took medication, alright? There’s a med bottle on the sink.”
Now it’s Vine’s turn to roll her eyes. “You didn’t think someone covered in burn scars would take medicine?” She jokes, and Shuriken looks away, crossing his arms.
“Well, that’s not it. O-of course he’d take medicine, I guess. That makes sense, but… it didn’t make sense for the bottle to be totally empty, right? Like, you’re supposed to get refills before it’s empty, aren’t you?” He bites his lip. “And, like- I swear, it looked like he punched the mirror. It was totally covered in cracks, there was something that I’m pretty sure is dried blood on the sharp parts, I…”
He trails off. That is where the story ended, after all. The feeling he got when first seeing the mirror has returned, that uneasy sensation that tells him he doesn’t get the bigger picture.
“...I don’t know. I guess there’s stuff going on in his life, y’know?”
He chances a glance around the room. Vine looks… uncomfortable, and Sling is biting his own lip.
“Maybe something happened.” his sister suggests, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Like, uh, maybe the meds were for a mental thing and he, er, doesn’t need them anymore. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up needing stuff for that. You remember how he was when he first started staying over at Katana’s.”
Shuriken does remember. He’s sure that about 90% of the things Hyperlaser says when he’s drunk are things that he doesn’t mean to say in the slightest, but when it’s summer and everyone’s windows are open to filter out the heat, it’s hard not to hear the conversations next door when the mercenary just starts rambling about how Katana is everything, and he is nothing. And Katana– also drunk– had asked Is that really how you feel? to which Hyperlaser hadn’t hesitated with saying Always, ‘tana, through hiccups.
Shuriken… hopes that it's not related.
“...Yeah. That could be right, but… what about the mirror?”
“Everyone has their bad days, we shouldn’t assume.” Sling states, neutral as ever, though his eyes won’t meet Shuriken’s, looking squarely at the food in front of him. “And because we’re not assuming anything about him, we are also not going to bring this up to him. He’ll probably tell us about the job thing next time he visits the cafe, and we’re going to act exactly like we would’ve if we found out naturally. Not like we went digging through his apartment.”
“But-”
“Shuri, I know we joke about speeding up their relationship and that we’re all curious but that’s immensely different from snooping through other people’s stuff after what is technically breaking and entering. It’s not right.” Sling looks at him now, spooning food into a bowl for himself without a single glance. “I just…” and he purses his lips, like he wants to say something else, but before Shuriken can ask, all that comes out is “He trusts us. We shouldn’t break that.” With that, he takes out another bowl and begins putting food in that one as well.
Shuriken runs his fingers around the cuff of his sleeve. “I don’t know– I don’t know, Sling. It just doesn’t seem right, I can’t explain it.” Realization dawns on him, and he narrows his eyes back at his brother. “And don’t act like you’re not curious about him, either! Every time he’s within five miles of Katana, you eye him like you think he’s gonna steal the cash register. And we’ve all watched those two before-”
“Okay, but that’s different, right?” Sling argues back. “You see how that’s different from going into his house and digging around? Just because all of us wanna see how he and Katana play out doesn’t give us the right to turn his permission into an invitation to rummage through his apartment.”
Shuriken bites his tongue to avoid calling his brother something rude. “I mean, surely you-”
Slingshot looks at him with tired eyes, and it is here that Shuriken knows he’s lost. “Even if he is going through something, why would that make it right to breach his privacy?”
“I…” Vine drummed her fingers on the countertop, looking between her two brothers with hesitation. “I guess Sling’s right. I wouldn’t want him to think we’ve been eavesdropping. We can wait until he brings it up first, right, Shuri?”
Sling nods for his brother, and places the bowls of fried rice on the table.
And Shuriken can’t really argue with that.
So all three of them eat dinner, and all three of them go to bed. But only two of them sleep, because Shuriken can’t stop thinking that he’s missed something.
Surely the other two are worried about their neighbor’s lover. Surely they don’t just hear all of this and assume there’s nothing wrong. And surely there’s something wrong with Hyperlaser, because why would he quit his job and punch the mirror and leave an empty bottle and not say a thing…?
The specific reason eludes him, dancing around his mind in a way that does nothing but taunt him. He knows, he’s so sure, but at the same time he doesn’t have a clue, so Shuriken's only option is to fall asleep and pray realization comes in the morning.
He pulls the bedsheets over his body tighter. Whatever the answer is, he's certain it can't be good.
—
Hyperlaser is no stranger to penning his own name.
For years, he’s signed off on medical bills, and for years longer, contract work. He doesn’t need vision to smoothly print and initial his name on paper a hundred times a day if need be.
But, for the first time in a long time, he can’t seem to manage the simple ten letters needed.
He’s writing. It’s a message for Katana- or, well, it’s one of many messages intended for Katana. He has spent the last hour hunched over his table, shaky hand tracing out the letters in a handwriting that would be better fit for a newspawn than a thirty-eight year old inphernal. This has to be the thirtieth- no, fortieth- letter he’s tried to write, but the number doesn’t matter because none of them were good enough.
Dear Katana,
I have missed you greatly since the last time we have met. Well, perhaps that is an understatement. It’s like I can’t exist without you. My heart beats when we’re together but when we’re apart it feels dead. Is that normal? Should I be concerned? I don’t know; you’re the one with the fancy words. I wish you’d tell me what this sensation is. Of anyone, you’d know what’s going on. I can only imagine
(Thrown in the trash after a sigh.)
None of them had the right idea.
Dear Katana,
You’re everything I wish I was. You’re something perfect, something beautiful. Every part of you is noble, and every word you say is holy, but you’re wasting it all on me. I can only wish I was someone that deserved someone like you. But I could never justify being the person that drags you down. I hope you understand that this is why
(Crumpled. Tossed into the trash.)
None of them had the right words.
Dear Katana,
Do you feel it too? That pulsing in your body that means you’re alive? I think there’s something wrong with me, because when you’re around it won’t stop. It’s not right; my heart thinks I’m alive, but I haven’t been alive for the past nineteen years, Katana. Tell me how to fix it. How do I fix it? How do I
(Trash, without a second thought.)
It had to be perfect. For Katana, it couldn’t be anything but.
Dear Katana,
I think I’m in love with you.
(He makes the effort to shove this one further into the garbage than any other.)
And all these letters, none of them got the point across.
Dear Katana,
You make me
(Trash, trash, trash. He can already feel this one is wrong.)
The point that he was hungry but tired. That he craved what they could be but knew he’d never earned it. That something was deeply wrong, that his heart was beating even though he’d died nineteen years ago in that fire. That he was wrong for defying that fate when all of his friends had taken it.
Dear Katana,
I can’t help but be selfish, continuing to take you away from someone who deserves you more. When is the next time we can be together? Is it tomorrow? Perhaps the next life? Katana, I’m sorry. I could never make you give up the life you have now, that would be selfish. But I suppose that’s all I am. It’s all I’ve ever been. I just keep taking and taking and taking
(Trash.)
Hand trembling, like he was in the wrong for daring to write the letter in the first place, he pulls out an untouched new piece of paper and immediately taints it by scrawling Katana’s name once more in his horrid handwriting, like a mantra.
Dear Katana,
He attempts to shift the paper to give his hand a better angle, but his thumb brushes the fresh ink and smudges it on the already defiled paper.
I’m sorry for
And the letter is a failure, just like the others, so he crushes it into a small, worthless ball and throws it in the trash.
He puts his head in his hands. He has to say something. He can’t leave Katana hanging, not when he’s put in the time to reach out to Hyperlaser like there’s something he can give in return. After everything the red-horned inphernal had let him take, after all the times he's played along with Hyperlaser's facade of continued existence, he needed to repay in some way. More accurately, he needed to be cut off from the eternal, intoxicating tap that was his only friend, lest he bleed Katana dry.
(He's been bleeding Katana dry anyway, leeching into the inphernal's mind and convincing him that Hyperlaser wasn't a sinner. Corrupting those that cleanse the corrupted... Was there a punishment for something like that? And didn’t he deserve it?)
Hyperlaser looks at Katana's letter once more.
Dearest Hyperlaser,
I have once again entrusted Shuriken to make a delivery for me. Enclosed, you will find not only this letter but also a small glass figure. I know Princess, ever your favorite, looked quite a lot like this figure and thought you may enjoy having not one but two beautiful little kittens to look at. I hope she does not get jealous.
If you find yourself available, I would be most honored to see you over again soon. Whatever your taste for dinner may be, cast your worries aside– I will find such a thing to the utmost best of my ability. And worry not for my own taste. By now, you should know that whatever it is you prefer, I will follow. Please inform me as soon as possible about your decision; I await your response with open arms.
Signed, Katana.
There it was, an effortless signature on a letter that had probably taken a single minute to write. Why couldn’t he do the same?
Was it because he simply had more he needed to say?
The letter had arrived at some point after he had come home from work, because it certainly hadn’t been there when he’d dusted his boots of snow and made that phone call. Taunting him in an otherwise empty apartment, a reminder he had ends to tie before-
Katana is expecting something of him. Something he would love to give but doesn't have the right to.
So, with a deep, deep breath, Hyperlaser obeys in the simplest, vaguest way he can. Doesn’t let a single thought cloud his words.
Dear Katana,
If you would have me, I would love to come over once more.
Signed, Hyperlaser.
And that’s that.
He leaves the letter on his table in plain sight, on the off-chance Shuriken stops by again, and if it doesn’t get picked up he’ll just send a text the old-fashioned way. The poor boy, running through the snow just to act as a delivery service for Hyperlaser. That agility and curiosity shouldn’t have its time wasted on menial busywork; he knows Katana means well, but there's no point. The matter isn't helped by the fact that in every purposeful step, every snarky glance, every prideful smile Shuriken dares to don, he sees himself, young and confident and able; sure of himself that he'll be part of Blackrock's best.
Well, in all the things that Past Hyperlaser and Present Shuriken share, wit isn't one of them. Any fool could've seen the problems with Korblox. Any fool could've made the attempt to leave; it doesn't matter how hard it would’ve been, he should have tried. Anyone with the ability to breathe should have seen the fire and made the conscious decision to move-
He's been dead for so long that the fact he can remember what he used to be like is a miracle. Or, more closely, torture. But, good or bad, all things come to an end eventually. And if the end won't come on its own, won't consume him through flames or bleed him out, won't give him the same treatment as all of his friends crushed under rubble or burnt to cinders or killed in cold, battle-hungry blood, then he'll bring the end out himself.
And, if he’s lucky, he’ll do so in abiding by a promise in the form of one final dinner at Katana’s.
Well, would you look at that. He's finally got something to look forward to.