244.4

Tomoyo's legs nearly gave out.

Raika was here. Alive. The relief that flooded through Tomoyo's body made her forget about the blood for half a second because at least there was still a Raika to bleed.

Tomoyo took in the familiar sight: the black varsity jacket with white sleeves that Raika wore regardless of weather, the way her light brown hair fell past her shoulders in that Raika trademark messy way, and those striking yellow eyes. Even now, covered in blood, Raika looked so effortlessly beautiful.

Then Tomoyo's gaze shifted to the fish.

She recognized it immediately: an anglerfish. Its bioluminescent lure dangled from its head, casting a sickly glow across Raika's face.

She always found them unsettling. Not because of how they looked - plenty of deep-sea creatures looked stranger, like the pelican eel - but because of what they did. Female anglerfish absorbed their mates until nothing remained, the males reduced to appendages that existed only to fertilize eggs. It was efficient, she supposed, but tragic too, to go on living just for someone else.

Raika and her anglerfish watched a Magellan penguin hop off a rock and waddle toward the water. The scene would've been almost peaceful if not for the blood on Raika's hands.

Why couldn't anyone see it?

Tomoyo glanced around the exhibit. A mother stood several feet away, holding her daughter's hand while the girl pressed her face against the glass. Neither of them looked at Raika and the blood pooling at her feet.

Can they not see it? Like the eel? Like the anglerfish?

The anglerfish rotated slowly, its lure swaying as it turned to face Tomoyo. A second later, Raika turned around too.

"There you are, Tomo-chan. Took you long enough."

Tomoyo wanted to ask a million questions. Where have you been for three days? Why is there blood all over you? Can you see the fish too?

…Why are you leaving?

But before she could form even a single word, Raika grabbed her hand. Her fingers were slick with blood, but her grip was solid as she pulled Tomoyo away from the penguin exhibit. The eel and anglerfish floated after them, their body casting strange shadows across the walls.

They stopped in front of a door marked STAFF ONLY. Raika pushed it open.

The smell hit first. Not unpleasant, exactly. Just the smell of something vaguely metallic that reminded Tomoyo of the seafood section at the grocery store. The kitchen stretched before them, stainless steel counters lined with plastic tubs and cutting boards. A woman stood at the far end, chopping something that might have been mackerel.

"Sayumi-san," Raika called out.

The woman looked up, her short rust-orange hair catching the fluorescent light. She set down her knife, eyes moving from Raika to Tomoyo and back again.

"I knew I asked for helping hands, but I didn't ask you kids to skip school."

"School's cancelled today." Raika lied. "You know, because of the murders."

Sayumi wiped her hands on her apron and crossed her arms.

"That right?"

"Yeah."

Sayumi studied Tomoyo for a long moment. Then she sighed and jerked her chin toward the counter.

"Well, if you're here, might as well make yourselves useful."

Raika nodded before dragging Tomoyo the nearest counter. She slapped a cutting board down, leaving a bloody handprint on the plastic.

"W-Wha…" Tomoyo whispered.

"Trust the process. You'll enjoy it."

That was all Raika said before reaching into one of the plastic tubs and pulling out a whole mackerel, dropping it onto the cutting board with a wet thud. The fish's dead eye stared up Tomoyo.

"Prep this for Ringo."

Tomoyo blinked. "Ringo?"

"The penguin. You know which one."

She did know. Ringo was the juvenile Magellan with the slightly lopsided waddle, the one who always hoped onto the lowest rock during feeding time and waited with more patience than the others.

"You know what to do," Raika said.

Tomoyo absolutely did not know what to do.

Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. She knew to remove the head, debone the thing, cut it into portions. She'd read enough articles about penguin diets. But reading and doing were completely different things, and the knife Raika pressed into her palm felt heavier than it should.

Tomoyo stared at it.

The blade caught the fluorescent light, and for a moment, all she could see was the umbilical cord stretching from her spine to the eel. She'd considered it this morning. One quick cut and maybe all the weirdness would stop.

But she might bleed out, and Raika would worry.

What if I cut Raika's cord instead?

Raika would bleed, probably. But Tomoyo would be right there. She'd press her hands against the wound, tell Raika to stay still while she called for help. Or maybe she wouldn't call for help right away. Maybe she'd just hold Raika for a bit, feel Raika's warmth seeping between her fingers, hear Raika say her name in that way she only did when she was hurt or scared.

If Raika bled, she'd need Tomoyo again.

She'd have to stay.

She wouldn't leave.

"Tomo-chan?" Raika's voice cut through her thoughts. 

Tomoyo blinked, realizing she'd been gripping the handle so tight her knuckles had gone white.

"Sorry. I was just... thinking about how to cut it."

"Well, don't overthink it. We both know you never do well when you think too hard."

Tomoyo nodded before turning back to the fish. She positioned the blade behind the mackerel's gills, then pressed down. The resistance made her uneasy, but she pushed harder until the knife broke through. The head rolled to the side. When she glanced up, Raika was smiling.

Keep going, that smile said. You're doing good.

Tomoyo cut slower, more precisely, hoping to preserve it.

Meanwhile, the eel and anglerfish drifted closer, their bodies casting overlapping circles of light across the counter. Both creatures stared at her hands.

Do they even care? Fish don't think about family, right? They eat each other all the time, right…?

Tomoyo shook the thoughts out of her head and continued working. The next cut went smoother. She did it without mangling the flesh too badly, and by the third fish, she found a rhythm.

This is kind of fun.

The realization made her pause mid cut. What kind of person thinks chopping up dead fish is fun? Maybe the same kind who'd murdered three people. Maybe she'd been the killer all along and just didn't know it. The possibility popped into her head before she could stop it, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

That's not funny. You're not funny.

She grabbed another fish, forcing herself to focus.

"Knew you'd be good at this," Raika said. "Keep going like that and you could be the killer."

Tomoyo's knife slipped, nearly taking off her fingertip.

"Kidding." Raika added, though she didn't sound particularly apologetic.

"I know..." Tomoyo forced her hands to steady again. Had Raika somehow read her mind? "I just... I'm glad you're here. I thought maybe you were-"

"Dead?"

"Don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like it doesn't matter."

"I'm not dead, so it doesn't."

Tomoyo wanted to grab her, shake her, make her understand how terrifying the past three days had been. But instead she just kept cutting fish, because at least this way Raika was standing next to her and that was enough.

It was supposed to be enough.

Tomoyo set down the knife and stared at her hands. Blood covered both palms, streaked across her fingers, pooled in the crease of her hands. She flexed them and watched the red move a little.

Maybe that's all it was.

Maybe Raika had just been chopping fish earlier. Maybe Tomoyo had seen blood and immediately jumped to murders because her brain couldn't help but come up with the worst-case scenario. Maybe Raika was fine and had been fine this whole time and Tomoyo was the problem, as usual, making mountains out of mole hills and-

"Nice work."

Raika appeared behind her and grabbed several chunks of mackerel from Tomoyo's pile. She held them up to the light, examining the cuts with an approving nod.

"These are way cleaner than mine were on my first try." Raika dropped the pieces into a bucket. "I basically turned the fish into mush."

"When was your first try?"

"Couple weeks ago." Raika grabbed more fish. "Sayumi-san needed help and I had free time."

Couple weeks ago.

Tomoyo had no memory of Raika mentioning the aquarium. No texts about it, no passing comments at school. Just this sudden ability to prep meals for the aquarium's residents, plus a friendship with staff members Tomoyo hadn't known existed.

How much don't I know?

The question lingered when Sayumi came over and examined Tomoyo's work. She prodded a few pieces with her finger, then gave a slight nod.

"Not bad for a first timer." She hoisted the bucket. "Come on. Let's see if the penguins approve."

Raika grabbed Tomoyo's wrist and pulled her back through the door they entered. After the kitchen's harsh fluorescence, the aquarium felt too dim. Tomoyo blinked hard, forcing her eyes to adjust.

The penguin exhibit stretched before them. Sayumi had already climbed over the barrier and was making her way across the rocks, bucket swinging at her side as several penguins waddled toward her.

Raika leaned against the railing. The anglerfish floated beside her, its lure casting strange shadows across her face again. Tomoyo's eel drifted closer to the glass, watching the penguins with what looked like interest.

Sayumi reached into the bucket and pulled out a piece of mackerel. She held it up, and Ringo hopped off his rock with unusual impatience, waddling forward with that lopsided gait.

"That's the one you cut first," Raika said.

The piece looked mangled even from where Tomoyo stood, the flesh torn rather than sliced cleanly. Ringo would take one look and reject it, probably waddle away to wait for something better, and Sayumi would know Tomoyo had no idea what she was doing.

Ringo opened his beak and snatched the mackerel from Sayumi's fingers.

"See?" Raika's elbow nudged Tomoyo's ribs. "Told you it was fine."

Relief flooded through Tomoyo's chest. Ringo swallowed the fish in one gulp and looked up at Sayumi for more.

"He liked it," Tomoyo whispered.

"You made it, after all."

Tomoyo watched Sayumi feed the other penguins, distributing pieces to the gathering crowd. Each time a penguin accepted the mackerel, that warm feeling in Tomoyo's chest expanded a bit more.

She'd done something right. Something useful. 

Tomoyo turned toward Raika, hoping for that smile again. But Raika wasn't smiling. Instead, her yellow eyes locked onto Tomoyo's face, searching for something. 

"Are you happy?"

"I..."

Yes. Of course I am. You're here. You're alive. What else matters?

Except that wasn't quite true, was it?

Because Raika was here, but Tomoyo didn't know why. Didn't know where she'd learned to cut fish or when she'd befriended Sayumi-san or what she'd been doing for three days. Didn't know if Raika was really leaving or if that had been another joke-that-wasn't-a-joke.

Tomoyo knew what Raika looked like when she was annoyed, when she was tired, when she was pretending not to care about something. She knew Raika took her coffee black and made fun of people who didn't. She knew Raika always wore her signature varsity jacket because she couldn't be bothered getting new clothes.

But she didn't know this. Didn't know the parts of Raika that exists now.

When did I stop knowing you?

The silence stretched too long. Something flickered across Raika's face that Tomoyo couldn't quite make out. Disappointment, maybe, or frustration.

Raika's hand curled into a fist.

She's angry.

"I'm happy!" Tomoyo grabbed Raika's hand, uncurling those tense fingers with both of hers. "I'm happy, I promise, I just-"

Raika shoved her.

Tomoyo stumbled backward, confusion drowning her thoughts because why would Raika push her, what did she do wrong this time, it's always her fault, it's always-

Something whistled through the air.

A spear. No, not a spear. Tomoyo wasn't sure what it was, but it moved like one, cutting through space between them and going straight through Raika's stomach.

The sound was wet, the kind of noise Tomoyo's knife had made earlier when it broke through fish bones, except this was Raika, this was Raika.

The spear changed direction.

Tomoyo didn't have time to scream before it entered her skull.

Pain exploded behind her eyes, burning like someone had lit a match inside her brain. Her knees gave out. The floor rushed up to meet her, but she barely felt the impact.

Blood filled her vision. Everything went red, then blurry, shapes bleeding into one another until she couldn't tell the aquarium floor from her own body.

The eel floated in front of her face.

Its body pulsed once, twice. Those eyes stared at her with something that might've been pity.

Raika.

The name formed in her mind but didn't make it past her lips.

Raika. Raika. Raika. Raika. Raika.

The light from the eel faded.

Raika…