Half-Sight

09 | poison

a/n

hey everyone :)

apologies for missing last week's update, but here's chapter 9 of half-sight. hope you enjoy!

with love,

krissy

♙

p o i s o n

I CAN'T STOP thinking about Bohai.

The memory of blood sprayed across his shirt and his shivering body swamped in bedrolls sends hot shame rising in my chest. As obaa-san lays out mouth-watering dishes of karaage and agedashi dōfu, kushiyaki and plates of tsukemono on the side, the peaceful silence that falls strangely over us only makes me feel more guilty.

Beside our low table, a window gives way into a kitchen shrouded in darkness. I imagine the whir of a helicopter as it sweeps a blinding spotlight over Bohai. Police dogs snarling. Or Bohai collapsing on the street. Waking up to Nobu sitting in front of him with that cocky tone, asking all the wrong questions.

"Why don't you use a band-aid?" obaa-san complains.

"I don't need one."

"Take some medicine."

"It's okay. This isn't a pharmacy, remember?"

I catch some grumbling. Chopsticks clink against dishes as we all dig in. My stomach growls, but the anxiety in my chest seems to dull the gaping appetite.

Someone bumps my arm. It's Ren.

"Eat," he says. "Don't worry about the guy outside."

Obaa-san picks up our exchange. "You met the boy outside?"

We stop.

"You met him?" I ask.

"Hm?" A throaty laugh leaves her, as if it's cute that we're so confused. "Yun likes sitting on the bench across the street with a bottle of shochu to enjoy the night air. His brother helps me carry in deliveries all the time."

Oh, no.

"Yun?" says Ren stiffly.

"What's that attitude?" she chastises, then waves her hand. "Don't judge a little boy for drinking alone, hm? That was you. At least until Bohai-kun moved in and saved you from becoming an alcoholic, right?"

"Obaa-san."

Goro's document flashes through my mind. Yun's company. Hirabayashi Security Service. "Obaa-san," I begin tentatively, "what's his brother's name?"

"Huh? Ah. I don't think he ever introduced himself. But he's a very nice boy." Then, with a little chuckle: "He's very handsome, now that I think of—"

"Don't take help from him anymore," cuts in Ren sharply.

She jumps, then laughs. "If you think I can carry in all those boxes in on my own—"

"'I'm serious."

I wince at his tone. "Ren—"

"Look at this attitude," she grumbles. "Should I be flattered that you think I can bring in deliveries on my own? Hm?"