Kisaku stood in the front lobby of Rosemary Sanitarium. Today was the day (S/b) was scheduled to visit their brother. The doctor stood with his hands firmly clasped behind his back. He wasn't entirely sure what he should be thinking in that moment. Twice had Y/n proved truthful.
Strikeout on three?
Kisaku didn't honestly know what to expect when he met (S/b). Would he feel the wrong-footedness he experienced when he saw Miss Misani? A woman reduced to nothing but the patients she had used to treat? A woman who looked thin, glassy, and gaunt. A woman who smiled at the thought of Y/n...
Or.
Would Kisaku feel a careful resignation? A tired defeat? Like when Fujimoto began to sweat; began to lie. And at the end would Kisaku tiredly think, Y/n was right.
Or, against all odds, will Y/n be wrong about this one thing?
Two orderlies and a nurse manned the front desk. The lobby was empty save for the four of them; other than a frail old woman sitting in an empty chair in the corner. Based on her civilian clothes, she too was waiting for visiting hours to officially start.
Kisaku checked his watch. Only a minute now.
Right on the hour, an unfamiliar (man/woman) walked in through the sanitarium's main public entrance. They glanced around nervously before catching sight of the front desk and walking over.
"Visiting or admitting?" the nurse asked from behind her wide desktop screen.
"Um," the person flushed, looking slightly put off by the question. "Visiting."
The nurse looked up then, "Name?"
"(S/b)," the person murmured so quietly Kisaku barely heard it.
Hazel eyes quickly inspected the person from top to bottom. Despite the fact they had been trying adamantly to visit Y/n for years, the person named (S/b) appeared as skittish as a deer. Kisaku began mentally cataloging their behavior.
"I.D. please," the nurse asked prefunctly.
They offered it, glancing around nervously again. Their eyes didn't seem to meet Kisaku's however, for all of (S/b)'s staring.
"All right, and who are you here to visit?"
At that question, Kisaku stepped in.
"Hi, hello, Dr. Kisaku Haitani," he introduced himself to (S/b)'s flighty form, throwing his hand out. "I'm the doctor currently overseeing your brother's care." With a side look to the nurse, he said, "I'll take things from here, nurse."
She took one look at Kisaku's badge before shrugging it off. "Go right ahead, doctor."
(S/b) looked from the nurse to Kisaku. "You..." they chewed their lip, "You're the one I spoke with? Dr. Haitani?"
"Yes, I am. If you would follow me, I will escort you to Ward X. Where Y/n L/n is currently staying," he explained, moving his hand in a "walk ahead of me" gesture when the (man/woman) failed to take it.
(S/b) sent another paranoid glance around the lobby before complying.
They walked side by side through the white crisscrossing hallways of the sanitarium, Kisaku only stepping out ahead of (S/b) to key his badge into each electronically secured set of double doors.
After taking in enough of (S/b)'s natural tics and behaviors, Kisaku decided to speak finally.
"I hope you don't mind," the doctor began, "but I wanted to ask you personally about your brother. He has been a very difficult patient to decipher."
(S/b) looked momentarily startled, "...That's fine, I guess."
"Well, for one, Y/n says nothing but good things about your parents — my condolences by the way, I do not mean to be disrespectful. I am just having a bit of trouble understanding the meaning behind the things Mr. L/n says."
(S/b) swallowed, eyes as wide as saucers. "He speaks... good of mom and dad?"
"Yes, only good things," Kisaku's pleasant expression morphed into one of mock confusion. "Did Y/n and your parents have a good relationship; would you say?"
"It seemed fine," (S/b) snapped shortly, "until the day they died."
Kisaku sensed the irritation in their voice and made a note of it. What was interesting there was the way (S/b) had chosen to word that jeer. Why had he said "until the day they died" and not something more direct and stinging.
Like "until the day Y/n killed them" or —
Kisaku was thinking too much into it. He moved on.
"I apologize. I realize this is a difficult subject."
"It's fine, doctor." Yet, (S/b) remained tense.
"While he speaks well of them, he doesn't seem to say anything about you, (S/b), and I can't fathom the reason why," Kisaku smiled very pleasantly.
"What does he say about me?" (S/b)'s hands clenched into fists by their sides. Kisaku's eyes moved back up to catch suspicious (S/b)'s guarded ones.
"Next to nothing," Kisaku replied airily as if the subject was of little importance, "beyond the fact of your existence."
(S/b)'s hands slowly relaxed, unballing their fingers. "I see," they said measuredly.
"I want to ask you about the murders —"
(S/b) stumbled over their feet; Kisaku caught their arm, steadying them, before they could fall. (S/b) wrenched their arm away from the doctor's secure hold.
"Why are you interrogating me? I'm not a patient here," (S/b) snapped irritably. "I only came in to see my brother; nothing else."
Kisaku put his hands up in a placating gesture. "You are absolutely right, (S/b), please excuse my behavior."
"Excused," (S/b) bit out, irate.
The rest of the walk to Ward X was filled with nothing but a tense, overbearing silence. When they reached the secure double doors of Ward X, Kisaku unlocked the doors and nodded to the two security guards on duty.
"Visitor," the doctor explained in one word.
The two guards exchanged a glance before asking, "Do they know the rules?"
The second dug through a drawer at his elbow, pulling out an emergency button (the same model as the one always secured around Kisaku's neck). "Here," he muttered, handing it over to (S/b). "You'll need it."
"Go ahead and go over the rules," Kisaku invited the first guard as (S/b) inspected the new accessory with no small amount of apprehension.
"For visitors: no entering the cell, stand four feet away from the door and glass wall. After Amano here searches you, you'll be free to enter. No giving the patient any items and we'll be watching you the whole time so smile for the cameras," the man explained, nodding to the monitors behind him displaying various settings captured on camera. "Anything happens, press that little red button around your neck as hard as you can, we'll be right there with a call for backup already put in."
The second guard stood and did a quick, professional pat down of (S/b).
"Good to go," he spoke gruffly.
"That's that. Good luck," the first guard snorted before releasing the second gate into Ward X.
As (S/b) and Kisaku departed they heard the faint chuckle;
"Who the fuck would want to visit that psycho?" and the second guard's responding laugh.
Then it returned to silence, the gate clanging shut behind them. It secured itself with a loud beep.
"How long has it been since you've seen Y/n?" Kisaku attempted a less antagonistic line of questioning.
"Nearly eight years, I think," (S/b) answered, face practically turning to stone the closer they got to Y/n's cell. "Has... Is Y/n dangerous?" the (woman/man) glanced backwards as if recalling the pat down and the guard's instructions. Their fingers fiddled with the panic button dangling from around their neck.
Kisaku's brows furrowed. "There have been two incidents, but one was not actually Y/n's fault and the other well —" Kisaku glanced over at (S/b)'s face. They had nearly torn their bottom lip open with all their nervous gnawing. "No," the doctor continued quietly, "I wouldn't say he's dangerous."
(S/b)'s eyes snapped to Kisaku's. "He murdered people. He is dangerous."
The doctor's brows knitted together, "I'm sorry, I thought you meant currently dangerous? As though you are concerned you are endangering yourself by visiting him?"
"No," (S/b) shook their head slowly. "I'm not in any danger. I know that."
"Why do you believe that? Do you think Y/n wouldn't hurt you even after what he —?"
"I know what he did!" (S/b) nearly shouted. "I didn't mean to say that. I didn't mean to — what I meant was... He can't hurt me. Because he's secured, isn't he? You took every precaution? This facility has taken every precaution —?"
"Yes," Kisaku said reassuringly, giving the (woman/man) a penetrating look.
"He can't ever leave, can he?" (S/b) asked under their breath.
"He is perfectly secured."
What else was there to say?
(S/b) breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," they chanted voicelessly. "Good."
Good.
"And he doesn't say anything about me? Ever?"
"No... he doesn't."
(S/b) gave a small, hysterical sort of laugh before they again chanted, "Good, good. That's good."
Y/n L/n was feeling confident, lax. He held the aura of a panther, top of the food chain, nothing to be bothered by — despite the gawking faces that sometimes appeared at the window. Yes, he did wonder how Kisaku was planning to question his (brother/sister) but Y/n figured he'd know the instant Haitani did it. The doctor was nearly as transparent as the glass wall.
And Y/n was all content and good-natured, laying flat on his bed, fingers stained with charcoal...
...Until a horrible sound echoed off the walls. One that the (h/c) boy would recognize in an instant — anywhere.
Y/n was out of his bed, charcoal drawing nearly torn in his haste to conceal it under his paper-thin pillow, and charcoal thrown haphazardly on the floor. One kick sent it rolling under the bedframe.
With his chest beginning to constrict, Y/n paced wildly for a moment before he walked up to the glass wall and slammed his hands flat against it.
There was no way that Y/n had heard that. Not that sound.
Lips twitching into a snarl, the (h/c) boy waited. His thoughts were his anger's foil. Calm, cool, collected, they flowed like a river...
Because that had been (S/b)'s laugh. A horrid sound Y/n would recognize anywhere — any time — no matter what — no matter when — no matter how long it had been — he knows that sound. Down to his very bones.
And Kisaku — the doctor had said he would be discrete — and Daichi: resigned —
Y/n's heart fluttered and twisted: a tune of anxiety as he put the pieces together.
Two people stepped into his line of sight. And with a cruelty only of this world, one wore a visitor's sticker and a name Y/n hadn't seen in nearly a decade.
(S/b).
Y/n took a long moment — they both did, (S/b) and he, just to look.
Funnily enough, (S/b) look just as emaciated as Y/n did. They were both gaunt, starved, and haunted. But they were also eight years older, and (S/b) looked like an independent young (man/woman). Y/n, of course, in his hospital garb, with his crudely cut wild hair, and his eyes ringed with insomnia looked every bit the crazy person this place made him out to be.
When Y/n was finished with his inspection, he turned furious eyes on Haitani. The burning look in (e/c) irises seemed to say, "So, this is your plan?" and they said it unkindly.
No part of Y/n was content with this turn of events.
However, his attention was quickly taken by (S/b) again.
"Y/n," (she/he) said.
The (h/c) boy was momentarily torn between echoing his sibling's words, saying nothing — acknowledging nothing — and, and...
"Why are you here?" (E/c) eyes narrowed into vicious, cutting slits.
(S/b) opened their mouth — and then closed it.
"You've been requesting to visit me for years," Y/n's voice was thunder; the intensity of his eyes the lightning. "What. Do. You. Want?"
(S/b) stared. Y/n stared. Kisaku looked between the both of them.
"I wanted to give you this..." (S/b) spoke quietly, pulling out a thin envelope. "Since I can't give you anything, I'll just..." (she/he) glanced at both Kisaku and the surrounding cameras before (S/b) stepped closer, unfolding the envelope's flap. It hadn't been properly sealed.
(S/b) promptly turned it upside down and a single thing fell from the envelope's depths.
Y/n laughed at the small pitter patter of a plastic packet hitting the clinical tile below them.
It was nothing... but a small packet of salad dressing.
"I know they don't have any in here," (S/b) stared down at the condiment bag — both of them were. Kisaku could not understand the significance of salad dressing.
What the hell was going on?
Y/n's laugh twisted into a harsh sound. "Always knew how to make me laugh..."
(S/b) glanced up, "Do you still laugh, Y/n?"
"All the time," Y/n pressed forward against the glass wall; face barely an inch away.
"Does it still make you laugh?" (S/b) toed the salad dressing packet with a worn shoe.
"Sometimes," the boy admitted. "How about you?"
"Sometimes," (S/b) echoed.
"That's where it all went wrong wasn't it?" Y/n sighed, wistful.
"No," (S/b) shook their head. "Everything went wrong the moment you were born." Then, with that (she/he) turned away and said to Kisaku, "I'm done visiting. That's all I wanted to say. I won't be back."
Then (S/b) reached up with a placid smile and pressed the emergency button. Kisaku jumped as an alarm sounded. The gate at the opposite end of Ward X wrenched open and guards rushed down the hallway.
While this went down, Y/n only stared at (S/b) with a smile. As though he had not only expected all of this, but was satisfied even at their choice of exit.
When the guards realized nothing was happening (Y/n in his cell, and everyone safely outside of it), they looked bothered but they still escorted Miss/Mister (S/b) out of the ward.
Kisaku stayed behind only for a minute.
"What was that, Y/n?" the doctor asked.
Yet, Y/n's eyes hadn't left the spot (S/b) disappeared at.
"If I didn't know any better, I would say that was my final warning." Y/n then laughed; a cold, wretched sound, "They still hate me... don't they?"
"How can they?"
"How can they...?"
Kisaku left the ward, Y/n's distracted mutterings keeping him company, echoing in his ears.
"Wait! Please (S/b)!" Kisaku barely caught them in the parking lot. "Wait, I —"
"Just leave me be," (S/b) snapped at the doctor. "I did what I had to do. Now, I'm leaving and I'm not ever coming back."
"Just tell me what it meant — the envelope —"
But (S/b) only got in their car, ready to slam the door shut in Kisaku's face.
Until he said; "Y/n said you were involved in the murders —" It was his last resort; Kisaku needed answers.
(S/b) didn't shut their door after that pronouncement. Instead, they appeared stricken.
"What did you say?" they asked breathlessly.
"I said," Kisaku spoke more evenly now he wasn't running to stop (S/b) from leaving. "Y/n claimed you were involved in the murders."
(S/b) exhaled quickly, "Did he now?" (She/he) gave the doctor a good long look. "I'll remember that."
Then they slammed the car door shut and tore out of the parking space. Tires screeched as (S/b)'s car blasted toward the first security checkpoint.
Kisaku stared after them; hair windblown.
A foreboding feeling sunk inside Kisaku's stomach.
"I'll remember that."
Kisaku stared.