home? back? starring ; kaamu, tsuranashi
12/03/25

kaamu had always been the one in control, and tsuranashi learned that early.

from the moment they could walk, it was her leading, him following. her making the decisions, him obeying without question. he had never known a mother, a father, a home—only her. only kaamu. she was his caretaker, his teacher, his ruler.

they lived on the streets, moving from alley to alley, abandoned buildings and forgotten corners of the city. it wasn’t a life for a child, but kaamu made it work, she had to. and maybe, if tsuranashi was lucky, she’d let him rest when the night got too cold, pressing up against him in the dark, her body warm, protective, as if to remind him that he was hers.

but kaamu had gifts. she had power. she had something he didn't. she had a lot that he didn't, actually. she could bend the world to her will while he could only watch.

shadow manipulation. she would sit in the darkness, concentrating, until the shadows around them twisted into solid, writhing shapes. she made little creatures at first—shadow rabbits, birds, hands that moved like puppets. but as she grew older, so did her control. she could shape them into people, towering figures of pure black, standing guards while they slept.

weather manipulation. when the weather would get warmer, she would raise her arms to the sky, and heat would form, thick and heavy, manifesting in her hands. when it would snow, she would focus her eyes on the snowfall, and to her will, it would whip down torrential, even targeting certain people if she so wished to do so.

inducing death. this was her favorite. kaamu learned young that she didn’t need to fight. she didn’t need strength. all she had to do was reach out, whisper something soft, and watch the life drain from someone’s eyes. it was the easiest thing in the world.

she used her abilities to keep them alive.

stealing was easy. she’d send a ripple of shadows through a store, snuff out the lights, and while the cashier fumbled in confusion, she’d take whatever they needed. money, food, warm clothes—whatever she wanted, really.

killing was even easier. when she was ten, a man tried to grab her wrist on the street. tsuranashi had been too small to help. too weak. but he didn’t need to. she turned to the man, tilted her head, and simply willed him to die. and he did.

she took his coat.

“don’t just stand there,” she had said, her voice light, amused, as tsuranashi stared at the lifeless body at their feet. “help me pull his boots off. they’ll fit you.”

he did as he was told.


at school, kaamu was adored.

everyone wanted to be around her. she was charming, clever, quick with a joke. she got perfect scores without trying, answered questions before the teachers finished asking them. she was the kind of girl people gravitated toward. it was her name that the students recognised to be the pair.

but no one ever asked about her home.

the children did often wonder, where did they go at night? when the bell rang, and everyone packed up their bags. when everyone was preparing to walk home, or waiting at the gates to be picked up by their parents.

where is it really,
where is it that they go?
because kaamu never volunteered any information revolving the subject, and she was the one you would ask.

what noone knew, what none of kaamus adoring fans knew, was that she and tsuranashi didn’t go home at the end of the day. they returned to whatever abandoned space they had claimed for the week—a crumbling warehouse, an empty basement, an attic of a building no one remembered. kaamu didn’t need comfort. she didn’t need soft beds or warm meals. all she needed was control.

and tsuranashi? he needed her.

but he didn’t talk about that.

as he grew older, he spoke less and less. at first, kaamu teased him for it. then, she stopped commenting altogether, accepting it as just another truth of their existence. it was easier this way.

“talking won’t change anything,” he had muttered once.

she laughed. “you’re right. noone needs to hear your voice anyway.”

he didn’t respond.


living like this for all of their lives, they realised that the hunger was always the worst part.

stealing could only get them so far. some nights, there was nothing to take. kaamu could survive without food for days, as if her abilities made her stronger, made her immune to the weakness of human flesh. but tsuranashi wasn’t like her. he felt everything.

and that was a problem, because they were connected.

kaamu had always known it. the menlial line that linked them wasn’t just flesh—it was something deeper, something inescapable. she had tested it when they were kids, slicing a blade across her palm and watching as tsuranashi flinched, clutching at his own unmarked hand, feeling the phantom sting.

pain wasn’t fair between them.

kaamu could be cut, crushed, broken—but she wouldn’t feel it. tsuranashi would.

so when she got hurt, it was tsuranashi who suffered.


he had collapsed again. the third time this week, and it was only tuesday.

kaamu heard it before she saw it—the dull thud of his knees hitting the cold concrete of the alley. when she turned, he was hunched over, his breath shallow, his fingers trembling as they clawed weakly at the ground.

“get up,” she ordered, but he didn’t move.

kaamu narrowed her eyes, stalking toward him. “i said—get up.”

still, nothing. her jaw clenched. she could slightly feel it through the menlial line—the deep, gnawing ache in his stomach, the way his limbs had gone numb from exhaustion. it wasn’t just hunger anymore. it was starvation. it didn't hurt or affect her in any way, but she could feel it draining him, and that was the issue.

she knew he wasn’t going to last much longer like this. fine. if he wasn’t going to fix it himself, she would.

she grabbed him by the back of his collar and yanked him up. his body was so light—too light. he barely had the strength to lift his head, his dull eyes flickering up to hers.

“kaamu…” his voice was barely a whisper. “i can’t. please.”

“yes, you can. you wanna kill me too?”

she reached into the shadow beside her, her fingers closing around something wet. when she pulled her hand back, the darkness followed, twisting and solidifying into the shape of a severed arm—flesh still raw, blood still dripping.

tsuranashi’s breath hitched.

he turned his head away.

kaamu grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look.

“eat.”

his lips pressed together. he shook his head, weakly.

her fingers tightened on his face. “tsuranashi. eat.”

he whimpered, a choked sound in the back of his throat. she could feel his revulsion through the menlial line, the sharp sting of nausea curling in his gut.

but it didn’t matter, because he was hers, and she refused to let him die.

and so she pressed the bloodied flesh against his lips.

“if you don’t eat,” she whispered, low and dangerous, “i’ll make you feel every part of it.”

his whole body tensed.

he knew what that meant.

he knew what her pain felt like—the sharp, tearing agony of wounds that weren’t his, the phantom echoes of broken bones, of bruised ribs, of burning flesh.

his breath shook. his eyes watered, and his stomach screamed.

but kaamu simply smiled.

“good boy,” she murmured, patting his head as he finally, finally opened his mouth.

the taste of blood filled the back of his throat, and he simply accepted it, for he didn't want to anger his sister any further.


eventually, it was inevitable, really. the way they died.

kaamu had always known their end would be violent. had always expected it. expected something.. big. something that fit who she was, but she never thought it would be so… simple. a gunshot. just that. not a very dramatic ending for such an extravagant girl.

one single shot, straight through the menlial line.

they both felt it.

kaamu gasped, a sound she had never made before. tsuranashi collapsed before she did, his body convulsing. for the first time in her life, she felt everything.

kaamu reached for him, her fingers trembling.

“tsura—”

but there was no time.
for the first time, kaamu felt weak.
for the first time, kaamu felt powerless. for the first time, kaamu felt pain.

she had never known agony. had never understood what it was like to be fragile, to have a body that could break.

but now, with a bullet lodged in the only thing that made her untouchable, she knew. it was unbearable.

she clawed at the wound, eyes wide, breath shuddering. tsuranashi lay beside her, gasping, hands weakly reaching for her—like he always did, like he always had.

kaamu had always taken from him. always let him suffer in her place.

but now? now, she felt it too.
and for the first time, she understood.

she lay next to him, staring into his eyes as her vision slowly started to blur at the edges.

"hah.. haha.. i finally get it, tsura!"

the girl sounded almost joyful. her words were barely coherent, and her brother was no longer responding.

"i feel.. alive.." she mumbled, crawling over her brother and clutching his hand as he slowly lost his grip on hers. "like i'm.. a real person. like you..."

but the second after those words left her lips, her eyes fluttered shut, and kaamu collapsed on top of him.

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Pub: 12 Mar 2025 21:19 UTC

Edit: 12 Mar 2025 21:41 UTC

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