'Three plane tickets, ' he says to the teller, the Russian easy to him but certainly unfamiliar to the other two as it floats through his ears, just two words he 's sure they recognize: 'Tokyo, Japan. '

'I feel like I 'm gonna dissolve, ' Shoko grumbles in the waiting area by the gate maybe twenty minutes later after a hellish line through security, sat next to him and little better than a rain puddle as Suguru comes back with snacks from a vending machine.

'Weird crackers, ' he mumbles, passing around small plastic bags in odd colors, 'my favorite. ' Satoru sits still in his seat between them, too straight. The muscle under his eye twitches. He doesn 't move.

'Satoru, I thought I said you weren 't allowed out, ' a Suguru that doesn 't exist says, stitches in his forehead as he leans over the back of the uncomfortable airport chairs, dark hair swaying over his shoulders and spilling along his own. 'I 'm not done committing mass genocide yet. '