disclaimer: disclaimed.
dedication: to Brand New, for being unending inspiration.
notes: I love Paku.

chapter title: untitled
summary: I wanna wrap my hands around that pretty neck and squeeze. — Exwires.

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Paku doesn't kill.

She is an afterthought, a barely-there. She is a quiet shadow. She is ghost, vapour, smoke. She is memory forgotten, left high-up on a dusty shelf in the middle of winter but then never brought back to the sunlight come spring.

She is, arguably, the most human among them.

Paku is ordinary. She is plain and powerless and human. She can only get in the way. She can only be bait. She needs to rely on the others for survival, this she knows.

She is weak.

And from that weakness, a uniquely Paku trait springs.

She can sit in the back of the classroom and listen while Yukio-sensei speaks. She can sit there, and not comprehend a word, and still try her very hardest to make things work. Paku is a fixer-upper; she can take the broken things and put them back together.

But she is not a killer.

And so when the world shudders and begins to crumble to pieces, the only thing she can do is clap her hands over her ears and shake. When the world begins to end, the only thing she can do is cling to her best friend's hand and wait it out.

It is in the waiting that she finds herself. The others look to her for calm. They look to her for sanity and for numbness; they look to her to remind themselves that there is a world beyond the fighting and the death and the blood.

Paku takes her protectors hands in hers, and smiles slowly.

They need her.

They need her.

So she breathes in, and refuses to let go even when Shiemi is past the point of panic and Izumo is trembling so hard her whole frame is vibrating. They need her.

She breathes out.

Paku doesn't kill.