Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Carry onward, never let the world hold me back…”

So far, so good. No glitches as of yet – a blessing, considering how gummy the equipment had gotten over the course of this tour. It just needed to last two more after tonight. Just two.

“If the truth stands in my way, then charge and attack!!”

He crossed his fingers. Please, please don’t fail now…

“Break through any limit keeping me from my goal…”

Yes!!

He breathed a sigh of relief. The projection crumbled just as intended. The last thing they needed was a lawsuit over a graphical glitch inducing a seizure, and even worse would be needing to deactivate a sector of the stage or even stop the show due to the projection not going down.

Next up is making…. sure…... th…..e…. fa…..n…….s…..

. . .

“Mr. President? Sir?

“Aoi-san!!”

He jolted awake and bolted around, ready to strike the assailant before realizing that he didn’t have his sword, he wasn’t in an Idolasphere, his teammates weren't in danger and he certainly wasn’t performing the Opera of Light.

He automatically raised his hands in a placating gesture against the frightened stagehand, a more common requirement than he'd care to admit these days. “I'm so sorry! I must have fallen asleep, and I startle pretty easily,” he laughed off.

The stagehand laughed nervously, approaching again. “That’s quite alright, sir. I just wanted to let you know that you’re missing the press coverage.”

The press coverage...

He snapped to attention, mortified that he’d left his friends all alone in the throng of superfans and reporters. “Ah – thank you!” he hastily called, rushing out of the premium box and stopping only once to check his suit and hair before pushing through the front doors of the theater.

The roar of fans and reporters finally reached his ears, a deafening cry that only grew louder when his presence was noticed. He scoured the red carpet left and right until he finally saw the one he was looking for at the far right end.

He quickly waded through the line of stars, many of which were his own and knew to clear a path, before he finally found his place at Yashiro Tsurugi’s side.

Yashiro gave him a cursory side glance and the corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Another one of your ‘power naps,’ Aoi?” He muttered, mouth practically unmoving as he kept a reserved smile plastered on.

Itsuki Aoi huffed a quiet breath and stood beside the star, smiling and waving on autopilot to all the fans waving various parchment out for autographs. “Listen, I don’t need to be called out like this when I’ve already called myself out just by being late,” he quietly shot back.

Yashiro shook his head minutely as he leaned forward and took the pen of a screaming fangirl into his gloved hand, signing his name on her Labyrinth of Love poster as he said, “You should know by now that I only remain signed to Fortuna purely to call you out as often as possible.”

Itsuki quietly laughed as he leaned over to sign a Fortuna Entertainment roster. “Wow, and here I thought we’d finally introduced you to the concept of friendship. Ouch.”

Yashiro chuckled back, and they continued on in silence. They only tempted fate as much as they dared, a few friendly-enough exchanged words and maybe the brush of a hand once or twice when the cameras seemed to be focused on the other stars, but neither of them seemed to be too bothered by it.

Keeping their relationship from media coverage was something they’d both agreed on, to keep it out of the public eye. Some parts of life deserved to be private, free from cameras and the intense scrutiny of fans and fellow socialites alike. Still, regardless… they were happy.

. . .

“I’m so tired…” Tsubasa Oribe whined, collapsing on the couch at the office and likely crushing the tulle of her pink dress again. “I don’t want to move from this couch for the next year.”

“The crowd was particularly rambunctious tonight,” Kiria Kurono noted, smoothing out her own short, deep purple dress before sitting down and lifting Tsubasa’s drooping head into her lap, stroking her hair softly. Tsubasa hummed contentedly and leaned into her girlfriend’s touch, curling into her side.

Itsuki chuckled, settling himself on the other end of the couch and reaching for the remote to the TV. “I hear you. If the crowds are this huge on a set of older songs, though, imagine the turnout for the new big number at the last show. It’s going to be wild.”

Touma Akagi skipped the couch entirely, opting to plaster himself facedown to the cool floor in an attempt to stifle the blistering summer heat. It seemed almost as if he was still catching his breath a little despite the fact that his last show had been many hours ago. “C’mon, man… don’t even make me think about another show right now. I think I pulled a muscle during that Ouga showcase in Fukushima the other day.”

Eleonora Yumizuru kneeled on the ground and reached around her voluminous green skirts to boop Touma on the nose. “I'd say you should be lucky Ouga's become more of a mentor to the new generation at this point. If you were still doing all the flips and stunts you were five years ago, you wouldn't be able to move, I'd bet - and that’s because you didn’t stretch when I told you to. A Hollywood-worthy actor needs to stretch before doing their own stunts, dummy, and that goes double for you.”

“Hollywood actors don’t usually do their own stunts,” Touma groaned.

“Not important,” Ellie warned. Itsuki could see the small fire beginning to spark in her eyes, and luckily, so did Touma; he knew better than to piss her off and quickly shut his mouth.

Still, though, her expression softened a little as she permitted an almost weary smile. "Either way... knowing you, I doubt it would have mattered too much whether you warmed up or not. You'd probably find some other way to screw yourself up if it made those kids smile the same way. I've almost missed your recklessness, being stateside so often."

"All in a day's work," Touma proudly proclaimed, propping himself up on his elbows and smiling determinedly up at her despite his exhaustion.

Mamori Minamoto stretched her arms high and laid down in the open space at the corner of the couch, her eyes already beginning to droop. The long sleeves of her golden kimono pooled on the ground. “Today was so much fun, everyone…”

Itsuki smiled and lightly ruffled her hair like she was an endearing younger sister, even though she’d grown quite a bit since joining Fortuna. “Don’t worry – Barry should be here to pick you up soon.”

Mamori didn’t answer; she was already fast asleep, the day’s events having worn her out.

Chuckling, Itsuki turned on the TV and flicked through a couple of channels at low volume until a familiar face caught his eye.

“Looks like Maiko and Horinozawa have launched their comeback ads,” he commented.

Tsubasa’s eyes snapped open and she lifted her head from Kiria’s lap to see. “Really? Wow, she looks so beautiful!”

Yashiro took a seat next to Itsuki, careful to mind Mamori's sleeping form and give her proper space, and studied the TV with a look of appraisal. “Yes, she does look very radiant. You can tell she’s aged from her original My Complex photos, but it doesn’t detract from her beauty in the slightest.”

Ellie looked up from her position on the floor and smiled at the photos. “Hey, she took my advice and cut her hair short. It suits her really well.”

Itsuki’s phone suddenly pinged with a couple of incoming messages. He picks it up and almost laughs at the timing.

-DIRECT IM: MAIKO SHIMAZAKI-

Maiko Shimazaki: Heyyyy! Long time, no see! I’m sorry, I really did mean to at least text you all sometime… things just got really busy with all the publicity prep. Oh, right – I don’t know if you guys have seen the ad yet, but Nobu and I have finally announced the new album!! I’m really excited to see how the people will like it.

Maiko Shimazaki: Speaking of, I was wondering if you all wanted to come to a pool party I wanted to throw to celebrate the release this weekend; we have the ingredients to try grilling some American-style summer foods, just for the hell of it. I have spare bedrooms if anyone gets a little too tipsy, or someone misses the last train or something. I know you’re all really busy with the tour (congrats on that, by the way!) but the party can totally be moved to fit your schedules if you need. And don’t worry, it won’t be all drinking and partying; I know you’d really hate that, Itsuki. I was also hoping to discuss a deal with you about getting Fortuna’s official endorsement on the album. Just give me a ring whenever you have an answer!

Itsuki looked up from his phone. “Hey, everyone? We have nothing planned for the afternoon or evening tomorrow, do we?”

“Shouldn’t you of all people know?” Touma retorted with a smirk.

“Peace, Touma.” Kiria smiled, coming to Itsuki’s defense. “Itsuki already does so much for us.”

“There's another Ouga showcase bright and early at eleven, this time with Dr. Schraube making a grand reappearance after his so-thought demise,” Ellie answered, punctuated by a tired groan from Touma - though, his smile betrayed his inner excitement at the prospect. “Then at noon Tsubasa and I run Dream Catcher, at 12:30 Mamori runs Raindrop Memories and at one Kiria runs Labyrinth to finish off Nostalgia Week and this leg of the tour. We should be packed up and done by 1:30 at the latest.”

“Great,” Itsuki replied. “Maiko just texted me. We’re invited to a party at her place tomorrow afternoon to celebrate the release of her new album. Does anybody have something pressing they need to be at on Sunday morning?”

“Not that I know of,” Tsubasa yawned. As Itsuki scanned the room, no one else seemed to raise an objection.

“Then we can stay as long as we want. It’ll be the perfect break – and since we’ll only be one show away from tour closure it can celebrate the end of another successful tour.”

“I’m down,” Touma voted.

“It’ll be nice to see Ms. Maiko again!” Tsubasa cheered.

“I’ll go as well.” Kiria’s reserved smile widened.

“I have nothing better to do,” Ellie hedged, though Itsuki could see her excitement bubbling beneath her prideful exterior. "I've gotta make the most out of this last month before I have to fly back, after all."

“It will be a nice reprieve from the exhausting tour,” Yashiro indulged. “As long as you’ll be there, Itsuki.”

Itsuki sighed, letting his head droop to the couch. “I have so much work to do, Yashiro. I really can’t afford to waste an entire afternoon and evening.”

Yashiro’s gaze sharpened, almost in an unspoken warning. “Yes, you can. I can’t remember the last time you’ve had a day off, and we can all see it’s taking a toll on you.”

“I’m fine,” Itsuki tried to insist. “I’m just a little worn out. This happens every time someone's touring.”

“If you don’t go, I’ll tell Maiko you’re overworking yourself. You’ll never hear the end of it.”

Itsuki crossed his arms and tried to fix his boyfriend with a cold stare, but Yashiro’s stare was leagues colder.

Before Itsuki could answer, though, the frosted glass doors slid open and Barry Goodman shuffled inside looking like a zombie. “Too many fans…” he whined. “The last time I was caught in such a stampede was when Dia Witch Shizuka came out on DVD as a special feature… and Dia Witch Shizuka was a crappy cash-grab of a spinoff!”

Touma peeled himself from the floor and stumbled his way through sore muscles and bruises from practice to pat Barry on the back. “The people love to see Barry Goodman make a comeback. You a little rusty on the fanservice, old man?”

Barry smiled challengingly and nudged Touma a little too hard. “Rusty? You wish, rookie. Getting back into songwriting was the best choice I've made in a long time.”

"I bet you'd get even more of a following back if you actually started playing again," Ellie playfully prodded, leaning against the couch's armrest. "You know there's people out there who'd love to see it."

Barry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah - you're pushing your luck there, Blondie. I doubt anyone really wants to see what happens when this old dog tries to learn new tricks." If he was bothered by the notion, he didn't show it, crossing his arms with a smile. "Right now, I'm perfectly fine being behind the curtain supporting today's young movers and shakers." As he paused, he surveyed the room and spotted Mamori asleep on the couch, deflating a little in the face of the added exercise after an already-long and strenuous night. “Speaking of... it looks like I’ll be getting an extra workout on the way home.”

As Barry crossed the room to pick up Mamori’s sleeping form, Itsuki stopped him just short. “I know Mamori will want to go, but after tomorrow’s tour events, Maiko’s invited us to her place for a pool party to celebrate the release of her new album with Horinozawa. Are you in?”

“Hell yeah! I haven’t seen Maiko since she turned the company over to you… this must have been what she’s been up to all this time. I’m down!” Finally, he reached down and picked up Mamori, carrying her securely toward the door. “We’ll be back at the office bright and early tomorrow so we can get a good look at what the set list looks like. G’night, everyone!”

A chorus of goodnights followed Barry out the door as he carried Mamori out, likely to his car.

Car…

A thought dawned on Itsuki. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost one in the morning,” Tsubasa replied. “The trains are done running for the night, so those of you who live out-of-city are stuck here for now." She looked up toward Kiria. "Or, well... most of you. Kiri, you gonna ride home or stay?”

"I'll gladly spend the night with you, Tsubasa," she replied warmly. "I doubt I'll truly feel like I'm back home unless I'm with you, after all."

A surprised squeak escaped Tsubasa in reaction, blushing madly as she grew flustered at Kiria's admission, and Itsuki chuckled lightly.

“I figured we would probably end up going that late," Ellie sighed. "So much for getting back home immediately after being gone for so long. Touma, it cool if I crash on your couch tonight?” she asked.

“Of course," Touma confirmed. "It's not like I'm not used to it, after all. We might as well engrave your name into that couch."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't refute him.

“I'm glad we'll be able to sleep in our own bed tonight, after touring around for so long,” Yashiro said to Itsuki. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to have a relaxing night to ourselves, with our schedules being so packed.”

Itsuki nodded, the sentiment ringing true especially after so many hotels where they slept in separate rooms to avoid the chance of a stray photographer catching them entering the same hotel room, but guilt started to take residence in his mind; he was hoping to pull another all-nighter tonight, and now he doubted he’d be allowed to with Yashiro’s close eye watching him. “Definitely," was all he said to Yashiro's remark for now, since he really was grateful that they would be home again. "We should all break camp for today. I’ll let Maiko know we’re all coming. Maybe she’ll even want to meet with us earlier to see the tour events.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Tsubasa let out another big yawn, then shambled to her feet. “Going home. Good night, everyone…”

Kiria laughed endearingly, gently stopping Tsubasa from drifting out the door. "Don't forget your helmet, love - we have to get my bike back to your place, and like hell am I letting you on without it."

The thought dimly registered in Tsubasa's tired brain, and she nodded, turning around. "Right, right..." Almost absent-mindedly she opened the door that had formerly led to the Bloom Palace; it still felt incredibly strange for Itsuki to see a plain storage closet where it once stood when the door swung open, and Tsubasa quickly located her backup motorcycle helmet. She kept the dazzling pink helm in the office closet regularly, as the number of motorcycle riders in the office was steadily growing and it was nice to be prepared if Tsubasa found herself tagging along with one of those riders on a whim.

As Tsubasa returned to Kiria, who picked up her own motorcycle helmet from the table by the front doors, they both waved, and Tsubasa sleepily said, "See you guys tomorrow..."

Following their departure, everyone exchanged goodnights and went their separate ways until only Itsuki and Yashiro remained in the office.

Finally, Yashiro’s icy exterior began to melt, and he smiled at Itsuki. “Well, shall we?”

Itsuki sighed and stood. “You go on without me. There should still be some nonperishable food left in the kitchen if you’re hungry - we can restock the fridge tomorrow. I still have some paperwork to fill out and file.”

He tried to step toward his desk, but a firm hand stopped him in his tracks.

“No,” was all Yashiro said.

Itsuki nearly scoffed, a hint of an amused smile crossing his features. “No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.”

Yashiro’s brow creased in worry. “Itsuki, you’re tired. I can see the bags under your eyes no matter how hard you try to hide them, and the others are just as worried about you as I am.”

“Yashiro, I am fine,” Itsuki tried to brush off. “I’ve just had a lot of work to do, is all.”

“Bullshit. Last night I saw you read the same document four times within thirty minutes. You’re trying to find more work to do, especially when night falls. That’s not healthy.”

“I really do have work to do! I have gigs to schedule, contracts to negotiate, advertising to set up – this job isn’t easy.”

“When was the last time you slept more than 6 hours?”

“C’mon, I sleep. Would I really be coherent if I didn’t?”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“Yashiro—”

“No.” Yashiro’s steely adamance stunned Itsuki into silence. Once he was sure Itsuki wouldn’t interrupt him again, Yashiro continued. “Something is wrong, Itsuki. There must be something you’re trying to avoid if you’re creating so much work for yourself.” Yashiro’s voice softens as he takes Itsuki’s hands in his own. “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me. We may be rivals, but more importantly, we’re partners. Please tell me how I can help you.”

Itsuki looks down at the ground, grip tightening on Yashiro’s hands. When he looks back up again, he smiles, but that smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m okay, Yashiro. Thanks for worrying about me, but there’s nothing you can do.”

“‘I’m okay’ and ‘there’s nothing you can do’ have two different meanings.”

“Fine.” Itsuki raised his hands in a tired surrender. “You know what? You win. I will go home with you. But if I fall behind on my paperwork, just remember that it’s because you wouldn’t let me work tonight.”

Yashiro smiled. “I can accept that.”

Despite himself, Itsuki sighed, his smile growing a touch more genuine as he interlaced his fingers with Yashiro’s.

“I love you,” Yashiro continued. “I truly want you to tell me if there’s something wrong. Even if you think there’s nothing I can do to help, I’ll stand by you and provide comfort. I will gladly find a way to make things better for you, even when you think there's no way to do so.”

Itsuki chuckles. “Thanks, Yashiro. I love you too.”

Yashiro plants a short kiss on Itsuki’s lips, then grabs him by the wrist and practically drags him out of the office, stopping just long enough to let Itsuki lock up.

--DIRECT IM: MAIKO SHIMAZAKI--

Itsuki Aoi: Hey, Maiko - we’re all going to be accounted for at your party. We have a tour showing at the theater on Central Street until around 1:30 depending on how wild the crowds are, and then we’ll head straight to your house. Let me know if you want tickets, I can wire some to you. Congrats on the album – looking forward to talking about this deal you want to make.

Chapter Text

The jangle of his keychain was almost deafening to Itsuki as he attempted to unlock the door to his apartment and get back inside without waking Yashiro. He’d lost precious hours of work time to getting Yashiro to fall asleep, and in the process had almost fallen asleep himself – which would have been catastrophic. Then it had been agony trying to get out of the house without waking him, as he’d always been a light sleeper.

And now, on top of everything – it started raining, so Itsuki’s shoulder was acting up again. The networking scars from the near-fatal blow he'd sustained from Medeus stung a little beneath the fabric of his dress shirt, which was progressively becoming soaked through with the thick raindrops that fell, and the change in air pressure whenever it rained was enough to cause an annoying stiffness in the joint, an ache just deep enough to keep him from making great use of it without making it worse.

He tried to ignore the hellfire in his chest and shoulder as the lock clicked and he pushed open the door slowly. The lights were still off; that was a good sign that Yashiro hadn’t stirred yet. Maybe Itsuki really had pulled this off.

With a renewed vigor he shut the door just as carefully and checked the clock.

6 AM. That was an acceptable time to wake up when you didn’t have to be anywhere until 11, right?

…Well, it wouldn’t be too hard to convince anybody of being a habitual early riser - especially with his hard-working reputation as it was.

Itsuki made a quick stop at the medicine cabinet to break into the painkillers he'd been prescribed to help with his shoulder on bad days; then, he set off to the kitchen to make a nice breakfast in the hopes that Yashiro would notice the romantic gesture and not the bags under his eyes.

Not long after the fish had started sizzling in the pan, Itsuki heard movement in the bedroom, and Yashiro walked out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Good morning,” Itsuki called, and the sight of his beloved made certain that his smile was genuine.

Yashiro lightly smiled back. “Morning indeed. How long have you been up?”

“Not long.” The lie passed through Itsuki’s lips like second nature. “I thought I’d have breakfast ready for you by the time you woke up... I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright,” Yashiro replied sleepily as he walked into the small kitchen and wrapped his arms around Itsuki. He rested his bed-head on Itsuki’s shoulder. “That’s very sweet of you.”

Itsuki leaned his head against that of his boyfriend’s and relief flooded him. Yashiro was too tired to question his early rise very intensely. Hopefully questions wouldn’t arise later.

As Itsuki continued making sure everything was cooked to perfection, Yashiro continued to cling to him, and he slowly let his guard down. Casting an amused glance toward him, Itsuki said, “You do realize that this only further proves to me how touch-starved you are, right?”

A low chuckle, followed by Yashiro’s arms tightening around Itsuki’s waist. “They’d never believe you.”

“So you admit it?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Itsuki shook his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“I love you too.”

. . .

“Uncle Barry, I’m gonna get you!”

“Nooo! Felled with a fatal splash by the great Mamorin!”

“Ack! Touma, don’t you dare!”

“That’s just gonna make me want to splash you more, Tsubasa!”

......

“Itsuki? Itsuki…

CLAP!

“Itsuki!”

Itsuki shook out of his daze. The water was still very much present, and it only served to remind him just how badly he should have protested coming with the others. Almost everyone was in the pool; Mamori, Touma, Ellie and Barry were engaged in a very intense splash fight and Kiria half-participated by swishing her legs while sitting on the edge of the pool. Tsubasa sat across the pool from Itsuki, lounging beneath a beach parasol and protesting at Touma’s wayward splashes toward her, and Yashiro was somewhere in the house searching for the sunscreen he'd brought.

“Are you okay?” Maiko sat down on Itsuki’s lounge chair with a concerned expression lining her features, tucking a strand of her shoulder-length wavy hair behind her ear. “You haven’t seemed yourself since you got here.”

“I’m fine.” The response exited his mouth before he could think to say something else. “Just thinking about work. There’s a lot to do at the office - the others kind of had to heckle me into coming here.”

“Ah, working on convincing a big investor to fund a project or something?” Maiko asked, and to avoid suspicion Itsuki nodded. There was no such investor or project to speak of – his high stress would look strange if Itsuki said otherwise, though. There weren't a lot of tasks in his position that would warrant his very obvious sleep deprivation or anxiety; not one he could fool someone who'd done his job before into believing, anyway.

Maiko looked him up and down, taking in his closed white button-up cuffed at the elbow and cargo shorts. “Are you going to swim in that?”

“No, I’m not going to swim at all. I’d much rather be up here on dry land.”

Maiko’s brow knit together, but Itsuki could tell it was in a teasing way when she smiled. “What, do you have a personal grudge with the water?”

Itsuki couldn’t find an answer that wouldn’t draw concern towards him, but then Maiko laughed.

“I’m just joking. I get it if you’re not the biggest fan of swimming. I don’t swim very often myself – bad experiences in the ocean and a weird relationship with water in general.”

“Isn’t this your pool?”

“Kind of,” Maiko sighed. “Nobu insisted we have a pool – it’s a part of his exercise regimen. I’m starting to use it more, since I admit it’s nice to have and I do still love to swim, but swimming has never really been a good idea for me until I tried swimming in a pool; it’s a long story.”

Itsuki chuckled. “So you and Mr. Horinozawa have finally stopped beating around the bush, then?”

She lightly smacked his leg with a mock-appalled expression. “I don’t know what kind of crazy thoughts you’ve got in your head, but Nobu and I are strictly professional – we simply can’t afford any romance in our industry.”

“So… you’re friends with benefits, then?”

“Absolutely not!” Maiko’s words vehemently refuted the claim, but her face burned a bright red that betrayed the real answer.

“Sure,” Itsuki teased.

Yashiro emerged from inside the house and settled into the lounge chair next to Itsuki's, both beneath the large patio umbrella that stood between the two chairs. “Hello, Shimazaki-san. It’s nice to see you.”

Maiko’s eyebrows shot upward. “Wow, a pleasantry from the Ice King of Entertainment? Your boyfriend must be melting that frozen heart of yours.”

Yashiro stole a glance at Itsuki, then looked away from both of them. However, he did allow the slightest hint of a smile as he said, “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yashirooooo!” Ellie called. “Get in the water with us!”

Attention diverted to the sunkissed blonde waist-deep in the water, Yashiro raised an eyebrow. “And burn in the sun? Why should I?”

“Because it’s fun!”

“Maybe for you.”

Ellie sighed. “If you want to lounge around, I brought you a lounge floatie. It's got a slot to put a parasol in and it's yours to relax on.”

Yashiro’s eyes lit up a little, and Itsuki’s heart swelled at watching the inner child flourish in his boyfriend.

“I’ll consider it,” Yashiro deflected slightly, and both Itsuki and Ellie could hear the resounding ‘yes’ in his tone.

Ellie laughed and snagged the lump of plastic that would become a lounge chair, throwing it in Yashiro’s direction. It fluttered in the air and ultimately landed not 4 feet from its starting position, on the right side of the pool. “You’ll have to blow it up.”

Yashiro rolled his two-toned eyes and pressed a chaste kiss to Itsuki’s cheek before getting up to sit on the edge of the pool. He dangled his legs in the water, pale skin almost glowing in the sunlight as he started blowing up the lounge.

Maiko turned on her heel and settled in the lounge chair Yashiro had abandoned.

“So,” Itsuki began, “you mentioned making a deal with Fortuna related to your new album.”

“Ah, I knew that the deal would be your ulterior motive for coming, especially if the others had to drag you here,” Maiko wistfully replied. “So, let’s discuss. I want Fortuna’s endorsement and partial funding for another album trilogy.”

“Well, what’s in it for us?”

. . .

“Still no?”

“There’s still no considerable benefit for Fortuna.”

“C’mon, we’ve been discussing this for hours… will anything be good for you?”

The sun was setting, but the gradient of pinks and blues and purples barely registered in Itsuki’s brain. He was far too engrossed in the discussion of the deal with Maiko, enough so that he almost hadn’t noticed that hours had passed with his companions long-spent from their fun in the sun and now roasting marshmallows in Maiko’s fire pit.

“Well,” Itsuki sighed, “there is one thing that would be acceptable for me.”

A plate of something entered Itsuki’s vision on the table and he instinctively pushed it away.

Yashiro pushed it back. “Aoi, eat.”

“I’m busy.”

“Eat.”

Itsuki sighed, knowing he’d only be met with a scathing look if he tried to stare Yashiro down. Then, his stomach growled – when did that start happening today?

He grabbed the hot dog off the plate and took a quick bite out of it, glad that Yashiro had at least added the toppings that he liked.

Itsuki finally dared a glance at Yashiro. “Happy?”

“No.”

Itsuki rested his head on a hand. “I’ll eat it. I just eat slowly.” Returning his attention to Maiko, he said, “Anyway, I think you know the condition I have for our endorsement.”

Maiko tittered as she sipped her martini. “I don't see returning to Fortuna being in the cards for me.”

“I still don’t understand why you don't want this, Maiko.” Itsuki took another bite of his food, and only then did Yashiro relax as he sat somewhere between the others and where Itsuki and Maiko were sitting. “This deal is only benefits for you. Why not take it?”

Maiko’s smile grew reminiscent as she stirred the toothpick-skewered olive in her drink. “I wouldn't say it's all benefits, kid. I want my projects and other jobs to be managed on my own time and terms, not somebody else’s. You know I don’t like to talk about my age, but I think we both know that by modeling standards I’m close to entering my sunset years. Being a member of Fortuna shunts me into taking only the jobs you pick out for me, that I can only do at certain times and in certain ways. It’s already hard enough for me to get a gig that Nobu doesn’t oversee; if magazine reps have to go through you to get to me, then no one will ever bother when they can get young models like Tsubasa or Ellie. Coming back to Fortuna will only hurt in the long run because a modeling company will always go for the younger models first.”

The cogs in Itsuki’s brain began to turn, thinking over this dilemma. “You’re not wrong…”

He thinks it over for a few minutes. Whenever Yashiro sends Itsuki a pointed look, he remembers to take a bite of the hot dog.

Finally, Itsuki looks up at Maiko with an idea. “What about a loose partnership, rather than becoming a full-fledged employee? You would technically be considered a model of Fortuna, but you would still pick out your own jobs, your own hours – you would have access to any of Fortuna’s money and contacts that were made after your resignation to get and fund jobs or marketing even easier.”

Maiko’s eyebrows raised, but she didn’t look extremely surprised. “Not entirely unexpected from your top-notch business sense, Itsuki. That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“So you’ll take the offer?”

“Just to be clear, I can back out if this doesn’t turn out like I’d hoped?”

“Yes. At least give it a try. If you decide it isn’t for you and you back out, you’ll still have our support on the current trilogy.”

Maiko’s signature determined stare graced her features, and finally she extended a hand. “That sounds like a good deal to me.”

Itsuki shook her outstretched hand. “Welcome back to the team, Maiko. Things might not be quite as exciting at the office these days, but you’ll certainly be welcomed with open arms.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Itsuki and Maiko finally joined the others at the fire pit. The night was spent with everyone telling old and new stories alike among smores and laughter. By the time anyone finally had a sense of what time it was, the moon was well into the sky.

“Guys, it’s twelve,” Kiria noted. “The trains have stopped for the night.”

Maiko, at this point completely drunk, raised her arms high. “Guess that means you’re all staying with meeeeeee!”

Itsuki shook his head. “I can tell you’re going to be no help in telling us where the spare rooms are.”

“I saw them when I was searching for sunscreen earlier,” Yashiro interjected. “I think I remember where they were.”

“Then let’s sleep,” Ellie said with a yawn. “This was the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

“Me too, Ellie,” Itsuki sighed, standing. “Me too.”

And he was telling the truth - being able to have even part of a day where he turned his brain off and spent time with his friends felt like more than he could ever hope for, these days. As guest rooms were sorted out and Itsuki retired to the one he'd be sharing with Yashiro, though, a looming dread began to settle within him, knowing that with the trains out and no access to any of his work resources tonight, there was nowhere to hide any longer.

Now, the only thing Itsuki hoped for was that he'd manage to stay awake and keep the horrors at bay.

Chapter Text

BOOM.

The pain was debilitating. He could hardly hear or feel crashing to the ground, barely registered Tsubasa offering her knees as a pillow for his head or Yashiro’s desperate gaze as he crowded in.

“ITSUKI!!”

Yashiro was calling out to him, but Itsuki couldn’t hear his words. Then, his despairing face faded into darkness.

Then Itsuki couldn’t breathe.

He was trapped in a deep ocean so dark it was nearly black. No matter how much he thrashed, he wouldn’t move. He couldn’t get a breath of fresh air, and the surface was so far out of reach, barely in the distance. His right arm remained limp even in his attempts to swim, pain radiating from shoulder to fingertip.

Then the voices started.

“Itsuki’s guidance is nice and all, but…” Mamori’s gentle voice, 5 years younger, echoed on and on. “Sometimes I wish he would understand I’m just a child. I can’t keep up with him and his pace when he has his mind set to something.”

Pain lanced deep through Itsuki’s heart and panic spasmed in his lungs. He thrashed faster and faster.

“Itsuki’s so clueless sometimes. I wish it didn’t take him weeks to realize what someone’s problem is.” Ellie.

“Is Itsuki really fit to lead?” Kiria. “He honestly has no clue what he’s doing, and some of us have five years of experience on him.”

“I appreciate how Itsuki listens when we talk about the things we've gone through, but how can he help us if he doesn't understand them personally?” Touma. "I get he's trying his best, and I sure as hell wouldn't wish any of my baggage on him, but it's hard to take his advice to heart when he can't relate."

“He didn’t even care that Ayaha had disappeared, even when we didn’t think she’d be back.” Tsubasa’s voice was thick with tears. “He just went on like nothing was wrong, and I hate him for it.”

But Yashiro... Yashiro was what really hurt.

“Itsuki… Aoi? I’ve never heard that name in my life. Don’t waste my time if it doesn't pertain to my work.”

An anguished scream involuntarily tore from Itsuki’s throat as he could no longer take the pain of his lungs contracting, begging for oxygen. His vision started to go black again, this time for good.

But then something strange happened.

The environment lightened into a brighter color, as if day had suddenly broken over the endless sea. There was no sea floor; Itsuki was suspended in the center of an unbroken watery expanse.

On instinct he sucked in a breath as his lungs could take no more.

A figure of light started to manifest in front of Itsuki. It sharpened into something humanoid, a leaner masculine frame, with a swoop of hair on the right side of his head and sharp angles of clothing that seemed like armor.

“Hello…?”

Itsuki hardly noticed – his only objective was to get out of the water as soon as possible. It was going to swallow him up and kill him. He still couldn’t move.

The figure put its hands up in a placating gesture. He had stopped forming halfway, the light wavering and flickering as if it were an effort to even stay in that form, and as such Itsuki couldn't have seen any defining details of his appearance even if he had been focusing on them.

“Wait, please!”

Itsuki cried out in fear again, not listening. But before anything else could happen, his vision snapped to black.

. . .

“Itsuki!!”

Itsuki’s eyes snapped open, and his right arm swung towards the assailant. Lightning-fast reflexes caught his arm and held it gently but firmly.

Itsuki began to thrash and back away from the intruder, causing an arc of pain to start screaming up his injured shoulder, but it was only then that he realized that Yashiro wasn’t beside him in bed. His impression in the mattress was still warm, and when he finally looked up at the so-thought intruder, Yashiro’s terrified gray-and-blue eyes dimly glinted in the moonlight.

“Itsuki…” Yashiro released Itsuki’s arm and sat down on his side of the bed. “You were yelling and thrashing in your sleep.”

Itsuki swallowed, his throat feeling almost raw. It took him forever to muster out a hoarse “W-Was I?”

Yashiro was the opposite of amused. “You’ve been off for weeks. For a while I made myself assume it was tour stress, but I can’t ignore this any longer - you've never turned away when I've been in states like this. You have to tell me what’s wrong right now. No skirting the topic or refusing.”

Itsuki shivered; he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He avoided Yashiro’s gaze, unable to vocalize what he’d just gone through.

Yashiro’s gaze softened, seeing his boyfriend’s vulnerable expression. “Whatever it is, it must be quite serious… nothing’s ever rattled you this hard. You can take as long as you need to find the words. I’ll wait.”

Itsuki shakily nodded.

They spent a few minutes in silence. Itsuki occasionally snuck glances at Yashiro, and while he could only see the actor’s eyes, they were filled with the deepest caring and patience Itsuki had ever seen.

Even seeing Itsuki at his worst, Yashiro was ready and willing to help him through it. That was one of the hallmarks that showed him Yashiro truly loved him with every ounce of his being, and Itsuki loved it when that facet of the swordmaster’s personality showed itself.

Eventually, though, when he couldn't seem to stop his heart from racing, Itsuki shook his head. “I-I can’t. I need to calm down first. Talk to me? I don’t care what it’s about. I just want to hear your voice.”

Yashiro made an affirming noise, then after a few beats of silence said, “Have I ever told you when I first realized I was in love with you?”

“I don't think so.”

He chuckled. “Well, the timeline is a little fuzzy for me as well, but I’m fairly certain it was around the time when I’d passed out in front of Café Seiren from starvation. You remember - I’d lined up a number of critically important roles and concerts in a row, we had all been running ourselves ragged as it was searching for the rest of Tiki's Dragonstone and I was sacrificing sleep and food to make it all happen. You brought me back to the same apartment we live in now, practically empty and oppressive then, and when I woke up that evening you wouldn’t leave my side." His smile widened as he stifled another bout of soft laughter. "I nearly pushed you out of a window in blind anger and still you wouldn't give me a moment's peace until you found something I could stomach out of what little food you had. Then, you heard me out when I discussed my struggles with the Microwavin’ appearance, and you didn’t laugh at my absurd problem or my request when I asked if you could show me how to describe the food I'd be presented with. You just helped with little question. That night after I left was when the first petals emerged. I assume they’d been germinating for a while.”

Itsuki managed to crack a weak smile. “I couldn’t just leave you there. You know I’m super dense when it comes to these things, so I never even had a romantic motive. Once you eventually asked to stay with me until you could buy your own place without your inherited money, it was kind of a blessing when you started spitting whole flowers in front of me. I don't think I ever would have known, otherwise.”

A thin, dark eyebrow raised as Yashiro huffed in amusement. "It was a blessing when you misspoke and I thought you had rejected me, so full bloom started to rear its head?"

Itsuki's embarrassed blush was visible to Yashiro even in the dim moonlight. "H-Hey, we don't need to talk about how we got there... it turned out alright in the end, didn't it? I fixed my wording and it turned into root expulsion because I was telling the truth. I just... hadn't realized my own feelings until then."

"I'm surprised it took that long for you to witness an episode," Yashiro admitted. "I knew it was only a matter of time, having to live in such close quarters with you, but I didn't know anyone else in the group quite as well at that time, and certainly not well enough to ask for shelter when I had nowhere else to go. I wasn't sure if you would even take me in when I cut myself off from my family - I hadn't talked to you about my father yet, and it doesn't exactly strike someone as a need when a reportedly-rich actor can't afford a home of his own."

"I never would have turned you away," Itsuki reassured. "It wouldn't have mattered why you came for help - you're my friend, and clearly much more, even if I didn't know it back then."

"Sometimes I wonder if you're too kind for your own good," Yashiro teased. "I thank you, though. If you hadn't taken me in, you never would have discovered my feelings, and I very well may have died before we fought Medeus."

"It probably could have gone a little better in execution, though," Itsuki said. "Those roots almost killed you coming out."

Yashiro nodded. "Don't remind me... my publicist practically tore her hair out trying to cover up my absence while I was hospitalized. Once we were sure I would live, she was horrified when there was a definite possibility my vocal range would be affected by the damage done to my throat," Yashiro reminisced, an amused smile on his face as though the events he was discussing were fond, happy memories rather than the terrifying experiences they were. "She seemed almost happy to be relieved of the trouble when I finished the transfer to Fortuna and let her go with a nice pension."

"Yeah, I feel bad for giving Miura-san such a heart attack..." Itsuki sighed. "I'm glad it turned out not to be a worry, though - healing you up in the Idolasphere after you forced your way back into the fray with us worked wonders, and your voice still sounds almost good as new."

"And what luck that was. That likely would have become a career-ending injury had we waited for it to heal in the real world." Yashiro chuckled. "I still think she may be wary of working with the both of us on future projects, though."

"I tried to send her a gift of goodwill after all the dust was settled, about three years ago," Itsuki replied. "I bought her the nicest flowers they offered at Rafflesia-"

The laugh Yashiro had been trying to hold back finally escaped as Itsuki realized his mistake. "Very tasteful," the singer teased.

The minutes blurred together as Itsuki and Yashiro talked about everything and nothing at the same time. Itsuki couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so whole.

Conversation was starting to die down and the sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Itsuki finally said, “Does anything that happened with the Idolaspheres ever haunt you?”

Yashiro made a thinking noise, but it wasn’t long until he replied, “Not as often as it used to. Many of mine were about almost losing you to Medeus, and once it was cemented in my head that you weren’t going anywhere after the first year or so, those quieted. I still occasionally think about some of the other jarring events like Tiki’s sacrifice, the hospitalizations in the fight's aftermath and how abruptly Navarre disappeared, however.”

Itsuki sighed. “Well… I’ve been having dreams reliving what Medeus put me through when he struck me. I haven’t told anyone this before, but he sent me into this strange shadow-realm place – I don’t know what it was called and I never want to know. All I do know is that I was in the center of an endless ocean so dark it was almost black. I couldn’t swim up for air and I couldn’t breathe, so I was left to fight a losing battle for air. I couldn't even use my right arm to swim, which makes sense in hindsight - that's what got messed up when he struck me. Eventually I lost consciousness, and I could feel myself slipping away before Marth's soul brought me back to life.”

Yashiro’s eyes had widened in horror at Itsuki’s description. “That’s… I couldn’t imagine.”

“It felt… especially strange. I’ve always been able to hold my breath for almost inhumanly long in the water, but I still keep in mind that I can’t breathe and have to come up for air sometime. That place always feels like I’d just learned I couldn’t breathe underwater, for some reason. It’s more frightening than it should be. And if that weren’t enough, in the dream the water is filled with all of your voices complaining about me. Pointing out all of my faults, wishing you’d never met me. Your voice hurts the most; instead of pointing out a flaw, you don’t know who I am. You’ve had your hanahaki removed and you don’t remember me at all.”

A horrified breath left Yashiro’s lungs, and he leaned forward and wrapped Itsuki in a gentle hug.

“Don’t you ever think that would be true,” Yashiro stressed. “That was never even a possibility in my mind... I’d give up every last ounce of my Performa and be damned to hell by Medeus if it meant I could stay with you forever." He was silent for a beat. "I’m sure that whatever the others say about you in your dream is false, too; you are the rock that holds Fortuna together, no matter what your mind might be trying to tell you that would make you believe otherwise. However - that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help with your problems when you need it. Please come to me with anything you need, even if you can’t bring it up with the others.”

Itsuki’s hold grew tighter on his boyfriend’s like a lifeline. “…I will. I promise you. I’m sorry I’ve kept this from you for so long, I just… didn’t want to burden anyone. I’ve been having this same dream for the last 5 years. At first it only showed up every once in a while, but as the years passed and the responsibilities piled up now that we were really focusing on being a talent agency, it started cropping up more and more. A little after the tour started, it was starting to come to me every night. I started to avoid sleeping just so I wouldn’t have any more on my plate, started finding extra work to do to keep me awake and occupied. That's why I've been falling asleep all the time during the day. Tonight is the first night I’ve properly slept in months, and I fully intended to just spend the night awake in bed if I could have.”

Yashiro released Itsuki and held him at arm’s length. All of a sudden he seemed unsure of himself, avoiding Itsuki’s gaze for a few beats, before returning the gaze with a renewed determination.

“I was going to wait until the right time to plan a grand affair, but I’ve never felt so sure of anything in my life,” he said with a nervous undertone.

“What do you mean?” Itsuki chuckled uneasily. Yashiro might have been a lot of unexpected things behind closed doors, but he was never nervous.

Then, in the near-pitch-darkness of Maiko’s guest room where Itsuki could hardly see him in the first place, with miniscule undertones of the sun peeking through the full-wall window, Yashiro Tsurugi retrieved a small item from his suit jacket pocket hanging on the coat rack, took Itsuki Aoi’s left hand and lowered to one knee.

The promise ring glinted in the low moon and sunlight, appearing to be a polished silver band with a sapphire and a black diamond swirled in a yin-yang formation in the center. There weren’t any other embellishments; it was simple and it was so very him.

“I know we can’t get a marriage legally recognized in Japan,” he started, “but the ring will still mean the same thing. We can even stage a ceremony with everyone, if you wanted; apply for one of those partnership certificates. Maybe someday, we could travel to a place where we could marry and make it legal in other countries, if this isn’t enough for you. A-And If you don’t want it, that’s fine too—”

Itsuki placed a finger on Yashiro’s lips, quieting him.

“You’re very adorable when you’re a stuttering mess,” Itsuki said, “but I would have to be brainwashed to refuse you. You’re the love of my life, and even if we were never able to make it legal, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Yashiro’s smile was bigger than Itsuki had ever seen it as the ring was slipped over the finger of his left hand. “This ring is my promise to you,” he said. “I’ll never leave you alone when you need help. I’ll always be there for you no matter what your problem is – If you asked me to throw myself into the Cosmic Egg’s abyss to save the world, I would without question. From now on, we act as one and face whatever may come together.”

Itsuki took both of Yashiro’s hands as he rose back to his feet. “I’d want nothing more from my husband.”

Chapter Text

BOOM.

The dream again. The endless sea again.

The voices again – but Yashiro’s came earlier, and instead it was the promises he’d made to Itsuki.

The darkness was banished, and the sea brightened again as the use of Itsuki's right arm was restored to him. It calmed him slightly as he shook it out, the limb tingling as if it had been asleep, and this time he noticed that when he was forced to inhale, he was actually able to inhale the water as if it were air. If Itsuki hadn't known he was dreaming, he most definitely would have been a lot more freaked out, to say the least. Still, though - even knowledge of his dream state couldn't stop the initial moment of disbelief as he breathed like nothing was out of the ordinary.

With the need for air replenished, he finally decided to stop thrashing and survey his surroundings. Still an empty expanse of now-bright water, but now as he listened closer, he could hear a faint noise… a man humming? It sounded startlingly close to Yashiro’s softer register, but it wasn’t quite him.

The light started to gather just as it had in the last dream, and this time the figure formed a little quicker. He was slightly sharper now, and this time Itsuki could see a few hints of features. He was in a monochrome scale; Itsuki could tell that there were a few colors that were supposed to be there, but as the projection still wavered and flickered it was assumed that the man didn’t have the energy to muster up color. He wore the very distinct attire of a Mirage; he was only semi-corporeal, and his fatigues had motifs reminiscent of Caeda’s original Pegasus Knight form. That made no sense, though  – Caeda had told them that women were the only ones who became Pegasus Knights in her world when she had her memories back due to the pegasi being highly temperamental towards men, and Chrom had corroborated that statement with his world.

Could that mean this man was from another world entirely?

The man’s shoulder pads didn’t extend nearly as far as Caeda’s had, only halfway to his elbows. The body of the outfit extended into more of a bodysuit instead of the short dress-like base; the metal filigree on the body of the outfit also extended down his legs to his knee-high boots, and there were a few motifs of tulle and jewels around the outfit that reminded Itsuki a little more of the type of dress Maiko had always donned to assist in an Idolasphere. Unlike Caeda, he wore no helmet, and his lightly shaded hair was mostly short save for a long swoop of it down over his right eye. His left eye was covered by an elaborate opera mask, the eye hole filled in with a darker shade. Said mask extended in a swooping white pegasus wing that encircled the shorter side of his hair.

Instantly the man threw his hands up in surrender. “Don’t run!! Please!”

Itsuki returned the gesture. “Don’t worry. I’m in a bit of a better position to listen than I was last night.”

The man almost crumpled with relief. “Oh, thank the gods. I don’t think I’ll be able to reach out like this again for a little while unless I waste time I don’t have gathering energy... this is quite literally my last chance at salvation.”

“Salvation?”

“My world is in grave danger. An ancient force threatens to tear it apart, and my only other method of saving it is… indisposed. I'm all out of options and resources, and calling for help from anyone I can is my last resort. I've tried others who are capable of helping me already, but the resources at their disposal weren't strong enough, and they've been silenced. Please...”

“What can I do?” The worlds were out of Itsuki’s mouth before he could even think over entering what could easily become a second war when he was hardly over the first one.

At the phrase’s exit, a light burst around Itsuki and suddenly he was in his Carnage Form. His sword was nowhere to be found, which made sense; Chrom was off somewhere in his own world, which meant Itsuki would have to supply his own weapons.

“This force can only be stopped by the use of two relics from its same era, but they can’t be used by the same person. I had someone with me to use the Seal of Flames – an arcane sword capable of sealing this power – but she’s been taken by the enemy, and even if she hadn’t been, the figures who supply the power to the Seal are missing, and the Seal itself has been compromised. I started looking through to other worlds for an alternative, and discovered Performa; how a much more potent power similar to Performa already powers our divine weapons and how, if I gathered enough of the right type, I could possibly restore the Seal and even power it.

Gathering Performa... that sounded way too close to Medeus’ plans.

Itsuki’s eyes narrowed. “To be clear, you mean in a partnership, correct? You won’t be able to just take our Performa; not without a fight.”

“Stars, no!” The man quickly refuted. “In searching for Performa, I did see a brief history of your world and what you’ve been through in recent years. I truly hate to ask this of you so soon after fighting such a large battle over Performa, but I honestly have no other choice.”

“As long as you understand,” the lord reiterated.

“Of course. Your world very quickly showed itself as a ripe Performa well, as I’m sure you know already. Two others have presented themselves to have weak glimmers of Performa, but those glimmers were taken from your world in the first place. I’m hoping you will be able to help me travel to these worlds and gather up the few heroes who show these glimmers of Performa and help them foster it into a usable force. I think you may know them quite well.”

Itsuki froze, processing the weight of the man's words.

He was going to see Chrom again. His partner-in-crime, one of his best friends.

He was going to see Chrom again.

“When do I start?” he blurted.

The Mirage chuckled. “So eager. The sooner you begin, the better; the time I have left to save my home is running out quicker than I'd like.” The note of amusement wilted into a grimace at the thought. "And that's not the only endeavor I need help with, either."

A small piece of an unidentifiable object flashed into existence between them, the fragment of something bigger. It floated through the open space of water.

“This is the only piece I have left of the second artifact needed to seal the ancient power threatening our worlds. We may be able to circumvent needing the components to power the Seal of Flames, but this artifact is undoubtedly required in this journey. As you can see, it’s been destroyed. My mother gave her soul to a life of eternal damnation in an exchange for this power’s slumber the last time it awoke. The pendant shattered when she used its highest power to do so, its pieces scattered across time itself. I have no idea if this is even possible, but I think the initial spark of reignited Performa in each of your former partners will cause just the right burst of magic input for the pieces to reseal and gain their magic again. I've seen it split before, and in this state its only mission is to seek out the other pieces to rejoin. I must entrust this task to you, as I no longer have a way to escape my own world.”

"That sounds plausible enough," Itsuki granted, “But respectfully, I have to ask – are you even sure if any of this will work?”

“It has to work,” the Mirage stressed. “If it doesn’t… this force will eat through my world, then the worlds of your allies, and finally yours. Nothing will be spared.”

“We’ll figure something out, even if this plan falls through,” Itsuki reassured.

The fragment dematerialized, and the Mirage’s form started to unravel at his feet. “It seems my time is up. Check your bedside – you’ll figure out what to do from there. Godspeed, and be careful... the memory of water often rings so strong that it can create an echo of actions long past.” He worried a hand through the ends of his hair, grimacing. "I can only hope the echoes you encounter don't prove fatal."

Before Itsuki could ask what he meant, the Mirage faded away, and the ocean faded into white.

. . .

Itsuki’s eyes snapped open to the pitch darkness of his apartment bedroom. He didn’t know what time it was, but the sun hadn’t risen yet. Yashiro’s arms were wrapped around him, the man in question fast asleep. Itsuki felt very energized; this was perhaps the best sleep he’d gotten in the last 5 years.

Now, though, he had a whole new sea of troubles to address.

He glanced over at Yashiro’s peaceful face. Itsuki really needed some allies if he was going to get this done. Something told him that this wouldn’t be a peaceful stroll to each former Mirage partner with a little pep talk. Not only was this going to be extremely dangerous, but he could very likely die much easier and much more painfully if the wrong step is taken in this situation.

But another force to fight… it’s too soon after Medeus. Itsuki’s friends and loved ones had suffered through enough for now.

With a firm resolve, Itsuki slowly and gently extricated himself from Yashiro’s arms as he’d done many nights before. When he was confident Yashiro wasn’t going to wake, Itsuki looked to the nightstand on his bedside.

A small wedge of alabaster sat on the table, with half of a golden chain attached to a loop on its left edge. It was lightweight, but it seemed fairly durable. Still, knowing its importance, Itsuki padded into the kitchen to place it in a plastic bag before pocketing it close to his heart.

He returned to his room to retrieve his phone, but as he picked it up he noticed that his faulty charger had not revived it and the power was still dead. Frustrated, he sighed and tightened his grip on the phone, but then something happened.

Sparks of electricity jolted from Itsuki’s fingertips into the phone, and its charge shot up to 65%.

Itsuki froze. He hadn’t been able to do that since the Idolaspheres collapsed.

Quietly, he crept into the kitchen so as not to wake Yashiro, set his phone on the counter and held his hands out in front of him. Just like he’d once practiced controlling, he let a little bit of that electric energy he’d just realized had returned out onto the surface, and as he’d suspected sparks of electricity danced over his hands. A stray bolt arced off his hands and struck the wall, but Itsuki barely noticed.

The Idolaspheres were back.

On edge and with more than a little hope, Itsuki rushed out of the house making as little noise as he could. Once he was out of the apartment, he made a dash at breakneck speed for the office. At the front entrance, his desperate state made him miss the security card swipe a couple times, but once he was allowed entry he burst through the door. He looked around the room; as he suspected, all the items in the storage closet that had once been the Bloom Palace were in new places on the shelves next to his desk, as if they’d never been moved inside the closet at all.

Itsuki braced himself. He had no clue if Tiki would be there, but his heart certainly wished it was true.

Then, he opened the closet door.

Whoosh.

When the white cleared, Itsuki stood in the Bloom Palace once again… but no one was here.

Itsuki took in the state of the room, and his heart sank.

The stone was eroded and cracked, its sheen gone. The plants were all dying. The water was dirty. The sky was muddled with clouds, and what few patches he could see were an ominous rouge color.

Tentatively, Itsuki walked up to the altar at the back. It was cracked in many places, but what caught Itsuki’s eye was the mural on the front.

It had changed from a Medeus depiction to something else. On one side, it showed the fierce battle of two lords facing a gargantuan six-eyed dragon. Beneath the dragon were three hooded Tacticians, the larger one controlling the smaller ones and the dragon with puppet-like strings. Both lords held an unmistakably familiar sword, and when Itsuki reappraised the male lord’s silhouette it was most definitely Chrom.

A large crack in the stone split that mural from the other one on the right. On that side there was a large, ominous face being attacked by 5 young figures, 2 women and 3 men – one magic user, one bow wielder, two sword wielders and one lance wielder. Each weapon had its own distinct molding, save for the lance. A tiny shadow in front of the face was kneeling on the ground, a young girl clearly in pain, the remains of something broken beneath her. The figure in the center of the attacking party, the lance wielder, had a swoop of hair over his right eye, meaning this could very well be the Mirage Itsuki had spoken to in his dream.

Bing…

Bing…

Itsuki could feel something pulsing in his pocket. Taking out the relic fragment and removing it from its plastic bag, he could see it pulsating. It lit up ever so slightly every 6 seconds or so.

What was Itsuki supposed to do…?

He studied it, and eventually a thought came to his mind.

The note the piece kept emitting was an A flat. What if he sang an A flat?

With nothing stopping him from trying, Itsuki copied the note emitted. As he hummed, it resonated slightly against the few stone pillars still standing. A light flashed before him, and an Idolasphere portal themed to the Bloom Palace appeared to the right of the altar. It was the one bright thing in the room.

Itsuki started to walk towards the portal, but then he stopped short. He was about to walk into an unknown world with no weapons or items to assist him, but it was ridiculously early in the morning and there was nowhere to buy anything.

What to do…

Ren!

Itsuki knew his cousin Ren was getting into some questionable business for the year before all the Performa hunting started. Maybe he’d have something acceptable – Itsuki knew he had weapons, at least.

-DIRECT IM: REN AMAMIYA-

Itsuki Aoi: Hello, Amamiya-san. I know it’s been a long time since we last spoke, and I'm sorry for that. Are you awake right now?

A few minutes passed, and Itsuki started to lose hope, but then his phone buzzed.

Ren Amamiya: Hey, Aoi. Good to hear from you – though, a lot’s changed since we last talked. I actually go by Akira Kurusu now; long story, but I was falsely convicted of a crime and you know how bad the parents are, so they made me change my name so I wasn’t connected to them and I liked the new name better

Itsuki Aoi: Noted. Changing your contact name now.

Akira Kurusu: So, what was it you needed? If you’re texting me this early in the morning, you must need something

Itsuki Aoi: You’re right. We may not have talked since I got the paperwork to walk out on the charming aunt and uncle, but I did know you were in Tokyo 6 years ago getting into some shady business. Would any of that business happen to have weapons or first aid materials involved?

Akira Kurusu: …Who wants to know?

Itsuki Aoi: Just me. It’s a similarly long story on my end, but to summarize, a lot of people are in danger and I need to save them, but the weapons I used for something similar 5 years ago have long been lost.

Akira Kurusu: Weapons to use in a different world?

Itsuki Aoi: Yes… how did you know?

Akira Kurusu: Central Street, 30 minutes. It’s best if we speak in person, dunno if the feds are still tapping my phone. What weapons do you need?

Itsuki Aoi: I don’t know if there’s a specific term for it. It’s a sword, but it’s lighter and narrower. Kind of like the sword you fence with.

Akira Kurusu: A rapier, then. See you soon

Itsuki Aoi: But the trains are definitely out. Do you live in town?

Akira Kurusu: No, I’m over in Yongen-Jaya. We’ll be there soon, though

-CHAT THREAD CLOSED BY: AKIRA KURUSU-

Why did Akira get so guarded when the Idolaspheres were mentioned? How did he know about Idolaspheres at all?

Well, I guess I’ll get my answer soon, Itsuki thought as he made his way out of the Bloom Palace and down towards Central Street.

Chapter Text

It was very warm at the Central Street Station Square, and Itsuki was wishing he hadn’t worn his warmer set of sleepwear in the face of the unrelenting heat wave. The street was completely desolate; at this point in the night the trains were shut down and everyone was safely at home sleeping. So, Itsuki was perplexed as to how Akira was going to get there from Yongen-Jaya, of all places.

Then, the world flashed purple around him. Slowly fading in before him, two silhouettes sharpened and solidified into Akira and…

Is that Sumire? She’d grown out her long red hair and gotten the glasses she’d so desperately needed.

Itsuki smiled, bewildered. “Yoshizawa-chan, is that you?”

She chuckled quietly. “Hello, Aoi-san. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“You’re really more perplexed by Sumire’s return than you are by us appearing out of thin air?” Akira chuckled.

“I’ve seen worse,” Itsuki replied. “You haven’t lived until you’ve slain a literal dragon threatening to consume our world.”

“Please,” Akira pushed off. “You haven’t lived until you’ve dematerialized from existence and then dethroned two different gods in the span of three months.”

“…I’m sorry, what?”

He snorted. “Ever heard of the Phantom Thieves?”

“Not much. I mostly stopped watching the news after the incident, so all I heard were mentions in passing about calling cards and how some of the Thieves might go to Kosei, and I know there was a Kosei student that was a pupil of one of their targets, but not who. That’s about it.”

“That’s fair,” Akira said. “The news really fucked up with her case. Well, we’re them… er, well, two of them. There’s nine of us now – ten then – and one of them was, in fact, from Kosei.”

“So,” Sumire interjected. “I take it you were gifted with the same powers we had not long after we took action?”

“Well… the Phantom Thieves stole the hearts of corrupt humans, correct? That wasn’t exactly our experience. We subdued corrupt Mirages.”

Akira’s brow knit together. “Mirages?”

“Yeah, Mirages.” Itsuki’s confidence wavered. “You know, your ghostly helper in the other world?”

“Ah.” Sumire’s face filled with clarity. “We call those Personas. They’re reflections of the inner rebel within our soul. Er, well – that’s how the other members’ Personas work. Mine doesn’t seem to be me at all. Cendrillion more resembles Kasumi; you remember her, right? Well, she passed away nearly 7 years ago protecting me from a car crash. Cendrillion seems more like Kasumi’s spirit than anything I would project.”

“Maybe that’s closer to the relationship with our Mirages, then,” Itsuki supplied. “They’re different beings from us; they came from different worlds to aid us in saving our own. The dragon we fought had already ravaged their worlds. We have seen spirits become or inhabit Mirages before as well. This ‘Cendrillion’ could very well be Kasumi in Mirage form.”

“So, it’s inner projections vs. lost spirits,” Akira mused. “6 years and we still learn new things about the Metaverse.”

“Metaverse?”

“That’s what we call the general alternate reality, yes. What did you call it?”

“We called them Idolaspheres, generally because they gathered everyone’s Performa – their abilities in the performing arts – for Medeus’ reawakening."

“Strange,” Sumire mused. “We should meet up at a better time and discuss the differences between the Metaverse and your Idolaspheres - something tells me they're related in some way, but now isn't the best time to get into it." She crossed her arms and moved on once she saw Itsuki's confirming nod. "Anyway, do you know why the Metaverse is back? We traveled through the collective cognition of the people to get here, which should be impossible since the Metaverse was supposed to have collapsed.”

“I’m… not even going to ask what you mean by ‘the collective cognition of the people,’” Itsuki replied, “but my recent dreams have been invaded by a Mirage from a world I have yet to learn of. He could hardly reach me with his power, so I didn’t waste his precious time asking for his name. His world, and later ours, is in danger of being consumed by what he calls an ancient arcane power. All other methods of sealing it have been exhausted, so he’s reached out to me to gather our former Mirages from their worlds and reassemble a relic needed to seal it. I assume that since our alternate worlds are likely linked, then your Metaverse would return as well – so, you’re welcome for putting you guys back in business, I guess. However, the way our Mirages worked was that they would turn into our physical weapons, so as such I have no rapier in the real world. I wanted to survey the first area before calling in my friends, but I have no clue where to get supplies for this sort of thing. That's why I got in touch with you.”

“I see,” Akira said. “Well, as requested, we’ve brought you a number of our old healing supplies, and Sumire’s offered to give you one of her old rapiers.”

Once the healing supplies were exchanged, Sumire pulled a model rapier with a gilded hilt out of her duffel bag. “This weapon is only a model, but if your Idolaspheres work anything like the Metaverse then it should work as a real weapon when you enter.”

Itsuki took it, then swung it around the open air to test it out. Just the right balance of weight, perfect control when signing his name for a spell. The tightness that quickly started to crop up in his shoulder concerned him, however, and his movements weren't nearly as quick or fluid as they used to be; he hadn't engaged in any sword training since Medeus had been eliminated, and during that battle he'd been riding off too much adrenaline to notice any change since being struck down by the dragon. If his sword abilities had been hindered, that would quickly become an issue.

Regardless, he nodded in approval. That would be Future Itsuki's problem, not his. “This will be perfect. Thanks, Sumire-chan.”

“It’s no problem. If you’ll follow us this way, then we’ll show you where we buy them.”

Itsuki was led down Central Street and into a back alley, where the darkened windows of an airsoft shop stared back at me.

“Sumire,” Akira said. “Some light, please?”

Without any response, a light blinked into existence, circling Sumire’s arm and hovering over her palm – Bless magic’s real-world form. While small, the light was very powerful, illuminating the storefront and displaying the unlit neon sign reading ‘Untouchable.’

“Bless,” Itsuki commented. “Not something I think we ever had on our side of the equation. What are both of your main elements, out of curiosity?”

Sumire let the Bless tendrils swirl around her, but nothing else manifested. Akira, on the other hand, let out tendrils of Curse, and the air seemed to still as the feeling of death permeated it. A nagging sense of paranoid alertness lit up in the back of Itsuki's mind, the feeling a little too similar to the magic Medeus had used to strike him down for his liking.

Itsuki sparked off some of his own electric currents, then quickly dispelled them. “Curse is also rare for us, though we do have one minor Curse user. Nice to know not to piss you off, though, unless I want a nasty case of necrosis on my hands.”

Akira chuckled as the Curse tendrils dispelled, but didn’t feel a need to add to the topic. Instead he turned to the storefront. “I work here. It’s fairly sketchy and the feds are always in the shadows waiting to pounce on any sign of suspicion, but the models are insane in quality.”

“That’s nice, but… as the president of Fortuna Entertainment, I don’t think it would bode too well for my entire party’s public image if I, or any of them for that matter, were caught walking into a seedy airsoft shop,” Itsuki chuckled.

“Ah – that’s fair. How about you text me if you need a specific weapon and I could pay for it so you can pay me the difference later, when I can get it to you?”

“That sounds good. It means I get to see you more often, too.”

“Awesome. You’re off, then?”

Itsuki nodded.

“I’ll let the other members of the team know that you and your team will need weapons and might reach out for other modes of assistance,” Akira said. “You should be able to identify us pretty easily – some of us aren’t extremely careful about public magic use, and all of us have a tattoo of the Phantom Thief logo in various colors – a variation not seen in the general public.” To prove his point he shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeve to reveal the logo with its usual red accents on his right shoulder. The only difference was that the hat’s top was slightly open and another set of eyes were peeking out at Itsuki. Sumire turned around and swept her hair around her shoulder to reveal a grayscale version of the same design on the back of her neck.

“We’ll let the others know you’re affiliated with Fortuna Entertainment, so all you’ll have to do is mention the company to them and they’ll know who you are,” Sumire finished. “This goes for any of your associates too, assuming they’re all under Fortuna?”

“They are,” Itsuki confirmed. "Thank you.”

“Itsuki-kun,” Sumire continued. “I’m sure we don’t need to tell you this, but… be careful. We can’t catch up if you die in another world, right?”

Itsuki chuckled. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

The two young adults bid him goodbye, started to walk out towards the stairs to the station, and Akira pulled out his phone and opened some strange-looking app. They were too far away to hear by the time he’d started saying things into the app, but once he pressed the button, the world flashed purple again, and they both warped and dematerialized as they walked down the stairs.

As Itsuki himself began to emerge from the alleyway in question, he shook his head. It’s a small world, he thought. That my own cousin and his group of friends would awaken to a startlingly similar power to ours? The odds are astronomical.

Itsuki began to walk down Central Street towards Fortuna, his mind circling back to Sumire’s sudden appearance. He’d never known Sumire extremely well, but they’d been fairly friendly in their childhood, and Akira had stuck to her like glue at that time. Then, when Akira had moved out to Inaba and that Goro kid they’d been thick as thieves with had stopped visiting due to some family circumstance, Sumire had slowly stopped coming to see Itsuki. Every time she did, she looked like she’d folded in further and further on her shy self, or even beneath her twin's shadow.

A sweet kid, yet she’d always seemed like she'd dug herself deeper into a hole every time she visited.

So seeing her now with a confident and happy look on her face… it warmed Itsuki’s heart.

A hardened resolve in his mind, Itsuki began his path back to the offices, ready to face whatever might come when he walked through that portal.

Chapter Text

Whoosh.

The first thing Itsuki noticed was that it was nearly debilitatingly dark. If it weren’t for the minimal outside light, there would have been no light to go by. An opening into a cloud of white gaped a little further ahead; this must be a cave.

The next thing Itsuki noticed was that it was cold. Itsuki shivered and hugged himself for warmth, still in his sleepwear. It seemed almost impossible to him that he had just been lamenting how overdressed he was for the heat back home, as now this bitter cold cut through his clothes and seeped straight into his core.

Itsuki surveyed his surroundings – a small cauldron, a burnt-out fire, few and meager cooking tools. This cave has been lived in, perhaps was still being lived in now. Continuing to look around presented a tall rock shelf that could act as a loft and a number of what looked like they might be weapon maintenance items neatly arranged in a corner. When Itsuki looked back outside the entrance to the cave, a blizzard was flurrying at breakneck speeds through the air, creating the previously-noted flurry of white that was near impossible to see through. That explained the cold.

Why on earth did he emerge in a cave in the center of a snowy tundra?

If that Mirage’s words had been correctly interpreted, then this was one of the two worlds their former Mirage partners hailed from – or it could even be the third world that the Mirage who had reached out for help came from. How was Itsuki supposed to find anyone in this?

He pondered his options. The ash in the remains of that fire looked rather recent; he could stay here to see if anyone comes by, but then that poses the risk of the cave’s inhabitant getting the wrong idea. Those weapon sharpeners looked well-used.

Suddenly, he heard a roar of fire and the cry of an animal in the distance.

Bracing himself, Itsuki reluctantly stormed out into the blizzard in search of the source.

The cold was nearly debilitating, and if he stretched his hand out in front of him all the way, he almost couldn’t see it.  However, the same animal that had yelped was still whimpering, getting louder and louder now. Itsuki followed the noise until two figures began to make themselves apparent in the storm.

A white wolf was barely visible, on its side and whimpering up at its assailant. It had been severely burned; its blood pumped out onto the snow. Above the wolf knelt a man dressed in many layers appropriate for the weather. Long, dark and thin hair sticking out from his fluffy cap blew around in the fierce winds, collecting scores of snowflakes that lodged between each lock. Tightly-wrapped fur vambraces gripped a silver sword, well-used and clouded from the elements.

The man knelt down close to the wolf and stroked its muzzle once, though it didn’t seem like it was out of remorse. Then, with one swift swipe of his sword, he killed the wolf. Its yelp was quick and short.

The man kneels over the wolf and prepares to drag it away, but then he sees Itsuki. He freezes, eyes almost conveying disbelief, and that’s when Itsuki recognizes him.

“…Navarre?” Itsuki took a couple of steps forward. “Is that you?”

Itsuki barely blinked before Navarre dashed up and swiped the point of his blade against Itsuki’s throat, eyes now narrowed as if seeing a threat.

“What was the last thing I said to Itsuki Aoi before I returned here?” he asked.

Itsuki quickly racked his brain before his eyes lit up. “You brought me aside from the other Mirages and asked me to watch over Yashiro – that no matter how strong he is or makes himself look, his biggest weakness was failing to rely on those he loves when the time calls for it, and that he very clearly loves me.”

Slowly, Navarre’s guard loosened, and he lowered the sword. Itsuki thought he would at least be greeted in Navarre’s own shorthand way, but instead the man turned back around and grabbed the wolf carcass to drag through the snow. “Do you still have a sword?” he asked.

Itsuki made an affirming noise and unsheathed his new rapier – which, as Sumire predicted, had sharpened into a real weapon.

“Good. Swipe the snow behind us – mix the blood far in enough that it doesn’t leave a noticeable trail in this blizzard.”

He started to walk off in the direction Itsuki had come from, so Itsuki scrambled behind him and shuffled the snow up so the blood wasn’t easily noticeable.

The two walked in silence for a short time until Navarre finally said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Itsuki nearly scoffed. “What, not even a ‘how on earth did you get here?’”

“Whatever it is, I want no part in it. I’m done trying to play the white knight.”

“You don’t even know if I’m in trouble!”

“We had deduced there was no natural connection between our worlds,” Navarre replied without hesitation. “If you got here, it had to be at a higher power’s hand. Which means you need my assistance with something.”

Itsuki sighed, unable to refute the fact. “Why not?”

“Later. We could be overheard here.”

Itsuki looked around. “By who?”

“No one you ever want to meet.” Navarre walked faster to avoid further chat, forcing Itsuki to try and keep up while covering their tracks.

Eventually the cave he’d arrived in came back into view, and Navarre made a beeline for it. Once they were inside, he brought the wolf carcass up to a line hanging near the cave ceiling and hung it over a large pot – likely letting the blood drain out some.

Itsuki stood near the cave entrance feeling like an intruding houseguest as Navarre started a new fire beneath the cauldron, barely looking in Itsuki’s direction. Once the fire was well lit, Navarre grabbed a sharpening stone from his repertoire of maintenance tools and sat cross-legged before the fire. He almost started sharpening his sword before remembering Itsuki was standing there and motioned with his head to the other side of the fire.

Itsuki followed Navarre’s direction and sat across from him.

Minutes passed in silence, punctuated only by the scrape of Navarre’s sword against the sharpening stone, and Itsuki took this chance to study him. He’d never seen Navarre’s entire face before, given how his Mirage attire had manifested. Navarre’s eyes were shaped slightly like almonds, their fitting almond color almost shining with animosity; though, knowing his personality, Itsuki knew that animosity was not toward him, but just a resting animosity in general. His face was a little longer than the average, but it seemed to suit him. Despite the differences between the two, Itsuki still noted that Navarre bore a fairly striking resemblance to Yashiro from certain angles.

Finally, Itsuki cleared his throat and said, “Why won’t you help?”

“Simple.” Navarre never looked up from his sharpening. “I’m done.”

“I’ll need a little more context than that.”

“Two wars,” Navarre replied. “I was roped into two separate wars on this continent that I had no stake in. My only life purpose has been to fulfill my own goals, and if I hadn’t been enlisted for either war, I could have done that. Fighting in a greater cause has allowed the only cause that mattered to me to slip through my fingers – reduced to just a number in civilian casualties. Now my only destiny is either to rot away in this cave or be killed by the Soothsires.”

“Or have your soul eternally damned by an ancient god, if you don't help us,” Itsuki retorted.

Navarre’s hand froze, and the sharpening stopped. He cast his eyes up at Itsuki. “…Pardon?”

“A Mirage came to me in my sleep – it didn’t look like anyone we knew, and I thought it might be someone from a different world entirely, considering he was a male Pegasus Knight. He begged me for help to save his world from an ancient power, which I assume is a god of some sort.” Itsuki retrieved the relic shard from where it had been resting in his pocket and presented it to Navarre. “He explained that he needs this relic to seal the power away, but that it was destroyed the last time his predecessors had to do the same – this is only one shard of it, and the rest has been 'scattered across time,' whatever that means. This piece is supposedly meant to seek out the others, and as I collect them I need to gather all of you and help you awaken to the sparks of Performa that have started within you. This Mirage thinks that might kickstart the shards into fusing together and regaining their power. If we fail, our worlds and every other one will be eaten alive and we’ll all be damned to eternal torment.”

Navarre pressed his lips together, taking in Itsuki’s words. “I do intend for my days to be numbered,” he indulged. “Eternal torment would put that on hold for the foreseeable future. But I can’t help you find the others – if I reveal my position, the Soothsires will find us and we’ll be good as dead. I’m trapped in this tundra and have been for years. We can’t get through them without a group; at least three of us, if not more.”

Three, huh?

Itsuki sighed. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to call the others into this for a little while yet, but it seems like it’s necessary.”

“Are you able to travel here freely?” asked Navarre.

“From the Bloom Palace, yes, but…” Itsuki looked around the cave. “I appeared here and I’m not seeing a way back."

Navarre sighed. “That is troublesome.”

Bing…

Bing…

Itsuki looked back down at the relic to see that it was pulsing again. In time with each pulse, a small pool of water at the back of the cave rippled with a very dim light.

…Oh, no.

“Considering your sudden attention to that pool of water, I assume that may be your way back,” Navarre pointed out, unbeknownst to Itsuki’s horror at the fact.

“I was afraid of that,” Itsuki muttered. “I’ve had some… adverse experiences with water.”

An acknowledging sound from the Myrmidon. “No avoiding it if you want to go home, though. Don’t expect me to hold your hand.”

“Right,” Itsuki affirmed. “For what it’s worth, it was nice to see you again.”

Another noncommittal noise – though, Itsuki could tell there was no bite to it and maybe even a little agreement. “Be careful out there – I’d hate to see that incessantly determined face of yours become rearranged because you weren't careful.” There was no indication that Navarre had meant the insult as a joke, but Itsuki knew him well enough to know his intentions were genuine.

“Thank you. I hope you’ll be careful too.”

Then, Itsuki turned to face the music – literally. The sharpening of the sword had started again behind him.

Itsuki shook out his arms a bit as he stared into the deep cavity of water, taking a deeper breath in and out. It was just water. Despite the fact that water had never played nice when he was in it, he’d known how to swim since he was 6. Sayaka had taught him—

Sayaka.

Saya.

Itsuki still remembered his sister's bright smile as a child, as she taught him how to navigate and stay above the rippling currents and whirlpools they seemed to experience quite often in the ocean. He remembered her silly faces and poses underwater as they explored the sea floor, going for what felt like hours without air. He remembered her firm grip when a particularly angry whirlpool had tried to suck him down into a sinkhole and squeeze the air out of him, her grounding hug and relieved, delirious tears when she’d finally managed to pull him back on the shore.

Itsuki had been 15 then, and Sayaka 16. They’d both stopped swimming for fun after that, despite the way it pained their ocean-faring hearts.

Itsuki’s next solid memory of interacting with Sayaka had been when she’d discovered on her own that their father was not hers by blood. Mother had never intended to tell her. The explosive screaming match that had ensued was surprisingly not called in as a noise complaint, but it ended with Saya packing her things and sneaking away in the night; not before Itsuki tried to stop her, however, and she blew up on him next. He vividly remembered how she swore that the only way she’d ever come back would be in a body bag. By the time Mother had noticed she was missing, she was well on her way out of Tokyo. She’d been 3 months shy of 18 years old.

A little over a year later, 4 months before the One of Millennium incident and the beginning of the Medeus war, Itsuki had been visited by authorities from all the way out in Inaba.

“You are the first living citizen listed as Sayaka Aoi’s next of kin,” they had said. “I’m truly sorry to tell you that she has passed away.”

She had drowned in a sudden whirlpool, fallen off a bridge headed for the city.

They could both hold their breaths for a very, very long time. How on earth could she have possibly drowned in such low water?

And what stopped Itsuki from doing the same?

“Aoi?”

Itsuki jumped, and now that he really had a sword he instinctively drew it towards the assailant.

Navarre didn’t even twitch, looking straight down the blade into Itsuki’s eyes. “Perhaps my request to watch over Yashiro should have been directed in the vice versa. You look terrible.”

Itsuki lowered his sword in embarrassment, braved a quick glance out into the water again, then snapped his eyes back to the Myrmidon. “I’ll be alright. He finally managed to get me to open up about some long-standing struggles I've had since Medeus and now I'm ready to start trying to look forward. I just need to get back into my old routine. To call my experiences with water adverse might have been too much of an underestimation.”

Itsuki remembered the funeral. How he’d very quickly chosen to have her body cremated when he saw what was left of it that hadn’t been pulled apart by rocks and rough currents and how it was was battered, bruised and bloated.

Navarre made an acknowledging noise, then gestured back in front of him. “Stay and eat. The food shouldn’t be long.”

Itsuki started to gravitate to his spot on the floor before he looked back at the pool water, then back to the spot.

Itsuki couldn’t possibly run from his problems. If he was going to get familiar with water for this quest, he would have to start somewhere. Besides – Navarre seemed to have so little food as it was. He wasn’t going to make an even bigger dent in that supply.

“No,” Itsuki said. “Thank you for the offer, but I have to leave.”

“By all means - good luck.”

Finally, Itsuki turned back to the pool and copied the note the relic shard had been emitting. The water lit up a bright blue like the blue expanse Itsuki had met that mystery Mirage in. Itsuki knew that if he didn’t go now, he might never muster up the courage.

So, he braced himself and took the leap.

Chapter Text

Itsuki was pulled down a winding channel of water, yanked every which way. There were multiple instances in which the current grew almost violent, nearly knocking the air out of Itsuki, and his own panic wasn’t doing him any favors. Eventually he could see a light at the end of the path, but then the current sharply changed again. He was almost pulled out of the current and when he smashed his head on the current wall, his vision went black.

. . .

…

……

“…simply don’t believe that.” A voice.

The scene faded in, and a man in what looked to be medieval-era royal armor was seen standing in the center of a massive cave. He wore a fairly elaborate crown on his head – definitely a patriarch of some sort. Pools of water surrounded him, all tinged with that supernatural blue the relic had caused in the pool of water he'd jumped into. Behind him, a slight shimmer of a different kind of magic shone over the cave entrance, but Itsuki didn't know exactly what kind. Another man was pacing near the back of the cave wall. Itsuki couldn’t see most of his figure in the shadows, but high boots, black pants gilded with blue and golden eye designs and the bottom edge of a blue-trimmed white-and-gold cloak swiped back and forth.

“Soliarunn, I am gravely serious,” the cloaked man said. His pacing slowed, then stopped as he turned to face the royal man – Soliarunn, presumably. “You don’t know what it’s like to not know what your mind is thinking.” The man’s speech was very refined, just barely dated even for this long-past time, but it looked like he was uncharacteristically at his last wit. “To not know whether your next move will be your own. To not know when your next rampage will be, or whether it will hurt someone truly close to you.” The cloak man’s fingers curled, barely visible in the shadow of the cave.

“You’re right,” Soliarunn quietly agreed. “From your accounts, my friend, it sounds like bitter hell. But still… I know that together, we can get through this. There has to be some sort of way to suppress the adverse effects of your degeneration in a long-term fashion... if you’ll just come with me to the castle, we can—”

"Don't you understand?!” the cloaked man yelled. “The people hate me; they discarded me years ago when they began to discover the magic they could generate from their own talents. They simply don't think they need me anymore, even after everything I've done for them. If you took me back, not only would you have to confine me in a quarantine not unlike the barrier here, but your people would revolt! I can’t do that to you, not to mention your Arete and little Azura…” The cloaked man started pacing again.

“And what of your own wife? Your son?” Soliarunn countered. “He will grow up never knowing who his father is. Mikoto’s been like a sister to me ever since Arete took her in – she’s never been fazed like this, and if it pains me to see her so, then I can only imagine how it makes you feel. Do you really want that?” He paused with a sigh before continuing. “I came here not only of my own will, but at the requests of Arete and Mikoto. They miss you dearly, but they have to stay at the castle to take care of the children. When Katerina and Ikona visit from Hoshido and Nohr, their questions as to Corrin's father become more and more invasive. You know it’s not very socially acceptable in royal culture for the parent of a noble child to be unknown.”

The cloaked man stopped dead in his tracks. He faced away from Soliarunn, tears of the same fluorescent blue water in the pools below slipping down his cheeks. “…I have no choice, Soliarunn.” The man’s voice cracked, defeated. “Ask Mikoto. Her visions are never wrong, and neither are mine. We’ve seen my destruction of Valla before our very eyes, and staying here will allow me to prolong it as long as I can. Do you really believe that I wish to stay this far from my son? From the love of my life, the one soul on this Earth that has allowed me to keep away from the brink for this long? It’s – it’s tearing me apart.”

Soliarunn slowly made a couple of steps toward the despairing figure. “…No. I shouldn’t have judged you so easily - my apologies, friend. But that’s all the more reason to think that if we search as far and wide as we can for a cure or solution to the degeneration, we can slowly seal away the Silent Dragon for a long time, and you can be reunited with your family.”

Something seemed to subtly and unnaturally shift in the cloaked man's stance, and he pushed out an enraged breath. He stepped forward, showing his full figure in the light. His entire body was obscured by the cloak, only his nose, mouth and the sides of long blue hair peeking out from the shadows of his long cowl. His eyes began to glow bright yellow through those shadows, a set of floating irises visible that made the man look more ominous. His hands balled into fists. “…Shut up.”

Soliarunn continued, seemingly not having noticed the shift in his friend's demeanor quite yet. “If Mikoto has kept you from turning, perhaps if you came to the castle and spent most of your time with your family, you could start to stabilize!”

The water in the fluorescent pools began to rise, swirling around the cloaked man and obscuring Soliarunn’s features. Only his figure was visible to Itsuki now. The cloaked man’s breathing became ragged, and his eyes glowed brighter.

Soliarunn surely must have noticed the potential danger by now, but he only walked forward, blasting through the ragged tendrils of water to the man. “Please! We can fix all of this if you would only—”

“Shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!” The man’s voice rose to a violent cry, and the scream immediately following almost seemed to be blended with that of a dragon’s – primal, animalistic. He thrust his hands out, and his white robes blew back with the force of every drop of water in the cave rushing straight at Soliarunn’s chest.

It made contact. A series of sickening cracks were heard.

As the water began to travel back into their pools, Soliarunn, complete and utter horror on his face, fell to his knees. His chest was absolutely crushed, and the blood soaked his clothing instantly.

The cloaked man suddenly shook his head a bit, as if shaking out of a daze, and as he seemed to refocus he instantly tensed upon seeing his fallen friend. Panic rushed though the man, and he dashed to Soliarunn’s side, catching him before he fully collapsed.

“Oh, stars…” the man fearfully whispered in a more mild-mannered tone. “Soliarunn, what have I done?” the tears of fluorescent water had returned, now flowing freely.

Soliarunn’s own tears as his breathing grew ragged plopped to the ground, one by one. “Anankos… okay… it’s… okay…”

The cloaked man – Anankos – began to shake. “I’ll alert Arete and Mikoto,” he sadly whispered. “Action must be taken, whether it be by them or me.”

Soliarunn’s smile was weak, and a shaky hand covered in his own blood reached up and grabbed Anankos’ shoulder. “Not your… fault…”

“I wish I could believe that. Tell me… why have you been so kind to me even in my decline? Why are you still so kind to me now? I just… killed you…” The words were filled with a pure horror only a loving friend would say them with.

Soliarunn’s laugh was weak. “If I am kind… I will die without regrets. Some... crusty old dastard taught me that.” Soliarunn used the arm resting on Anankos’ shoulder to nudge him playfully, even in light of the situation.

“This isn’t funny!” Anankos cried out. “I was wrong… kindness only brings bitter betrayal in the end.”

“No… you just need to see humanity's light once more. It's there, but... it's just hiding. Stay strong. Arete… Azura… tell them I…”

He never finished his sentence. The light left his eyes, and his head slowly drooped down. Now shaking, Anankos slowly lowered Soliarunn to the ground and his crown rolled off his head, continuing on until it hit a rock, circled back and stopped back at Anankos’ kneeing form. His breathing became ragged once more, and he quickly stood and distanced himself from the body. In the process, he pushed a hand through his hair, also inadvertently pushing back his hood.

He was fairly pale, almost in a sickly way, but it didn’t detract from his stunning appearance. His hair reached around 4 inches past his shoulders. His facial features were in perfect proportion – perhaps one of the most beautiful men Itsuki had ever laid eyes on, second only to Yashiro. His skin was flawless, not a blemish or scar in sight, and it almost glowed with radiance.

However, that radiance was almost eerie and terrifying in juxtaposition with the situation. Anankos’ smile was delirious and harried, extremely fake. Blood was smeared on his white robes, streaked in that long blue hair, pressed in handprints on his cheeks. He called up a bit of water, perhaps considering briefly to wash off the blood, before putting it back down. A shred of resolve sparking in his broken yellow eyes, he rushed to the crown and picked it up, sticking it in one of the many pockets of his cloak.

He looked to the cave opening with its weak shimmering barrier and he hesitated. Took a deep breath, body still shaking. Then, decision made, he broke into a dead run. The barrier cracked and burst outward as he rushed out of the cave with reckless abandon, and…

. . .

Itsuki’s eyes shot open, and the water shot out like a fountain as he coughed and spluttered to get it out of his lungs. He rolled over onto his side, and the water flowed into the murky pool he’d found himself next to.

He’d never seen a real person die before his eyes before. The Mirage deaths in the Idolaspheres were able to have some suspension of disbelief to them, but this was cold, hard, real death.

What the hell was that dream?

Could it have been a vision? The knowledge of the overall situation was vague, but that Anankos had spoken of the destruction of a ‘Valla.’ Perhaps that was the world of the Mirage who had asked for Itsuki’s help? There wasn't a way to know for sure quite yet, but to his memory there wasn't any mention of such a land from anyone's Mirages. The Mirage he'd spoken to had said something about echoes of actions in water; could this have been what he meant?

Anankos…

Itsuki had heard that name somewhere before.

Where?

He struggled to pull the reference from his brain, but he was still in high-gear panic mode. He could hardly form any cohesive thought. He was weak, shaking, freezing cold and soaking wet. Pain radiated through his injured shoulder.

He’d almost drowned. Itsuki didn't want to think about it for too long, but it was impossible to deny.

He couldn’t remember how long he lay there, curled up, shaking, shivering on the stone floor of the Bloom Palace. He was spurred into a little action when his phone buzzed and chimed nonstop with a barrage of withheld messages. Shakily, Itsuki retrieved his phone. It made sense that he’d gotten no signal in Navarre’s world, and its temperature-triggered battery protection must have activated when the cells had gotten too cold. Now, it flooded with messages that must have come in while Itsuki was out - he wasn't sure how long he'd walked through the tundra, both to find Navarre and to go back to the cave, so he wouldn't be surprised if he'd been there for a while longer than he'd expected to be.

-DIRECT IM: YASHIRO TSURUGI-

<6:03 AM> Yashiro Tsurugi: Just noticed you aren’t home. Getting groceries or something of the sort?

<6:05 AM> Yashiro Tsurugi: Is there any specific reason why there’s a scorch mark on the kitchen wall? Did you somehow manage to burn breakfast across the room from the stove?

<6:17 AM> Yashiro Tsurugi: Are you out with one of the others? The last day of the tour isn’t for a while, so it can’t be that. Perhaps Oribe dragged you out for crepes, or something of the like.

<7:26 AM> Yashiro Tsurugi: The others haven’t seen you all day so far, and Horinozawa says you were absent for your meeting with him. Is something wrong?

<9:50 AM> Yashiro Tsurugi: Are you alright? You haven’t even seen any of my messages today. Please give me some indication that you aren’t in danger.

<12:28 PM> Yashiro Tsurugi: Itsuki, you’re scaring me. I’ve looked all over Tokyo for you and no one has seen a sign from you since last night. Please, please be alright. I don’t know what I’ll do if you’re hurt, or…

<12:29 PM> Yashiro Tsurugi: …The Idolaspheres are active again? I just accidentally shot a stripe of fire across the living room. I didn’t see any of the portals… where could you be?

Itsuki checked the time – 12:38. He’d wasn't sure how long he'd been in Navarre's world, but 6 hours or more seemed like a little long even for the distance he'd walked. At the same time, though, having spent that long of a time unconscious didn't seem right either, especially with water in his lungs like it had been. There was no way to tell which was more correct at this point, though.

Itsuki tried to text a response, but his hands were shaking so bad he couldn’t type a word even if his mind could form a response to type.

So, he turned to the stickers and hoped they’d convey that he needed help.

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: Itsuki?! Oh, thank the gods… Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?!

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: You can’t type?  

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: Hmm… how about that crying one for no and the happy one for yes?

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: Are you safe?

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: Do you know where you are?

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: Are you okay?

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: What?! Where are you? Your location data is glitched… you wouldn’t happen to be in an Idolasphere, would you?

<12:41 PM> Yashiro Tsurugi: Is this not a yes or no answer? Try as best you can.

Itsuki tried to sort out his scrambling thoughts. How could he convey to Yashiro that he was in the Bloom Palace? There was no way he was walking out on his own.

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: …Tiki? I’m not sure I follow.

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: A rose…

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: I’m still not sure what a rose and Tiki is meant to convey.

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: That’s it, hm? A rose and Tiki. Rose…

Yashiro Tsurugi: Bloom! Are you in the Bloom Palace?

Itsuki Aoi:

Yashiro Tsurugi: On my way.

Itsuki shut off his phone, drained. His fingers had gone numb – he couldn’t remember when. His head had started pounding, his mind was scrambled and the stone felt like the perfect place to sleep.

He didn’t know how much longer he laid there, but he was just about to drift off when the flash from the front of the Palace indicated another visitor.

Itsuki couldn’t really lift his head to see who it was, but when Yashiro called “Itsuki?! Itsuki!!” relief flooded Itsuki’s mind.

Running footsteps thudded closer and closer until a shadow encroached on the edge of Itsuki’s darkening vision. “Itsuki!”

Itsuki could barely feel Yashiro lift him up, could hardly discern his horrified expression. Yashiro started saying something, and when Itsuki didn’t respond, his panic grew. After a couple more attempts, he could hear one sharp, desperate plea.

“Itsuki… please… speak to me.”

That’s when the darkness crept in all the way, and Itsuki lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

Slowly, Itsuki began to regain consciousness. Even with his eyes closed, the light was almost painfully bright. He moved his fingers slightly, even that movement hyper-sensitive to them, and felt a cushy mattress he knew all too well. He must be back in his apartment.

“…! Itsuki?!”

Yashiro’s desperation was very clear, so Itsuki pushed through the pain already rearing its ugly head in his brain and forced his eyes open slowly.

As Itsuki’s vision sharpened, Yashiro let out a relieved breath and lowered himself onto Itsuki in a hug. His hair was uncharacteristically ruffled, neglected. He looked like he’d gotten little sleep recently. “I was so worried!” His voice was fairly hoarse, the relief in his eyes turning to anger as he backed off. “You wouldn’t answer my texts and then you had to lead me to the Bloom Palace of all places to find you! You were freezing cold, wet and in shock… you never swim. You couldn’t even speak to—”

Yashiro’s tirade was cut short as his voice fizzled out, and he winced, briefly bring a hand to his neck before huffing and shaking his head. “S-Sorry,” he rasped, voice even worse off. “You know I tend to ramble. The point is… please, never do that again.”

“I-I’ll try not to,” Itsuki replied, still trying to get the last of his bearings. “It wasn’t necessarily my choice.”

Yashiro sighed, absentmindedly pulling at the blanket with his fingers. “At least tell me if you’re going to do something dangerous. I was so scared I’d driven you off, or was too invasive about what was going on, or something.” He paused. “…Was I?”

Itsuki slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, trying to make sure he didn't rush anything and accidentally hurt himself. He didn't feel hurt in any way other than his head throbbing, but the cold must have done a number on him - his bad shoulder in particular was stiffer than usual.

He raised an arm and gently pulled Yashiro's hand away from the blanket - that particular innocuous fidget can and has easily turned into a roundabout way to pick at his own nails, a harmful and unhealthy habit Yashiro had been trying to kick for quite a while now. “Absolutely not. I just wanted to spare you the trouble of dealing with my trauma. I thought I could handle it on my own, and clearly that isn’t working out for me.” A slightly broken chuckle. “So, I'm glad you pushed me to confess. If I’d truly been upset about that in the end, I would have told you – you know my feelings aren’t exactly buried these days.”

The ghost of a smile seemed to cross Yashiro's features. "I'm not sure what I did to deserve you..."

Itsuki tutted at him, shaking his head. "None of that. You deserve your happiness, and I'll remind you as many times as you need that I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to."

The ghost of a smile started to cross Yashiro's features, but as he tried to speak, all that came out was a crackled wheeze as he winced again.

Itsuki grimaced. "You really did make a mad dash across Shibuya yesterday, didn't you?"

With another frustrated huff, Yashiro wordlessly nodded, then brought out his phone to use Topic as his voice.

Yashiro Tsurugi: I'd do it all over again if it meant making sure you were alright. The scars being a little aggravated for a while is a worthy price to pay. When it comes to whether I'd been the one to chase you off or not, though, you know I can’t help worrying – none of my relationships were exactly healthy or stable pre-Fortuna. I don’t know where I’d be without you, hanahaki aside.

“How long have I been out?” Itsuki asked. “It has to have been at least a day, if your throat's flaring up from yesterday's run.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: About a day, yes. Once you passed out, I tried to figure out how I would bring you back here without alerting anyone – within the company or not. I wasn’t sure if you wanted anyone else to know just yet.

“Thank you. I did just want to get your attention for now.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: Of course, my love. I started looking through your phone for clues or ideas, since mine had died, when I noticed you were texting an ‘Akira Kurusu’ in your IMs that night. Since he seemed to know about the Idolaspheres, I contacted him and a girl answered, called herself “Sumire.” She said Akira was indisposed but that she could assist as well. I brought you out of the Bloom Palace and she met us at the office, using her own powers to transport us out without being seen. I’m… not exactly sure where she took us, but it must have been similar to an Idolasphere, since it changed us into our Carnage Forms. She managed to get us into the apartment before returning us to the real world and leaving to take care of her own business.

“Akira’s my cousin and Sumire was a childhood friend of his – though, from seeing them interact recently I have a feeling they might be a little more than friends at this point. It’s a very long story, but a Mirage came to me in my dreams the night after you proposed to me. He didn’t seem to be from the worlds our former partners were from. He begged me to help him save his world and all others from an ‘ancient power,’ as he called it; I have reason to believe that this power is a dragon, from what I’ve recently seen. He presented me with the shards of an ancient relic—” he presented the first shard to Yashiro “—that was destroyed by his predecessors the last time this power had to be sealed. It’s a long shot, but the Mirage said that he’d discovered sparks of Performa in our former partners, and if we rekindle them into usable forces, the sparks might kickstart the magic and cause the shards to fuse together. We need this relic to seal this power away. Without it, every world will be consumed and damned to eternal suffering.”

Yashiro huffed in an amused fashion.

Yashiro Tsurugi: ‘damned to eternal suffering’ sounds pretty cheesy, being honest.

Itsuki snorted. “That’s what you take away from this?”

Yashiro rolled his eyes in amusement.

Yashiro Tsurugi: Just keep going.

Itsuki chuckled softly, but obliged. “When I woke up, the first relic shard was on the bedside table. I took it and set right to work; I was hoping not to drag you or anyone else into it for as long as I could. That scorch mark on the wall in the kitchen was me – my phone charger wasn't working, so I accidentally shocked it in frustration and charged it myself. That’s how I learned the Idolaspheres were active again. I went to the office and saw the Bloom Palace empty and in that decrepit state, and soon enough a portal to another world opened. I prepared to step in when I realized that I didn’t have a sword or any healing supplies.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: And that’s where Akira Kurusu came in.

“Yeah. He and his friends have their own experiences with otherworldy combat as the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. I don’t know the details yet, but despite how differently they came about their powers, the ways they use them are strangely similar to us.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: As in, the notorious criminal Phantom Thieves that took up a lot of the media coverage from the year before our incident?

Itsuki raised his eyebrows. “No, the children’s party gig Phantom Thieves.”

Yashiro nudged him, and Itsuki laughed.

“Anyway,” he continued, “whatever kickstarted the magic that reenabled our powers and reactivated the Bloom Palace also seems to have reinstated the way they were able to steal hearts. I'm not exactly clear on how they do that yet - I'll have to ask - but essentially, we've put them back in business. We met on Central Street and he provided me with a weapon and healing supplies. They mentioned something about using ‘the collective cognition of the people’ to get here since the trains were down, so I can only assume that’s how Sumire got us back here. Akira also promised a steady weapon supply from his dealer since we would catch bad PR if any of us went for them ourselves.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: Yes, I found that rapier near you when I found you in the Bloom Palace. I’ve brought it back here.

Yashiro gestured to the corner of the room, where the rapier sat, and with a start Itsuki realized that it was still real. “Huh. It was a model when Sumire gave it to me, though she’d said it would turn to a real weapon whenever I traveled into another world. I thought that would entail it turning back to a model in the real world. Looks like I’ll need a sheath for it, then.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: I did see a portal in the Bloom Palace; I assume that’s where you were. What was in there?

“It was the world of one of our allies,” Itsuki replied. “He needs help; he’s trapped in a sub-zero tundra by a group of barbarians, from what I understand. We need to get past them in order to access the rest of the land and find the others.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: I'd feel more comfortable if you had at least a day or so to recover, but I’m with you whenever we do venture out. Should I alert everyone else?

Itsuki’s brow creased in worry. The last thing he wanted to do was to drag his friends into a fight when they’d already been through the unimaginable together. Navarre had said that they might have a fighting chance if there were 3 of them, and Yashiro fulfills that requirement. He was in too deep for Itsuki to deny his help now, but the others…

“…No,” Itsuki said. “Just us should suffice for now – I don’t want to make the others suffer unnecessarily. I’d rather keep them happy and oblivious for as long as we can.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: We can’t finish this task alone, Itsuki. I’d strongly advise alerting at least one more person.

“You can’t make me budge on this one. I was told that we’d at least have a fighting chance if there were three of us, and even if you hadn’t found out yourself I would have picked you.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: …Fine. But we turn tail and call more help at the first sign of being outmatched.

“I’ll accept that.”

Yashiro smiled.

Yashiro Tsurugi: Hypocrite.

“You know you love me.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: Results inconclusive. Try asking later.

Itsuki laughed and nudged Yashiro, who let out a few wheezing laughs of his own. “Alright, you comedian - let's start drafting out what we'll need to bring when we do go. I’ll cancel your public vocal performances for the next day or two – we won’t be able to avoid any appearances at all, but we can make sure you won’t have to speak while it's still painful.” As Yashiro nodded and stood, making for the door so he could presumably grab something to write with, Itsuki turned to his phone.

-DIRECT IM: AKIRA KURUSU-

Itsuki Aoi: I need a katana.

Akira Kurusu: What, no hello or how was your day? You must be coming down with something

Itsuki Aoi: As much as I love your banter, I almost drowned yesterday. I’m not in the best condition for small talk.

Akira Kurusu: You getting near water again is the more shocking thing here. Care to share?

Itsuki Aoi: Not right now. I’ve been out cold for the last day and I’m already drained.

Itsuki Aoi: Though, when I am available for sharing again, I’d like to hear the story of how you and Sumire finally got together. Heard you were ‘indisposed’ when Yashiro called your phone and Sumire answered. Interesting...

Akira Kurusu: ….now listen

Itsuki Aoi: Only teasing. It’s not my place to peek at your love interests.

Akira Kurusu: I’d thank you kindly not to. It wasn’t like that in that particular case anyway, it was the middle of the day and I was working

Itsuki Aoi: In that particular case? Very interesting indeed.

Akira Kurusu: shit

Itsuki Aoi: I’m happy for you, at any rate.

Akira Kurusu: …Thanks.

Akira Kurusu: Anyway, I’m not sure if Iwai still stocks katanas… they’re a fairly niche weapon. I can check

Itsuki Aoi: Thanks. We’ll need it soon.

Chapter Text

“…and thus, I am pleased to announce that Maiko Shimazaki will be returning to the Fortuna family in the form of a loose partnership,” Itsuki finished.

The applause was filled with vigor as Maiko stepped up onto the stage. Itsuki reached out for a handshake, but Maiko shook her head with a heartfelt smile and wrapped him in a hug.

Several camera shutters flashed. Itsuki knew there would be outrageous tabloid headlines about Maiko Shimazaki getting up-close and personal with the company president tomorrow morning, but he didn’t care.

The rest of the press meeting passed by in a flash, and before he knew it he was out on the floor with Yashiro, being swarmed by reporters.

“Aoi-san!” A woman in the back called. “What exactly did you mean by a ‘loose partnership’ in terms of Shimazaki-san’s return?”

“Well, she’ll still be counted under Fortuna’s umbrella of employees,” Itsuki began. “She’ll just be arranging her own meetings and projects rather than potential employers needing to go through me to get to her, as per her request. We’ll also be fully funding her newest endeavor with Nobu Horinozawa and any future projects she may wish to start.”

“Tsurugi-san!” A stocky man somewhere to their right. “Your newest song ‘Dressed in Black, Wreathed in White’ has shot straight up to the top of the charts! Our viewers are dying to know – what inspired such raw and emotion-evoking lyrics? The most common rumor we've seen is a possible recent experience with death in the family, but those are conjecture at best. Mind setting the record straight? Your pure emotion in each word speaks to a personal experience driving them!”

Yashiro gave a polite smile, but he put a hand to his throat with an apologetic expression.

“Tsurugi-san is on vocal rest currently,” Itsuki explained, the rehearsed lie cycling through his brain like clockwork. “He's in the midst of a rather strenuous role in a project that hasn't been announced yet – I’m afraid that’s all we can indulge legally for now. He simply needs to conserve his voice to preserve his vocal health.”

The crowd of reporters gave an almost comical ‘aww’ in disappointment. “C’mon, can’t you give us something about this mystery project, at least?”

Yashiro pressed a hand to his mouth to mime laughing silently, then gave a shrug as if to say, it can’t be helped.

That was the trick to dealing with the press – be close enough to banter with them, but not so close you spill all your secrets.

“Any more questions?” Itsuki asked.

A barrage of shouted questions buzzed forward, clambering to be heard, until Itsuki picked a stout woman in the front.

“Aoi-san, we know who you’re usually wearing, but that bracelet on your wrist looks new,” she remarked. “I, er, can’t say I’ve seen anything like it.”

Itsuki looked down at his wrist to see that the relic shard – which he had fashioned into a makeshift bracelet so he could keep it close to him at all times – had fallen out from beneath the cuff of his suit. Luckily, he’d prepared a lie for this, too.

“Oh, this? It belonged to my sister, actually. When we were kids, she found this piece of alabaster on the beach and fastened it to this chain. It was her most precious possession for years – only the gods know why. She died unexpectedly a little over five years ago, and I just recently found it, so I've been wearing it in her memory. This is just the first event where it's slipped out of my sleeve,” he chuckled lightly.

The media’s energy deflated a bit, and Itsuki inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. They wouldn’t be too keen on pressing many more questions to a man in mourning.

The remaining questions were prompt, and when the press finally cleared out and all the business partners finally left, Itsuki was ready to pass out all over again. He’d been pinballing around the room, talking nonstop between making a good impression on all the business partners and hanging out with his friends and sticking as close to Yashiro as he dared in public company.

“I think the impression we left was a good one,” Itsuki sighed to his friends. “I’m more than ready to go home, though. I'm exhausted.”

Tsubasa chuckled, though Itsuki could spot the weariness in her eyes as well. “Such is the life,” she replied.

Itsuki crossed the room to his briefcase and retrieved it; in the process he took off his suit jacket to stay cooler. The heat wave was starting to die down, but the room was still much too hot for his tastes. “Well, we should get going before the trains stop.”

“One more thing,” Touma interjected. He’d never brought a suit jacket to begin with, but even still he tugged at his shirt collar like he was trying to air out the shirt in the sweltering heat. “There were some projected sales numbers on a new product one of the marketing agencies wanted you to review and get back to them on. I think they left them in the conference room off to the side there.” He pointed to a door at the other end of the press room.

“Right – thanks.” Itsuki crossed over to the door, unaware that most of his crew was following behind.

When he opened the door, he was met not with paperwork, but with Kiria and Mamori standing on either side of the long table. A simple chocolate cake sat in the middle, looking as if it had been made with the Mamorin touch.

“Happy birthday, Itsuki!”

Itsuki jumped as everyone around him cheered. Maiko and Barry led him to a seat at the head of the table, and that’s when he remembered.

July 30. It was his birthday, and he’d entirely forgotten.

His phone pinged.

Yashiro Tsurugi: I wanted to do something special for you. You’ve worked so hard to lift everyone up ever since you stepped up to fill Maiko’s old position, and in these past weeks you’ve taken it above and beyond. You deserve a little attention on your day - I know it isn't much, but considering everything that's been going on recently, I figure you'd be happy with just about anything.

Itsuki laughed incredulously. “I… I don’t know what to say. I forgot it was my own birthday.”

“Maybe a ‘thank you?’” Ellie joked, prompting a laugh from Itsuki. “…I’m just kidding, though. You really deserve this.”

“Tomorrow, you’re going to take a day off,” Mamori told Itsuki. “No buts. You’ve done so much for us, but none of us can remember the last day you weren’t working. So, this is our present to you. This isn't a suggestion, either.”

Itsuki sighed wearily. “Mamori, I—”

“No buts,” she interrupted steadfastly. “I may not be able to light myself on fire anymore to make a point, but we’re not budging on this.”

Please, please don’t try, Itsuki thought. You might get an unpleasant surprise.

“I have meetings and appointments tomorrow.”

“They’ve all been moved,” said Kiria. “I checked your schedule before we left and Touma pretended to be you over the phone as we moved them. Everyone seemed pretty convinced.”

Itsuki’s mouth hung open in a smile for a few seconds, floored, then laughed. “You guys really have all your bases covered.”

“We also made sure it coincided with a day Yashiro had off,” Tsubasa added with a smirk. “You guys finally have a day to spend together.”

“I’m locking the lesson studio, too,” Barry interjected. “We can’t have you trying to practice when we want you to relax!”

“If anything urgent comes up during the day tomorrow, I'll be your proxy,” Maiko said. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

Itsuki tried to find another point of protest, but everyone fixed him with a look. Finally, he deflated. “Fine,” he conceded. “I won’t do anything work-related tomorrow.”

“Great!” Tsubasa cheered. “Now, let’s light these candles.”

She brought out a very worn matchbox and retrieved a match, but she struck it many times to no avail. The sides of the box were well-used and it was likely they couldn’t spark a match anymore. Getting angry, Tsubasa tried to strike it faster and faster but then Yashiro stepped in. With one strike of the match against the side of the box, it lit perfectly; Itsuki realized that he must have discretely used his powers.

As Yashiro lit the candles on the cake, Tsubasa looked on in wonder. “You make that look so easy! How did you do it?”

Finished with lighting the candles, Yashiro retrieved his phone and typed in a response for Itsuki to read.

Yashiro Tsurugi: You just need the right angle. These cheaper matches can be finicky at times.

Tsubasa scoffed. “I tried every which way and nothing happened, so you must have the magic touch.”

Yashiro, who had started sipping one of the many glasses of water on the table, almost spit it at those words. He chuckled to cover it up, and the others thankfully seemed to buy it.

Itsuki, chuckling with him, fixed Yashiro with a look, then texted a response.

Itsuki Aoi: You do know how close you are to blowing the whole thing, right?

Yashiro snorted – a sight that was rare for even Itsuki to see.

Yashiro Tsurugi: Don’t take that out of context.

Itsuki Aoi: You know what I meant, dork.

Yashiro Tsurugi: Hmm… later, then.

This time it was Itsuki’s turn to choke on his drink. His face turned a beet red. Yashiro couldn’t stop a full-bodied laugh, and the sound was raspy yet improving.

Ellie raised her eyebrows. “What’s the big deal, you guys?”

“Nothing,” Itsuki said too fast.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Touma countered, snatching Itsuki’s phone. He read the texts, then burst into laughter.

Ellie, who had taken Yashiro’s phone and done the same, read the texts out loud, and everyone else lost it.

Touma had gone red in the face with laughter, and once he finally inhaled a big gulp of air again it made him cough a bit. He instinctually covered his mouth but put his hand down when it didn’t become a big fit. With his laughter broken, he returned his attention to Itsuki, an amused smile now on his face. “What were you actually talking about when you said Yashiro could ‘blow the whole thing,’ out of curiosity?”

The mood shifted fast enough to give Itsuki whiplash, and panic alarms started blaring in his head. They were all going to know that the Idolaspheres were back, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Itsuki could see Yashiro’s own mind spinning, spinning, figuring out how he was going to mitigate the damage as he peeled his eyes away from where they had been lingering on Touma. Then, his eyes lit up with an idea. He tried to clear his throat as best he could, trying not to wince too much.

“Damn,” Yashiro rasped. “I guess I lost that bet.”

“What bet?” asked Kiria.

Itsuki’s mind was still spiraling, unable to formulate a response, so he pleaded to Yashiro with his eyes to continue.

“You see,” Yashiro continued, “The real reason I’ve lost my voice is due to the other day, when I was frantically asking around for Itsuki’s location and running around the city; my expulsion scars haven't been taking the strain very well. That day turned out to be a big misunderstanding, as Itsuki had been going around town to gather flowers and chocolate to surprise me. I’d gone practically hysterical worrying that something I'd pushed him on recently had caused him to leave, but when all was cleared up and Itsuki reassured me that he was okay, that I hadn't done a thing to cause it... well, hearing how incredibly heartfelt he was, I figured that was the best time to do it.”

The details were heavily obfuscated, but it dawned on Itsuki what Yashiro was trying to do – he was spinning the promise ring as the surprise, since nobody had seemed to notice it yet.

So, Itsuki raised his ring up for everyone to see. “He was a spluttering, disheveled mess… but he still managed to propose. We can’t get it recognized here, but this is enough for us. We’d bet on how long it would take for any of you who didn’t already know to find out, and thanks to this, I won.”

And the room went wild.

Tsubasa started screaming, jumping up and down. “We have to set up a fake ceremony!”

Touma wrapped an arm around Itsuki’s shoulders. “It's about time!" he cheered almost too loudly. "I am totally your best man whether you like it or not,” he joked.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Itsuki corroborated.

Kiria only chuckled. “Yashiro was agonizing about what kind of ring to buy for weeks, and then he held onto the ring for weeks longer. I’m glad he finally grew a pair and popped the question. If neither of you object to a fake ceremony, I suppose I’ll best-woman for Yashiro, yes?”

"Correct," Yashiro confirmed.

Ellie’s determined fire sparked in her eyes. “You guys better let me be the ring bearer!”

Mamori’s eyes were filled with a childlike wonder. “I can be the flower girl!”

“If one of you wants to walk down an aisle, I can give you away,” Barry offered with a proud smile.

“I’m legally ordained!” Maiko cheered. When everyone looked to her in question, it took her entirely too long to add, "It was a wild wrap party for a photoshoot on the Caribbean Islands. Don't ask."

“You guys…” Itsuki’s heart had never felt fuller in his life. “I think this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

. . .

-GROUP IM: LAMP OIL, ROPE, BOMBS-

Itsuki Aoi: First of all, I hate this chat name.

Itsuki Aoi: Second, when the hell was this created?

Akira Kurusu: First of all, fuck you, this is a classic

Akira Kurusu: Second, Sumire tells me that she and Tsurugi exchanged our contacts when you were knocked out cold. Figured today I should make a group chat so it would be easier to communicate weapon needs. I assume the katana is for him?

Yashiro Tsurugi: Yes, thank you.

Akira Kurusu: Sick. I finally found one, when can you pick it up?

Yashiro Tsurugi: When is convenient for you? I’m free all night; I am taking tomorrow as a day to spend with Itsuki, but if it has to be done tomorrow it shouldn’t take long to get there and back, yes?

Akira Kurusu: Not at all – I know how important time with the s/o is. Central Street tonight, the alleyway just outside the gym. Look for a guy underneath a flickering streetlight, he’ll have the katana on him so he should be easy to spot

Yashiro Tsurugi: The streetlights don’t flicker, though. The lighting fixtures’ power is diverted to a secondary generator if it starts to wane.

Akira Kurusu: We have our ways. Be there at midnight

. . .

Yashiro got off the last train with the rest of the Fortunites that lived in the city; he knew it wouldn’t look too suspicious, as the others knew he pretty much lived at Itsuki's place these days unless he was being tailed by paparazzi. When questioned why he was headed back toward Central Street, a quick message to the group chat claiming having forgotten something at the office pacified everyone quickly. Itsuki tossed Yashiro his keys to complete the illusion, and everyone split off.

Yashiro had never been to the public gym on Central Street – he’d always had a private one in his family home growing up, and even then he’d hardly had time, and eventually the will, to use it. Itsuki never had any sort of exercise equipment in his apartment, either. By the time he'd gotten out and purchased a small apartment of his own on the other side of the city to keep up the appearance of remaining single, his focus had been more on recovering from the poor physical and mental state he'd fallen into. These days he practically didn't go into the place, and selling it had even crossed his mind a couple of times. So, when he turned the corner and saw the well-kept sign to the gym, he kept a mental note to explore this gym on his own free time later.

As promised, a man stood hunched beneath the shadows of the streetlight across from the entrance. The streetlight flickered, and the small sparks of electricity shorting the lamp jumped around the man’s form every once in a while; just enough to make it seem like a trick of the light, should a normal person walk through. His spiked hair was bleached, but it clearly hadn’t been touched up in a while, as it was nearly halfway grown out with the man’s original black hair. One of his legs seemed like it was bent a little oddly, but it could have easily been the shadows playing along his form; regardless, it was none of Yashiro's business. A model katana leaned against the brick wall with him, its black sheath decorated with pale blue flowers.

Yashiro approached the man, and he looked up with wary and distrustful hazel eyes.

“You looking for someone?” the man asked. As if responding to his wariness, the electric currents increased, and he accidentally blew the streetlight out.

The alleyway was plunged into darkness, and the man sighed. “For real? I swear, community maintenance needs to pay more attention to this part of the grid.”

With little hesitation, Yashiro snapped his fingers and allowed a small flame to kindle in his palm, casting a dim wavering light over the two of them.

The Zio-using man’s eyebrows lifted in appraisal, amused. “Fire-user, eh? Convenient.”

Yashiro nodded curtly.

“Are you mute?”

He waved his hand side to side – Something like that. Then he retrieved his phone and waved it, hoping the man would get the message to exchange Topic IDs.

A terse nod, followed by the retrieval of a yellow-cased phone. The phones found each other, and the public profile of a man by the name of Ryuji Sakamoto crossed Yashiro’s screen.

“Holy shit,” the man remarked. “Yashiro Tsurugi as in the Yashiro Tsurugi?”

When Yashiro nodded, the man gave a surprised “Huh. Small world. My boyfriend is a huge fan. Always talks about how he was in the same year as you at Kosei, just in the painting track rather than theater.”

A polite smile crossed Yashiro’s face, and he began to type in a response.

Yashiro Tsurugi: Thank you, Sakamoto. Forgive my lack of speech - the short version is that I had a relapse in an illness that caused me to lose my voice.

“Ah.” Ryuji gave a knowing nod. “Hanahaki’s a bitch, innit?”

Yashiro’s eyes widened.

Yashiro Tsurugi: How could you tell?

Ryuji smiled. “It’s this look in your eye, like you’ve seen the bullshit being punished for love can bring. It’s a look I know all too well – my dork had me spitting up Lilies of the Valley for months. Way too hard to fight Shadows like that. Hell, it was a miracle the poison didn’t kill me first.”

Yashiro let out a rush of air through his nose – the closest he could get to a voiceless laugh.

Yashiro Tsurugi: It was rather difficult to fight in such a manner. Though, I would appreciate it if this was kept out of the public eye; my partner and I have so far succeeded in keeping things private, and we wish to keep it that way as long as we can.

Ryuji chuckled. “Of course. I can't imagine how stressed I'd be if people with cameras n' shit were watching my every move because of who I was dating. Glad to find someone else who knows what I mean about fighting with hanahaki, though.”

Yashiro Tsurugi: Likewise. At any rate, I assume that’s the promised katana?

Ryuji seemed to start a little at the katana in his hand, as if he’d forgotten that’s what he was here for. “Ah – yeah.” He raised the katana toward Yashiro, who took it and unsheathed it. He swung it in the air a few times, then resheathed it, satisfied.

Yashiro Tsurugi: Very fine quality – this will serve well. Send Kurusu my regards.

“I will. Will I see you around?”

Yashiro Tsurugi: You seem alright. I have no qualms about meeting for leisure in the future.

Ryuji gave a thumbs up. “Sick. I’ve gotta get going, but we’ll definitely keep in touch!”

He walked off, a slight hitch in his gait, and opened the same navigator Yashiro had seen Sumire use the other night. The world flashed purple again, and he faded into nothing. As he did so, the secondary grid for the streetlamp above kicked in, and the light clicked on steadily again.

Looping the katana through his belt, Yashiro started toward Itsuki’s apartment.

Chapter Text

“Itsuki.”

“Itsuki…”

A hand gently caressed Itsuki’s face, and he slowly opened his eyes to see Yashiro’s loving gaze, to whom the slightly raspy voice belonged to.

“Morning,” Itsuki yawned. “What time is it?”

“Nearly 8 AM,” Yashiro replied. “You were doing a lot less tossing and turning last night. How were your dreams?”

Itsuki almost panicked and jumped out of bed to get ready and make up for lost time in the office, but then he remembered – this was his mandated day off. “…Not as bad as usual,” Itsuki replied. “How’s your throat? Any better?”

“Good. I think it’s calmed down, for the most part.”

“Great.” Itsuki slowly got up and moved to the kitchen, only now just noticing the long diagonal scorch mark on the floor and of the adjacent living room. He snorted. “Got a little upset the other day, did we?”

Yashiro made a questioning noise, following Itsuki until he too spotted the living room and chuckled. “Upset is an understatement. I was left to wonder if you were alive or dead, or whether I’d driven you off. I think nearly setting your apartment on fire is a little justified.”

Itsuki laughed and put a hand on Yashiro’s shoulder. “Now, I want you to stop and think about that sentence for a bit. How would that sound to someone out of context?”

Yashiro tried to stave off his own laughter, but ultimately failed. “You’re not wrong.”

Itsuki shook his head and turned to look at the ingredients in the fridge, see what he could make for breakfast. As he did so, he could hear Yashiro walking into the living room and turning on the TV. The technochatter filled the home as Itsuki started snatching his chosen ingredients, switching from a few reality shows to some gossip about yesterday’s press conference and eventually settling on the one news channel Itsuki could tolerate – where an astonished news report headlined Japan’s famous Phantom Thieves have returned after 6 years of silence?! brought a smile to his face.

Time passed in blissful silence for a while until breakfast was finished and Itsuki joined Yashiro in the living room. The news was dissecting and avidly discussing an electronic calling card apparently broadcast around Shibuya last night, the Thieves celebrating their explosive return as the card was addressed to some TV studio executive Itsuki had always thought to be shady, but Yashiro didn’t seem to be paying attention.

He accepted his plate, then sighed. “I know this isn’t something I should be letting you think about on your day off, but… last night you mentioned a sister as part of the lie about the relic shard, and your tone was so genuine that I have to know if that was true.”

Itsuki sat next to him, placing his own plate on the coffee table. With the turn of the conversation, he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “…Yes. I did have an older sister, and she did die around five-and-a-half years ago. Obviously she didn’t find the relic, but the rest is true. She was practically my other half, growing up. For years we’d practically live in the water, collecting rocks and shells and greeting the wildlife. It was the way we’d bonded.”

Yashiro’s brow creased in concern. “I thought you were deathly afraid of water.”

“I am. I never said it wasn’t dangerous. The currents tried to sweep us away at every single opportunity, and there were a number of times we had to cut our exploration short because we could practically feel the ocean’s anger. Well… one day when I was 15 and she was 16, a whirlpool tried to suck me down into a sinkhole and squeeze the air out of me. It took all of Sayaka’s strength to pull me out, and we never swam again after that. I was so close to dying.”

Yashiro gave Itsuki a hug, but said nothing – whether it was because he couldn’t think of something to say or felt there was nothing to say, Itsuki didn’t know.

Once he was released, Itsuki continued. “Almost 2 years later, we discovered that Saya was born to a different father than me. Our mother had never intended to tell her. They blew up in a huge fight, not because it happened but because Mom planned to keep it from her for the rest of her life. That night she swore she’d run out on us to find him, but I didn't believe it until I caught her on her way out with a packed bag. I tried to dissuade her, but she rounded on me next. How she thought I was on her side, and my trying to keep her down snuffed out any chance of her coming back. ‘The only way I’ll ever come back to this house will be in a body bag,’ she’d screamed. Then, she was gone. If only she knew how right she was.”

“You said her name was Sayaka, correct?” Yashiro asked. “Sayaka Aoi… I’ve heard that name somewhere before.”

Itsuki sighed. “Was it in the news? Maybe a few months before the One of Millennium incident?”

Yashiro snapped his fingers, a spark of flame shooting between them inadvertently. “That sounds about right.”

“Yeah… a number of news stations reported on her sudden drowning without permission from me or the authorities; that’s why this is about the only station I can listen to anymore, since they were given the opportunity to report on it but chose to respect our privacy. Someone found a motorcycle in a ditch on the side of the road, just past Inaba Pass. I wasn't even aware she knew how to ride... it was headed back in this direction, though. They did some investigating and found her body floating in the river. Looked like it’d been there for a day or two.”

“Did they find any evidence as to what happened?”

“Absolutely nothing. They couldn't find any evidence proving that she'd lost control and fallen from the bike, so they suggested she pulled over and walked off the bridge of her own volition. It was ruled a suicide and closed, but I don’t believe that. I can’t. I knew her for most of my life – I know for a fact that she's too stubborn to die at her own hand. If she ever got that low she would push on with her life just to spite the gods." A broken chuckle. "It's just a gut instinct, if anything. I have no idea why she went back into the water after what happened, but I can tell you she didn’t go in there intending to die.”

Yashiro made an acknowledging noise. “Do any of the others know about this?”

“Touma and Tsubasa know she’s dead, but no one else in our group even knows she exists.”

“I see." A pause. "Why did you go back in the water the other day? It clearly didn’t do you any favors.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Itsuki replied. “My only way out of the other world was through a pool of water; I think this relic operates through the use of it. I was thrashed around pretty hard, and I passed out when I hit my head on the current wall. When I came to in the Bloom Palace there was so much water in my lungs… by all intents and purposes I should have drowned.”

“And you said you could have been laying there for as long as 6 hours?”

“Yes, but there’s no guarantee. I'm not even sure how long I was in the other world for, but it had to have been a little while, at least.”

Yashiro frowned. “Still, regardless of how long you spent unconscious, the big question is… how the hell did you live that long with water in your lungs?”

“I wish I knew,” Itsuki said. “I’ve always been able to hold my breath for inhumanly long times underwater, but breathing it is an entirely different story.”

Yashiro sighed, and Itsuki could practically see the cogs in his head turning. “The way you describe your experience in water doesn’t sound very natural. Does this happen in pools or anything of the sort?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never been in anything like that to test it. The ocean itself with its ecosystem and wildlife was what always captivated me, and once I almost died in it I couldn't even bring myself to swim in a pool. I haven't even been in a bath in years - just showers the whole time. You wouldn't be able to drag me into a bathhouse kicking and screaming.”

“And this happens with everyone in your family?”

“As far as I know. Saya had the same issues, and my mom never liked swimming either. My dad didn’t seem to have any issues, nor did my grandparents on his side, so I think it’s something out of my mom’s line. My aunt Haneko – my mom’s sister – disappeared when I was around seven or eight; she was last seen on an island cruise along the coast of Japan, so the water could easily have taken her, and that's what the police deduced too. I'm told she was quite the alcoholic, so the consensus was that she'd had a little much to drink and fallen overboard. There's no way to know what really happened, though - no camera footage, nothing. I’d seen her so little over the years that I have no idea what she looked like anymore. As for the rest of my family, I don’t know.”

Yashiro looked concerned. “This isn’t normal, Itsuki. We should keep an eye on this, see if we can find a cause.”

“Later, though. This is supposed to be my day off, remember?” Itsuki jabbed with a teasing smile, but it quickly faded as something crossed his mind. “You know, that reminds me of something I wanted to check, but I don’t remember what it is…”

Itsuki’s brain began to turn. What about his water struggles sounded familiar to what he’d wanted to research? It was something that spawned when he’d returned from Navarre’s world, something he’d seen that had seemed familiar to him. What was it?

Then it hit him. The man from that dream had been able to control water.

Itsuki bounded upward and toward his bookshelf, scrambling through the books until he found the right one – Askrian Mythology.

As Itsuki plopped the thick book onto the dining table and started flipping through the pages, Yashiro peered over his shoulder. “Askrian Mythology? What brought you to this?”

“When I was knocked out in the Bloom Palace the other day,” Itsuki explained, “I had a vision. A medieval king was in a pool-filled cave trying to reason with a cloaked man who could control water and seemed to be going insane. He went on and on about how he and his lover saw visions of the destruction of a land called Valla, done at the man’s hand. The cloaked man killed the king with water in a fit of hysteria, then ran off, presumably to warn the king’s family, from what he’d been saying. I remember reading this when I was younger, being infatuated with the Askrian gods and their tales, and I think the cloaked man is in it.”

Finally, Itsuki found the page. A rough colorless sketch of a shadowy cloaked man with long hair peeking out and bright glowing eyes, labeled ‘Anankos of Valla: 2^nd Conduit to the Silent Dragon Dolhr.’

“Him,” Itsuki confirmed, pointing to his sketch.

Yashiro took the book for himself and read the small blurb beneath the sketch. “‘Anankos of Valla is perhaps one of the most infamous conduits of Dohlr; he lost control of the Silent Dragon multiple times over the course of his reign. He very nearly destroyed the kingdoms of Valla, Hoshido and Nohr multiple times and was forced to be subdued by his own descendants. The use of his bloodline’s water manipulation proved quite lethal, killing the 1,001^st King Vallamus Soliarunn of Valla among countless scores of Hoshidan, Nohrian and Vallite soldiers and citizens.’”

“This man has to be very important to what’s going on,” Itsuki remarked. “That Mirage had said that his world had been ravaged before, and now he doesn’t think it will recover. None of our own Mirages mentioned a ‘Valla’ at any point once they regained their memories, so I think it’s safe to assume that it’s the unknown world this Mirage hails from.”

“You know more about this than I do, so I’ll take your word for it.”

Itsuki shut the book and sighed. “I know it’s our day off, but… it’s the perfect day to go to the other world without worrying about a previous commitment to follow through with, and technically I said I wouldn’t do anything work-related. The mystery is eating at me.”

Yashiro looked ready to protest, but then he deflated a bit. “…As much as I want to advocate for your rest, I can’t deny your statement, nor the fact that I’m itching to get back into the fray myself. Just this once, I’ll indulge you.”

Itsuki shot to his feet. “Perfect. We just need to bring a couple of things.”

. . .

“I still don’t understand why we need such thick winter gear.”

“Trust me – without it I almost froze to death.”

Yashiro huffed, winter coat in his arms as they snuck up the stairwell to the office building. They'd had to wait until night fell and the office was empty, as during the day there was almost always someone milling around. Itsuki bounded inside and straight into the Bloom Palace before he could be tempted to sit at his desk and try to fill out any paperwork. Yashiro was quick to follow, and they both appeared on the other side together.

“It's rather disheartening to see this place in such a state,” Yashiro remarked. “Do you know why this has happened?”

“No. It was like this when I first arrived; I rushed in in without thinking hoping Tiki would be here. The mural’s changed, too – the left shows Chrom and his party fighting a dragon, and I think the right shows our mystery Mirage fighting an ominous face – which I have to assume is the ancient power we’re fighting.”

“This makes little sense. Why desecrate the Bloom Palace? It holds no visible significance.”

Itsuki sighed. “I don’t know, but I don't think tackling every mystery at once is a great idea. Let’s just start on what we’ve been asked to do and go from there. I'm sure a lot of this will make sense as we go.”

Itsuki led him to the portal, but stopped him short.

“Before we go in,” Itsuki started. “I want to give you one last chance to back out and spare yourself any pain. I have a feeling that if we continue, we might be injuring and killing real people – not Mirages. This is the only path I have left to take, but you’re technically not involved yet – you could support from the sidelines.”

“Absolutely not,” Yashiro replied without hesitation, putting his hands on Itsuki’s shoulders. “If you think I’m going to abandon you, then you must be an imposter pretending to be my fiancé.”

Itsuki raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was already your husband?”

“Well, if the others seem so keen on throwing a fake ceremony, I figured we should draw it back to make it seem more real. If you don’t like that, then I can continue calling you ‘husband.’”

“No, I don’t mind,” Itsuki replied. “I was just caught off-guard, is all. You’re sure you’re willing to go through with this? With putting yourself in danger?”

Yashiro brought his head closer to Itsuki’s and their foreheads touched. “Itsuki, I was in more danger when I was fighting Mirages with almost no lung capacity. There’s not a doubt in my mind. I’d do it all again if it meant helping you.”

Itsuki planted a chaste kiss on Yashiro’s cheek, then turned to the portal. “In that case… let's go.”

Chapter Text

Whoosh.

The cold closed in like sharp daggers, and Itsuki instantly donned his winter coat to avoid any major incident like last time. He turned to Yashiro, watching him do the same. "See what I mean?"

"Painfully so," Yashiro sighed, breath visible in the chilled air, and looked around Navarre’s cave. He wasn’t here. “Where are we, anyway?”

“That, I’m not entirely sure – all I know is it’s very cold and the tundra extends pretty far.”

Yashiro rolled his eyes. “I meant ‘whose cave is this'. It’s obviously lived in, no matter how sparsely.”

“Ah. I think you’ll like the answer; it’s a little fitting that you were the first person to find out about all this, because—”

The furious scream of a man echoed from the outside. “TRAITOR!!”

Itsuki tensed. Navarre’s Soothsires must have discovered him.

He bolted for the outside, searching for the sounds of battle. The crunching snow behind him indicated Yashiro was quick on his heels.

He’d gone a fair bit of distance from the cave when finally multiple figures showed themselves in the distance. Four stocky men circled a lean figure hunched over his sword – Navarre.

“Traitor… Traitor…” The man in the middle wouldn’t say anything else, and the others remained mute. As Itsuki bounded closer, he noticed there was something… off about the group of bandits. Their eyes were glazed over, similar to the effect of when Aversa had closed Ayaha’s ears. Some sort of purple flame lazily circled their bodies.

The bandits finally noticed Itsuki and Yashiro, and they all looked up at them. Navarre also looked back when he heard the ring of the couple’s swords coming out of their sheaths. His nose was cracked to the side and blood dripped down from his nostrils, but despite it all he begrudgingly smiled.

“Damn Lords…” he muttered. “Always know how to make an entrance.”

The bandits moved their attention back to Navarre, seemingly uncaring of Itsuki and Yashiro’s presence. One of them cried out in anger and tried to swing his axe towards Navarre, but almost faster than Itsuki could blink Yashiro had blocked it. He activated his fire and let the fames lick around the blade. The flames traveled down the axe and to the bandit’s hand, who now cried in pain and dropped his weapon. One quick slash of the sword to his legs left him temporarily down, and together Itsuki and Yashiro turned to Navarre and dragged him into the snowstorm to buy time.

“What happened?” Itsuki asked, rifling through his pockets for healing supplies.

Navarre chuckled, though the sound was edged with an ironic tone that betrayed his distaste for the situation. “Your speech moved me, Aoi. I thought I’d be able to take them myself if I attracted one at a time, but something’s wrong with them. Attracting one called the others right to me like a hivemind, and I was quickly felled. To take a page from Akagi and Yumizuru’s book, I was a ‘dumbass.’ Er… I think I used that term correctly…”

“I’d say so,” Yashiro sighed. “I can’t say this is how I pictured it, but it’s nice to see you again, Navarre.”

“Likewise, Yashiro.”

Itsuki found a Bead in his supplies and faced Navarre. “I have a Bead for you, but first we need to set your nose. This is going to hurt.”

Yashiro held the sides of Navarre’s head steady and Itsuki snapped his nose back into place, but the Myrmidon hardly flinched.

“I can’t say I’m surprised you have a high pain tolerance,” Yashiro said.

“You children have no idea what I’ve experienced,” Navarre replied. “That was nothing.”

Itsuki rolled his eyes as he gave Navarre the bead and his wounds and bruises healed. “Yeah, quit being tough. I get enough of that from this idiot,” he joked, jabbing a thumb at Yashiro.

An amused huff of air from Navarre as he swiped the blood from his mouth and chin. “Glad to see you’re both still going strong.”

“I’d be dead if we weren’t,” Yashiro reminded him.

“Ah – right. ‘Hanahaki disease,’ you called it?” Navarre replied.

“Yes,” Itsuki said, “but maybe this is a conversation best had when there aren’t bandits trying to kill us?”

“You’re not incorrect,” Navarre agreed, “but I’m not entirely sure there’s a way out of this. Whatever’s happened to the Soothsires drove their strength to unimaginable levels; there’s no way we’ll be able to brute-force our way through anymore. We need a new plan.”

“There isn’t anything else we can do,” Yashiro countered. “From what Itsuki’s told me, you’re trapped here unless you can do something about these bandits. Now that they’ve discovered your place of hiding, we can’t exactly retreat to form a plan.”

Bing…

Itsuki started. It was almost too quiet to hear, but the relic shard was emitting that same note again. Neither Yashiro nor Navarre had noticed, still trying to talk out their next move.

Itsuki moved the wrist the shard was fastened to back in the direction of Navarre’s cave, and the note got louder.

How does that make sense?

Itsuki’s brow furrowed before it dawned on him.

If he and Yashiro could come here as they pleased… what stopped Navarre from returning with them?

“We may still have a safe place to strategize,” Itsuki interjected, stopping both Myrmidons in their tracks. “What’s to say Navarre can’t come back with us?”

“What’s to say I won’t be turned back into a Mirage?” Navarre shot back. “As much as I’m grateful to have met all of you, being confined to a ghostly form in an otherworldly dimension was rather horrifying.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Yashiro said. “We don’t have many other viable options.”

Navarre moved to protest again but then an angered cry called out through the tundra. The four silhouettes of the bandits started to form in the blizzard. They hadn’t spotted the group yet, but they would if their group didn’t make a move right now.

Navarre, who had turned to look at the bandits as well, finally turned around with an irritated expression. "This better be worth the risk," he murmured as he sped off towards his cave.

Itsuki, taking that as an agreement, followed on his heels with Yashiro close behind. Relying on the pinging of the relic shard whenever they lost Navarre in the storm, they eventually got back to the cave. Navarre gathered his weapon maintenance items, but left everything else in the cavern alone.

“How is this supposed to work?” Yashiro asked Itsuki. “The last time you returned, it’s a miracle you didn’t die.”

“I have no idea,” Itsuki sighed, his voice growing more anxious as he stared at the small pool in the back. “I just jump in, but I don’t know how you’re both supposed to come back with me.”

“It’s just a pool of water,” Navarre remarked. “I don’t understand how it transports you back. There’s nothing indicative of a portal.”

Itsuki’s brow furrowed. “You guys can’t see it glowing?”

Yashiro’s inherently-narrow eyes narrowed even further, and Navarre’s own followed suit in an almost uncanny way.

“No,” Yashiro replied, his response lengthened to illustrate his skepticism.

Itsuki made a thoughtful noise and looked at the pond again. In the process, he brushed his hand against Yashiro’s by accident, and Yashiro started.

“Do that again,” he said.

Itsuki grabbed Yashiro’s hand, and his eyes lit up. “Now I see it. We must need to be linked to you.”

Navarre put his hand on Itsuki’s shoulder without forewarning or request, and blinked his eyes a few times from the bright glare of the water. “Charming. Let’s go before they find us.”

Itsuki’s eyes zeroed in on the water again and he sighed. Yashiro, likely feeling him trembling, tightened his grip on Itsuki’s hand. When Itsuki looked over, Yashiro gave a reassuring nod. “It’s going to be okay. I’d sooner die than let you be taken by the waves.”

Itsuki nodded back, still terrified, and looked at the pool. “It’s not very big; it might be easier if Navarre held a grip on Yashiro rather than me so we all fit.”

Navarre gave an acknowledging noise and released Itsuki, gripping Yashiro’s wrist instead.

Then, Itsuki shut his eyes and dove in.

. . .

Itsuki didn’t even remember losing consciousness; he had jumped into the pool with Yashiro and Navarre and his vision snapped into another vision.

The sun was setting over a vast castle, sprawling defensive walls and a few spires – not the biggest castle Itsuki had ever seen, but it was a formidable fortress to be sure. Standing in one of the guard towers was a young man clearly of noble standing, maybe around 15 years of age, staring off in a seemingly random direction to the west. A simple golden circlet sat atop his neatly-groomed cerulean hair, and his cape swayed slightly in the wind.

When Itsuki registered the man’s hair, he froze, seeing Chrom for a split second, but then the man turned.

While he did share a few characteristics of Chrom, there were a fair share of differences. His jawline was softer, his expression a little less war-torn – though, not by a whole lot. He very clearly held himself in the distinct fashion of a Lord, though.

Itsuki’s never seen him in his life, but the familiarity of this man is unmistakable, and as his shoulder throbs at the memory of the Opera of Light, he knows that this man exactly shares the aura of the Hero-King Marth.

“Shouldn’t you be in your diction and literature lessons?” Marth asked, looking through Itsuki and directing his question behind him.

Itsuki turned around and his breath stalled.

Caeda’s appearance is also unmistakable as she approaches the viewing window of the tower. She looks closer to 13 in this memory; her bright blue hair was tied into a French braid on the side, and she wore a simple red dress that seemed as if it went beneath a set of battle armor - said armor was nowhere to be found. She gazed at Marth with a set of intense deep-blue eyes that Itsuki felt like he'd definitely seen somewhere before, though that didn't make any sense - Caeda's Mirage form had a distinct visor covering her eyes, and he was sure he'd never seen them.

“Definitely,” she replied to the older boy. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to go.”

Marth’s smile turned endearing. “You should. A good education is highly important. There aren’t many people out there who are served the same.”

“I wanted to see how you were faring,” Caeda replied. “It’s officially been a year since you arrived. What are you thinking?”

Marth returned to looking out at the horizon as Caeda joined him. “Nothing good, I’m afraid. Altea is in enemy hands, and… I ran. I ran from my people, from Frey, from Elice like a coward. Elice is a hostage of Dohlr’s forces, if not dead, and if they imprisoned Frey for questioning he has almost certainly been killed by now. My subjects are trapped beneath the will of Gra.  I’m just a craven – undeserving of them and of my title.”

“Marth, there was nothing you could do,” Caeda countered. “You were only just informed of any war brewing on the horizon that day, and it was all you could do to save the people you did. The important thing is that you got out of Altea safely. If you’d been captured or killed, the whole of Archanea would be doomed.”

“I know. It just hurts.”

Caeda reached an arm up and around Marth’s shoulders as a form of comfort, and there was a beat of silence before she said, “You’re going to fix it, though. Once you’re ready, you’re going to set out, find the Falchion and liberate all the kingdoms of Archanea from Dohlr.”

Marth crossed his arms, a pensive expression crossing his features. “But will I have earned it?”

“The fact that you regret such a choice despite the fact that you had to make it speaks volumes already.” Caeda fell silent again, thinking. “…if nothing else, I think you’re worthy.”

“Your Highness!”

Both of the nobles turned as someone looking to be some sort of staff approached.

“Princess,” the man addressed Caeda, “I have been looking all over for you! If you don’t pursue your studies, your father will be livid. Please, return to the library with me.”

Caeda tensed. “…Looks like my time is up. Marth – please believe me when I say you’re worthy of your station. Your people hold the hope that you’ll return and liberate them, and I’m sure they’ll welcome you back with open arms. Have a good evening.”

Caeda allowed herself to be led off by the tutor, and as she walked away, Marth smiled.

. . .

Itsuki’s eyes flew open again and water burbled out of his mouth. The sensation of choking on water sent a bolt of panic through his system and he gripped the fabric of the couch so tight he almost ripped holes trying to keep himself grounded in the present, from being sent back to that beach where he’d almost lost his life or that wide expanse of ocean where Medeus set the stage of his worst nightmares. His injured shoulder felt like it was filled with sand or lead, and it ached deeply; likely a side effect of the cold. Still caught in his fervor, he dared to look around and spotted his apartment around him. He was laying on a couch that had a diagonal burn stripe from Yashiro’s panic the other day; they hadn't quite gotten around to finding something to cover it with yet.

A hand grabbed Itsuki’s uninjured shoulder and Itsuki tried to fight off the assailant. Deft hands quickly pacified his attacks and once his eyes cleared slightly he saw him.

Navarre, contrary to his worries, had not transformed into a Mirage; his outfit remained the same, winter hat discarded somewhere and snow still steadily melting from where it had gathered in his hair and clothes. “Calm down. I’m simply turning you over. You need to get that water out of your system.”

Itsuki continued spluttering, still on edge, but he allowed Navarre to turn him on his side, ignoring how it aggravated his shoulder, and the rest of the water spilled from his lungs. Once he could speak, he turned back toward Navarre and choked out, “A-At least you aren't a Mirage, right?”

Navarre gave the slightest of exhales indicating amusement, glancing down at himself. “I'm grateful for that, yes. I must admit, though, this has already been quite the culture shock - we weren’t able to see your world beyond the Bloom Palace and Idolaspheres, and this is a lot different than what I’d expected. I haven’t seen a single speck of natural wildlife, and the sounds are quite deafening.”

Itsuki’s brow furrowed for a second, but then he heard the technochatter outside – all the electronic billboards, the music, the cars running. He’d never really heard it this loud before; maybe he’d just never noticed it. But in contrast with Navarre’s snowy tundra, it was quite the jarring change.

“You get used to it,” was all Itsuki could think to reply with. “Where did Yashiro go?”

Navarre turned his head to the sliding balcony doors and gestured toward it. “Trying to pacify the feathered one. She’s a lot more of a firespitter than I remember – literally.”

Itsuki paused. “Feathered one?”

“I forget her name. Your little friend everyone kept mistaking for a girlfriend.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he bolted upright.

On the balcony stood Yashiro, bridge of his nose between his fingers and highly stressed. He couldn’t hear what Yashiro was saying, but he was clearly trying to reason with the person in front of him. A very bright light engulfed his features, making him completely visible in the night.

And stood next to him, engulfed in a bright angry flame and positively furious, was Tsubasa.

Chapter Text

“Shit,” Itsuki hissed. He then attempted to get his arms to cooperate, to push him off the couch.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Navarre’s unamused gaze watched, poised to intercept his attempts.

“I need to clear this up with Tsubasa. She’s going to eat him alive.”

“And you think you can make it all the way over there like this?”

“Sure.” Despite his injured shoulder angrily protesting as he used that arm to push himself off the couch, Itsuki finally managed to stand, and he raised his uninjured arm up in a gesture that said, See?

…At least, until he tried to take a step and his legs folded underneath him. He felt like he'd just swam for miles - and who knew how long the current they used to get back was? As a result, though, he was struggling to move freely, and he unceremoniously crashed to the floor. “Nope,” he croaked.

“Bitter hells…” Navarre, not at all pleased to be doing so, stooped down and picked Itsuki up to drape his arm over the swordsman’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

However, he’d grabbed Itsuki’s right arm and sent a lance of pain through the subsequent shoulder. Once the resistance in the joint was encountered and Itsuki recoiled, though, Navarre wasted no time in switching to the Lord’s left side instead, a hasty “Apologies” given.

The two made their way to the sliding door – though, not without their fair share of struggles and obstacles – and Navarre slid the glass open.

“—not something you just hide from me like I’m fucking glass!!” Tsubasa was yelling. She inhaled a big breath to continue her tirade, but stopped short when she heard the door open. She looked over, and the height of her flame died down a bit. As she took in the sight of Itsuki awake and moving, the flame disappeared altogether and she leapt into his arms. “Itsuki! You’re alright!”

Yashiro also went to embrace Itsuki, but he might have been more worried than Tsubasa. “What are you doing up? You shouldn't be moving around!”

“How do you know that?” Itsuki retorted as they both backed off. “I could be just fine.”

“He collapsed upon trying to walk,” Navarre deadpanned.

Tsubasa huffed. “So much for one day off.” Still, she secured an arm around Itsuki from the right side, taking care to avoid his shoulder, and led him back to the couch.

Yashiro turned the lamp on. “Are you alright otherwise?”

“I’m soaking wet, freezing, exhausted and my shoulder is killing me but otherwise I’m just great,” Itsuki bit out.

Tsubasa sighed furiously. “Please tell me you haven’t been pushing your shoulder past its limit.”

“I don’t think so, necessarily – at least not yet. I think it’s just having a reaction to the cold.”

“What cold? We’re in the middle of a heatwave, Itsuki.”

“I’ll explain later, I promise.”

Tsubasa shook her head, standing up. “Where’s your compression sleeve? We should put it on just in case.”

“You don’t have to do that, Tsubasa. I think it’ll be fine.”

“Bullshit. I just had to help get you from the office to here while you were knocked out cold, and the scars looked really irritated.”

Itsuki opened his mouth to protest again, but one scathing look from Tsubasa withered his defiance away. “Fine. If it makes you feel better, the compression sleeve should be in the back of the bedroom closet.”

She briskly stormed off toward the bedroom, and the silence was bordering on awkward until she came back. Itsuki unbuttoned his shirt, slid off the right sleeve and spread his right arm out on instinct.

Navarre recoiled a bit. “She isn’t exactly wrong. What happened?”

“A parting gift from Medeus,” Itsuki replied. “I didn’t notice it until we were kicked out of the Idolasphere and all the adrenaline of the situation was gone. Luckily, we were already at the hospital – we had to take Tsubasa in after she ended up flying through that Curse cloud to strike Medeus down.”

Wow, the scars really were irritated. What Itsuki could see of the sprawling scar tissue that networked from the center of his chest and wrapped around his right shoulder was a bright, angry red, warm to the touch. When coming out of physical therapy he was told that severe cold would wreak havoc on the damaged joint, and while he had taken care over the years to bundle up and even stay at home sometimes when the weather grew cold, he hadn’t thought it would be this bad.

Then again, he hadn’t quite been in a place that cold before. Maybe this was a more extreme case of what could have happened if he hadn’t taken proper precautions in the colder climate here, in Shibuya – which meant that even if he took the time to prepare for such a subzero climate in the future rather than crossing over on a whim, he’ll still have a finite amount of time he can withstand the cold until he must return to Shibuya to recuperate.

Itsuki shook his head a little as Tsubasa began to fit the compression sleeve he’d received during physical therapy on his shoulder and the radiating sting he’d been feeling on the surface of the skin began to dim just a little. There were more important things to discuss at this immediate point in time. “How long was I out?”

"Thirty minutes, perhaps,” Navarre replied.

“In that case, the last time you traveled to Navarre's world, you were either there for six hours or you were unconscious for much longer after returning,” Yashiro said.

“I’m sorry,” Tsubasa cut in, staring at Navarre as if she’d just seen him for the first time. “Navarre?”

“Charming as ever, Oribe,” the myrmidon clipped.

“I-” Tsubasa huffed. “Okay... okay. Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

. . .

Tsubasa’s mouth was hanging wide open. “You practically signed up for another war by yourself?” she accused.

“Tsubasa, think about it,” Itsuki started. “Can you list a single person in this group who has gotten over what happened with Medeus, including yourself?”

Tsubasa stopped in her tracks, at first looking ready to counter but as more time passed without her retort she seemed to grow more and more unsure of her answer. Finally, she sighed. “No… but that includes you, too!”

“Yeah, but the difference is that I had no choice. You didn’t see this Mirage – he had no other alternative and I could see the desperation in his face. Even if our world weren’t at risk I still would have helped him, and I could have easily shouldered it myself so none of you would have to suffer any more than you have already.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” Yashiro argued, returning to the couch with four glasses of water. “You were under enough stress as it was, and with this added on and bringing back perhaps our greatest point of trauma to the forefront of your memory, you were seconds from collapsing completely under the weight of it all before I found out about this.”

“How long did he go without you finding out?” Tsubasa deadpanned.

“About 14 hours before he almost died to hypothermia in the Bloom Palace,” Yashiro replied. “This was the same day Itsuki went missing and I had my hanahaki relapse.”

“Longer than I thought, I’ll give that to you.”

Itsuki sighed wistfully, slipping the sleeve of his shirt back on and pulling a blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Listen, I don’t need this slander.”

“You signed up for my harassment when we crashed into each other in kindergarten - you don't get to complain.”

Navarre shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “I doubt I’ll ever understand the slang you all use, but your relationships are highly fascinating.” He picked up his glass of water, watching the others drinking it with a hint of skepticism. “Don’t you need to boil it first? And these chunks look like ice, but I’ve never seen anything quite like it before…”

Yashiro chuckled. “Modern technology, my friend. Our water comes pre-filtered, and yes, the ‘chunks’ are ice cubes to keep it cold.”

Navarre made an acknowledging noise, appraising his own glass before taking a tentative sip and deeming it drinkable.

Tsubasa slumped onto the back of the sofa, energy drained. As she did, a little green wave of Wind magic flew behind her and started picking up papers in the room in a short, small tornado until it disappeared. She jumped upon seeing it. “I need to get used to that again. There isn’t going to be a lot of time before the others find out – it’s only a matter of time before someone does a little tic they used to have and whatever outburst of magic comes out ends up killing someone.”

“We know,” Yashiro replied, slicking a hand through his hair as a stress mechanism. He started coughing on instinct and a puff of smoke forced its way out of his mouth. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Now I’ll have to tell people I’m smoking again. Producers are going to give me shit.” He made an effort to clear the air, then sighed. “Unlike Itsuki, I have the realistic notion that everyone is going to get involved by the end. I just want to prolong that for as long as humanly possible, and with you on our side we can get that much further before someone else finds out.”

Tsubasa ran her palms on her skirt as if they were sweaty. “I don’t know… if I'm understanding you guys right, this isn’t exactly an Idolasphere anymore. If these worlds act closer to our own, then I don't think dumping a box of Hee Ho Mart curry on someone's head is going to revive them.”

Itsuki snorted. "Why was that the way we had to revive each other in an Idolasphere, anyway? If I ever wasn't wearing my Carnage Form, those stains were hell to wash out."

"I've learned to stop questioning the Idolaspheres," Yashiro sighed. "The point is, though, we will very likely be in more danger than when we were running around in an Idolasphere. If this realm operates on the same laws and principles as our world, then any wounds we may sustain will hurt a lot more than they would have in an Idolasphere, and it will be much easier for someone to die on this mission. That's a risk you have to be able to accept if you're going to assist us."

“If I understand the mission of rejoining this relic correctly, however,” Navarre interjected, “we’ll be crossing paths with Caeda to assist.”

“Sign me up,” Tsubasa blurted out before Navarre had even finished speaking.

Itsuki chuckled. “I knew that would get you to help.”

Tsubasa crossed her arms. “Don’t tell me you didn’t act like that when Chrom entered the picture, hypocrite.” The group sat in silence for a few seconds before Tsubasa continued, asking “So… what’s our next move?”

“That's a good question,” Itsuki sighed. “We retreated back here to regroup; Navarre’s enemies discovered him and we didn’t have a place to form a strategy where he was trapped.”

“With Oribe in the picture, we might stand a chance against those brutes,” Navarre said. “As far as I could see, the group consisted of four Barbarians, very bulky and slow but they hit hard, and their strength has been amplified immensely. They seem to be inflicted by some sort of possession – they’re largely unresponsive to normal human interaction and their only goal seems to be harming me specifically. They can be distracted, but return to their objective if the distraction is not kept.”

“Then we need some sort of distraction to catch them off-guard and take them one at a time,” Tsubasa reiterated.

“That won’t work,” Itsuki countered. “According to Navarre, he tried to attract one barbarian at a time but calling one brought the others to him like a hivemind. We need something that will distract all of them at once.”

“Yes, that’s the physical limitation,” Yashiro parroted. “I don’t think there’s a whole lot we can do about that in the current moment – Itsuki needs to recover for at least a day or two, and we have work at Fortuna we can’t avoid any longer. Still, though, we also need to think about our other objective concerning the shards of the Mirage’s relic.”

“Right,” Itsuki nodded, retrieving the shard from where it was tied around his wrist and placed it onto the table.

Tsubasa surveyed the small golden chain and gray alabaster piece where it had settled on the table, seemingly wary of touching it. “This thing? It seems like a piece of garbage, if I’m being honest.”

“I don’t know what it was a piece of when it was whole, but I know it’s highly powerful.” Itsuki relayed. "According to our mystery Mirage, this relic was created specifically for stopping an ancient power from razing the multiverse. It reformed an entire world and destroyed the Mirage’s predecessors, subduing this power and splintering it into ten pieces scattered across time in the process.”

Itsuki rubbed his head, a headache coming on. He didn’t notice the small shocks of electricity arcing across his forehead. “Speaking of this ancient power, I’ve been having these sort of premonitions of different groups of people in seemingly random situations. More on that later, since I just had a second one, but the first one showed some kind of monarch being killed by a hooded man who could control water. He lost his sanity for a moment and crushed the monarch's chest with the impact of water. When he took off his hood, he looked almost godlike and his face kind of had some resemblance to the Mirage who sought out my help.”

Yashiro, who had picked up on what Itsuki had been leading to, had pulled the Askrian Mythology book from the shelf again and flipped to Anankos’ depiction in the book. “Upon returning from Navarre’s world the first time, Itsuki successfully identified this man as the god in his premonition – Anankos, the second conduit of the Silent Dragon Dolhr.”

Navarre choked on his water. “Did you just say Dolhr?”

“Yes…?” Itsuki replied. “Why, do you know who this is?”

“Give me that book. If it mentions Dolhr in passing, there should be a section on him.”

Itsuki pushed the book toward Navarre and he flipped through a couple of pages depicting what was likely different conduits and stopped on a two-page spread headlined DOLHR: THE SILENT DRAGON. A menacing armored dragon with a spore-like head seating an eye-covered sphere stared back at them. Free-floating blobs of water swirled around the dragon, almost as if they were forming protective rings. The small figure of a man with an opened cloak with the hood pulled over, tattered noble clothing and an insane, ragged smile stood beneath the great dragon, power radiating from his hands.

“Dolhr founded his own province in a pocket dimension ages before my time, long before even the great hero Anri’s time,” Navarre reported. “Manaketes – biological human-dragon hybrids – were persecuted during this time, ostracized. They were a relatively new development in the human race’s relationship with the First Dragons, as they had only been discovered recently and the general public's knowledge on dragons was very limited. Thus, the humans didn’t understand manaketes; they feared their dragon forms, that they might raze villages and kill innocents on a whim. Often, the manaketes were treated like savage animals, abused and persecuted.

“In the wake of this development, a common manakete named Dolhr prayed to the First Dragons for the salvation of his race. The Silent Dragon answered his call due to the silent suffering of the manaketes and granted him his power – thus, Dolhr became the Silent Dragon as his first mortal conduit. Dolhr discovered a large pocket dimension beneath the abyss of a canyon, and using his power he cultivated it into a kingdom all his own and sheltered any manakete who chose to join him. This kingdom was held together through the use of his blood's magic; dragon's blood is an incredibly rare commodity to come by, as its power is practically limitless and it lasts eons, if not forever. In my time, the only place one might see it is in the blood of a royal family line such as Marth's, as many a time it was gifted to an ancestor for a heroic deed and passed down through the generations. I digress, though - most every manakete in the land accepted Dohlr's shelter, and for around 250 years they lived as a peaceful nation with its namesake Dolhr presiding as king.”

“What happened, then?” Tsubasa asked. “There's no way it could have stayed that way – wouldn’t Tiki have mentioned Dolhr if it stayed peaceful?”

“Exactly,” Itsuki said. “In the premonition Anankos was present in, he mentioned a ‘Valla,’ not Dolhr.”

“Why do you think Tiki never mentioned it?” Navarre countered. “We’re getting there. Don’t interrupt me.” After sipping his drink, he sighed. “Dolhr, as a man, was never the most stable person, and the centuries of abuse as a manakete never helped him. Silence himself was unstable; much of what we know about the gods before they chose conduits is speculation, but we suspect he wasn’t paid much attention to or was even ostracized by his brother Chaos and his parents Dawn and Dusk. His sister Wisdom seems to have been kind to him, but otherwise he was treated as an outsider by the gods.”

Navarre paused, reaching behind him. “I wonder if the contents of my bags carry over through worlds…”

As he pulled out a weathered scroll of paper, he smiled for a brief second and rolled it out above the book. It was an old handmade map, presumably of Navarre’s world and its different territories.

“At the behest of Medeus, Chaos’ first conduit, Dolhr went against his nature of silence and peace by lending his power, his armies and his empire as a figurehead to wage a great war on the human race for everything they had done to the manaketes. As you might guess, their prowess was tenfold of man’s power, and under Dohlr’s name they were promptly enslaved and treated worse than the manaketes ever were. 250 years before my time, the hero Anri of Altea, an ancestor of King Marth—” Navarre pointed to a small island between the two large landmasses on the map marked Altea “—began to plan a rebellion with Duke Cartas, the future king of Archanea.” He pointed to a marker on a larger landmass southeast of Altea labeled Archanea, but Itsuki also noted that the whole map was headlined as Archanea.

“They plotted valiantly, but nothing turned out viable with man’s power alone. Their fear of what manaketes could do had turned the manaketes into the very monsters they never wanted to be, and man had no hope of victory on their strength alone. Luckily, however… there was to be one manakete who could tip the balance.”

Itsuki’s eyes flashed. “Tiki.”

Navarre nodded. “She’s why I know so much of the legend – she was there. She was born pre-Dolhr and at such a young age was slandered and treated like dirt. At around 500 years old she was whisked away to Dolhr and for the next 250 years she lived in luxury. However, when the manaketes went to war and she saw what her comrades were doing to the enslaved humans, she didn’t feel right following suit.” His eyes softened. “You know her – she’s too much of a caring soul for such torture.

“Lost among her own people, she turned to the gods for answers. The Dragon of Wisdom answered her prayers and granted Tiki her power; in our world she's now become the face of Wisdom as Dohlr and Medeus had with Silence and Chaos, and she's now the only remaining first conduit in the land. The other first conduits have since degenerated and passed the containment or use of their powers onto new conduits, if not in slumber. With this power, she was given the knowledge that a rebellion was being planned, and she crossed the continent looking for a man she could see in her mind’s eye but never name. Anri was this man, and once she found him, the rebellion was all but won as Anri faced the Dohlr Empire. He defeated Dohlr, and upon the discovery that Medeus was the true spearhead of their armies, Anri banished him as well. They were both cast into slumber, but while Medeus’ human form perished in the battle, Dolhr still roamed.

“With Medeus’ absence, though, manaketes and humans learned to properly coexist, and the kingdom of Dohlr eventually evolved. Knowing he was beginning to degenerate, Dolhr passed his throne to a close human friend, Vallamus Cadros – the first king of the newly renamed kingdom of Valla. Cadros was given some of Dohlr's blood in order to help maintain the land in Dohlr's decline, and Dohlr exiled himself to a remote location somewhere along the edges of the pocket dimension, only a select few people chosen to visit him every once in a while. I don’t know much past that… Valla closed itself off to the rest of the world long before my time. Most people have forgotten the kingdom even existed. I wouldn't have known if Tiki didn't talk about it. She was apparently able to travel there despite it being sealed to the general public, at least until she was placed into slumber. So, once she stationed herself at Archanea Castle post-defeating Medeus a second time, every once in a while she would disappear, and whenever she came back she claimed that she'd been to Valla. I assume it was a sisterly duty to visit Silence, as she still harbors Wisdom.”

“Maybe the book can fill in what you can’t,” Tsubasa suggested. “It’s a finished mythology book, so maybe it has the pieces of the puzzle that were made past your knowledge?”

Yashiro reached over and flipped the page past the depiction of Dolhr in the book to see a long written dissertation on the dragon. Skimming past what Navarre had already summarized, he began to try and read past Navarre’s memory, but he squinted his eyes shut upon looking at the page. Itsuki and the others had a similar reaction – the entire page seemed to be covered in a moving black haze that redacted the text and gave Itsuki a headache to stare at.

“Strange,” Itsuki mused. “I’ve been flipping through this book since I was a kid and I’ve never seen anything redacted like that.”

“Could someone have defiled the book?” Yashiro asked.

“That’s impossible,” Itsuki countered. “It’s been shelved for years. Even if I ever had someone over who would do that, why pick a mythology book that no one pays much attention to?”

“That could mean this is the work of someone who doesn’t want us to know more about him,” Navarre answered, flipping the pages back to the depiction of Anankos. “If he’s piloting Dolhr, then he could very well be watching us right now. You’ve seen what Medeus is capable of – and Dolhr is far more powerful. Plus, in my time he was under Medeus’ thumb for ages. What power we’ve heard of was tempered and controlled by the Chaos Dragon.”

“That’s… a little terrifying,” Tsubasa squeaked.

“And that means he’s always going to be one step ahead of us,” Yashiro replied. “How are we supposed to plan a next move like this?”

Itsuki began to think about how to approach such a feat, but as an idea started to form, he didn’t have time to get it out.

A sharp thread of pain stabbed through Itsuki’s head out of nowhere, and he swayed in his seat. Yashiro reached across the table and steadied him, fear in his eyes. “Itsuki? What’s wrong?!”

A high-pitched ringing had taken over Itsuki’s hearing as a series of nonsensical images flowed through his mind. A pair of armored adults in unknown classes, standing side by side – the man’s silhouette a cream color, the woman’s sky blue. The vision felt as if it were a highly minimalistic drawing – only colors and shapes, no features or backgrounds; the only way Itsuki could identify either was by their colors or by their hair. The man had a choppy, slightly shaggy cut and the woman's incredibly long hair seemed to extend to her ankles like tentacles. The vision changed many times - those adults turning away from two grouped families; both of them fighting for their lives against vicious invaders, later a suspiciously familiar dragon with a spore-like head. The woman lifting a shell locket with magic, disintegrating as the locket shone blindingly bright and started to crack. The man, older now, unconscious as the pure cream of the silhouette was splattered with the violent red of blood, being dragged away as the small lavender hand of a girl reaches out to them. The pale yellow hands of two teenage boys hold her tightly, trying to pull her away; one set of hands was a paler shade of yellow than the other.

“He’s burning up!!” Itsuki could distantly hear Tsubasa fretting over the ringing and the intense pain. “Ah! He shocked me!”

“I’d certainly hope this isn’t normal in this world…” Navarre’s faraway voice sounded somewhat calm, but he was trying to bring Itsuki back to reality just as frantically as the others.

As the images start to flash faster, Itsuki has more difficulty discerning them, especially through the amplifying pain. They’re all from the point of view of this same lavender-hued girl as she grows older, on the front lines fighting a colossal war.

The barrage of information slowed on a still of this girl arguing with a number of extravagantly-dressed young adults – this one stuck around longer than the others and allowed Itsuki to fully take it in. It depicted a host of people that appeared to be of varying importance - an indigo woman in samurai garb, hand resting on a katana with a light blue edge; a heavily armored grey man with a tall, spiky crown, short curly hair, a black sword that was a little longer than most and a stature that was slightly babyish for his armor; a tall pink girl in a dress expertly tailored to her slightly-broad figure, long doll curls blowing in a soft wind beneath her troubadour's cap and clutching what looks like a deep purple book but from Itsuki’s knowledge is likely a magic tome; a forest-green boy with short messy hair and defined muscles, running his fingers along an elegantly molded bow with a deep purple string and leaning against the very slight silhouette of… a tank?

The four silhouettes were all showing varying degrees of anger toward the now-teenage lavender girl, but none as vehemently as the less-pale yellow boy, now an adult. He had more armor than before, a naginata sheathed on his back. he waved his arms at her in a furious fashion, section of long hair over his right eye flying up as he gestured wildly…

…a section of long hair?

“The relic,” Yashiro’s voice exclaimed, sounding even further away. “It’s glowing!”

Itsuki could hardly feel his friends trying to wake him anymore. He watched as the Mirage he was trying to help, fuming mad, argued with the lavender girl. Almost completely imperceptible in the background, his outline very faint, the more-pale yellow boy Itsuki had seen the hands of earlier watched with an almost eerie stillness. There was a blade seeming to extend from his right forearm, but if there was a matching one on his left, Itsuki couldn't discern it - the man held his left arm to his body as if it were broken. It appeared to Itsuki that he wore traditional ninja robes, if the silhouette he could barely see was being interpreted correctly. His shaggy hair hung around his eyes, the fabric of what must be the tie of a headband hanging with it, and a small stick of something stuck out of his mouth.

The lavender girl started to stand up for herself, fighting against the tirade being launched at her. Echoes of a distant, energetic female voice could be heard, but Itsuki couldn’t discern her words. A male cry resembling the Mirage’s voice interrupted her – also unintelligible. He jabbed a hand at the ground, and the girl looked down.

A sword swirled cream and lavender lay on the ground, cracked beyond use; it seemed as if one swing of the blade would shatter it completely. It was a simple double-edged blade, inset with four ruby gems at the base of said blade. The hilt was set in a dragon’s-claw motif. Itsuki could only assume from the situation that the lavender girl had a hand in cracking it.

The lavender girl’s hand balled into a fist, the edges of her vision began to crack like the view was a breaking glass mosaic, and the scene changed again. She stood before an ominous shape mired in a dark purple haze, seemingly making an argument judging by her hand gestures. Itsuki heard an inhuman growl, and then dark purple tendrils forced themselves inside the lavender girl, turning her into a marbled mess of lavender and violet. Rapid-fire scenes of her destroying land and facing her friends in her possessed state flashed by.

Then Itsuki heard a bloodcurdling scream as the girl pressed her hands to her head, purple veins creeping into her vision. Another impact of pain shot its way out of Itsuki’s brain, and strangely enough he heard a slightly familiar melody as he blacked out.

“ITSUKI!!”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to hold it together?” Tsubasa fretted.

Yashiro grit his teeth at the 20th version of the same worry Tsubasa had been looping pretty much since they'd left. “I’ll be fine.”

“There are better places to get a set of clothes,” Tsubasa insisted. “Ones that don't put your wellbeing out as an offering.”

“Stop your incessant whining. I will be fine.”

“Quite honestly, I'll have to agree with Oribe,” Navarre chimed in, toying with the zipper on a hoodie of Itsuki’s he’d borrowed. Yashiro and Tsubasa had agreed that his armor from home would be looked at quite strangely in public and wouldn’t be convincing even as a costume he’d pre-wear to a set, so they borrowed from Itsuki’s wardrobe for the car ride to where he could pick out clothes he’d have a better chance of liking – and would fit him a little better. “I may not have been able to see your living conditions when you were there, but as someone who was auditorily privy to your plight for upwards of five years, I don't see the point of endangering your peace of mind by going back there if it's only for a set of clothing.”

Yashiro didn't respond, resting his head on the back of his seat. Normally the sideways sway of the moving limo calmed his soul, but it only served to make him feel even more sick at the prospect of just where his destination was. He had to admit, they had a right to worry, but what they didn't know was that clothes weren't the only thing he hoped to retrieve.

Itsuki had been unconscious for two days now. His fever had gone down and the relic shard had stopped glowing erratically, but there was still no explanation for what could have possibly happened, and there was no way they would know until he woke up.

Speaking of the relic shard - Yashiro had tried to wrap it around his wrist to keep it safe while Itsuki was out, but the whole thing, including the chain, seemed to repel his skin like a pair of like-charged magnets. The same happened to Tsubasa and Navarre as well when they tried. Still, no one really trusted leaving it unattended, if this Anankos was as powerful as they thought with Dohlr’s prowess under his control. Something might happen to it if no one was keeping an eye on it. So, at the present moment it was securely looped around the belt to Tsubasa’s Maho costume. The relic was slipped under the skirt, so as it repelled Tsubasa’s skin it wouldn’t look like a weird shape jutting from a pocket. The golden chain was tucked beneath one of the belt loops on the skirt so it wouldn’t catch sunlight or stage lights.

With Itsuki incapacitated, there was no way to possibly keep the situation concealed among the four of them; Yashiro and Tsubasa had work to do regardless of whether Itsuki was able to work or not, and while Navarre could stay behind at the apartment to continue formulating a plan for getting out of the snow, he still doubted they would get anywhere meaningful if only one of them could dedicate time to the cause. Not to mention – people would begin to wonder where Itsuki had gone instead of attending to the duties he’d already been uncharacteristically absent from, and if any of their friends came to his apartment looking for him and found Navarre instead, there would be no explaining that away.

So, with much reluctance, they phoned Maiko for help.

She had quite a few angry words for the group for not keeping her in the loop, but she also understood the reason behind trying to protect the others from the info for now. She formulated the ploy that Itsuki discovered he was more run-down than he thought from overwork and decided to take a longer stretch off, specifying that she would handle any incredibly urgent matters.

In the process, Itsuki was covertly transferred to the care of a medical professional. They didn’t know how long he’d be out, and it could prove deadly if we wasn’t medically monitored. The reality was that something potentially dangerous had happened to Itsuki, and they had no idea whether he would be okay or even make it out of this alive.

And Yashiro blamed himself.

He knew Itsuki was run down – everyone did. That’s why they mandated he have a day off. He knew that Itsuki really shouldn’t have gone back into Navarre’s world that day. Yashiro was glad they were there to save Navarre from a terrible fate, but at the same time Itsuki was overworked and a couple of bad run-ins with awful memories were still fresh in his mind. That wasn’t even mentioning how neither of them gave thought to how Itsuki probably needed to relearn how to swordfight with his left hand; if he got caught in a real battle using his mangled shoulder without the energy boost from an Idolasphere, he would push it past the point of no return in the blink of an eye.

Yashiro let Itsuki run out into a dangerous subzero tundra practically defenseless without even an attempt of protest, and for it Itsuki had fallen into a coma. Itsuki was going to hate Yashiro when he woke up—

No. Yashiro shook his head before that thought could run too far down its course. Wallowing has never helped anyone, and it wasn't about to now.

Tsubasa looked at him from the seat across from his, her eyes sad as she worried her Maho skirt between her fingers. “You’ve been very diligent in following Tarachino’s direction... I’m sure he wouldn’t be too angry if you needed to take the day off—”

“Oribe,” Yashiro hissed, so sick of the people around him treating him like he would shatter at any second. “Leave it alone.”

The limousine slowed, and behind Tsubasa’s sympathetic expression Yashiro could see Inokashira Park, where the filming equipment was being set up for the outdoor segments of the Maho taping. The engine cut and Yashiro’s personal chauffeur stepped out of the vehicle to open the door.

Tsubasa sighed, switching her usual thick black glasses for her Maho wireframes and detective cap. “I’ll try to hold off Tarachino for as long as I can, but there aren’t many scenes we’re filming where you aren’t present – and there aren’t many more filming sessions before Maho wraps, so it’s not like you can film it much later. Please be quick, at least.”

When the door opened, she stepped out and gravitated toward the set. Ellie, already in costume, smiled and energetically waved at her.

The chauffeur leaned in. “Are you stepping out too, sir? It’s been years since you've reached out to me for assistance – knowing your brilliant mind, you must be up to something.”

“No,” Yashiro replied. "This isn't our destination quite yet."

“Where to, then, sir?”

Yashiro’s hands tightened on the seat. “…Is he home?”

The chauffeur’s face softened. “No, sir. He’s out in Inaba. Confidential errand – he wouldn’t even tell his accountant when he had money set aside for it.”

Yashiro found that to be highly surprising – not only that he wouldn’t disclose what he was doing in a backroad town like Inaba, but that he’d finally accepted help in the form of an accountant – but his relief was far too immense to question it at the moment. “Perfect. Take us to the estate, but leave the car out front. We don’t intend to stay long.”

“Yes, sir.” The chauffeur’s voice was quiet as he shut the door and returned to the driver’s seat.

“I still think this is a terrible choice,” Navarre sighed.

Yashiro turned his head toward the front of the car. “Trust me - I wouldn't if I didn't need to.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He let his head rest against the seat again as he closed his eyes, trying to block out the images threatening to break through the surface of his mind to little avail.

The house pulled up faster than Yashiro’s mind could keep up – he must have zoned out. The center stage of his nightmares didn’t feel real as they approached, and somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind Yashiro realized he was dissociating. The mansion’s great gates were beginning to rust, much to his surprise. Father never left a speck of dust out of place, and the gates had always been shining in his youth.

……

“Yashiro! Why didn’t you clean the parlor like I asked you to?”

“F-Father, I’ve been cleaning since you left. I—”

“Then you didn’t clean fast enough. Look - the shelves still have dust on them. How can I expect you to take a role of leadership in this family if you can’t even keep a house that isn’t in shambles?”

……

“Yashiro, you’re sweating. I know that look all too well – we don’t have to do this if you’re not prepared.” Navarre’s expression had hardly broken, but Yashiro had known him long enough to identify the concern in his voice; now that his eyes were visible, he could also distantly note the spark of worry hidden deep within them.

“There’s something else I need to retrieve from here anyway, so I figured you could borrow something I haven’t worn in a while,” Yashiro watched himself reply, a mindless auto-pilot response as he avoided Navarre's statement altogether. “I have some outfits that fit this century that I think you might like.”

The gates squeaked open and the limo slowly rolled in. Yashiro made the mistake of looking out his window and spotted an old, gnarled magnolia tree still standing after all these years. The sword marks adorning its trunk were still healing from the years of practice Yashiro had enacted upon it, starting from when he'd met Navarre.

……

“Oh, lady fair, we shan’t hide in the shade of the magnolias for another moment. I have spoken with the carriagemaster and he has prepared a carriage to the town of Elanntra, where we may be wed by sundown! The whims of your father carry us no longer!”

“That was weak, Yashiro. You claim this to be your favorite stage work? A spineless fool cannot play an adventurous voyager. Again!”

“Father... I've been standing here for hours. Might I have something to eat first?”

“And put on weight that would cause casting directors to pass you by? Absolutely not. Start the scene again.”

……

Yashiro squeezed his eyes shut as the door was opened by his chauffeur. There was a brief beat of hesitation before the man asked, “Would you like me to escort you inside, sir?”

“No,” Yashiro bit out a little too fast, mortified at the possibility of needing to be assisted inside. “I can walk on my own.”

“Yes, sir.” Yashiro opened his eyes just in time to see the chauffeur circle around to the other side of the door and hold it open.

He quickly stepped out of the limo and held out his arm to help Navarre out. Once the swordmaster was on his feet, Yashiro wasted no time speeding into the mansion before he could look at the front courtyard any longer.

The front doors opened and the attendant at the right’s eyes widened slightly upon seeing Yashiro. “G-Greetings, Young Master Yashiro… it has been quite a while.”

Yashiro barely registered her greeting as he took one step into the grand foyer and started trembling slightly. The memories couldn’t be held back any longer.

……

“No, no, NO!! You need more emotion, more passion! You look like a bumbling idiot - you're not even fit to be my extra!”

“…I apologize, Father. I’ve been studying the script, but—”

“But nothing! You should know every inch of that slab of papers by now! And look at you – your face is bloated… you look like you've been purging. Have you been lying about eating without my permission? Do you have anything to say for yourself?!”

“I was starving! I had to eat something, and purging ensured it wouldn’t have an effect on my camera-ready weight, sir. It just, er… kept happening…”

“…You do know I can’t let you disgrace the Pilgrimage of Heinreich tonight with your atrocious acting and ballooned face, yes?”

“Sir, you promised me a performance in this production!”

“Are you talking back to me?”

“…”

“I thought so. We’ll discuss your punishment when opening night is through. I expect to see you in the wings with my customary rose tonight. We will entertain the peons, then ride straight home. Go put on something respectable.”

……

“Young Master Yashiro, are you alright?”

Yashiro looked at the attendant, startled by her presence. “Y-Yes, I…”

Behind the attendant Yashiro could see the parlor. The bloodstain was still visible on the floor even though it looks to have been scrubbed countless times.

……

“Father, I can’t believe you’re alright! I’d thought the Mirages had taken you...”

“This place is as much of a mess as always.”

“…F-Father?”

“Five years, you said? You couldn’t even hold an estate together for five years… how disappointing.”

“I try to put our past behind us and welcome you back with open arms and you don’t even have the decency to say hello?”

“Why say hello to such an irresponsible burnout? You couldn’t have had a job these past years, what with all the weight you’ve gained.”

“…Stop.”

“What did you just say?”

“I can’t even pretend to be happy you’re here anymore. I withstood all of your abuse for my entire life – protecting Mother from you, nursing her through her illness until it killed her while you were off doing gods-know-what in the city, trying to impress you by following your direction and taking your disappointment and even your physical abuse when I failed to meet your impossible standard by one speck of dust, one kilogram, one line—”

“Shut your mouth, you ungrateful little—”

“No, you shut YOUR damn mouth!!” Yashiro had never felt such rage, had been conditioned to bury such things, but now it felt exhilarating to hear his raised voice echoing through the parlor, feel the burn in his chest as he took heaving, wheezing breaths to catch up with his anger, feel the pain of the gnarled roots in his lungs digging further into the surrounding tissues out of agitation. He could practically feel Navarre's apt attention in the forefront of his mind at the harsh turn of conversation, but at this point he could hardly bring himself to care. “I endured it all for two reasons; at first, it was because I wanted to keep Mother happy and unharmed. Then once she passed away, it was to make you proud. No matter how many times I was yelled at, hit, berated for falling short of your impossible standard despite trying to the best of my ability to meet it, I forgave you because you’re my father. There was still some aching, yearning corner of my heart hoping that you loved me – that one day you would see the error of your ways and we could pick up the pieces… become something resembling a real family." He laughed derisively at the thought, its presence like a bitter weight at the back of his mind. "I suppose that really does make me the fool," he spat.

When Chikaomi didn't respond, fuming and clearly formulating, processing this drastic change from the robotic teenager he'd last seen before being whisked away, Yashiro seized the opportunity to hammer his point home. “Once you were gone, I fell into a depression over having never earned your approval, and ironically enough that finally turned me into the emotionless husk you so wished for me to be. But then a group of incessantly determined actors and singers forced their way into my life and made me realize that your lessons and ideals were highly toxic - that they were going to destroy me if I continued to idolize you any longer. They helped me accept the fact that I'm never going to get your approval no matter what I do, and thanks to them, I'm not the timid 14-year-old that you could mold like clay anymore.”

“Please!" Chikaomi harshly cut in, the angle for his rebuttal found. He tried to soften his expression, form a mask of parental concern. "You’ve become a liar, now? You have no one who cares about you but me. If anyone in that cold, unforgiving world out there says any different, then they’re using you for their own means. I condition you to these rigorous environments out of my love for you and my wish for you to live above the swill of the world.”

That husk of false empathy used to be the card that would drain any sort of fight out of Yashiro as a child, playing at his heartstrings, but all it did now was make Yashiro sneer. “You’re wrong. If anything, you’re the only one in my life who doesn’t give a damn for my wellbeing as long as I’m alive to lick your boots when you’re too old to act. I’ve made a name for myself in singing and acting bigger than yours ever was, and I didn’t need your regime of bullshit to achieve it.”

Smack!

Yashiro hardly had time to register the sting on his cheek before Chikaomi punched him in the gut. He sank to the ground, and as much as he tried to keep it down, he'd already done his fair share of fighting on the front lines of the Idolaspheres today, and he could only stay strong for so long. Yashiro couldn’t hold back the five fully-bloomed white rose heads, a couple curled in with smoke damage from his nervous tic of coughing smoke, and copious amounts of blood that forced their way out of his mouth and stained the wooden parlor floor as a result of the violent jostling.

“…Hanahaki?”

Though he knew it was all for naught, a glimmer of hope sparked in Yashiro’s violently rattling chest, much to his own chagrin. He just made a passionate speech about how he’d awoken to his father’s abusive nature, and that incessantly determined corner of his heart still had the audacity to think that maybe things will change now that he knew?

“Weak.”

That last hope died faster than he would in around a month.

“Emotions get in the way of show business. That is the first and most important thing I’ve ever taught you, Yashiro." He paused in his uncharacteristically quiet and icy tangent, shaking his head and blinking hard. "Normally I would give you a severe punishment right this second, but with whatever the hell happened today, I can hardly keep my eyes open right now. This should never happen again – do you work with her?”

Yashiro’s heart sank even deeper as he struggled to breathe, as another flower fell from his lips. He’d always had a feeling his father would never approve of the traitorous things his heart was feeling for Itsuki, who was supposed to be his rival.

“H-He… he and I work very closely together.” Yashiro struggled to look up, hoping his gaze came off as defiant and not pitiful.

Chikaomi’s gaze turned to disgust. “You truly are a disgrace, and your mother was just the same. Died to a few measly flowers just because I didn’t want the same tired old woman every night.”

With those words, it almost felt as if the world stopped, an icy quiet settling into the recesses of Yashiro's mind as he processed what his father had just said. Red began to creep into Yashiro’s vision, and it wasn’t due to the blood. “…You what?”

“Please, you never noticed? Her ‘mysterious illness’ was hanahaki directed at me. She had delusions of appearing strong or unshakable, or something, so she hid the flowers from you and attempted to hide them from me. It was painfully obvious, though. The reason she died? She finally discovered how long ago I’d stopped caring for her. So many mistresses that I've lost count – which makes you expendable. You’re hardly worthy of the Tsurugi name, and I wouldn't be surprised if you had at least one bastard sibling somewhere out there, ready and willing to take your place. Hardly respectable, but they’d be in much better graces than you.”

He couldn't stand to hear another word; Yashiro yelled in pure fury and dove for Chikaomi. He was highly weakened, so he couldn’t and didn’t expect to best his father, but he still put up a much better fight than Chikaomi had expected. Still, after an exhausting day of battle and his already-suffering airway really starting to flag, his strength drained and he sank to his knees once more.

“I’m not just going to sit under your thumb anymore," Yashiro asserted, the spark of fury still very much alive in his mind even if he couldn't physically act on it any longer. "I’m allowed to live my adult life independent of your meddling and have done so for the last five years.”

Chikaomi laughed. “The only thing you’re allowed to do under my roof is listen to my direction. You’re getting the surgery tomorrow and you are going to get a job far away from this scum and much closer to the fool’s courts that are the only film stations you’re worthy of. That’s final. If he has anything to say about it, I can and will have him killed - you know very well that I have the connections to make that happen, and swiftly, at that. Now, be a good upstanding man and go to bed.”

He reluctantly obliged to prevent further threat to his or Itsuki's life, but once in his room, Yashiro knew what he must do. Packing a shoulder bag with a few outfits and essentials he can dredge up from the confines of his room, he scrolled through the contacts of his Topic. He knew who he had to ask, but he didn't want to. Wounding his pride aside, he knew asking to stay with Itsuki was a dangerous bet; he would effectively have no money and no way to move out for at least a while, and at any point his obvious affections for the everyman could be exposed. Still, he didn't know anyone else at Fortuna better than he knew Itsuki, and if he stayed here he would be forced to forget Itsuki and leave Fortuna entirely.

So, he opened their chat thread.

-DIRECT IM: ITSUKI AOI-

<12:45 AM> Yashiro Tsurugi: Aoi. Are you awake?

He doesn't wait for Itsuki to answer once Topic indicates that he's seen the message.

Yashiro Tsurugi: I'm coming over. I have something urgent I must ask of you in person.

……

“Tsurugi-san? Can you hear me?” The high-pitched voice of an unknown woman reached out to Yashiro, and desperate to run from the day he both lost and gained everything, he heeded her call.

"Don't crowd him," another feminine voice of a lower cadence chimed in. "We don't want him to feel claustrophobic..."

“Yashiro, you’re not there – you are past that day!” Navarre’s voice called out with a knowing tone, having been in Yashiro's head while that event had happened.

Slowly, Yashiro’s vision returned to him. He had been guided to the bench sitting beside the front doors. A woman who looked to be around the same age as Yashiro knelt in front of him, grasping his hands tightly as a sort of grounding point. She had pale skin, caring amber eyes, a pair of wireframe reading glasses attached to a lavender-bead chain around her neck, and a small side ponytail of wildly curly strawberry-blonde hair. Just to her right, stood a little further back with crossed arms but with just as concerned of a stare from her piercing ruby eyes, was a woman in a black leather jacket and motorcycle pants, a medium-length braid of dark brown hair pulled over her shoulder. Navarre was there too – he had run to the side to help the attendants shut the parlor doors.

Before he could watch Navarre work too long the woman grabbed his jaw with a shockingly strong grip and pulled his head back to her face. “Sorry if I was a little forceful,” she said in a demure way that made her seem pure and innocent, “but I know from experience that you don’t want to look at the trigger again.”

He blinked hard, trying to reorient himself. “W-Who—”

“That’s not important right now,” the woman waved away. “I’m just his accountant – I’m fairly certain you’ve at least heard about me in that context. I’m more focused on ensuring your safety, Tsurugi-san.”

Navarre crossed back over, his calm façade a little broken. “Are you alright?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Yashiro said wistfully, but the remark had no real bite to it.

“Do you feel a little more stable now?" the second woman asked him softly, stepping a little closer.

The first woman glanced back at her. "Give it time, Mako-chan... he's only just come to."

“He isn't exactly fragile, Haru,” the second woman murmured, perhaps a remark not meant for Yashiro's ears. She shook her head slightly, then refocused on Yashiro. “Tsurugi-san, the way we understand it based on working under him, you don’t seem to have the best relationship with your father – if returning gives you such a violent reaction still, then what are you doing here?”

“I had to come back,” Yashiro said. “There are things I’d hoped to retrieve from my belongings that I need for my current endeavors, but I’d underestimated just how difficult returning would be. Gods… it’s been five years. I thought I would at least be somewhat past this. I didn’t want to bother any of my friends with my own baggage when they’re all going through their own things right now, but I had to come regardless of how prepared I felt, and I didn’t know he’d taken up such helpful associates. With what just happened, it appears I’m lucky he’s out at the moment.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say we’re so helpful, necessarily,” the first woman - Haru, the other one had called her - stammered, a shyness creeping over her. “Let’s just say we’ve been in different brands of your position before and we wouldn’t wish such experiences on anyone.”

“It’s still immeasurably helpful,” Yashiro reiterated. “Thank you, truly.”

“If you can’t set foot in the estate without breaking down,” the other woman mused, “how are you going to get your things?”

Yashiro didn’t answer – didn’t have an answer. All was silent for a short time before Navarre’s eyes lit up and he crossed to one of the red curtains near a colossal window.

Yashiro laughed almost incredulously as Navarre ripped a strip of fabric right off the bottom of the curtain. “He is going to be pissed.”

“Good,” Navarre snarled as he crossed back and placed the fabric over Yashiro’s eyes. “If anything, I’d love to infuriate him.”

“I’ll lead the way to your room,” Haru chuckled, and then Yashiro felt a pair of soft, gentle hands grabbing his wrists and pulling him out of his chair. “Assuming that’s where you wished to go?”

“Yes,” Yashiro confirmed. “Thank you both again, er…” He trailed off, unsure of how to address either of them. Haru seemed too personal for a first meeting, and he still hadn't caught the other woman's name.

As if she'd read his mind, the second woman said, "Oh - where are my manners? I'm Makoto Niijima."

“Okumura,” Haru filled in. “Haru Okumura.”

Yashiro’s eyebrows lifted as they started off and he was guided up the main staircase. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, Okumura-san, but don’t you have your own company to be running?”

She laughed again, almost ruefully – a chilling sound coming from such a tiny, cheerful voice. “Okumura Foods runs itself these days – right into the ground, that is. We still have a lot of social ground to get back after the political scandal my own father wrapped the company into. I took this job managing your father’s finances in hopes he’ll start to think higher of me and endorse the direction I hope to turn the company.”

Yashiro scoffed. “In my opinion, I’d say you’re wasting your time. Something tells me he won’t give you the time of day unless you at least have something substantially monetary to offer him, and with how little money Okumura Foods has been raking in since its practical cancellation, I don’t think that’s happening.”

“That’s what I told her,” Makoto’s voice corroborated. “It was no use, though – once Haru has her mind set on something, not even I could change it.”

“There’s still a possibility. I know the signs when an investor isn’t interested, or… interested in the wrong things.” Her voice took a down-tilt Yashiro didn’t like at the end, implying she’d once been at the receiving end of the wrong kind of bargain. “I’ve been burned before, so I know when to get out if I need to. Plus, with such an amazing bodyguard, I don’t have a whole lot to worry about in the first place.”

Makoto nervously chuckled. “I wouldn’t call myself a bodyguard…”

Yashiro’s amused chuckle echoed against the winding corridors, meaning they weren’t far from Yashiro’s old room. “What direction were you hoping to take the company, if you’re able to disclose?”

“There’s a café in Yongen-Jaya that’s been one of our greatest joys to visit these past years,” Makoto’s voice chimed in. “It serves truly amazing coffee and curry, and the owner and his family are dear friends of ours.”

“It’s only downfall is the lack of traffic,” Haru continued. “Yongen isn't an oft-traveled area of town, and even when someone who doesn’t live there passes through they’re unlikely to find it due to its location, tucked away into one of its side streets. Our aim isn't to corporatize this café, but just to officially take it into Okumura Foods’ payroll. We’ll properly fund supplies and upkeep and advertise it just a little - keeping the Okumura Foods name out of the ads, as mentioning the brand might steer people away - and hopefully the customers will start pouring in. We’ll only take a miniscule percentage of the café’s earnings, though; our friends founded it first, and they should reap the greater reward. My grandfather started Okumura Foods out of a simple café, no gimmicks or branded food or anything; just love for what he does. I hope to one day meet that aspiration. I’m going to be learning to work at the café as well.”

They slowed; they must have arrived at their destination. “Okumura-san, you already sound as if you’ve achieved your grandfather’s kindness and even surpassed it," he said. "I’m no businessman, so I can’t say for sure if your endeavors will bring your company back from the brink, but even if it doesn’t, I’m sure it would make no difference. You clearly love your craft and whether you were penniless or the richest woman in the world, it wouldn’t matter - you seem happy regardless.”

“T-Thank you,” she shyly replied. “I can’t de-corporatize the company anymore, what with Big Bang Burger’s massive success, but I can try to close some of the distance between us and the consumer in what little ways I can.”

“Regardless of how the public reacts, I think you’ll still be able to revitalize Cafe Leblanc in a way it’s needed for a while,” Makoto agreed. “At any rate, though, we’re here. You’re right in front of the door, Tsurugi-san.”

Tsurugi reached for the handle and found it right away; its location was still muscle memory to him after all these years.

Once inside, Haru’s voice chimed, “Forgive me if any of your belongings are missing or misplaced; your father practically tore this room to shreds when he discovered you were missing, and once I began working with him I took it upon myself to straighten it out. I didn’t know where everything once was, though, so I guessed on a few things.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Yashiro sighed as he reluctantly took off the blindfold. He intensely focused on his assistants rather than the room so they wouldn’t inconvenience themselves any further worrying over his wellbeing.

“Don't mention it.” Makoto’s smile was warm. “We have to leave – Haru will be late for a company meeting if we stay any longer.”

Haru wrapped her small, willowy arms around him, and Yashiro gladly returned her warm gesture. “It’s very easy to find both of us on Topic if you need to talk. Familial abuse is an issue we’ve both struggled to rebound from for the last 6 years or so, and we’ve found talking it out with someone who understands on a personal level helps a lot. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t,” Yashiro replied, releasing the small woman. “Safe travels.”

The two women started to make their way to the door, but as they turned around, Yashiro’s eyes caught on Haru. The white blouse beneath her plum suit jacket had ridden up, and staring straight at Yashiro was a tramp stamp sporting none other than a purple Phantom Thief logo with an extra set of eyes.

Itsuki’s instruction should he meet another Phantom Thief rang through his head, and he called out, “Okumura?”

Both ladies turned around inquisitively.

“Like I said, you won’t get anywhere with Chikaomi when it comes to endorsement and funding,” Yashiro started. “I’d try looking for such a thing at Fortuna Entertainment.” He stressed the company name, hoping the intention in his eyes conveyed his meaning. “We’ve both been through hell, and we’ve most certainly got the yen to back you up, so it’d be practically criminal not to offer assistance.”

A glimmer of knowing swam through the eyes of both Haru and Makoto, but they didn’t seem quite sure if it was coincidence or not. “Fortuna?” Makoto asked. “Your casting agent is Fortuna?”

Yashiro nodded with a placating smile. “Interesting location for a tattoo, Okumura-san,” he chuckled, tugging his own shirt down to let her know hers had ridden up. “Not a place I’d expect from someone as shy as you, especially not for such an incriminating mark.”

Haru’s hands instinctively ran to the small of her back, and she nearly squeaked as she realized her tattoo was exposed, face burning a bright red.

Makoto burst into laughter. “Haru can be a lot scarier than you’d think. We’ll definitely consider your offer, though,” she confirmed as she tugged the collar of her own shirt down to reveal a cerulean Thief tattoo on her collarbone.

Haru sighed, unable to stop blushing. “Now I’m worried about how long people have been able to see it.” Likely acknowledging that she can let her guard down a bit or maybe even inadvertently, little tendrils of Psych magic curled out from her head in her embarrassment.

“I’d help with your blush, but…” Yashiro held out his hand and allowed it to catch fire. “I have a feeling I’d be more detrimental than anything.”

Haru giggled. “Thank you for the offer, Yashiro-san. I really must be going, but we’ll get in touch.”

Haru composed herself enough to stop her magic from escaping, she tugged her shirt down, and they both exited.

Yashiro too turned around, extinguishing his hand. He tried to keep from inwardly cringing as he finally took in the room. New and old furniture alike had been shifted around to cover unbecoming damage to the room that harbored bad memories. The four-poster-bed’s mattress was missing entirely, likely having been too destroyed to salvage; though, that must have happened at Chikaomi’s hand once Yashiro had left. The gauze curtains were torn up, another change from when he’d last been here.

Before he could dwell on the room’s state much longer he crossed the room to the scratched closet doors and pushed them open. The walk-in closet was mostly barren, Yashiro never having had a lot of clothes here in the first place before he'd had to pare his life down to a duffle bag in mere minutes. Still, there were a few suits that Yashiro had never found to his taste that lingered in the closet, collecting dust.

He turned around and gestured towards the closet. “Have at it. Each outfit is already organized with its proper set. You’ve already had an experience with modern pants, the button-up shirts go on the torso first, then vests, then suit jackets.” Yashiro pointed to each article of clothing on his costume as he mentioned it. “Try your best and I’ll help you correct any mistakes.”

“Understood.” Navarre crossed into the closet, but before he shut the door he took one last sweeping look around the room and then back to Yashiro’s gaze. “Yashiro… never once when I was attached to you for those five years did I ever stop to consider why you started out so emotionless, and then so vehemently angry at every waking moment until the others taught you how to properly feel your emotions. Never once did I think about whether your discomfort to being called ‘Master’ was just a passing thing or something deeper. I… I was just so focused on returning to my home world and advancing my life’s objective, even when I had no memory of what it was. Once I’d begun to see you as a comrade-in-arms, you were already beginning to heal, so I didn’t give pause. I quite honestly should have.”

Yashiro’s chuckle was pained, empty. “I don’t want your pity, Navarre. It happened. Now, let’s move on with our lives.”

Navarre’s brow crinkled. “I truly hope you’ll take up Okumura’s offer of someone to speak to concerning these matters. I’d hate to see you return to self-destructive means.” Without any more fanfare, he slid the closet doors shut.

Yashiro sighed and turned toward the attached bathroom, smoke filling his nose as it blew from his nostrils out of stress. Turning on the sink, he ran his hands under the water, the bitter cold grounding him, then looked in the mirror.

He’d hoped never to see that scared, hopeless child again, but here he was all grown-up. He wasn’t nearly as gaunt as he used to be, but he was still thin for his age. A slight sheen of sweat glistened on his pale skin, threatening to stain his costume. Primal fear danced in his heterochromatic eyes. It all made him feel weak, useless for folding at something as simple as entering his childhood home.

But when Yashiro blinked again something happened. A spark of determination accompanied that fear – something his child self hadn’t had. He knew now that he wasn’t as worthless as Chikaomi had made him out to be. He deserved his own happy ending. He had people who cared about him, and maybe, just maybe, he was starting to care about himself.

And the room’s oppressive fog of control lessened just that little bit.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reinvigorated, Yashiro splashed water on his face, dried off the sweat. With one more empowered stare into the mirror, he reentered his room and made a beeline for the battered desk along the wall next to the door, the motion of wrapping his hands around the back-right corner almost like second nature. Pulling back on the desk was not as much of a Herculean effort as it used to be; as he returned to a healthier body composition, his lack of muscle no longer hindered his efforts. He idly coughed at the cloud of dust that kicked back at him as he pried back the poorly-placed wooden panel over the hole in the wall. It was a small little nook he'd paid some contractors to cut into his wall when he was younger and they'd come by for some unnecessary update to the parlor - a small place his father didn't know about, a miniscule zone of control.

Inside the nook, a couple of pillows laid on the floor, ones that his father had been livid to learn that he'd 'lost'. There were no shelves in the space, but as a child he'd spent many midnight hours precariously stacking a small collection of books he'd managed to get his hands on atop one another. Most of them were pointless fantasy or science fiction novels he used as a method of escapism, books his father had called 'mindless drivel' and not allowed him to read because 'he had better things to do with his time'. It had to have been close to 10 years since opening it - once he'd first partnered with Navarre, he'd really had better things to do, or so he thought.

He wasn't looking for any of them, though. The dive into Itsuki's old mythology book had stirred a faint memory of another book he'd spent the time to read once, one that told a story of a waterbending dragon whose mind had torn asunder and taken control of a kingdom you could see, but never name. He had no idea if this book was referring to Anankos or even based in any truth at all, but it was too similar not to pass up. Carefully he tried to pick through the stacked books, trying his best not to topple the tower and make his task any more difficult, but soon enough the flash of a gold-filigreed spine caught his eye, and near the base of the tower was a book titled Lost in the Waves. That rung quite the bell in his mind, and slowly he tried to pry it out without disturbing the rest of the tower.

He couldn't be so lucky, as once it moved just a little, the whole stack came tumbling down, but it didn't matter; it's not like he'd be coming back for the rest of these books, anyway. One quick peek at the first couple of pages confirmed this was the book he was looking for, but he didn't comb through it just yet; he wanted to get out of this place, first.

Before exiting the space, he briefly looked around. It was a lot more cramped now that he was so much taller, and with the collapsed books he could see how the walls had begun to weather under the test of time. He remembered the sleepless nights he'd spend here, reading his worries away and pretending like everything was fine. Wishing he could be whisked away into one of those novels, because despite the potential danger, a sci-fi or fantasy world felt so much easier than the life he'd lived then.

He almost chuckled as his mind traveled to the flames he so often utilized, Navarre still in the room behind him. Funnily enough, he got his wish; it just took him a while to realize it.

With that, he was ready to leave. This place had proven to be a safe haven for quite a while, but now said safe haven had expanded beyond the confines of this tiny little space.

As he was propping the board back up and pushing the desk back, Navarre emerged from the closet. He’d chosen the wine-red three-piece suit, and while he’d gotten most of it on right the vest was on backwards and he held the black tie in his hand, unsure of what to do with it. “I presume this isn’t correct?”

Yashiro chuckled and helped him realign the vest, then took the tie from his hand and tied it perfectly around his neck. “There. Anything too tight?”

“No, it fits rather well,” Navarre replied. “A little tight around the waist, but not uncomfortably so. If anything, it’s a comfort – my armor back home fit similarly.”

“Good.” Yashiro reappraised his appearance and deemed it acceptable for now. “We’re already running late – Tarachino’s bound to be pulling his hair out. We should go; are there any other pieces you’d like to take or just the one for now?”

“Just the one,” Navarre reaffirmed. “If we need anything else, there are other places we could retrieve clothing as Oribe mentioned, yes?”

“Of course.” Yashiro swept his gaze around the room for what he hoped was the last time. When Chikaomi finally croaks and he comes into ownership of the estate once more, he’ll definitely be selling it off and setting the poor staff up for life with a sizeable pension.

His eyes catch on a dusty picture frame sitting on the nightstand. It had moved from its covert place in the drawer below, but that was likely because Haru hadn’t known it went there. His heart softens as he picks it up, runs a thumb over it to wipe off the dust, pushing back the note of anger that blooms as he sees a small hairline crack in the corner of the glass that had likely resulted from Chikaomi's rage. It depicted a very young Yashiro being carried on his mother’s shoulders, both laughing. The strands of gray in her dark hair shine in the sun, and her joyous expression ages her down by many years. Young Yashiro is holding a purple balloon.

He gently places it in a pocket and moves on towards the door.

“Don’t you need your blindfold?” Navarre asked, holding it up.

“No. This place isn’t going to control me anymore.”

The whims of my father carry me no longer.

He forged down the halls, knowing their twists and turns by heart. Whenever he spotted the occasional maid or butler, he smiled and nodded at them. Once they shook past their disbelief of his return, they gleefully returned the gesture.

Finally, when he reached the foyer staircase, he didn’t turn to go down them.

“You said yourself that we’re out of time,” Navarre pointed out. “What are you doing?”

“Tarachino can and will wait for me. I’m giving Father the wake-up call he’s needed for 24 years,” was all Yashiro said as he gravitated toward his father's office. He retrieved the spare key in the potted plant next to the glass door and unlocked it, pushing open the door.

On the right wall sat the prized katana of the Tsurugi family line. Until now Yashiro had never cared much for it – only Chikaomi could take it out of the case until his disappearance, and he had made it clear Yashiro would be thrown out onto the streets if he dared to try and steal it. Then, when Yashiro became the impromptu head of the line and the security was set up to his voice activation rather than his father’s, he’d always felt he wasn’t worthy of such a prestigious katana.

No – it was Chikaomi who wasn’t worthy.

“Here’s to hoping this still works,” Yashiro muttered as he jabbed the security code into the keypad beneath the glass case.

A fingerprint scanner emerged from the wall, and he scanned his hand in nervously. The machine stalled for a few seconds, and for a moment he thought it wasn’t going to work. Not that it made a difference – he had a backup plan that was just a little less legal. Thankfully, though, the identifier retracted and the glass pane slid up.

Yashiro wasted no time in retrieving the katana and looping it into his belt as he grabbed a paperweight with a devious smile and tied a loop of twine ripped form one of the chairs in the corner around it. He hung it from a nail holding up a picture above the glass case and took a candle from the many he knew his father had in the nearby closet, lit it with magic, and placed it beneath the twine. As the twine began to smolder, Yashiro finally strolled out of the room.

“I think I know where you’re going with this, and I can’t even begin to understand how it’s legal,” Navarre sighed.

“Easy.” Yashiro’s smile was wide as he slid down the banister to the bottom of the stairs, katana in hand. “It is, but it also isn’t. Since Chikaomi hasn’t updated the security measures to our family katana, it still technically belongs to me. He’ll know I took it, though, so the paperweight will shatter the glass case when the twine snaps and set off the alarm, evacuating all the staff and attracting police. By then, we'll be on our way out already. Niijima and Okumura are technically at their meeting at this time, so it couldn’t have been them, and if I break the glass he won’t suspect me as easily, so long as he doesn't check the security history and see my entry into the system. With a little luck, he'll just assume a vandal made their way in, or something of the sort. There’s one final touch, though…”

As Yashiro swung his path toward the parlor, Navarre didn’t follow. “Knowing the limits of your rage, I’d rather stay far away from whatever you’re about to do.”

Yashiro’s laugh was almost chilling as he looked back at his partner-in-crime. “Wise choice.”

He swung open the doors to the parlor, stared down the bloodstain, set his hands ablaze and channeled the flame into that spot, charring it away forever. As the fire began to spread through the rest of the floor wildly, he shut the parlor doors once more so it wouldn’t spread to the rest of the home. The fire might catch the parlor doors, but at the very least it won’t spread through the tiles in the foyer.

“I’m ready to go now,” Yashiro said in the most innocent voice he could muster.

Navarre laughed incredulously. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

They made their way out to the chauffeur and stepped into the car, and as they did Yashiro placed Itsuki’s clothes, the picture of him and his mom, the book and the katana into the seat next to the chauffeur.

“When you come back to the estate, things are going to be chaotic,” Yashiro started. “The police will be here, all the staff will be in pandemonium, and it’ll be the perfect time for you to move to your personal car with these so you can’t be tracked and drive them to this address.” Yashiro scrawled out the address of Itsuki’s childhood home – still in his name – and handed it to the chauffeur. “The second window on the right should be cracked open – pop out the screen and slide these through. I’ll be willing to pay you for your troubles if you need me to.”

The chauffeur laughed. “Pay me? I’ve been driving your family and living under the Master’s thumb from the moment he assumed his role as head of household, sir. If you’re causing him trouble, I’ll gladly assist you for free.”

Yashiro kicked back in his seat. “I missed you. Drive us back to set.”

“As you wish, sir.”

As they began to roll off, Navarre’s expression was thoughtful. “I have to know – when you lived here, were all the clothes in your closet suits? And if they were, was that your choice?”

Yashiro smiled. “Do I have to answer?”

“You just gave me an answer with that.”

“I know.”

Yashiro exhaled a sigh of bliss as the limo drove off through the gates, listening to the orchestra of glass shattering, the alarm blaring, and roaring flames.

Chapter Text

“……ey!”

“….Hey!”

Itsuki’s vision slowly returned to a dark, dirty catacomb. A young child engulfed in a black cloak embroidered with gold trim and purple eyes lay on the ground, hood covering their head. The only hint to their appearance he could see was a horribly pale hand outstretched, outfitted in a fingerless leather glove.

Above them stood a young boy, clad in simple leather fatigues. Though it looks like he tried to rough them up a bit, they still betray his very high station, and Itsuki could practically feel the boy’s aura as a Lord. His tanned skin told of many adventures in the sun, and instead of a sword in his belt he carried a worn journal and quill pen.

His gaze moved the boy’s head, and he froze. The boy sported a wild and unkempt head of cerulean hair, and matching, concerned cerulean eyes. This time, though he was younger, the face bore perfect resemblance to Itsuki’s partner-in-crime.

Chrom.

The child on the floor began to stir, fingers twitching. With considerable effort, they slowly rose up on shaky arms, accepting young Chrom’s outstretched hand. A few long strands of snow-white hair fell out from beneath the cowl as they stood, stumbled a bit, then righted themselves.

“Are you okay?” Chrom asked , and the other child nodded. When they didn’t say anything, Chrom continued with, “Can you speak?”

The hooded figure shook their head.

“I see… that’s going to make things harder. I'm no good at sign language.” Chrom placed a hand to his chin, deep in thought, before his eyes light up. “Ah, I know – you can write in the pages of my journal for now.” He unhooks the leather journal and quill from his belt and hands it to the figure. It takes a second for the child to gingerly, timidly accept it, the apprehension clear in their gestures as they flip to a new page.

It’s at this point that the other child takes off their cowl. A young girl about the same age as Chrom is revealed, a sickly pale albino with long hair, strands loosely pinned back to give a formal look to her. Aside the scuffs of dirt on her clothes from where she’d been on the dusty ground, she’s so clean it almost seems as if she’s never even had the opportunity to touch a speck of dirt in her life until now. The cloak itself seems as if it's a little big for her stature, but at times when it opens a little Itsuki can see a simple black dress that reaches halfway down her calves; he can't tell what kind of material it is from the few glimpses he sees, but it looks expensive. Her amber eyes have small hints of red in them, and her eyes hold the worn look of a tired soul, one who has seen too much.

Chrom seems a little concerned, but he quickly buries it with a friendly smile. “My name’s Chrom, and I’m eleven years old,” he greets. “What’s your name?”

The girl stares at him like she’s seen a ghost, but she quickly composes herself and begins writing.

Once finished, she turns the book around for Chrom to see, and he reads it aloud.

‘Hello. My name is Robin. I’m 11, too. Thank you for helping me.’

“Robin, huh?” Chrom asks, then extends a hand to shake. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

Robin lightly shakes his hand, a very faint smile of what seems like relief crossing her features, then writes back a response for Chrom to read.

‘Likewise, Chrom.’

“What are you doing down here?” Chrom asked. “I come down to explore all the time, and I’ve never seen anybody down here. Then again, I haven’t really been this far out through the catacombs yet – maybe you’ve been here this whole time and I never knew.”

The sound of scrawling in Chrom’s journal was very light until Robin turned the little book around once more.

‘No, this is my first time down here. I didn’t know this all existed until today. I was just exploring a bit.’

Chrom moved to say something else but Robin made a quiet sound of realization and held up a finger to wait as she scrawled in the journal again, a spark of excitement in her eyes.

‘Do you go outside a lot? I don’t get to go outside very much, but I really want to know more about what’s out there.’

Chrom’s brow creased in confusion. “Your family doesn’t let you go outside?”

Robin’s expression fell a little as she seemed to hesitate before writing a reply.

‘They’re very protective of me; they won’t tell me why. I only knew about these catacombs because a friend snuck me in. Can you tell me about the outside?’

Chrom’s sympathetic expression quickly grew determined as an idea seemed to come to him. “Sure! I go outside and do research on everything I see all the time! I can show you!”

Robin quietly giggled, and they sat against the floor of the catacombs as Chrom retrieved his journal to start paging through entries. Then, as if the torches in the catacombs had been extinguished, the dank hallway faded into darkness.

. . .

The first thing Itsuki registered in his brain was the rhythmic beeping somewhere to his left. Then, the migraine trying to split his head in half made itself very known. As overhead lights started peeking through his closed eyes, severely dimmed likely for his comfort, he started working on getting those eyes to open.

White walls, pale yellow curtains over a large window and a number of questionable test tubes lining the walls sharpened before him. He looked down at himself and saw a thin blanket and a hospital bed. He was adorned in a flimsy gown. An IV poked out of his forearm.

Uh oh.

“And Sleeping Beauty finally awakens,” drawled a soft, sardonic female voice.

Out of reflex Itsuki pressed a hand to his head, even a voice that soft aggravating his migraine. His bed was tilted into an upright position and its owner was finally revealed.

A pale woman looking to be in her early thirties with a small, messy bun of navy blue hair with black roots sticking out studied him. She wore a lot of black eyeliner, black lipstick and a number of gothic pieces of jewelry. Likely the effect of the hot weather, she wore a cropped tanktop so dark red it was almost black and dark, ripped jean shorts, topped off with thick black platformer heels. There was a tattoo on her right forearm, and Itsuki thought it was of the Death arcana tarot card, but it was hard to tell from where he was sitting.

What had Itsuki doing the double take was the white doctor’s coat that was draped over her shoulders, the edges of the sleeves slightly stained the colors of some of the questionable substances in the test tubes scattered in the room.

She snorted, head resting on her hand, black-painted fingernails tapping on her chin. “That has to be the outfit in contrast with the profession, since I can’t be that hot.”

He quickly reassembled his trains of thought. “Could I ask where—”

“Where you are? Who I am? What day it is?” She stood, slipping on a pair of latex gloves and crossing over to his IV bag and checking it as she talked. “Yes, I’m sure you’re a bit confused. I’ll indulge you if you’ll indulge me, though – I’d love to talk about what phenomenon caused this little episode. While your brain scans are similar to my most consistent patients, they’re a little different than even theirs. I like to experiment and collect rather unorthodox research, if you couldn’t tell.”

Itsuki’s internal alarm started to ring. “Ah, it’s quite difficult to explain. I highly doubt you’d believe me if I told you, and the last thing I need is to be held up here; you’ll surely think I’m mental if I tried to tell you the truth.”

An amused chuckle as she switched out the IV bags. “I understand your concern, but I’ve been clued in on a lot more than you’d think.” As she finished her maintenance, she discarded the gloves and crossed over to the corded landline phone sitting on the desk she’d been sitting at and unplugged it from the wall, then disconnected her computer from the internet. “Security,” was all she said. “I’ve had feds looking in on me before and don’t know if I’m still tapped.” Then she returned to Itsuki’s bedside and extended a pale hand. “Dr. Tae Takemi – primary caregiver to the Phantom Thieves.”

Understanding crossed Itsuki’s mind as he returned Takemi’s gesture. “I see. I’m sure they’ve given you quite the handful,” he chuckled. “I’ll gladly oblige to an observation when I’m not incredibly busy and reeling from a migraine, in that case.”

She nodded. “Perfect. Well, you’re on the second floor of my clinic in Yongen-Jaya. After you became unresponsive, Akira-kun came to visit you and discovered the members of your party attempting to revive you. He rounded them all up, gave me a call and transported you here. That was four days ago.”

Itsuki ran a hand through his hair, the static shock visible between his fingertips. “Four days? God, I hope the company’s alright…”

“From what I understand, your allies brought an old boss into the loop to cover for you at Fortuna Entertainment – even if I hadn’t recognized you, Aoi-san, I certainly recognized your talent as they came to visit you. As your friends have cycled in to see you, I’ve heard passing mentions of previous president Maiko Shimazaki.”

Itsuki groaned. “She’s going to give me an earful…”

Takemi smiled. “I’m fairly certain she’s already given your friends one. Oribe-san was complaining about it to your little boyfriend here last night.”

Itsuki followed Takemi’s gaze to the lounge seat beneath the windowsill, where in the dim lighting Itsuki could just make out the sleeping form of Yashiro. He was curled in almost uncomfortably tight, his very tall frame hardly fitting in the small lounge. A small non-hospital blanket had been tossed over him, but Itsuki could spot that he was still wearing the shirt and pants from his costume for the Sneeze Detective Maho taping he’d been scheduled to do yesterday, if Itsuki had his scheduling correct; the gun holster most have been returned to Daiba as a prop so they could inventory it for their next series.

Finally Itsuki registered that Takemi had recognized they were romantically involved and his eyes widened, trying to think of a good refutation for fear of the doctor telling the press of their relationship…

…until he realized that her expression held no interest or surprise whatsoever.  She simply had a knowing, amused gaze as she looked between the two.

Finally, Itsuki blushed a bit, letting his guard down. “Fiancé, actually. How could you tell?”

She chuckled a little, settling back into her chair. “For one, Tsurugi admitted to having a struggle with coming to visit since seeing you like this likes to wreck his mental state. Then yesterday something seemed to give him a big boost of resolve, and he finally came here with Oribe in the afternoon. She moved in and out as her schedule allowed, but Tsurugi stayed here as long as he physically could. Oribe brought him food, though I couldn’t say her food choices were healthy," she chuckled. "He seemed even more worried about you than Oribe or the third man they had with them, a guy in a suit with really long dark hair, looked like he could be Tsurugi’s cousin or something. And this is all barring the fact that I could tell he's a hanahaki survivor just from looking at him. He’s so worried sick about you that he tried to pull an all-nighter, but when I turned in at about midnight last night I gave him a blanket and told him if he was going to stay here, he could at least take care of himself for your sake. Dunno when he finally passed out but he’s been asleep all day; it’s about four in the afternoon now.”

As Takemi spoke, Yashiro began to stir until Itsuki could see his bleary heterochromatic eyes peering at the doctor.

“Speak of the devil,” Takemi remarked. “I’ve got some good news for you, Tsurugi-san.” She tilted her head towards Itsuki, and Yashiro followed her gesture until he finally noticed Itsuki was awake and his eyes widened.

“Itsuki!” he exclaimed, bolting up from his lounge seat and wrapping Itsuki in a tight hug. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t wake for a while yet... I didn’t know what to do, or what would have happened if Kurusu-san hadn’t come to visit. I never should have let you overwork yourself like that when it was supposed to be a day of relaxation, and… and I take full responsibility for letting you go out there when you should have stayed home.”

“Hey, hey.” Itsuki stopped Yashiro’s tirade. “I admit we should have thought of a better plan going in there, but if we hadn’t when we did, Navarre would be captured or worse. Besides, I don’t think this episode was caused by overwork… it was a little weird even for the brand of oddities we already experience. This was not your fault in any way.”

Yashiro smiled softly at his response, averting his gaze. "...I do suppose you likely would have gone in there on your own if I'd refused to help. I know you, after all."

Itsuki chuckled. "Then you know it was good that you came with me. I don't think things would have turned out very well if it'd just been me and Navarre."

Yashiro nodded, but his expression seemed to turn very thoughtful. "If the trip wasn’t the cause of such an episode, though, do you know what did cause it?”

“Maybe,” Itsuki confirmed, “but it’s tied up with a lot of backlogged information I need to give you and the others. I’d rather explain when I’m not chained to a hospital bed, though – when do you think I’ll be able to be discharged, Takemi-san? I really can’t stay in one spot for too long without going insane wanting to do something productive, and I’ve been very behind in that regard.”

Takemi grimaced a bit. “I’d like to keep you close by for more observation… it’s questionable whether your body could handle another episode like that for the next day or so.”

Itsuki deflated a bit. “I guess you’re right – I know I’m certainly not in the greatest health.”

“I wasn’t finished, Aoi,” Takemi continued. “I’m doubtful your body could take another episode, but if its cause is what I think it is, then it’s highly unlikely you’ll experience another one for quite some time, at least. If you’re comfortable with my asking, do you know if this malady was Metaverse-related?”

“Well, we don’t quite use the Metaverse,” Itsuki explained, “but we think the Metaverse operates on a very similar – if not the same – plane as the worlds we’ve been traveling through. So… yes, if this theory is right.”

“Then I think you’ll be fine,” Takemi corroborated, “but if I discharge you, I’d like you to stay in Yongen until tomorrow, just to be sure.”

“I think that’s an acceptable deal,” Itsuki agreed.

“Where will we stay?” Yashiro asked. “This corner of Tokyo is very charming, for sure, but I haven’t seen any hotels.”

Takemi smiled. “The neighborhood is so small that we don’t have any, but just down the street stands a quaint little café – the pride and joy of Yongen. Stop by Leblanc and you might find a few familiar faces behind the counter who would offer you a place to stay for the night.”

Yashiro’s eyes lit up in understanding. “I see... I have heard good things about Leblanc.”

“The best coffee and curry you’ll ever have,” Takemi replied before turning back to Itsuki. “Now, I want you to take it easy today. Nothing too strenuous, and don’t even think about any activity in other worlds.”

“I definitely wasn’t planning on it,” Itsuki confirmed. “Now, get me out of these things. I’m ready to go.”

Itsuki was quickly unhooked and his belongings were returned to him. Once back in his own clothes, he and Yashiro were walked out to the lobby. The clinic was largely empty – it must have been a slow day.

“Kurusu has my number if you need me at any hour of the day or night,” Takemi said. “I’m sure he’s told you he lives around here. I don’t have my phone on me, so we can’t exchange Topics right this minute.”

“We’ll consult him if there’s an emergency,” Yashiro promised. “All the best, Takemi-san.”

With that, they walked out into the painfully bright Yongen afternoon, trying to stick to the shadows both for Itsuki's comfort and in the hopes that the few people along the streets wouldn't recognize either of them. Itsuki had to squint, but once his migraine stopped protesting, he looked around. The alleyways were quaint, almost patched-together, but they felt very comforting at the same time. The streetways were populated by a few older men and women, but it wasn’t nearly as crowded as a Shibuya streetway would have been.

“Café Leblanc…” Yashiro muttered, leading Itsuki out of the clinic’s nook and looking around.

They passed a few tiny shops before turning into another alley and spotting a red canopy with a sign reading Leblanc above it. Stopping before the glass door, Itsuki sighed before pushing it open.

The café itself was quaint and vintage, old wooden stools lining the bar and retro booths filling the open space next to it. A small TV in the corner droned the news at a low volume. Random pictures adorned the walls.

But what caught Itsuki’s attention was the man in the tiny kitchen nook, stirring a large pot of some kind of stew-like substance that filled the café with a wonderful smell.

Akira looked up in response to the ring of the door’s bell, wiping his hands on a nearby towel before starting to pull at the ties of his green apron, and smiled. “Glad to see you’re okay, Aoi. Are you two hungry?”

Chapter Text

It started to rain outside as Itsuki and Yashiro were quickly seated, and before they could blink two plates of curry were placed before them.

“House specialty,” Akira explained. “Recently updated with just a little bit of Metaverse curatives, now that we can access it again - I was cooking a batch for our next Palace, whenever it may pop up. It helps power our magic; I figure it’ll do the same for you. It isn’t spicy or anything, if that’s a worry.”

“Thank you,” Yashiro nodded.

“I take it you have otherworldly things to discuss, if you came here so quickly. Let me go close up shop - do you guys mind if I stay, or should I go out?”

“You’re fine,” Itsuki replied. “It doesn’t matter all that much if you hear this, but I do appreciate you making sure other people don't.”

With a curt nod, Akira walked and flipped the door’s sign to Closed, then retreated back behind the counter to fiddle with what looked to be a homemade coffee brewer made out of a number of beakers and test tubes. “Coffee should be out soon.”

“Is Tsubasa with Navarre?” asked Itsuki, now turning to Yashiro.

“That depends," the actor said. "We didn’t want to leave him alone when he still doesn’t know all the basics of this world, so we’ve had him with one of us whenever we could, but any time everyone’s been busy we’ve had him wait in your apartment. He’s told us fascinating adventures of how he’s come to understand some of the appliances at home,” he added with a chuckle.

“I would have paid money to see that,” Itsuki laughed back. “Let me text her and see if they can come over.” Itsuki brought out his phone, but when the screen lit up he winced as the migraine gave a large protest. “…Or maybe not.”

Yashiro’s chuckle had a worried undertone as he brought out his own phone. “Let me. Kurusu – we’ll be expecting two others soon. Keep an eye out for Tsubasa Oribe at the door.”

Akira snorted, shaking his head. “If you’d said that to me and I hadn’t known her when we were kids, I would have said you were crazy," he started, then turned his gaze to Itsuki, "and if you’d told me when we were kids that someday I’d be starstruck over your best friend as an idol, I would have teased you for years.”

Itsuki shook his head lightly. “Try not to be too much of a fanboy. She’s still the same old Tsubasa.”

Akira nodded as he retrieved two mugs from the upper cupboards and started to pour the finished coffee. “Gotcha. How do you two usually like your coffee?”

“Black,” Yashiro replied as he turned back to Itsuki and put away his phone. “They’re on their way.”

“I’ll just have one cream and one sugar,” Itsuki replied.

Akira swooped in with their fixed coffee and just as quickly was behind the counter again, wiping it down.

“Being honest, I never took you as someone interested in owning a café,” Itsuki said, breaking the silence.

Akira laughed, but he didn’t stray from his task. “I didn’t either. It’s a very long story, but it looks like you have a bit of time to kill before Tsubasa-chan arrives, so I’ll try to give you the short version." He sighed. "You know how my parents were – back in Inaba I was confined to school and my bedroom. My whole life was studying. Then, I got arrested trying to save a woman from an assault in 2016… I later discovered the offender was an influential politician with the police in his pocket, so that’s why he had no issues suing me out of everything and leaving his name out of it.”

The counter now spotless, he glided to the bathroom in the back and came back out with a mop and bucket. The way he moved was fluid; he never stopped moving no matter what task he was changing to and what he was talking about, the hallmark of someone who had done this routine hundreds, maybe thousands of times.

As he started to mop the floor, he continued his story. “Itsuki’s heard this part – I got placed on a year’s probation, sent here to Tokyo to live for the duration. Apparently, a customer here knew my parents and recommended I be sent to live with Sojiro Sakura, the owner of this café. Without another word spoken to me they’d kicked me onto a train, forced me to change my name and here I was… unbelievably shy, my life turned upside-down. Hated by my family and constantly having an internal panic attack.” His half-hearted laugh was almost broken as his mopping stalled for a few seconds, but he quickly shook his head and continued. 

“Then on my first day of school in the city, I stumbled into the Metaverse, I awoke to Arséne, and the rest is history. The friends I made in that year taught me how to come out of my shell and stand up to others more consistently. Without the constant of being forced to study, I was able to go outside for fun and learn more about myself. Like - did you know I’m a theatre kid?” This chuckle had more heart in it as his mopping finally returned to its original vigor. “I certainly didn’t.

“Through this time, while Sojiro was very cold to me at first, we learned to coexist and later became quite the tight-knit family. You should meet my sister – she’s a bit of a handful sometimes, but she’s got a heart of gold and if you need any sort of hacking or coding done, she’ll take care of it in record time. In fact, she’s probably watching the Leblanc bug now, wondering what’s going on.” Akira paused in cleaning, turned to the TV monitor, and waved at what Itsuki could now spot as the tiniest wiretap bug he had ever seen. There was no way that Itsuki could see that indicated whether it was actively being watched or not, but Akira seemed to know how to tell as his knowing smile grew. He didn't say anything about it, though; just as quickly, he returned to his work.

“Anyway, a stipulation of my probation was that I would get a job, and though I did and still do pick up a few part-time gigs, working in the café took care of that all by itself. I thought I would hate it, but when I tried it for the first time, I figured out that I’d never been so happy working in my life. Once Sojiro warmed up to me, he actively taught me all the ropes and now, since Futaba isn’t interested in inheriting the café, I’m set to inherit it when he gets too old to run it.”

Yashiro nodded. “Your transformation reminds me quite a bit of my own, Kurusu. I’m glad it worked out in the end.”

“I’m honestly surprised you got off scot-free,” Itsuki said, “and that no one seems to recognize you from the news. Even I heard about the day every news station reported you dead in police custody. Gods, I was a mess that day.”

“Yeah,” Akira chuckled, as if it were a fond recollection rather than a chilling memory – though that haunted look swimming behind those pupils told the true story of what the younger cousin felt about that day, and suddenly Itsuki clocked the number of pale battlescars dotting his cousin's skin of any and all varieties, healed enough that they were almost imperceptible. Many of them were in places that once shone new on a mugshot that had been pushed out across every news station in the nation six years ago. He wasn't sure if Akira was conscious of how he'd lightly scratched a particularly thick one on his cheek before he forged on. “That one’s really complicated. That politician I mentioned forced my—”

Akira cut off, that haunted and now forlorn look in his eye floating to the surface as the mop paused. He screwed his eyes shut and continued.

“…Let’s just say our relationship was complicated. The point is, though, he was forced to betray us and kill me. We used Metaverse shenanigans to fake my death. I would have warned you, but tons of feds, both bought and genuine, were tapping my messages and it would have given our plan away. Not texting you afterward was completely on me, though – sorry.”

“Things were hectic, for you when it happened and then for me right after. I don’t blame you,” Itsuki replied. 

“Good,” Akira sighed in relief.

“You said you joined Sakura’s family,” Itsuki said. “Is that officially in the books? How did you escape the monsters?”

As Akira traded his mop for a feather duster and started dusting the pictures on the left wall, he chuckled. “They escaped me, if you can believe it. Once the whole ‘disgrace’ of the false conviction happened, as you’d expect, they practically disowned me – even after I eventually got my record overturned. Once my probation was over, I was legally required to go back to Inaba because I was still under twenty, so the other Thieves drove me back. They dropped me off in town, but when I finally got to my house, it was empty. Even the decorations and the furniture - it was all gone. The only room they didn't touch was mine. They sent me one check, and then from there they never contacted me again. 

“I had a few friends at home who still liked me after everything, but they were all just as busy with their own lives as I was with mine, so I was largely alone for those months… and after discovering that I really need human contact to thrive, it almost killed me. I was just going through the motions each day - wake up, sometimes have time to eat, work a shit job for most of the day to be able to just barely afford staying in that house, then get back really late and contemplate how meaningless it all was. I started wondering if my friends really cared about me or if they were just checking in every once in a while out of obligation as former ‘coworkers,’ in a sense. It didn't help any that I was still really raw emotionally over Goro's death, either."

"Goro?" Itsuki inquired. "You mean that Akechi kid you and the Yoshizawa twins used to romp around with before your parents cooped you up inside?"

Akira nodded. "It makes sense you don't know with the whole news blackout on your end, but he made a pretty big name for himself as a celebrity detective. It turned out he was the one that politican was pulling the strings of to have me and countless others killed through the Metaverse - all those those mental shutdown and psychotic breakdown incidents were his doing." Akira sighed. "I tried to save him, and it looked promising for a while, but... it just wasn't meant to be. He died trying to buy us time to reach his employer and change his heart."

"Akira, I..." Itsuki trailed off, sparing a quick glance at Yashiro. He'd managed to save his own rival from the edge, so he couldn't think of anything to say that conveyed his condolences without sounding insensitive or being something he's likely heard hundreds of times. Yashiro seemed to be at that same loss, looking away from the self-made barista in an attempted form of awkward apology.

"I know what you're trying to say," Akira replied as he crossed to the wall behind the counter, starting his dusting on that side. "I appreciate the thought."

Itsuki chuckled awkwardly. "Good. How did you end up here, then?"

"Well, as I'm sure you've realized, I was spiraling pretty hard and it didn't end very well," Akira sighed. "That last day I was there… I remember lying on this old, stained couch I worked myself to the bone to buy, just lying still, looking at the ceiling.” His hands stalled. “I hadn’t moved in a couple of days, hadn’t gone to work, hadn’t responded to any messages. Itsuki, you remember Detective Dojima from down the street, right? Well, he eventually busted down my door when I wasn’t answering his calls and he found me there. I don’t remember this at all, but he tells me I was practically skin and bones.

“He brought me to the local hospital - his nephew has his medical practice there, I think - and he rooted through my phone to call my friends. Apparently they’d already been on the road to check on me, since I obviously hadn’t been answering their messages. The next thing I remember is every single one of them busting through the hospital door in pure panic. I had to stay there for a couple of weeks to restabilize, and then I got moved to Takemi’s clinic for my outpatient and therapy stuff once I was able. For months I was pretty much never without a fellow Thief at my side. I… I think if I’d been left on that couch for another hour, I would have died.” Another broken chuckle; laughing must be his coping mechanism. “That was enough grounds for Sojiro to fight for me in court, but it wasn’t much of a fight. My parents were long gone, so he won by default and adopted me until I was twenty. I’ve been here ever since.” He finally finished off his dusting, taking care around a large painting by the door that looked newer than the others, titled ‘Sayuri.’

“Akira…” Itsuki, at a loss for words, looked on at his cousin. “You could have called me. I would have been all too happy to have you in my apartment. If you’re really that much into theatre, maybe you could have been able to join our team.”

Akira sighed. “The memories of that time are fuzzy, but I think I considered it at least once. Might have even stalked your Topic profile for a bit when Tsubasa rose to stardom, so I could see what was up without looking like a weird lurker on her profile. I just didn’t want to bother you, since you seemed so busy.”

“I’m never too busy for family, Kira.”

Akira snorted. “Kira?”

“What? I have to come up with new nicknames since you don’t use Ren anymore. Do you not like it?”

Akira shook his head incredulously. “Always with the nicknames… I don’t mind it. But, yeah – don’t worry about me. I’m in a much better place now compared to where I was.”

“Great,” Itsuki said, relieved. “Well, if you ever do need anything, all you need to do is call. I can most likely help.”

When Akira turned around, storing the duster back in its place, his smile was warm. “Thanks, Itsuki.”

The sound of someone knocking on glass filled the café, and everyone turned to spot Tsubasa waving through the window, wearing her old school uniform with her hair in a messy topknot and sporting a thick pair of sunglasses. She pulled a curious Navarre in tow, exploring his surroundings. Navarre was sporting a crisp wine-red suit, its familiarity nagging at Itsuki. Both of them were mildly soaked from the light rain that had been rhythmically pounding on the windows and giving a calm and cozy ambience to the café.

“There they are,” Yashiro commented as Akira crossed over and unlocked the door to let them in.

Chapter Text

Instantly Tsubasa rushed past Akira with a clipped greeting and threw herself around Itsuki, hugging him tight as the heavy sunglasses slipped off her face. “You’re alright! I’m so glad you’re awake!”

“Geez – easy, Tsubasa,” Itsuki chuckled. “I need air to stay awake, you know.”

Sheepishly she retreated, her excitement and relief still brimming through her smile.

“Damn,” Akira laughed. “You were right, Itsuki; she hasn’t changed one bit.”

Tsubasa turned back around and as she finally registered that the man she’d passed was Akira, her eyes widened in disbelief. “…But you certainly have! I didn’t recognize you, Akira-kun!”

He accepted her enthusiastic hug. “That’s alright. A lot’s changed since I stopped visiting, after all – but this isn’t about me. We’ll all catch up later.” He gestured his head toward Itsuki. “I think you have some more important catching up to do.”

Tsubasa nodded as she took a seat next to Itsuki in the booth. “We’ll definitely get back in touch soon!”

Navarre, without much regard to Akira, sat next to Yashiro. In this lighting, it was even more surreal to Itsuki just how much alike the two looked. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Aoi.”

Itsuki chuckled at Navarre’s blunt sentiment. “Thanks, Navarre.”

“How have you been handling the trains?” Yashiro asked his doppelganger. “This was your first time getting around without a driver, yes?”

“Second,” Tsubasa corrected. “I kinda had a feeling that it'd draw attention if I was spotted heading for a backroad like Yongen when I didn’t have any scheduled events here, so a disguise on the trains was the best way to go.” She waved her hands down towards her old uniform. “I took him for the first time when we went to visit Itsuki, the day before your whole… thing.”

Itsuki paused. “Whole thing?”

“Later,” Yashiro dismissed.

“How you people can stand being crushed in those trains like an overfilled quiver of arrows is beyond me,” Navarre cut in. “It holds no dignity and it’s highly uncomfortable, and navigating each checkpoint in between is like a maze." He huffed a little. "Still, despite this, I must acknowledge that it’s an efficient way to travel for magicless beings; I've never moved so fast without any sort of magical aid.”

As Akira silently swooped in with curry plates for Tsubasa and Navarre and swept away the empty plates of Itsuki and Yashiro, Tsubasa sighed. “So… what happened, Itsuki?”

Itsuki gave a returning sigh, warming his hands on his coffee. “I have a lot of backed-up information to give all of you. I’d had a vision the night Tsubasa figured us out and never got to tell it to you because I seized up and lost consciousness. That seems to have happened because of a weird sort of vision that wasn’t like the others. This one… it almost felt like it was being forced into me, and as you can see, it sort of made my body overload. Then while I was passed out I had a third vision, this one being more like the first.”

“Looks like we’re in for the long haul,” Yashiro commented.

“Don’t hold your breath.” Itsuki’s wry smile held a bit of ironic amusement. “Two of them don’t seem to hold a lot of significance yet. They were kind of random, being honest, so they’ll be short.”

“Well, let’s not waste any time,” Yashiro said. “Let’s hear it before something happens to you again.”

Itsuki sipped his coffee again and looked down at the cup. “Alright.

“This first one happened when Yashiro, Navarre and I returned from the other world. There were two young teenage nobles staring out from the walls of a large, elaborate castle; one of them was most definitely Caeda and, while I never got to see his Mirage form in all the chaos when Medeus tried to break free, the aura of the boy with her almost exactly matched that of the Hero-King Marth’s.”

Tsubasa’s eyes had locked onto Itsuki’s when Caeda’s name crossed the conversation. “How did she look?! Was she safe? Was she happy?”

Itsuki shook his head at his friend’s excitable antics. “Tsubasa, she was clearly a few years younger than she looked when we knew her. I think this was long before she ever found herself in our world.” He stretched backwards a bit, eliciting a few cracks from his spine he knew resulted from being hunched over a desk all day for the last 5 years straight. In the midst of the stretch he moved his bad shoulder in slow circles and was delighted to feel that the extra stiffness the cold had instilled in it was only temporary, at least for now. Regardless, as he stretched back, he continued.

“Marth had mentioned that Caeda was ditching some lessons with a tutor, and she said that she did to check on him, asked how he was feeling and said that it had officially been a year since he came to stay there. Marth expressed feeling like a coward for abandoning his people in their time of need, but Caeda reassured him that he’d done the right thing and would return for them when he was able. Then she was whisked away by some sort of staff for her lesson.”

Navarre made a thoughtful noise. “A scene like that sounds similar to how I’ve heard Marth’s years in Talys described.” He cleared a space on the table to roll the map out once again.

“When Medeus rose to power against us for the first time and partnered with Emperor Gharnef of Khadein, he united his nation with Macedon and Grust launched an attack on Archanea, Altea, Aurelis and Gra, starting the War of Shadows.” As Navarre named each continent, he pointed to its location on the map. “Marth’s father Cornelius left Altea with the Falchion in hand, ready to strike down Medeus, as Marth and his sister Elice awaited his return.

“The next they would hear of him would be the report of his death at the hands of Gra’s King Jiol, as the nation had defected to Medeus’ legions. Gralean soldiers attempted to kidnap Marth to prevent him from venturing out in search of the Falchion, but with the help of his soldiers and many months of hard work, he managed to flee to the allied island nation of Talys, ruled by Caeda’s father King Mostyn; though, in exchange Princess Elice was captured and one of Marth’s soldiers, Frey, was thought to be killed. As it was small enough to be overlooked by Medeus, Marth took refuge in Talys for two years until he was deemed worthy to find the Falchion and face Medeus.” Navarre crossed his arms. “In all the time I’ve known the king, there are few things Marth cares more deeply for than his subjects. I imagine it wreaked havoc on his mind to leave them behind in enemy hands.”

“I see,” Itsuki commented. “That provided some needed context, but I still don’t know why I’m being shown such arbitrary visions.”

“Many things happen for a reason,” Yashiro replied. “It doesn’t always reveal itself right away, but I’m sure it will – especially for an occurrence so strange.”

“Yashiro’s right,” said Tsubasa. “We just need to wait for that reason to show itself, no matter how much it’s taking its sweet time. Taking notes on them and keeping us in the loop certainly doesn’t hurt, though. What was the other vision that was similar?”

Itsuki nodded. “Right. With this one, I have a feeling we won’t be able to get any clarity on its context for a little while, at least. It was set in this dark abandoned catacomb and followed Chrom as a child. He was trying to rouse another child engulfed in a strange cloak who’d fallen on the ground. It wasn’t a girl we know, as far as I'm aware – she didn’t look like anyone we’d met, and she called herself Robin. He managed to help her up and ask her if she was okay. She was mute, and Chrom admitted he wasn’t any good at sign language, so he gave her a journal that seemed pretty important to him so she could write her responses.

“Robin and Chrom introduced themselves to one another, and Chrom asked if she’d always been down in the catacomb - he said he explored them often, but that he hadn’t traveled that far before. After explaining it was her first time down there, she asked Chrom if he could tell her about the outside world. Evidently, she was very sheltered and wished to learn more about the world she wasn’t allowed to see. So, they sat side-by-side in the hallway and Chrom began to show her earlier pages in his journal. That’s when I woke up in Dr. Takemi’s clinic.”

“Hmm…” Yashiro leaned over the table, lost in thought. “You’re right – no way to make sense of that until we meet with one of our allies from Chrom’s time. It’s good to know, though.”

“And the last vision?” Navarre inquired. “You mentioned it was different from the others.”

“Yeah,” Itsuki sighed. “It was really patched-together and a lot of information to process. It was made of only colored silhouettes, and only had a little bit of quiet sound near the end. None of it had a lot of context, either, and it didn’t seem to tell a story we’d heard from the worlds of any of our Mirage partners. It first followed the story of a man and woman, two adults; the man was shown in a cream-like color, and the woman was a light blue. I saw snippets of them turning away from two grouped families, eventually banding the two groups together and facing a dragon that looked a lot like the depiction of the Silent Dragon in the mythology book. 

“The woman raised a shell locket from her neck with magic, and her silhouette disintegrated as the locket began to crack. With her aid, the dragon was felled. Then it switched to the point of view of a young girl shown in lavender as she watched the man from the first set of scenes being dragged away by enemies, injured. The girl reached out to him, but two teenage boys in a pale yellow held her back - one of them was definitely the Mirage that sought out our help. The images started to flash faster and I couldn’t make them out all that well, but the gist of it seemed to be that the girl and the Mirage were fighting a war much bigger than their relatives had, one that lasted a while; I watched them grow up throughout the images.

“Finally, the images slowed down on a scene showing a series of noble-looking young adults, three women and three men, four of them holding differently-colored weapons I assume to have some sort of special meaning, like the Falchion. The Mirage was arguing with the now-teenaged girl over a special-looking sword, swirled in cream and lavender, that had been cracked all along the blade; it looked as if it would shatter with one swing. I assume she’d had a hand in cracking it. The other boy that had helped to save the girl's life all that time ago almost looked like he was watching from the shadows, not wanting to get involved. The Mirage and the girl argued for a while, and the scene started to crack until it jumped to her standing before some kind of figure covered up by an ominous, deep purple haze. That purple haze was forced into the girl, and she started to destroy the land around her and her friends, including that Mirage, as if under some sort of possession. She screamed, and that’s when I passed out.”

Tsubasa’s brow was drawn in worry. “That's... a lot. This must be the world of that Mirage, right?"

"It's the most logical conclusion to draw," Yashiro murmured, his own expression unsettled. "Unfortunately, it doesn't bode well for what we'll be up against." He hummed thoughtfully before continuing. “The first images of the man and woman uniting two families and fighting the Silent Dragon may represent the previous struggle their world had with him; Itsuki’s mentioned that our mystery Mirage has dealt with him before. That battle could be what shattered the relic.” Yashiro retrieved said relic from a pocket inside his suit jacket, and to Itsuki’s surprise it seemed to repel Yashiro’s touch as he placed it on the table.

“That’s new,” Itsuki chimed in. “It repels you?”

Yashiro furrowed his brow, but after a second understanding washed over him. “Ah, right. We wanted to keep it safe while you were unconscious, so we’ve been taking turns guarding it. That was the first thing we discovered when we decided to do so – the relic repels our skin. You’re the only one who has no issue touching it.”

“Whenever I can actually get it in my grip, it’s almost like a burning sensation on my fingertips,” Tsubasa relayed. “It doesn’t actually leave a burn, and the feeling isn’t really painful, but it’s strange.”

Yashiro and Navarre turned their heads to Tsubasa, confused. “You never mentioned that to us,” Navarre commented.

She blinked in surprise for a brief moment before what was happening seemed to dawn on her. “Oh... I thought we were all feeling that, but it makes sense that you haven't - you both wear gloves,” Tsubasa said, pointing at the matching silk gloves the former Mirage and Master wore. “It must not have directly touched your skin.”

Itsuki tentatively picked up the relic, as if afraid that it had suddenly decided to repel him, too. When it offered no resistance and was the same small rock as ever, he tied it back around his wrist, wary. “Weird.” Shaking his head, he turned his gaze back to the group. “Something tells me that's important to figure out, but we should probably parse out the older information as best we can before we cover the new developments. As long as the relic hasn’t been threatening your safety, it can wait for now," Itsuki continued. "Speaking of the relic, though... I think its original form was a shell locket. One of the images in that vision was of the long-haired woman raising a shell locket, then disintegrating as it started to crack. This was right after Silence’s silhouette was shown. The Mirage mentioned that his mother damned her soul to eternal torment in exchange for using the relic’s full power, and using that full power to seal the dragon shattered it.”

“That seems like a safe assumption,” Yashiro corroborated. “The long-haired woman must be the Mirage’s mother, in that case.”

“It’s getting really hard not to confuse all these people with each other…” Tsubasa groaned, laying her head down on the table. “Do you think you’d be able to draw them, even if they’re just silhouettes?”

“I mean…” Itsuki worried at his bottom lip a bit. “I wouldn't call myself a bad artist, but I don’t think I could get the intricacies of them down, even if they’re just silhouettes.”

“One of the Thieves is a professional artist,” Akira interjected. As Itsuki looked over he spotted the barista sitting on a stool behind the counter, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention to whatever was on the screen since he was clearly invested in their conversation. “Because of our line of work, he’s particularly gotten good at sketch artistry. I can give you his Topic, if you’d like. Just be warned that he might become quite the fanboy if he meets Tsurugi in person.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t handled before,” Yashiro reassured with a chuckle. “We’d be glad to receive his Topic.”

“I’ll check in with you about that when all this is sorted,” Itsuki told his cousin before returning his train of thought to the rest of the vision. “After their first conflict with Silence was over, something happened to the man the Mirage’s mother was with, who I feel like had to have been pretty high in ranking with the army. His silhouette looked different enough in this scene that I feel like it might have been at least a few years since the last scene. He was injured, being dragged away by enemies as the girl I was following reached out for him – she was fairly young here.”

“Perhaps an ambush?” Navarre suggested. “Did anything stand out about these enemies?”

“No. Their silhouettes were colored the same dark purple that took control of the girl later on. Silence’s dragon form was also mired in that dark purple haze.”

“Then we can assume that shade of purple represents Silence and his lackeys.”

Itsuki nodded. “That event could be what kickstarted a new war in the name of Silence – one that’s lasted many years in their world, since I essentially watched the girl and the Mirage grow up on the front lines with a series of other children.”

Tsubasa shook her head in disbelief. “Growing up during a war… I don’t want to know what that would do to your brain. I guess we’re lucky we only fought in the Idolaspheres for a year.”

Yashiro nodded solemnly. “War is a horrid thing to experience even in adulthood. What it can do to a child’s psyche… none of us were even twenty by the time we fought Medeus, and look at us. We’re all a mess,” he admitted with a broken chuckle.

“I can confirm that the Thieves are no different,” Akira divulged. “I wouldn’t necessarily call what we went through a war, but it was traumatizing nonetheless. We had three eighteen-year-olds, but they were our oldest, whereas Sumire was barely fifteen when she had her first traumatic Metaverse experience.”

Itsuki dipped his head in somber acknowledgement. “The impressive thing is the drive these children had to finish what was started, even if they’ve had to call upon us for help.”

“Hang on - the broken sword…” Tsubasa interjected, mind jumping to another thought that seemed to have just popped out to her. “You said it was a swirl of cream and lavender?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Then it must have belonged to the man defeated by Silence’s troops,” she connected. “He represented cream in your vision. The lavender represented the girl, so she must have taken it up in his place, and if her friends were mad at her, then I bet it was something she was involved in that managed to crack it.”

“Then it seems we have the beginnings of some identifiers for our main people of interest," Yashiro finished. "We have the Mirage who sought our help, represented in yellow. His mother is all but confirmed to be the woman in sky blue, who gave her life to seal Silence and shattered the locket. On the other hand, there's a high-ranking man in cream. If the man’s sword was taken up by the lavender girl, that points evidence toward her being his daughter, assuming that specialized weapons are passed down through generations in this time.”

“Two families,” Navarre concluded. “Torn apart by Silence. Sickening.”

“The Mirage mentioned using our Performa to circumvent the need of a relic he called the Seal of Flames,” Itsuki brought up. “He said that the person he needs to use it is indisposed, and he looked fairly hurt when he brought it up. The lavender girl and the Mirage seemed to care a lot for one another, and if she was possessed by Silence as the vision indicated, then I’d say that counts as ‘indisposed.’ He also mentioned that the Seal was compromised, and that would line up with the sword being broken.”

The sound of paper moving caught Itsuki’s attention and as he looked at Navarre he noticed that the swordmaster was writing in a worn leatherbound journal he’d procured, using a pen likely left on the table by a forgetful customer. “A relic called the Seal of Flames… noted. It sounds similar to my world’s Binding Shield – the Fire Emblem. It contains four pearls that, when combined within the shield, grant the user one wish. The legend is that the land’s champion would combine the pearls and use their one wish to save the world from calamity. King Marth fulfilled this legend twice over; Caeda sacrificed her wish the second time, as Marth's had already been taken. This is likely what manifested as the Emblem Opera in this world. Powerful, almighty and highly dangerous in enemy hands.”

“Just the three things we want to hear,” Itsuki quipped back wistfully before resting his head in a hand and continuing. “The four other royals in the scene with the broken Seal looked very similar to some of the members of the two families in the beginning of the vision. I can only assume they’re related, likely fellow children of the army. They all held weapons I saw among both families earlier, so I can only assume they hold some special purpose as well.”

“Perhaps they were meant to act as their world’s equivalent to the pearls Navarre mentioned,” Yashiro offered. “There are four of them, and if they seem so important then it would make sense, especially if the shield had evolved into a sword. It could follow that the pearls became weapons of their own.”

“Very possible.”

“The rest of the vision seems straightforward,” Tsubasa said. “The lavender girl makes a deal with a dark purple figure that must be a form of Silence. He possesses her, and she regrets it.”

Itsuki nodded. “It’s a lot to wrap our heads around, but the good news is we’ll have some time to do it. I’ve been given orders for no otherworldly activity for a little while.”

Yashiro stood, stretching a bit. “We need to come up with a plan to get past Navarre’s assailants, anyway. Not to mention, we need to teach you how to swordfight left-handed. Your shoulder will be destroyed if you push it too hard, and we can’t risk that." He suddenly stalled a little, the more he thought about it. "I’m right-handed, though… I wouldn't be the greatest teacher.”

Itsuki moved to protest, but the weight of Yashiro’s words processed in his brain and he paused. His fiancé was right - If Itsuki lost all meaningful use of his shoulder… it would be devastating, for both this adventure and for his daily life.

“I’m unsure of how effective of a teacher I'd prove to be, but I’m left-handed,” Navarre offered with a tentative shrug. “Give me a spacious area to demonstrate and I’m glad to oblige. I may not understand your ‘performing arts’ even after all these years, but my artistry with a blade can't be too different of a skillset to learn.”

Itsuki smiled. “I can’t wait, Navarre.”

Tsubasa yawned, standing as well. “I should get home before the trains shut down. Navarre, you can stay with me – Kiria is staying at her own place tonight, and I’m sure we’d all rather have that over leaving you at their apartment overnight when someone could visit looking for one of them," she said, jabbing a thumb at Itsuki and Yashiro.

Navarre stood, nodding curtly. “Of course. Goodnight, Aoi, Yashiro.”

As Tsubasa donned her sunglasses again and she led Navarre out of the café with a “Goodnight, guys! Nice to see you again, Akira-kun!” tossed over her shoulder, Itsuki realized night had fallen while they were piecing together all the backed-up information. The fatigue hit him like a freight train, and he yawned himself.

“Sounds like that’s our cue to turn in for the night,” Yashiro commented. “Kurusu, do you know of a good place for us to spend the night in this area? Dr. Takemi wanted Itsuki to remain in Yongen for the night as a precaution; she thinks the episode was an otherworldly phenomenon and shouldn’t affect him again, at least for a while, but she wants to err on the side of caution to be safe.”

Akira’s eyes lit up in understanding as he nodded, rising from his seat and making a beeline for the stairs in the back of the café. “Of course. Up here.”

Itsuki finally stood and followed Yashiro and Akira up the stairs to reveal a spacious loft. There were a few crate stacks lined up along the walls, labeled with various supplies for the upkeep of the place, but the back half of the room, while largely free of dust, looked like it hadn’t been disturbed in a while. An old CRT TV sat atop a DVD player and channel tuner on a small table, a Famicom with two controllers placed in front of it. An old futon sat next to the table, along the left wall. Nestled into the left corner was a workshop desk that seemed to be in half-populated state, as if supplies were being moved into it over time; a half-finished lockpick shoved into one of its cubbies told Itsuki that the desk was likely Akira's thieving supply station, being freshly brought back into commission after 6 years of dormancy. A set of shelves lined the right wall, impressions in the dust on each shelf alluding to items that used to sit there. In the back, a small mattress sat on a stack of milk crates on the back wall, a light summer blanket and a couple of pillows atop the sheets. Frosted windows backlit the room with a cool moonlight glow.

“This is where I lived during my year of probation,” Akira explained. “It hasn’t been lived in since I got my own apartment here in Yongen two years ago, but I still try to take care of the place. It isn’t the coziest living space in the world, but… it’s home.”

“Thank you, Akira,” Itsuki said, smiling warmly. “We’ll take good care of it.”

“Good.” Akira turned around, starting down the stairs. “I’m locking up. You have my Topic if you need me.”

"Sounds good - goodnight!" Itsuki called back. Akira's hum of acknowledgement echoed down the stairs, and soon enough he was gone.

Yashiro had turned to the cot; it was pretty small, and the futon wasn’t much bigger. “Looks like we’ll be very cozy tonight,” he chuckled.

They looked around the room, examining their impromptu quarters, when that something that had been nagging at Itsuki’s brain all day finally made itself known.

“Hey,” Itsuki started. “That suit Navarre was wearing. It was yours, right?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Wasn’t that suit one of the ones you left behind?”

Yashiro visibly tensed, and Itsuki’s concern only grew. Surely he hadn’t… just for a suit. Right?

“…Yes, it was.”

Itsuki quickly brought a pair of grounding hands up to Yashiro’s shoulders, looking into the actor’s heterochromatic eyes. “You didn’t… are you okay? How did you handle being back there?”

Yashiro’s ironic chuckle told more than he needed to say. “It was reasonably rough in the beginning. I’m lucky he was out in Inaba at the time. It was actually two Phantom Thieves who pulled me out of an episode, and with the help of them and Navarre we figured out how to get me to my former room without further incident.” Yashiro shook his head, as if trying to snap out of a trance. “He’d destroyed what was left of my room when he discovered I was gone. We didn’t stay very long, but while Navarre was picking a suit from the few I’d left there, I was in the bathroom trying to calm down. I looked into the mirror, and… something just snapped in me.” Another chuckle. “I realized I wasn’t the same scared child I once was. You certainly played a big part in making sure I wouldn't return to that part of myself… I love you so much.”

Itsuki planted a chaste kiss on Yashiro’s cheek.  “I love you too. Did you get out okay?”

This laugh was more genuine, and perhaps a bit chilling. “Yes – and not without leaving him a little present.” Crossing to the TV, Yashiro picked up the remote and turned it on, switching to Itsuki’s tolerable news channel.

“In other news, the search continues through the night to find and prosecute the thief and arsonist who attacked the home of Chikaomi Tsurugi just yesterday. Police reports indicate that the Tsurugi line’s prized family katana was stolen, its glass case smashed in, and the entire parlor was set aflame in the wake of the theft. Requests for comments toward Chikaomi Tsurugi and his estranged son Yashiro have so far yielded no response—”

Itsuki’s smile was incredulous. “Yashiro Tsurugi, you sly swordsman.”

Yashiro’s own proud smile practically radiated his peace as he pulled Itsuki close, wrapping him in an embrace and burying the lower half of his face in the director’s hair. “I wouldn’t call it sly. I just needed to pick up a few of my belongings and Navarre needed a starter outfit that wasn’t from your clothes. The arson was a bonus.” His rich baritone voice sent calming vibrations through Itsuki’s skull.

Itsuki chuckled, turning off the TV and dragging Yashiro toward the cot so they could sleep. “I’m just glad you’re my arsonist.”

Chapter Text

The sharp sound of the café’s doorbell was what pulled Itsuki's consciousness back out of deep sleep. He forced his eyes open and rubbed at them blearily, dimly registering the bright sunlight streaming through the frosted glass windows above them. Still in a little disbelief over the lack of night terrors when they'd been such a constant in the last 5 years, he let out a contented exhale and relaxed back into the tangle of limbs he'd found himself trapped in. Yashiro, behind him, was still breathing in an even sleep pattern.

Itsuki could have stayed on that cot all day, but the bustle he heard downstairs signaled to him that the cafe was preparing to open, and he wasn't sure if they would overstay their welcome by sticking around in the loft after customers started coming in. Peeling his eyes open once again, he set to work trying to gently extract himself from the arms and legs that had wrapped around him in the night so he could get up and start the day.

However, the more he tried to slide out of his fiancé’s grasp, the more those arms tightened around him, immobilizing him quickly.

Itsuki chuckled near-silently. “Wow,” he whispered, looking back at Yashiro's sleepy face, the actor's eyes starting to crack open. “How ungentlemanly of you to stoop this low,” he teased.

“Only the best for you, my dear,” came a quiet retort. “It is far too early to get up.”

Itsuki rolled his eyes and, with a little effort, reached his phone that he'd placed on the shelf last night. “It's 7:30, drama queen. It sounds like someone's downstairs and I don't want to become an intruder instead of a guest. We have to get up.”

A low grumble of protest was made in return, but Itsuki was reluctantly released, and after making sure they had everything they came with, they made their way down the stairs.

Itsuki had expected to see Akira opening the cafe up, but instead an older shopkeep was making the rounds of the place, ensuring everything was in order before he would flip the sign outside to Open. Despite his visual age, he went through the motions about as fast as Akira, and even more practiced. A crisp pink button-up shirt, white suit pants and a matching set of a white suit jacket and fedora on the coat hook suggested that the man may have been a bit of a playboy in his earlier years.

As Itsuki and Yashiro tentatively made their way down the steps, the man paused in his upkeep and a weathered yet calm face peered up at them through a set of wireframe glasses, sporting slicked-back black hair with more than a few gray streaks and a thin, pointed beard.

“Good morning, sir,” Itsuki started, hardly missing a beat. “I'm sorry if we're intruding; you see—”

The man chuckled and waved a dismissive hand toward the pair, returning to the brewing coffee he'd deviated his attention from. “There's no need to explain. Akira let me know I'd find you two here.” Quickly ensuring the coffee was brewing alright and he could afford to leave it alone for a bit, he met Itsuki and Yashiro halfway as they ventured out into the empty cafe. “So, which one of you is this mysterious cousin I've heard about?”

Itsuki stepped forward and extended a handshake in greeting. “I am – I'm Itsuki Aoi.”

The man's eyebrows shot up as he accepted the handshake. “Sojiro Sakura. You don't mean Itsuki Aoi of Fortuna Entertainment fame, do you?”

Itsuki chuckled, embarrassed as he retracted his hand. “Yeah, that's me.”

Sojiro smiled in appraisal. “Should have known – the kid’s a natural at acting, and he’s talented enough that he’d have to have some sort of performing arts guru in his blood,” he joked. “Akira speaks highly of you whenever the topic of his family comes up. I don’t know what situation led you here, but any of the few good members of Akira’s family are welcome here at any time.”

“Thank you, that means a lot to me.” Itsuki’s smile was warm. “Both for the praise and for everything you've done for Akira – he told me about his probational year and the things he went through afterward, and…” He trailed off. “We grew up together, and even if we haven’t really interacted that much since we were kids, Akira means so much to me. Thanks for taking him in, both when he was convicted and when you officially adopted him.”

“Of course,” Sojiro replied. “He’s a good kid, but he was dealt a bad hand. I wasn’t about to let him be swept away into juvie. And then when it was all over and he went back… he never spoke about his home situation. If I’d known, I never would have let him go back, official protocol be damned. When that detective called me and told me Akira was hospitalized and on death’s door, I thought the whole world had stopped right there.” A sad chuckle. “There’s no need for thanks; I just did what any decent parent would have done.”

“It’s a very admirable thing, nonetheless,” Yashiro chimed in, extending his own hand. “Yashiro Tsurugi.”

Sojiro nodded, returning the gesture. “Thanks. I’ve seen you a few times on TV; my daughter is a very enthusiastic fan of that 'masqueraider' show you're a part of, and I may not be a pop music sort of man these days, but I appreciate the effort you put into what you do. Er – sorry about your old man’s estate, by the way.”

Yashiro waved it off. “Oh, don’t be. We aren’t exactly what you would call close. ”

An analytic gleam in the man’s eyes finally pushed its way to the surface and evaporated as Sojiro gave an understanding nod. “Somehow I’m not very surprised. I seem to collect a lot of teens and young adults from broken families. None of Akira’s friends had a sunshine-and-roses childhood either.”

"So we've heard," Yashiro corroborated.

Sojiro grimaced a bit. "It almost seems like finding a full, functional family these days is a crapshoot. Strange as it sounds, though, I don't regret the shitty circumstances that brought my family together - if every family were perfect, the people in my life right now would be a lot different, and perhaps a lot less enjoyable in comparison. There'd be a decent chance I wouldn't be running this old place right now," he mused. "Point being - no family is perfect, some even less than others, and that won't change for better or worse. Over the years I seem to have been a good vent for all the deep family junk that's hard to put into words, so I extend this offer to all of Akira's friends; if you ever need a distanced, uninvolved point of view about a family conflict or even a safe haven for a period of time, stop by. I won't interrupt until I've heard the whole story and I won't dog you about any decision you should or shouldn't be making unless you want an honest opinion."

"You're very kind, Sakura-san," Yashiro said. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

"Anytime." He circled back around the desk to the brewing coffee and adjusted a few knobs on the unorthodox brewing machine. "Coffee's almost done. Care for some?"

Itsuki shook his head. "Sorry - as much as we'd like to stay, I need to check in with Takemi-san and I have a few previous commitments today that I won't get done if I don't start soon."

That easygoing smile crossed Sojiro's features again. "No worries. Just flip the sign outside to Open for me, would you?"

"Of course. We'll see you around, Sakura-san," Itsuki nodded affirmingly, and soon they were both out the door.

Out of the café, Itsuki started for the clinic as he checked his schedule on his phone. "Remember, you have your big Masqueraider taping today, Yashiro; you should probably get out of here really soon if you're going to make it to costume, hair and makeup on time."

A frown etched itself into Yashiro's face. "I don't like the idea of leaving you alone to find out what happened the other night. What if it was something that will only get worse? You could have hurt yourself... I'm worried about whether we should expect it to happen again, and for my own sanity I'd much rather be with you when you find out."

Itsuki sighed and pulled Yashiro down an empty alleyway, far enough back that it was highly unlikely anyone could see or hear them. "I'm not delicate, you dork. Takemi-san has some theories as to what that episode could have been, and if she's right then it shouldn't be happening again for a very long time, at least. I'll be okay."

Yashiro's worried stare didn't dissolve. "You know that won't stop me from thinking about the worst-case scenarios."

"Touma will have your head if you end up delaying or postponing this taping, you know."

Yashiro scoffed a little, amused. "He might be a little angry at first, but in the end, Touma will do anything to have the taping delayed if it means he gets to stay in that costume just a little bit longer - especially today, of all days. He might even be okay with the taping being postponed today."

Itsuki gave his fiancé a playful nudge on his shoulder. "I know, but that doesn't give you an excuse to procrastinate. Go get ready to film with your fake TV boyfriend one more time."

The swordsman let out a small snort. "Ouga and Schraube aren't officially confirmed to be in a relationship."

"You know the producers are trying to angle it that way," Itsuki replied with an unbothered smile. "It works really well with how you two play off each other on set, after all. Still - I'll be okay. Just go."

After a few moments, he sighed, relenting. "Fine. Call me if anything comes up. I'll drop everything and come for you if you need me."

Itsuki raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "Even in full costume with half of your face covered in potentially unfinished latex?"

A smirk. "It'll scare off the people in my way, finished or not." He pulled Itsuki into a quick hug and started out of the alleyway. After waiting a short moment, Itsuki too left the alley and continued on to the clinic.

Takemi was visibly sleepy when Itsuki walked in. The lobby was empty and only half of the ceiling lights were on - she must have only opened recently, or perhaps not at all yet.

When Takemi blearily looked up, she looked loathe to take a patient so early, but when she registered Itsuki's presence she perked up just a little bit. "Early riser, eh, Aoi?"

"You could say that. I have a lot of responsibilities to take care of, so I just adapted to waking up earlier," he automatically responded. It wasn't a lie - he really did start waking early to take care of the day's tasks even before he got caught up in the Mirage incidents - but he wasn't in the mood to explain the night terrors that had put him in the habit of being awake early, nor did he want to possibly extend his stay discussing them.

"Sounds about right," she quipped, slowly standing and making for the door to the examination room. "Come with me."

Itsuki followed Takemi into an exam room in the back, smaller than the room with the bed he'd been in upstairs, and sat on the cot against the right wall. "This won't take too long, will it? I have a busy schedule today." He took another cursory glance at his phone, seeing the large number of Topics sitting unread in his notifications. He knew he'd been acting a little too strange these past couple of days, and he was fairly certain the rest of his friends would start asking what was wrong if he didn't try to snap back into some semblance of a schedule.

"Not incredibly," came the doctor's reply as she logged into her computer and a few set-up computer monitors sprang to life. She quickly disconnected it from the internet before continuing. "This meeting is covering speculations more than anything, since there's still so much I don't know about otherworldly ailments. I don't suspect anything else will come to light, so I'd expect to run for about an hour at most."

"Good. What did you want to show me, then?"

An image popped up on the screen that Itsuki could easily identify as some sort of brain scan. There were a few portions of the brain dimly colored green that were probably indicative of other medical-related things, but what seemed to be the front of the brain had a bright green coloring in large patches over it that seemed to be the focal point.

"This," Takemi began as she swiveled her chair toward Itsuki, "is a brain scan of one of the Phantom Thieves. I've gotten scans for all of them as part of my research. As you can see, I've highlighted a large portion of the frontal lobe here."

"I'm no medical expert, but I assume that's the portion of the brain that changes the most when the Metaverse gets involved?"

An affirming nod. "The frontal lobe controls personality and a lot of cognitive decision making and perception. It's the largest section that shows evidence of a significant change in the neural pathways. I don't know exactly what goes on in this change yet; the only reason I've been able to identify it as a likely result of Metaverse activity has been due to the comparison of scans from two different Thieves from before they gained their powers to after. The two in question had coincidentally had prior medical run-ins that required that they have scans, and I was able to access those records once I became their primary caregiver and compare their old scans to new ones I'd taken, but even then... it's only two samples. I can never confidently state my answer with such a small test pool, but it's all I have. Still, assuming they are a result of the Metaverse, its effects are obvious - the user gains a physical manifestation of their culminated personality traits and moralities that they may use as a form of magic to defend themselves. They no longer hold glaring insecurities about themselves and who they truly are, and confidence is noticeably increased in all subjects; not all to the same level, but higher than it was reported to have been previously."

She fiddled with a few directories on her computer until a different brain scan replaced the original one on the large screen. This one had different parts of what Takemi had called the frontal lobe highlighted; some patches overlapped with the Phantom Thief scan, but there were some that were no longer highlighted. What caught Itsuki's eye the most, though, was a spot near the bottom of the brain highlighted in blue.

"This is your scan," Takemi reported. "We haven't known one another long enough to note outward behavioral differences, but if you or one of your colleagues can meet with me someday later and discuss what traits you remember changing after obtaining your powers, that'd be wonderful. I do see that some of the same areas of the brain structure has formed in very similar ways; you all are able to wield your own form of magic like the Thieves, yes?"

Itsuki nodded. "Yes, but it seems like we obtained them a little differently." To puncuate his confirmation, he let a little bit of his electricity flow to the surface and a few sparks jolted along his hands and forearms for a few seconds.

Takemi blinked a couple of times, a little caught off-guard. "Things like that still surprise me every time I see them..." she mused, allowing herself to return to her assessment. "A lot of things about this scan interest me, and I'd love to hear your side of the story regarding it all, but since you have a lot to do, it seems it should be saved for another time." A few more clicks, and the image zoomed in on the part highlighted blue. "Let's focus on what may have caused your body to overload."

"Right. Let's get the elephant out of the room first... is it life-threatening?"

Immediately, Takemi shook her head. "Nope. As I suspected, it wasn't anything life-threatening in itself. The biggest danger is the outward side effects. You know, falling and hitting your head if the vision starts to overload your motor functions, things along those lines."

"Great," Itsuki sighed in a relief he didn't know he was hoping for. "Er, well - not great, but you know what I mean."

A light chuckle. "I do." Takemi made a couple of quick mouse circles over the blue-highlighted area. "So, this is the hippocampus - it has greater control over memory in the brain. I've highlighted it in blue because it seems to be the part of the brain that has the most difference in alteration to the Phantom Thieves. The limited testing pool I have has shown light alterations here between acquisition of their power, and while I don't have a frame of reference for your neural structure from before, yours exhibits these pathways in a much stronger manner, and then some. There's no way for me to tell when this change happened, or how much of it is the possible result of this episode versus just how your powers altered your brain, but after enough research, I'm thinking a lot of it might be the former.

"Now, there are traditional diagnoses that could be tied to what's going on, but they don't explain all of the aspects of what happened. Not only did the experience give you an unexplainable vision, but the vision you saw seems to be related to your current objective. I'd call that more than enough evidence to consider this as related to your otherworldly attributes."

"And now we move into speculation territory?" Itsuki guessed.

"Yes. When I spoke to a number of the Phantom Thieves, they all told me about how the manifestation of their power - they called them Personas - were all designed after various infamous tricksters throughout fiction or history. Using Akira as an example, he described his base Persona as a manifestation of Arsene Lupin, the fictional gentleman thief created in 1905. A few months after my study of cognitive psience started and I really started digging into what changed with the acquisition of these Personas, a specific effect that stuck out to me was related to memory. Akira mentioned to me that he'd started reading the Arsene Lupin books out of curiosity and he reported that when he read some of the scenes in the books, he almost had this nagging feeling that he might have experienced those scenes as his own memory."

Itsuki's brow furrowed. "Strange."

"Yet not exactly unheard of outside the Metaverse," Takemi countered. "There are a few existing medical conditions that could cause the victim to hold memories that aren't their own. In the case of a Persona, though, none of the brain patterns match the patterns of any of these conditions, and it seems like these memories aren't necessarily "real," for lack of a better word. There are ghosts of something changed in the hippocampus, but it isn't something very profound or solid, so the only effect is an impression of deja vu, nothing of substance."

"Something's telling me that isn't what's happened in my case."

Takemi shook her head. "I can't say if there were any changes to the hippocampus related to your, ah..."

"Mirages," Itsuki supplied.

A curt nod. "If I want to know more about the presence of a Mirage on the brain in general, I'll have to get a scan of some of your allies. There's also no way to tell necessarily how much of this is how your brain already functioned, as I have no prior experience with you or your medical makeup... have you ever had any brain scans prior to gaining your powers that I might be able to draw off of?"

"Yes, I've had one," he said. "I was hospitalized when I was fifteen from a scare in the water - I was caught in a sort of riptide and almost brought down into a sinkhole, and they were worried the currents might have whipped my head around fast enough to cause a concussion. The scan should still be among my records."

"That'll do," Takemi confirmed. "I'll have to get back to you with a more solid conclusion the next time you visit, but based solely on how your hippocampus looks in comparison to that of a Persona user's, there are many similarities - and you seem to have the same deja-vu effect they have, but taken to the extreme. I strongly believe this could have been a result of the vision you had. I have a guess as to what this could mean, but I need to know - are your Mirages like a Persona in the sense of their original forms? Something like a fictional character, a long-dead figure from history... you get the picture, someone who doesn't exist at this current moment in time."

"Actually, no. Each Mirage is a real person from another universe. As far as I know, these universes operate at the same time ours does. Our worlds were connected due to the pocket dimensions called Idolaspheres that formed when the force we had to fight shoved its way into our universe."

Takemi gave a hum of acknowledgement. "Perfect - I had a feeling. Based on the research I've made thus far, I'm thinking those memories have been externally planted there by someone in one of these other universes. It's a concept that's been explored by scientists before but sort of dismissed as fantasy. With non-human phenomena like this, though, nothing is impossible, and I'm willing to pull any theory out of the closet if need be. The base idea of the concept is that two individuals who share a strong neural connection - a twin, other blood relative, very close friend or a significant other, for example, rarely two complete strangers - go through some event that proverbially merges their neural paths to some degree. This theory was discarded largely because the events that were speculated to cause this were nothing short of fictional."

"Then you met Akira," Itsuki guessed.

A light chuckle. "Yes. I think the bond between a Persona and its user could meet this requirement, if the Persona wasn't already a metaphysical manifestation of its user. Again using Akira for an example, if Arsene wasn't fictional and instead another person who existed today, still bonded to Akira through whatever experience he went through, then I wouldn't be surprised if those ghosts of memories Akira experiences would be more solid and tangible, and he may very well have been able to keep contact with his Persona after losing him for those few years. I digress a little, but my point is that if a Mirage is indeed that secondary person existing at the same time, even if they're from another timeline, then this could very well have happened - though, I'll need to run more tests and speak to some of your friends. Once the neural paths are merged, the predicted outcomes were things like shared memories, telepathic communication and even sending visions could be possible between the two." She turned back to Itsuki with an inquisitive gaze. "Aside from the visions, do any of these symptoms sound familiar to you, especially after parting with your Mirage? Any dreams of events you never lived but still call your own?"

Itsuki held back his shudder - he'd only had one dream since Chrom disappeared, and that experience was very much his. "No - nothing. I can ask the others if that sounds familiar, though, if you'd like."

Takemi shrugged. "Sure. Hell, send them over to me and cut out the middleman. Any research is good research." She turned back to the monitor. "Still, though... in spite of all this, I don't think your Mirage partner is the one who sent you the vision that knocked you out."

Itsuki nodded. "I'm almost certain it's not, but out of curiosity, how are you able to tell?"

On Takemi's smaller screen, Itsuki could see her pulling up documents and combing through the text, likely following up on her research to make sure her information was correct. "Well, another speculatory finding in the research done was that another person with a similar enough neural pattern to one of the linked individuals could force their own information into the channel and deliver it to their neural doppelganger's partner, with enough concentration and effort. Its arrival was thought to be rather forceful, though, and in extreme cases it could overload the body of the recipient."

"Considering my vision's violent arrival, that sounds about right," Itsuki said.

"The good news, though," Takemi continued, "is that this shouldn't happen again so soon, if my assessment is right and the research continues to line up. If the memory was forced in by a third party, then something like that would likely drain the brainpower of the sender for a little while. It should take them a bit to gather their strength to send another, if they even wish to."

"And there's no way to tell this is truly what happened yet, yes?"

The doctor shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. 5 years and I can still barely wrap my head around the existence of magic and other universes; if there's a way to tell, I haven't found it yet. It could be completely unrelated to this phenomenon, for all we know."

Itsuki sighed. "Figures. I guess like everything else lately, this will have to make sense later."

Takemi shrugged. "Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"No, you've already done a lot for me - I'm very grateful. I'd rather have a vague idea of what happened than no knowledge at all." As Itsuki stood, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He retrieved it, but didn't check it yet. "I should probably be going, though. If this or any other health issues crop up with me or the other members of Fortuna, you'll be the first to know."

Takemi smiled a little as she closed the scan and stood as well. "All the members of Fortuna Entertainment are involved, then?"

"With our original incident, yes. Everyone was involved in some way and most of the employees had formed a contract with a Mirage. Now, though, only a few of us are in the loop to prolong dragging the others into the fray as long as we can. It's only a matter of time before they find out by themselves, though."

"Understandable," Takemi replied. "It's no difference to me - just send them my way once they discover their powers have returned. I also sell a number of curatives and even some experimental things to clear up otherworldly ailments, if the ones you can be afflicted with are similar enough to the Metaverse's. You'll get a discount as long as you come visit every once in a blue moon; if the way your powers present themselves is anything like the Phantom Thieves, I'm sure you've all had some interesting conversations with other doctors."

"Oh, for sure," Itsuki chuckled. "I hope I didn't give you any trouble while I was unconscious. My electricity likes to mess with technology sometimes."

"You were fine. I had to run a couple of tests twice because you shorted my equipment and skewed the result, but it's nothing I'm not used to - one of the electricity users of the Thieves is a little reckless and has been somewhat of a frequent fixture here, from pulled muscles to running headlong into a brick wall on a dare." A beat of silence, then she added, "It's better not to ask."

Itsuki laughed again and moved to say something else, but then he paused as the topic of the conversation caused him to recall the side effects the others had with their powers. The more he thought about it in relation to the day's events, the further he went into just a little bit of an alert.

The primary fire users had a tendency to run dangerously hot by the standard of a normal human. Both Touma and Yashiro would have to cool themselves down physically to a normal human temperature before arriving at any of their events because if the on-site medic happened to check them over for whatever reason, their temperatures would read dangerously high and they would be sent home until their 'fever' cleared up. Itsuki was sure Yashiro would try his best to be careful and not fumble any stunts in order to dodge the medic, but to his knowledge, Touma still didn't know his powers were back. He was tight with his stunt work too, but he was naturally more prone to injury for a number of reasons, and since he'd been caught 'sick' with a fever a few times before, the medic liked to make sure out of the blue that he was alright to film every once in a while.

Itsuki figured he should probably make sure Touma's able to get onto the set without issue. It wouldn't be the greatest if being denied entry to the set due to a fake fever was how he found out about his powers returning.

"As much as I wish I could stay and chat, I should probably get going," Itsuki finally chose to say. "I have a few friends to meet."

"Of course," came Takemi's easygoing reply as they both walked out to the lobby and she reassumed her position behind the desk. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"For sure," Itsuki said as he made for the door. "Have a great day, Takemi-san."

As he reemerged into the streets of Yongen-Jaya, Itsuki finally checked his phone to see the source of the vibration earlier was another text from Tsubasa to pile onto the bunch of unread Topics he had sitting in his notifications. There was already one from last night, so he opened up his thread with her to see what was going on.

-DIRECT IM: TSUBASA ORIBE-

<1:35 AM> Tsubasa Oribe: hey itsuki! ik you're probably asleep rn but i was thinking we could head out for crepes in the morning, we've kinda been talking about scary n dangerous things for a while and i know i need to destress.

<8:24 AM> Tsubasa Oribe: you're usually awake by now, you wanna meet for crepes or no? i'm gonna go either way lol, just wanna know whether to save you a seat!

<8:28 AM> Itsuki Aoi: I'm happy to meet you for crepes - I'll just be around 30 or 40-ish minutes before I show up. I was hoping to meet Touma before he went in to start his Masqueraider taping, make sure he doesn't get turned away due to a 'fever' and discover his powers are back.

Tsubasa Oribe: ooh, yeah that's probably a good idea.... tell him good luck for me!

Itsuki Aoi: Wouldn't it be 'break a leg?'

Tsubasa Oribe: i used to tell touma that, but uhhh it seemed kinda mean after i ended up tripping over him and actually breaking his leg that one time....

Itsuki Aoi: Aw, don't beat yourself up over that. I'm sure he doesn't hold it against you. Remember, he said his leg was always a little bit messed up at the joint, and we know it didn't get any worse afterward.

Tsubasa Oribe: i know, i know. still doesn't mean i'm not allowed to feel bad ^^;

Tsubasa Oribe: anyway tell him good luck from me! (and tell yashiro good luck too! navarre also says good luck even though you can't tell touma that lol)

Itsuki Aoi: Of course I will - and I'll definitely see you at the crepe shop later.

Tsubasa Oribe: awesome! excited for crepes - i tried to explain them to navarre and now he's curious. can't wait to see his reaction!

Itsuki Aoi: Now that, I'm excited to see. Alright, I'm off; any idea where Touma might be?

Tsubasa Oribe: he mentioned something about heading for a hospital visit for the kids in full costume one more time :)

Itsuki Aoi: Gotcha.

Chapter Text

Itsuki lowered his phone, chuckling at the thought of Navarre trying to wrap his head around the concept of crepes, and started navigating to the train. When he approached the station, though, a familiar face caused him to slow his approach.

Akira too stopped to meet Itsuki halfway. As Itsuki approached, the excitement of an energetic-looking girl with shoulder-length dyed orange hair who had been following Akira seemed to lower ever-so-slightly. She fell into line just slightly behind him like he was a shield. Even though her nerves shone through a little bit, her polite smile was genuine. She held a collector's DVD box set of the original two seasons of Masqueraider Ouga - Itsuki recalled approving that particular box set for its release to the public to be today - and a couple of her green-painted nails drummed on the edge of the box.

"Hey," Akira greeted. "Everything turn out alright last night?"

"Yeah," Itsuki. "It wasn't the comfiest sleeping quarters, but it was really calm. We met Sakura-san when he came to open up shop this morning; he's a really kind man."

Akira nodded, smiling. "It's practically impossible not to love Coffee Dad."

Itsuki snorted a little. "Coffee Dad?"

The smile grew. "I started calling him that when my presence started to grow on him. It aggravated him at first, but eventually the nickname grew on him too." He stretched a little and crossed his arms. "How did the visit with Takemi go? Did you figure out what happened?"

Itsuki shrugged. "Sort of. She has a theory based on some old research, but it's a very long story. Point is, it shouldn't be happening like that again for a long while."

"That's good, at least. Where did Yashiro go?" At Akira's mention of Yashiro, the girl behind him perked up a little, her attention piqued.

"He had to leave pretty early for costume, hair and makeup," Itsuki relayed. "Masqueraider taping today."

The girl perked up even more, a hand now placed on Akira's shoulder, and he chuckled a little as he glanced back at her. "You said the magic word."

Itsuki hummed in acknowledgement, looking to address the girl. "Are you a fan of the Masqueraider series?"

She finally seemed to notice she was being spoken about as she blinked a couple of times, laughed nervously and adjusted her glasses. "Y-You could say that," she stammered a little.

"This is my sister, Futaba Sakura," Akira introduced. "She's a huge fan of a few shows in that genre; the Masqueraider series and the Phoenix Ranger series are some of her favorites. We were just in Akihabara, lining up to get this box set - large crowds are a little difficult without her 'key item,'" he explained, pointing at himself. "She's also very skilled with pretty much anything that uses electricity, in this area and elsewhere - if you know what I mean."

It took Itsuki a second, but when Futaba pulled a tuft of hair away from her face as a nervous tic, a couple tiny bolts of electricity caught the static in her hair in a way that couldn't be natural, and it all made sense.

He gave an understanding nod as he let a couple of sparks dance over his own fingertips for a less than a second, not many in case someone else on the platform was watching. "I do. I'm Itsuki Aoi, Akira's cousin."

Futaba stepped out from behind Akira, still fairly timid but confidence growing as she gave Itsuki a nod. "I've heard a little bit about you from Akira - it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So, do you just like Masqueraider or do you follow its actors too?"

"Oh, I follow all of it," Futaba replied. She was growing bolder as the conversation steered more toward her wheelhouse. "The actors, stunts, set pieces and narrative development, among a lot of other stuff. Masqueraider Ouga has been my favorite rendition so far, but Raiga comes in at a close second and I'm super excited to see what's coming next! I know Ouga's already been stretched further than most generations of Masqueraider and I can tell it's nearing the end of its run, so at this point it's only a matter of time before Masqueraider makes the switch to the next generation. I follow Fortuna in general, as well - and I'm very honored to meet its president."

"Please, Itsuki is fine," he ensured. "I've never been one for fancy titles, and I think with such similar family members and experiences we'll be fine on a first-name basis." Itsuki crossed his arms. "If you're such a big fan of the series, I'm sure Touma Akagi and Yashiro Tsurugi would love to meet you. They both love interacting with fans when they're able."

Her eyes widened, a little starstruck. "C-Could I really?"

"I'll have to communicate with them and work around their schedules, but they'd almost certainly make time if they needed to."

Futaba's next chuckle was a little incredulous. "Wow... I don't remember when I leveled up high enough to meet some of my heroes, but far be it from me to complain - thank you, Itsuki!"

He nodded. "Of course. I'll let you know when they have an open day. I should really be going, though - I wanted to catch Touma before he went off to the taping."

"For sure," Akira replied, passing the box set back off to a much happier Futaba. "We'll see you later, Itsuki."

Itsuki waved goodbye as he passed the duo and made his way onto the train, checking his phone once again. There had been a text Touma had sent the night before he thought he should probably check.

-DIRECT IM: TOUMA AKAGI-

<11:35 PM> Touma Akagi: ayo itsuki, i'm thinking i'm gonna head to the hospital as ouga tomorrow morning before the taping. ik, the hospital hasn't been told in advance and it sounds like i'm trying to cling to the costume, but tomorrow's gonna be hella bittersweet. i wanted to start it off more sweet n give the kids one last ouga visit before this taping airs, yknow?

<8:43 AM> Itsuki Aoi: Hey, are you still at the hospital?

<8:45 AM> Touma Akagi: yep, but i'm gonna finish up soon so i can make it to the taping in time. this is one i don't want to be late for. on your way?

Itsuki Aoi: Yeah, thought I'd meet you there and escort you to the taping. Yashiro's already there for makeup prep since he's got a lot going on in that department today, but I'm not sure about the others. I won't be able to stick around for the whole thing - I promised Tsubasa I'd meet her for crepes - but I can try to come back before the end.

Touma Akagi: fair. i hope the rest of the new cast is there tho, some of em have fittings for new costumes n stuff. if the crew is busy with that i'll have time to practice my wrap speech

Itsuki Aoi: You prepared a speech? I don't think I've ever heard you give a speech, honestly.

Touma Akagi: 'speech' is a strong word lol. just talking points on my phone - i know i'm gonna forget a lot of what i want to say in the moment so i wrote some of it down. gonna head back in to interact with the last group of kids, i'll cya in a bit!

Quickly connecting his headphones, switching to a music app and pulling up a playlist of random assorted music, Itsuki stashed his phone back in his pocket and tightened his grip on the ceiling handle, preparing to zone out.

What caught his attention, however, was the sudden darkening of the sky outside and the pouring rain that started pounding on the windows in a flash. The view of the blurring city in the window washed away in the water within seconds, and Itsuki's brow furrowed. He didn't recall rain in the forecast for today, and this flash flood was far too fast to be entirely natural.

Some of the other passengers in his train car also looked up from their books or various screens in confusion as the rain forged on for another three or so minutes. The overhead lights came on in the car as the darkened sky decreased visibility inside.

Rolling thunder started to accompany it, but no lightning showed itself, and no one else looked up. By the time Itsuki had reached his station, the rain had slowed, but it hadn't stopped. The thunder had disappeared completely.

As things calmed down to a normal rainy day, Itsuki started to brush it off as a common coincidence - the weather forecast has been wrong every once in a blue moon - but he shelved the incident in the back of his mind just in case something like it happened again.

What he did worry about was the state of Touma's costume in the rain. Some parts of the costume were porous to most liquids and might break apart in the rain, and the swath of silk hanging from the belt would be a monster to dry if it got soaked with rainwater.

As Itsuki approached the children's hospital he usually set up character visits with, he spotted Touma's motorcycle in the parking lot, and he sighed. Touma was already cutting it a little too close on time to change into another outfit for the ride, and in the Ouga costume there was no way they'd be able to ride it to the Masqueraider set in this rain.

So, he brought out his phone again and called in some help.

-DIRECT IM: TSUBASA ORIBE-

Itsuki Aoi: So, it's started to rain over here by the hospital and Touma rode his bike here. He's in costume and won't really have time to change.

Tsubasa Oribe: say no more!

Tsubasa Oribe: (but ummm can i borrow your car? kiria took mine today bc her bike is in the shop ^^;)

Itsuki Aoi: Of course - the spare key to my place is in the same spot as always, and my car keys are in the bowl on the shelf right by the front door. Just make sure Navarre knows to stay in my apartment, maybe give him a book to read or teach him the basics of the TV remote before you go, if he doesn't want to strategize for our return to his world. I already keep a tarp in the trunk of my car for situations like this. Can you be here in 10 or 15 minutes?

Tsubasa Oribe: will do, boss!

With the ride taken care of, Itsuki walked through the front doors of the hospital.

The nurse attending the front desk smiled upon recognizing Itsuki, grabbing a visitor's pass for him immediately. "Good morning, Aoi-san."

"And to you, Suzuki-chan." Itsuki deftly pinned the pass to the right side of his jacket like second nature. "Any idea where he might be?"

"Akagi-san is visiting our patients in hospice care at the moment," Suzuki replied. "His visit today was unexpected, but very welcome."

"Well, that makes two of us who think that," he chuckled as he signed in on the pages of the visitor check-in book. "Thank you - have a nice day."

"You too, sir!" Suzuki called out behind him as Itsuki started weaving his way through the hallways down toward hospice care.

As Itsuki got deeper into the hospital, the temperature dropped slightly and the smell of antiseptic reached his nose, and he shuddered just a bit. He's had his fill of hospitals for a lifetime.

They'd always been a fixture in his life; when he was small he would travel between them across Japan with his family, trying to see if his Aunt Haneko had washed up into one of them. As he got older and started tempting the ocean more with Sayaka, they'd both occasionally land themselves in the emergency room with nasty gashes or to ensure bones weren't broken, and when he'd almost been crushed by that whirlpool he'd had his first overnight stay in one, to ensure no lasting damage had been done.

Tsubasa, being very clumsy, had landed herself in the ER more than once as well over the years of growing up together, and Touma had been in and out of hospitals all his life for birth defects - to Itsuki's knowledge, he still had regular medical appointments - and was hospitalized multiple times for various incidents and occurrences, whether they were his abandonment injuries or self-inflicted ones.

Itsuki's mother had died of a heart attack in the hospital local to his childhood home, right before Itsuki's eyes. Kiria was sent to the hospital after being incapacitated by Aversa. Mere months later, medical professionals couldn't save Ayaha after being crushed by Excellus' henchmen. Itsuki had been brought to Inaba's local hospital to identify Sayaka's corpse.

The night Itsuki had brought Yashiro to the hospital as he choked on profuse amounts of blood from his highly advanced hanahaki garden coming out so violently was still etched into his mind. And then there was the aftermath of Medeus, severely wiping out Tsubasa and costing Itsuki the full freedom of his right arm movement, and the episode from a few days ago that landed him in Takemi’s office.

Itsuki wasn't extremely keen on hospitals, to say the least. Still, that doesn't mean he could avoid doing his job; so, he took a deep breath and quietly opened the doors to the hospice ward.

Only a few children looked back at his entrance, but most were fixated on Touma. Some children sat on the ground, some in chairs, others in wheelchairs and still others had their beds wheeled out from their rooms by attending nurses. They all had one thing in common - they were all on a path that would be cut short by the scythe of death, and soon.

Touma sat in the bigger rocking chair at the front of the little common room, dressed in full Masqueraider Ouga regalia. His helmet sat on his left knee, and he kept a firm stabilizing hand on the top of it so none of the more spry kids could steal it from him.

"-and as long as I believe in my ability to protect the city I love, I'll always be able to transform into Masqueraider Ouga, even if all my other powers are taken from me somehow," Touma was saying in-character. "That's how I looked at a lot of things even before I gained my powers - if I ever came across bad times, I just remembered to believe I could make things better. Sometimes I needed a little hard work to make that happen and sometimes I just had to wait, but it all worked out in the end."

A small glimmer of comfort was sent out in waves through the children's eyes, and Itsuki smiled. Seeing how wonderfully Touma worked with children in any capacity was a sight to behold, and it warmed his heart.

Touma's eyes flicked toward Itsuki for a second and his smile grew just a little. He lifted a few fingers from his helmet in a discreet wave, not wishing to draw the children's attention away, and returned his gaze to them. "Alright, kids - Daichi-kun's training is going to start really soon, so I can only take a couple more questions. Who has some really good ones?"

A younger child near the front raised his hand and asked, "Where is Daichi-kun right now?"

Without missing a beat, Touma waved his hand and replied, "Oh, he wanted to get some extra practice in before we started our training session today..." He sighed. "He's a little mad at me right now, but I'm sure we'll work it out real soon."

"Yeah, he got mad at you on the TV this morning," the child said, pointing to the small TV at the front of the common room. "Why?"

Touma ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in the rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth absentmindedly. "How to explain... well, Daichi's a real good kid and amazing in combat - he's already held his own pretty well in a few battles, after all. He's just having a little trouble understanding the training he needs to have in his heart and with his emotions to unlock his powers. That's not his fault, really. It took me a long time to understand how to unlock my own powers," he chuckled lightly. "He's getting sick of failing test after test, and I understand his frustration. He'll get it in time, though; I believe in him."

Many of the children nodded, and as the question was considered answered, an older girl in a wheelchair near the right wall who didn't look like she was buying into the whole believe-in-yourself speech raised a pale hand. "You say believing in a good outcome will help fix any problem that comes your way, but most of the time there are a lot of problems that make it really hard to believe in the good." Her voice was quiet and raspy. "How do you expect that to work every time?"

Touma's smile dampened a bit, but it wasn't for a lack of an answer. "That's the thing - I don't," he answered. "I don't expect a simple belief and a little work to fix the problem every time, but making the most of your situation no matter how bad it is always makes the time you spend during it a little more bearable." He quietly drummed his fingers on his helmet in thought. "There are a lot of things I've done and friends I've made that have helped me out a lot in the rare times I've had trouble looking on the bright side on my own."

"Like your boyfriend Kuro Nakamura?" one of the young girls blurted out, eliciting a few teasing 'ooohs' and giggles from most of the children.

Touma himself laughed and acted like he was a little caught off-guard; he wasn’t aware his powers had returned, and therefore he didn’t try to blush on command, but his flustered act was very flawless otherwise. "Hey now, the relationship between me and Nakamura-san is strictly professional," he jokingly chided, wagging a finger at the children.

" Suuuure," another child teased as the giggles continued.

Touma rolled his eyes and glanced at the clock, standing up. "Well, guys, I'm afraid that's all the time I have for today." The note of finality he said it with went straight over most of the children's heads, but Itsuki knew this was his bittersweet goodbye to visiting as Masqueraider Ouga. He was sure Touma would come visit again as himself countless times, and many of the older, long-term-stay children in other areas of the hospital were familiar with Touma's visits as a simple volunteer before landing the role of Ouga, but it wouldn't quite be the same.

A lot of kids groaned, and one asked "When will you be back, Sato-san?"

"...Soon, everyone. I can't wait for it."

As nurses wheeled the weaker children back toward their rooms and the other kids started to mingle or retreat to their own rooms, the girl who had questioned Ouga's beliefs wheeled toward Touma, causing him to pause.

"Listen," she started, obviously speaking to Touma more than Ouga, "I know you need to leave, but you seem like the kind of guy who gives good advice. So, when you say you need to look on the bright side of most situations, there has to be some sort of achievable method you use to do that. I know you mentioned having friends that help you through when you can't believe in the good on your own, but I'm dying, my parents kind of dumped me here and I have no one to talk to. I could really use some belief right now... any other suggestions that don't really involve trusting people to actually care about you?"

Touma's expression softened, and Itsuki could tell he was seeing himself in this girl. She looked to be maybe 12 or 13, and around that time in Touma's life he was still practically fresh out of the clutches of his abusive parents. He still had a fear of speaking in front of others, and hell would freeze over before he began to trust another person; he'd fully expected his grandfather to abandon him, too, and he kept Itsuki and Tsubasa company but had held them at arm’s length emotionally. Saying he couldn't believe in things getting better was one hell of an understatement.

Touma shifted his glance to Itsuki with a slightly pleading gaze, and even though he would be slightly late for his call time if they stayed any longer, Itsuki knew he couldn't deny him this extra time even if his life depended on it.

He was already in costume, after all - he could afford to be a little late, since he would just be waiting for the others to get in costume and finish off makeup. So, Itsuki held up his hand to signal for 5 minutes, and Touma gratefully turned back to the girl.

"Let's go for a little walk," Touma told her. "Let me know if you need to stop and rest at any point."

She gave a small nod, and Touma quickly passed his helmet to Itsuki, took her IV stand and wheeled it alongside her as they started to stroll away toward the back hall.

"What's your name, kid?" Touma started.

"Ayaka."

"Well, Ayaka, do you want to know a secret?"

"You don't need to use your superhero voice... I'm not 5," she sighed.

"Noted," Touma acknowledged, dropping out of character. "Just a habit."

"Whatever. What's this secret of yours?"

"Well... when I was growing up, I was in and out of the hospital constantly for some chronic stuff, and some other semi-related injuries. There were a few times when the doctors thought I would die."

Ayaka's brooding expression broke just a bit, looking at Touma in surprise. "Really?"

"Really. I was born with the joint in my right knee being a little messed up, and I can't feel as much on my left side as I should be able to..."

Touma's quiet voice trailed off as they traveled around a corner, and Itsuki was left to his own devices watching the kids play in the common room.

An older nurse emerged from one of the rooms as they were leaving and watched them walk off, sighing. He turned his attention to Itsuki and asked, "You grew up with Akagi-san, right? I remember you and that other girl turning up every once in a while when he came in to ask how he was doing."

Itsuki nodded. "Yes, I did. Were you one of the ones who cared for him when he first escaped his parents' custody?"

"Yep. He's truly a good man, especially considering how rough the beginning of his life was... you know what his chronic problems were the result of, yes?"

"Yeah..."

The nurse shook his head incredulously. "How two people could be so cruel to a child even before he was born is beyond me," he quietly murmured. "Fetal Alcohol Syndrome to the extent he was afflicted is just horrifying."

"Agreed," Itsuki sighed. "It took Touma an incredibly long time to open up to me about what's happened to him, but once I knew, I was a little surprised it didn't take years longer. He's one of, if not the strongest person I know."

The nurse nodded. "I'm not surprised to see how far he's come. When he was admitted for his suicide attempt at about 13, he was very surprised at how relentlessly you two sent him so many get-well gifts and asked after his wellbeing, so concerned even without knowing what had happened. He hadn't begun to work up the courage to speak yet, but he eventually started writing to me about wanting to make sure you both knew he was okay, once it started getting through to him that you cared. If he's ever accredited you and your other friend to saving his life, I've no doubt that's true."

Silence followed for a few seconds as the information sank into Itsuki's mind until a call light above one of the rooms turned on, and the nurse stood at attention. "Maybe I’ll see you two around sometime soon." Finally, he shuffled off.

Itsuki didn't have to wait much longer until Touma returned around the same corner with Ayaka. Both of them had their phones out, a slight smile was on her face and she held a big, beautiful lily that had dark blue petals with reddish-orange edges that she was placing in her hair.

Touma brought her to what Itsuki presumed was the door to her room, where a nurse was ready and waiting to help her inside, and they waved before Touma joined Itsuki back at the entrance.

"Ready to go?" Itsuki asked, handing the Ouga helmet back to Touma.

"Yep," came the reply as they walked out of the doors together. Once they'd gotten to the first turn toward the exit, he added, "I think I might have just fake-adopted another sibling."

Itsuki laughed. "I'm not surprised. Ayaka reminds me of both you and Riku at that age."

"Yeah... I'm not gonna say what she's in for to respect her privacy, but at this rate, there's no chance she's making it out," he regretfully said. "Doctors have no idea when she'll bite the dust, but it'll be soon. She has no family or friends who care to visit her, so I gave her my personal Topic so she has someone to talk to."

"Poor girl," Itsuki sighed. "It's good you're keeping in touch, though. Where did she get that lily?"

"Oh, I snagged that off one of the arrangements in the hallway while she wasn't looking so I could give her something nice and make her a little happier," he chuckled. "I think she knows where I got it, but she likes it anyway."

Itsuki chuckled too as they made their way back into the lobby and turned in their visitor passes to the now-empty front desk.

Tsubasa, who had been waiting in one of the lobby chairs, stood up with the tarp from the back of Itsuki's car and approached the both of them. "Morning, guys!"

"Hey," Touma replied, a little surprised to see her. "Came to see me off, too?"

"Well... that, and it's pouring rain outside," she chuckled.

Touma finally looked out the windows of the lobby and how they were still getting washed out by rain, and he sighed, but his smile still remained. “Looks like I’m leaving my bike here, then. Getting to the car is gonna be an adventure. ”

"Let's get this show on the road so you aren't later than you already are," Itsuki said. "Are you ready for your last Ouga taping, Touma?"

That smile finally started to fade slightly as the more bitter side of that bittersweet feeling started to kick in. "Absolutely not," Touma chuckled mirthlessly. "I've been Ouga for five years now. It's going to be an adjustment for sure, and I don't think I'll ever be ready to let it go... but I'm ready to film. Let's go."

With that, Itsuki and Tsubasa unfolded the tarp and lifted it over Touma's head so the costume would be completely shielded from the rain as they made their way to Itsuki's car.

Chapter Text

As the car rolled into the film lot, Itsuki could see an entire wheel of emotions crossing through Touma's gaze within the rear-view mirror. It was to be expected; for almost as long as Itsuki had known him, Touma's one and only dream was to become one of the heroes that were a large part of saving his life as a kid, and he'd long exceeded that dream and so much more. Itsuki couldn't possibly fathom what was going through Touma's head, now that Ouga was coming to a close.

The energetic redhead was silent as they drew closer to the studio he would be filming in, unusually so compared to how sociable he is nowadays. Anyone who had known him before his high school years would know that such a spell was more of a callback to his roots, though. Itsuki could still remember how it took over two years after they met before Touma even started trying to speak to him and Tsubasa, and it remained fairly rare for most of the next year or so; it wouldn't be until they were deep in the previous Mirage conflict that Touma finally opened up to him about the abuse he suffered in childhood and his requirement to make no sound, how it was really hard to get used to not being punished for speaking. These days, Touma speaks his mind so much that it almost seems like he's making up for lost time, and it warms Itsuki's heart.

As his mind returned to the present, though, it became apparent that it was also growing physically warmer in the car - not by much, but noticeably enough for Itsuki to share a worried look with Tsubasa. When they first had their magic, the air around Touma always got a little warmer when he was nervous, and now that unfortunate little quirk was reappearing at quite possibly the worst time.

"You're nervous," Tsubasa broke the silence in the car, hoping to play damage control.

Touma shook his head as if coming out of a daze, processed the question, and laughed awkwardly. "I guess. It's hard to know what to think."

"I get you," Itsuki replied. "Ouga has been such a big part of your life up to this point that it's hard to imagine life without it, right?"

Touma nodded. "I know I'll live without it, but I'm definitely going to miss it."

"That sounds about right," said Tsubasa. "I think you're going to be okay, though - your schedule is going to open up to a ton of other roles you could take, and even though I doubt any of them will compare to Ouga, they're going to be great experiences and opportunities for you!"

"She's right," Itsuki corroborated. "And it's not like this'll be the last time you'll be asked in for Masqueraider stuff, either. Former Masqueraiders always get called back into the studio at some point for anything from reprising their former roles in crossovers to voicing background characters in other iterations of the series. You might even get picked up for a part somewhere in the Phoenix Ranger universe; it's not unheard of, since the two are practically sister productions with how much of their crew and management they share."

Something indiscernible shifted deep in Touma's gaze, but his grateful smile that followed was very comforting to see. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, guys. I know I'll be fine, it's just a weird day."

The temperature in the car started to lower, much to the relief of Itsuki and Tsubasa, and as they pulled into a parking space in front of the studio, Itsuki smiled back at Touma. "For sure... it'll be one to remember, though."

Itsuki and Tsubasa stepped out into the rain and retrieved the tarp from the back of the car, unfolding it over the door Touma would be stepping out of. The shuffle from the car to the studio door was awkward, especially since the tarp was at an angle due to the height difference between its holders, but it did its job of keeping the Ouga costume dry.

As they approached the doors, the security guard out front spotted them, relayed something into his radio and used his keycard to swipe the door open as the trio clearly had their hands full.

When they got close enough, the guard laughed. "Nice to see you three. I'm guessing you won't miss this part of production, eh, Akagi-san?" he asked, pointing to the tarp.

Touma chuckled back. "It's tedious, but at least it's entertaining."

Once Touma stepped into the threshold, Itsuki and Tsubasa shook out the tarp and let the excess water that had collected run off, then followed inside.

The inside of the studio was in no shortage of energy; various techs were bustling through the open space, making sure every piece of equipment, set piece and special effect was in top shape. There were a few actors milling about that Itsuki recognized, some in full costume and others who hadn't had their turn in the makeup chair yet. Everyone sported a nervous excitement that was usually present when it was a day they were filming action scenes, but it was more prominent today, which made sense - Itsuki had to guess that a majority of the cast has been waiting to film such an exciting episode for a while.

As Touma walked further into the set, the director - Hikari Ito - looked up from the tech she was in a discussion with, and upon seeing the star of her show she smiled widely, politely dismissed the tech and made her approach. "There he is!" she exclaimed happily. "Already in costume and ready for his swan's song to Masqueraider Ouga."

Touma smiled self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck a bit. "Happy to be here - where do you want me to go first?"

"Well, I think makeup is ready for you if you want to stop there first. After that, I think some of the stunt crew wanted to run you through the finishing blow one more time to make sure there aren't any hiccups - that's the one scene where we can't afford any improvisation, especially since we're going with the old-fashioned way of staging it instead of leaving it all to CGI."

"Right, I'm on it!" Touma flashed her a thumbs-up, his energy nearly back up to normal levels, and he glanced back at Itsuki and Tsubasa. "Thanks for keeping me out of the rain, guys."

"Of course - good luck today!" Tsubasa cheered, giving Touma a quick hug before he walked off toward the dressing rooms.

Once he was gone, Itsuki turned to Tsubasa. "Before we head out for crepes, I want to see what Yashiro's up to. Are you alright with that?"

Tsubasa nodded. "Yeah, no problem. The crepe shop is open all day, after all."

"I think Tsurugi's rehearsing the dialogue he has with Hayashi this episode," Hikari helpfully offered, half paying attention and half listening to what the tech from earlier had started saying. "They'll probably be in one of the backrooms." She jabbed a thumb toward one of the doors at the side of the studio, and after providing a quick thank you Itsuki and Tsubasa quickly made their way through said door.

"What I'm suggesting is that perhaps our former prodigy has gone soft," came the cold, hard voice of Mai Hayashi. She and Yashiro were alone in the small room, both holding the episode's script just in case but neither of them actually looking at it. Mai twirled strands of the long black hair that had fallen out of her messy topknot between her fingers as she read, slowly pacing back and forth across the room. She glanced up when Itsuki and Tsubasa entered, broke into a small smile and lifted a couple of fingers in greeting, but she quickly fell back into character as, supposedly, the mysterious boss of the syndicate underbelly controlling Valhalla Pharmaceuticals and pulling on Dr. Schraube's strings - though, Itsuki had his doubts that she was really the ringleader.

Yashiro doesn't usually move very much when reading over his lines with someone, as Itsuki already knew. When he does move, it's almost perfectly in sync with what his character might have done even though he's not on camera. He immerses himself so deeply into the scene that he'll often shut out the rest of the world around him; he hadn't noticed Itsuki and Tsubasa as they entered, at least. "You truly suspect me of such a thing as lowly as an affection for him? A preposterous notion. If I didn't know the consequences of speaking so boldly, I'd say you've lost faith in me."

"A very convincing act, truly. What if I have lost faith? For years now you've been stuck on the same objective - get rid of that incessant Ouga. Not only have you failed countless times, but now we're on the verge of having two meddling Masqueraiders on our hands if he lives to finish training that little brat. Admittedly, Ouga is a formidable fighter, but after so much time, one has to wonder if the holdup is on your end."

A beat of silence. "...I admit that I've had some trouble with the Masqueraider, but that's not to say I'm incapable of handling him."

"Oh, I'm sure you're quite capable of that. "

Now that Yashiro had the benefit of his powers again, he loosened his control on his body heat just a little and manually forced a light blush to his face, completing his slightly flustered expression. "Just what are you implying?"

Mai's expression remained unchanging, as per her character. "Only that you may have taken the saying ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ a little too close to heart. At this point, if you can't or refuse to terminate Ouga, we can have him terminated without your help."

Yashiro's expression flared in indignation, a small hint of fear hidden beneath it. "I-"

"Don't say something you may come to regret." Mai stopped pacing. "Years of loyalty don't render you immune to punishment for mutiny, and once word gets out, it’ll be out of my hands."

"I don’t care anymore!” Yashiro blurted out, then stopped short as if even he was surprised at the outburst.

Mai’s smile was reminiscent of a cat that had just cornered a mouse, eyebrow raised. “Oh? That’s a very serious admission, dear Doctor.” As she continued to think it through, though, that smile disappeared and she averted her gaze, business-oriented once again. “I suppose it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for you to suddenly disappear… you’ve managed to slip away from us once, after all, and there’s a chance the someone who orchestrated that might happen to be looking the other way again, if you're lucky. Just don’t expect us to be receptive if you decide to come crawling back later. Without the connections of Valhalla Pharmaceuticals, I highly doubt you’ll be able to reclaim your old life.” Mai paused as Yashiro’s eyes widened slightly, as if he were unearthing an ancient memory. “That was the very reason you joined our humble family, don’t you remember? After the accident and your cross over into the ranks of our Genome experiments, the people were scared of you. You’re still driven out of town if you don’t hide your unfortunate appearance some way or another. By helping us carry out our agenda, we grow ever closer to properly regenerating human tissue and even restoring your original appearance. If you walk away now, you’ll be letting your access to all of that disappear forever.”

Yashiro brought his left hand up to graze the prosthetic already fastened to the top half of his face, sallow greenish-gray skin and fake stitches to give the illusion of decomposing flesh attached to the edges of living tissue and thus reanimated; it flirted with the line between cartoonish and realistic so as not to disturb the younger viewers of the show. As he started to lower the hand, he let it linger near his face to examine it as well - it, too, was made up in the Genome effect makeup. It was mostly covered by Kuro's long-sleeved suit jacket, but Itsuki knew the makeup extended from his hand all the way up his arm to the top of his shoulder, deep scars created to network around the limb held together by visible stitches and staples. “I appreciate your honesty, but I can’t leave – it’s not about me anymore.”

“I had a feeling you would say that.” Mai lowered the script to look Yashiro in the eye. “We both know where this is going; if you’re sticking around, I can’t afford to be so lenient with you any longer. Kill Masqueraider Ouga before that overeager child joins his ranks, and your transgressions will be forgiven. If you don’t… both you and the little trainee will join him in his death."

Yashiro reeled back. "Gh?!"

"Is there a problem?"

"...Removing him as an obstacle has never involved the discussion of killing him, just inhibiting his powers."

“We’ve spent too much time with the pacifier,” she returned bluntly. “The sheer number of failures we’ve endured has taught us that if we want him out of the picture, we’re going to have to take him out of the picture. He’s become too much of a distraction for you, and at this point we need your resources elsewhere. If you can't handle that, this is your last chance to walk away. Just know it’ll put more blood on your hands.” A pause; if Itsuki remembered correctly from his guilty peek at Yashiro’s script a little while back, her character uses this pause to turn off the voice recording device she has running.

Her expression softened. “He dies no matter what you do, Schraube. I’ll never understand what drives people to love, and I suppose that’s why I have no qualms relaying such morbid orders. Still... if love is everything people make it out to be, then if you have it, I don’t think you should let it go. I think you’re talented enough with your powers to stage a convincing enough death, something that looks like a misfire that caught both of you. I can wire you all new identity records and enough money to start over, you can take your dysfunctional little family and you can get the hell out of here. It’s the least I can do to make up for botching your first escape; if I send all of you away together, I trust you won’t stick around town this time.” Her brow was creased in worry. “All you have to do is accept the mission. If you nod, I know to set up assets. If you shake your head, you’re officially on your own.”

“...Why are you helping me? You said yourself that it would be more beneficial to the company if he was taken out of the picture.”

A shrug. “Call it caring. Call it boredom. It doesn't matter what you think it is - if a pig was given the chance to escape slaughter because the butcher opened the gate, would it stop to ask the butcher why?”

Mai paused again – on camera she would turn the recorder back on – and gave him a questioning look. Silence permeated the room as Yashiro averted his gaze to the floor.

“…As you command,” came the unwilling affirmation. The words were spat out as if they left a terrible taste in Yashiro’s mouth. However, a small, hesitant nod follows.

A small smile. “There’s the cutthroat man I remember. There is no longer a margin for error. Keep your eyes on your objective – and stay atop that thin line you walk… Nakamura.”

After he allowed the scene’s tension to hang in the air for a couple of beats, Yashiro lowered his script and pulled himself out of character. “That was phenomenal, Hayashi-san. I think you’re going to do wonderfully when the cameras roll. I know you asked for any notes, but I truly have none.”

As Mai too broke character, the brightness returned to her smile as the praise humbled her. “Ah, thanks! I thought your performance was perfect, too - as always,” she added with a chuckle.

Itsuki decided to make his presence known by offering a small bit of applause, and Yashiro started, only just noticing that Itsuki and Tsubasa were in the room.

“How long have you two been here?” he asked.

“We came in partway through the scene,” Tsubasa replied. “They’re really gonna fire the smoking gun on Ouga and Schraube’s relationship and Nakamura’s identity, huh?”

Mai chuckled. “Well, a lot of the older fanbase has already caught on. Nakamura’s slicked-back hair and giant visor doesn’t really fool anyone old enough to identify that he plays both Nakamura and Schraube. At this point, it’s not a big surprise.” She jabbed a thumb at Yashiro, currently dressed as Kuro Nakamura minus the large reflective visor meant to cover the prosthetic.

It wasn’t such a stretch of a connection, Itsuki had to admit; Nakamura was an ambassador working on the marketing side of Valhalla Pharmaceuticals, ensuring the company keeps a calm and friendly business front, but while he claims to be poor at the actual science he seems to know a lot more than he lets on about the company’s internal research and development, of which Dr. Schraube is the head. Kazan Sato, Masqueraider Ouga’s alter ego, writes for an online column and is trying to leverage Nakamura for Valhalla’s inner business practices, but the gradual shift in their relationship dynamic as the two characters have gotten to know each other over the years hasn’t gone unnoticed by the fanbase, nor has the effect it’s had on Schraube’s treatment of Ouga. Nakamura knows Sato and Ouga are one and the same, but while Sato has his growing suspicions, he doesn’t know for sure about his adversaries’ identities.

“So, how much of the script did you peek at?” Yashiro asked Itsuki, brow raised.

“Not all of it. I don’t know what happens in the end, but considering all the circumstantial evidence, something tells me it doesn’t end well.”

A small chuckle. “Perceptive as always. You’ll see later.”

Someone on the stage crew opened the door and peeked inside. “Hayashi-san, the stunt crew is ready for you. Akagi-san has arrived on set and they want to run you guys through the finishing blow one more time once he’s out of costuming and makeup. They want you now so they can run you through how the trick sword works one more time before we apply it to the stunt in full functionality. After that, the costume team should be ready for you.”

Tsubasa’s interest piqued. “Ooh, you have a stunt today? This is your character’s battle debut, then!”

Mai quickly gathered her script and a water bottle she’d had sitting on a chair. “Ah, yeah – this episode is wild. The fans are definitely gonna lose their shit when it hits the airwaves,” she chuckled. “I’ll see you guys later – break a leg today, Yashiro-san!”

Yashiro gives her an affirmative nod as she exits the small room with the tech. Once the door closed again, he set down his script and took a sip from his own water bottle. “So, was there something you needed to tell me without someone listening in?”

“Only to keep an eye on Touma’s stress control and stunt awareness, mostly,” Itsuki relayed. “He still has no clue his powers are back, so if the medic ends up needing to check him, he’ll definitely be sent home for being a toaster oven - and if he gets into a situation where he loses control of the flames, it won’t be good for any of us.”

Yashiro gave a sound of acknowledgement, nodding. “Yes, I realized when I arrived on set that it might be a predicament. I’ll keep an eye on him. How is Touma feeling about all this?”

“He’s pretty mixed about everything,” Tsubasa sighed. “That’s pretty expected, though… I’m sure he’ll be fine. It’s an adjustment process. He already looks a lot more excited than he was when we met up.”

“Not unexpected; it’s good that he’s starting to rebound, though.” Yashiro started gathering his things and setting the room straight, then motioned for Itsuki and Tsubasa to follow as he walked out of the small room, setting his cool public persona into place as they rejoined the fray of cast and crew. “Kurono’s photoshoot is this afternoon, yes?” he asked, sending an intentional glance at Itsuki. “She might enjoy being checked on today. It is her first foray into modeling – she’s bound to be a little nervous. Hopefully she isn’t developing cold feet.” That gaze into Itsuki’s eyes turned slightly pointed, and Itsuki suddenly caught what he meant – he should probably make sure Kiria’s nerves didn’t turn a summer photoshoot into a winter one.

Itsuki checked the work schedule on his phone while he followed Yashiro into the hallway that housed the dressing rooms to see that, yes, the modeling gig Kiria had booked was today, and there was a text from her sitting unread in his Topics that probably reminded him as such. He’d read it later; if he remembered correctly, the shoot didn’t start until later in the afternoon, and he didn’t want to push off crepes with Tsubasa any further. “You’re right. I’ll make sure to pay a visit today.”

As they approached the dressing room Yashiro shared with Touma, Yashiro opened the door and the three of them stepped inside the spacious room.

Touma’s eyes flicked over to see their approaching figures through the mirror, and he cracked as big of a smile as he was allowed while one of the makeup artists worked on his face. “Hey!” he called, offering a small wave. The plates of the Ouga armor had been removed and as of now Touma was dressed in Kazan Sato’s training gear.

“Glad to see you,” Yashiro greeted with his reserved warmth. “I was worried you would be late after the rain started – if I recall, you rode your bike today.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that was a bad call. I had to leave the bike at the hospital – maybe I can get Kiria or Ellie to pick it up later, if it stops raining. I could send Mamori, but the last thing I want is for her to get caught riding through the city without her license.”

“Kiria has her photoshoot today,” Tsubasa replied.

“Ah, right. Ellie it is, then.”

“Speaking of being late, where’s our Masqueraider Hama?” asked the second makeup artist in the room, attending to something on Touma’s hand. “He’s usually fairly punctual.”

Touma’s free hand had been scrolling through his Topics, and he zeroed in on one he had yet to read. “Oh, he texted me a little earlier… looks like he’s gonna be a little late because of the rain. The train schedules are all messed up; some of the trains started having mechanical issues because of how quickly the flood came in. He’ll love it when he comes in and starts hearing everyone finally calling him Masqueraider, though.”

The corner of the second makeup artist’s mouth turned downward, and he stood, making for the door. “Gotcha – I’ll let Ito-san know.”

With his view unobstructed, Itsuki could see what the second tech had been working on, and he almost snorted; the site around Touma’s hand resembled a small war zone. Various shades and types of blue-tinted makeup surrounded it, and the hand itself was tinted a frosty blue, half-shaded.

Touma rolled his eyes. “I know, it looks like I punched my hand through a bunch of blueberries. They’re trying to nail the frosty effect for the endgame scenes before we get there so they don’t have to mess around with the values between scenes. So, this’ll get wiped before we start filming, but these guys will be more informed on how to balance it when we reapply it later.”

Yashiro moved forward and lifted Touma’s hand, examining the shading, and Tsubasa leaned forward to see too. “It feels like it’s missing something, but I’m not sure what,” Yashiro concluded.

The first makeup artist paused her work on contouring Touma’s makeup and nodded. “That’s what we were talking about before you guys came in. We were trying to brainstorm what it could be missing.”

Tsubasa’s eyes narrowed, making a thoughtful noise as she scrutinized the job. After a few beats, the metaphorical lightbulb was lit and she raised a finger. “Have you guys used any highlighting material that gives it a pearl-like finish?”

The makeup artist raised a brow, taking in the suggestion. “No, I don’t think we have. That’s a genius idea, though – it’ll definitely make it look less flat and much more like frost. Thanks, Oribe-san!”

Tsubasa’s smile widened a little. “No problem! I know it sucks a lot when an important detail isn’t quite right and you can’t figure out why; I think the highlighting is gonna make a huge difference.”

“Since when were you so detailed with makeup artistry?” asked Itsuki.

Tsubasa shrugged. “I dunno, I just like to play around with my makeup in my spare time. I feel like if I hadn’t gone into the spotlight, I might have been a makeup artist. It’s a lot of fun to mess around with.”

Yashiro nodded in appraisal. “I can see that in you, Oribe. I’ll have to keep that in mind; maybe if you’re free I’ll let you test-run your skills on me sometime.”

Tsubasa’s eyes lit up. “That’d be so much fun – I can’t wait!”

The second makeup artist returned and was given the new information, and his own expression broke with clarity. “Ah, why didn’t I think of that?” he mused, retrieving a lighter and more pearlescent shade to highlight with.

As Tsubasa watched the mesmerizing progress, she flashed a thumbs-up. “That looks great! Maybe darken the blue around the fingertips just a bit and it should be golden. Er, not to impose… this is your work, not mine,” she chuckled nervously.

“No, I welcome the outside perspective,” the second artist replied without looking up. “The balance is definitely better for it.”

“That’s good to know,” Tsubasa said with a hint of relief.

Itsuki checked the time – they’d been at the studio for much longer than he’d expected. “We should probably head out if we want to get crepes before meeting Kiria.”

Yashiro nodded, and as he crossed over to his own makeup counter and slipped on Kuro Nakamura’s reflective visor, he started digging through his drawers for something. He lingered in one specific drawer for what seemed like a little longer than needed to look through it, and when he came back out he held one of the small stones he used to warm with his magic back in the day. It was meant to be a refreezeable silicone ice cube one would wash and reuse to keep a variety of drinks cold, but the group had quickly discovered that if a fire user infused one or two with their magic, it would act in the reverse, keeping a drink warm for a majority of the day and if an ice user drank it, it would return their naturally freezing body temperature to normal human levels. So, the norm became that Kiria or Mamori would take one of these fire-infused drinks with them to gigs so they wouldn’t encounter the possibility of being temperature checked for one reason or another and being shown to have the body temperature of a cold corpse. This stone was already heated; Yashiro must have lingered in that drawer once he found it so he could heat it without Touma noticing.

Without really letting Touma see what it was, Yashiro pressed it into Itsuki’s hand. Its comforting warmth could be felt in his palm. “Give Kurono my regards when you visit her,” he instructed with a small smile, “and wish her luck.”

“I will. The both of you are going to do great today,” Itsuki returned.

“Bye, guys! Good luck!” Tsubasa cheered.

Touma’s smile widened as he waved back through the mirror. “You make sure to eat a crepe for me, Tsubs.”

As they made their way out of the studio, Itsuki attended to the Topic Kiria had sent him.

-DIRECT IM: KIRIA KURONO-

Kiria Kurono: hey itsuki. ik things have kind of been hectic for you recently but um. that photoshoot is today and i’m a little nervous. i’m worried about messing up and humiliating myself, let alone how the public is going to react to the style i'm going for, and the model i’m shooting with has a lot more experience than i do - i’ve heard she’s a little scary if she gets mad. do you think you could stop by?

Itsuki Aoi: Of course. I promised Tsubasa I’d meet her for crepes, but after that I’ll be right over. I know trying something so different from your normal is nerve-wracking, but you’re gonna rock it – just stay confident.

Kiria Kurono: …thanks. <3

Chapter Text

"Wish we could have gotten here before the rush," Itsuki commented as he looked in at the line of patrons that was already snaking out onto the sidewalk outside the crepe shop. They weren't in awful standing, though, he had to admit; the people lining up behind them were probably in a worse mood, and he was still on track to meet Kiria at her photoshoot. Another line snaked out of the video game store next door, pouring out in the other direction; something big must have been set to release that evening.

Tsubasa's smile was energizing as she looked on toward the storefront. "Hey, at least we beat the rain," she pointed out. The rain had stopped falling by the time they'd reached Harajuku, much to Itsuki's surprise, and he did have to admit that being further back in the line was better than being further back in the line in the pouring rain. "Besides - how long I have to wait for a crepe never really matters to me, as long as I get one."

His own grin was amused, happy to see Tsubasa so carefree again after all the bizarre happenings of the past week or so. "I wouldn't be surprised if your only dying wish would be one last crepe."

"Aww, you know me so well!"

He laughed. "I'd hope so, after seventeen years."

Her expression broke as the information caught her off-guard. "Seventeen?   Has it really been that long?"

"Do you mean that like you thought it's been longer or shorter?"

She shrugged. "I mean... both? I don't know. In general it feels like it passed in a blur, but when I think about how much we've been through, it feels like eons."

Itsuki nodded as they followed the forward shift of the line. "I get what you mean. I've felt that way when I actually stop to look at how much we've done together since we met. The same thing comes to mind with Touma, too."

"Time is weird," Tsubasa sighed.

"You're telling me," Itsuki muttered. "It feels like everything that's happened recently passed by in its own blur."

She raised an eyebrow. "Because the number of times you've blacked out during all of this has nothing to do with that?"

"Touche."

Tsubasa fell silent for a moment, expression softening as her mind seemed to linger on the subject. "...If there was anything you think I can do to help the blackouts go away, you'd tell me, right?"

"I mean, yeah, but right now the blackouts themselves aren't really hurting me necessarily. They just happen at really inconvenient times, and that's what puts me in danger sometimes. If anything, the information we've gotten from them has been helpful."

Her disapproving stare bored into Itsuki's head. "Please don't give away your safety for information..."

Itsuki placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's fine, Tsubasa. They aren't hurting me yet, and even if they were, I don't think there's any way to stop them right now. I'll tell you if any of that changes, I promise."

Skepticism danced in Tsubasa's eyes, but after a few beats she said, "Alright... I'll trust you. Just don't shoulder any of this stuff on your own - you've done that way too many times with smaller things than this, and I know you by now."

He chuckled self-consciously. "Yeah, I know I've been pretty bad about that lately. I'll try my best to keep everyone involved updated with everything."

"Good. We're not going to get anywhere if you keep everything to yourself- whoa!"

As they turned around the corner in the line just outside the front of the shop, Tsubasa's foot caught on an uneven edge in the pavement and she was sent flying toward the ground. Before she made contact, though, someone from the other line leaned forward and caught her by one of the shoulders of her shirt.

"Whoa - you've gotta watch where you're going, Tsubasa!" Barry lightly chided, helping her back to her feet. His stance was almost awkwardly wide as he used one foot to hold his spot in the line he'd been waiting in as he reached out. The person behind him tried to shift forward and take Barry's spot, but his head snapped back. "HEY! My foot is still holding my place! Where's your sense of Dia Witch Honor?!" Slightly intimidated, the person stepped back and Barry slipped back into his line.

Suppressing a laugh, Itsuki said, "It's good to see you, Barry. What are you in line to buy this time?"

Stars danced in his eyes. "The collector's edition of the new Dia Witch Online expansion comes out at midnight! I need my hands on the code for that limited-edition skin, " he practically growled, making Itsuki worry that he would squeeze all the filling out of his crepe in his strong grip.

Wait…

Itsuki's brow furrowed. "If you've been in line all day, how did you get a crepe?"

"Huh?" It took Barry a second to remember he had a half-eaten crepe in his hand. "Oh! I paid a guy in the crepe line to get me one too. I don't need rations if I'm next to a place that sells food! That's why I try to preorder from this store whenever I can."

Tsubasa was barely fazed; five years under his instruction had well-accustomed her to Barry's antics. "You've brought rations to wait in line for a game before?"

"What's it to you?" He asked almost indignantly. "If I'm holding my spot in a line, I don't wanna be hungry while I do it!"

Tsubasa shrugged after a beat. "Fair enough, I guess." Suddenly, though, she cringed a little. "What if you need to use the bathroom?"

Barry's expression darkened. "Don't ask." The expression broke, however, as a thought seemed to make itself aware in his head. "Oh, I've been meaning to talk to you guys about something important." The volume of his voice lowered some. "Maiko told me there might be some Mirage-related incidents cropping up again, yeah?"

"Something like that," Itsuki corroborated.

A grim nod. "Hey, I won't ask unless it becomes my problem directly. I just wanted to let you know that if you need me to close the lesson studio for anything at all, just say the word. You know where I keep the spare key, and my outsider clients are used to me suddenly rescheduling," he chuckled, jabbing a thumb at the game store as an example.

Itsuki nodded - that would work out perfectly for sword training. "I might take you up on that soon, Barry. Thanks."

A commotion could suddenly be heard from inside the game store, and somewhere in the chatter Itsuki could hear a sharp exclamation of "What do you mean, we don't have enough Dia Witch Academy Expansion preorder codes?!"

"Uh oh," Tsubasa whispered as protests began to voice from the long line and anger began to boil beneath the surface of Barry's skin.

"Looks like I have to go," Barry told them. His surprising amount of composure was almost more chilling than when he usually blew up, an almost quiet anger uncharacteristic of him. "There's suddenly an ordering mix-up I need to set straight," he growled, turning toward the line, which was now crowding into the store angrily, trying to get to the bottom of the problem, and stormed in toward the door.

"If you get arrested, we're not using company funds to bail you out!" Itsuki called in after him. He waved a hand to signal that he'd gotten the message, but he didn't turn around or slow down.

"The poor staff in that game store," Tsubasa sighed.

"Yeah. Hopefully he isn't too hard on them." The crepe line continued to shift forward, and finally Itsuki and Tsubasa were able to place their order.

Once they’d received their crepes and one to bring to Navarre - “For science!” Tsubasa had justified - they swung into Itsuki’s car and began the drive through the city toward Itsuki’s apartment, where they’d left Navarre while out and about. Itsuki munched on his crepe absent-mindedly as he drove, which probably wasn’t the best idea, but the crepe line had stretched on longer than he’d expected and he had his doubts he’d have time to sit down and eat at home before he had to meet Kiria.

"How are you feeling about all this, Tsubasa?" Itsuki asked, breaking the silence in the car.

She cast a glance at him, a little confused. "About all of what?"

"You know - all this fighting starting up again. We never expected to even get in contact with our old Mirages again, let alone thought that the world might be threatened again so soon."

Tsubasa sighed. "You know? That's a really good question." Her gaze shifted to the road in front of them, staring out into the distance. "There are definitely some good things that have come out of it; we're finding definite connections to our Mirages again, like you said, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited to find Caeda," she started. "But… Medeus was hardly five years ago. It sounds like a while when I say it, but it feels like it was just yesterday, and I have to wonder if everyone's ready to be thrown into something that's probably more dangerous than what we've done before. It's so much easier for someone to get injured, and if one of us gets killed, I…" Unable to find the correct words to describe her worries, she trailed off.

Itsuki nodded understanding as he turned onto his street. "I get what you mean. That's kind of why I tried to keep it to myself for as long as I could - I didn't want to put any of you through this again."

"That didn't last long," Tsubasa deadpanned.

"I never said I was good at it. Besides, it's definitely been better to have you guys with me. I admit I'm not in the best health, myself, and I don't think I'd be very sane at this point if I'd continued to work at this on my own. So, thanks for forcing yourself in," he chuckled.

"As if I'd do anything else for one of my best friends," she retorted, a soft smile on her face. "You helped me so much with mapping out my first steps as an idol, all while we were in school and fighting Mirages - I figure now's my time to repay you."

Itsuki smiled sheepishly. "Ah - that makes it sound like I need compensation… you never needed to repay me. Helping you out was just the right thing to do."

"I know," Tsubasa replied as Itsuki pulled over in front of his apartment building. "That doesn't mean you don't deserve it, though."

"...Thanks, Tsubasa." He quickly checked the time on his watch and grimaced; he wouldn't have time to go inside. He'd made a good decision to eat his crepe in the car, since now he'd probably be able to finish it before he got there.

Tsubasa gave him a knowing look and stepped out of the car. "I know, you've gotta catch Kiria's photoshoot. I still call this a successful crepe brunch, though. Give Kiri all my love, tell her I'd totally be there if it wasn't a closed set and tell her she's gonna look great - and I'll send you pictures of Navarre's reaction to his first crepe!"

Itsuki stared her down, amused. "And if he doesn't like it, what are you going to do with the rest of the crepe?"

Her own smile turned devilish. "That's the beauty of it - if that happens, I get a whole second crepe to myself."

"And there's the ulterior motive."

Tsubasa gasped dramatically, mock-hurt painted over her expression. "Itsuki Aoi, I'm offended! How could you accuse me of something so sneaky?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm still convinced you've made friends with one of the cooks at that shop who purposefully makes some of our orders wrong so you can get a second crepe sometimes when we reorder. I wouldn't put anything past you."

She shut her door so she wouldn't stall him anymore, but she stuck her tongue out at him through the window before she retreated.

Chapter Text

The commotion in a studio during a photoshoot used to be something that overwhelmed Itsuki as he walked into a modeling set, but over the years he'd grown used to the crew's fast-paced bustle as they manipulated every set piece, light and outfit to be perfect.

It didn't take long for Itsuki to spot Kiria wringing her hands, sitting in a chair as a makeup artist applied the finishing touches to her face. She wore a simple black two-piece with a long and gauzy purple coverup dress over it, as this photoshoot was meant to be released at the height of the summer. The bottom of the two-piece had short skirt ruffles, and the coverup had a faint hibiscus pattering that was most visible when it caught the light; the coverup also had a high slit on the left side of the skirt, allowing it to billow behind her more easily. She also wore a gray floppy sunhat. Her hair was in a ponytail, most of which had been curled into large beach waves. With the waves causing her hair to appear shorter, it looked as if it might only reach down just below her hips when she stood. A pair of cork-wedged sandals with crossing black straps tied it off; the whole outfit was simple, but in the end, not only did it keep the cool air Kiria had been marketed with when he'd met her, but it promoted the cuter side of her she'd slowly been rolling out over the last 5 years.

As Itsuki approached her, he barely heard her slight exhale of relief. The makeup artist working on her face, now finished, moved on to a blonde girl in a chair at the other end of the row, leaving the two of them to talk.

"I was beginning to worry you wouldn't make it," Kiria said.

"Sorry, the line for crepes was insane," Itsuki replied. "I pretty much dropped Tsubasa off and drove straight here after we had ours. She sends her love and luck, by the way, and she wishes she could be here," he added.

She chuckled lightly, the light adoration in her gaze seeming to briefly soothe some of her nerves. "Sometimes I wonder how someone can be as sweet as her." As she sighed, though, it was clear she was very nervous, and Itsuki grimaced ever so slightly as he felt the temperature drop by a degree or two.

"I brought you some of that tea you like, for luck." He offered the bottle of tea that he'd picked up on the way to the studio. Inside was the heated silicone cube, making the drink fire-infused, and because he'd bought a reusable water bottle identical to one he owned at home, Kiria would think it was indeed his and wouldn't accidentally throw away the cube with a disposable cup, not knowing it was inside.

Her smile was very appreciative as she accepted it, taking a small sip. "Thank you - you didn't have to do that." As she drank the tea, Itsuki could tell her body temperature had begun to rise as the temperature stopped dropping, and he let out the breath he'd been holding now that he knew things would likely be fine on the front of power exposure. Still, that didn't change the fact that Kiria seemed pretty mixed about the situation.

"Want to talk about it?" Itsuki asked.

Her lips thinned in worry. "Am I out of my depth here?"

Itsuki's expression softened in sympathy for Kiria's fear in this situation. "That's not my call. If you want my input, though... this is a big leap, and I'm pretty sure you knew it would be too, no matter how long you waited. This is the first time you're being completely open about your shift into a cuter style, after all, and considering your past experiences, I know showcasing and talking about such a style publicly like this looks and sounds pretty daunting."

She stifled a light laugh. "I think Yashiro's pessimism may be rubbing off on you."

"Let me finish," he playfully jabbed, knowing she wasn't incredibly serious about the suggestion. "It's not an easy thing to face the very concept you've been struggling with for so long, let alone embrace it like this, but if it was, then you wouldn't learn and grow from it. You've come so far since I met you, and if you felt ready enough to set up this next step, then I think you're ready enough to take it. Learning to accept yourself for who you truly are isn't easy, and it might not be loved by everyone, sure, but it's you. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of it."

Taking another sip of the tea, Kiria ruminated on Itsuki's words, then finally gave a tentative nod. "You're right. I knew that I would be nervous when I accepted this shoot, and I knew that I might have wanted to back out once I got here... but if I really wasn't ready for this, I would have rejected this gig like all the other magazine shoots from the last 5 years."

Even as she looked a little more relaxed than she had when Itsuki had arrived, though, Kiria snuck a fleeting glance over at the other end of the row of stools where the blonde model was still sitting, chatting kindly with the people around her as she waited for the shoot to start. The makeup techs had long vanished, allowing Itsuki to finally get a good look at her. Her long, wavy blonde hair reached all the way to her waist, and looked as if it was naturally that color. There were definitely features of her face that looked more notably foreign compared to the average Japanese citizen; her striking blue eyes reminded him a lot of Ellie. A fake pink hibiscus hair clip had been placed in her hair, and she was idly fiddling with a pair of red heart-shaped sunglasses in her manicured hands that Itsuki assumed she was meant to put on for the photos.

She too had a gauzy coverup, but it was more of a robe than Kiria's dress. The shimmery pink material was wide open as it hung from her shoulders, completely exposing the bikini she wore; a more risqué white number was held up with tied strings on her back, neck and hips, adorned with small red polka dots. She also had cork-wedged sandals to match Kiria's, but hers had white straps.

Looking back to Kiria, Itsuki definitely didn't miss the mixed emotions in her gaze, and none of them were great. She looked as if she wanted to say something to him, but didn't want to risk the other model overhearing. So, he brought out his phone and opened his Topic.

Itsuki Aoi: Is that the model you were telling me about earlier?

Kiria jumped a little when her phone buzzed on the table, but Itsuki's insistent gaze told her to check it, and she also opened their chat thread.

Kiria Kurono: yes.

Brow furrowing, Itsuki glanced at her again. She didn't look exactly as scary as Kiria had described...

Itsuki Aoi: What makes her so "scary?"

Kiria Kurono: i did some reading on her after i was told i was shooting with her. she's been doing this for ages - her parents are well-known fashion designers that live in the states.

Kiria Kurono: she supposedly doesn't take any bullshit from the people she works with and she'll call someone out if anything shady is going on/happening to someone else on set, which is nice, but i worry that might extend to anyone who doesn't know what they're doing. i know that's a strange fear, especially since i've heard she's very nice generally, but... idk

Itsuki looked at her again, his gaze fleeting in case her attention was drawn to his repeated glances. Now that Kiria had mentioned it, he did recognize her face from various magazines and other modeling events Tsubasa and Ellie had done, but he'd never interacted with her before. Before he started typing his response, though, he did see her flick a very short glance over at Kiria in what seemed like a kind and honest curiosity. He'd seen that look countless times since taking over Fortuna; this girl was likely a fan of Kiria's other work.

Itsuki Aoi: That's understandable, considering you've never done something like this before and don't know what to expect, but I don't think there's a need to worry. I've seen her at a few events before and I don't remember anything bad happening. It's probably more likely she's intimidated by you - she's definitely giving you fangirl looks.

Kiria started to tap out a response, but whatever battle the other model seemed to be fighting in her head came to a final decision, and she suddenly rose from her seat and started toward the both of them. Kiria deleted whatever she was going to type, shutting off her phone. Her nerves definitely shone through her polite, reserved smile as the younger girl approached.

"Hello, Kiria-san!" she politely greeted, almost sounding a little nervous herself. "Sorry if I'm bothering you, but if we're gonna be working together, I figured I should probably introduce myself. I'm Ann Takamaki - it's so nice to meet you! I'm actually a pretty big fan of your music, so I'm sorry if I get kind of overexcited at any point..." She chuckled awkwardly. "It's just such an honor to meet in person."

Ann's charming and sweet demeanor immediately disarmed some of Kiria's nerves, and she nodded her head in affirmation. "It's nice to meet you as well. Your own reputation in this industry precedes you, and I admire your work. I should be the one apologizing, really; I'm sure you know this is my first photoshoot, so I'll have to ask your forgiveness for my inexperience."

She quickly shook her head. "No, no, that's alright! You don't need to worry at all," she reassured. "I still remember my first gig... it's a lot of nerves to deal with, for sure. I know this all seems a little fast-paced, but I'd be happy to help you navigate!"

As the rest of Kiria's tension unraveled, her smile became more genuine. "I'd love that. Thank you very much, Takamaki-san."

Ann waved her hand. "Oh, Ann is fine!"

Kiria looked as if she was going to reply, but a member of the crew stepped in, adressing her. "Kiria-san, we're prepared for your interview now." The crew member gestured to one of the sets, where two ornate chairs had been placed in the center of a gray backdrop. There were tables with water prepared, and a professional-looking woman, presumably a writer for the magazine, waited in one of those chairs. There were camera operators around the edges of the set, prepared to take photos of Kiria as she was interviewed.

"A-Ah, alright," Kiria stammered, the sudden fear almost rooting her to the stool she sat in.

Ann's expression softened a bit, placing a reassuring hand on Kiria's shoulder. "There's no need to worry. She's not gonna bite - I've modeled for this magazine before and their writers are usually less invasive than most."

Kiria nodded gratefully. "That's good to know. Wish me luck," she sighed as she stood, following the crew member to the set and falling out of earshot.

With Kiria preoccupied, Ann finally turned to Itsuki. "And you're..." The cheerfulness on her face started to melt into embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm awful with names and faces... I swear they just fly right out of my brain, but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before."

"No worries," Itsuki replied, extending his hand in greeting. "I'm Itsuki Aoi - you've probably heard of me if you follow Kiria."

The recognition finally lit up in her eyes. "Oh, right! You're the president of... Fortuna Entertainment." She'd trailed off a little as she mentioned Fortuna as if she was remembering something gravely important, confusing Itsuki, but it all made sense when she took his hand and shook it. Her skin was incredibly warm, a feverish temperature that Itsuki had only felt when Touma and Yashiro's powers were beginning to act up. A mark on the left side of her midriff caught Itsuki's eye, an exposed section of a tattoo that a patch of concealer had smudged away from; just enough to identify a pink Phantom Thief logo with the extra pair of eyes peeking out from the top.

Subtly, Itsuki led Ann a little further away from Kiria and other members of the crew that had begun to gather around the set, bringing her a little closer to her makeup station. "Your concealer is smudged," he murmured quietly.

She started, still taking in the information presented to her, and as she glanced in a mirror she also saw the exposed tattoo. "Oh, geez - could you hand me that tube of concealer on the counter there?"

Following her gaze to the only tube of concealer he could see on her workstation, he reached for it, but with his senses on high alert trying not to attract the attention of Kiria or the crew, a stray bolt of electricity from his hand hit one of the lights on the mirror and shorted it out. Quickly he distanced himself from Ann's station and handed her the tube, looking around to make sure no one had noticed.

As she took it and began to reapply it, she whispered, "So, are you the cousin Akira was talking about?"

Itsuki nodded. "He didn't tell me he had connections in the industry. I would have reached out sooner."

After inspecting her patch job and deeming it passable, she briefly looked back at Kiria, who seemed to be relaxing as her interview started. "Is Kiria-san...?"

"Yes. I knew she had reservations about her first photoshoot, so I came to make sure she didn't cause a deep freeze," he explained. "Has Akira told you that not everyone at Fortuna is aware of our... abilities returning to us just yet?"

Ann nodded. "He said something like that."

"Kiria's included in that party, at the moment... so, could I ask you for a favor?"

"Of course," she answered before he'd even told her what that favor was. "I'll try to help keep things warm, don't worry." Suddenly she cast a glance at a clean-cut man in a suit leaning against the wall, talking on his phone. He gave Itsuki an uneasy feeling, but he wasn't sure why. "I should probably keep getting ready before my manager starts to think you're trying to recruit me," she chuckled. "I'll give you my Topic ID, though - here."

As they exchanged IDs, a determined fire crossed through Ann's eyes. "If there's anything else I can do to help, let me know. I can't really offer any help in other places right now, though... my own abilities have kind of been acting up." As she continued to find alternative words for the more fantastical topics of their conversation, she kept a close eye around the studio in case anyone happened to be listening in. "Let's just say I haven't been able to talk to my partner since the others got theirs back." She tapped a finger to her forehead in a supplementary gesture, making Itsuki sure she was referring to her Persona. "She isn't responding for some reason. Anything else, though - text me."

"I will. On the same wavelength, if there's anything you think we can do to help you get back in contact with your partner, we'll be happy to oblige."

Ann's manager hung up his phone, now staring at Ann through a pair of shades that obscured his eyes, and Ann straightened out a bit, nodding politely in affirmation. "Thank you for the offer, Aoi-san, but I'll have to decline," she replied at a normal volume, definitely enough for her manager to hear. "I'm already a member of a wonderful talent agency that I couldn't say goodbye to. I'll definitely let you know if I change my mind, though! Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish prepping for my interview."

Going along with the lie, Itsuki nodded. "Of course," he replied. "It's a shame to hear, but I'd hate to tear you away from an agency you already love. Good luck with your interview and your photoshoot, and perhaps I'll see you around, Takamaki-san."

He caught her grateful smile as she turned back to her workstation. As he gravitated back toward the set where Kiria continued her interview, he kept Ann in his peripheral vision as her manager approached her.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the manager. His smile and body language were friendly enough as he spoke with Ann, and she didn't seem to be in any visible discomfort, but there was something about that man he didn't like. Akira had mentioned that every Phantom Thief had been through some sort of terrible trauma-inducing experience, so he trusted Ann's judgement to get out of any dangerous situations, but he also knew how easy it was to fall into a state of denial when it comes to repeat offenses.

He forced himself to tear his gaze away. He'd just met this girl - he should try to gather more information before making such bold assumptions, and even if there was something happening he couldn't do anything about it right this second. So, he turned back toward the set and watched Kiria's interview, putting it out of his mind for now.

After she'd finished and it was Ann's turn to go up, Kiria nodded appreciatively at Itsuki. "Thank you for coming, really... I think I just needed that last push to go through with this."

"It's no problem, Kiria," Itsuki said. "I'm really proud of you for taking this step in the first place.

She looked away with a light chuckle. "I couldn't have done it without you and Tsubasa encouraging me. I've rejected this part of me for so long that reintroducing it has almost proven more painful, unlearning all of the repression I'd practiced. I'm very lucky to have such supportive friends and loved ones in my corner."

Itsuki nodded. "We'll always be here to cheer you on."

"I appreciate it." As she glanced over at the beach set where she and Ann would be taking their photos, she added, "There's no need for you to stay, if you don't wish to or have someplace to be. I think I'll be okay from here - Ann-chan already seems like a very helpful guide."

"I'd love to stay, unless you want me gone," Itsuki refuted. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

After the initial surprise washed over Kiria's expression, her smile was very thankful. "I think I'd like that a lot."

Chapter Text

The sky was just beginning to turn orange when the photoshoot was over, and Itsuki found the scenery very calming as the pavement and other surfaces still had a sheen in the sun from the earlier flash flood. He hadn't seen a text from anyone on the Masqueraider set saying that they'd finished already, so true to his word, he started making his way back to the film lot to see if he could catch the end of the session. 

As he approached the security guard outside he was briefly warned that they were mid-take and he needed to be quiet as he entered, but was allowed entry. Quietly, he approached the lit set, cast and crew alike watching the scene unfolding before the cameras.

It was hard to discern exactly where the location would be until the editing team got their hands on the footage; the physical stage was simplistic, a platform resembling what might be the roof of a tall building created to stand on. The rest of the set was greenscreened, as per usual, but Itsuki could see a crew member he knew was on the special effects team quietly showing a few other crew members a rough mockup on her laptop of a wall of fire behind a nondescript platform, so something told him Touma and Yashiro would be surrounded by flames in post. Both of them were standing opposite one another on the stage, dressed in their full regalia and deeply engrossed in the scene. A small number of warm lighting setups cleverly bathed the entire set in a bright orange flickering light that was very akin to the way a real flame would waver all around them. As such, all the lights off the set were shut off to prevent other light leaking into the scene.

Itsuki hadn't caught the lines leading up to now as he'd entered the set, but as he tuned in to the scene Yashiro was firmly saying, "Kazan, stop!!"

Touma's form stilled, very nearly dropping the lance he'd had aimed at the doctor in surprise. "...How do you know that name?" came the quiet question from inside his helmet, likely too quiet for the microphones to pick up; despite this being his last official day with the crew, Itsuki knew Touma's work wasn't quite done - he would be called into the voiceover booth to dub over his full-suit dialogue sometime in the next couple of days.

Yashiro pulled Kuro Nakamura's visor from one of the pockets within his cloak and tossed it in Touma's direction, allowing it to scratch and clatter on the ground. "Why do you think I never took that visor off in front of you? Or perhaps my aversion to removing my jacket and gloves might have been more obvious?" He gestured to his now-exposed Genome arm.

Letting the spear fall to the ground, Touma pulled his helmet off, staring at Yashiro in disbelief. There were already a few scratches and bruises painted onto his face, Itsuki presumed from earlier battle. With his helmet off, his lines were now clear as Touma asked, "Kuro?"

A solemn nod. "More accurately, it was Kuro who was actually me," he explained. "It was just publicity for the company at first. I didn't know who you were, but your column had good traffic and glowing reviews, and if I could book a few interviews then Valhalla Pharmaceuticals might have seemed more personable to the general public. That was when they'd just started to search more thoroughly for volunteers and test subjects to perfect the regeneration formula, so they asked for my help in cleaning up their public image. I created Kuro Nakumura, forged his identity records so he seemed like a real person if anyone bothered to look deeper, and sent you that first email requesting an interview. Once I'd become the point of contact between the public and the executives, you know the rest; I kept coming back for more interviews as your readers requested.

"Then, after those first couple of years in contact with you, I caught you transforming after you had to leave one of our meetings early. If memory serves correctly, a horde of Genome monsters had been sent to a local hospital to cause a distraction, all so an assistant could steal a rare reagent for my research without being noticed. I was headed for the alley behind the café so I could call my superior and tell her the interview had ended early, but you were already there. You transformed and leapt up to the roof of the building."

"After that day, it was you who started requesting more meetings, not me," Touma interjected, looking as if he were finally putting a complicated puzzle together.

"Yes. It became a surveillance mission to stay close to you, become friendly enough for you to let your guard down and possibly divulge important secrets. But then there were... complications. I'm sure you've noticed I've kept my distance in recent months whenever we meet like this. I could no longer bring myself to hurt you, but I couldn't abandon Valhalla Pharmaceuticals either. Their resources were too valuable to my research."

"Complications? Then... are you saying that I wasn't misreading your actions over the last few months? That we could have been closer if you hadn't pulled away so quickly?" The mixed emotion portrayed in his eyes was very moving, and it felt every bit as genuine as it should have.

"You weren't misreading anything. It's quite likely that's where things would have gone if everything weren't so tangled." Yashiro's gaze was clouded with worry. "That's why I've tried so hard to distance myself, in both of our worlds. First I tried to force myself into being more ruthless with both my words and my attacks. Then, I tried to ruin your image of Kuro Nakamura with terrible rumors so you would wish to distance yourself from me on your own. I even attempted to fake my own death and flee, but I couldn't bear to leave you at the mercy of Valhalla Pharmaceuticals, as they certainly wouldn't go easy on you without me in the way.

"Kuro blatantly pushing you away last week was only the latest in a series, but the damage has already been done and what I wanted to avoid is now upon us. That's why I'm risking everything in this moment, telling you all of this... they want to kill you, Kazan. I wasn't careful enough, and now they think that if I haven't disarmed or captured you by now, then it isn't possible to. They want your head on a platter before your protégé is finished with training. The little Masqueraider-to-be is the boy that's been following you around for a while, isn't he? Daichi-kun?"

"I..." Touma's brow furrowed, trying to come up with a convincing lie, but Yashiro didn't wait for him to finish.

"I thought so. He isn't exactly the most adept at appearing inconspicuous just yet." He chuckled, but the sound felt hollow.

The breath seemed to have been stolen from Touma's lungs. "...Something tells me they want you to do it. Right?"

Yashiro looked down at the ground. "They're beginning to question my loyalty. If I don't, they'll kill me and Daichi-kun as well."

Touma started to deflate, beginning to show an emotion no one ever thought Ouga might exhibit before: defeat.  "Some twist of fate this turned out to be."

"Don't," Yashiro interjected. "I've witnessed you do scores of incredulous things over all this time, but the one thing I've never seen you do is give up - you aren't about to start now. There may yet be a way to escape this."

A mirthless laugh. "How?"

"Come with me. I can make this sphere implode without harming us. If we make our escape without anyone seeing us, everyone might just believe that my perceived misfire killed us both. We can take the boy with us whilst everyone is distracted; if we leave him here, I'm certain his days will be numbered. With all the damage we've caused to the city today, it wouldn't be too far of a stretch for him to be considered a civilian casualty. Everything is already set up for us to start over - no more fighting, no more espionage. Just us."

Touma seemed to be struggling to wrap his head around the situation. "I thought you did Valhalla's dirty work because you needed them to complete your research and fix Genomality. That hasn't happened yet, so... why defect now?"

"That was my intention, yes - to eliminate Genomality as a side effect for myself and anyone else afflicted in their tests and help them fix the regeneration formula." He shook his head, as if considering the thought foolish. "That's what I was trying to do, at least... but they've been playing me for a fool," he spat bitterly, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm to reveal numerous bruises and, more alarmingly, large patches of skin turned greenish-gray, all around puncture sites where it was obvious that needles had been stuck into his forearm. Dimly Itsuki again marveled at how realistic the makeup team could make such wounds and other add-ons like these.

"They wouldn't give me any of the existing Genomes for antigen testing whenever I asked, so every strain of it has been self-injected," Yashiro continued. "It was only recently that other scientists in the higher branches of Valhalla showed interest in it. They modified some of my strains and gave them to me for testing, under the guise of offering outside insight to speed up the process. I knew something was wrong when each of the ones they provided me simply made me more Genome than the last." A broken laugh.

"It wouldn't have been such a problem if the patches hadn't started to spread and grow larger. Most of them stopped quickly, but the last batch kept encroaching on my arm." He slipped off his glove to fully reveal the largest patch of necrosis. The puncture site was closest to his hand compared to the others, and the green had almost completely taken over it; only the tips of his fingers held any sort of visual life. It had also spread halfway up his forearm and, unlike the others, had tendrils reaching out that likely mapped veins as if the spread had been frozen. "I'm lucky the unmodified antigen had developed far enough to be able to stop the spread, even if it didn't eliminate the existing necrosis. If that hadn't been the case, I'd very likely be braindead by now."

Touma held up a hand to stop his tirade. "But Genomality isn't a virus, right? It's only a side effect in the regeneration process that they haven't worked out yet. On a living person, the regenerated tissue dies quickly, but it doesn't affect quality of life or spread to other living tissues - and when they tried the regeneration on people who were already dead, the Genome Monsters were the result. You told me all of that yourself during your interviews."

"They did something to the regeneration formula with my unfinished agent to isolate it from the regeneration process and make it seek living cells to attack them," Yashiro replied. "I'm unsure what; I hadn't time to sample and examine the strain. When I reported the failure, all the problematic strains had been taken into higher-clearance labs in an instant instead of destroyed. Since then, I've seen glimpses of living volunteers turned into Genomes with no visible indication that they'd died beforehand, reduced to servants in the labs and incapable of acting for themselves any longer. I know their minds are still somewhere in there - I've seen some of them look around frantically as if they're still aware within their uncontrolled bodies. I started packing up my essentials whenever no one was watching, after that. There is no morality in imposing death upon living people with the unchecked disease for one's own gain, and I never wanted to turn my own affliction into nothing short of a plague. Knowing I'm in some part responsible for imprisoning some of the volunteers I recruited through promoting the company to you makes my skin crawl. 

"They used me... but I don't need them anymore." He opened one side of his jacket to show a number of labeled test tubes. "I almost have the antigen perfected, and I've no need for their resources to make the final touches. I know they still want it once it's been perfected - however they separated the Genomality effects from the regeneration formula, it clearly didn’t make the latter sustainable on its own, or else they’d be calling off my research already. Without my research, though… once I finish the antigen, they'll never be able to reproduce it." Yashiro gestured to another pocket where a sheet of paper was rolled into a vial slot. "If you remember, I told you there was a reason I prefer taking notes on physical paper.

“With this, we could cure Genomality on the other living subjects from the regeneration trials, free the infected, effectively lay the Monsters back to rest and figure out why they want a Genome army in the first place; the answer to that question certainly can't be good. Otherwise, if we decide we're completely done with this battle, we can simply pass on the means to someone who will use it properly. I imagine that you would still like to train the boy once we’re safer; we could give him the antigen once he’s ready and send him back."

"The other living subjects?" Confusion reigned in Touma's gaze. "Didn't you want the antigen for yourself?"

The softest and slightest of smiles crossed his features. "The last time I refused to remove my visor, you told me that everyone has their own scars no matter how big or small, and that they can't define me no matter how other people try to force them to. I told you that the judgement I received from mine has caused me do some unsavory things, and you didn’t care - you simply said that everyone has at least a little bit of good in them somewhere, and that it just needs some help to be brought out sometimes. Would you still say that now, knowing what was beneath my carefully crafted disguise the whole time? Knowing who I am and what I've done? I was partly responsible for the botched regeneration process, if you remember - you could even claim Genomality to be my fault."

The Masqueraider sighed. "If you asked me that before telling me any of the things going on behind the scenes, I’m not really sure what the answer would have been. I…” he trailed off. “Saying our relationship is based on a lie sounds really harsh, but…”

“I understand completely. Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t already made a move against me without listening to what I had to say.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he said. “I knew such a big lie kept up for this long must have had some sort of explanation behind it. I had to hear you out if you were coming clean now, of all times - you could have easily done so as Kuro at any time, if a heavy conscience was the only reason. Going back to your question, though…”

“You don’t have to force yourself to give a positive answer if it isn’t true.” His voice was solemn yet accepting. “I’ve done horrendous things, both as myself and as Kuro Nakamura. If there were ever any good in me, as you say, it has likely been snuffed out by now. There has to be a breaking point, even for your seemingly-unending optimism.” A broken chuckle.

“Don’t jump to conclusions; I still believe in you, even if you don’t. Truth be told, this is a lot to take in, and we have a lot to talk about later, but… even now, knowing both sides of you and the things you've done, it doesn't change my answer. Your intentions might not be the most noble, but your heart is in the right place; if it wasn't, you wouldn’t be risking your life to tell me this, and we both know that you probably would have found a way to take my powers away by now. My answer is the same."

Yashiro’s grateful smile was heartwarming. "In that case, the state of my appearance doesn't matter to me anymore. If I finish the antigen and find that I still wish to restore my appearance, I'll use it, but right now... I'm happy, I'm alive, and there's someone who cares for me no matter what I look like. That's what matters." Still, there was a hint of bitterness to that smile as he continued. “That being said, I understand if you no longer wish to have anything to do with me after we escape. I’ve been taking advantage of your trust and lying to you for years; it’s lovely to know that the feelings that eventually took hold of me were once reciprocated, but if knowing the truth pushes you away, I wouldn’t be surprised. I agree that we have much to discuss, but we’ve already been speaking here for too long.” He extended his hand toward Touma. "Run away with me, Kazan. Even if we just lay low for a little while and come back later - it's safer than sticking around now."

No one moved or spoke for a few seconds, and Itsuki could see a wide shot being established with the center-facing camera. It didn't take long, however, for Touma to smile and extend his hand in return.

"I've never been able to say no to you," he replied, starting to walk towards Yashiro's outstretched hand. "I'm not sure what we'll leave behind, what we'll be headed towards, or if we'll be able to expose Valhalla from the outside, but... I trust you, even after everything. That might sound stupid, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t be trying to get me out of here if at least some of the stuff that happened in the middle of all the lies wasn’t real. It certainly meant a lot to me, at least."

That smile finally lost the last of its apprehension as those words sunk in. "It did to me as well. No matter what may come our way, we'll face it together if you’ll have me," Yashiro replied, also starting to close the distance. "I promise you."

"Agreed. No matter what, we stick toge-"

Touma's affirmation was abruptly cut off by a strangled cry. His hand stalled mere inches from Yashiro's.

Itsuki watched through the camera monitor as the shot continued to hold on Touma's surprised and agonized expression. Small blue lights from the front edge of the stage angled up and started providing a sickly cold glow, likely marking where a special effect would start creeping up his neck in post; based on the frosted effect the makeup crew had been practicing on Touma earlier in the day, he figured it might turn out to be frost.

The camera cut wider again to show the prop sword appearing to have stabbed clear through the center of his chest. From Itsuki's angle, he could see how the trick katana was made of a dull, lightweight material that bent and held a shape easily, slotted in through an opening in the back of this Ouga suit. Somewhere in the suit there must have been a channel for the fake blade to bend around his body until it poked out through the front side, where a guiding hand had straightened it out to protrude directly outward. It was a perfect illusion from the angle of the camera, all set up while it had been angled away from the site of the stunt. More blue light marking started to grow on his chest where the sword appeared to have stabbed through.

Yashiro was frozen to his spot as Touma slumped to the ground and Mai came into the right camera's view behind where he'd been standing, sporting a new battle costume Itsuki hadn't yet seen. As he fell, she let go of the katana but made an overexaggerated motion with the hand she'd been holding it in once both were offscreen, to fake pulling the whole thing out.

"Hold!" Hikari called from the sidelines, pausing the scene so Mai could stoop down and gently remove the bendable sword from his suit. Touma quietly said something that Itsuki couldn’t hear from where he was, likely a joke as Mai and Yashiro both stifled a laugh. A crew member took the bent sword away and provided Mai with a proper katana prop, its red-coated blade appearing to crystalize as a frost effect crept over it.

As the crew members retreated back into the shadows, Hikari leaned in toward the monitors to make sure no one was visible that shouldn't be, then called out "Action!" once again.

"It's as I said," Mai stated calmly, quickly reassuming her character as she lifted the new blade into frame and appraised it. "I'll never understand what drives people to love."

The horror coursing through Yashiro's veins spurred him into movement again, swinging his sword straight for her. She blocked it without issue and held the block even as he tried to push through it.

"How could you?!" He demanded. "I trusted you!!"

She ducked out of the block, lowered a hand and another blue light marker darted toward one of Yashiro's feet; based on how Yashiro was suddenly rooted to that spot by just that foot, Itsuki assumed it to be Mai generating ice to keep him from moving as she dodged away. "And what a mistake that was. I thought you were smarter than that, Schraube... it takes elementary knowledge to guess that you're far too valuable for Valhalla to just let you disappear, especially after having figured out why we really wanted your base formula for the antigen. Of course we planned to hijack it for our own purposes - Genomality truly was an accident in our regeneration efforts, but it turned out to be a happy one once people started to see us as less of a friendly entity. In the living, it makes those subjected to regeneration feel indebted to us and more inclined to help us further our research; you, of course, fall into this category. After all, if they hadn't been given the opportunity to test the regeneration formula, they would have lost limbs, other critical body functions or even their lives. When the side effect of Genomality makes them look undesirable to the general population, they become driven to help us fix such a side effect and make the regeneration process whole, so they might have their appearances fully restored. Sound familiar?" she teased. "If any of those individuals start to get cold feet or begin to question their orders before they've outlived their usefulness, then we dangle the guilt over their heads, mention that we didn't have to offer them the experimental trial.

"More importantly, though, is what it does in the dead. The regeneration effectively brings their bodies back to life, but obviously their brain function has long gone. They prove more difficult to control in this state, but there's no need to manipulate or coerce them into doing our bidding; there's nothing to reason with in there, after all. In short, it creates willing and vicious guard dogs that can't talk back, highly valuable in keeping meddlesome forces away from our labs - and an employee that doesn’t talk back is useful when we have to go through more discreet channels to source our projects. As for why we felt the need to make it viral, well… having able-bodied servants from the living is much, much better than keeping up with the state of decay we have to repair on the Monsters." Mai paused, still looking slightly awed. "You spent a majority of the last few years cleaning up our public image because you were indebted to us for saving your eyesight and your arm, if not your life, and yet you never once questioned why new messes continued to appear? How disappointing," she chided. "Don't get me wrong, though; I wasn't lying when I said we need your talents elsewhere at this time. You still haven't perfected the antigen formula just yet."

Yashiro struggled against the ice that wasn't there; the blue light started to creep slowly up his leg as if it would be freezing upward in post, and as it did he forced more and more of it to still completely. "What do you need the antigen for, if you don't want to correct Genomality?"

Mai laughed incredulously, the most emotion her character has shown to date. "Do you really think you're in a high enough standing with the company to know that? I'm barely there myself!"

Yashiro's eyes widened. "So I was right... you aren't heading the company's control at all!"

She rolled her eyes and reached the blade of her katana out toward him, lifting his chin up to look at her; Mai was already tall as it was, and the costuming team wanted her character to be just a little taller than Dr. Schraube, so they placed her in tall sets of heels constantly. "You always did have a penchant for coming to the right conclusion but only voicing it when it was far too late. To answer your question, we were trying to achieve regeneration at first, if you remember, and we certainly haven't given up on that goal. The public thinks it's for the good of everyone or some mindless drivel of that sort, but there's really only one reason the higher-ups want such a thing in the first place, and I'm still low enough in the pecking order to have only the barest of ideas why. To be clear, though, we were never going to let you or any of the others use the antigen when you finished it. The extra manpower was just too enticing to pass up, and the company has enough money to pay any sort of reparations any of you would have demanded for the lies, or even to afford settlements or defense in court.

"As for this oaf," she looked down at Touma, "he was simply getting in the way of your better judgement and keeping you distracted from your research for far too long." Lowering her katana and turning away from Yashiro, she nudged Touma with her foot, causing him to cry out in pain. "He's been such a thorn in our side that I knew he would be a pain to attack traditionally, especially with you in the way, so I may have lied to you about setting you up to leave. After all, why go through all the effort to decimate Ouga when you could do all the work by bringing his guard down? It's one of the few things you're good at, after all," she jeered.

With an enraged yell, Yashiro wrenched his leg free and swung his sword viciously at Mai. This time he caught her off-guard, and while she managed to dodge or block the first few swings, he did manage to nick her cheek on the last one, and as she reeled her face away from the camera, she held a hand to the cheek that was now turned away. Hikari called another brief hold so makeup could swoop in and paint a small, thin line in fake blood along her cheek, and once the scene resumed she turned back, very annoyed as the fake cut was visible to the camera.

"Fine," she huffs. "Done with conversation, it seems. There's a perfectly nice living space set up for you within the facilities where you can work undisturbed - whether you come with us willingly or we have to chain you to the desk." With a bold yell of her own, she swings at Yashiro with her katana.

They block each other's attempted advances a few times, seemingly at their match, until Hikari triumphantly calls "Cut!" and both hold their pose for a few seconds until breaking.

"Everyone," Hikari called out, "I think I can safely say that was officially our final take as the Masqueraider Ouga team."

Applause and cheers rang out through the cast and crew alike as the stage lights were cut and the house lights were turned back on. A tension that had been present in both Mai and Yashiro's forms released, as if a weight had been lifted, and Itsuki believed it - that was a long, heavy and pivotal scene with a lot to remember and execute, and he wasn't sure what take this was, but they nailed it. Yashiro lent Touma a hand, helping him back upright. Touma's expression was mixed, sporting a very bittersweet smile as he looked upon the cast and crew before him.

A figure broke from the crowd and stepped on the platform, and Itsuki was glad to see none other than Riku Suzumoto in his brand-new Masqueraider Hama suit, standing beside Touma and giving him a pat on the back - a little harder than Touma had expected, if his slight jump and light cough in response was any indication. At 16, Riku was already encroaching on Touma's height, and if he got any taller than Touma or Yashiro, Itsuki knew his teasing would be relentless.

Hikari also stepped onto the platform, and Yashiro stepped to the side to allow her to reach her destination beside Touma. "I know this transition is a little strange, what with most of our current cast and crew having a confirmed future somewhere in the production of Masqueraider Hama, but I'm sure you've all noticed that we have one notable actor leaving our company today - our Masqueraider Ouga himself, Touma Akagi. This was his last day filming on the Masqueraider set with us, and I personally couldn't be more proud to bear witness to his stellar performance, and his growth as an actor and a person over the last five years. Do you have anything you'd like to say, Touma-san?"

Touma nodded, and Riku passed him his phone, which probably contained the notes he'd mentioned earlier. He glanced at them, but something changed in his expression, and he lowered the phone pretty quickly.

"You guys..." Touma chuckled almost in disbelief. "There's so much to say that I'm sure I'm not gonna be able to get it all across. My involvement with this show has been a wild ride even before I landed the audition - more than most of you will ever know. When we started, I wasn't even out of high school, and I've gotten to learn so much from all of you; everything from good stunting practices to dating advice, whether it was solicited or not." His chuckle was halfhearted compared to the laughter from most of the cast and crew, and Itsuki suppressed a chuckle of his own at the irony of Touma still being single even after an implied 5 years' worth of dating advice. Touma lightly shook his head, the joy of the memory mingling with the sadness of his departure, and continued. "I could go on for hours, but my point is, being able to grow up and learn from all of you in this environment has really been one of the greatest experiences of my life." He took a slow, deep breath. "Sorry to get real on you guys for a second, but as I'm sure most of you know at least vaguely, the Masqueraider series was one of the things that saved my life as a kid. Its fast-paced action and life lessons helped pull me out of a really dark time, and that's why I wanted to become an actor in the first place. I want to help other kids just like this series helped me, and to have been able to become a Masqueraider myself... it's one hell of a dream come true. I couldn't have done it without the help of my friends and family - and I consider all of you part of that group. I can't thank you all nearly enough for, well... everything." His gaze flicked to Riku briefly, and Itsuki knew that while he wouldn't air Riku's own dirty laundry to the crew unless he was okay with it, the message he was conveying was visible in his eyes: seeing one of the very children he'd helped and inspired become his successor was above and beyond what he'd ever expected.

Touma nodded to Hikari, and she raised her arms in celebration. "That's a wrap, everyone! Hama filming starts in two weeks!"

The earnest cheers and applause in honor of Touma warmed Itsuki's heart, and as the cast and crew started to disperse and talk amongst one another, Itsuki followed his friends as they started to gravitate toward the prop station.

"That last scene was phenomenal," Itsuki praised the group. "I can't believe they really killed Ouga off."

Mai snickered as she slung an arm around Touma's shoulders. "You should have seen the look on his face when he got the script - it was priceless."

Touma rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, everyone was surprised. I like the interesting plot twist, though, and no one's gonna know what to expect from Masqueraider Hama when it starts airing because of it. By all means, Ouga died a hero - we filmed a few more scenes earlier that really cement that in."

Yashiro nodded appreciatively. "It is a rather impressive cliffhanger for how the next season will play out - I'm under the impression that no Masqueraider season has ended with so many unknowns, yes?"

"Right," Riku answered before Touma had a chance to. "This is the first Masqueraider season where the main villain changes over time and the Masqueraider is directly killed onscreen. They've only ever alluded to past Masqueraider deaths in the season following theirs until now, if they don't have a supporting role in the next season for whatever reason."

Touma looked over at him, eyebrows raised. "And I thought you didn't care about Masqueraider before Raiga," he teased.

Riku crossed his arms, looking away. "Shut up..."

Itsuki laughed, turning toward the teenager in question. "How was your trip, Riku? I must have just started my leave when you came back."

"Oh, it was fine," Riku said, not sounding super impressed. "LA was pretty cool, but not really my thing. I can see why Ellie loves it there so much, though," he chuckled. "I heard you haven't been working much lately - something weird going on?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary." The lie easily slipped out, much to his relief. "Overworking myself just finally caught up to me. I'm mostly feeling better now, though."

Riku's eyes narrowed a bit, as if he could tell something was up, but he didn't press on it. "Alright, as long as you're staying healthy." As he looked back to Touma, though, he smiled briefly. "It's good to be back, though. I'll gladly leave Hollywood for Ellie to conquer."

Touma rolled his eyes. "Just say you missed me, brat."

The scowl that was so familiar to see on Riku's face returned to his features as he nonchalantly brushed Touma off. "Please. A week without you was a blessing, if anything," he retorted, though his agreement with Touma's statement was still fairly obvious beneath the deflection.

A devious smirk crossing Touma's features, he leaned over and ruffled Riku's hair, managing to tousle it for a split second before he was able to back away. "Yeah, yeah, be prickly or whatever, but you know you can't stay away from me for too long!"

Riku made a noise of protest as he backed out of reach from Touma's hand and tried to smooth out his hair a bit, but ultimately didn't refute Touma's claim.

"Watching you two interact is like watching an endless sitcom," Mai chuckled. She'd picked up the bendable katana from the prop table and started idly bending waves into it while they'd been talking. "I'm gonna miss it for sure."

Touma's expression broke as a realization came to him, and he looked over at Mai. "Oh - crap, this was pretty much your last day too! Sorry if my whole speech and stuff kind of overshadowed anything you might have wanted to say," he said, embarrassed.

Riku almost chuckled, picking up another weathered model of Mai's katana, this one a little more abused with two torn, slightly grimy scraps of fabric tied around the handle; a deep red silk one that was the same material as the silk from Ouga's costume and a black piece that faded to green at the edges, one of the ends of the tied knot sporting a piece of pattern Itsuki could see on a part of Mai's battle outfit. "What, you mean losing a fight to a newly awakened Masqueraider and a furious, grieving mad scientist wouldn't kill off her character?" he sarcastically quipped. "Blasphemy, I know. 'Least Schraube gets a cool new weapon out of it, though."

Touma shook his head, smiling. "You need to stop adopting my sarcasm, unless we want two of me running around the office." Looking back to Mai, though, his smile dropped just slightly. "I really am sorry if I upstaged your exit with mine, though."

Mai waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about me - you're definitely the star of the show today. Besides, I've got one entire flashback scene in the first episode of Hama," she playfully overexaggerated, "so technically my wrap is after the break between series anyway."

As Itsuki heard a familiar elated laugh behind him, he and the rest of the group lit up as Mamori emerged from the crowds of celebrating cast and crew, wrapping Touma in a warm hug. Her long brown hair was swept over her right shoulder in an intricately pretty French braid, and her silver-framed glasses were pushed crooked for a moment. At present she wore a light, airy yellow sundress with purple flowers patterned on it, and she wore a lavender sweater over the top with sleeves that reached halfway down her forearms. White tights and brown flats completed the look. As she retreated from the embrace, straightening her glasses, Itsuki noted that her right arm was made up in the pallid, clammy greenish-gray of a Genome, the makeup extending from her hand to almost her elbow where the purple sleeve was pushed up, but she must have chosen not to explain it at this moment - Mamori's smile was bright and excited as she regarded the cast. "That was so cool - I couldn't think up a better way to finish off filming!"

"Thanks, Riri-chan," Touma replied, the endearing moniker still a beloved staple in the office even though Mamori was no longer the child who had first recieved it. "They were pretty adamant about having my death be the last scene we shoot just because of how satisfying it would feel, and they weren't wrong." He pointed toward her makeup-covered hand. "Did the makeup crew ask to test out new shading on you or something?" he asked.

Mamori looked down at her arm, as if she'd just remembered it was still green. "Oh - actually, Ito-san asked if I wanted to duck into one of the smaller sets to help her film a small teaser for the start of Masqueraider Hama. She said she wanted to tease the presence of a key character in the new plot, but that they haven't officially cast anyone for the role yet, so she needed a body double. Apparently this character is at least part Genome," she added, waving her hand. "It wasn't a speaking part or even a face part - only my arm needed to be on camera, in fact, so that's all that makeup really focused on. I suppose I happened to be the closest to the specifications of the character." She shrugged. "I got to know her well while they were putting the makeup on, though. She's very nice, and I can see why you all enjoy working with her so much."

Yashiro raised an eyebrow, intrigue filling his gaze. "Really? Ito-san doesn't just pick a big name for bit parts like that unless she has her sights set on casting that big name. Even before I made my debut as Dr. Schraube, answering her request for a quick, nondescript body double to tease his entrance was my introduction to his character. It was in the middle of casting for the Raiga and Ouga crossover movie, as they were starting to fill out the future Masqueraider Ouga cast at that time; Touma had recently been cast, and he'd asked if I wanted to tag along with him to the set as he learned his first few stunt sequences, since I'd just started trying to commit to branching out with my work." He paused, glancing inquisitively toward Touma. "Did she ask you to do that?"

"Kind of?" Touma said. "I asked her if I could bring you first, since you really did want that experience, and she just lit up," he chuckled. "She told me you were her dream casting for Schraube but she was too nervous to try and approach you because you'd never accepted any roles like his before, so she was thrilled to hear that we were at least friendly coworkers at the time."

Yashiro nodded. "I'm not entirely surprised, to be honest. It all seemed a little too convenient." He laughed lightly.

"Do you really think she might want to cast me?" Mamori asked. "What was your body doubling for Dr. Schraube like?"

"The circumstances were similar to yours. After a few sessions of shadowing Touma on set, she pulled me aside and asked if I could body double for some promotionals featuring a villain that was so-far uncast, adding that she'd happily pay me for the trouble if I wanted. If I recall, she actually asked if I could get into the costume concept they were finalizing at the time, so I did and we recorded a short length of promotional material whilst I was faced away from the camera. At the time, I saw it as a small step toward taking those lower-maintenance roles I wouldn't normally take or roles out of my comfort zone, especially as it didn't sink into too much of my time. She didn't require me to speak or give away anything that could hint towards me playing the character, as by all intents and purposes I was simply a body double.

"Once she asked me to officially play the doctor, she admitted that it was her little test run to gauge how well I might mesh with the crew as we worked, and if it seemed like I'd be as much of a natural in the position as she thought I'd be. It took a little soul searching to determine if this was a role I could master, as I'm sure you know, but as you can see it turned out quite alright." His smile was warm as he held Mamori's gaze. "In conclusion, if Ito-san says the character you've body doubled for is core to Masqueraider Hama's plot, and she seemed to enjoy working with you however short or basic the filming time was, I wouldn't be surprised if you received a casting offer from her soon."

Mamori seemed excited at the prospect, but as she continued to process it, something shifted in her expression, and she said, "That sounds wonderful, but... I'll have to check my schedule. I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit it in. Besides, I don't know if a role in a fast-paced show like this is really for me..."

Riku turned a concerned gaze toward her. "I think you'd do really well in Hama. I know you love Masqueraider - you can't wait to watch the show every week with us, even though you know how it ends now."

She looked away from him bashfully, and Itsuki had a feeling that she would have blushed if her body temperature wasn't unusually low as he suspected it to be. "I mean, if you really think so, I can't really convince you otherwise," she said. "But that doesn't suddenly open up my schedule, anyway."

"You do have that album release coming up," Touma mused. "How's the songwriting going?"

Mamori's nervous laughter didn't sound very confident. "It's, er... well... it sure is going!"

Yashiro chuckled. "How promising."

"You know how hard it can be to write something that sounds good and still has the heart in it," she said. "I just haven't quite found that balance yet with this one."

"Yeah, I feel that," Touma said. "It's been kind of hard to put what I want to say into a song."

"Oh?" Mamori turned back toward Touma, attention diverted. "I didn't know you were writing something."

He absently scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah... you guys know I'm probably taking a short break between Ouga and whatever show comes next. I'm waist-deep in invitations to audition for nearly every part under the sun, and I've kind of been procrastinating on sorting through them. So, I'm going to take a step back and evaluate where exactly I want to take my career from here." He sighed almost incredulously. "Ouga was my big dream, you know? Now that I've gotten there, I don't really know where to go next. The sky's the limit, after all."

"And you're planning to release some music during this break?" Yashiro asked.

Touma nodded. "I can't exactly let myself fade into obscurity, can I? If I stay stagnant for too long, people will move on. I'm not the best singer, and writing songs on my own is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, but I want to give it a shot."

"Oh, please," Mai countered. "'not the best singer,' my ass. You killed it on the Ouga theme, and I've heard you humming and singing while you sort out the blocking for your fight choreo before when you think you're alone."

Touma blushed, an embarrassed laugh escaping him. "It helps me focus."

"My point is, you're an awesome singer and I kind of think the world is sleeping on your voice," she finished. "I hope you manage to work out whatever's tripping you up with your song."

"I'd be happy to help you figure it out," Mamori offered. "It sounds like it'd be a lot of fun!"

He smiled appreciatively, but shook his head. "Nice try, but you have your own song to focus on first. Trust me when I say focusing on everyone else's problems won't make your own go away." He laughed when she crossed her arms and mumbled something about him being right, but as that laughter died down, his expression almost grew ruminative. "Besides, I want the song to be a bit of a mystery, anyway. It's not interesting if I tell you everything about it before it releases... if it releases, anyway. This one I've been stuck on isn't the strongest of my ideas."

A few crew members called Mai's name, and Itsuki could see a small group of them near the door, gearing up to leave and beckoning her over.

Looking back to us, Mai started to break free of the group. "I've gotta get out of the costume before my ride home goes to the dinner party, since they aren't going to stay long - are you guys coming to that?"

"Yes, I think we'll all be there," Yashiro confirmed, looking around to everyone else for objections.

When no one raised one, Mai nodded and started off for her dressing room. "Cool - see you there!"

Once she was gone, Riku scoffed. "A Frost King raid doesn't really count as a 'dinner party'."

"But it's more fun and you like Frost King more than any old dinner place out here," Touma said. "Or would you rather go home and do the homework I know you've been putting off?"

Riku reeled back in surprise, a slightly panicked "How did you-?!" escaping, but he stopped himself and shook his head. "You're not my dad," he defended.

Touma rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, but the adoption papers still say I'm responsible for you, so it's my job to notice things like that - and if you're gonna complain about a cast party at Frost King, then I know you definitely have something else to do if you don't want to go."

"I want to go," he cleared up a little too quickly, causing a few chuckles among everyone else. "Besides, were you such a star student when you were my age?"

"Actually, he did pretty well in class during our first and second years," Itsuki mused. "He had to work his grades up pretty far to get accepted into Engeki - it was really impressive how much he'd turned them around by the time they finally picked him up."

"Just your first and second years?"

"Yeah. Our third year, well... you know things were really busy around then." He spared a quick glance to make sure no one was actively listening to them; with the studio largely emptied at this point, the few straggling groups were chatting loud enough to be distracted and they were far enough away from earshot, so Itsuki leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. "Once Tsubasa and I became Masters, it almost became a habit for both Caeda and Cain to get my test answers from Chrom in classes we shared, so Tsubasa and Touma could copy me even if we were across the room from each other."

Touma snorted. "Further than that. My bio classroom was the one next to yours and Tsubasa's, and Cain could still talk to Caeda because Tsubasa was in the back against the shared wall."

Riku looked more awed than surprised. "That's actually pretty genius," he said. Looking over to Mamori, he asked, "We had class together back then - why didn't we do that?"

Mamori laughed. "Draug would never have given my answers away, even if I wanted you to have them. He probably would have seen it as disrespectful."

"Yeah, you're right," he conceded. "Abel probably wouldn't have even asked for the same reason."

"Eh, Cain didn't like the idea either. He just knew that it wasn't a matter of not knowing the answer - it was not wanting to take the time to figure it out, at least for me. So, probably against his better judgement, he asked, and Chrom provided," Touma recounted. "It's not foolproof, though. It worked like a charm for me and Tsubasa until Itsuki started writing the wrong answers on purpose."

"I wasn't about to let you cheat your way through your core classes," Itsuki said. "I wanted to make you think about the answers."

"Yeah, yeah..." Touma sighed, the old memory fresh in the air. As his phone buzzed on the table, though, he picked it up and silenced whatever alarm he had running to keep him on schedule. "I should probably get out of the costume, too," he said with a note of finality. "I didn't think it'd feel this strange to know that this is the last time I'm wearing it."

"The last time until they ask you back for a special or something, at least," Mamori added. "They're going to at some point. Since some of them aren't canon to the series, Ouga's death doesn't matter in those cases. Once you're a Masqueraider, you're never done with the series, after all."

He chuckled lightly. "Yeah, you're right - glass half full and everything... thanks, Mamori. I'll be right back, you guys." As he tossed that behind him, he waved and also headed in the direction of the dressing rooms.

Yashiro also started toward that side of the studio, beckoning to Riku. "We should probably be changing as well, yes?"

Riku curtly nodded, following him. "Definitely... something tells me all that latex on your face wouldn't be super comfortable for an ice cream run," he chuckled.

"Oh, I'm leaving the Genome overlay on - it's a fairly lengthy process to remove it, so I'll have Itsuki help me once we get home. Part of the fun is being able to scare the employees, after all." As they both retreated, Yashiro's smile held that hint of mischief Itsuki so loved to see on the rare occasions it surfaced.

That left Itsuki with Mamori, who turned to him. "Itsuki, while we're alone, there was something I wanted to ask you... I didn't want to freak out any of the others if it wasn't a problem."

That gave Itsuki pause. "If what wasn't a problem?"

She looked around to make absolutely sure no one was in earshot before she quietly said, "Well... do you know if there might be some sort of commotion related to Performa cropping up again?"

Itsuki tensed a bit as he processed the question. "That's out of the blue. What makes you ask?" he deflected, hoping he sounded more analytical than anything. "Did something happen?"

"Well, not necessarily..." She looked a little troubled. "It's just something I saw earlier, I guess. During the flash flood, I was on a train headed from the recording studio to the office, and for a second while the rain was at its hardest, I thought I could just barely hear Performa glittering around me," Mamori explained. "I could have just been hearing things, but I don't know for sure. I just wanted to see if there was anything else going on to back it up that I might not have known about. I know that if something was starting up again, you'd probably try to keep us in the dark until you couldn't anymore for our safety, because that's just the type of person you are..." she laughed. "So, I figured it was worth a try."

"I see." Inwardly, Itsuki was relieved; she hadn't stumbled upon any hard evidence yet. "Well, aside from the flood itself, if anything out of the ordinary has happened lately, I haven't noticed," he lied. "I'll start keeping an eye out, though. If something like that happens again, could you let me know? I wouldn't want to discount the possibility of another Mirage attack, and being ahead of the curve could help if that's the case."

Mamori nodded, giving a determined salute. "Yes, sir!"

Still, Itsuki logged Mamori's account as something he should look into later. If she had truly heard the glimmer of Performa during the flood, then there was no doubt it wasn't natural - and that made him worry about just how close this world was already getting to the clutches of their enemy, assuming it was indeed the Silent Dragon.

Not long after, Riku was the one who returned first - he must have completely rushed to take his armor off and get back into his usual brown motorcycle jacket, dark green T-shirt and jeans. Itsuki knew the motorcycle jacket was a little more for show than anything - the legality of both Riku and Mamori being able to ride at their age aside, he knew Riku was still trying to get the hang of riding a motorcycle, much to his chagrin. Mamori has offered to help him out before, as while she doesn't utilize it as often as Itsuki knows she wants to, she'd taken to the motorcycle like a house on fire, but he'd so far been adamant that he wants to figure it out on his own.

Mamori chuckled lightly. "You didn't need to rush."

"I don't like being one of the last ones out of the studio," Riku said. "The lights get turned out and it's almost like I can hear a voice whispering around me. I know it's probably just me psyching myself out, but I still hate it. I wanted to get out early so I could walk to Frost King with whoever decides to leave first."

"That's fine," Itsuki replied. "I can text Yashiro and say we're getting a head start, if you want to leave now."

He shrugged. "I don't care, either way is fine."

"Me neither," Mamori chimed in, picking up a modeled Genome Monster mask from the prop table and examining it. "This is one of the masks from the live showcases, right? I've always wondered how these things get made. The cloud of dust that comes out of them on stage always looks so similar to the computer-generated ones on the show. Do you know how the special effects team makes that happen?"

Riku looked over and started to reach for the mask once he realized what Mamori was holding. "Oh, don't turn it so fast. For the breath they fill a layer of it with--"

As Mamori looked up, she quickly tilted the mask back toward Riku in surprise, and a light cloud of brownish dust escaped the mouthpiece right into Riku's face.

He immediately sneezed, a few coughs following, and he finished with, "...Pepper. They fill it with pepper. It's pretty easy for it to blow out if enough air passes through the valve..."

Mamori wasn't paying attention to Riku's explanation anymore, though - she blinked hard at the couple pieces of paper that had been picked up in a sharp whirlwind, the golden glow that had been instilled in them easily mistaken for the light coming from some of the still-powered-on stage lights illuminating another set. The small, bright seed of Bless magic summoned by Riku's sneeze had been incredibly fast, but its looping motion as it landed on the papers and unwittingly created a short and weak attack was unmistakable. Judging from Mamori's reaction, she'd also seen its cause, unfortunately, and was likely wondering if she really did see what she thought she saw.

Riku finally opened his eyes and looked over to the swirling papers as the force with which they spun dissipated, the only light passing through them truly becoming that of the stage lights. Thankfully, there hadn't been any crewmembers in its vicinity; Itsuki wasn't sure what he would have done if one of those papers had cut someone and done what they were enchanted to do.

Curious, Riku looked around the studio. "Weird. Is there a draft coming from the front door or something?"

Itsuki was at a loss for an answer; if he lied and said yes, then Mamori would know something was up for sure. He was a terrible liar under pressure. As much as he wanted to keep everyone else in the dark for as long as he could, that went double for these two - as of now, they were hardly the age everyone else had been when Medeus attacked, and all he wanted to give them was the uneventful high school career that he and the others never had at their age - at least until he absolutely couldn't continue without their help.

However, Mamori quickly blinked, clocked Riku's question and said, "Er - yeah, probably." The lack of hesitation with which she redirected surprised Itsuki. She flicked a quick yet meaningful glance at him as she added "Sorry about the pepper," as an afterthought. Itsuki knew what that look meant; he would definitely be having a talk with Mamori later, and whether he confirmed her suspicions or tried to pass it off as a quite literal trick of the light would be a decision he'd have to think about. Still, the fact that her first instinct was to keep Riku unaware was a blessing to him.

She quickly shook her head a little and looked closer at the mask, more gently this time, to serve as a distraction. "That's a novel idea, though. Tilting it a little further away from herself, Itsuki could indeed see a small one-way valve in the mouthpiece that Riku had mentioned earlier. There was an indentation for what was probably a breathing tube starting in the space for the nose and snaking along the side, since obviously it wouldn't work to have the actor constantly inhaling pepper; Itsuki knew the costume and special effects teams were good with making breathing tubes blend in with the features or accessories of a given monster, whether it be for the live showcases or for the set costumes. "So you blow through the valve and it lets out a cloud of pepper?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Riku took the mask and examined its face, a fond smile starting to cross his features. "Reminds me of when Touma fought to get me cast as an extra near the middle of the run even when my credits and references really weren't good enough to make it at the time. I don't want to make assumptions, but I kind of feel like it was him trying to get me out of my house as much as he could. That was about when things were starting to turn for the worst with my parents, and my mom only let me out of the house for school or work as a way to take control of something in her life. The adoption stuff wasn't finalized quite yet, so I couldn't just leave. Hikari-san eventually put me into one of the live showcases just to get Touma to shut up," he laughed. "I had to wear one of these. I don't even remember which showcase it was, but I know I tried my best to make a great impression on her, and clearly it worked, since she asked me back a year later for Daichi once my credits filled out a bit."

Mamori laughed, a polite hand held over her mouth. "That's Touma for you."

"Totally," Itsuki said. "Get him fixated on one goal and he'll die on that hill, no question."

Riku shut his eyes, nodding slowly. "It hurts, knowing just how right you are - especially since I'm the one who usually has to bring him back to reality." Looking back at the mask though, that fondness started to return. "In this case, though... I'm glad he went to bat for me. I'm sure he would have done it later once Daichi's role needed to be filled anyway, but still - it's nice that he did it so early."

Mamori leaned forward and plucked the mask from his hands, placing it back on the table. "I'll be sure to tell Touma how much you care, Riri-kun," she teased.

His scowl returned in full force as he looked away. "I mean... it isn't that big of a deal. And I thought I told you to stop calling me that!"

Her giggle piqued the interest of Touma as he, Yashiro and Mai walked back from the dressing rooms, all back in their street clothes. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing," Riku stressed, a little more forcefully than he really needed to. Obviously not convinced, Touma cast a questioning gaze toward Itsuki.

"It wasn't important," Itsuki said - both because it was true and because he felt Riku had been tortured enough for one evening. "Are we all ready to go?"

Once everyone answered in the affirmative, they all started to head for the front door to the studio, but Itsuki's mind was somewhere else entirely. All of the little indicators of what was to come just from today had piled up and a deep worry was brewing in the back of his mind. If events related to the coming calamity were already starting to bleed through into their world, then Itsuki didn't want to delay their trip to break out of Navarre's snowy tundra any further than he had to. He knew the others would probably worry if he scheduled his sword practice too soon after his episode, but the events of this morning quite honestly felt like eons ago, and he already felt ready to strike.

So, as the group around him animatedly buzzed and chattered amongst themselves as they walked the block or two down to Frost King, Itsuki opened his Topic.

-DIRECT IM: BARRY GOODMAN-

Itsuki Aoi: Hey Barry, I think I'd like to take you up on that offer about closing up the lesson studio for important work. How much time can you block out for the day after tomorrow?

Barry Goodman: Say no more, the whole day is yours!!

Itsuki Aoi: Um - something tells me we won't need the whole day...

Barry Goodman: Are you kidding me?! Getting a whole day off to play the new Dia Witch Online expansion is a dream come true, and I'm not about to waste it! You get the whole day or you get NOTHING!!

Itsuki Aoi: I- fine...

Barry Goodman: HELL YEAH!! IROHA, HERE I COME!!!

With a small chuckle, Itsuki pocketed his phone and walked with his friends into the evening, content to disconnect from the world for just a little bit before the real work begun.

Chapter Text

Parry. Watch for the undercut. Don’t fall for the sidestep to the left - block on the right side.

This was definitely the longest Itsuki had gone without being defeated, and he felt like he was finally starting to get the hang of remastering his old techniques left-handed. Of course, Navarre looked as if he was nowhere near finished, and Itsuki wouldn’t win unless he could manage to defeat him, but he was starting to find his footing.

That is, until he subconsciously defaulted back to his right-handed stance before his next swing. His “practice sword” - a glorified mop handle they’d sawed off to the right length for a sword - therefore completely missed Navarre, as his left arm was angled away and could no longer reach out properly. Because Itsuki was focused on figuring out why he’d missed, he failed to notice Navarre’s leg as it swept beneath Itsuki’s own. He fell to the hardwood floor, the pain shocking through him as he lost yet again.

“This is hard to watch,” Tsubasa said, helping Yashiro pick Itsuki up off the ground and onto the bench next to the door of the lesson studio.

“Trust me, it’s just as hard to do,” Itsuki sighed, setting the stick down and trying to stretch the pain away. Regardless of whether he got the hang of it or not, he would need to stop soon or risk a host of bruises developing from each loss. His bad shoulder was starting to stiffen up as well, also signaling the need to pace himself; even though a lot of the stress was taken off it when he started learning to fight left-handed, there were some things that were just impossible to do without the aid of his right, and everyone knew it would be unavoidable. He’d just have to be careful, and he was definitely trying to be.

Navarre twirled his own cut-down mop handle in his hand idly, pacing in the back of the studio. They’d asked him if he wanted some lighter clothes to spar in, but he’d opted to put the armor from his home world back on, claiming it was how he fought most comfortably. “This is nigh-impossible to rush in just two sessions, Aoi. It’s not something I would hold against you if we continued at a slower pace.”

“If the other day hadn’t happened the way it did, I might have taken you up on that,” Itsuki said, “but I told all of you what Mamori said. She thinks she heard Performa shining on the train during the flood - and that makes me worry that we don’t have much time to lose. For all we know, we might have needed to be way further than the mountains in Navarre’s world by now. I want to get this done so we can get there faster without you guys worrying about me in battle.”

“We’re always going to worry about you in battle,” Yashiro countered. “It’s human nature to worry about friends and loved ones in a dangerous encounter.”

Itsuki rolled his eyes. “Fine - I don’t want you guys to worry specifically about me not being able to defend myself well.”

Navarre’s pacing slowed as he absorbed their conversation. “I’m unsure if it’s entertaining to see how closely you all depend on one another, or strange because I’ve no frame of reference regarding whether people typically become this closely intertwined in my world.”

Tsubasa sat down on the bench next to Itsuki, looking over to Navarre. “Come on - you’ve gotta have some friends you’re worried about back home with all of this going on… right?”

He slowed to a stop, a thoughtful look in his eye. “I suppose I don’t have people to worry about in the fashion you all speak of,” he answered evenly, as if it was the easiest thing to admit in the world. “The cave you all discovered me in has been my home for a long while. Until Aoi crossed over, it’s quite likely that I hadn’t seen a single human soul in years.”

Tsubasa’s face fell. “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked.”

The slightest of smiles fell upon his features for a brief moment. “Don’t be; my isolation was by design. I’ve lost my purpose in life, for lack of a better explanation. To remain brief, I was looking for someone I used to know; after I was relieved of duty in each war, I would travel the continent in search of her. It was all for naught when I discovered she’d passed during the War of Heroes.” His jaw flexed, a minute display of emotion Itsuki couldn’t catch. “My ties in greater Archanea were frail and few as it was, so once I lost this aforementioned purpose, I cut them and holed myself up in that cave. Thus far, no one has come after me, so presumably I’m not incredibly prevalent in the minds of my former comrades-in-arms.”

“And why do you take that as a sign that they don’t care?” asked Yashiro. “Perhaps they’re looking for you at this very moment. Is the hiding spot you chose a place where they would think to look first?”

Navarre ruminated on the suggestion for a moment. “That’s a fair assessment. Only one of them might have a particularly sharp idea of where I’ve gone, and that’s only because she wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace day in and day out during the war efforts, and thus learned a lot more about me than I would have liked. However, I may have said some rather unkind things to get her to stop following me once I’d made up my mind on traveling up the mountain… somehow I doubt she would be looking very hard for me.”

“But that does mean there’s at least someone in your world who has cared for you before, enough to follow you anywhere,” Itsuki countered.

“Yes, people do attach themselves to me; I just don’t believe they should.” He paused. “I’m not the sort of person one should spend too much time with. Caeda was one such person who tried to engage with me in a manner of camaraderie - she was the catalyst of my involvement with Altea’s forces in the first place, as I couldn’t turn my sword on her when we stood on opposite sides of the battlefield. I have to admit, I'm in some part thankful for her intervention, as some of the cohorts I was travelling with for convenience at the times she found me turned out to be unsavory at best. Still, however, I don't think she should have shown me as much kindness as she did.”

“Then you do have someone to worry about in your world,” Tsubasa said. "I know you might call me biased because it's Caeda we're talking about, but you said yourself that that you're grateful to her, and knowing you, I don't think you'd admit that so easily if you didn't think of her as a friend."

“Nonsense - I don't worry for her safety in the slightest. Speaking from the perspective of someone who has fought both for and against her, Caeda is more than capable of handling herself.” He huffed softly, almost a chuckle as he grew slightly amused. “If I remember correctly, it was her current goal to convince her entourage of that same fact so she might be able to travel on her own once more, last I saw her.”

“That’s not the point,” Itsuki insisted. “Worrying about someone isn’t always about their physical ability to protect themselves. You obviously care about her wellbeing - even if it isn’t as likely to happen, you wouldn’t want to see her hurt or worse, right?”

He nodded curtly. “Of course not.”

“Then you do have someone worth worrying about,” Yashiro said, repeating Tsubasa’s statement. “Maybe not physically, but Caeda is still your friend and you don’t wish her harm. How deep that connection runs can vary, of course, but at times it can even make one think or act irrationally to ensure their friends and loved ones are safe.”

“Exactly,” Tsubasa added. “Like, I know Itsuki can probably fight just fine with his magic if we had to go out there right now, but I’d never forgive myself if I let him out there without a sword and someone got too close…” She worried at one of her nails, anxious at just the thought.

Itsuki grimaced. “That’s why I’m trying to relearn the sword as fast as I can. I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine at a further range, but I know it would make both of you worry too much to leave me defenseless physically. And besides, pain aside, it does feel good to swing a sword again.”

Navarre had given a slight pause at their remarks again, deep in thought. “Hm. I don’t think I can recall the last time I’ve felt the need to ensure one’s safety and protection - at least, not when it wasn’t related only to how catastrophic losing their prowess in battle would be. It feels… strange.”

A small sound of glass cracking could be suddenly heard as a small spark of something tried to alight over Navarre’s chest. It immediately flickered out, and for a moment Itsuki thought he might have hit his head too hard on the floor in one of their previous matches, but the others were also startled; they’d seen it too.

“What in the world…?” Navarre pressed a hand where the flash had been, as if trying to physically grab it.

Tsubasa’s eyes were wide as she slowly processed what had happened. “That almost felt like…”

Her hand lightly grazed over her own chest in the same spot, and Itsuki suddenly understood what she was getting at - but it hardly made sense, and his brow knit in confusion.

As if reading his mind, Yashiro said, “Why would Performa be attempting to spark in Navarre if we aren’t doing anything related to the performing arts?”

“...I’m not sure,” Itsuki replied.

“Could you all refresh me on how exactly this Performa worked for you?” Navarre asked, the prospect of Itsuki’s training seemingly forgotten for now. “For us at the time, it was simply our mode of sustenance, but was it ever anything more for you all as our Masters?”

Itsuki rested his head on his hand, trying to think back to the days when Performa had been a more physical aspect of their lives. “Well… it was a physical representation of our abilities in the performing arts,” he started. “Or, at least, that’s what we thought. We didn’t have much information to go off of that suggested otherwise, as far as I know.”

“I’m aware that I joined Fortuna Entertainment pretty late into the battle; was there ever someone doing research on Performa before my involvement as an ally?” Yashiro asked. “I’m fairly certain someone would have mentioned such a thing if they were in the picture by the time I arrived…”

“Itsuki and I were still kind of new ourselves,” Tsubasa replied. “We’d only been a part of Fortuna for about eight months by the time you joined. I dunno about Itsuki, but I don’t remember anyone talking about someone researching Performa.”

She looked at Itsuki inquisitively, but he shook his head. “Neither did I. I could ask Maiko, but something tells me there wasn’t really much thought put into it to begin with.” He shrugged. “We were more focused on keeping the attacks in check before the worst happened, I suppose.”

“There must be some part of how Performa works that we don’t quite understand, in that case,” Yashiro said. “If no research was performed, it would make sense that we directly correlate its use to the performing arts, as that’s where it shone the strongest… but what if that isn’t what its use is limited to?”

Itsuki couldn’t deny the possibility; he’d always wondered why his Performa was among the strongest of the group if he’d had very little inclination toward the performing arts in the first place. He simply went along with the training as a teenager since that was what seemed to foster the growth of Performa the fastest. He knew from the start that he would never strive for a career or livelihood in the performing arts - not that it was a bad thing to do, of course; it just… wasn’t for him. He was much more comfortable behind the president’s desk than anything, so the idea that his Performa had been stronger than a majority of his coworkers, who were all savants in the performing arts, had always made him feel slightly unworthy of the position.

Now, to hear that Performa might not be exclusively related to the performing arts… it made a world of sense, and Itsuki was surprised he hadn’t thought of the possibility until now.

“Is there anyone you know who might have looked into the application of Performa in any shape or form by coincidence?” Navarre suggested.

He was met with silence as no one seemed to have an answer. Itsuki was also stumped; he doubted there was someone who just happened to be researching Performa somewhere out there…

…But maybe the research of that ‘cognitive psience’ Dr. Takemi had been talking about was a close adjacent? They were both related to secondary worlds and almost supernatural abilities, and both pertained to matters of the human soul in a way. Takemi had mentioned others before her who had done extensive studies on cognitive psience, so maybe Itsuki could get in touch with these researchers and see if any of their findings correlated with the concept of Performa?

“...I might know someone who researched something similar,” Itsuki hesitantly started. “It might be a dead end, but it’s worth a try. I’ll try to get in touch with her soon.”

Tsubasa sighed. “It’s better than nothing.”

Yashiro nodded. “Agreed. Until then, however, we’ll have to hope that whatever sparked Performa in Navarre can be replicated at another time; if I remember correctly from your account, he needs to possess a steady source of Performa for whatever our mystery Mirage has planned.” He looked at Itsuki, a note of concern in his eyes. “Did you want to get one last spar in before your shoulder needs a rest?”

Snapping himself back into reality, Itsuki stretched a little, testing the limits of what energy he had left. Yashiro was right - the longer he sat immobile, the closer his bad shoulder was getting to being too stiff to fight, and just because of that, this would likely be his last round for the day. Otherwise, though, only a few assorted aches and pains echoed back at him, and he slowly stood, rolling out his joints and picking the mop handle back up. “One more,” he repeated, stepping closer to Navarre.

Navarre nodded and raised his own mop handle in response, at the ready as he looked over Itsuki’s formation for any errors. “Widen your stance,” he reminded, pointing to Itsuki’s feet, and as Itsuki did so, Navarre gave one final nod.

Then, with the first swing, the battle began anew.

Chapter Text

"This is a terrible idea."

Itsuki sighed as he continued trying to straighten out the organized chaos that had started to bloom on his desk during his absence; this task had been a multiple-day project at this point, as he expected once he knew Maiko was standing in for him while he’d been recovering. He knew 'Maiko' and 'organization' didn't really belong in the same sentence, usually, and as much as they all loved her for it, he needed to fix it so he could actually find everything he needed. "Unfortunately, unless we want to brute force our way through, it's the only one we have," he replied. "I don't know about you or the others, but something doesn't sit right with me about purposefully seeking out those barbarians to strike them down."

Yashiro nodded, leaning against Itsuki's desk and staring out the window as the sun rose further into the sky. "Of course - they aren't exactly Mirages, after all. I'm sure no one wants to cause them any undue harm. I just worry about how much time it'll take to get through without being seen, and whether we'll get lost in the blizzard; you know you can't stay in those freezing temperatures for too long."

"I do," Itsuki said, gently rolling his bad shoulder in slow circles to test the day's range of motion. "I know it's a risk, especially since we'll be at a disadvantage if we're ambushed, but it's our best shot."

"That doesn't make me any less worried." 

A light smile played across Itsuki's features. "I'd be surprised if it did. We could go in circles for hours listing reasons why the other shouldn't be going, after all - we just know it isn't going to change anything."

Yashiro glanced down at him, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "So you admit your stubbornness, then?"

Itsuki laughed. "You're probably the biggest hypocrite I've ever met." Turning toward Yashiro, his gaze was drawn to the sheathed katana in his fiancé's hands; the white grip was very well-polished with a golden lightning pattern adorning the side. The scabbard was very ornately decorated, pink cherry blossoms weaving their way throughout the deep red background. Also taking in the katana he'd received from a contact of Akira's laid across the desk behind where he stood, he asked, "Is that the one from your dad's estate?"

Yashiro nodded, inspecting its craftsmanship idly. "I wanted to retrieve it from your old home so it wouldn't be there if it somehow was tracked when it was stolen. I find it doubtful, but my father can be full of surprises at times. I figure somewhere in the Bloom Palace might be the safest place for it at this time."

"Why not use it?"

He attempted to pull the sword from its scabbard, only for it to get caught after less than a second of movement. The minute section of the blade Itsuki could see looked worse for wear in comparison to the scabbard and grip - its edge looked like it might have once been a different color than the rest of the blade, but both sides were currently rife with water damage and even the beginnings of rust as it disappeared into the scabbard.

"Presumably, it's rusted shut," Yashiro explained. "It's to be expected... no one in my family has actually used it in many centuries. It's merely been a pretty centerpiece handed down through the generations, polished and painted on the outside while the blade is left to suffer." He gently ran a hand along the cherry blossom designs which, upon closer inspection, didn't look nearly as old as the actual scabbard, suggesting they had indeed been painted on for vanity by one of Yashiro's more recent predecessors. "It's unfortunate, but I didn’t necessarily take it to use it, however much of a bonus that may have been."

Itsuki tried his best to peer into the scabbard to see if there might have been something blocking the blade's exit, but it was hard to see in the low light - they hadn't turned on the office lights as they knew they wouldn't be staying long. "Is there anything that can be done to fix that?"

"Perhaps, but it depends on how extensive the damage is. I might consult Navarre about it later." He pushed it all the way back into the sheath and glanced at the katana on the desk. "Besides, why waste such a great-quality weapon already given to me when I haven't even had the chance to use it yet?"

"I just hope that chance doesn't come today," Itsuki sighed. "I don't think any of us are going to be in great place if we have to fight living people along the way."

The doors at the front of the office slid open, and in came Tsubasa with Navarre in tow. She was already wearing her winter gear, and she looked like she was very much regretting that decision in the growing early-August heat. Navarre had his original gear on, sword strapped to his side and his blade maintenance tools in hand to leave in the Bloom Palace. He didn't look as bothered by the heat as Tsubasa did, at least.

"You know, it almost feels wrong on a base level to see you awake this early when I would spend every day getting you to wake up in time for school growing up," Itsuki joked as he stood to meet her.

"It feels wrong to you? Imagine how I feel," she groaned, still trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

"Did Kiria wake up?" Itsuki asked.

"Yeah - I just told her I had to go in to refilm a scene for Maho because they lost the footage in editing. She either believed it or was too tired to question me," she chuckled. "She's really cute when she's sleepy."

"Did you receive a suitable weapon?" Yashiro asked.

"Sort of." Much to their surprise, Tsubasa fished a whip out of her pocket, wrapped around its own handle haphazardly. "This apparently belonged to that model girl you were telling us about, Itsuki. Her wife met me at the train station and gave it to me - I didn't want to ask and be wrong, but she kind of looked like a famous volleyball player I saw on TV the other day." Briefly shaking her head to remind herself to stay on topic, she refocused her gaze on the whip as she turned it over in her hands. "The airsoft shop doesn't stock lances, so I was given a few options to choose from; I still kind of want some distance when I attack, so I chose the whip. Maybe I can get some extra mileage out of it with some wind, or something."

"As long as you're comfortable with it, it works in the meantime," Itsuki said.

"Once we manage to leave the mountains, I'm sure we could equip you with a fine lance at an armorer, if you'd like," Navarre interjected.

Tsubasa shrugged. "We'll see. I want to see how the whip works out first."

"Then, shall we?" Yashiro gestured toward the Bloom Palace door.

Itsuki nodded. "You guys can go ahead and drop whatever you need to in the Bloom Palace - I still need to make sure everything's set up for us being gone today."

"Noted. We'll wait for you there," Yashiro replied as he gathered both katanas and his winter gear from around Itsuki's desk, following Tsubasa and Navarre as they passed through the door and vanished.

Itsuki darted back to his desk and made sure everyone's individual schedules for the day were in the right places, labeled for each of his friends; Yashiro and Tsubasa's were missing for obvious reasons, but Itsuki hoped the others would just assume they'd already taken them and left for whatever they might have been working on today. Finally, he snatched a blank piece of paper and wrote a note to place on the outside of the door, for the others and for any outsider who might have sought him out for an impromptu meeting today: 

I'm out of the office today; schedules are on my desk. If you're looking to meet with me, please try again later. Thanks,
-Itsuki Aoi

He approached the front door so he could place it on the outside, but when they slid open before he could reach them, he paused. Mamori was standing on the other side, worry on her face, and she didn't seem very surprised to see Itsuki there. She was already in her school uniform, the beige blazer and yellow skirt a little wrinkled like she might have slept in them. Her braid was slightly disheveled like she hadn't had a chance to redo it for the day just yet.

"Good, I thought I saw you walking into the building," she said to herself as she walked inside. "I really need to talk to you, Itsuki."

He reached around her and put the note on the door before it closed, then nodded. "I think I have an idea of why, but I don't really have a lot of time to talk right now. I'm about to leave for the day."

"Don't worry, I don't need a lot of time," she reassured. "I just... well, you saw what happened when Riku sneezed the other day. I had to try for myself once I was alone and had time, and I ended up freezing my glass of water when I picked it up." She wrung her hands together in worry. "Something has to be wrong if our powers are back."

Itsuki sighed. "I know... we're trying to investigate what's going on right now."

Mamori narrowed her eyes. "We? Were Riku and I the only ones who didn't know about this?"

"No - it's just me, Tsubasa and Yashiro right now. We want to figure out exactly what's going on before we bring everyone else into the loop, if we can. Everyone's so busy right now, including you, and we don't want to bring more stress into that equation right now. Besides, from what we've already gathered, this is going to be quite a bit more dangerous than the last time, so I want to keep everyone safe for as long as I can. No one's exactly recovered from Medeus, after all, physically or mentally."

Unamused, she deadpanned, "So, you tried to shoulder it on your own and Yashiro and Tsubasa just about killed you for almost killing yourself under the strain?" Only after she finished speaking did she seem to realize how blunt she was, eyes widening.

Itsuki chuckled, embarrassed. "Not pulling any punches this morning, I see."

She wrapped her braid around her fingers absently, looking away. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh... I've been having so many conversations in public where I need to keep such a sharp eye on what I say that I feel like I'm forgetting how to have conversations normally."

Itsuki's brow creased in worry as he took in her tired gaze, finally feeling the need to speak up. "Mamori... is everything alright? You don’t seem quite like yourself."

"Myself?" She chuckled, but there was an underlying tone to it that Itsuki couldn't quite decipher, and her smile didn’t quite seem to reach her eyes. "I appreciate the worry, but I'm alright. Besides - we apparently have bigger fish to fry right now."

He paused. "We?"

That smile fell a little. "You didn't really expect for me to figure out we might be on the verge of another battle and then walk away like nothing happened, right?"

Itsuki crossed his arms, sighing. "Well - no, but..."

"But nothing. I'm not going to bury my head in the sand and pretend nothing's wrong, Itsuki."

"You and Riku were at the top of my list when it came to protecting the others from this for as long as I could. You're both so busy right now, and I know this isn't an excuse, but we wanted the both of you to have as much of the normal high school life that we never had as possible. Or, well - as much of a normal high school life as you could have as celebrities," he chuckled.

Mamori's expression softened a little. "Look... I appreciate the gesture, but I'm really tired of being treated like I'm still eleven. I wasn't fragile then, and I'm not fragile now. Whenever Riku finds out, what he does with the information is his choice, but I know I want to help. I'll even try to cover for the three of you whenever the others ask, if that's what gets you to say yes."

"I never said you couldn't help at all," Itsuki clarified. "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't come charging in with us right this second. As soon as we need another pair of hands to help, you'll be the first to know, I promise. Right now, though, you have school in a few hours, and I think you have a meeting with the studio team this afternoon to brainstorm some more for your single, so while I appreciate your willingness to keep this a secret, I have to ask you to stay here for now."

Her expression flickered at that, and Itsuki could have sworn it resembled a wince for a moment. "Right, that's today. Honestly, I've completely lost track of time; it's all starting to blur together." She yawned, then continued. "I guess I can accept that for now, though, as long as I get a chance to help directly at some point. I know you need to figure this out, so I don’t want to keep you any longer."

Itsuki's eyes narrowed in suspicion, the dots starting to connect in his head as her exhaustion continued to show itself. "Wait - if you saw me coming into the office, then you must have been in the practice studio at the other end of the hall. It's already really early... how long have you been here?"

Her eyes suddenly widened a little, and she laughed nervously, backing up toward the door as it slid open. "This has been a good talk, Itsuki, but I should get some more work in before school. I'll try my best to cover for you guys while you're gone - bye!"

The door shut before he could answer her, and he frowned; as he started for the door so he could follow her, though, he heard the sound of the Bloom Palace door behind him, and Tsubasa asked, "Hey, are you coming?"

He froze, then hesitantly nodded - they couldn’t afford to waste any more time. "Yeah... we should go before anyone shows up."

Chapter Text

The shocking difference between the bitter cold of the blizzard and the strong warmth of the heat packs shoved into the bad shoulder of his jacket left Itsuki feeling like he couldn't decide whether he was warm or cold. He didn't really think they would buy him any more time before his shoulder stiffened up, but Yashiro had insisted and they weren't seeming to limit his arm movement any more than it already was, so he'd gone along with it for Yashiro's peace of mind; and as they continued to walk, it did feel a little nice to have the small section of warmth as it started to feel like every single snowflake in the dense cloud was gravitating toward him, sticking to him.

Thus far, they hadn't had any huge problems as they walked through the tundra, hoping the shadows of barbarians wouldn't appear in the flurry, but Itsuki was on high alert as he scanned as far as he could see - which, admittedly, wasn't very far. He was almost overaware of the rapier hooked on his belt loop, conscious of its weight and hoping he wouldn't have to use it so soon.

Yashiro walked right next to him on his right, hands clasped together as they walked like they were both afraid they would lose the other in the snow if they let go. Itsuki couldn't catch his gaze very often, but when he did, he could see a note of the same nerves reflected within. Tsubasa, on Yashiro's other side, was a little difficult for Itsuki to clearly see due to the thickness of the storm, but he could tell she had unwrapped a short length of the whip she'd been given and was wrapping it around her fingers nervously. She'd taken off her glasses a short time ago, since her breath was condensing on the lenses and she didn't need to see very far in a thick blizzard anyway, and at some point she'd procured a hairtie from her pocket and pulled her hair back so the winds would stop whipping it in her face. Navarre walked just in front of them all, far enough forward to provide a little space but not so far they couldn't see him. He was the only one who had any sort of idea how to navigate out of the mountains, so they couldn't afford to lose his trail - especially now that the cave he'd once called home was a distant memory, and Itsuki doubted the three of them could find it again on their own with so little visibility.

"So, Navarre?" Tsubasa quietly asked, conscious of speaking too loud in case their unwanted guests were somewhere just out of sight. "Once we get past the mountains, what's our plan?"

He only looked back for a brief moment. "Why are you asking me? Aoi was the one told to make contact with myself and all of your other former Mirages; I think we know what our plan will be."

"Well, yeah," Tsubasa said, "but this is your world, not ours. You're the only one who knows where to go - who do you think would be easiest to find first?"

He remained silent for a few moments, perhaps pondering the question himself, then said, "Caeda and Cain should be in the same location, so I suppose we'll start there. We'll exit the Samsooth Mountains into Aurelis, then start the path toward Altea. Draug is likely in Grust, but he will surely answer a summons from Caeda once we bring her and Cain up to speed, for the sake of preventing a continent-wide footmarch or a terribly time-consuming boat journey for us." He looked back at the three of us. "Am I correct in assuming that this time, Abel's young master will be joining us as well?"

"At some point, yes," Itsuki confirmed. "There's no keeping this from him forever."

Navarre's expression grew ruminative as he looked forward again. "Hmm. In that case, locating Abel will be the more difficult task in this endeavor... he traveled frequently last I saw him, and I've been up here for quite some time. Perhaps one of the others might have more up-to-date information on his whereabouts - for all I know, he could have found who he was looking for and settled down in the time I've been gone." He fell silent for a moment, and Itsuki knew he must be thinking about the person he had been looking for before retreating into the mountains, but if the thought weighed Navarre down, he didn't show it.

"Assuming we can return to your world through any body of water nearest to us, it will be quite the perk for us to be able to sleep in your advanced lodgings whenever we must retire," Navarre continued. "This will likely be a multiple-week journey, as not only do you all have lives you must attend to in your world, but something tells me neither of you know how to ride." He cast glances back at Itsuki and Tsubasa as he finished, showing that he was directing the last sentence at them.

"Ride?" Tsubasa asked.

"He means riding on horseback," Yashiro explained. "He knows I used to have riding experience since he lived in my mind for five years; my father made me train in my youth so it could be on my resume, since renaissance romance dramas were dominating the film industry at the time and he thought they still might be by the time I would be of age to star in one. I'm rusty, surely, but likely not incapable if we had to ride."

"I see," Itsuki said. "You're right - I've never ridden a horse before."

"I have!" Tsubasa interjected, face lighting up - though, she quickly shrunk down when she realized how loud she'd exclaimed it. "Er, only once, though. I flew a pegasus down from the 106 when Aversa was... taking Aya down to Central Street." As she trailed off and her expression fell slightly, Itsuki felt for her - 5 years later and Tsubasa still had trouble talking about Ayaha.

Knowing that addressing it would only make it worse, though, Itsuki just said, "I hope we'll be able to get back through any body of water like you said. We still have work - we can't just disappear for days on end. We'll have to stagger this trip on days when everyone is free."

"Unless the entrance into this world is governed by where the party is at the given moment," Yashiro said. "Itsuki could have been ejected anywhere on this continent the first time he came here, but he emerged in Navarre's cave, of all places. Perhaps if one of us continues on while the others leave, we'll be brought closest to where the person in this world is when we return."

"I'm not sure. It's something we can test once we get out of here." Itsuki scanned the surroundings again, still a blinding flurry of white as they continued on. "For now, though, we should stop talking - one of the Soothsires could be near at any moment."

Navarre nodded, and the walk continued in silence.

As they journeyed through the seemingly endless tundra, the bone-chilling cold grew leagues deeper, at least to Itsuki. Thanks to his thick jacket, the heat packs on his shoulder still had a little bit of benefit, but they were nearly cooled, and Itsuki was beginning to shiver as he wiped away the snow trying to cover his eyes.

When Yashiro looked over, he called out, "Wait - stop," to the others, and moved in front of Itsuki to stop him. "Are you alright?"

Itsuki quickly nodded, still trying to wipe the snow from his face. "F-Fine. We need to keep going."

Tsubasa reached up and gently swiped her hand across his cheek, and her brow knit in concern as it came back with a handful of half-melted sleet. "That's weird. The snow's sticking to you like a magnet..."

Itsuki reached up shakily and swiped more sleet from his forehead. "It's not s-sticking to you guys like this...?"

Yashiro and Tsubasa both shook their heads, and Itsuki could see stray flakes sticking in their hair, but nothing to the the degree that he was facing.

Navarre, stoic as always, only showed a hint of confusion. "I've never seen something like this before."

"C-Can you guys help me get it off?" Itsuki asked, already trying to swipe it from his jacket.

Without further discussion, the three of them helped to pull away the sleet that seemed to be clinging to Itsuki's face and clothes, but when it continued to cling toward him and form layers faster than they could clear it away, Itsuki shook his head. "It's not worth staying here for," he said, waving the others away. "I'll just... k-keep an eye on it. We can't afford to turn back."

Yashiro seemed more than ready to protest, but he paused as he realized that they did indeed have no way to go other than forward. They didn't know how long it had been since they'd left the cave, and they had no idea when they would next come across a body of water.

Looking away, gaze still filled with concern, he asked, "Your shoulder?"

"It's fine," Itsuki reassured, circling it a little as proof. There was a little extra resistance, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the cold or because the heat packs were making the sleeve slightly bulkier. "Let's keep going."

Everyone hesitated for another moment, but when Yashiro begrudgingly nodded, they continued forward - this time with Tsubasa on Itsuki's left and Yashiro remaining on his right in hopes they could protect him from the snow,  at least a little. Every once in a while Itsuki would have to scoop the accumulating snow from his face or clothes, but they didn't encounter a huge problem until the blizzard began to grow even thicker, causing the whole group to slow as the winds started whipping strongly enough to push them back.

"W-What's going on?!" Tsubasa yelled, quiet caution thrown to the wind as they could barely hear one another as it was.

"I'm not sure!" Navarre called back. "The snow's never been this thick up here!"

"Are we even still headed in the right direction?!"

"Yes!" A pause. "I'm... fairly certain..."

"There's nothing more we can do - we have to carry on!" Yashiro interjected. "Stay close, everyone!"

Itsuki nodded, pushing against the storm as it tried its hardest to suffocate him in snow. The heat packs had run cold, and Itsuki knew if they were stuck here for much longer, his shoulder would start to become a problem.

The snow rendered him practically blind, enough that he nearly didn't notice the broad shadow encroaching on them from the left, axe drawn and just barely visible as it slowly approached Tsubasa; if it weren't for the hair-raising uneasiness that had come with the barbarian's arrival, Itsuki might not have noticed him at all.

The snow now the furthest thing from his mind, he turned to the shadow and drew his sword, calling, "Tsubasa, to your left!"

When she turned and saw the shadow, she wasted no time in fully unraveling the whip and experimentally cracking it in the shadow's direction. The whip's edge glowed green as it sent a large wave of wind magic cutting through the blizzard, briefly making the barbarian visible as it struck him.

Her eyebrows raised as she reappraised the whip in excitable wonder. "Whoa...!"

"There's no time to marvel - we need to keep moving!" Yashiro called, trying his best to move faster through the flurry. "If we stay here, he'll know where we are!"

"Right!" Tsubasa joined him before he could disappear as she pulled in the whip, and Itsuki quickly followed suit, sword still drawn out of precaution.

"Stay on guard!" Navarre called back. "I'm not sure when they grew so adept at stealth, but it could mean the end of us if we aren't careful!"

"Yashiro, you started working with ice before the Idolaspheres collapsed, right?" Tsubasa asked, an arm in front of her face as a practically useless shield from the freezing wind. "Is there any way you could divert the snow around us, or something?!"

"I could barely control my Freezing Strikes - I knew enough to use them in Idolasphere battles, but you know I'm no spellcaster!" He called back.

"Try it anyway - we can hardly stay upright in the wind!"

Yashiro sighed, then Itsuki watched as his brow knit in concentration, outstretching his arm. For a few moments, nothing happened, but then it started to feel like the blizzard was just barely moving around them, rather than at them.

It didn't take long for that feeling to disappear, though, as Yashiro gave up under the strain. "It's possible, but not sustainable. I'll exhaust myself before we get very far."

"That's alright - I'm glad you tried, at least," Itsuki replied. He knew it would be ridiculous to ask that of Yashiro for the whole trip, but he had to admit that he already missed the brief absence of snow pelting him from every angle; maybe he should have brought Mamori along, after all.

Before he could think too hard about mentioning her knowledge of the situation to the others, though, that same uneasy alertness from the first barbarian's appearance coursed through his veins, and a hulking shadow started to show itself right next to Yashiro, poised to strike.

"No!!" He called as he nudged Yashiro out of the way, raising his free arm to sent a bolt of electricity toward the second barbarian. He dropped his axe in reaction to the shock, and Itsuki charged forward, striking him in the head with the hilt of his sword to stun him. When he stumbled back into the blizzard with a cry of anger, Itsuki grabbed Yashiro's hand and pulled him from where he'd landed in the snow, still a little stunned that he'd almost been blindsided. Itsuki started to drag him into a run, ignoring his shoulder's sudden complaint and yelling "Go!" to the others.

As Tsubasa and Navarre also started to run, Tsubasa yelled, "Great catch!"

"Agreed," Yashiro said, shaking out of his bewilderment and starting to run on his own. "How are you spotting them so fast? I couldn't even see that one, and he was well within striking distance..."

Itsuki tried to find the words for the strange feeling he had gotten when both barbarians drew near, but none would come to him.

As they all heard an enraged yell belonging to a different voice in the distance behind them, though, he knew this was no time to be dwelling on it. "Later - we have bigger fish to fry!"

Somehow, the winds grew that much colder and harsher, and it was all Itsuki could do to keep the snow out of his eyes and nose. The pressure the wind was putting on his body was starting to prove painful, and he could tell the others weren't faring much better. The order of who was pulling who along reversed as Yashiro started to move faster, not having to worry about snow sticking to him and starting to help Itsuki along when said snow was beginning to bog him down. However, as their path remained clear of enemies, Itsuki dared to think that they might be in the clear.

He registered the increasingly familiar alertness too late as his legs were swept out from under him, landing hard in the snow as his hand was wrenched from Yashiro's grasp.

"Itsuki!!"

Itsuki raised his head from the snow, trying to get up as fast as he could, but he could no longer see the rest of the group, and Yashiro's call suddenly sounded so far away.

Before he could make another move, an impossibly cold mass grabbed hold of his leg and dragged him backward, flipping him around as he was pinned, and it was only when the third barbarian filled his vision that Itsuki realized it was him who had grabbed him - his skin felt cold as ice, colder even than Kiria and Mamori's resting temperatures when they had their magic, and despite his clear lack of appropriate clothes for the weather, he seemed unbothered by the temperatures, even as snowflakes caught in his unkempt beard and the green cloth of the bandana around his head was nearly frozen solid.

Barely able to snag his sword from where it had fallen, he raised it up just as the barbarian's axe swung down, aimed right at the center of his head. The blow's momentum was stopped mere centimeters from his nose, and his arms shook with the exertion of holding the axe back as the barbarian grit his teeth and increased his pressure.

Ignoring the angry burn flaring up in his bad shoulder, Itsuki pushed back. The blade of the axe slowly rose away from the immediate peril of cleaving him in half, centimeter by centimeter.

That is, until the barbarian growled and his eyes almost seemed to glow brighter, dark purple veins encroaching on the whites of his eyes, and his strength almost seemed to increase tenfold.

As the axe began to lower again and as Itsuki's arms shook more, he knew there would be no winning this battle with strength alone, and hoping against hope that this skill still worked somewhat like it used to, he let out a desperate cry.

The air almost crackled and the scent of ozone filled Itsuki's nose as the Back Chorus dispersed quickly, both through the metal of the axe and directly into the barbarian's face. His hold on Itsuki slackened as he reeled back from the shock, and as Itsuki slipped out, fight-or-flight adrenaline coursing through his veins, he thrust his free hand out to shock the barbarian again.

This time, though, the frantic and unaimed bolt of lightning first struck the blade of his rapier, and while the electric shock couldn't harm him past a warm tingle in the hand that held the sword, the thin blade concentrated and conducted the electricity much more than he'd intended, and when the strengthened bolt of electricity shot directly into the barbarian's chest, the impact was notably more violent. His body shook with the voltage, and when the electricity stopped, he fell to the ground, unmoving.

For a few moments, Itsuki couldn't move, almost unable to process what had just happened, but when his mind caught up with his body, he quickly ran toward the barbarian to check his pulse.

Sure, the man had been acting odd. Sure, he'd been trying to kill Itsuki first. It was easily self-defense, life or death.

But Itsuki couldn't possibly have killed him... right?

As he tentatively reached toward the man, checking for a pulse, Itsuki noted that while his body temperature was still unhealthily freezing, he almost felt a little warmer than he had just a moment ago. He couldn't tell if he was imagining it or not, but he almost felt like the barbarian's skin had brightened by a tone or two, almost gaining a breath of life that he hadn't had before. He and his two cohorts almost took on a sickly or even deathly sort of pallor the first time they'd encountered one another.

Finally, after an uncomfortably long time without one, a single weak heartbeat made itself known, and Itsuki breathed a gentle sigh of relief. Almost as if the man's body had also been waiting for that heartbeat, he began to shiver, now taking in the weather's effects, and strangely enough, he started coughing, water spouting out of his mouth as if he'd been drowning.

When he blearily opened his eyes, they were no longer glowing nor were there any dark purple veins; to the contrary, there was a sort of personality and life in them that he hadn't had just moments ago. Reasonably enough, he startled when he spotted Itsuki, trying to crawl away but finding it difficult when he was so affected by the cold.

"Wh-Who're you?!" He demanded, looking around frantically. "Where am I, and where's the rest of the crew?!"

Itsuki found himself at a loss for words. It was almost as if the man was a completely different person, and it was clear he'd forgotten that he was seconds away from being Itsuki's cause of death.

"S-So fuckin' cold..." he muttered to himself, his shivers growing stronger. His eyes sharpened as he held Itsuki's gaze, growing more frustrated the longer Itsuki stayed silent. "Say something, dammit!!" He yelled menacingly. "If yer with those Altean brats, I swear on the Ghoul's Teeth-"

Suddenly he cut himself off with a grunt of pain, hand shooting to his side, and Itsuki watched in incredulous horror as a long and deep gash seemed to appear on its own, opening on his side and beginning to bleed. Even though Itsuki could feel that the temperature wasn't nearly cold enough for it, as he started bleeding out the blood almost instantly froze, creating deep red icicles along his side that had to be painful. Other smaller gashes, burns and bruises started forming all along his body, and Itsuki almost wanted to help him even though he didn't have the slightest idea how.

Almost as if flies to honey, the thick snow around them stopped gravitating toward Itsuki and shot toward the man incredibly fast, trying to force its way into his nose, eyes, mouth, ears, and any of the open wounds that had appeared. He cried out, but not for long, and though he tried to fight, he eventually stopped moving. When the snow stopped attempting to suffocate him, his wounds started closing up and disappearing just as fast and strangely as they'd appeared, but it was clear he was not breathing. His skin paled once more, and when Itsuki dared to reach out and tap his arm, he'd grown just as unnaturally cold as he had been when the barbarian had first trapped him.

Itsuki felt as if his body was made of lead, unable to move before he processed whatever the hell had just happened. He likely could have sat there forever, shocked under the horrifying mystery of what had killed the man until either someone from the rest of the group found him or he froze away in the snow.

It was the twitch of the man's fingers that had Itsuki scrambling to his feet - especially since he was definitely sure the man still wasn't breathing. The man growled in fury, and when one eye opened, it was once again being overtaken by purple veins.

Itsuki didn't stick around long enough for the possessed barbarian to make a move for his weapon; he turned and ran as fast as his freezing legs could carry him, in the direction that the others had disappeared to. He was very concerned for their wellbeing, considering they hadn't turned back to get him but they knew he was missing. That wasn't like Tsubasa or Yashiro at all, and it scared him.

As he ran, the pressure of the winds grew stronger and stronger, to the point that he almost felt like he was running sideways just to keep from being blown away. It was beginning to feel like the pressure of diving deep underwater, especially as the snow gravitating toward him and melting on his face, neck and clothes served to make him feel chilled to the bone and soaking wet.

Just as he felt like the pressure could grow no more, though, just as the ache of the wind was strong enough for him to yell out as he used all his strength to charge through... all the chaos paused, and the storm fell silent.