Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In retrospect, Mika had no idea why he'd thought he should wait at the airport instead of at home.

Well, no, that wasn't true. He'd leaped out of bed at sunrise, raced around the apartment a few times, scrambled to clean up the microscopic speck of dust that'd dirtied the counter, then hurried off to his idol work. It had kept him blessedly distracted for most of the day, but once he'd gotten home, Mika had thrown himself through the shower and taken the next train out to the airport.

It was the most coherent he'd been for almost a week. Without the haze of delirious excitement, Mika knew exactly why he was here: he had to see it. He had to be here when the plane landed, or else he'd start to believe that he was still asleep, still dreaming. That their promise wasn't real.

Mika sucked in a shaky breath and bounced on his heels a few more times. It did nothing to ease the excitement seizing his body.

A week ago, he'd been in France, enjoying the final day of a weekend trip. Usually, Mika would've mourned such a short visit after two months apart. This time, his melancholy had been completely and utterly eclipsed when, as they sat in the pavilion overlooking Lac de Créteil, Shu had gently touched his wrist.

“Mika. Do you remember your last visit?”

Mika had frowned. “Sure,” he'd replied, confused. Of course he remembered that trip; it'd been the first time he'd sung with Shu in years.

“Did you... truly mean what you said then?”

A thrill of the same jittery hope Mika had felt then, amplified by Shu's soft voice and the privacy of nighttime by the lake, raced up his spine. He hopped in place and only felt a touch of embarrassment when a few passers-by shot him bemused looks. What did they matter? The nearest digital clock read 19:53 P.M., and-

Mika's phone vibrated.

He nearly leaped out of his skin (this time, he did flush at the curious looks thrown his way) and hurriedly fumbled his phone from his pocket, praying to whatever god might be listening that this was the text he'd been praying for.

New message from Shu.

Oh, gods, please. With trembling fingers, Mika tapped on the notification.

Shu: I'm disembarking now. My luggage is at Terminal 12, so I'll meet you there.

Mika's body lurched into action before his brain even registered the words. Suddenly, he was flying through the airport, frantically scanning the overhead signs and directionals. Terminal 33... 32...

Gods, he couldn't believe this was happening. Mika almost wanted to pinch himself, but that would require slowing down, and there was no chance in hell he'd do that now. He was so close. So close to that secret, selfish desire he'd buried in his heart for three long years.

Terminal 27. 26.

Mika had thought their infrequent visits would've taught him patience, but the past week had been unbearable. Each day had dragged on and zipped past, giving him no time to breathe and too much time. Mika hadn't lived with anyone in years, not since he'd moved out of the Seisoukan Dorm. Back then, he'd always felt stifled and antsy, even though it was only Ritsu.

Funny how things changed.

14. 13.

He'd wanted it so badly but never dared to hope. And now...

Mika's phone buzzed again, but he didn't even try to slow down; his heart was punching through his chest. He all but skidded around the final corner and gasped in a breath. Belatedly, Mika realized he should've walked instead of sprinted so he'd look mildly presentable. But that didn't matter; he was in perfect shape and needed to make sure this wasn't a dream.

The crowd parted, and Mika's frantic heartbeat slowed to nothing. He was floating, barely connected to his body, the air punched from his lungs.

There, next to the luggage carousel, stood Shu Itsuki. He was painfully out of place in the evening airport traffic, like a model plucked off their runway yet still dressed to perfection. Pink hair swept neatly across his forehead (newly trimmed, it looked like), and dark eyes flicked back and forth across his phone. Shu only had one bag slung over his shoulder, and his whole body slumped with exhaustion.

But he was stunning, and he was here.

Mika knew he should wait, check to make sure his more obsessive fans hadn't followed him or gotten wind of Shu's return. But Mika's body was out of his control, and he flew forward on wings of desperation and exhilaration and love.

Shu looked up.

And he smiled a hello.

Mika remembered just in time not to tackle Shu, and he awkwardly stumbled a few steps before wrapping the taller man in a tight hug. As always, a voice in the back of his head hissed at him for being so physically open. He was acting like an idiot!

As always, Shu hugged him back just as fiercely, dragging Mika a step closer. Mika went without complaint, and equal parts relief and delight pierced his heart at Shu's possessive hold. For the first time since Mika had left Paris, his heartbeat finally started to calm. The adrenaline drained away; the jitters ebbed into a glow of contentment. Slowly, surely, Mika relaxed.

It was real. Shu was back in Japan.

The taller man exhaled sharply, and Mika jerked back to attention, his brain finally shaking off the last of its daze. He pulled back a little, but only enough to examine Shu's face. Up close, the other man was clearly suffering from jet lag. He was trembling, too, and Mika frowned.

“Are you alright?” As soon as the words were out, he regretted it, and a hot flush seared across his face. “No, no, wait, that's not the first thing I wanna say to you,” Mika mumbled. “But I already- aah-”

Shu chuckled warmly, interrupting his rambling. “Your mouth always runs away from you when you're excited,” he noted, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Were you that anxious for my return?”

Part of Mika wanted to protest the gentle teasing, and the other part wanted to admit the truth: of course he had been. Shu's return was all he'd wanted for so long.

Mika went with the safer option.

“I know I ain't as well-spoken as you,” he mumbled, a little more petulantly than he cared to admit. “You don't hafta point it out.” Still, the fondness in Shu's eyes chased away his residual embarrassment, and Mika finally allowed his eager smile to break through. “I was gonna bring flowers, but they were kinda messy, and I didn't know how much you'd have with you.”

This time, he realized he was rambling and stubbornly clamped his mouth shut, lest he embarrassed himself yet again.

But it looked like he'd already blundered since Shu eyed him for a moment, a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth. “Flowers?” he echoed. Mika couldn't fight the blush. Oh, he wouldn't survive a week at this rate. “Well, I appreciate your consideration, but I value the sentiment more. Should we get a bouquet on the way home?”

Home.

“Yeah,” Mika said breathlessly. “Yeah, 'course.”

He suddenly remembered how they were traveling and glanced around for any other bags. There were none, save the bag still slung over Shu's shoulder. After the moment, the taller man seemed to catch on to his confusion.

“I already contacted ES and asked them to send a driver to pick up the rest of my luggage. I donated most of my things back in Paris, but I still had too much to burden you with. It'll arrive at the apartment soon.”

That made everything easier, Mika had to admit. But before he could say as much, Shu let out a quiet, shaky breath and glanced around the terminal. The tremors Mika had noticed before were visibly worsening, and his face paled with every passing second. Beneath the hubbub of the airport, Shu's breathing was almost ragged.

Right. They'd discussed this, too. It had been an afterthought but no less important, and even though Shu had made this decision himself, Mika felt a surge of guilt. On impulse, he took Shu's wrists. Dark eyes snapped back to him, a little wilder than before, and Mika squeezed gently.

“Welcome back, Shu,” he murmured.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Shu slowly shifted, resting his hands in Mika's. His fingers were cool to the touch. Just like the rest of him.

(Sometimes, Mika still couldn't believe he knew so much about the enigma that was his best friend.)

“I'm... glad to be back,” Shu returned quietly. The panicked tension in his shoulders didn't completely release, but his eyes were alert. “Are we taking a train?”

Mika responded by tugging Shu into the crowd, and the taller man went without complaint. They slipped into the flow of traffic, shoulder to shoulder, and Mika started back towards the terminal he'd waited at. He let go of Shu's hands, but to his surprise, Shu kept a tight hold of his right.

Oh, Mika was going to go into cardiac arrest. How did he always forget about things like this? The moments where Shu was so unbearably gentle? Mika didn't deserve it; he never had and never would.

But Shu had returned to Japan. Their fingers weren't laced, but Shu's thumb absently rubbed his knuckles, almost subconsciously.

Who was Mika to complain? He'd been given a miracle, and he'd be a fool to question it.

“You didn't answer my question.”

He flinched, startled out of his thoughts by Shu's dry voice. Mika quickly flicked back through his memories, then chuckled sheepishly when it clicked.

“Naw, we ain't takin' a train.” Shu tipped his head curiously, and Mika couldn't help but smile. “I still have fans, y'know,” he chirped. “It's too risky if someone recognizes us. So there's an ES car waitin' for us out front.”

Shu met his gaze with an unreadable expression. “'Us.'”

“Yeah. Lots of Valkyrie fans came with me when I started Monarch.”

It wasn't the first time Mika had said it, and he had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn't be the last. He never understood how Shu had missed the fact that Valkyrie's cult following had been instrumental in Monarch's explosive success.

The rest of the journey through the airport was blessedly uneventful; not a single fan emerged from the rushing crowds. A few times, someone squinted at them, but Mika hurried along without making eye contact, which proved to be enough of a deterrent. Shu was still too pale, his eyes a little too wide, but his hands remained firmly in Mika's. Finally, they broke through Terminal 33's double doors and stepped out into the cool evening. The sun had long since set, but a few wisps of orange and gold poked over the horizon.

Thankfully, the ES driver still idled at the curb. Mika quickly ducked into the backseat, and Shu followed, closing the door behind him. The car immediately pulled away, and Shu finally relaxed.

Good. Though there was only so much he could control, Mika still wanted this to be as painless as possible. After all, Shu was only here because of him.

No, no, that wasn't true. No use feeling guilty over something that Shu wanted, too. They'd agreed – no doing this unless they were partners.

“This is quite the ordeal.”

Mika glanced over and found Shu gazing out the window, his face a blank slate.

“You didn't need to order a private car,” the taller man continued quietly. “Even as a preventative measure. Who would recognize my face in this city?”

Every fan who buys a ticket to my Lives, Mika thought with a touch of melancholy. “It's not just for that,” he mumbled aloud. “This is so you can go back if you wanna. Y'know... go home and pretend this never happened.”

Silence. The air in the car had turned stifling, almost oppressive, and Mika had the sudden, panicked thought that he should've admitted that part of his plan. He'd meant it as a safety net in case Shu's mental health deteriorated, not as a challenge to his resolve. Oh, gods, had he-

“Thank you.”

Dark eyes flicked to him, and Mika barely stifled a gasp, pinned in place by the weight of grief and fondness in Shu's gaze.

“But my home is further into the city, is it not?” the taller man added, the barest hint of a smile touching his face. Mika's treacherous heart picked up into a skipping beat, and it only worsened as Shu leaned up to the driver. “We'd like to make a stop at Hareta Hana.”

The driver inclined his head and changed lanes as they sped away from the airport, heading towards the ES campus. It took a few seconds for Shu's order to process (thanks to the overwhelming effect of the first), but once Mika caught up, he flinched.

“How did you-”

Shu waved a dismissive hand. “I couldn't move back without doing some research. I was clueless when I last lived here, and it will only hinder me now. I ought to know what's close to my quarters.”

That didn't really explain why Shu knew, by name, the closest flower shop to the apartment, but the flare of bewildered fondness in Mika's chest kept him silent. Of course Shu would do research. Why wouldn't he? The taller man had always been meticulous to a fault.

Gods, they were finally out of the airport, racing along in Tokyo's evening traffic.

It was real.

In the blink of an eye, the car stopped outside Hareta Hana. Shu stepped out first, as graceful as ever, and swept into the shop as if he'd been visiting every day for months. Mika shook his head, mystified, and trailed the taller man inside.

“Good afternoon!” the attendant called at Shu's entrance. They instantly brightened when they spotted Mika. “Oh, Mr. Kagehira! Did you come back for your bouquet?”

Sitting in his apartment, curling up on the couch as he suffered through a sleepless night of manic excitement and debilitating anxiety, a “welcome back” bouquet had seemed just the right kind of sentimental. Even collaborating with the attendant had felt reasonable. Now, with Shu's curious gaze boring into the side of his head, Mika wanted to evaporate. Oh, he was so stupid. Why had he thought this was a good idea?!

Well, back in Paris, Shu had always kept a planter near the windows. He'd changed it every few weeks, and Mika had identified them as best he could to get a sense of Shu's taste, but...

No! No excuses!

“I would like to see it,” Shu said mildly, and Mika wondered if it was possible to sink into the ground.

The attendant glanced between them (Mika could've sworn he saw understanding light up their face), then nodded and vanished into the backroom. Shu drifted through the flower stands, brushing his fingers across delicate petals with a faint smile.

Mika had only genuinely questioned his intellect a few times in his life. This situation had just skyrocketed to the top of that list.

“Here you go!”

The quiet clink of glass against the countertop made Mika's stomach lurch, and it took every ounce of self-control to force himself to look up. Gods, the bouquet was just as colorful and fragrant as it'd been when Mika had approved the design. Looking at it now, he desperately wanted to snatch it away and fix everything.

Too late. Shu stepped up to the counter, face blank, and carefully reached for the bouquet.

It wasn't that impressive since Mika had been careful with his budget. Still, he'd poured enough time into researching the meaning of flowers that it counted for at least ¥15,000 in labor. The attendant – Kohei, if Mika remembered correctly – had devised the arrangement, but Mika had chosen three flowers as the focal point: blue Gentians, purple balloon flowers, and white Gladiolus. The pre-season Summer flowers. Admiration, honesty, and faithfulness.

He'd spent hours researching each flower. Hours. And yet, Mika was still gripped by the fear that he'd missed something.

“Beautiful,” Shu murmured, so quietly Mika almost missed it. Then the taller man looked up at the attendant and asked, louder, “How much is this arrangement?”

“¥10,000,” the attendant, Kohei, chirped.

Shu held his phone over the card reader without a word. Before Mika could remember how to speak, the attendant passed the bouquet to Shu, offered a precursory warning about the glass vase, and bid them farewell. Shu immediately left the shop, and Mika only had time to catch Kohei's bright grin and stealthy thumbs up before scrambling after his companion.

The driver raised an eyebrow when Shu settled into his seat, and Mika could only offer a helpless shrug. To his credit, the driver turned around and pulled away from the curb without question.

A few times, Mika thought he caught Shu gazing at the flowers with something almost like longing. But that didn't make any sense, and Mika's rampant anxiety demanded too much of his attention.

The first hurdle had been receiving Shu from the airport. Now came the second – and objectively more terrifying – bit: settling into the apartment. Mika had devoted literal years to improving his housekeeping habits, but the gut-twisting fear that he wasn't good enough had never faded. The stakes were even higher now. Shu wouldn't chide him and move on; they were living together.

Actually, the worst option would be if Shu decided to get his own apartment. The mere thought made Mika feel like he was drowning, so he hurriedly discarded it and latched onto the positives. Shu wanted to be back in Japan. They would be fine.

Hopefully.

Exactly a week after Mika had landed in Japan, nearly bouncing out of his skin with excitement, the ES driver pulled up to their apartment building. In a daze, Mika stepped out, scanning the street he'd seen every day for almost three years. It was different, somehow, with Shu standing on the sidewalk, holding his bouquet. A good different, though. A different that made his chest warm, curling around his heart.

In a flash, Mika remembered the driver and leaned down to the window. “Thank you,” he said, and the driver shot him a surprised look. “I know the traffic out by the airport ain't easy to navigate. Have a good evenin'.”

“You too, Mr. Kagehira.”

The driver sounded hesitant, as if expecting a catch, and Mika's heart squeezed. So many idols mistreated their drivers; no need to make this man nervous. He nodded once, then quickly strode into the building. Silently, he prayed Shu was following him, because if Mika stopped to look, his legs would seize up.

“I'm glad there's an elevator,” the taller man noted as they stepped into the car, and Mika pressed the “3” button. “It would be extremely inconvenient to drag my luggage up three flights.”

“You packed that much?” Mika asked, curious despite his nerves. Shu wrinkled his nose, and Mika couldn't stifle a giggle. “I guess you had to bring all your unfinished projects along. What happened to that stone statue in your studio?”

Shu's brow creased with frustration. “I could not finish her, so I donated her to a nearby underfunded art school. They will use her as carving practice.”

So soft at heart.

The elevator door opened, and Mika hurried to the end of the hall before he blurted something he couldn't take back. To his relief, he unlocked the door on the first try and shouldered inside.

Alright. Everything was as clean as he'd left it.

His anxiety slightly soothed, Mika slipped out of his shoes and stepped into the fluffy, white slippers Shu had given him months ago. (He'd never meant for them to be his regular inside slippers. Go figure.) Shu carefully set the bouquet on the entry side table, then pulled a pair of inside slippers from his bag. His dark eyes never wavered from the apartment, scanning it curiously.

“Oh,” Mika said dumbly. “You never saw my new apartment, huh?”

“I haven't. You were always secretive.” Shu straightened and advanced into the living room, his hands tucked in his pockets. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder. “It barely looks inhabited,” he noted with a hint of surprise. “Your room in Paris was more lived in than this.”

I always felt more at home in Paris, Mika didn't say. It was always too empty here. “I'm not around much,” he said aloud, because that was as close to the truth as he could get. “So you can redo whatever you want! It'll give you somethin' to do while ES works out the paperwork.”

Shu turned his gaze back to the living room, and Mika knew the taller man hadn't caught on. He didn't know if he was relieved or not.

“Very well,” Shu mused. “We'll be receiving several deliveries over these upcoming weeks, then.”

Good. You can make this place feel like home.

Mika didn't say that, either.

The tour was short; the apartment wasn't special by ES standards. The kitchen attached to the living room, complete with all the modern amenities, and three doors occupied the far wall – two for Mika's and Shu's bedrooms, the last for the bathroom. (Shu's new bedroom had once been Mika's office, but he'd never used it.) It was significantly more cramped than Shu's Paris apartment. Still, the taller man smiled warmly as he stepped into his new room, and Mika decided that was good enough. His phone buzzed moments later, and he picked up the call to learn that an ES driver had arrived with Shu's luggage.

Mika wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, exactly. Shu had never been wasteful (clearly, as he'd donated the bulk of his wardrobe), and he'd never been a hoarder like Mika. Still, only four medium-sized suitcases – the smallest of which housed Mademoiselle – seemed too little.

As they examined the pile, Shu snorted. “Don't look so worried,” he said archly. “I plan to make more clothes while I'm here and purchase items from decent boutiques. I won't touch anything of yours.”

The mental image of Shu wearing one of Mika's shirts flashed through his mind, and it was simultaneously innocent and the most enticing thing in the world. He stubbornly chased the image away, then picked up two suitcases. “If you're gonna make a jacket,” Mika mumbled, wobbling back towards the building, “I want one, too.”

Shu coughed a laugh, and Mika ducked his head to hide a lingering blush.

By 9 o'clock, the suitcases were spread over Shu's bed, thrown open as he explored his closet and dresser. Mika sat in the doorway, amusedly watching the taller man flit around. He'd been a pent-up ball of nerves for so many days... it seemed silly now.

Yes, the apartment was slightly cramped for the two of them. But Mika had always known the space wasn't meant for one, and he didn't mind the proximity with Shu.

It had its dangers, though, and Mika could already feel himself slipping. When he spent too long around Shu – or spent too long apart – his eyes drifted without his permission, and the dopey smiles he hid away peeked through. It was no different now.

Shu still moved with the assurance of someone who'd never left Japan – or even the apartment. His silk shirt rustled, and dark eyes darted from one thing to the next before jumping to a third fascination. His steps were rapid, yet there was an ease to his posture that hadn't existed in the airport.

Vaguely, Mika recalled the last time Shu had visited his residence. The taller man had disposed of his things without a thought, and if Mika concentrated, he still remembered the betrayal that'd scorched his heart.

He glanced up.

“Is there any space for my notes?” Shu asked, plucking distractedly at the paper he held. “I'd prefer to keep everything, but I can select the most important ones if necessary.”

“Naw,” Mika murmured, and his heart swelled. “I keep mine in the entry hall closet. We can stack your box in there.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

“Mm.”

Mika's phone buzzed, and he jumped, startled out of his peaceful stupor. No one ever called him past 8 P.M. unless it was one of his closest friends or an emergency from ES. He hurriedly dug it out of his pocket, then relaxed when he caught sight of the image filling the screen – a selfie of him and a woman with short blond hair and a dazzling grin.

“Hey, Arashi,” he greeted, answering the call. Shu shot him a bewildered look, and Mika pointed at his phone. The taller man's confusion cleared. “What's up?”

“'What's up?' Don't try to fool me, Mika; I know you're still a bundle of nerves.” Arashi gasped. “Wait. Is he there? Oh, my god, Mika, is he there?”

Mika made a face before remembering that Arashi couldn't see him. “Yeah, he's here,” he mumbled. Shu's dark eyes flicked to him again, narrowed with curiosity, and Mika flushed.

“What are you- oh, he's listening, isn't he?”

Arashi sounded far too delighted at the predicament she'd put him in, and Mika scrunched up his nose. He glanced back at Shu, and oh, gods, the taller man had left his suitcases and now leaned against the doorframe over him. His face was passive, but his eyes were still bright with interest.

Mika's throat was not dry. He did not struggle to breathe with Shu so close, dark eyes shining with a question.

“Mika?”

Alright. Two options, and one made this reintroduction much easier than the other.

Mika took his phone away from his ear and put it on speaker, carefully balancing it against his knees. “We can hear you, Arashi,” he said, and he was quite proud that his voice betrayed nothing of his hammering heartbeat. The benefits of years of practice.

Shu's gaze sharpened. A long-buried instinct begged Mika to shrink away, but he wrestled the urge under control and met Shu's stare evenly. The taller man wasn't angry, after all, just curious. Things were different. They were different. Not to mention that Mika had good friends now, and he would never “hide” someone as close to his heart as Arashi. Besides... maybe...

“Hello, Shu!” Arashi's voice was warm, tinged with a smile. “Welcome back to Japan!” Shu flinched slightly, and guilt pricked Mika's heart. “I hate to disturb you since I know you must be jet-lagged. But Mika asked if I could buy some groceries for him, and I was busy all day. Is it okay if I drop them off now?”

This time, when Mika glanced up, Shu was already looking at him. An edge of instability haunted the taller man's eyes – maybe even fear.

Mika hated it. Arashi was safe to him, but he had the benefit of three years spent growing alongside her. He refused to subject Shu to an uncomfortable situation so soon after his return, even if that meant-

“Yes,” Shu said slowly, and Mika flinched in surprise. “Thank you.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Arashi's soft laugh drifted through the speakers.

“Well, I'm glad you said that, because I'm outside.”

A sharp knock sounded on the front door, and Mika flinched again, accidentally jerking into Shu's leg. The taller man grunted, annoyance and amusement flickering in his eyes, and he planted a warning hand on Mika's hand.

“Be more aware of your surroundings,” he chided.

“Sorry,” Mika mumbled. He was just abashed enough to offer a sheepish smile, but nothing could dim the fresh wave of warmth in his chest. He pocketed his pocket and scrambled to his feet.

When he opened the door, Arashi beamed. “Oh my, someone looks happy,” she noted, and Mika couldn't help a giddy laugh as she pulled him into a hug. (It wasn't as tight as Shu's, though. It never was.) Just as quickly, Arashi released him, picked up the groceries, and gracefully swept into the apartment. “It already feels smaller in here!” she laughed. “Are you sure you didn't overestimate this little space, Mika?”

“It was more crowded in the ES housing,” Mika protested, closing and locking the door. “We'll be fine.”

Arashi paused halfway through unloading a bag – by this point, she knew where he kept everything – and shot him a knowing smile. “Mm. I'm sure.”

Mika inhaled to defend himself, but Arashi had already turned to the man hovering at the edge of the kitchen. Oh, gods, Mika had almost forgotten Shu was there. His gut twisted, wracked with guilt, and it only tightened at the tension in Shu's shoulders and the discomfort written across his face. Gods, what if Shu had just left the apartment?

Alright, that was probably just his anxiety talking. Still, Mika lurched forward, padding over to Shu and settling at his shoulder. The taller man shot him an unreadable look, and oh, hm, Mika really should've thought of an excuse.

Ah, what did it matter? Arashi knew of Mika's mental health struggles, and she was smart enough to realize that Shu had his fair share of issues.

“You moved in quickly,” Arashi piped up, flapping a hand at the boxes piled in the corner. “Unless you've already hidden everything away, it looks like you didn't bring much.”

Shu's shoulders were still tight. At the implicit question, he swayed towards Mika as if trying to steady himself without actually reaching out. But Arashi simply waited – she'd always been good at diffusing tense situations – and eventually, Shu spoke.

“I didn't. It would've been too expensive. I left most of my belongings in the capable hands of a Paris charity organization.”

For a single heartbeat, Arashi's bright smile slipped. It wasn't that she'd been faking it; her eyes flickered with newfound respect. Maybe it was Shu's actions or that he was making an effort to hold a conversation. Either way, Arashi glanced at Mika and offered a more genuine grin.

He really has changed, her eyes said.

Mika just bit his lip to stifle a beaming smile.

“Well, whenever you're settled, Ensemble Square awaits,” Arashi added lightly. Her voice was somehow more open than it'd been a moment before. “Are you two stopping by any time soon?”

Shu was still too pale, too unlike the man who'd left Japan three years ago, but his voice came out steady. “In a sense, yes. Mika and I must complete all the paperwork before any action can be taken.” Shu glanced over, and a smile lifted the corners of his eyes. “Though, if I remember correctly,” he murmured, “Mika already took care of as much as possible.”

Biting his lip couldn't completely hide his stupid grin, but Mika still tried to withstand it.

“He did,” Arashi agreed, amusement lacing her voice. “He kept asking me about technicalities since I've dealt with so many 'unit scares.' Ah, I wish Izumi would make up his mind.”

Shu frowned slightly. “Is Sena causing trouble?”

“Mm. He always does. He and Leo are having another one of their spats, and-” Arashi shook herself, and the storm brewing around her head faded like clouds chased away by the sun. Mika made a silent resolution to talk to her later; she always got anxious when Knights had internal issues. “Well, I'm sure we'll be fine,” Arashi finished, a little weary. “But back to you two. I heard about your apartment in Paris, Shu. I imagine this place isn't quite your style.”

Mika knew the surprised stare was coming before Shu even turned to him, but that did nothing to dim his embarrassment. Yes, he probably should've told Shu that Arashi knew a lot about his visits beforehand. But Mika had never found a suitable moment to say, “By the way, I'm always bursting with joy when I get back from visiting you, and that makes me a chatterbox.”

Stupid! He should've made a moment!

No, no, he wasn't an idiot. Well... in this case, it was kinda true.

Then Shu smiled, faint but genuine, and Mika's thoughts evaporated. “Mika gave me free rein to redecorate.”

“Did he?”

“Shut up, Arashi,” Mika muttered, still fighting a flush, and she had the audacity to snicker. If Mika wasn't amped up on adrenaline and terrified of blurting something in front of Shu, he probably would've tried to tickle her.

Unfortunately, Arashi knew him too well, and she swept towards the door with a smug smile. Even teasing him, Arashi was beautiful. Mika didn't think he'd ever understand how she always looked so put together.

“Well, I'm off!” Arashi said, wiggling her fingers in farewell. “Don't forget, Mika; we're meeting at ES tomorrow. I know you'll be busy, but we need all of Pretty 5 together! I heard Aira and Tori chewed you out for missing last week's brunch.”

Mika blanched at the memory. He'd always been a little scared of Tori (the shorter man just oozed money), but Aira Shiratori's wrath was on another plane of terrifying. He had no idea how Hiiro was still alive.

“I won't forget,” he mumbled, barely stifling a shiver. “Thanks again, Arashi.”

“Anything for you. Oh! I almost forgot.”

Mika frowned, but he obediently trotted forward when Arashi waved at him. Why was she being dramatic? She never forgot things. Then Arashi produced a small paper bag from one of her coat's inner pockets, and Mika's heart lurched.

“Your special request,” Arashi whispered. Mika tried to thank her, but nothing came out. All he could do was stare at one of his best friends with wide eyes, and Arashi chuckled, gently squeezing his shoulder. “You look happy,” she murmured. “Goodnight, Mika.” Then, louder: “Have a good evening, Shu!”

With that, Arashi swept out the door and vanished into the evening darkness. Mika closed the door behind her, still grinning, and turned to find Shu wearing a slightly incredulous expression.

“I don't recall her being so animated the last time we met.”

“She's always been like that,” Mika giggled. “You probably weren't interested in talkin' before.”

That... sounded much harsher than Mika had intended. He winced, silently cursing his inability to form sentences, but Shu lifted his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug.

“I wouldn't doubt it. What is that?”

Ha. Yet another sentimental “homecoming” gift that seemed unbelievably stupid now that Mika had to present it. But he'd walked the line of embarrassing himself all day, so what was one more? He inhaled deeply, then offered the bag. Shu took it, visibly confused, and Mika resolutely forced back a wave of anxiety.

“That pastry shop you always liked is still open,” he explained, offering an uncertain smile, “so I bought you a croissant. I know they ain't the real thing, which is why I didn't get a case or anythin', but... it's a taste of home.”

Shu stared down at the bag as if it held a live animal instead of a pastry. Fueled by lingering exhaustion and adrenaline and the fear that this beautiful dream might come crashing down around him, Mika began to panic. Had he pushed too far with this? He'd finally started to think that he had a good handle on their boundaries, but-

The taller man exhaled sharply, and the sound cut through Mika's mounting panic like a knife. Then he was engulfed in a hug, pulled against a cool body, and held close by one arm. It wasn't as tight as usual since Shu protected his croissant with his free hand, but there was still something desperate about his hold. Needy, Mika would call it, if he didn't know better.

But the description didn't matter, because Shu was hugging him here, in their apartment in Japan, his face buried in Mika's shoulder.

Mika only lasted a second before wrapping his arms around Shu and hugging him back.

“Thank you.”

The words were so quiet, Mika almost didn't hear them. He tilted his head, a question on his tongue, but Shu let out a soft breath and effectively shut his brain down.

“Thank you for making me feel at home.”

Anythin' for you, Mika thought, dazed. I still can't believe you came back to him.

Caught in the hazy embrace of exhaustion and adoration, Mika nearly blurted the sentiment aloud. He clamped down on it just in time. Shu stepped away a moment later, allowing Mika to frantically rebuild his filter. He shook his head slightly (gods, that had been too close), then refocused on Shu, who examined the paper bag with a faint smile. Mika grinned, inhaling to tease Shu about liking Japanese croissants.

His phone vibrated.

Mika frowned, fishing it out of his pocket. Odd. Maybe Arashi had left something behind? He tapped the screen, then blinked, startled, upon seeing a notification from Kohaku. The younger man usually turned off his phone by now. Worry flared in Mika's chest, and he hurriedly opened the message in Hold-hands.

Kohaku: i can't believe you actually bought the flowers
Kohaku: you're absolutely hopeless
Kohaku: what did i say when you were working on the bouquet? make it simple so you don't blow out your budget.
Kohaku: you might as well have flown him back from Paris yourself

Ah. No emergencies. Mika couldn't help but roll his eyes as he typed a response.

Mika: it wasn't that expensive and he bought it himself
Mika: how do u even know about the flowers

Kohaku: only after you made a sad face at him right?

Mika: no!!!
Mika: and u didn't answer my question!!
Mika: did Arashi tell you??

Kohaku: liar
Kohaku: you pouted and you didn't even notice

Mika huffed, a little miffed, and Shu looked up from his snack. His brow furrowed when he noticed Mika's phone – and probably his irritated expression.

“Is something wrong?”

“Naw, it's fine,” Mika sighed. “It's just Kohaku.” Confusion replaced Shu's concern, and Mika added, “Y'know, Kohaku Oukawa. Suou's cousin or somethin', former member of Crazy:B. Did I tell you he's with Freebirds now?”

“No,” Shu said mildly. “You're quite popular.”

Mika hesitated. That wasn't... entirely true. More importantly, he heard the waver of fear hidden in Shu's voice, the expectations buried beneath an impassive expression. Mika had friends, yes, good friends. Arashi had been supportive in everything for almost three years; he loved her wholeheartedly. Kohaku was infuriating at times, but he was still loyal and kind. Not to mention-

Well. They'd cross that bridge later.

The point was, Mika loved his friends, but his relationship with Shu still owned most of his heart. He'd spent a long time trying to make it otherwise before realizing that it was okay to care about Shu so deeply. He could prioritize the taller man so long as he still cherished his other friends.

But how did he say that without admitting the depth of his affection?

Shu snorted, and the sound broke Mika from his swirling thoughts. “Sit down, fool,” he ordered. Mika did without question (oh, Kohaku would've mocked him to hell and back if he'd seen that), and after a moment, Shu fixed him with a more serious look. “It will take me time to acclimate to being here,” the taller man said quietly. “While that is happening, please do not hide away anything of your life. I will find another apartment before forcing you to accommodate me.”

Technically, this is your place, too, Mika thought, torn between exasperation and overwhelming fondness.

“I don't have anythin' to hide,” he said aloud. “You've already met Arashi, and I talk to her and Kohaku the most.” That wasn't strictly true; the third most active conversation on Mika's Hold-hands was titled “Nii.” But that could come later. “Don't worry, Shu. It ain't hard to 'accommodate' you when I want you here.”

Oh. Oh, shit-

Dark purple eyes met his over the table, and a spark of electricity raced up and down Mika's spine. He was paralyzed, held in place by Shu's inquisitive look, and his heartbeat started to skip. Gods, he'd almost forgotten how hard it was to breathe when Shu looked at him like that, searching for something Mika didn't know how to give.

“I'll make dinner,” Shu said abruptly, and he took a healthy bite of his croissant. All Mika could do was gape at him, still trembling. The taller man swallowed, then rolled his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that? I am the superior chef in this household.”

It was a peace offering. Mika knew that; they'd worked out this mechanism a long time. A way to table the conversation until they were both ready for it.

“You're jet-lagged, Shu,” he protested, and the taller man scoffed. “You should be sleepin', not preppin' dinner. What if you cut your fingers or somethin'?”

“That won't happen. What do you want to eat?”

Mika stared at Shu a moment longer, incredulous. The taller man met his gaze evenly, the hint of a pleased smile lurking around the corners of his mouth, and... gods. They'd come so far.

“Soup,” he mumbled. “You choose the ingredients.”

Fifteen minutes later, Shu had total dominion over the kitchen, juggling three pots and a ladle that never got dirty. Mika had been banished to clean his mini-office so Shu could have space for his projects, but he was a little distracted. Two weeks ago, he'd been making dinner by myself, eagerly awaiting his flight to Paris.

Now Shu was here.

A lovestruck smile finally broke through. Mika was safe in his corner, hidden from Shu's too-observant gaze, so he buried his face in his hands and let the ball of emotion in his chest explode. His heart was ablaze; it had been all day. Disbelief and delight and so much love swirled through his veins, rushed in his ears and encircled his chest. Mika had no idea if he wouldn't be sleeping tonight or if he'd passed out immediately.

Three days of paperwork, completed between other projects. It had been horrifically tedious and exhausting, but Mika had done it without hesitation. And now, as soon as those final documents in the COS PRO offices had his and Shu's signatures...

Valkyrie would return.

Chapter Text

Everything in Paris had been stark. Bright sunrises, vibrant flora, the shine of uninterrupted snow after a heavy storm. Shu had often skirted the busiest parts of Paris to avoid blinding headaches. Tokyo had its mesmerizing sunrises, too, and neon signs shining down from towering skyscrapers, but the light and people here didn't bother him as much.

Those headaches had probably been psychosomatic, come to think of it. No wonder the migraine medication hadn't helped.

Regardless, back in Paris, Shu had spent long hours pacing his studio, torn between tearing out his hair or smashing his latest project to the ground and seeking beauty in the shards. The melodrama amused him now – in ES's design studio, the stakes were hardly so life or death.

Shu carefully tied off his stitch and sat back, examining his handiwork. Compared to his designs from a few years ago, the simple diamond pattern was painfully amateur. He'd known he would be rusty, and imperfections irked him. Still, relearning gave him freedom.

A new style. A fresh start.

Shu absently drummed his fingers on the desk as he thought. The Asiatic lily, neatly stitched onto a white background, was still too rough around the edges. He could do better. Shu stood, groaning softly as he straightened his spine, then padded over to the nearest fabric shelf.

The design studio had undergone drastic changes while he was gone. Everything had been shuffled around, and more than once, Shu had spent so long looking for a material that he'd nearly forgotten why he wanted it in the first place. But, he had to admit, the studio was neater and cleaner. The outfit storage had been tucked in the corner, preserving old costumes in a darker closet, and all the materials and machinery were clearly labeled for easy use.

Some things did not change – like the human tendency to ignore the figure hunched in the corner, stitching by hand – and he was grateful for it.

Shu flicked through the stack of pre-cut pieces and silently bemoaned the frayed edges and uneven cuts. Clearly, each had been the work of someone even more amateur than him. After several minutes of disappointment (honestly, had a toddler picked up the scissors?), Shu dismissed the pre-cut pile and grabbed a bolt of blue fabric. He'd do it himself.

Simple and elegant, Shu thought wryly, measuring the cut by hours of instinct alone. Ornate without overpowering the larger design. Does Wataru even hear to himself?

At Mika's encouragement, Shu had rejoined Dramatica and CRAFTMONSTER. When Shu had first returned to Japan, they'd endeavored to stay as under the radar as possible. But, after knocking out stack upon stack of paperwork, Mika had brightly suggested that Shu return to his old circles. Why not, after all? Once Valkyrie was revived, every agency would know of Shu's return. That, or they'd assume Mika had found another partner.

An irrational surge of possessiveness seized Shu's heart, and he hurriedly pushed the sentiment aside. Its intensity was... worrisome.

Regardless, Wataru had gladly welcomed him back. “One of our greatest stars has rejoined the troupe!” Wataru had cried over the phone, and Shu had winced at the enthusiasm. The only condition Wataru set was that Shu make something for the troupe's latest production as “proof” that he hadn't lost his creative touch.

He hadn't, of course. The issue lay in his technical abilities, so here he was, doing amateur needlework to get his amateur hands back up to par. But Shu didn't mind. As he returned to his desk, an odd tranquility settled on his shoulders, a comforting weight. Puncture, set the seam, and repeat. One stitch at a time.

Three years of a self-imposed ban on everything related to idol work. God, how had he survived?

Someone rapped their knuckles against a shelf, just loud enough to break through Shu's peaceful haze. It almost sounded like a knock, and he spared a moment to scoff. Who would try to get their friend's attention by sound instead of name? Inefficient.

The knock sounded again, closer, and Shu suddenly realized he was the intended recipient. He rushed through the stitch, then twisted. Who would want to speak with him?

His heart stopped.

Standing next to the shelves was a tall man with a shock of red hair, black streaks accentuated by the dim lighting. He was tan, probably from hours spent in the sun, and he looked more muscular than Shu remembered. Most surprising was the smile that crinkled yellow-green eyes at the corners.

“Kuro,” Shu said dumbly. His brain caught up a few seconds too late, and he mentally cursed himself for slipping into impolite familiarity. God, what a fantastic way to-

“It's good to see you, Shu.”

Oh.

Kuro stepped up to Shu's desk and dipped his head in greeting, hovering a few steps away. “I don't mean to bother you,” he added, still smiling. “Mika asked for my help.”

God. Shu hadn't realized how much he'd missed Kuro until now, facing his childhood friend again. “What are you doing here?” he asked, swiveling to face Kuro more directly. The taller man grabbed a chair from a nearby desk and pulled it into Shu's corner. “I heard AKATSUKI disbanded.”

“We did,” Kuro agreed. “But only Hasumi left. Souma and I are still around, helping new idols. One unit followed in our footsteps, so we're mentoring them the best we can. I had plans to move to Sapporo, but...” Kuro glanced at the fabrics strewn across Shu's desk, and his smile turned wry. “The industry has a way of holding onto ya.”

Oh, didn't Shu know it. “It sounds like you've befriended Mika if you're here on his behalf,” he added lightly.

Kuro brightened. “I'd like to think so. He's as dedicated to his work as ever; I've spent too many hours in this studio with him.” He paused. Something heavy entered his gaze, and when piercing eyes flicked across his face, Shu felt a twinge of anxiety. “Since you're here,” Kuro began slowly, “I guess that means he was telling the truth about his trips to France.”

A laugh burst out before Shu could stop it. “Yes, he was visiting me,” he said, still chuckling. Mika's indignation expression flashed through Shu's head, and he stifled another laugh. “He said some idols chided him for spending his L$ on flights.”

I would've done the same if I didn't need him so much. I'm a weak man now, Kuro. Can you see that?

Shu's amusement dimmed to a mere flicker, sputtering in the darkness. Logically, he identified that string of thoughts as intrusive, his insecurities and fears reflecting back at him. But faced with Kuro's too-bright eyes, Shu was hardly thinking logically. He felt weak. Needy. That he'd chained Mika down and financially burdened him.

Stop that. You never asked for a penny.

The chiding vanished before Shu could really hear it, whisked away by his whirling thoughts. Still, he recognized the flare of exasperation and latched onto it. Mademoiselle had always been better at objectively evaluating his behavior.

“Some did,” Kuro admitted, and Shu hurriedly tuned back into the conversation. “He never listened.”

Kuro paused, resting his elbows on his quads, and Shu braced himself for the incoming questions. A deeply ingrained instinct hissed for him to pull away and hide behind the walls he'd made part of himself, but... that was pointless. If Shu wanted his life to unfold differently, he had to make the appropriate changes.

Even if that meant staring down a conversation he wasn't ready to have.

“Mika spoke fondly of you while you were away,” Kuro began hesitantly. “But... with no disrespect to either of you, it sounded like a string of fantasies. I can't imagine you going on a... picnic.”

Kuro's rambling posed no direct questions, but Shu still heard the unspoken one. Do I have to protect Mika? Kuro was asking, his brow furrowed with equal parts curiosity and concern. It made sense; the taller man had known Shu the longest and watched his descent into mental instability even closer than Mika had.

And suddenly, his chest warmed.

Shu hadn't expected returning to Japan to be easy, but Mika had smashed his expectations apart. Part of it was the paperwork; Shu could only imagine how many tedious hours of fine print the shorter man had slogged through to alleviate his burden. Part of it was the homeliness of his – their – apartment.

Mostly, it was that Mika had so easily welcomed Shu into his life. True to his word, he didn't hide anything. Arashi had visited three evenings in a row to make sure Mika ate while they waited for the COS PRO producers to sign off on their documents. She never stayed long, but Shu didn't mind her presence. It was worth seeing Mika so happy and lively. God knew Mika deserved friends who knew his worth.

Surprisingly, Arashi was kind to Shu, too. She opened up their conversations, grinned at Shu when he hesitantly taunted her back, and laughed when Mika pouted after Shu muttered a teasing remark. With Arashi so willing to give him a chance, Shu couldn't help but invite the familiarity. He needed friendships, and he trusted the woman who'd cared for Mika while he was gone.

Shu looked up and met Kuro's conflicted stare, and he offered a faint smile. This, too, was someone he wanted to make amends with.

“We had several picnics,” Shu said simply. “Some in the garden, others in the city. As unbelievable as Mika's stories may have sounded, each was real. I could recite our conversations or tell you about my therapy sessions in France. I have pictures from our outings if physical proof would ease your mind. But, if you are willing to trust my word, let me say that Mika saved my life. I wouldn't be here without him”

Kuro blinked. The anxiety Shu had stubbornly been repressing for that little speech broke through his mental dam and washed over him in a wave. No other idol in ES would've received such a straightforward answer, and if Kuro didn't believe him, Shu couldn't repeat himself. His anxiety clawed at his throat, nearly choking him, and beneath his laced fingers, Shu's hands trembled. He was still too raw, too-

“Well, things change.”

Shu twitched, startled out of his downward spiral. Kuro was smiling again. The expression was more open, just like how Arashi had warmed up to him after a few days in each other's company.

“I'm out of AKATSUKI,” Kuro continued quietly, glancing out the window, “and you're disregarded your retirement. Anything can happen.” It sounded as if Kuro had reached some internal decision, and when he turned back, his smile was wide and genuine. “Welcome back to Japan, Shu.”

Guilt overtook his anxiety in a sickening rush. No, no, he couldn't let the conversation end here. Shu needed to apologize, to prove that he knew his behavior required amends.

But before he could say a word, Kuro lifted a silencing hand. “I apologize as well,” he said firmly. “I think new memories are in order. After all, I'm no longer an idol, and you're joining Monarch on stage. Our lives have changed.”

A peace offering.

He didn't deserve it.

Take it, Shu. You don't have to prove yourself.

Mademoiselle's chiding was there and gone, again whipped away by his cacophonous thoughts. But Shu heard the core of it, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

“Mika's time as Monarch was unprecedented. I'm... grateful he gave that up for me.”

Kuro chuckled. “I don't think anyone could've stopped him.”

In the blink of an eye, the dark clouds lingering over their conversation finally evaporated. Shu felt lighter, unburdened, and Kuro's smile drew out one of his own. This was a new path. Bygones were bygones – for now, at least – and they would only reminisce once Shu was strong enough.

See?

Shu stifled a warmer smile at Mademoiselle's smugness and inhaled to ask about Souma Kanzaki instead; he'd always wondered what happened to AKATSUKI’s members following their breakup. Then he froze. Kuro had finally unlaced his fingers, resting them atop his knees, and now... Shu could see the silver band adorning Kuro's left hand.

Was- was that-

Kuro followed his gaze curiously, and a brilliant smile overtook his face, lighting him up with pure joy. “Of course you noticed,” he said softly, running a reverent hand over the band. “Souma did as well. No one else noticed for several months.”

Months? Shu thought, dazed. “Congratulations,” he murmured aloud. “How long?”

“Our one-year anniversary is next month. Aemi said she didn't want to do anything special, but-” Kuro shook his head fondly. “I will still treat her to something. Souma and I have been splitting AKATSUKI’s remaining L$, and we're both on the frugal side.”

Shu had so many questions – mostly because he'd never known an idol who'd married while still in the industry, if only on the outskirts. Had it been lavish or small? Had the fans pushed back, or had they been supportive? Above all, Shu wanted to ask about Kuro's wife.

But deep in Shu's chest, something dark and melancholy burrowed into his lungs, stealing every breath.

A childhood friend had gotten married, and he hadn't been around to see it.

Of course, who was to say that Kuro would've invited him? This was the friendliest conversation they'd had in years, and god only knew how Shu would've reacted to Kuro's proposal. He might've scorned the other man for marrying young or “ruining his career.” As much as it pained him to admit it, maybe his absence had been for the best.

Still...

“I regret I couldn't celebrate with you,” Shu said haltingly. Kuro glanced up, his face softening with an emotion Shu couldn't identify. He stubbornly pressed on. “I'd like to offer something for your anniversary. In lieu of your wedding date.”

Kuro's eyes flicked back and forth across Shu's face for a moment. “I also wish you could've attended,” the taller man said eventually, and the air punched out of Shu's lungs. “Mika was there.”

It took several seconds before Shu could remember how to breathe, and even then, his voice came out thin. “Was he?”

“Yes, Aemi is quite fond of him, and Aniki- my little sister. Have you ever met her?” Shu shook his head silently, and Kuro smiled. “She and Mika were attached at the hip for the day. I think Aniki wants to become an idol now.”

He wanted to smile back. He wanted to congratulate Kuro again, ask for pictures of the wedding, if the other man had any on hand, and start thinking about a gift for their anniversary. Three years away from idol culture had taught Shu the value of appreciating life, and this was certainly an occasion worth celebrating.

Shu felt cold. Unbalanced, ashamed, and, even deeper in his heart, betrayed. Mika had attended Kuro's wedding and not said a thing to him? Why?

“Shu?”

Kuro's quiet voice wasn't enough to fully break Shu's downhill spiral, but for a split second, it dragged him above water. Shu frantically started paddling.

A deep breath, enough to make his lungs ache.

Kuro's eyes, sharp and focused, proving that Shu was here and real.

The knowledge that he couldn't change the past.

Mika would never do anything to harm Shu, and a sick rush of guilt flooded his heart for even entertaining the thought. For god's sake, Mika had wanted to abandon Monarch for years, yet he'd stayed quiet for Shu's sake. The man was too kind and compassionate for his own good. Shu had asked Mika not to tell him specifics of the industry, and the shorter man had always abided by that, save his own frustrations or collaborations for a Live.

What would've made Kuro's wedding any different?

With another deep breath, Shu's head finally cleared. His heartbeat, which he hadn't even noticed picking up, slowed back to a steady beat, and the numbness in his hands receded.

I'm proud of you. That wasn't easy.

“I'm sure Mika has pictures from the wedding,” Shu said aloud, though his chest warmed at Mademoiselle's praise. “I'll ask to see them later. He never does anything without taking a commemorative selfie.”

Kuro's concern melted back into a welcoming smile. “I also have some photos on my phone if you want to see them.”

Another extended hand.

Shu would take it. Again and again, until he escaped his island of isolation.

Suddenly, a commotion rose from the other side of the design studio, and their peaceful bubble popped. Shu leaned forward with a scowl, half-expecting to see a younger idol with a needle jammed into their finger. To his relief, Mika was the eye of the storm, apologizing for accidentally slamming the door. Shu's first thought was to roll his eyes. His second quickly overpowered the first because, oh, wait, Mika was shining his excitement, his mismatched eyes alight. Shu's breath caught in his throat. Was this what they'd been waiting for?

“Shu!” Mika called, hurrying towards him, and Shu winced. If the other idols in the room hadn't known of his return, they certainly did now. “Shu! We-” Mika stumbled when he noticed Kuro, then instantly brightened again. “Kuro! Aah, I'm real sorry for makin' you come all this way for nothin'. I was gonna ask you to help with designin', but-”

Mika whipped around to face Shu, grabbing his wrists with those lovely, warm hands. When the shorter man tugged urgently, all Shu could do was obey, getting to his feet as best he could with Mika standing over him.

I'm a weak man, Kuro. I'm sure you see that now.

“Anzu's upstairs,” Mika continued in a rush, his dialect getting even thicker with his excitement. Belatedly, Shu realized that he still understood Mika perfectly. “And she's got the signature from the COS PRO producers!"

Shu's heart pounded along at double speed, amplified by Mika's radiant smile and his tight grasp on Shu's wrists. This was it.

The shorter man suddenly faltered, turning back to Kuro (though, Shu noted, he didn't release his hold). “I'm real sorry 'bout this,” he echoed with a sheepish smile. “Do you still have time after this?”

Kuro blinked. Shu would've chuckled at the taller man's bewildered expression if he hadn't been so dazed. “Yes, my schedule is free,” Kuro said slowly. “After what?”

Mika turned back to Shu and beamed. “We're reformin' Valkyrie!”

Then they were off, darting back through the design studio. Mika dragged Shu along by the hand, squeezing his fingers tightly, and all Shu could do was follow. In seconds, they'd left Kuro behind and emerged into ES's main lobby. Shu would've protested going through such a public space a few days ago, but now... why bother? Once they spoke to Anzu, there would be no more skulking around, no more rumors. No Monarch.

The elevator bell dinged, and Shu flinched, startled out of his haze. He and Mika were alone in the car, at least. No one else was around to witness his jitters or trembling breaths. They were only meeting with Anzu, but Shu hardly wanted to show up looking like a mess. Best to keep himself distracted.

“I should ask,” he said quietly, and Mika glanced at him curiously. “What units are under COS PRO?”

Mika's eagerness dimmed for the first time since his impromptu arrival in the design studio, quickly settling into solemn understanding. Though Shu hated seeing the gleeful light fade from the shorter man's eyes, he also breathed a sigh of relief. They both knew he'd spent too long burying his head in the sand.

“The big ones are Eden, 2wink, and Freebirds,” Mika listed, counting them off on his fingers. “2wink's down in Osaka for a couple of months, doin' some public work. Eden hasn't changed. Well, I guess to you, they have, but Hiyori and Sazanami haven't. And then there's Freebirds!”

Shu mulled over the explanation for a moment, silently wondering how Saegusa and Ran could've evolved while he was gone. “You've mentioned Freebirds before,” he said eventually. “Who are they? I believe you said Oukawa is affiliated with them.”

Mika flushed. “Aah, sorry, I never told you. You remember when Rinne Amagi left?”

Anger gripped Shu's heart, even as he gave a tight nod. Of course he did. He'd privately resolved to stay in Japan until the Crazy:B situation was resolved. Even then, he would've done everything in his power to protect Mika from the elder Amagi. He'd breathed a sigh of relief when the man left.

“Well, he took Shiina with him, so their unit kinda fell apart. Kohaku said he struggled with idol work for a long time. But Crazy:B never officially disbanded. Last year, they rebranded as Freebirds! They took Hakaze as their third member, too!”

Hm. At least Hakaze hadn't been left out in the cold after UNDEAD's disbanding. Shu was hesitant at best at the idea of a rebranded Crazy:B, but Mika hadn't voiced any complaints about them, and he seemed close to Oukawa. Shu would accept his word.

One last question, then. The most pressing one of all, one he wasn't even sure he wanted an answer to.

“And Tenshouin?”

A beat.

“He's gone,” Mika said carefully, and relief nearly drowned Shu where he stood. “I don't think he's dead. But fine moved on. It's Hibiki leadin' 'em now.”

Shu took a deep breath, blew it out, and realized that he no longer felt so sick. He'd been terrified to return and see Tenshouin's smiling face still gazing down t him from the top of ES's pecking order. Who was to say Tenshouin wouldn't have come after him – and Mika – during ES's next crisis?

But... the emperor was gone. So was Hasumi, apparently, and suddenly, Shu wondered if there had been a connection between Tenshouin's departure and AKATSUKI’s disbanding. Well, it didn't matter.

A new chance. A fresh start.

The elevator doors slid open with a cheerful ding, and Shu's mind went blank. Mika trotted into the COS PRO offices without missing a beat, and only Shu's last shred of self-control forced his body after the shorter man. Most conference rooms were empty; who would be holding a meeting at 4:30 P.M. on a Thursday afternoon? One wasn't, though, and that was Mika's target. Shu followed silently. The numbness was seeping into his hands again.

Anzu waited inside, and she looked up as Mika opened the door. Shu blinked, startled despite himself. Anzu certainly looked her part now. Her hair was neatly tied back, and experience lined her face, just enough to set an edge of steel to her gaze. However, the smile was as bright and open as ever.

Curious how time changed people.

“Good afternoon, Producer,” Shu greeted quietly, settling at Mika's shoulder and taking comfort from the warmth the shorter man exuded. “I'm sure you've expedited this process. I appreciate your efforts.”

A thousand emotions flickered through Anzu's eyes, too quickly to identify, and Shu almost cracked a wry smile. He'd have to apologize for how he'd treated her, too. In his defense, she had been an overworked teenager who'd focused on the idols who needed the most help. Valkyrie, stubbornly self-sufficient as they'd always been, had never received the benefits of her work.

Still, that didn't excuse him.

Anzu finally settled on a warm smile, and with a deep inhale, she placed her tablet on the table and slid it toward them.

“It was my pleasure! The producers at COS PRO are thrilled to have Valkyrie back in action. Monarch's L$ has been transferred to your joint account, and I've split the administrative rights. Itsuki, you'll still be the leader in name, but you and Mika will share authority. It's just a technicality, so the system won't crash.”

A bit of the weight lifted from Shu's shoulders. Good. He'd made that deal with Mika back in Paris; he refused to reform unless they were both in control.

“There's no way to directly transfer Monarch's success, but you'll receive his high standing. When we announce that Monarch has stepped down, we'll follow it up with Valkyrie's revival. I'm sure the fans will figure it out. All we need to finalize it is your signatures. And don't worry; this is the personal contract you submitted to the COS PRO producers a few days ago. You can review it first if you want.”

Anzu produced a stylus from her slacks' pocket and offered it.

This was it.

Mika instantly plucked the stylus from Anzu's fingers and scrawled his name across the top line. (Well, “scrawl” wasn't the right word; his signature swooped and curved with surprising grace.) The shorter man's eagerness shoved Shu's body into action, and he took the stylus from Mika with shaking hands. His brain still screamed bloody murder, but Shu had decided, and he wouldn't back down now.

He signed his name.

“It's done,” Anzu announced, and she took the tablet and stylus with a broad grin. “Welcome back, Valkyrie.”

Thank you, Shu wanted to say. Nothing came out. He'd already sunk into a haze of adrenaline and disbelief; he couldn't think; he could barely breathe. Mika was thanking Anzu, and that had to be enough. When a warm hand wrapped around Shu's wrist, he willingly let himself be led. He probably couldn't walk straight, anyway.

Valkyrie was back.

And suddenly, he was terrified.

What if the spell broke? What if their relationship only worked overseas, away from Shu's mistakes and the tearstains on their old costumes, the memories and people roaming these halls? He hadn't run into Nazuna yet, and Mika carefully avoided the topic, but it would happen. Something would break; the best things always broke apart in Shu's hands.

Stop it.

The command rang so clearly that Shu flinched. Mademoiselle hadn't sounded so loud in a long time.

You want this, and he does, too. You will be fine.

Such a simple sentiment. So difficult to believe.

If you were so willing to trust him before, can you not do the same now? Mika knows how to handle you.

Shu exhaled softly. Right. They could support each other. Their therapists had even collaborated as best they could with the language barrier to create the most effective joint exercises. Shu sometimes forgot that Mika had done his own time in therapy and worked through his own issues.

Exactly. All those memories you made in France – you'll make more here. You can share your life with him, doing what you love. Isn't that what you've wanted all along?

God. Shu hadn't even thought about that.

Have some faith. Your life is only just starting.

And Mademoiselle said it with such conviction and genuine encouragement that Shu somehow found the strength to shake off his fears. He had no delusions about an easy path ahead; life was never so linear or kind. But... for once, the future looked bright.

Hm! You see? You ought to have more faith in me, too.

Her giggle almost instantly faded into a whisper-quiet brush that Shu was used to. But her warmth lingered. Shu turned to Mika and found the shorter man bouncing on his heels, staring through the elevator doors and into the future with a delighted grin. He was radiant in his glee, his face alight, and Shu swallowed roughly. Oh, it was so dangerous to have his muse within reach.

But he wouldn't give it up for anything. Mika Kagehira had saved his life, and for the first time, Shu could confidently call him his best friend – whether or not the sentiment was returned.

It was a blessing, he thought, to love an angel.

“I know it's too late for doubts,” Shu noted absently, and mismatched eyes flicked to him, “but are you sure you're willing to give up Monarch? Your success is immeasurable.”

Mika gaped at him. Shu barely resisted the urge to reach out and close the shorter man's mouth with a finger.

“I'll be successful no matter where I am!” Mika protested after a beat, just on the playful side of indignant, and it warmed Shu's chest. “I told you, Monarch was done a long time ago. I got tired. We're Valkyrie, and I don't wanna be anythin' else. You're stuck with me.”

Shu clicked his tongue. “It's a relief to hear my sentiments are shared. We did already sign.”

That earned a slap to the arm and a drawn-out whine, and Shu ducked his head to hide a lovestruck smile. Thankfully, Mika's phone chose that moment to ring. Shu was almost grateful to whoever had interrupted their moment; it gave him precious seconds to recompose himself.

You aren't good for my heart, my dear Kagehira.

“Hey, Kuro,” Mika chirped, oblivious. “We're done up here! Can you still- ah, thank you so much. You're really helpin' us out. Yeah, be right there.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone with a smile. “I asked Kuro if he could help us design our new outfits,” he explained at Shu's inquisitive glance. “Since I figure we'll need an outside. That's why he found you earlier.”

Mika hadn't asked if he could invite Kuro – he simply did it.

And the knot in Shu's chest finally unraveled.

When they reached the lobby, no one paid them any more attention than before. And yet, the world seemed brighter. Shu looked around with a wonder he was almost ashamed to admit to, taking in the hustle and bustle of idol life, watching people rush to their jobs or chat with their friends.

Had ES always been so full of life, Shu wondered, and he'd ignored it?

Maybe it had something to do with the beautiful man walking at his shoulder.

True to his word, when Shu and Mika returned to the design studio, Kuro was still at Shu's desk. The taller man glanced up at their approach, and a warm smile spread across his face. Shu wanted to scowl and turn away (what expression could he possibly be wearing that warranted such a smile?), but the slow, content beating of his heart left no room for embarrassment.

Then Shu noticed the outfit spread across the desk, and his heart leaped into his throat. He hurried the last few steps, his fingers trembling with anticipation, and Kuro dutifully moved out of the way.

For three years, Shu had watched Mika glide across stages around Tokyo, Monarch's costume accentuating his ethereal beauty. He'd never even entertained the hope of seeing it, but here it sat, in all its intricate delicacy. Shu shuddered to think how long it'd taken to design the side panels; each was so carefully stitched that the texture looked organic. It was two different fabrics, clearly, but-

Wait, Mika was here, only a few steps behind him. He could ask questions.

“Did you do this all yourself?” Shu called over his shoulder. No reply. He twisted and found Mika hovering nearby, his cheeks bright red. “What are you doing?” Shu asked, bewildered.

Mika coughed, and his blush somehow worsened. “Sorry,” he mumbled, joining Shu at the desk. “Yeah, uh- I made it myself. I repaired it whenever somethin' broke, too, so all the handiwork is me.”

Shu shook his head in disbelief. “It's stunning. The iridescent effect on the tails-” Shu ran a reverent hand over the opaque fabric coiled around the costume's shoulders. “I've never seen anything like it,” he admitted. “Its effect on video is exceptional as well. I regret sentencing this marvel of creation to the storage room.”

The shorter man said nothing. He'd stiffened a little, but his posture and furious blush were directly at odds with the uneven smile tugging at his mouth. On almost any other occasion, Shu would've stopped to question Mika's odd behavior. But right now, he was buzzing with ideas. They obviously couldn't reuse Monarch's outfit or the old Valkyrie outfits. So-

Oh, right, he had companions with him. Shu should probably think aloud.

“I'm considering a black base,” he said, leaning around Kuro to grab a bolt from the shelves. “Monarch shouldn't be forgotten so quickly, and a visual similarity will help his fans adapt to the change more quickly. I should be joining him, not overpowering him.”

Kuro glanced at Mika, and amusement flickered through his eyes. (What was Shu missing here?) Then he turned to Shu, and he was all business. “That makes sense,” he agreed slowly. “Black is easily paired with other colors as well. You can add whatever you'd like.”

“I don't-” Mika's voice came out a little higher than usual, but he hurriedly cleared his throat and pressed against Shu's shoulder. “I don't want the iridescence anymore,” he said firmly. “Or the butterfly motif. I was thinkin' we could pull from our old outfits, though. Er, not the old Valkyrie steampunk costumes. Somethin' more modern.”

Shu raised his eyebrows. “Tired of corsets?” he asked archly.

Mika flushed, but he still smiled. “They hurt after a few hours, and you know it,” he muttered, bumping Shu's shoulder just hard enough to unbalance him. Shu snorted and jostled Mika in return. “We can mix modern and Valkyrie's old style, right? Somethin' in between.”

He had a point. After all, that was the operative word for all of this: balance. Shared power.

“Well, then-” Kuro rose from his chair and offered a fierce grin. “I'll go dig out Valkyrie's old outfits. There must be something we can use.”

For three years, Shu had been stuck in a vacuum, working only with himself and shutting out the other creatives who'd tried to force their way into his art. Looking back on it, Shu realized that he'd been so terrified of losing himself that he'd refused any possible inference. No wonder he'd never felt content in Paris.

And yet, spreading materials over two desks in ES's design studio, bickering with Mika as they bumped into each other, asking Kuro to pass him materials or tools, Shu knew he couldn't have found the warmth in his chest anywhere else. It was unique to the idol industry – to the people he was with. Mika and Kuro had an easy relationship, and Shu was drawn into the atmosphere. It was... nice.

The black base made Shu's stomach turn at first (too close to those memories. Too close to his fears), but as they added more details, the similarities faded. A black shirt with loose sleeves, they decided, to maintain Monarch's elegance. Black pants, and the knee-high boots Shu and Mika had always shared an affinity for. It had potential, undoubtedly, but missed something Shu couldn't put his finger on.

Kuro identified it first.

“Color,” he announced. “You're missing vibrancy.”

An unreadable expression flickered across Mika's face. It was gone before Shu could question it, and suddenly, the shorter man leaned around him, grabbing two bolts of fabric and tossing them onto the desk.

Gold and purple.

Apprehension twisted Shu's stomach. Gold strayed too close to Valkyrie, and purple had always been Monarch's design. Granted, it had been iridescent purple rather than the deep shade Mika had chosen, but still.

Then Shu met Mika's expectant gaze, and realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, sending a jitter down his spine. Mismatched eyes... brilliant blue and vibrant amber. Slowly, he turned to his right, finding his own eyes in the nearest mirror – the same rich purple Mika had picked, almost to the exact shade.

“They're excellent complements,” Kuro decided, which didn't help Shu's internal meltdown. “What do you think, Shu?”

He didn't look at Mika again. If he did, his heart would burst.

“We can try it,” he muttered.

As soon as Mika found a golden vest tucked away in the studio's “scraps” closet, Shu knew he was powerless to resist. The style was perfect for the other Valkyrie, sleek, graceful, and just a bit otherworldly. When Mika tried a few experimental spins to ensure the vest wouldn't impede his movement, Shu ducked his head. His heart did not get the memo and continued to skip along in a perilous rhythm of adoration.

He thought he saw Kuro shoot him a curious look as Shu straightened, silently reassembling his aching heart, but the expression instantly varnished. For the sake of his sanity, Shu decided to believe that his secret was still safe.

Two hours slipped past like sand through his fingers. When Shu stepped back from the desk, pride flared in his chest. Even his cramping fingers and the crick in his neck couldn't dim his excitement.

His stomach growled, and the magic dimmed a little.

“I'm starvin',” Mika mumbled from where he'd stretched himself out over a third desk. He pulled his phone from his pocket and absently tapped the screen. “Eh, what do y'all want?”

“Pick whatever you'd like,” Shu said, and Mika nodded dutifully. They often split meals when Shu couldn't finish a whole serving.

Kuro waved a hand. “Nothing for me. I'm leaving soon, so I'll eat at home.”

Mika nodded again and put his phone to his ear, trailing off into a quiet mutter. Shu didn't bother listening; Mika knew his tastes and would pick something acceptable. Even if the food was bland, Shu didn't mind.

“Shu.”

He looked up, curious at Kuro's suddenly serious tone.

“The Monarch earring,” the taller man said slowly, and he glanced at Mika, who still wore the black and purple butterfly on his right ear. “Did you make it?”

Ha. Trust Kuro to notice the tells of Shu's craftsmanship.

“Yes,” Shu murmured. He tried to keep his gaze from Mika, but, as always, he couldn't. The shorter man was magnetic, every part of him. “Before I left for France. It was a parting gift.”

“Hm.”

There was an entire story in that noise, and someday, Shu would have to ask what Kuro had seen – why Mika had kept the earring yet hidden the fact that he wore it daily. Why Mika had made the earring part of Monarch's outfit during the debut of Ice Wine..

Another day, though. Because Kuro's thoughtful gaze returned to their half-finished outfit, and Mika rejoined them a moment later, pressing against Shu's shoulder.

“Yeah,” his muse decided. “This is a good start.”

Shu had to agree. With Mika's strengthened creative instincts and Kuro's feedback, they'd assembled something reminiscent of Monarch and their former selves while still being... new.

The black shirt and pants, with knee-high boots, were covered in scraps of potential accents and patterns. The focal points were, of course, the vests: gold for Mika and dark purple for Shu. Accents of the opposite color would highlight each other's outfits once two costumes had been assembled. Both uniforms would be intricate this time; gone were the days that Shu had the more ornate design.

Sitting above the scraps of fabric and loose stitches was a piece of sketchbook paper. Mika had scribbled out the design, and somehow, Shu couldn't imagine anything more fitting for a new motif.

A metallic heart, split into two halves – purple and gold – shattered around the edges yet glittering like a star.

“I like it,” Kuro said simply, crossing his arms.

Shu glanced over. Mika was already looking at him, mismatched eyes burning with adoration, a dangerously fond smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. When Shu met his gaze, Mika pressed more solidly against his shoulder. It didn't even seem like a conscious choice.

No one could know. No one would know, either, because Shu had lost his chance to love Mika, and this beautiful life was his personal miracle. He knew better than to ask for more.

This second chance had to be enough.

“It needs more work,” Shu muttered, and Mika bobbed his head. “But it is a suitable beginning.”

Kuro smiled faintly. “'Suitable.' Well, as long as you two like it.”

Mika's warmth crept into Shu's body at every point of contact, threatening to sink them into waking bliss. The shorter man still radiated glee and pride, and for the first time, Shu could truly partake in it with him. They had made this. They... were Valkyrie.

On an urge Shu couldn't contain, he reached down and took Mika's hand, squeezing tightly. “I do,” he murmured.

He could almost hear Mika's beaming smile. “I do, too.”

Chapter Text

Aching muscles was such a daily occurrence that Mika was starting to think soreness was his natural state. It probably shouldn't have been that way for an idol of his caliber, which was why he was currently flat against the floor, his legs out in a perfect line. The position ached a little, but in just the right way to remind Mika of his humanity.

Once, he'd been as meticulous about his stretching routine as the man who'd demanded it from him. Admitting that he'd forgotten almost everything from those practices had sparked an involuntary flicker of shame in his chest. Shu's flabbergasted expression had made it easier to bear, as had the taller man's melodramatic sigh.

Rewriting the routine had been good for Mika, too, with Shu pausing every so often to ensure his comfort.

Mika straightened with a quiet sigh, shaking his legs and absently pressing his fingers into still-tense muscles. With everything he and Shu had accomplished in the past week, the grounding mindlessness of his stretching routine was a blessed reprieve. They'd tackled everything from administrative business to songwriting to revisions. After all of it, Mika still felt like he was catching his breath.

But he was happier than he'd been in years. He knew that for sure. Mika was lighter, healthier, and better rested – then again, with all the hours they'd been pouring into preparations, maybe not rested.

I still miss maintenance. I feel stiff.

The thought drifted through Mika's head for a few moments, lingering, calling up scenes from years past. Then, with a jolt, he realized that an all-too-familiar blush was tinging his cheeks, and he hurriedly shook the memories away. They didn't truly leave, of course – they never did. But Mika had spent three years pretending he was content as a solo unit and ignored his equally stubborn crush even longer. What was one more self-deception?

...huh. He really had to make another appointment with his therapist.

Mika sighed and straightened his legs, sinking into the next stretch. He squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment, relishing the ache.

“I know that's supposed to be relaxing, but I don't think it is for you. Mika, take a break. You've been working all day.”

They both knew that he'd always worked himself to the bone, and stopping to stretch and protect his muscles was a substantial step up from years past. But Arashi always strived for better (something Mika respected about her), so he glanced at her and offered a bright smile. “I'm fine,” he promised, slowly releasing the stretch. “I ate breakfast and everythin'.”

“Ha! Since when do you remember to eat?” That was Kohaku, perched on the table Arashi leaned against, his back pressed against the wall. Mika shot him a slightly hurt look, and the shorter man narrowed his eyes. “Don't tell me Itsuki's cookin' for you.”

Mika inhaled to protest. Nothing came out.

Kohaku snorted. “You're hopeless.”

“I'm fine!” Mika repeated indignantly, tucking his legs beneath him. “And I'm only workin' until Shu gets back with lunch. I'll stop once he's here.”

“He'll probably work you through it,” Kohaku grumbled.

“D'you you really think that's gonna happen?”

Mika didn't mean for his voice to come out so exasperated, but it did, and Kohaku instantly stilled. His frown persisted, so Mika let him think. Kohaku was slow to change, even if all the evidence was before him, especially if his friends were involved. Mika had always admired that about him, too – even if, in this case, his worries were unfounded.

Eventually, Kohaku looked away with a quiet “tsk.” “You're hopeless,” he repeated, a little more petulantly.

Arashi rolled her eyes with a silent sigh and leaned over, lightly smacking the shorter man's arm. “Come on, Haku,” she chided, blatantly ignoring his startled yelp. “Why are you complaining about Mika taking care of himself?”

“I ain't complainin' 'bout that!” Kohaku protested. “I'm just sayin' that Itsuki spoils him! Does anyone in Knights cook for you?”

“Mm...” Arashi shot Mika a knowing look. “Maybe you're right.”

Mika jutted out his bottom lip, but try as he might, he couldn't refute the accusation. Shu was spoiling him, and Mika cherished every second of it. The taller man often woke earlier than him since he'd seemingly trained himself to need fewer hours of sleep, so he simply made two servings. The past week had seen them eating breakfast together every morning, Mika sitting at the table and Shu leaning against the counter. Shu's mere presence was achingly comforting.

Mika had never expected living with Shu to be a challenge, but he'd never realized how good it would be for him.

His heart skipped a few more lovesick beats, and he barely stifled a dopey smile. Something must've poked out, though, because a knowing glint entered Kohaku's gaze, and Mika's haze evaporated. The younger man eyed him for a moment, then drawled,

“Well, you're finally filling out. Itsuki must be magic, huh?”

Even in a room of his closest friends, fear lanced Mika's heart, pinning it to his ribcage. He hurriedly wrestled down the inane urge to slap a hand over Kohaku's mouth and keep his secret unspoken. It wasn't a fair or reasonable reaction – Mika trusted Kohaku with his life – but the younger man was the only one he'd told about his hopeless crush. Ideally, no one would've ever known, but Kohaku had called in a favor Mika owed him in the form of a question: was he romantically interested in Shu Itsuki?

In retrospect, Kohaku had probably just been trying to protect him. The younger man had cornered Mika the day he'd announced to his friends that Shu was returning to Japan. No wonder Kohaku had been so standoffish when first meeting Shu.

A heavy sigh suddenly split the air, startling Mika from his thoughts. He glanced at the last occupant of the room, who'd been oddly quiet since his arrival.

Between Mika's constant busyness and Ra*bits' new gig, he'd barely seen Nazuna all week. They'd texted each other daily, as always, swapping stories about work, but in person, Nazuna looked... worn out. It wasn't a physical ailment; the shorter man's cheeks were flushed with life, his light hair was washed and soft, and he'd put on a bit of muscle thanks to years of being an idol. But his pale red eyes now betrayed an all-consuming hollowness, and worry flooded Mika's gut.

“I know you're stressed,” Nazuna murmured, crossing his arms, “but you've gotta rest, Mika. Have you been sleeping enough? Can you promise you're eating right?”

“Of course he is,” Kohaku interjected with a look somewhere between irritated and amused. “He's got someone cookin' for him.”

We take turns, Mika wanted to protest, but he decided against it; humoring Kohaku only made him more insufferable. Instead, he turned to face Nazuna, and his stomach twisted even more at his brother's contemplative frown. “I've been sleepin' and eating',” he assured. “I promise.”

Nazuna's frown only deepened. “Isn't the Live tomorrow?”

His brother was probably trying to point out that, for the past three years, Mika had spent days leading up to a big Live in a state of frantic stress. He'd pushed his body to its limits and crashed as soon as the event was over. But the concern washed over Mika's head as his heartbeat picked up again, hurried along by excitement and adrenaline.

Years as Monarch had taught him that he could stand by himself – he'd sold out venues before, after all – so he wasn't afraid anymore. But finally, finally, Mika would perform as Valkyrie again. He and Shu would get on stage and deliver the best damn revival Live ever. Even then, the splash Valkyrie's unannounced return would make was nothing compared to the unfiltered glee lighting up every corner of Mika's heart.

The past week had been crammed with choreography, costume design, and overseeing their set's construction. Mika loved all of it. He loved seeing Shu come back to life in a blaze of passion and creative genius. He'd been dragged along by cold hands and Shu's boundless energy, and every time those wild eyes had turned to him, Mika had willingly followed him into the fervor.

Yes, the Live was tomorrow. And for the first time in his life, Mika couldn't wait.

Suddenly, he realized that he'd been quiet too long and hurriedly refocused on the present. Arashi and Kohaku were watching him amusedly – of course they weren't worried; they'd seen Shu and Mika at work – but Nazuna had paled. His crossed arms had tightened over his chest, almost as if he were trying to protect himself, and he didn't quite meet Mika's gaze.

Mika hated it.

“I'm fine, Nii,” he murmured, clambering to his feet. He crossed the practice room in a few quick steps and gently took the shorter man's hands. “Really. I've got someone in my apartment now, lookin' out for me. I'm ready for tomorrow.”

Nazuna said nothing. His gaze hovered somewhere between their feet, and all Mika could do was squeeze his brother's hands as reassuringly as he could. For all Nazuna's pure joy and perceived innocent, he could be unbearably stubborn at times. Or maybe Mika, as his surrogate brother, was the only one who received the full brunt of that stubbornness.

“I keep forgetting about that,” Nazuna confessed eventually, and he looked up, a faint smile touching his face. “That Shu is staying with you. But... if you're happy, I'm happy. You do look better than you have in a while,” he admitted. “You were always so pale before Monarch performances.”

Nazuna lifted a hand towards Mika's face, then froze, hesitation and uncertainty flashing through his eyes. Mika didn't understand why, so he simply leaned down and pressed his cheek into his brother's hand. The gloom immediately cleared from Nazuna's eyes – but that hollowness lingered. As soon as the Live was over, Mika would sit Nazuna down and force him to talk about whatever was bothering him. Maybe the work Ra*bits had picked up was more complicated than they'd anticipated.

A dull thump came from behind them, followed by Kohaku's strangled grant.

“You see?” Arashi sighed, and Mika turned in time to see Kohaku's indignant scowl. “That is how you worry for someone.”

“I didn't know there was a right and wrong way,” the younger man griped, rubbing at his side. Mika couldn't help but pull away from Nazuna and join the fray, poking Kohaku where Arashi had probably elbowed him. The younger man glared at him. “Itsuki can't save you, you know.”

“I don't need him for everythin',” Mika said, affronted, and Kohaku scoffed.

“Naw, but you want him around.”

Before Mika had to make the very perilous decision between letting that comment slide and pouncing on Kohaku where he sat, the door swung open. Shu stepped inside with a large plastic bag in hand, his jacket fluttering behind him. It was so dramatic and ethereal and beautifully mundane that Mika had to clamp down on a lopsided smile. Gods, the man was another breed.

“Hopeless,” Kohaku hissed. Mika ignored him.

“They didn't have the salad you wanted, Arashi,” Shu called over his shoulder, “so I went with your second option.”

“That's okay,” Arashi said brightly. “Thank you for picking up my order.”

Kohaku swung himself off the table and landed next to Arashi, eyeing the bag dangling in Shu's hand. “What 'bout me?” he protested. His played-up ire was significantly dimmed by the mischief glimmering in his eyes. “I ordered somethin', too!”

Shu didn't even turn. “I told you to choose a restaurant nearby. Mika, has Anzu returned the setlist?”

“Right after you left,” Mika reported, and he shuffled over to the table, hovering at the taller man's shoulder. “She said our costumes are gonna be delivered to the dressing room tonight, too. If you want, we can visit the venue later and make sure everythin' looks right.”

“No, I'd rather do that tomorrow,” Shu mused. He pulled a yogurt cup from the bag and absently picked at the peel as he spoke. “I need more sleep.”

Mika grinned. “Four hours ain't gonna be enough?” Shu snorted, and somehow, it felt like a victory. “Do you want me to wake you up?”

“Please. The stadium is half an hour away, yes?”

“Mhm!”

“We should have time for breakfast, then.”

Shu finally looked up, probably to tell Arashi to get her food, then stiffened. Mika followed his gaze curiously, and his heart seized when he realized that Nazuna had frozen, too. He whipped around in time to see fear flash through Shu's eyes. His easy demeanor was gone, leaving nothing behind except the long nights they'd spent tackling Valkyrie's past and the guilt Shu had whispered to him through tear-stained hands.

Nazuna still hadn't moved. He was motionless and blank, so much like a doll that unease crept up Mika's spine. He'd thought his brother had processed their shared history – Nazuna had always been the most in tune with his emotions of the three of them. But Mika had never asked, so...

Later. Right now, he had to keep Shu from bolting, because the taller man would kick himself forever if he fled.

“Thanks for grabbin' lunch,” Mika said a bit too loudly, bumping Shu's shoulder as he reached for the bag. “There weren't any problems with my order, right?”

Shu's gaze snapped to him, panic shining bright in dark eyes, and Mika's chest constricted. Even when they'd first met, Shu's eyes had been the windows to his brilliant mind. It had just taken Mika a few years to figure out how to see through the stained glass, to peer beyond the shutters constantly shut tight. You're okay, he thought and offered a small smile. This ain't gonna last.

Dark purple eyes bored into him, pinning him in place. Some probably would've found it an oppressive weight. Mika wanted it – it was comforting to have Shu's full attention. Even Arashi could be flighty sometimes, darting from one thought to the next and leaving Mika a few steps behind. But amid his creations, Shu grabbed Mika's hand and hauled him along, roping him into every step of the process. He was no longer an afterthought.

So I won't let you be one, either, Mika thought, a bit more stubbornly, and he gripped Shu's shoulder gently. It was the most he could do.

Slowly, the panic drained from the taller man's body. He sucked a silent breath, then brushed Mika's hand away. His touch lingered, though, pressing their fingers together for a moment longer than he had to – the most he could reciprocate.

“No complications,” Shu agreed. His voice was ragged at the edges, but Mika knew from experience that it would be gone in seconds; Shu was an excellent actor. Sure enough, when the taller man turned to their companions, his face was passive, and his voice came out steady. “Nazuna, do you want anything? I didn't know you'd be here, but Arashi ordered mochi. I'm sure she'd be willing to share.”

Arashi yelped and hurried over to them with hands outstretched. “Don't give away my food!” she gasped, cradling the bag. “I know you're covering this one, but have some decorum, Shu!”

“It's technically his since you ain't payin' him back,” Mika pitched it brightly. “Can I have my sandwich?”

Arashi stared at him, appalled. “Mika! Shu, look what you've done! You've turned him against me!”

To Mika's utter delight, Shu simply shouldered Arashi out of the way and leaned his hip against the table, swaying close. He radiated something between smugness and possessiveness (though the latter was probably just Mika's feelings talking), and Mika couldn't stifle a pleased grin.

“Oh, fine,” Arashi sighed. She reluctantly produced Mika's sandwich from the bag, and he happily took the parcel.

“What else did you expect?” At some point during their scuffle, Kohaku had joined them and now stood at Arashi's shoulder, stealthily sneaking a mochi from the bag. Mika decided against calling him out on it. “He flew out to Paris every month,” the shorter man added, popping the mochi into his mouth. “He's more loyal than I would've been.”

“'Not every month,” Shu corrected archly. “And I have no doubt he is.”

Kohaku made a noise of protest, Arashi laughed, ignoring the dirty look Kohaku threw her, and Mika felt... warm. Somehow, this little slice of paradise had become his new normal: the bickering, the laughter, even Shu's slight smile. Mika had never dared to hope that Shu would get along with his friends, but... the taller man always found new ways to surprise him.

“I... I'm fine. Thank you. I have to get going.”

Oh, no. Mika whipped around, his little bubble of joy shattering, and he only caught sight of Nazuna's farewell wave as he slipped out the door.

Things had been okay before Shu had left, but now, Mika had no idea how Nazuna was doing. He'd never even stopped to consider that his brother might conceal his feelings to save Mika's, and the thought made his stomach churn. He refused to let Nazuna suffer alone. Even if it was Valkyrie's revival that was bothering him so much, Mika would hear him out – the most important part was that they stuck together.

“I'll be right back,” Mika announced, setting his sandwich aside and hurrying after his brother. Shu and Arashi said nothing (they weren't blind, after all), but Kohaku followed him out the door. At his curious look, the shorter man shrugged.

“I'll need company, and you have a Live tomorrow. Freebirds ain't doin' anythin' this week.”

Annoying as all hell, but loyal to a fault when it counted. Mika jostled Kohaku's shoulder in thanks, then took off down the hallway with the shorter man at his heels.

Friday afternoons were always busy at ES; the idols still in school were released from their classes and met up with their units, and the graduates prepping for weekend Lives bustled around. In the hustle of humanity, Nazuna had seemingly vanished. With each unsuccessful search, frustration and anxiousness built in Mika's chest. He and Kohaku swept every corridor until they finally reached a nearby common room and paused to regroup.

“Nazuna,” Mika mumbled, his heart squeezing with each beat, “where'd you go?”

Kohaku said nothing – neither of them had an answer. The common room was packed with idols lingering around the game tables or grabbing snacks from the kitchenette, but Nazuna was nowhere to be seen. Mika pressed his nails into his palm and tried not to panic.

“Did you text him yet?” Kohaku suggested. Mika frantically fumbled his phone from his pocket, and Kohaku nodded curtly. “Do that and wait here. I'll keep lookin'.”

The shorter man darted off before Mika could even agree, so he opened Hold-hands and tapped on his conversations with Nazuna. They'd last spoken only an hour ago, when Nazuna had asked if Mika was at ES.

Mika: where'd u go?

Mika: i'm worried about u nii

Nothing. The indicator next to Nazuna's name didn't light up, and Mika clenched his phone, squeezing his eyes shut with it. Gods, he'd known Nazuna was off but feared pushing the subject. Should he have tried harder? Or did Nazuna just need space? Why, after so long, did his brother still not trust him with stuff like this?!

Then a voice echoed from his left. It was smooth and silky, and by a stretch of the imagination, one might label it as a poor impression of Rei Sakuma. The voice was too deep, though, and laced with a cruelty Sakuma had never possessed.

“Ha! That was a shit shot, Masa. I'll let you try again if you think you can do any better.”

Slowly, Mika turned, his heart hanging motionless in his chest. It seemed that the gods did not favor him today because Sachi Amemori, leader of Astaroth, stood next to a nearby pool table, brandishing a cue stick. A fierce grin twisted his face, and pale hair drifted in a nonexistent breeze as he pointed at one of his companions. The other three members of Astaroth clustered across from him, and the middle one, a fair man with long black hair, pressed his lips into a thin, angry line.

Too many nights of backstage harassment flooded Mika's mind. Too many days spent fighting allegations circled his throat, pulling tight the rope of terror and helplessness that'd jerked him around for so long. Mika wanted to be angry, and he was; unconstrained frustration howled in his ears. But with it came the cold terror that always petrified him when facing down Astaroth.

Mika's body lurched into action, and within seconds, he huddled on a couch, nearly folded in two. He couldn't stay here; if Amemori spotted him, who knew how long he'd be held up. But how could Mika escape? The pool table had a view of the entire room.

Gods, he prayed Kohaku hadn't gone too far. With trembling hands, Mika switched to Kohaku's conversation on Hold-hands.

Mika: come back
Mika: astaroth is here

Nothing. Maybe Kohaku had already found Nazuna.

Only one other option, then. Mika switched conversations and started typing.

Mika: help me
Mika: i'm stuck in the common room
Mika: astaroth is

Amemori's raucous laughter suddenly boomed through the room, and panic spiked Mika's heartbeat into a drummer's solo. He abandoned the message and shoved his phone into his pocket, fleeing the common room as fast as he could without drawing attention. Practice rooms lined the hallway beyond, and Mika frantically jiggled their handles as he passed. He quickly found an unlocked one and leaped inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Dim strips of blue light illuminated the floor, revealing a few boxes of props and folding tables. No doubt, this was prep for a unit's rehearsal.

In the darkness, Mika's heart began to slow. The panic receded – shame took its place, drowning him, filling his lungs and summoning hot tears. Mika scrubbed them away fiercely, but the tears still fell. All he could do was bury his face in his hands and muffle his frustrated sobs.

He was pathetic. Three years by himself, and Mika still didn't have the strength to ignore some common thugs. For gods' sakes, he'd endured worse during the War!

But it was different when he was alone. Arashi and the others had done their best to support him, but as a solo unit, the burden of authority had always landed on Mika's shoulders. He had to spend precious time filing the reports; he had to ask Saegusa for help disassembling the smear campaign. Mika had tried everything, and Astaroth still prowled their halls – Amemori still terrorized the industry.

That was the crux of the issue, wasn't it? Mika couldn't take him out. He couldn't prove anything, couldn't fight back.

A knock suddenly pounded against the door, and Mika leaped away, clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle a yelp. The knocking continued, more insistent, and sheer instinct propelled Mika toward the props. By divine grace, he managed not to crack his ankles against any obstacles and stumbled to the folding tables. He paused only to eyeball the space before tucking himself into the gap. It was a tight fit, even for him; Mika was crunched in half, his shoulder digging into the wall.

For just a moment, a flare of indignation and pride scorched his chest. What was he doing, hiding like a child?

Then the door creaked open, and Mika's mind went blank.

“Kagehira?” The voice was as smooth as ever, edged by the condescension of someone who knew he had the upper hand. “Ha, you even managed to hide in here, huh? Won't do you any good, though. I saw you come in here. Trying to get out of a little fun?”

A second later, someone flicked on the lights. Footsteps tapped around, presumably from the other members of Astaroth, followed by the click of the door. Mika's heart hammered in his throat, choking him.

Why had Sakuma left? Why had he disbanded UNDEAD and made room for him?

“You've been quiet, Monarch!” Amemori's voice echoed around the practice room with an orator's trained projection. “Fewer performances, less idol work. Have you finally lost your golden touch? Is it time for the lap dog to follow its master back to France?”

I ain't a dog, Mika wanted to snarl. His frustration – the shame, the anger, the helplessness built up from a year of this treatment – threatened to break through, but his self-preservation instinct begged him to stay put.

“There's rumors floating around that Valkyrie's back in business. Did Itsuki give you his blessing to start over?”

Meaningless words. Insults Mika had endured for years before adopting the mantle of Monarch. Provocation and taunts, negative publicity and underhanded tactics.

Mika was so sick of it.

Footsteps tapped closer to the tables, and when Amemori spoke again, amusement rang in his voice. “If Valkyrie is back, I wonder who it is. Some big shot from the past? Or a newbie you decided to bring to the top? Just how charitable is the beloved Monarch? Or maybe someone paid for your patronage! That's just the kind of thing you'd do, right? Pay people to make you famous?”

How dare he.

For a split second, Mika almost cracked. He almost crawled out of his hiding place, and gods, he could imagine the look on Amemori's face if Mika grabbed the folding table and slammed it into his face. A broken nose was still the kind of publicity he wanted, right?

Then the anger drained away yet again. The bone-deep exhaustion of Amemori's constant nagging seized his muscles tight, and Mika retreated from the man's childishly simple trap. The execution was graceless, but it was lined with steel teeth – he'd stolen his strategies from his predecessor, after all.

What Mika wouldn't do to get Amemori away from him forever. But he couldn't. Because Mika was the one with more popularity, more acclaim, and better relations with the producers and directors of his agency, and even other agencies. Any move he made against Amemori – against Astaroth – would be called an act of unjust cruelty.

Even though Amemori had launched a smear campaign against him that'd required Saegusa's and Kohaku's help to undo. Even though he'd had to institute policies with any producers he worked with that explicitly banned Astaroth from his venues. They'd ruined so many of his costumes and sets, and he'd withdrawn from so many events because the producers “couldn't promise anything.”

Mika didn't have proof, and Rhyth Lin needed a new UNDEAD, so he had to set his jaw and bear it. Amemori was nothing more than a copycat with none of the brains of his hero, but Sakuma's departure had finally given him an opening.

The new Rinne Amagi, who had never realized the meaning before Crazy:B's rebellion.

The door swung open yet again, and Mika tensed. Who was that? Was one of the Astaroth members late to the party? No, Amemori hadn't delivered one of his grandiose greetings. In fact, the Astaroth leader was strangely silent.

Then, in a hiss: “Itsuki?”

Shu. Shu.

“Sachi Amemori, yes? Why are you in my practice room?”

Shu's voice was even, the picture of disinterested politeness, but an edge of fury undercut the words. Mika's heart swelled, relieved and bewildered all at once, and he barely swallowed a hysterical bark of laughter. Shu really was a stellar actor.

“Your practice room?” Amemori's voice had gone cold, all vestiges of sadistic humor gone. “Like I'd believe that. You've been gone for years.”

“Under any other circumstances, I wouldn't tolerate your bullheadedness cutting into my allotted time. However, I acknowledge that I have been away.”

The room fell silent, and Mika could only assume that Shu was showing Amemori the “leader” badge attached to his name on Hold-hands. Another wave of adrenaline washed over him, and Mika shivered, still stuck between crying and laughing. He was dreaming, right? Three years, and he'd never been rescued. Never. Not from the producers he begged for help, not even Saegusa, who couldn't operate outside their agency.

And now... here Shu was.

“A goddamn leader. I don't know who called you back, Itsuki, but they're a fucking idiot. They should know better than to hang onto a relic like you.”

“Your schoolyard taunts are a disgrace to your unit. Leave.”

“What if I don't, huh? I have business in here, too.”

“I will call security and inform them that you are obstructing my reservation, and they will deal with you from there. You falsely believe I am powerless in this situation.”

Another beat. It was heavier, darker, and Mika squeezed his eyes shut.

“You came back for Kagehira, didn't you?” Each word Amemori hissed with venomous, and that nauseating mixture of hatred-terror clogged Mika's throat. “He's the only one stupid enough to think you have anything left to give. But I'm surprised you listened to him. He's been mewling for you this whole time, and it's fucking disgusting.”

It was Amemori's usual spiel, echoing the words thrown around by all the idols who'd thought his trips to Paris were a waste. Their protests boiled down to a distorted blend of surface concern, disdain for Shu, and something that always edged the line of homophobia.

Nothing Mika hadn't heard before.

“Get out.”

Shu's voice hadn't wavered from its cool irritation – but for just a moment, Mika heard hate. He heard all his frustrations reflected back at the world, every incident he'd texted Shu about, and the anger he'd vented into the silence of Paris nights. He heard Shu Itsuki raise his hackles and bare his teeth at Mika's waking nightmare.

Amemori laughed. It was a joyless sound. “Sure. Have fun, Itsuki.”

Footsteps headed out of the room, Amemori's boisterous stomps trailed by the near-silent footfalls of his fellow members. The door clicked shut, and Mika held his breath, waiting, praying.

“Mika?”

The dam broke. Mika scrambled out of his hiding place, slitting his eyes against the harsh overhead lights, his legs as limp as jelly, overwhelmed tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't even have time to be ashamed before a dark silhouette crouched before him. Cool hands cupped his face, and Mika melted into the touch with a silent whine.

“Shu,” he croaked, sluggishly pulling his legs beneath him. “What're you doin' here?”

Mika couldn't see the taller man clearly, not with the spots in his eyes or the lingering tears, but he could make out Shu's expression – pure horror, edged with protectiveness and rage and fear.

“You didn't respond to my messages,” Shu murmured, painfully gentle. His hands dropped to Mika's shoulders and tugged slightly, and Mika went without complaint. He collapsed against the taller man, half curled in his lap, half sprawled across the floor. His legs still weren't responding – had he accidentally cut off circulation? “And you weren't in the common room. So I started checking the rooms.”

“'m sorry.”

A beat. Shu shuddered, and he rested his head against Mika's. His warm breaths drifted over Mika's scalp and made him shiver. “Don't apologize,” the taller man whispered into Mika's hair, his voice tight with rage. “I thought our insolent executives would've learned not to allow common thugs into this industry. A man who brazenly calls himself the new Rinne Amagi is nothing but a threat.”

...huh.

“I never told you about Amemori,” Mika said blearily. “D'you read Saegusa's report?”

Even though his eyesight was still fuzzy (he'd never been good at switching between light and dark conditions, Mika clearly saw Shu's stormy glare. “I did,” the taller man agreed, too quietly. “I messaged him on Hold-hands as soon as Valkyrie was reinstated. I needed to know what Astaroth had done to you.”

Accusations of cheating his fans out of meet-and-greets and merchandise. Paid support in his solo career. Constant harassment since Astaroth's founding. So many costumes and set pieces ruined.

And he wasn't their only target.

“Thank you,” Mika mumbled. He shook his head until his eyesight finally cleared, then carefully propped himself up. They were still on the floor, him sitting between Shu's legs, and it was so reminiscent of their Paris conversations that Mika couldn't help a tired smile. “He usually goes on a lot longer,” he added, and Shu's face twisted with anger.

“Why did your complaints bounce?”

“'cause I don't have 'concrete proof.' Without it, the producers don't care, y'know?” Shu's expression darkened even further, and Mika offered a slightly more real smile. “Don't worry too much. They've never hurt me- I mean, there was that one time, but-” Mika shook his head again. “Thank you for comin' to get me.”

Shu's dark eyes flicked back and forth across his face, and from so close, Mika saw flecks of lighter purple mixed in. He'd never understood how Shu's eyes had gotten darker over time, marking his progression away from the idol industry, but he liked it. The darker shade suited Shu more, he thought.

Kohaku was right. He was hopeless.

“Of course,” Shu murmured eventually. He stood and offered a hand, and Mika gratefully hauled himself to his feet. “Did you find Nazuna?”

Oh, gods, he'd completely forgotten why he'd left. Mika hurriedly fumbled his phone from his pocket, ignoring Shu's others messages and switching to Kohaku's conversation. One new message.

Kohaku: I'm with Nazuna. Keep practicing.

It took a couple of tries to hit the right letters, but Mika managed a short response.

Mika: okay
Mika: thanks

“Kohaku's got him,” Mika reported, and Shu nodded once, the tension draining from his shoulders. Returning to rehearsal seemed a monumental feat (Mika usually went home after a confrontation with Amemori), but he plucked up the strength to tug Shu towards the door. “C'mon. We gotta keep workin'.”

To his surprise, Shu didn't move. In fact, the taller man pulled their joined hands, and Mika stumbled to a stop, bewildered. Shu's gaze was somewhere far away, stormy and melancholy and weighed down by years' worth of pain.

“Mika,” he began carefully, not looking up, “we should talk to Saegusa again. Amemori's behavior constitutes legal action. He trapped you in this room.”

He's never hurt me, Mika wanted to protest. And I've tried. There's no point; Rhyth Lin needs their new UNDEAD. But Shu wouldn't like that answer, and truth be told, Mika hated the situation just as much. Still...

“After the Live,” he urged. “It can wait one more day.”

He didn't mean to plead. But Mika heard the desperate threads in his voice, and he pushed through the shame, silently begging Shu to understand. Amemori was just smart enough to follow in Rinne Amagi's footsteps, and Mika couldn't deal with another smear campaign. Not now. He wanted tomorrow's Live to be completely untouched by the rest of the industry – untouched by the problems he hadn't been able to solve by himself.

Slowly, Shu's expression softened. “Very well,” he murmured, and he led the way out of the practice room.

The walk back to their room felt infinitely longer, dragged out through corridors upon corridors of shame. Mika's only anchor was Shu's hand in his, holding tightly, guiding him between the crowds of people and back toward their little bubble. Arashi, Nazuna, Kohaku – they could only do so much. It was... different, Mika thought, to be cared for after Astaroth's attacks.

He... wasn't alone anymore.

When he blinked again, Mika realized they'd made it back to their practice room, and Shu guided him inside. Arashi still leaned against the table, absently scrolling through her phone – their lunches were abandoned next to her. She looked up at their entry and immediately frowned.

“Astaroth,” Mika mumbled at the unspoken question.

Arashi's good cheer vanished like dew in the sun. She took a step forward, hesitated, then retreated without a word. (She knew him too well, but Mika was grateful for it. He didn't want to hurt her right now.) Instead of asking questions or even offering consolation, Arashi gestured at a small box perched next to the empty bag.

“This came while you were gone,” she explained. “It's labeled to Valkyrie?”

Mika perked up, curious despite himself, and dutifully trotted to Arashi's side. She offered a pair of scissors (Mika decided against asking where she'd found those), so he carefully sliced through the tape and pulled back the flaps.

Inside were two practice uniforms, folded and packed with protective foams. Both were pristine, and Mika's heart leaped into his throat. He stared down at them, dumbstruck, and only remembered how to breathe when Shu reached into the box and pulled out a jacket. It unfolded in a rustle of fabric – black, with a golden heart stitched over the left chest and dark purple accents running along the sleeves, collar, and bottom hem.

Shu met Mika's gaze with a hint of awe. “This one is yours,” he said softly, and Mika took it reverently. Gods, the fabric was so soft. “It's better quality than I expected,” Shu admitted, lifting the other jacket from the box.

“ES give the top-ranked units better practice uniforms,” Arashi pitched in. “A little perk for being popular. Knights received the upgraded ones a few months ago. Didn't you get one, Mika?”

“I don't think I submitted a request,” Mika admitted, only half paying attention to the question. He slipped the jacket on and instantly melted into the soft fabric, burying his hands in the pockets. Shu did the same; though he didn't melt, the lines around his mouth faded. A dark purple heart rested over his chest, and gold lined his sleeves.

He's wearin' my color, Mika thought, dazed.

Shu looked up. Suddenly, he looked a few years younger – as if someone had released part of his burden. “We certainly look official,” he decided dryly.

Arashi laughed, and her enthusiasm was infectious. Mika grinned and zipped it up to his chin, huddling into his new favorite jacket. He'd keep Monarch's old practice uniform, just like he'd kept Valkyrie's, but this... this jacket was going to be worn to threads.

Was it pride for their unit? Excitement for the future? Mika didn't know. All he did know was that, decked out in his new practice uniform, nothing seemed so impossible. Amemori faded into the distance, whatever Nazuna wasn't telling him didn't seem so stifling, and the giddy adrenaline that'd kept Mika going all week seeped back into his veins. He met Shu's gaze and beamed, and the taller man smiled back, unbearably soft.

This was real. They were real.

“Let's get back to rehearsin',” Mika decided, and Arashi immediately pulled her phone from her pocket. Usually, Shu and Mika would've prevented any spectators, but Arashi was a special case, and they needed an outside eye. “Can we run through the setlist from the top?” Mika asked. “But we might have to stop after Last Lament. I wanna make sure the new transition into Epilogue still works with the lighting cues.”

“It will if we increase our speed from the final chorus,” Shu said, already heading for the back corner of the room. “Arashi, if you will.”

She nodded and tapped her phone. “Of course. What's your first song?”

Mika planted his feet and stared into the mirror, out into an audience that had yet to exist. Come tomorrow, he would be back on stage, ready to deliver a show unlike anything Monarch or Valkyrie had ever done. Come tomorrow, everyone would know Valkyrie had returned better than ever. One way or another, Mika would make this the start of their best era.

“Ice Wine,” he said, slightly breathless, and stretched his hand towards an audience of none.

Chapter Text

Shu was going to be sick.

It was karma, really, for the week he'd spent in relative peace. He'd been brash enough to pretend ES was where he belonged, hammering out an entire Live's worth of choreography, revising old Valkyrie and Monarch songs, and changing the Valkyrie uniform again and again. As he and Mika had started and stopped the music, exchanging thoughts in hours-long rehearsals, Shu had been able to ignore his fear.

Not anymore. Even hidden in the stage wings, the roars of Monarch's loyal fans echoed through the venue. It was a packed house, as far as Shu knew – the producers had never said as much, but Monarch was one of the highest-ranked idols in the industry. He always drew a crowd.

Mika had given that fame up for him. For him.

Shu's head spun, and he hurriedly balanced himself against the nearest solid object (a small wooden stool). He could barely stay on his feet. His mind raged, howling a thousand and one objections, his whole body was tense, and oh, god, Shu was going to collapse.

He'd once thrived on this, hadn't he? How had he fallen so far from grace?

Well... it wasn't that Shu was afraid of “failing.” He and Mika had crafted an incredible show, full of new dynamics and performed on a truly breathtaking set. But Shu was afraid of the audience. He feared their reactions. Monarch's fans might protest his return, the way he'd stolen Mika for himself. Yes, the shorter man claimed that most Monarch fans had followed him from Valkyrie, and those that hadn't eventually found their old music. But Shu still wasn't sure if he believed that.

There was a deeper fear, though, buried deep in his chest and lashed tight by the same cowardice that kept Shu in France for three long years. It struggled against its cage, battering Shu's heart, calling up every memory it could as proof that he had to retreat, please, before he messed up yet again.

What if performing was the catalyst? Shu had seen signs of his old habits lurking in the shadows of their rehearsals, and he couldn't risk that anymore. Not with new friends cheering him on throughout the week, not with Mika's beautiful partnership, as delicate as a glass butterfly cradled in his hands. Shu would break it. He always broke it.

He had to leave. If not back to their apartment – Mika's apartment; he couldn't forget that – then back to France, where he couldn't hurt anyone and couldn't be hurt. He-

“Hey, hey.”

Shu's first instinct was of panic (don't let me hurt you), followed by roiling guilt, and he desperately tried to stumble away. But before he could convince his feet to move, warm hands slipped around his wrists, holding him fast. The shorter man looked like a ghost in the wings' shadows, but his touch was firm. Grounding.

Right. Grounding techniques.

With his last shred of self-control, Shu inhaled deeply. Mismatched eyes flickered with approval, and Shu let it out. His pulse slowed. The change was minuscule, merely a single beat of his racing heart. But Shu latched onto it and chased the change, one slow breath at a time. Slowly, his head cleared. The panic receded into the dull throb of adrenaline, and a brilliant smile spread across his companion's face.

“Mika,” Shu murmured.

The shorter man's eyes crinkled at the corners. “I was lookin' all over for you.”

Despite the tension still gripping his muscles tight, Shu managed a wavering smile. “I haven't moved, fool. You should be in position.”

Mika said nothing, but he squeezed Shu's wrists slightly. His touch was gentle as always, but maybe a little chiding, and Shu didn't blame him. They both knew Shu had been on the verge of falling apart.

“We're gonna perform again,” Mika whispered, almost reverently. “We're doin' a Live.”

You see? This is what you've wanted. Go. Retake your stage.

Mademoiselle was there and gone, and with a jolt of guilt, Shu realized he'd accidentally drowned her out in his panic. But at least she'd returned, and she was right, as usual. Shu was almost scared to admit it, but his fear was matched by a yearning that'd consumed him for years.

Deep breath in. Long exhale.

Shu shook off Mika's grip, and the shorter man grinned, pleased. He stepped back and spread his arms, making the sleeves flare.

“How do I look?” Mika asked, still beaming.

Oh, what a dangerous question.

With all the other responsibilities they'd taken on, they'd been forced to design the new Valkyrie outfit, then hand off production to Kuro. Shu trusted his old friend's handiwork, of course (a resolution he'd come to after a very long internal battle), and sure enough, Kuro's work had proved impeccable. But they'd never gotten a chance to try on the finished product. So, when Mika had donned their new uniform in the dressing room, Shu had nearly tripped over a chair.

A fitted golden vest, the same shade as Mika's sparkling eyes, atop a black shirt with sleeves that billowed as he moved. Thin, black metal chains wrapped around his torso, connected to a choker that partially vanished into his collar, and the black sash hanging from his belt swished side to side. Monarch's earring still dangled from Mika's right ear – he'd been adamant, and Shu hadn't had the strength to fight back.

Beautiful, my dear Kagehira. Always so beautiful.

“Like a Valkyrie,” Shu rasped. He winced at how thready his voice was, but, thankfully, Mika didn't question it. The shorter man giggled, quiet yet as infectious as always, and a faint blush colored his cheeks. Shu barely resisted the urge to brush his knuckles against the pink tinge.

The show suddenly didn't seem so terrifying. How could he be afraid with this beautiful creature at his side?

“Kagehira? Kagehira!”

Mika whipped around with a stifled yelp, looking around wildly, and he careened into Shu in the process. He hurriedly grabbed the shorter man's arm to keep them both from falling. A moment later, a woman with “STAFF” emblazoned across her shirt emerged from the corridor.

“There you are,” she said, clearly harried, and pressed a finger to her headset. “I've got Kagehira. Moving to position.” She waved a frantic hand at Mika. “The Live will be starting in five minutes. Please follow me.”

Shu arched an unimpressed eyebrow (to which the shorter man offered a sheepish smile), but he released Mika's arm. The nerves were back, but he wouldn't run now. Not with the promise of something brighter and better waiting just over the horizon.

“I'll see you on stage,” Mika murmured, and all Shu could do was nod.

The other Valkyrie vanished back into the corridor in a swirl of gold and black. The producer followed him, already talking into her headset, and suddenly, Shu was alone in the wings again. No use waiting around. He took one last deep breath, let it out, and headed for the rear of their set.

While designing their revival stage, Shu and Mika had brainstormed hundreds of options. Eventually, they'd turned to Arashi and Kohaku for a fresh pair of eyes, and the end carried each of their styles. A black grand staircase with a small top platform ran down to the stage, adorned with an ornate banister and a painted-on purple and gold carpet. It had been expensive, yes, but undoubtedly worth it.

Like any good set, its escape stairs were carefully concealed in the wings, and Shu took them one silent step at a time.

The crowd's clamor was louder on stage. Their cheers dissolved into a wordless roar of exuberance, and Shu couldn't decide whether he cherished such enthusiasm or desperately wished the crowd would be silent. It was impossible to expect silence from Monarch's audiences, though; Mika had built his fanbase on genuine interactions with his fans.

Such a good person. Such a good idol. Did Shu deserve to stand here, waiting for his turn in the spotlight?

“Itsuki?”

Another producer. Shu recognized the voice as the man who'd helped them earlier in the day. He leaned over the railing with a small wave, and the producer's gaze instantly shot to him. The man nodded and strode off. Most producers appreciated their experience and independence, at least. Shu sighed quietly and turned back to the closed curtains.

The cheering lifted into a crescendo. Mika had to be on stage, then; only he could garner such a reaction. Shu would know. He'd been in that audience so many times, looking on from almost 6,000 miles away.

He knew the choreography by heart. He knew every piece of this show down to the motions of the overhead lights during transitions. But Shu was still shaky. Afraid.

The house lights dimmed, leaving nothing but the glow tape at his feet to mark the edges of the platform. Beyond the curtain, the audience fell silent.

Did Shu deserve this? This stage, this second chance, the title of Valkyrie?

Did he deserve Mika?

In a swell of music, the opening violin notes of Ice Wine soared through the venue, overwhelming in its power and unbearably familiar. Shu's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he was completely numb. His heart hung weightless in his chest, and his lungs stilled.

Maybe it didn't matter what he thought – maybe he was lying to himself, too. Shu had chosen to return, and Mika had desperately expedited the process. Their apartment, their home, their new beginning.

Their Valkyrie.

When Mika began to sing, Shu could've sworn he was floating, encircled by his partner's ethereal voice.

“I converse with a picture that's framed by my bed
I pen a note that I've written too late
Everything, everything comes at a price
And yours is your presence, I fear”

The curtain fluttered aside, and Shu's body lurched forward, compelled by a week of relentless practice. For a single heartbeat, the world stood still.

Shu was on stage again. He stood at the top of the staircase, the burning spotlight trained on him, and the venue raised a collective gasp at his appearance. Adrenaline rushed in his ears, almost louder than the crowd's earlier enthusiasm, and his heart could no longer keep up. Everything, the rush, the joy, his terror and passion, blending into an addictive mess he'd always known was his lifeblood.

At the foot of the stairs, Mika turned. He looked otherworldly under the lights, too pale and too stark, yet his tortured expression was so desperately human that Shu slammed back into his body. The heartbeat ended, and experience took over. The lyrics came easily, as did the slow steps down each stair, and Shu finally allowed himself to sing once again.

Time for Valkyrie to fly.

“This wandering figure in a field of ash
is the forlorn dreamer weighed down by regret
Once the adored, love bloodied and torn
I lament for the hearts led astray”

Mika met him at the bottom, reaching for him with slender fingers. “I pray my words reach you-”

“Yet the winds grow still,” Shu continued, sweeping his arm towards the audience before weaving his voice into Mika's.

“Is this how it goes, ice wine?”

If anyone in the venue was protesting, Shu could no longer hear them. He was wholly captivated by Mika, following his slow circle, dragging his steps, matching the shorter man's graceful movement. It was so easy to fall into their rhythm again, into the push and pull of stage energy. But something had changed, undeniably, and when Mika lifted his voice into the next verse, Shu forgot how to breathe.

“I tell the stories that we never lived”

“I reach for hands that are no longer there,” Shu sang, lifting a hand. Mika spun away, and though he'd seen the move a thousand times in rehearsal, it still hit Shu in the chest like a physical blow. He couldn't quite keep the waver from his voice on their next lines.

“You're already gone, adrift in the wind,
do I say goodbye, ice wine?”

Mika glided across the stage with a grace Shu could never hope to match, but he followed regardless. When the shorter man took his hand, Shu squeezed it tightly, his heart thundering out of control. They'd never done this the first time around. He'd never touched Mika on stage back then, never allowed his partner to lead him forward.

He'd been an idiot.

“My longing and sorrow walk hand in hand
and listen for whispers that you left unsaid”

“But I've waited too long,” Mika mourned, releasing his hand.

“You sing a different song,” Shu murmured, and he stepped onto the first stair.

“Have I lost it all, ice wine?”

A few years ago, it would've been pointless for Shu to perform this song. He couldn't have been vulnerable enough for Monarch's emotional lyrics or even understood the sentiments. God, he understood now. Shu poured every damned emotion simmering in his chest, everything he'd bottled up during his years away from Japan, into his voice, and he finally allowed Mika to see what he'd hidden away for so long.

“I'm always so close to losing you, I fear!”

“If I blink, the snow will take you, and I'll be left alone!”

Mika sounded tortured, and when Shu blinked, silent tears slid down his cheeks. I'm so sorry, my dear Kagehira. I'll never leave you again.

“All I have are memories, melting in my hands,” he continued, and he took Mika's hands as he descended.

“Is it too much to ask for more, ice wine?”

“Can I ask for more, ice wine?”

This is everything that is left of me, Mika, Shu thought, and he tipped his face back to the scorching spotlight. Everything I have left to give. Is this enough for you?

“Can I ask for more, ice wine?”

Yes, Mika's eyes said, burning with adoration.

“Can I ask for more-?”

The final notes of Ice Wine filled the venue in a wordless, mournful plea, and Shu and Mika reached out, straining for something Shu could feel. Slowly, the violin's cry faded into silence. Shu panted for breath, his body on fire, still blinking tears from his eyes. Mika shuddered next to him, and his hand visibly trembled.

Then the venue erupted into thunderous applause.

Shu blinked. “Applause” didn't do it justice; the crowd was almost roaring their delight, black and purple glowsticks waving frantically. Distantly, Shu thought he heard a chant of, “Valkyrie! Valkyrie!” but it was drowned out by the sheer wave of noise.

Monarch's fans were applauding them.

With a stuttering heart, Shu turned to Mika. Nothing could've prepared him for the shorter man's pure, radiant glee. He met Shu's gaze with his face alight, and his smile was so treacherously beautiful that Shu barely repressed the urge to kiss him where they stood.

“Evenin', everyone!” Mika cried. “Thank you so much for comin' out tonight! We've got an amazin' set lined up for you, so enjoy the show!”

When Mika held out his hand, Shu took it without thought. The shorter man lifted their intertwined fingers in triumph, and it sounded as if the audience could take down the stadium.

This... was it. This was what Shu was meant to do.

Their hours of practice kicked in once again, and Shu ran back towards the staircase, Mika's hand still held tight in his. They jogged up to the platform and broke apart, posing in the waiting spotlight. Shu caught Mika's fiery grin out of the corner of his eye, and it set him aflame as he took a deep breath and lifted his hand to their fans.

“Last lament.”

Shu never let out that breath. He tumbled into one song after another, both hazy and hyper-aware as he and Mika poured everything they had into their Live. The setlist was a mixture of revived Valkyrie songs and Monarch songs they'd made their own, blending vocals and devising new dynamics. It had been an incredible thing to create, but on stage, Shu knew he'd finally made the magnum opus that'd eluded him in Paris.

During Enthralling Theater, Mika's cry of “Look at me” sparked something in Shu's chest he couldn't fight. Instead of turning out, he reached for Mika and pulled at nothing as he demanded, “Look at me alone!” Mika swayed closer, eyes wide, and Shu hurried on before they broke their choreography.

“O light!” Shu begged when they cascaded into Eternal Weaving. Somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to hear Mika's answering call of, “O shadow!” The shorter man lifted his hands as if to cup Shu's face, and he barely remembered not to take that step.

In Dance of the Rushing River, one of Monarch's most popular songs, Shu knelt at center stage. He stifled a shiver as Mika, the god of the river, drifted his hands over Shu's shoulders, examining the offering left for him. In past performances, Shu remembered Mika dancing in the space between the second verse and the chorus.

That couldn't possibly compare to the shock of electricity that zipped up Shu's spine as warm hands gripped his wrists and hauled him to his feet. They'd practiced the move a thousand times, perfected the art of appearing violent while remaining unbearably gentle. When Mika shoved him forward, Shu's stumbling was barely an act; his legs had turned to jelly.

Every minute brought him closer to disaster. Every step and lyric teetered on the edge of devastation. The adrenaline of walking the wire kept Shu going at a breakneck pace, following their setlist with more energy than he'd ever mustered up in rehearsals.

Finally, after an hour that could've lasted two minutes or three years, they came to a swirling halt. Shu gasped for air, and his ragged breathing was disguised by the audience's roar. He was exhausted, and chances were he'd be sore for days.

But he was alive. His heart pounded along to a rhythm of triumph; this was it; he'd made it; Valkyrie was reborn. Mika slumped against his side, and on sheer impulse, Shu wrapped an arm around the shorter man. Mika collapsed into his shoulder with a soundless laugh.

“Valkyrie! Valkyrie!”

Do you hear that, Shu?

“Valkyrie! Valkyrie!”

They're cheering for you.

Shu glanced down at Mika, and warmth flooded his chest. Even with his hair tousled and his makeup smudged by sweat, Mika looked perfect. He shone with pride, waving wildly at the crowd with his free hand. He was an angel come to earth, Shu's most powerful muse and his closest friend. How had he missed this? How had Shu been so blind as to ignore this beautiful creature?

Never again.

“We are Valkyrie!” Shu shouted, and the whole world shook. “Merci! Merci beaucoup! Thank you for being here!”

He'd never been talented at emceeing, which Mika had assured him was fine; it was a special kind of art. But to Shu's amazement, he didn't have to say anything else. The audience refused to settle, and after a few long seconds in the spotlight, Shu caught sight of a producer waving at them from the wings. Their time was up.

Well, that was fine. He'd said all he needed to say.

Shu slipped his hand into Mika's and led the shorter man offstage, followed by ceaseless cheering. As soon as they hit the darkness of the wings, Shu finally exhaled. Staff awaited them and shuffled them into the backstage corridors, guiding them back to their dressing room. Normally, Shu would've protested the coddling. However, his legs were trembling, and Mika stumbled every few steps. He could bite his tongue for once.

After a truly endless maze of blank cream walls, the dressing room door came into view. Shu shoved inside without pause. A producer still trailed them, but Shu ignored them in favor of collapsing in the nearest chair. He barely stopped to untangle himself from his mic before leaning back with a shuddering sigh, letting his eyes fall shut. He'd definitely be sore in the morning.

“Naw, we're fine. But I appreciate it!”

That was Mika, probably dealing with the producer. The quiet click of the door sounded a second later, and Shu inhaled to thank Mika for being cordial; god knew he couldn't have managed it.

A warm body slumped against his.

Slowly, Shu peeled his arms open. Mika was kneeling, kind of, his head resting against Shu's sternum. He'd tangled his arms thoughtlessly around Shu's waist, snaking between the small of his back and the hard plastic chair, his mic still dangling from his ear. It was an awkward position; the pressure exerted on Shu's lower back was just this side of uncomfortable.

He couldn't have cared less. Shu wrapped an arm around Mika's shoulders and drew him close, taking comfort in the shorter man's contented mumble. In the afterglow of a thrilling Live, Shu could have this. He could run his free hand through sweat-slicked hair and tip his head back, listening to Mika's slow, shuddering breaths. His legs were overheating, but he'd worry about that later.

“Did you hear them?”

Mika's voice was soft, ragged with exhaustion yet brightened by delight. Shu lifted his head and found mismatched eyes already fixed on him.

Beautiful.

“Yes,” he conceded, and Mika's face split in a proud grin. Shu gently swatted the shorter man's shoulder in retaliation. “But our success tonight was not indicative of all your fans. We were fortunate to perform for a crowd that liked Valkyrie, and-”

Mika buried his face in Shu's chest, and Shu stumbled to a stop. “Just admit it,” the shorter man mumbled. “I told you it'd go well.”

Shu's traitorous heart skipped a few beats. “Yes,” he admitted, quieter than he'd meant to. “You did.”

Even with his face hidden, Shu could hear Mika's smile.

Even though it would take several hours to herd the audience out of the venue (and clean up their leftover trash), politeness dictated that Shu and Mika leave as soon as possible. Every passing minute only made it more likely that they'd run into trouble, and Shu shuddered at the thought of dealing with something in his current state. Still, he couldn't find the strength to rise from his slumped position until someone knocked on the door and called,

“Mr. Kagehira? Mr. Itsuki? Your car is waiting at the back entrance. Please head to your pickup location as soon as you've finished changing.”

Shu heaved a melodramatic sigh, then sat up. Mika whined in protest, and Shu gently dislodged the shorter man's weak grip. “Don't complain,” he chided. “We're wasting their time.”

Mika drooped with exhaustion, but, to his credit, he got to his feet and began packing.

Stripping out of the Valkyrie uniform and changing back into street clothes made Shu's skin itch (god, he needed a shower), and he hurried through the rest of their tasks. The costumes would be picked up by ES, and he and Mika were both orderly in the dressing room as a matter of pride. After one last sweep, Shu led the way back into the labyrinthine backstage. A producer waited around the bend, and she nodded a respectful dismissal. Within minutes, they finally escaped into a cool evening breeze.

True to the staff's word, an ES car idled in the staff parking lot. Shu ducked into the backseat first, and once Mika closed the door behind him, the car pulled away. Shu spared a glance at the driver's touch screen, to make sure she had the correct address, then sat back.

A hot shower was his first priority once they got home. Dinner was second but significantly less pressing, and Shu set aside the matter of what they would eat for when he could move without wincing. Though he loathed the exorbitant fees attached to delivering food, maybe it was worth it. Cooking sounded-

Mika's phone suddenly blasted his ringtone, and they both jumped. Shu instantly kicked himself for his twitchiness (the adrenaline wasn't yet out of his system), and Mika chuckled sheepishly as he tugged his phone from his bag. He instantly brightened.

“Hey, Arashi,” Mika greeted, putting the call on speaker and holding it between them. “We're both here.”

“Oh, my god!” Arashi trailed off into a delighted laugh. “That was incredible!”

“You were there?” Shu asked, amused despite himself.

“Of course I was! Kohaku and I bought tickets as soon as they were available, and- yes, you did! I paid for them because you forgot your Hold-hands account number! We-” The call dissolved into fragmented words and vague chatter for a moment, and Shu stifled a smile. “That doesn't matter! Are you still at the venue? Wataru wants to congratulate you!”

Shu glanced up and met Mika's gaze. He raised an eyebrow.

“Wataru?” Mika asked for both of them. “He was there, too?”

“Yes! Ugh, it's like you two don't even listen to us. He just found me. But don't try to dodge the question! The crowd's still hovering in the lobby, waiting to see if they can spot you. Hehe, they're all talking about Valkyrie's surprise return. You really wanted to kick things off with a bang, didn't you?”

“We left,” Shu said dryly, instead of addressing their newfound fanbase. Arashi's groan rattled over the speaker. “You can stop by the apartment in an hour if you want. Bring Wataru and Kohaku if they request it.”

“Aw, Shu! We'll be there!”

The call ended. Shu sat back against the seat, steadfastly avoiding Mika's astonished grin.

“You're feelin' good.

“I don't want to hear it,” Shu muttered. Mika giggled, soft and bright, and Shu couldn't stifle a small smile.

Half an hour later, the car pulled up to their building. Shu grabbed his bag and shambled up the sidewalk, Mika stumbling along at his heels. By some miracle, they made it to their apartment without collapsing — Shu banged his shoulder on several doorframes, though, so the trip wasn't without injuries.

Once inside, Shu plucked Mika's bag from limp fingers and shoved the shorter man towards the bathroom. “Take a shower,” he ordered, ignoring Mika's whine of protest (for more than one reason). “You'll feel better.” 

“I'll feel better if I sleep,” Mika mumbled petulantly. Shu rolled his eyes and pushed Mika again, and after a moment, the shorter man shuffled away. 

In the span of about two weeks — and thanks to Mika allowing him to redecorate — Shu had figured out where everything was in the apartment. Most of his touches were still being shipped, but in terms of furniture and utilities, he'd left his new home alone. The walls and floors were clean and unmarked, and everything was functional.

That wasn't to say Shu didn't have plans to restitch the sofa pillows and replace mismatched trinkets, but that was a project for many more days to come. For the moment, he busied himself unpacking their bags. Their water bottles went straight into the sink, the makeup kits into the bathroom, and their bags were dropped in their respective rooms.

Was Shu just trying to keep himself busy so he didn't fall asleep? Yes. Absolutely.

When Mika emerged from the bathroom with his hair wet and his eyes half-closed, Shu allowed him to sprawl across the couch. He couldn't stop Mika when the shorter man was barely aware of the world, anyway.

The bathroom was still warm, and Shu was relieved to find hot water when he cranked the controls. Stepping inside was almost a religious experience. The stream of warm water beat his muscles, chasing away the aches and pains of too many long nights, and Shu sighed into the steam. He'd forgotten how good the first shower after an exhaustive Live always was.

Still, no use in wasting water. Shu quickly washed away his sweat and changed into a warm set of sweatpants and a clean shirt. (The summer heat hadn't yet set in, and Shu was determined to enjoy the cool evenings for as long as he could). He emerged from the bathroom to find Mika in the exact same position, save for the phone in his hands. Shu briefly considered scaring the shorter man, but before he could decide whether he wanted to be that cruel, the doorbell buzzed.

“Can you let them in? I don't wanna get up.”

Mika's words slurred together at the edges, heavy with exhaustion. Shu rolled his eyes fondly but crossed to the door.

What he'd expected were Arashi and Kohaku, and maybe Wataru, to greet him and enter like civilized people. What he got was Arashi bounding inside, barely pausing to step out of her shoes before running toward Mika with an incomprehensible exclamation of excitement. Wataru followed her with just as much enthusiasm. Kohaku was the last to enter, and he carefully switched his shoes for inside slippers.

“They were like that all the way over here,” Kohaku grumbled, probably in response to Shu's bemused expression. “I dunno how they've got so much energy after all the shoutin' they did at the Live.” The shorter man glanced up, and a faint smile ticked the corners of his mouth. “It looked good, Itsuki.”

Kohaku had never praised his work – not even in rehearsals. Before Shu could think up a polite response, Kohaku slipped inside, and Shu's attention returned to the chaos brewing in the living room. Arashi had somehow managed to get Mika off the couch and was crushing him in a hug, and Kohaku slipped inside without another word.

“I can't breathe,” Mika complained, but his cheeks were flushed with pride.

“I don't care! You did so good, Mika!” Eventually, Arashi released him and swung around to Shu with a beaming smile. Then she faltered. “I know you don't accept hugs from anyone except Mika,” Arashi began, almost imploringly, “but this is a special occasion, and-”

If asked (as Mika later would), Shu claimed that he was so tired that he hadn't been thinking clearly. It was an embarrassing excuse, but anything was better than admitting that he'd willingly heaved a dramatic sigh and held out his arms in a silent invitation. Shu just had time to see Arashi's watery smile before she tackled him, long arms wrapping around his shoulders.

It was reminiscent of Mika's hugs, in a way, an unfiltered expression of affection and joy. Arashi quickly drew back, but Shu still found himself smiling.

He couldn't remember the last time someone other than Mika had hugged him.

“You both did so good!” Arashi squealed, eyes shining. “I knew it would look amazing, but- ah, I don't even know how to describe it. I've never seen you perform like that, Mika!”

Wataru threw his hands up so quickly that Shu had to lean away to avoid being smacked. “Amazing!” he declared. “I thought Monarch was incredible, but this! You have truly ascended to a new level of performance! I haven't seen an audience that invigorated in ages!”

“Their shock worked in our favor,” Shu muttered, shuffling a step away from the other man. “Don't attribute meaning where there is none.”

Pale blue eyes snapped to him, and Wataru made a face Shu recognized back from their time as the Five Eccentrics — dry understanding mingled with sympathy. Now, though, it carried a distinctly amused tinge.

“Don't you underplay what you did tonight, Shu Itsuki,” Wataru chided. “That was a smashing success. Come tomorrow morning, everyone will be talking about Valkyrie's return. You have catapulted yourselves back into the realm of the idols!”

Oh, didn't Shu know it. He and Mika had planned to make a splash, but Monarch's fans were more active than most. They were in for a hell of a few days.

Wataru clapped his hands sharply, and Mika jumped. Shu almost laughed. “I know I had something else to say,” the fine leader mused. “Oh, yes! Before I go, Mika-” The shorter man visibly swallowed. “Now that you've made your return as Valkyrie, will you be able to attend Remnants meetings? We've all missed you, and a few regulars have asked where you are.”

Remnants? Shu wondered. Arashi and Kohaku didn't seem surprised, so it had to be idol-related.

Mika's mouth moved silently for a few seconds. Then his eyes widened, and he pressed his hands to his mouth. “Aah, I'm so sorry!” he wailed, slightly muffled. “I got so busy plannin' the Live with Shu that I completely forgot, and-”

Wataru chuckled and patted Mika's shoulder. “We knew it would happen. Still, we expect to see you this weekend!” Mika nodded meekly, and Wataru's gaze swung around to Shu again. He stiffened on instinct. “You're also welcome to attend,” the fine leader offered. “Remnants is- mm, I'll call it group therapy. At first, it was just us remaining Eccentrics. Before Rei left, he extended the invitation to Mika, and since then, they've offered peer support to any idols who need it. There's a few of who 'run' the program, and we'd be happy to have you.”

A support group... run by the other three Eccentrics and Mika, who'd flushed red.

“I'll consider it,” Shu conceded, and Wataru inclined his head. Shu did want to attend, if for no other reason to reconnect with the other Eccentrics, but he had to talk to Mika first. He refused to trample over the shorter man's boundaries, especially if he wanted to keep Remnants as a personal endeavor.

“You don't have to decide now,” Wataru added breezily. “Just come with Mika on Monday if you're interested. Have a good evening!”

With that, the cyclone that was Wataru Hibiki vanished out the door. Shu shook his head (in a way, it was almost comforting to know that Wataru hadn't changed), then turned back to their guests. To his surprise, Arashi had produced a plastic bag from somewhere and was holding it out to him.

“For you,” she declared. “And Mika, to celebrate your success. Food from Matsuya.”

Shu carefully took the bag, and sure enough, the smell of fresh beef bowls wafted from within. “Thank you,” he said, a bit startled.

Arashi smiled knowingly. “Don't thank me. Mika texted and asked if I could bring food, and he even gave me your order. It's my treat this time.”

Shu glanced over and found Mika already hovering at his side, still flushed, but now wearing a little, proud smile. Shu's heart swelled (god, Mika was too good for him), and he gently squeezed the shorter man's shoulder — the most he could do without wrapping Mika in a hug on the spot.

“Thank you for picking it up,” Shu persisted, and Arashi finally conceded with a roll of her eyes. “We'll eat later.”

“Oh, no, don't wait for us,” Arashi said, flapping a dismissive hand. “You look exhausted. We can catch up tomorrow. I'm working with Knights in the morning, but you can stop by if you want to help pass out flyers for Switch. We're doing it as a favor to Isara since he promoted our last event!”

“Didn't Harukawa accidentally steal your practice room?” Kohaku muttered. “And Isara helped out 'cause he felt guilty?”

Arashi elbowed him sharply. “It was still sweet of him!” she protested. “And anyway, you'll hear what people are saying about Valkyrie.”

Shu didn't know how to politely tell Arashi that there was no way in hell he'd show up. He needed to rest and not think about the hit Monarch's reputation would take when the idol world learned of their renewed partnership. Thankfully, Mika leaned into his side with a sheepish chuckle.

“I'm gonna be pretty tired,” the shorter man admitted. “Maybe we can just do lunch?”

Arashi flashed a brilliant grin. “Well, whatever you want! Kohaku, you'll join us?”

Kohaku narrowed his eyes. “'course I'm comin',” he grumbled, pinning Mika with a sharp stare. “I wanna know how you came up with those ideas for Dance of the Rushing River.”

“This is what happens when you skip their rehearsals,” Arashi said primly.

“I was doin' idol work with Freebirds!” Kohaku protested. “I didn't expect them to do somethin' like that!” Shu couldn't help a quiet snort, and pale purple eyes flicked to him. “Don't start, Itsuki.”

In truth, Shu knew he probably wouldn't sleep tonight, not with all those little moments from their Live circling his head. But no one else needed to know that, so he handed the bag off to Mika and strode to the door.

“We'll see you tomorrow, then,” Shu said evenly, and he waved a hand towards the hallway.

It was nice, he thought, to tease Arashi and Kohaku and have their reactions be a delighted laugh and a quiet grumble. Arashi immediately stepped back into her shoes and swept out the door, only pausing to call, “Goodnight!” before walking off. Kohaku followed at a slower pace, and as he dropped his inside slippers onto the rack, he paused. His gaze didn't waver from the floor.

“I know we were never close,” Kohaku muttered, too quietly for Mika to hear, and Shu frowned. “Or even really friends. But I'm glad you came back, Itsuki. I've never seen a Live like that, and I've watched a lot of performances these past few years. You do good work together.”

Another piece of praise. All Shu could do was incline his head slightly, and Kohaku cracked a surprisingly genuine smile.

“I thought geniuses like you always know what to say.”

Then he was gone, leaving Shu torn between irritation and something horrifyingly close to affection. God, he was too tired for this. He closed the door and locked it, then headed over to the couch. Mika had already curled up under a blanket and spread their food across the table. Some Japanese melodrama played on the TV.

“I can't practice my French anymore,” Mika mumbled into his bowl. “The TV doesn't get any of the stations.”

Shu barely stifled a laugh at the shorter man's miserable expression. “Fool,” he murmured, altogether too fondly, and sat next to Mika. His partner immediately leaned into his side, and Shu decided not to protest, even if it made it harder to eat.

The melodrama was even worse than its French variants, but Shu couldn't bring himself to care. It was mindless noise to keep him awake while he ate. Mika finished in minutes (he must've been starving) and soon started to slump. By the time Shu finished his bowl and tucked the trash back into the bag, Mika had fully curled up against him, his arms and legs wrapped in the blanket.

If Shu didn't move soon, they'd fall asleep here. He'd have an awful crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch, but... the shorter man had all but nuzzled into him. Making Mika move sounded like a crime (not to mention that he didn't want to lose the other Valkyrie's warmth).

Even if Shu caved and stayed put, he had to speak. Before the last of the adrenaline faded away and he lost his nerve.

“Mika,” he murmured. He received a mumbled affirmation in response, and that was good enough. “Thank you. For everything you've done while I was gone and while I've been here. I could never have come back without your help, and I wouldn't have wanted to.”

A beat. Shu's heartbeat started to pick up, hurried along by fear. Too sappy, too stupid; he-

“Don't say stuff like that,” Mika protested weakly, burying his face in Shu's shoulder, and Shu couldn't help but huff a relieved laugh. “'course, Shu. I was always s'posed to be a Valkyrie with you. It wasn't the same when you were gone.”

Mika was clearly half-asleep; the slur in his voice betrayed him. But he was nothing if not achingly genuine, so gentle and sweet that Shu felt clumsy in comparison, and he let out a sharp sigh. You'll be the death of me, he thought, resting his nose in soft, dark hair.

Shu longed to kiss him. He wanted to so badly that it ached.

He didn't move.

Sleep came for him minutes later, and Shu willingly surrendered. He barely remembered to turn off the TV before slumping back, Mika still tucked against his side. The shorter man burned so, so warm, and each slow beat of Shu's heart made an unparalleled contentedness flow through his chest.

They were home.

Chapter Text

“-so Tomoya and I finally convinced him to confess. And it went really well! Hajime never told us about their first date, but when we were working yesterday, I saw him and Ryu holding hands. Mitsuru asked, and Hajime looked so happy when he called Ryu his boyfriend. It was adorable.”

Nazuna gasped for air, and Mika giggled at the theatrics. “I'm real happy for him,” he pitched in while his brother caught his breath. “I caught him starin' at Ryu a few times when I was hangin' around.”

Nazuna rolled his eyes fondly. “You and me, and everyone else in the room,” he sighed. “Do you remember when Ra*bits, ALKALOID, and Cheshire did that three-way collab for the Summer Kickoff? I think everyone on set noticed Hajime and Ryu staring at each other. Aira wouldn't stop talking about it.”

“He'd know,” Mika snickered.

“That's what I said!” Nazuna protested, pointing his drink at Mika indignantly. “But it was 'different' when it was between units instead of an internal thing, and I was being mean to him.”

Mika couldn't help another laugh at Nazuna's put-out expression. “It's not like he started treatin' Amagi any different,” he added lightly; he had to defend Aira a little. “With Hajime and Ryu, it's this whole new thing. I didn't realize Aira and Amagi had stopped dancin' around each other until he blurted it out to Pretty 5.”

Nazuna chuckled into his drink. “I bet that went well.”

“There's nothin' to talk 'bout,” Mika scoffed. “Arashi and I said congrats, and Tori and Hiyori wanted the date so they could set up somethin' for their anniversary. Aira didn't talk to us for days.”

Nazuna finally laughed, as bright as the feeling of summer itself, and Mika couldn't help a broad smile. It had only been a couple of weeks since his last lunch with his brother, but it always felt like coming home. Sitting at a table in the staff cafeteria, leisurely working through a plate of snacks and endless refills... it was peaceful. Whatever tension Mika brought in with him was gone by the time he hugged Nazuna goodbye.

Still, it wasn't the same now.

Their relationship was still solid; nothing could break them apart anymore. But the bags under Nazuna's eyes were darker than ever, even more so than when Ra*bits had tackled their first tournament Live. He was ghostly pale, and sometimes, when he thought Mika wasn't looking, he chewed anxiously at his nails. It was a bad habit he'd said he'd kicked years ago.

Worst of all, Mika knew the cause – after all, they hadn't had lunch in a couple of weeks, and it used to be a near-daily occurrence.

Part of it was their busy schedules. Reforming Valkyrie had taken over Mika's life, and suddenly, he and Shu were hustling toward one Live after another, chasing every job that would cement them as a force to be reckoned with. There'd been minor pushback against Monarch's resignation and Valkyrie's return, but most of his fans had greeted the change with unmatched enthusiasm. Old Valkyrie fans had even emerged from the woodwork, praising their new songs. Plus, as Ra*bits' tireless leader, Nazuna never stopped working.

Another part was that Mika had started being social in groups. It was easier to call Arashi and Kohaku and ask if they wanted to grab lunch (and drag Shu along) than to organize plans one-on-one. Nazuna never liked socializing in groups for too long, and Mika would never fault him for it; Shu often ducked out early, too.

But that also meant Nazuna had fallen even farther outside his circle. Just last night, Mika had sat in on a Dramatica rehearsal, then went out to dinner with the troupe afterward. He and Shu had claimed the end of the table, Arashi squished in on Mika's other side, with Natsume and Wataru across from them, and it had been fun. He'd never even thought to invite Nazuna, and the realization made his chest constrict.

The core of the issue, though, was twisted up in the very fact that Mika was a Valkyrie again. As much as Nazuna didn't tell him, Mika saw what his brother didn't say. It was all but painted across Nazuna's face; it had been for weeks. He was terrible at concealing his emotions; he and Shu had always been similar that way.

Mika had stayed up late, planning exactly how he wanted to broach the topic. But watching Nazuna laugh for the first time in too long, the words jammed in his throat. There was no easy way to bring it up.

Nothing was ever easy with them.

“Earth to Mika.”

Fingers snapped in front of his face, and Mika jolted back to attention. He gently pushed the invasive hand away, and Nazuna returned to his seat with a quiet snicker.

“Don't tell me I was that boring,” his brother chided, still chuckling. “I thought you liked hearing about our practices.”

“You know I do,” Mika said, a bit exasperated, and Nazuna grinned impishly.

The color didn't return to the other man's cheeks, and the haunted look forever lingering behind his eyes glared at Mika accusingly. His mirth drained away, and a ball lodged in his throat, making each nervous swallow hurt. Mika had to say something, no matter the outcome.

“Nii... we gotta talk.”

A heavy beat, almost stifling in its silence. The cafeteria noise dimmed to white noise, and the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun faded away. All Mika could focus on was Nazuna's terrifyingly blank face.

No matter the outcome.

“About what?” Nazuna asked, painfully hollow. Mika flinched instinctively, and the coldness melted from Nazuna's eyes. The other man fiddled with his drink for a moment (a raspberry slushy that'd turned his tongue blue), then let out a sigh that carried the weight of the world. “Alright,” Nazuna mumbled. “I just... I know you don't want to hear what I'm going to say.”

“It's not like that,” Mika protested, hurt. He laid his hand over Nazuna's, and after a moment, slender fingers laced through his. “I know you're hurtin', and I know you're not tellin' me 'cause you think I can't take it. I can. I've heard worse, Nii.”

Nazuna shook his head fiercely. “Just because you can take it doesn't mean you should,” his brother said bitterly, and he clenched Mika's hand a little tighter. “You're happier than I've seen you in years. I'm not going to take that away from you.”

A flicker of annoyance bloomed in Mika's chest, but he brushed it aside. He and Nazuna cared too much about each other for their own good, and he'd always take self-sacrificing nonsense over estrangement. Still...

“You're not gonna take anythin' away from me,” Mika said firmly. “What if you're right, anyway? Shouldn't I know?”

“No one in this whole building thinks I'm right.”

The words came out so resentful that it didn't even sound like Nazuna. Mika stilled, startled at the sudden vehemence, and Nazuna's scowl quickly faded into something almost like horror.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I don't- I don't know where that came from.”

Mika did. He'd seen the wound festering for almost a month now, and he and Shu had been the ones to deal the blow. They'd never meant to, but Nazuna had gotten hurt all the same, and guilt twisted Mika's insides until he could barely breathe. He should've done this sooner.

“I'm sorry, too,” Mika murmured. “I know we haven't met in a while, and I'll fix that. I promise.” His brother didn't look up. Mika swallowed his fear. “Just say it, Nii.”

In a flash, Nazuna's eyes snapped up to him, and something dark and desperate spiraled in pale red. The hollowness Mika had seen weeks previous had returned in full force, and he steeled himself against whatever would come next.

Honesty was better. Honesty would always be better than letting it fester.

“How do you know it's going to be different?” Nazuna demanded, and the question tumbled out of him in a rush, as if the dam holding back the waterfall had finally crumbled. “You spend most of your time with him, and I know, I know, you're planning Lives and reworking your songs, and I understand that, Mika, I promise. But you've always been too close to him to see the bigger picture. I'm- I'm scared. Why aren't you?”

In some odd way, Nazuna was right. Shu and Mika did spend most of their time together, which was why Mika was currently in the cafeteria while Shu worked. As they'd settled in, Shu had finally started to unwind, and with that came a need for space. Mika didn't mind; the taller man would always return.

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Mika knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Shu would always come home, even if it was past midnight. They'd have breakfast in the morning, compare their schedules, and start again. That cycle kept Mika sane; even with the frantic lifestyle of an idol, he had something to hold onto.

But how could he explain that certainty to someone who hadn't lived it? To his brother, who looked at Mika's new bond with Shu and saw only what had been?

“Did I ever tell you what it was like bein' a solo artist?” Mika blurted, and Nazuna blinked. “While the other half of my unit was overseas, y'know.”

Nazuna's expression instantly dimmed back into melancholy. “You were still a unit even when you were solo, Mika; this is what I'm-”

“I didn't wanna be.”

As soon as the words were out, Mika froze. He'd never said that aloud before. He'd never told anyone – even Arashi – that Monarch had been fun, but it was never what he'd wanted. Mika was nothing like Mikejima, who'd willingly disbanded Double Face once he'd decided he felt stifled. He'd always been made for a unit.

And Nazuna saw that. His dear brother, who knew so much that his other friends didn't, looked him in the eyes and sagged with defeat.

“Even if it wasn't him,” Nazuna murmured, “it would've been someone else. Right? You just... weren't willing to have anyone else.” Mika nodded wordlessly. Nazuna's shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh. “Why, Mika?” he whispered, gaze fixed on the table. “Why him? You could've picked anyone. And I'm not even talking about Valkyrie anymore; Arashi is right; you two act like a couple who broke up and got back together.”

Mika's fingers went numb. Panic seeped into his mind, stealing away any excuses that could've absolved him of the truth. But it wouldn't have mattered, anyway. Nazuna knew him too well. Mika could only watch, terrified, as his brother's eyes widened to the size of plates.

“Oh, no, Mika-” Nazuna stood in a rush, untangling their fingers and slamming his drink down. He hurried around the table, grabbing Mika's shoulders roughly. “No,” his brother demanded, and his eyes blazed with desperation. “Don't pick him. You can have anyone else. Mika- why? Why?”

There was no easy answer. Nothing except the truths Mika had carried in his heart for so long. Faced with Nazuna's glassy eyes and the fact that someone had finally figured it out, Mika wanted to shut down, claiming that Nazuna had misread the whole situation. With one wrong word, this beautiful life would come crashing down. Mika could reason his way into and out of any conclusion about his feelings, but, ultimately, if he drove Shu away, Valkyrie would collapse yet again, and Mika would go with it. He couldn't survive being left behind again. Wasn't strong enough.

A blinding flash of panic seized Mika's body (gods, what if his idiotic feelings ruined everything?), and he grabbed Nazuna's wrists.

“Don't tell him,” Mika whispered. “Please, Nii.”

Confusion flickered across Nazuna's face. “What?”

“Don't tell him. I- I'm never gonna say anythin'. It's okay. You don't hafta worry, okay? Nothin' is gonna happen.”

Ever.

Pale red eyes bored into Mika's, and he stared back, allowing every bit of his desperation to shine through. Slowly, tears gathered in the corners of Nazuna's eyes. His brother blinked, and tiny drops of starlight slid down pale cheeks. Mika hated it. He never wanted to see the other man cry, not after everything they'd been through. Hadn't they shed enough tears enough for a lifetime?

“Why?” Nazuna gasped out, and he shook Mika feebly. “How could you love Shu?”

No easy answer.

Telling his therapist had been one thing; the man was entirely separate from the idol world, and Mika had always valued that separation. Telling his friends, the people who saw him every day, who made his life bright...

Maybe he had to. Maybe, if he took a leap of faith, the world wouldn't fall apart in his hands. Anything was better than living in this constant state of fear.

“Can I tell you?” Mika asked softly. Nazuna wavered, and his sharp exhale hovered between them, still lined with tears. “I know how this happened, Nii,” Mika continued, slowly releasing his brother's wrists, “and I can tell you. I wanna. But you hafta promise to listen.”

Nazuna was silent. His eyes flicked back and forth across Mika's face, searching for something Mika could only pray he'd find. Distantly, he was reminded of how Shu looked at him, as if the two men were silently begging for forgiveness or asking a question Mika couldn't hear. Despite everything, when it came to their emotions, Shu and Nazuna were uncannily similar.

Finally, his brother let go.

“Okay.” Nazuna took a deep, shuddering breath, then stepped back, slowly sinking into his chair. “I'm listening,” he mumbled hoarsely.

No backing out now. A leap of faith.

Mika carefully straightened, then offered an uneven smile. “Did anyone tell you why Shu left? Like, did Arashi or Kohaku ever mention it?” Nazuna shook his head wordlessly, and Mika couldn't help a slightly brighter smile. “It was a lot of things, y'know, but everythin' caught up at our last Live. I didn't know it was our last.

“Anyway, Shu had been stressed out 'cause of somethin' in Paris. We were preppin' backstage, and he shouted at me for forgettin' half of his costume. I told him I never touched his outfit, 'cause I didn't, and eventually, we figured out that he'd left it at ES. The sleeve had gotten snagged, so he'd been fixin' it.”

The memory arose, unbidden, and Mika paused as he relived the exact moment Shu had realized. The taller man had gone deathly pale and turned away, mumbling about how they could “adjust your costume to match mine.” Mika had just caught the tail end of Shu's stricken expression.

“The costumes looked fine,” Mika continued softly, “but I'd never seen him so lifeless onstage. A few days later, he told me he was disbandin' Valkyrie and movin' to Paris permanently, and he'd do anythin' to help out before he left.”

Even with three years between then and now and a thousand hours of conversations, echoes of terror resonated in Mika's chest. He and Shu had been talking outside the Seisoukan Dorm, and he'd nearly collapsed on the spot. He'd inhaled to plead or beg or do anything, but Shu had lifted a silencing hand.

“This is the best course of action for both of us. I leave in two months. Tell me when you've come to a conclusion about your career, and I'll disband Valkyrie then.”

Nazuna shook his head, and Mika snapped out of the memory. “That sounds like him,” his brother murmured, again with an edge of bitterness.

“He hadn't learned yet,” Mika said simply. “But I talked to him before he left – not like, y'know, arguin', just talkin'. My therapist suggested some topics, and I tried 'em. It was good. Shu was really tryin' to listen.”

Nazuna frowned. “I thought you started therapy after he left.”

“Naw, before. Shu mentioned therapy and that he'd decided to leave because of it. I didn't know what he was talkin' about, so I thought it was some... I dunno, magical thing that was whisperin' in his ear.” Mika chuckled wryly. “The therapist I had back then is the only reason I stayed as a solo unit instead of just quittin',” he added. “I still send her flowers every year.”

Mika realized he was rambling a second too late, and when Nazuna heaved a silent sigh, he couldn't quite stifle a wince.

“You know I like hearing you talk, Mika,” his brother started, seemingly ignoring Mika's mumbled protests, “but please tell me what I'm missing.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. He could do this.

“Y'know my Monarch earring?” Mika asked, waving at his right ear, where the butterfly always hung. Nazuna nodded slowly. “Shu handmade it for me before he left.”

A beat.

“What?” Nazuna demanded, and a laugh bubbled out before Mika could stop it. His brother continued to gape at him, but all Mika could do was giggle at the incredulity.

They'd been at ES on Shu's last day in Japan since Mika was too busy to accompany the taller man to the airport. Shu had caught his arm (which had surprised Mika in and of itself), then offered a small velvet box.

“Open it,” Shu had prompted after Mika had taken it hesitantly.

Mika had, and his heart had fallen out of his chest when he'd laid eyes on the ornate black and purple butterfly. He'd drifted his fingers along the delicate wings, and only through sheer force of will had Mika kept himself from crying. When he'd looked up, wide-eyed and completely speechless, Shu had scowled and looked away.

That had been the first time Mika had allowed himself to crush Shu in a hug. The taller man hadn't reciprocated, but the hesitant hands resting on his back had been more than enough.

“Keep in touch,” the former Valkyrie leader had added, almost too quietly to be heard.

Then Shu Ituski fled to Paris.

So that was where Mika would start the story.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mika had never considered himself particularly impatient. But, after waiting two weeks and sitting on his hands to keep himself from caving to impulse, he had to reevaluate that assessment.

His therapist had recommended waiting a month before reaching out. At the time, Mika had reluctantly agreed with her. As she had (rightfully) pointed out, change was hard, and both Shu and Mika should settle into their new “norms” before adding another variable.

Now, he was sure waiting a month would kill him – which was why Mika was curled up on his bed, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his phone in his hands. Ritsu had long since passed out, but Mika had still wedged himself against the wall out of some misplaced shame.

But for once, his insecurities couldn't stop him. Mika watched, dazed, as his fingers navigated to Shu's number and started to type. He'd checked the time difference again and again; his 10 P.M. should be Shu's midday. Something simple would work, right? Open-ended, undemanding, just enough to get Shu to talk to him.

If he would at all.

A jitter shot down Mika's spine, terror and hope and that bone-deep misery he'd been carrying around for two and a half months mixing into a nauseating concoction in his stomach. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed send.

Mika: how's Paris? is it snowing there too?

Oh, stupid. Stupid! What kind of message was that? Shu had always despised small talk, and he'd probably ignore something so utterly-

A new message appeared on the screen. Mika's entire body went numb.

Shu: I didn't think you'd contact me.

What- what did that mean? Was Shu upset that Mika had texted him? But that didn't make sense; Shu always said what he meant, and if he hadn't wanted Mika to keep in touch, he wouldn't have brought it up.

Mika physically shook himself. His therapist had ordered him to keep his unresolved issues out of the conversation. Mika was still getting used to the idea of having unresolved issues, but his therapist had been adamant, and he trusted her. So, even though his hands were shaking from a terrible mix of adrenaline and hope, he carefully typed another message.

Mika: i wanted to

Three gray dots instantly appeared next to Shu's name, and Mika nearly sobbed. Oh, thank the gods. This was actually working.

Shu: Paris is beautiful. Yes, we've had several snowstorms already. It's been challenging to get my imports into the building.

Mika: did you really buy that much?

Shu: To achieve my full artistic vision for this apartment, yes.

Mika: send a picture! i wanna see!

The gray dots vanished. In a split second, Mika's stomach dropped through the floor, and he dug trembling fingers into the nearest pillow. Stupid! He should've known better than to ask for something; he was pushing his luck already and-

Three pictures flashed onto the screen. Mika jumped and hurriedly tapped them. His jaw dropped.

Shu's apartment was beautiful. From what Mika could see, everything was half-finished, but it was still breathtaking. The kitchen was all sleek edges and monochrome coloring, and sunlight streamed through a nearby window, painting the living room in an amber glow. Vaguely, Mika recognized Shu's signature stitch on one of the armchair's seams; the taller man was probably making his own furniture.

Shu: I still need a dining table and a replacement for my bed frame. The one I received was cracked.

Mika blinked a few times, clearing away the afterimage of an apartment that almost looked ethereal, then cracked a faint grin at Shu's follow-up message.

Mika: are you sleeping on the floor or something?

A beat.

Shu: For the moment.

Suddenly, time slipped through Mika's fingers. Each message he sent and each prompt response dimmed his adrenaline, replaced by a warm glow in his chest. He was curious about France, and Shu seemed more than happy to discuss his renovations. From what Mika could gather, the taller man was redoing everything in his apartment, even the floorboards, to give himself a fresh start.

It was easy. Mika couldn't remember the last time he'd talked to Shu for so long.

All too soon, his body started to give out on him. He fought it as hard as he could, but when it took him five attempts to spell “official,” and he still managed to spell it as “offcila,” Mika realized he might've revealed his exhaustion. Sure enough, Shu's next message was an abrupt topic shift.

Shu: What time is it in Japan?

Mika briefly considered lying but discarded the thought as soon as it came. Shu could easily Google the conversion. The truth was best, though Mika chewed his lip nervously as he typed.

Mika: after midnight

Shu instantly started typing, then stopped. The dots flickered on and off for a few seconds, and Mika braced for a scolding.

Shu: Get some sleep. Text me when you wake up.

Mika blinked. That was almost... gentle.

The green bubble next to Shu's name vanished, and with shaking hands, Mika shut off his phone. The dorm was pitch black thanks to the blackout curtains Ritsu had bought, and somehow, the darkness gave Mika freedom. He squeezed the pillow to his chest and allowed silent tears to stream down his cheeks – allowed no one but the night to see how overwhelmed he was.

When Mika's alarm went off, he jerked awake, startled out of a hazy sleep that he didn't even remember slipping into. Ritsu mumbled a protest from the other bed, and Mika slapped at his side table blindly. His phone wasn't there. He frowned, then remembered the previous night in a jolt of adrenaline that took him from half-asleep to fully awake in half a second.

Mika snatched his phone from its precarious position next to his pillow and, to his utter disbelief, found three new messages waiting for him.

2:13 A.M.
Shu: I chose this apartment for its view, but the balcony is falling apart. I've spoken to the landlord about the danger a broke railing constitutes, and he agreed to let me remodel as long as I pay the difference. I hadn't expected him to be so accommodating.

4:56 A.M.
Shu: Another of the delivery trucks has gotten lost. I had assumed a secluded street would be difficult to find, but this is absurd.

6:25 A.M.
Shu: The sun should be rising soon. Don't forget to eat.

And thus began something Mika could genuinely call a friendship. Due to the eight-hour difference and their busy schedules, their conversations always took place right when Mika woke up and as his day was winding down. Shu willingly dedicated time to their conversations (The designers here are woefully uninspired, he complained one quiet evening, and Mika giggled at the indignation), and Mika enjoyed talking to Shu as he got ready for bed.

It was... nice. That was the only way he could describe it. Mika's inhibitions slowly dissolved, making room for honesty he never could've adopted face-to-face. Shu had mellowed out to such a degree that Mika almost felt comfortable teasing him. (He never did, though. That was too dangerous.)

For a while, it was enough. Mika barely had time to breathe, as getting Monarch on its feet was a monumental task, and Shu spent months searching for like-minded creators in Paris' art scene. Hearing stories from another country as he shambled around his dorm made Mika feel more human. Grounded, almost. Sometimes, Shu even asked about Monarch, and Mika happily recounted his experiences. If he didn't know better, he'd say the taller man was proud of him.

But there was an ache in Mika's chest. Even as he shopped with Arashi and chatted with Kohaku, Mika couldn't shake the yearning to hear Shu's voice, see the taller man's gestures as he told his stories.

Despite everything – or maybe because of their new beginning – Mika's closest friend was still the man almost 6,000 miles away.

He lasted five months before he asked his therapist if he could do something exceptionally stupid. She'd interrogated him for two full sessions before agreeing that his idea had merit, and the second Mika made it home, he'd whipped out his phone and texted Shu.

Mika: can i visit next month? i really wanna see your apartment, and i'd only stay a couple of days

Deep in his heart, Mika expected failure. He expected to be left on read, or chastised, or faced with any of the hundreds of responses he associated with the man who'd always stood an arm's length away.

A response appeared within seconds.

Shu: I have no pressing obligations. You can come next week.

Years later, Arashi and Kohaku told him that was the moment they saw a change – Mika couldn't confirm or deny anything; he barely remembered that week. He hurtled through his next Live (which his producers praised as his best performance yet), then booked a ticket to Paris and flew out within 12 hours of closing the show.

Mika was jittery the whole way, crammed between a man with no concept of elbow room and a woman balancing a toddler on her lap. But even the long flight couldn't contain him. He was bursting at the seams, terrified and ecstatic and nearly sick from adrenaline.

He was the first one off the plane, even though he'd been seated in the back, and Mika didn't care how many dirty looks were thrown his way. He threw his carry-on bag over his shoulder and sprinted through the terminal. Numbers flew past, faces blurred into a melting pot of life, and Mika's heart hammered against his ribs in a rhythm of desperate hope.

He spotted Shu first. The taller man stood beside a pillar, wearing surprisingly casual clothes (for him, anyway; he was still laughably out of place). Shu's arms were folded over his chest, and dark eyes swept anxiously over the crowd.

Their eyes met, and Mika watched, half-certain he was dreaming, as a small smile tipped Shu's mouth. He looked so... human.

Mika's body lurched forward before his brain could catch up, and suddenly, he was running again. He threw his arms around Shu, burying his face into a silken shirt to hide the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. And by some divine miracle, Shu caught him with open arms and hugged back fiercely. The taller man shuddered once, then relaxed with a barely audible sigh.

Mika should've known then. Maybe he'd just been too scared to acknowledge it.

Per his promise to Shu and the agenda he'd give the COS PRO producers, he'd planned to spend three days in Paris. Mika ended up staying for almost two weeks. He only dragged himself back to Japan when Anzu called him and bewilderedly asked where he was. Shu and Mika had spent most of those two weeks talking, working through the tears and hurts and everything that had fallen between the cracks of their near-daily conversations. It had hurt, undoubtedly, and Mika still felt raw when he returned to the airport.

But he decided it had been worth it for the way Shu enveloped Mika in a hug, unafraid of contact.

“I'll be back soon,” Mika mumbled once Shu had released him, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to lean into the taller man's space. He'd been given enough for one trip.

Shu smiled faintly – he'd been doing that more and more. “I have no doubt.”

As a peace offering for being gone an extra ten days, Shu sent Mika home with a few new costume pieces. He'd brought them along from Japan and no longer wanted them. Mika gladly wore the taller man's designs, even if he modified them to create a more “Monarch” outfit. To Mika's delight, his friends fawned over the finished product. Kuro, who Mika had been seeing more and more in the studio, found him after the Live, and Kuro's curious look made Mika pause.

“That design,” the older man said slowly. “Shu made it.”

Mika flinched but nodded. Kuro hummed wordlessly, and it took Mika several days to realize that Kuro had caught on to why Mika had dropped everything and flown to Paris.

That was how the next three years went. Mika flew to France as often as possible without ruining his budget, and his conversations with Shu kept him sane. Though his other friendships were irreplaceable, Mika was equally aware that his mended relationship with Shu had claimed a special place in his heart.

The moment Mika realized the depth of his feelings had been so mundane, it was almost embarrassing. He sat at the dining table in Shu's apartment, scrolling through his phone, absently reading off a news article to the taller man.

“The police still haven't apprehended the thief,” Mika reported. Shu let out a disgusted scoff, throwing the fridge shut as he bustled around the kitchen. Mika grinned at the dramatics and added, “It says the Grand Palais is gonna close for a few months while they deal with the security breach.”

“Three years of renovations,” Shu sighed, striding over to the table with two plates of toast, “only to be immediately shut down for as a petty issue as this. I wouldn't be surprised if this story is fake.”

Mika gladly accepted the offered plate and raised his eyebrows. “That would ruin this station's reputation,” he protested, barely getting the sentence out before digging into the warm toast.

Shu shot him a dry smile. “You would think, wouldn't you?”

It struck Mika in the chest then, an entirely new and stupidly obvious realization. He clapped his hands over his mouth, stifling a rattling gasp, and for a second, all Mika could do was stare at Shu. Shu, who'd made him breakfast without asking; Shu, who so easily shared his apartment and his life; Shu, who invited him back again and again.

Shu Itsuki. His best friend.

The warmth in his chest never left him from that point on. Some days, Mika cried into his hands and prayed for his stupid crush to shatter; he couldn't live with something forever out of his reach. But as the years slipped by, and Shu welcomed him back with open arms, Mika decided it wasn't “out of his reach” – it was just another form of love. And he was content with that.

A few days before his 21st birthday, much to Arashi's and Kohaku's dismay, Mika flew to Paris. Shu greeted him with a bouquet and a smile that seemed distinctly pleased.

On the evening of his actual birthday, Mika was nestled in Shu's apartment, tucked into a blanket and sleepy from a home-cooked meal. He had no interest in alcohol, nor did Shu, so their choice of poison was Shu's attempt at making candy. As it turned out, confectionary was the only hobby he allowed himself to be bad at, and his “failed” creations were perfect for Mika's stomach.

Curled up on the couch, happily munching his sweets after a peaceful day, laughing with Shu over a stupid melodrama, Mika was happy. He had been happy for three years, largely thanks to the man sitting at his shoulder, rolling his eyes at the shouting match on the TV. Mika leaned against Shu's shoulder ever so slightly, and the taller man responded by brushing Mika's hair out of his face. As easy as breathing. As fond as the love burning in his chest.

Home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That's why I didn't tell you where I went for my birthday,” Mika admitted, and he winced at how raspy his voice was. Gods, he hadn't talked so much in a long time. But his story was almost over, and Nazuna's eyes were still too wide. Mika needed his brother to hear this.

“I was obsessed with Shu for a long time,” he said softly, “and that wasn't good for any of us. I overlooked stuff I shouldn't have, even if I didn't know why it was wrong. I let you get hurt for the sake of 'art,' and I did it again with this new Valkyrie. I'm sorry, Nii. I just... hope you can see that things ain't the same. If nothin' else, trust Arashi and Kohaku. They'd stop me if they saw somethin' goin' sideways.”

His words finally trickled away, and Mika let out a long breath, coughing a little at how ragged his throat felt. He was lucky they didn't have a Live for a few weeks; his voice would be destroyed for a few days at best. Still... his whole body felt lighter. Lo and behold, Mika's life hadn't instantly crumbled around him.

There was still time, of course. Who knew how Nazuna would react?

But Mika was a little less afraid. He grabbed his drink and cherished the rush of cold water on his aching throat. Nazuna was silent, still gripping his cup, his gaze a thousand miles away. Mika let his brother stew.

Finally, Nazuna glanced up. “If you'd told me all that before he came back,” he murmured, too quietly, “I wouldn't have believed you.”

Mika offered another lopsided smile. “I know.”

Another long stretch of silence. Nazuna swirled his drink pensively, and Mika again resigned himself to waiting. His brother would sort his thoughts out in due time, and after Mika had spent three years sorting through his sentiments, he could give Nazuna a few minutes.

Besides... a selfish hope had burrowed into Mika's heart and taken root. Maybe, just maybe, Nazuna would see that things could change if he just took the first step – Shu would definitely meet him halfway. They carried around a burden Mika couldn't alleviate, and if therapy had taught him anything, it was not to let the issue fester.

But he couldn't do anything by himself.

Suddenly, Nazuna nodded. “I want to talk to him,” he decided, and Mika nearly wilted in relief. “I- I have to. Can you ask him to go to a conference room or something? Like, right now? I know what to say.”

Mika barely waited for Nazuna to finish speaking before pulling his phone from his pocket and texting Shu. The taller man was elsewhere in ES, working on a set piece, but the second he sent his message, Shu came online.

Mika: shu

Shu: Yes?

Mika: nazuna wants to talk

The gray dots stilled, probably as Shu reread the message, and Mika was hit with a sudden wave of deja vu. He'd spent so long staring at his screen, eagerly awaiting his next lifeline.

Shu: Where?

Mika: there's tables overlooking the ES lobby
Mika: on the third floor

Shu: I know them. I'll meet him there.

Oh, Mika prayed this was a good idea.

“Shu says he'll meet you on the third floor in the ES lobby,” he reported, pocketing his phone and standing.

Nazuna slowly followed suit, and a nervous smile touched the corners of his mouth. “You know how weird this is, right, Mika?” he mumbled. “I've spent years thinking Shu's gone forever, and you won't be around him anymore, and now- you're-” Mika must've paled because Nazuna's face softened, and he offered his hand in a silent invitation. “That doesn't matter. It's my turn to talk to him. Give him a piece of my mind.”

“I thought you were sweet,” Mika teased, taking Nazuna's hand and cherishing his brother's quiet snort. “Don't hurt him too bad, alright? We have a lot to do this week, and I don't wanna do it by myself.”

Nazuna didn't quite meet his gaze. “Yeah. I won't.”

Mika led the way out of the cafeteria, keeping Nazuna's hand tight in his. It was a quiet afternoon in ES; most idols were still in school or doing idol work. Mika liked the building with less bustle – even if that meant he had less time to prepare before he saw this through. If this intervention made their unspoken issues worse, Mika would never forgive himself.

No. It wouldn't be his fault. This was between Shu and Nazuna. No matter what, Mika still had both of them.

They just wouldn't have each other.

All too soon, they emerged into the main lobby. More people swarmed around the front desk, and Mika was grateful for the background din. Slowly, he and Nazuna trotted up the stairs and headed for the break tables. The rest area was completely abandoned.

Mika offered as reassuring a smile as he could. “You'll be fine,” he murmured. “I promise.”

Nazuna's returning smile was thin, wavered by nervousness and edged with something Mika didn't recognize. He desperately wanted to stay, but he couldn't be here. Not for this.

He released Nazuna's hand and left.

Time thickened and stretched, bending before Mika as if he was walking through clay. One second, he stood on the third floor. The next, he was back on the ground floor, curled up on a couch with his knees tucked to his chest If he leaned back a little, Mika could see the tables. Nazuna sat, his hands tucked beneath his legs.

Please, let this be the right idea. If this went bad- if this backfired-

Nazuna stiffened suddenly, and Mika frantically scanned the floor. He instantly spotted a familiar head of pink hair sweeping from a hallway, and he sucked in a trembling breath. Shu was rigid, and even from so far away, Mika saw the tension lining the taller man's body.

Please.

Shu sat across from Nazuna. For what felt like a thousand years, Mika waited, barely breathing, mouthing wordless prayers. Shu and Nazuna were visibly awkward, stubbornly not looking at each other, but it was better than-

Nazuna rose with an inaudible roar, fists clenched. Mika almost lurched to his feet, but his horror petrified him – he could only watch as Nazuna slammed his hands against the table, towering over Shu. The taller man didn't look up.

What's happenin'? Mika thought, a little hysterically. C'mon, Nazuna, what're you doin'?

Then Shu rose, and even from so far away, Mika saw raw desperation shining in dark eyes, spiraling, circling, as bright as it'd been back in Paris. His breath caught in his throat, and suddenly, Nazuna stilled. His brother's eyes had gone wide, and when Shu clenched his hands against the tabletop, Nazuna didn't move. He looked blank, shell-shocked, as if something had fractured within him. Mika didn't know whether to panic or not.

Slowly, Nazuna slumped back into his chair. Shu still stood, but the tension had drained from the scene, and Mika finally exhaled, deflating against the couch. His whole body ached, his hands trembled, and gods, he hadn't even realized how terrified he'd been.

A few minutes later, Nazuna walked away. Shu didn't move, a Greek statue frozen in tragedy, and all Mika could do was pray. He'd check up on Nazuna later, make sure his brother hadn't-

“Mika.”

He flinched, scrambling to his feet before his brain had even registered who it was. By the time Mika recognized the soft, hoarse voice, Nazuna had crossed the lobby and stood only a few steps away. Mika inhaled to- apologize? Ask for forgiveness?

Nazuna reached out and dragged him into a bone-crushing hug. He clung to Mika's shirt as if he were afraid he might drown, and Mika hugged back on instinct.

“Nii?” he asked softly. Nazuna shook his head, never lifting his face from Mika's shoulder, so Mika just rested his hand in Nazuna's hair and rocked them both gently. “Okay. I'm real proud of you for doin' that.”

His brother might've said something, but Mika couldn't identify the words. He could feel tears staining his shoulder, though; Nazuna had always hated crying in public. That was okay. Mika had promised to be as strong for Nazuna as his brother had been for him, and now was the time to honor that.

Eventually, Nazuna pulled back. His eyes were red, and tears still trailed down his cheeks. But the hollowness had finally fled his gaze, and when he looked up, he smiled the most genuine smile Mika had seen from him in weeks.

“I love you,” Nazuna whispered.

Mika froze. His brother had never said that before. Mika was always the one calling, “I love you!” when they parted ways. Always. He knew Nazuna loved him, undoubtedly, but never-

In the blink of an eye, his brother was gone, still sniffling and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Mika let him go. He was too stunned to follow.

“That was beneficial.”

Mika glanced over his shoulder, and his heart crawled into his throat. Shu lingered in the shade of a nearby pillar, his hands tucked into his pockets, watching Mika with a weary smile. It seemed as if something had been scrubbed away, and all that was left was an affection so unfiltered and genuine that Mika was left struggling to breathe.

But that came too close to the truth, so Mika hurriedly picked up the pieces of his aching heart and rasped, “Good. Are you guys... okay?”

Shu's smile wavered. “I don't know,” he admitted, slowly striding over to the couches, and Mika tried not to feel too disappointed. “But we have a place to start. Thank you for that.”

Mika nodded. He didn't trust his voice, not between everything he'd accidentally put himself through. Gods, Mika had forgotten how exhausting it was to deal with emotions. Maybe it was best if he went home and slept off his jitters. But before he could say a word, Shu reached out, looping an arm around his waist and tugging him close. For the second time in as many minutes, Mika froze. A blush threatened to color his cheeks, but his confusion overrode his fluttering heartbeat. What the hell had happened?

“I was working on a new set for Dance of the Rushing River,” Shu said conversationally, as if he, someone chronically averse to public displays of affection, wasn't holding Mika close in the middle of the ES lobby. “I had some ideas after reading your revised lyrics.”

Good. Great. A safe topic.

“I'm lookin' forward to seein' it,” Mika said, and he was relieved to find his voice level. “I don't really like the second verse, though. I wanna review it with you later.”

“Mm.” Silence stretched between them, familiar yet somehow unsteady, and for a moment, Mika thought Shu would let go. Instead, the taller man shoved his free hand in his pants pocket. “What was your inspiration for that song? I was always curious.”

The ups and downs of the old Valkyries, mixed with the flowing beauty of a god examining what remained of his ruined domain. Mika's fascination with mythology and his love of weaving tales all his own. Most importantly, the spark, the shudder that'd always crept up his spine when Shu had trained him – the god observing his offering.

“Just mythology,” Mika said weakly. “I read a lot while you were gone.”

“Hm.”

Shu released him in a flurry of movement, already talking about the modifications he'd made to the set and his lighting ideas. Mika followed, tripping over his feet as he went. His heart was hammering so loudly he could barely hear Shu, and his power of higher thinking was still fuzzy at best.

But he'd always follow. No matter what.

“A place to start” was as good as any.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Don't bring Mika into this, Nazuna. He isn't part of our problem.”

“You don't get it; he is part of this! Can't you see what you've done?! He's even worse than before! He's so- so tangled up in you, and this time, he thinks it's real!”

“It is real. Nazuna, I will never hurt him again. If I could, I would undo all the damage, and my regrets will follow me to my grave.”

“How can you promise that? How can you say that after everything you did to him? To me?!”

“I would sooner go back to Paris than make the same mistakes.”

“What? You'd give up your new stage?”

“Without hesitation.”

“Why?”

“I-”

“Why?!”

“I love him!”

“...what?”

“I... love him.”

“Don't lie to me.”

“Why would I lie to you about this? What would that accomplish?”

“I- I don't know. You said you loved me, too, but-”

“That wasn't love. I was nothing more than a broken child looking for any outlet to escape my hellish life. I was blind and destructive, and I took you and Mika down with me. It was obsession and chaos.”

“You... never loved me?”

“No. That twisted thing should not even be mentioned in the same breath as 'love.'”

“I... for so long, I thought... Mika's said he loves me, but I- I thought- god.”

“I am sorry, Nazuna. I was cruel beyond measure.”

“...you really love him?”

“Yes. More than I ever knew I was capable of.”

“And you'll go back to Paris if something happens?”

“Yes. Whatever will keep Mika safe.”

“...I don't want to say this, but... I don't think you'll have to go anywhere. Arashi and Kohaku are both okay with you, and everyone's talking about how Valkyrie is something special. Mika... he looks so happy now. Don't- don't you dare take that away from him again. You don't know what you left behind.”

“I do. I promise you, I do.”

“...Shu. Don't break his heart.”

“I- I won't.”

“...welcome back to Japan.”

Chapter Text

Destruction had always held a peculiar place in Shu's life.

He'd never been averse to tearing apart an old project and rebuilding it; he had no attachment to projects he'd laid to rest. (At least, that'd once been the case.) And yet, Shu thought back to the cinders of a thousand pages he'd burned in Paris and wondered if that could be considered productive – or simple avoidance.

Regardless, striding down ES's bustling corridor, an uncomfortable itch tugged under Shu's skin. Going back to CRAFTMONSTER seemed more like acknowledging a failure than release. For two months, Shu had juggled his mental health well enough to avoid such destructive outlets, and he loathed to surrender that streak now.

A shorter boy suddenly leaped in front of him, and Shu dug his heels in to keep from running him over. A surge of anger flashed through his mind, lighting up his veins and pinning him in place. It vanished a second later, and Shu continued with a heavy sigh.

Alright. Maybe he was a bit stressed. COS PRO had finally handed Valkyrie new opportunities, and though Shu would never complain about a firmer foothold, he was starting to lose sleep over the sheer body of work.

Besides, CRAFTMONSTER had been established as a harmless way for idols to let off steam. Better that Shu indulged in a bit of baser violence than take it out on anyone else.

His phone vibrated, and Shu pulled it from his pocket, expecting a message from Mika. Instead, Kohaku's name filled the screen. Shu frowned and tapped the notification. What on earth did Kohaku want with him?

Kohaku: Are you coming to CRAFTMONSTER? It's been two months since you signed up, and I haven't seen your face in this room once.
Kohaku: If you don't come today, I'm taking your old desk. I don't know why no one ever stole it.

What a nuisance.

Shu: I'm three minutes away, Oukawa.

Kohaku: I'll start a timer.

Shu huffed. Insufferable. He refused to lose this (admittedly childish) bet, but while Hold-hands was still open, Shu might as well check his conversation with Mika. No such luck; the shorter man still hadn't responded. He heaved a melodramatic sigh and sent a second message.

Shu: If you don't pick, I will.

50/50 chance Mika would instantly send something back, or just leave it so Shu would take the decision out of his hands. Either way, Shu pocketed his phone and picked up the pace.

Most of the idols in ES's hallways were new faces, students or young adults fresh out of school. Most of them knew nothing about Shu or his legacy – they probably called him the newcomer who'd somehow partnered with Monarch, and he relished that anonymity. Even if it was inevitably short-lived.

Still, even the most clueless student knew to scramble out of his way, and Shu couldn't help a pleased smile.

Exactly two and a half minutes later, Shu stepped into CRAFTMONSTER's workshop. Across the room, a head of pink hair snapped up. Shu stared back cooly. Kohaku rolled his eyes and jabbed at his phone, presumably turning off the timer. Challenge won.

Like the design studio, CRAFTMONSTER had been cleaned, reorganized, and given new life. However, its chaotic nature hadn't faded in the slightest. Tools were scattered everywhere, papers and felts were strewn across every desk, and a few splatters of paint and clay had found their way beyond the protective tarps. Shu would've had a stroke if his own workspace were so messy, but as a guest in the broader scope of chaos, it was oddly welcoming.

Only five people loitered around. The younger Sakuma hovered by the window, painstakingly painting what looked like a small figurine. Yuuki was gone (as far as Shu had heard, he'd moved to the technical department after Trickstar's disbanding), but Hidaka was efficiently stitching a pattern onto dark felt. Kohaku scowled down at a piece of paper, and the absence of the elder Amagi released a weight Shu hadn't realized he'd been carrying. An unfamiliar man with long, black hair flicked through the fabric rack, and by the pottery wheels-

HiMERU.

Well... Shu should've known better than to expect smooth sailing.

But he could tackle that conversation later. Shu shut the door soundlessly behind him and headed for his old worktable. Everything was as he'd left it, save for the trinkets and tools he'd brought to Paris, and a shiver of unease shot up Shu's spine. It looked untouched by time.

Might as well start creating, then.

Shu's first thoughtless project was a copper flower the size of his palm, twisted into shape with pliers and gently hammered to hide the jagged edges. Though he'd intended to smash it with the hammer upon completion, something about the little flower gave him pause. It was... elegant. Attractive, even.

He dropped the flower into his jacket pocket and tried not to feel too silly.

Shu's second creation was as amateur and trashy as he'd expected, and he hated the pot on sight. He'd painted it with a fresh set of acrylics, yet it irked him, mocked him, asked what business he had trying to improve something that didn't need improvement.

Logically, he knew he was projecting.

But CRAFTMONSTER had never been a place for talk therapy, so Shu snatched the pot and his hammer and marched across the workshop. He set the grayish-blue lump in a destruction bin, then brought the hammer down with a snarl.

It exploded. Shards hurtled away from the point of impact, slamming into the bin's walls in a hail of shattered pieces.

To Shu's immense disappointment, he immediately felt better.

“You're still one of us, are you? Maybe Valkyrie isn't above the crowd.”

The smooth voice was closer than Shu had expected, only a couple of paces behind him. For a beat, Shu considered walking away and pretending he hadn't heard a thing. This was supposed to be his period of relief, not another headache.

But what was the point if he didn't address the root of his stressors?

Shu silently cursed his therapist (who probably would've laughed at him), then turned. HiMERU stood at a pottery wheel, examining a large clay urn that wobbled unsteadily with each rotation. He looked... different. His posture was looser, and his hair had grown out. Odd.

“I was never above the crowd,” Shu said tiredly, and the corners of HiMERU's mouth ticked up in a dry smile. Even odder. “I didn't expect to see 'you' here.”

“I'm full of surprises.”

Shu stiffened. HiMERU lifted his gaze, and instantly, Shu saw the difference – the other man's eyes were sharp and focused, no longer hiding behind a younger facade.

“You are?” Shu repeated slowly.

HiMERU's smile gained a touch of satisfaction. “Hisato Tojo. Welcome back to Japan, Itsuki.”

His voice was deeper and looser, with a carelessness that would've set Shu on edge had he been a few years younger. As it was, all he felt was a flicker of curiosity. From what Mika had told him and what he'd gleaned from Kohaku's stories, after Crazy:B had disbanded, the remaining members had gone into a tailspin. Kohaku had dedicated himself to idol work to survive, and HiMERU had been free to slip away.

But if Kaname hadn't taken his place...

“What are you doing here?” Shu asked, curious despite himself.

“Hm.”

HiMERU – no, Tojo – glanced towards the windows. Shu followed his gaze, and with a jolt, he realized the (older) man was looking at Kohaku and Hidaka.

“My brother didn't want his stage,” Tojo admitted, too quietly. “He had other aspirations. But I couldn't leave. I... wasn't done.”

“Freebirds,” Shu guessed.

“Yes. I believe you know our other member, Kaoru. He came to us straight after UNDEAD's disbanding. And Hokuto-” HiMERU – Tojo; god, it was somehow more bizarre to use his real name than that ridiculous stage name – nodded at the younger man. “-might join us,” he finished. “Freebirds was my second chance at this industry.” Amber eyes flicked up to Shu. “And it seems you found one of your own.”

It was an insult wrapped in a compliment, but Shu decided to let it slide. Tojo wasn't wrong, after all; he'd gotten a do-over, and he had to respect the other man for chasing a new ambition.

“Congratulations,” Shu offered, and it came out more genuine than he'd meant. “You look better under Freebirds.”

“I feel better,” Tojo agreed. He eyed Shu, searching for the answer to an unspoken question, then cracked a slight smile. “The same to you, Itsuki. I caught a few minutes of your Live with Kagehira. I never expected to see Valkyrie again, but... well, I'm sure Kohaku has given you more than enough praise throughout the process.”

A snort escaped before Shu could stop it, and Tojo's smile lifted into something much warmer. “Hardly,” Shu muttered, tossing a glare at Kohaku's turned back. As expected (the workshop was deathly quiet, after all), Kohaku flipped him off without looking up. “Has he been complaining about us?”

Tojo chuckled. “He's always complaining.” Kohaku shouted a protest from the other side of the room. They both ignored him. “But since he spends more time in your practices than ours, I'd say he likes your work.”

“Hey!”

In the blink of an eye, Kohaku darted to Tojo and glared at the taller man, still holding a pair of fabric scissors. Shu was torn between capturing the absurd scene and fleeing the conversation entirely. He decided to take a healthy step back and snap a quick picture, just for posterity's sake.

“You're our fearless leader,” Kohaku continued, irate, waving the scissors wildly. Tojo did not look intimidated. “So it ain't my fault if we haven't done any Lives lately. At least in Itsuki's rehearsals, he listens to my input!”

Tojo glanced over. “You listen to him?”

“Mika trusts him,” Shu said mildly. “And I trust his judgment. So, yes.”

Kohaku made another stabbing gesture. “Ha!”

The Freebirds leader looked between them, and for a second, surprise flickered through his eyes. Shu almost smiled. He couldn't blame Tojo; a few years ago, he hadn't even known Kohaku's name, let alone been close enough to bicker with him.

It was better this way, Shu thought. He felt... lighter.

Maybe destruction wasn't what he'd needed.

“If you collaborate so often,” Tojo said archly, and he pushed Kohaku aside, “then talk away from my workspace. This vase needs my full attention.”

“It's crooked,” Kohaku chipped in gleefully. Tojo flicked a piece of clay at the shorter man, and Kohaku shied away with a yelp. Shu caught Tojo's gaze (and the slight smile he'd never seen Tojo wear before), nodded farewell, and followed Kohaku away. Their conversation had been over, anyway. “No respect,” Kohaku muttered, examining his sleeve with a critical eye. “It's not like I founded Freebirds with him or anythin'.”

“You aren't the leader, either,” Shu added, and Kohaku shot him a dirty look. “Whatever happened to Amagi? I never heard.”

Kohaku blinked, seemingly startled out of his ire. “Oh, Mika never told you?” Shu shook his head, and the shorter man sighed. “Ah, well, it ain’t a long story. Amagi left and took Niki with him. Tojo and I knew it was gonna happen, y'know, but he didn't even say goodbye.”

“Did you expect him to?”

Shu knew it was a mean question and expected the glare, but it still made him chuckle.

“'course I didn't,” Kohaku muttered darkly. “But he still abandoned us. Just up and left. Tojo and I had to ask Anzu to figure out what had happened. An asshole to the very end. But, I mean-” The shorter man shrugged, and his expression cleared, replaced by a warmth that verged into fondness. “Like Tojo said,” he murmured, “it ain't all bad. He got better after he started performin' as 'Hisato Tojo,' even with the backlash, and Hakaze's- he's an ass, but he's a good guy. Better idol.”

Even after two months of walking alongside each other, stuck together in the same social group, Shu had never really thought of Kohaku as more than a friend of a friend. But looking at the shorter man – who'd fought tooth and nail to keep his life together and bring his friends with him – something shifted in Shu's chest. It was barely recognizable, merely a change from one label to another. And yet, it made Shu feel horrifyingly comfortable.

A friend.

Kohaku glanced up and wrinkled his nose, and the moment shattered. “You're lucky you came in today,” he warned. “Or I woulda taken your spot.”

“I'm sure,” Shu returned dryly. “You couldn't have possibly moved during these last three years.”

“Hey-! Gods, Mika's right; you're awful when you're in a good mood.”

A smile threatened to break through, and even Shu's best attempts to hide it didn't quite work. He was in a good mood. So, before Kohaku could see the hints of his amusement and piece anything together (because he was abnormally attentive), Shu strode away.

“And you're insufferable no matter your mood,” he called over his shoulder. He sank back into his chair and absolutely did not smile as Kohaku shouted a few choice words after him, only to be immediately shushed by the younger Sakuma and scolded by Tojo.

No. He didn't need to destroy anything.

Still, CRAFTMONSTER's workshop was open for another hour, and Mika still hadn't responded to his message. Shu pulled the copper flower out of his jacket and turned it over in his fingers. The design was simple and surprisingly easy to make. The workshop was stocked with ample copper, too, so with a bit of patience, Shu could make more.

A shadow fell across his desk.

Shu tensed. He hadn't heard the stranger approach, and of all the men in the room, only Kohaku crept. Alarm bells wailed in his head, triggered by a rush of unease, and slowly, he glanced up.

Recognition slammed into place, and a cold wave flooded Shu's chest, drowning out everything except rage.

“I know,” the man said wearily, raising his hands in submission. “I'm sorry to bother you, Itsuki. But please hear me out.”

Shu was on his feet before he could think, torn between a thousand different courses of action. He'd hardly call himself trained in self-defense, but his heart howled for revenge, strained against the thin threads of his self-control. That scene in the practice room still haunted Shu – so did Mika's dull, blank eyes, the way the shorter man curled against him, shaking with fear.

But Shu hadn't gotten a good look at the other members of Astaroth, and now, he stared at a man a few inches shorter than him, with long, dark hair and pale eyes ringed with exhaustion.

This didn't look like Amemori. This man barely looked alive.

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” Shu demanded. He silently cursed his curious tone, but the man deflated in relief.

“My name is Masashi Tsuge. I want to apologize for everything Amemori has done. To your unit and everyone else.”

That... was nowhere near what Shu had expected. Disbelief and lingering resentment (combined with a burgeoning feeling of queasiness) churned in his gut, pushing him between fighting and simply sitting back down. Worst of all, Shu had the horrible suspicion that if he threw a punch, Tsuge would take it without complaint.

“I'm not the one you should apologize to,” Shu said carefully. “I only just returned. Mika has been the one to deal with your harassment.”

The corners of Tsuge's eyes softened. “You knew, didn't you? That day, in the practice room. You were protecting him.”

Shu wanted to be furious. He wanted to strangle this man for daring to bring up that altercation so calmly, as if Mika hadn't been dazed for the rest of the day. But the longer he looked at Tsuge, the more the shorter man looked like a soldier who'd seen years of combat. It unnerved him.

Tsuge said nothing for a beat, examining him in much the same way Tojo had, then released a sigh that carried the weight of the world. He opened a hand. On his palm sat a small flash drive.

“This is evidence,” Tsuge murmured. “Everything Teruo, Tadashi, and I could put together. There's footage and pictures and some written statements. It was all legally obtained.”

Shu stared. Everything about this interaction was bizarre enough, but being handed the key that would remove Amemori from the industry? That was too good to be true. The flash drive carried a virus, surely, or maybe it was Amemori's attempts at playing mind games.

But that didn't make sense, either. He had none of Amagi's cunning.

“I know you've got no reason to trust me, Itsuki,” Tsuge added, and he offered a battered smile that made Shu's skin crawl. “But at least take it and look at what we have. With your testimony and everything he-” Tsuge winced. “-we did to Monarch, you should have enough for a restraining order. The board of internal affairs isn't your only option.”

Too easy. Too many unknowns, most especially Tsuge's motive for doing this now.

But when Shu closed his eyes, he sat on the practice room's floor, cradling Mika to his chest as the other Valkyrie shed silent tears. This allowed him to take Mika's rejected harassment reports and throw them back in Rhythm Link's face until they listened. This could make things better.

Shu inhaled sharply and snatched the flash drive from Tsuge's palm. “You know you're damning yourself with this, yes?” he asked curtly, even though he already knew the answer. “If this proves that Amemori is dangerous, you and the rest of your unit will be indicted as his accomplices.”

“I don't care,” Tsuge said plainly. “None of us do. Itsuki, we're being compared to Crazy:B. And Amemori-” He cut himself off with a wavering breath, and when he released it, he looked ten years older. “We're regular idols,” he continued in a whisper. “All we wanted was Astaroth. But Rhythm Link wanted their new UNDEAD. Just- think about it. Please. Get Amemori out, whatever it takes.”

It was desperation haunting Tsuge's face; Shu could see that now. His heart twisted until each sluggish beat hurt. Was it pity? Anger? Or was it regret filling his chest as he stared at an idol whose dreams had been smashed into pieces?

Shu pocketed the flash drive wordlessly, and Tsuge sagged as if he'd been laid to rest. It reminded Shu too much of the faces he'd passed every day in Yumenosaki, wandering numbly through the halls.

That had almost been him.

“Why?” Shu asked, too quietly.

Tsuge shoved his hands in his pockets. “I told you. We wanted a three-person unit, and we'll never have that now. But if you're asking why you... we wanted to go to Monarch. His case is the most likely to succeed since his reports bounced three times. That's negligence from our producers. But he'd never talk to us, and I don't blame him. You've got his influence. Besides-” Tsuge's smile became a bit more genuine. “I think you understand that we're willing to go down with this.”

With that, Tsuge was gone. He slipped back to his workspace, hidden in the chaos of yet another bickering match between Kohaku and Tojo, which Hidaka had somehow gotten roped into. The only proof of their conversation was the flash drive nestled in his pocket.

Slowly, Shu sat. He blindly reached for the pile of copper he'd collected and started twisting it, only to give his hands something to do.

Even if he made the naive decision to trust Tsuge's word, what was the precedent for a legal case between agencies? Shu had half a mind to take the man's advice and go straight to the police; that would certainly constitute action. But such a massive case would affect the industry as a whole. But doing nothing meant Amemori would go free, and his reign of dimwitted, malicious terror would continue. But if their case bounced again, Valkyrie's reputation would be tarnished beyond repair.

“Oi, Itsuki!”

Shu blinked. It felt like he was waking up from a fitful night of sleep; the world was fuzzy at the edges, off-color and blurry. When he glanced up, Kohaku stood at his shoulder.

“Itsuki?” the shorter man repeated, and a frown creased his brow. “You with me? I was shoutin' into your ear.”

Kohaku wasn't part of this. Freebirds had been left untouched, and, ultimately, wasn't it Mika's call? Tsuge had claimed that Astaroth wanted the flash drive to go to him.

Yeah. Before Shu made a decision, he had to talk to Mika and look through the flash drive together.

He shook himself roughly, and the world popped back into focus. His ears cleared, the haze faded from Shu's mind, and he was suddenly acutely aware of how sore his fingers were. How long had he been fiddling with that piece of copper?

“I'm fine,” Shu said, lying through his teeth. “What is it?”

Kohaku clearly wasn't convinced (and Shu hadn't expected him to be), but the shorter man had the grace to move on. “I'm lookin' for the fabric scissors. I know you were usin' the hammer, but Hokuto doesn't have 'em, and-” Kohaku paused, and he pointed at the desk. “What the hell is that?”

Shu followed Kohaku's gaze and instantly realized why his fingers were numb. While lost in thought, he'd made a pile of copper flowers, all different sizes and patterns, with twisted stems on each. With one last copper band lashing them together at the bottom, it would be a bouquet of metal flowers.

Mika likes flowers.

Mademoiselle lingered just long enough to giggle, and Shu scowled at the teasing. She wasn't wrong, though.

Against his better judgment, Shu grabbed one last piece of copper scrap and began hammering it into shape. “It's a project I'm keeping,” he announced, stubbornly ignoring Kohaku's incredulous stare. “I don't have the scissors. Go bother Sakuma.”

“Alright, alright. Geez.”

Light footsteps tapped away, leaving Shu alone with the bouquet. This time, he focused all his attention on the process. The band was loose, of course, as the workshop had no welding equipment, and the flowers rattled if Shu shook them too hard. But it was more than suitable as a simple gift.

Because that was the point of CRAFTMONSTER. Spending an obscene amount of time to make a metal bouquet, only to keep it instead of smashing the flowers to pieces. Yes. Absolutely.

Shu's phone vibrated, and he gratefully took the interruption. Three new messages waited for him – all from Mika.

Mika: aah i'm sorry! arashi and i are shopping and my phone ran out of battery
Mika: we passed an italian restaurant that looked really good
Mika: can we go there?

Shu was typing before his brain fully registered the words.

Shu: Of course. Send me the address, and I'll meet you there.

Mika: you're done at craftmonster already?

Shu: Yes. I feel better.

Mika: ok!! you're gonna get there before me
Mika: arashi's still trying something on

A picture of Arashi disgustedly examining herself in a mirror entered the chat, and Shu couldn't stifle a cough of laughter. It was immediately followed by a shared location, which his phone said was a fifteen-minute walk away.

Mika: can you get me something to drink?

Shu: Surely she won't be that long.

Mika: it's arashi
Mika: i can't promise anything

Another snort slipped out before Shu could stop it, and when he looked up, he found Kohaku watching him with narrowed eyes. Shu smiled blithely, which only made the shorter man scowl, then snatched his metal bouquet and headed for the door. He didn't bother to say goodbye – Kohaku hated it when he left without a word.

The hallway was even more packed than before. Idols of all ages seethed in their chaotic ocean, and the din of chatter made Shu's head ache. He set his jaw and dove into the stream. Thankfully, no one was leaving ES, and within minutes, Shu emerged into the afternoon sunlight. He took a few healthy breaths before starting off towards the street.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Then again. Then again.

Alright, time to see what long-winded rant Kohaku had sent him.

Shu withdrew his phone and promptly did a double-take. It wasn't Kohaku – not only him, at least. Someone had made a group chat on Hold-hands and included him. With a sinking feeling, Shu tapped on the notifications.

Kohaku: Itsuki's making plans without us.
Kohaku: @Mika what are you guys doing? I know Itsuki won't tell me.

Mika: we ain't doing anything!

Arashi: mika's smiling at his phone
Arashi: they must be doing something

Mika: no!!!!

Arashi: <3

It was immediately followed by a picture of Mika perched on a boutique chair, gazing at his phone and wearing a beret that Arashi had clearly plopped on his head. He'd smooshed his cheek into his left hand, and his dopey grin was all too obvious.

Briefly, Shu wondered if it was possible to go into cardiac arrest from seeing something so cute that it made his heart ache.

Kohaku: You're both idiots.
Kohaku: @Shu I know you're reading this!

Mika: nooooo don't bother him

Arashi: @Shu tell us where you're going so i know what outfit to buy for mika
Arashi: it's important to always look your best, no matter how many dates it's been!!

Mika: ARSHI

Kohaku: You missed a letter.

Getting involved in the conversation was an absolutely terrible idea. Shu knew that, and every logical bone in his body begged him to look at the directions to the restaurant, then turn his phone off.

Shu: A restaurant. Italian.

Mika: SHUUU

Arashi: oh that new place!! mika and i saw it today
Arashi: hmmm i can work with that

Kohaku: Betrayal.

Mika: HOW DID U EVEN NWOR
Mika: KNOW

Kohaku: Itsuki made flowers in CRAFTMONSTER and took them with him instead of destroying them.
Kohaku: Who else would he give it to?
Kohaku: Besides, he never smiles unless he's talking to Mika.

Shu couldn't help a scowl, and he only waited to cross the street before furiously typing a response.

Shu: I hope you never find those scissors, Oukawa.

Kohaku: Ha! See?

Arashi: awwwwww shu!!!
Arashi: alright mika we have to make you look amazing <3 he's spoiling you today

Mika: GETAWHAF


Shu rolled his eyes at the interaction, then looked up and realized he was a step away from walking into a light pole. He glanced around, just to make sure no one had seen him, then shoved his phone into his pocket.

He was not flushed. He was not smiling, either. And, above all else, he was not holding a bouquet that he'd illogically and irrationally wanted to be a surprise.

...god, this was so ridiculous.

Ten minutes later, Shu pushed through the door of the Italian restaurant in question. Its sign proclaimed it as “Faraway Nook,” and Shu had to admit, it was charming. The outside had been decorated with flower boxes, and inside, warm lights glittered overhead, illuminating a cozy dining room. It was surprisingly empty given the time of day, and, with a thrill of delight Shu stubbornly tried to repress, he spotted an open table for two by the window.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted, and the waiter behind the counter beamed. “Is the window seat reserved?”

“No, sir,” the waiter said brightly. “Sit wherever you'd like. Just so you know, our menu is all online, which you can find by scanning the code here.” She tapped the QR code plastered on the countertop, and Shu dutifully scanned it. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Lavender tea or chamomile.” The waiter scribbled a note with a nod, and Shu bemusedly wondered which he would receive. “And iced tea.”

The waiter vanished into the kitchen, so Shu headed to the table. He swung his jacket over his chair, carefully set the bouquet on the table, then sat, stifling an unreasonable quell of anxiety. He and Mika had had lunch a thousand times in Paris. For god's sake, they ate breakfast and dinner together most days!

...no matter how many dates it's been.

Shu scowled and yanked his phone from his pocket, scanning the conversation he'd left behind. Thankfully, the other three had settled down, and only a few unread messages awaited him.

Mika: arashi is making me pay for the clothes she picked

Arashi: i am not!! i just said you look amazing in that jacket, and i think you should get it for your summer wardrobe
Arashi: the seasonal change is coming, mika!

Mika: and then u left me at the counter while you ran off to look at something else
Mika: this is blackmail

Kohaku: No, it's not.

Mika: u started this
Mika: i'm never gonna forgive you

Arashi: @Shu tell me what you think!!
Arashi: he cleans up pretty well <3



He shouldn't respond. He shouldn't respond.

Shu: @Arashi Yes, I know.

God, he was an idiot.

Arashi: mm
Arashi: i guess you would
Arashi: he should be there soon! i sent him on his way once i realized you were waiting for him
Arashi: have fun~



Shu: I should be grateful that you let him go before you bought an entire store. We don't have that much space in the apartment.

Kohaku: Consolidate your closets. There, problem solved.

Shu: Do you know how mass works? Our clothes will still take up the same amount of space.

A direct message from Mika flashed on screen, and Shu instantly tapped it – anything to get away from Arashi and Kohaku.

Mika: i'm real sorry it took me so long
Mika: arashi wouldn't let me go
Mika: i'll be there in a few minutes

Shu: Don't worry, I just arrived. I'm sitting by the window.

Mika: ok!!

The green light next to Mika's name went dim, and Shu dutifully set his phone aside, making sure to silence it before doing so. Admittedly, Arashi's and Kohaku's endless ribbing had gotten under his skin, but faced with the mundane messages he and Mika always exchanged, Shu's heartbeat settled.

He hadn't appreciated those lunches back in Paris. He hadn't appreciated anything about Paris as much as he should've. In a way, Shu missed the easy languidness, drifting between his apartment and shops and, towards the end of his three-year sojourn, visiting various fashion institutions around Paris. They'd worked together seamlessly, even back then.

More than anything, Shu missed their quiet nights outside, with no obligations except existence. Maybe it was worth trying to bring that into his current life – god only knew the stress was piling up.

The front door jangled open, and Shu glanced up instinctively. He instantly zeroed in on the familiar hair of dark hair and a lopsided smile – and for a moment, Shu could only stare, his heart beating slow and warm in his chest.

Mika was always beautiful; that was mere fact. His eyes shone with life, and his smile – god, Shu was weak to that smile. But in the hands of a master like Arashi, Mika became angelic. A white coat swirled around him, slipping from his shoulders as he moved. The waiter pointed towards Shu, and Mika's smile brightened, cheeks flushed pink with simple joy. In the amber light of the afternoon, his Monarch earring flashed.

Shu swallowed thickly. Alright, Narukami. You did well.

“I'm so sorry,” Mika moaned as he collapsed into the opposite seat, shrugging out of his coat as he went. “Next time, I'm gonna tell her I have plans before she drags me out.”

Shu attempted to speak, but the words stuck in his throat, caught by a revolving loop of, You're beautiful, Kagehira. He quickly took a sip of tea (ah, lavender), then tried again.

“All you bought was a coat?” Shu asked. His voice came out blessedly smooth. Then he noticed the plastic bag dangling from Mika's chair, half-crushed by the coat, and raised his eyebrows. “And a nondescript white bag?”

“Those are groceries,” Mika corrected. “You were runnin' low on sugars and stuff you make your candies with. Don't worry, I got the same brands!”

Even after so long, Mika's easy generosity still struck Shu in the heart. “Thank you.”

Mika's eyes crinkled. “I'm bein' selfish. I ran out of sweets today.”

Shu snorted, covering his mouth to stifle a laugh, and the shorter man grinned even wider. He inhaled, then froze, and his eyes went wide. With a jolt, Shu remembered the bouquet of metal flowers sitting between them. Equal parts panic and pride washed through his chest, though panic took the lead as Mika reached out, running a reverent finger across the petals.

“I didn't think Kohaku was serious,” Mika mumbled. “I thought- is-”

Damn you, Oukawa, Shu thought, and he plucked the bouquet from the table, carefully holding it out to Mika. “It violates CRAFTMONSTER's ethos,” he admitted, if only to disguise how badly his hand trembled, “but I thought it worthy of salvaging.”

Mika had always been grateful for gifts – Shu knew, after years of conversations, that Mika had been the gift-giver as a child, and anything received was precious beyond measure to him. Even things he found were treasured simply because they were his own.

Yet Shu still feared Mika's reaction.

The shorter man took it gently, curling his fingers around the band. His eyes shone, brilliant blue and warm amber, and when he smiled, his mouth trembled. Against his better judgment (as seemed to be his motto for the day), Shu subtly lifted his phone and took a picture. He didn't bother checking the image – the memory of his partner's reaction was all he truly wanted.

“It's beautiful.” Mika brought the bouquet to his chest, gazing down at it with teary eyes, and Shu decided that he could've sat there for the rest of the afternoon. Then Mika collapsed into a fit of giggles, and the spell lifted, reforming into an atmosphere of warmth. “Kohaku was right,” the shorter man said, still giggling. “You aren't s'posed to walk out of CRAFTMONSTER with more stuff.”

Shu groaned, and his remaining flicker of annoyance was worth suffering through to hear Mika's delighted peal of laughter. “Don't tell Oukawa that,” he ordered. “He's insufferable as it is.”

“I hafta!” Mika protested. “C'mon, Shu, lemme take a picture of these! I really wanna show Arashi and Kohaku!”

Rubbing it in Kohaku's face didn't sound so bad. Arashi's teasing would be relentless, undoubtedly, but Shu decided to worry about that once they were back at their apartment and out of this little afternoon fantasy. So, with the sinking feeling that this would come back to bite him, Shu took Mika's phone from the shorter man's waiting hand and snapped a few pictures. Mika grinned, charmingly impish, and immediately sent both. Shu leaned forward to read the screen upside down.

Arashi: NO WAY

Kohaku: Did you not believe me?

Arashi: THTAS SO
Arashi: MIKAAAA YOU HAVE TO SHARE HIM
Arashi: I WANT FLOWERS

“Tell her I'll buy her candy flowers,” Shu drawled, and mismatched eyes still glittering with light flicked up to him. Shu stumbled as his heart thudded harder, swallowed, and continued, “As a belated birthday gift.”

Mika snickered. He was adorable when he was being devilish.

Mika: he says he'll get u candy flowers
Mika: since he missed ur birthday

Kohaku: Why are you typing for him
Kohaku: Make him do it himself.



Arashi: THATS NOT THE SAME AND HE KNOWS IT
Arashi: UGH MIKA
Arashi: NOT FAIR

Mika typed something Shu couldn't read fast enough, then set his phone aside and neatly laced his fingers. If not for his distinctly pleased grin, he would've looked as innocent as always.

“You're more sadistic than I thought, Kagehira,” Shu said dryly, and Mika's grin broadened, his eyes flashing with delight. “Well, you're here now. Their menu is online, and I waited for you to order. Did you get the QR code?”

Mika blinked. “Oh, naw, I didn't see it.”

The shorter man hopped up, so Shu unlocked his phone and opened the menu. They had a surprisingly sizable selection, with what seemed to be authentic Italian recipes. When Mika returned, Shu still hadn't gotten through the entrees.

“The lunch options are under the second tab,” he said for Mika's benefit. “I wouldn't mind a salad, so long as it's fresh.” The other man was silent. Shu glanced up and found Mika staring at his phone, absently worrying at his lip. “What?”

A pink blush spiraled across Mika's cheeks, almost tinging the tips of his ears. Shu would've found it adorable had he not been so confused. “Aah...” Mika coughed, his blush worsening, then gingerly pointed at the screen. “I don't- know what any of this is.”

Shu stared. “We had Italian near the border in France. Ce restaurant au bord de-”

“No, no, I remember that. I can't-” Mika pressed his lips together, then exhaled softly. “I don't recognize any of these names when it's not in French,” he mumbled.

It was an understandable problem; French and Japanese adopted foreign words entirely differently, and only Shu's fluency in French made the shift easier. But Mika's embarrassment sparked a chuckle in his chest he couldn't contain, and when the other man jutted out his bottom lip, Shu burst out laughing.

“Stop!” Mika protested, flapping aimlessly. Shu stifled his laughter as best he could with one hand and deflected Mika's attacks with the other. “C'mon, I haven't practiced French since you got back! Just tell me if there's somethin' I like? Please?”

Shu wiped at his eyes with a finger (god, he must be exhausted to have laughed so hard), then blindly reached for his phone. “You fool,” he said, desperately stifling his lingering chuckles. Mika made a noise of protest, but Shu talked over him. “Yes, yes, I already saw a couple of dishes. Papillons, nouilles... I believe they have a large plate of gnocchi.”

Mika brightened. “Oh, that sounds good. Do you wanna split it? I don't wanna ruin dinner.”

Right, Shu had forgotten how late it was. He hummed his agreement and placed the order for both of them – and included a piece of tiramisu, which he opted not to tell Mika about. Thanks to their successful Lives and Monarch's vast fortune, the cost of lunch was but a blip in their funds. Still, Shu scowled as he reluctantly paid. Everything around ES was so ridiculously overpriced.

“The wait time was ten minutes,” Shu reported, and Mika bobbed his head. He looked so content, and Shu's heart twisted, stretched and slashed by the flash drive in his pocket. He hated to ruin lunch, but with every second Mika didn't know what Tsuge had told him, the worse Shu felt.

Slim fingers tapped the table, and Shu looked up to find mismatched eyes fixed on him.

“What's goin' on?” Mika asked softly. “You look all worried. Did somethin' happen at ES that you ain't tellin' me?”

It was teasing, clearly, but too accurate for Shu's liking. He gazed back at his partner, and for one blissful moment, he tried to capture Mika's gentle expression. It would vanish as soon as he spoke, and he, selfishly, wanted it to stay. Surely it could wait.

...no. It couldn't.

He inhaled deeply and dug the flash drive out of his pocket, holding it between his fingers for Mika's inspection. “I got this at CRAFTMONSTER today,” he explained, and Mika poked at it with a frown. “Masashi Tsuge gave it to me.”

Mika ripped his hand away as if burned. The playful glimmer was gone, replaced by a searing panic that made Shu want to forget the whole conversation. But he had to see it through. He had to, because Mika's reaction made something ugly rear its head in his heart, filling his veins with fire.

“He claimed that Astaroth has been gathering evidence against Amemori, and this-” Shu pinched the flash driver tighter. “-is everything they have. He asked me to make a case against Amemori.”

“What?” Mika croaked, hysteria edging his voice. “But-”

“I haven't looked at it yet,” Shu soothed, and to his relief, Mika relaxed a little. “So I don't know what they have. But if there is a chance Astaroth has been working in earnest, I plan to honor Tsuge's request. For his sake as much as ours.” Mika's expression morphed into a slight frown, and Shu elaborated, “Tsuge also claimed the group no longer cares what happens to them.”

Mika looked away again, and his eyes were murky, lost in the past, bogged down by memories Shu had never pried into – and never wanted to, if only for how much the other Valkyrie had been hurt by them.

“It's only Amemori that's been a problem,” Mika mumbled eventually. “It ain't fair to the others.”

Such a good soul. Too good for the industry.

“What they've done isn't fair to you, either,” Shu said, a little sharper than he'd meant. Thankfully, Mika didn't flinch. (Shu still feared that reaction.) “I can hand this over to Saegusa and let him construct the case, but if you're willing, I want to build it ourselves.”

I want to personally take him down, Shu didn't say, squeezing the flash drive until the edges dug into his palm. This is revenge, Mika.

Still, no use pushing the issue.

Shu tucked the flash drive away and offered a faint smile of apology. “We don't have to decide now,” he added. “Just think about it. Your testimony won't lose its value if we wait a few more weeks.”

Mika shot him a pained look. “'Just thinkin' 'bout it' is still a lot of pressure,” he whined. Then his gloomy expression finally slipped into a smile, and Shu allowed himself to chuckle. Thank god. “Why did you tell me that before we ate? Now my stomach hurts.”

“You asked,” Shu said, indignant. “I wouldn't lie to you.”

A beat.

“Naw,” Mika murmured. “You wouldn't.”

The waiter chose that moment to arrive, setting the two dishes (and an extra plate) on the table. Shu hid his uneven smile in the flurry of activity, first thanking the waiter for the food, then splitting the gnocchi as evenly as he could. Mika eyed the tiramisu delightedly, but he said nothing, and Shu didn't explain.

And suddenly, it became a normal lunch. Mika dug in with ravenous hunger while Shu followed at a slower pace. A few times, Mika stabbed extra gnocchi from Shu's plate. Shu never protested except for clacking his fork against Mika's, fending off seconds (or sevenths, if he was keeping track). Once Mika was done, he launched into his tales of the day, and Shu happily listened.

That had always been one of his favorite things in Paris, too. Listening to Mika's stories.

As Shu polished off his plate, Mika launched into a rant about Arashi's tendency to stick him in every outfit she could.

“I don't wanna be her dress-up doll every time,” he whined. “The stuff she picks always looks nice, but my arms get tired.”

“You never complained when I used you as a model,” Shu noted amusedly.

Mika flushed. “I didn't mind with you. You at least told me what you were plannin'.”

Shu heard the words, repeated them in his mind, then promptly took another bite of gnocchi. Mika continued as if nothing had happened, and silently, Shu wondered if Nazuna was glaring at him from several miles away. God, he prayed Arashi or Kohaku hadn't relayed their text conversation to Nazuna. The shorter man might try to kill him while he slept.

“Don't overeat,” Shu warned when they tackled the tiramisu, clacking his fork against Mika's. “The last thing we need is for you to be sick over the weekend.”

Mika wrinkled his nose. “I know what I'm doin'.” And, to prove his point, he promptly cut himself a large bite of tiramisu and chomped down on it with unabashed glee.

“Fool,” Shu muttered with no real heat. Mika grinned.

Half an hour later, they were heading home in the setting sunlight. Shu usually preferred to drive home after a meal instead of walking, but Mika had bounded onto the sidewalk, and Shu decided not to ruin the other man's mood. (He'd done enough of that with the flash drive still sitting in his pocket.)

The walk home was blessedly uneventful. By 7 P.M., they'd entered their building and were on the way up to the third floor. Shu couldn't help a sigh of relief as he stepped out of his shoes and into his inside slippers.

“My feet hurt,” Mika moaned. He'd collapsed next to the still-open door and was flapping helplessly at his fluffy slippers. Shu nudged them into Mika's grasp, and the shorter man made an appreciative noise. “Can't we go to bed yet? I'm tired.”

“The night is still young, Kagehira,” Shu said archly, and Mika let out a melodramatic, wordless whine. God, he had no right to be that adorable. “We can't ignore a deadline just because we wore ourselves out.”

“It ain't my fault!” Mika protested. “I told Arashi we had to draft and stuff tonight, and she just laughed at me!”

Shu eyed the shorter man, desperately stifling an amused smile, then offered a helping hand. Mika immediately took it, and Shu hauled him to his feet. Briefly, Shu appreciated that Mika was heavier than he once was – the benefit of finally eating proper meals and sleeping enough.

Aloud, he ordered, “Change into something comfortable and don't lie down. I'll find our draft.”

Mika groaned again, but he obediently shuffled off to his bedroom, dropping the groceries on the counter. Shu watched him go, then pulled his phone from his pocket and navigated to Hold-hands.

Shu: Stop exhausting my creative partner. Our producers are demanding new content, and he's complaining.

He wasn't really surprised when a reply instantly appeared.

Arashi: i did not tell u to take him out to lunch after
Arashi: that was your choice

Shu: He was starving. I had to get him something.
Shu: Why did he need a new coat?

Arashi: shu!!!! you of all people should understand!!!!
Arashi: he looked fantastic and i take no criticism
Arashi: that reminds me! what did you think of his look?

A slim shirt and billowing pants, complimented by a glittering belt and the white coat that slipped off his shoulders, fluttering like wings as he moved. Perfectly ruffled hair, an impish grin, and those beautiful eyes, shining with warmth.

Shu: Just tell me when you plan another shopping marathon. I'll adjust my expectations accordingly.

He promptly shut off his phone. If Arashi blew up Mika's phone, Shu could reasonably say that the COS PRO producers were pushing for more new content. That ever-present threat of nameless punishment if Valkyrie stumbled was as strong as ever, and Shu absolutely had to focus.

Yes. That was why he'd dodged Arashi's question. Of course.

Shu sat at his desk and instantly clicked into “work mode,” setting all social matters aside for the foreseeable future. Mika was chronically unorganized, and somehow, the chaos had spread over Shu's desk, too. (Even worse, he no longer despised the mess). It took him several minutes to find his favorite pen, and when Shu finally uncovered his notebook, Mika emerged from his bedroom, dressed in a loose shirt and baggy pants.

“Crashing, calamity, do you hear the drums,” the shorter man murmured as he sank into his chair, half singing, half speaking the lyrics. “Of a war that has waged... that's the one you were thinkin' 'bout, right?”

“Yes,” Shu sighed. He flipped his notebook open and scowled down at their drafting page. “This hasn't improved since I last looked at it.”

It had started as a paper he'd brought with him from France, bearing nothing more than the title of “Epigone” and a few slanted lines of hiragana. Shu had seen enough merit to show it to Mika, who'd eagerly jumped on the idea. Now, they were halfway through drafting “Celestial Warfare.”

And there, they'd gotten stuck.

“Regret, regret, draw up your shields,” Shu muttered. Mika twisted to see the page, so Shu shifted to press the arms of their chairs together. “Your splendor- oh, that is terrible. Be freed from your chains. Better.” He squinted at a particularly slanted character, then held out the notebook to Mika. “Can you read that?” he asked. The shorter man shrugged helplessly, and Shu huffed. “My notes couldn't possibly be clearer.”

“Hey, don't talk like that,” Mika chided, plucking the notebook from Shu's hands. “We were half asleep when we did this.” He scrutinized the page, then glanced up again. “What were you thinkin' for the instrumentals?”

“Frantic. The Sun and the Moon grow desperate the longer the war drags on and the closer the shadows get to their kingdom.”

“Epigone... that's a mimicker of an artist, right? Like a copycat?” Shu nodded, and Mika traced the characters with a finger. “So the shadow is Celestia's epigone, too. Are the Sun and the Moon tryin' to preserve their 'pure art' on top of fightin' the war?”

“Their people are caving to the shadows, as well,” Shu added. “Their desperation could lead to something darker.”

They both fell silent. Then Mika stood in a rush and leaped onto the couch, the notepad still in hand. Before Shu could ask what Mika was doing, the shorter man began to sing.

“Soldiers! Your guide is a creator whose loyalty never falters!
His precision is unmatched, by pen and by ink
Tell us, what occupies your heart?”

No matter how many times they went back and forth in rehearsals, Shu would never get tired of hearing Mika tackle a new dynamic. The other Valkyrie truly was angelic, leaping and soaring over the lyrics. Shu swallowed a thousand and one words of praise and settled on,

“It sounds better aloud than on paper.”

Mika frowned and planted a hand on his hip. “I dunno,” he muttered. “It doesn't feel right. Eh... I think you should do this bridge.”

Shu blinked. “That's the Sun's part, Mika.”

“I know. I think you should try.”

As they had planned so far, the dual protagonists of Celestial Warfare were the Sun and the Moon, heavenly artists turned generals of war when shadows invaded their kingdom. When writing and drafting, Shu had subconsciously assigned Mika the role of the Sun. It seemed only natural with how the other man lit up any room he occupied, and all stage dynamics had to be grounded in reality. Shu had written the Moon for himself – a supporter of the Sun, not the leader.

And part of him shied away from taking on the Sun's visage, hesitant, twitchy at the prospect of “leading” anything.

Then again, perhaps they hadn't balanced the character dynamics. Until their final recording day (and even after, as their revisions had proved), nothing was set in stone.

So, though Shu's heart skipped a few odd beats in his chest, he stood and joined Mika. The shorter man shot him a pointed look, and Shu reluctantly stepped onto the couch cushions. Dancing on furniture like children. Ridiculous.

“Let me see that,” Shu muttered, taking the notepad from Mika. “We need to add to the bridge.” He scribbled a few lines and paused just long enough for Mika's confirming nod before jotting notes next to the Moon's bridge. “Alright. I'm starting from the first verse.” He took a deep breath, then launched into their half-finished creation.

“Regret, regret, and draw up your shields
Tremble in fear when you see the first rays”

The words died on Shu's tongue, and he grimaced, rubbing angrily at the page with his thumb. “It's an awkward transition,” he hissed. “We need to redo this whole verse.”

“Skip to the end,” Mika urged, stepping off the couch. “I'll do the Moon's bridge.”

Shu nodded and continued.

“This jealous thing, this undeterred pest
rebuffed and rebuked at humanity's door”

“Soldiers! Your leader is a creator who adores your passion!
His blinding radiance will never fade away
He is your salvation, he will bring you peace
Tell us, what do you desire?”

Shu's first thought was that those weren't the lyrics they'd been playing with, and they were infinitely better. The second was simply, oh, as Mika leaned into the role, crying to an audience that didn't exist. That was one of Mika's greatest strengths – the ability to emote no matter the circumstance or role. It had made him a star.

Then Mika turned, eyes shining, and the air punched out of Shu's lungs.

It always went like this, didn't it? Whenever he let his guard down, whenever they settled into their element and poured their souls into their work, Shu slipped a little further down a treacherous slope he couldn't scrabble up again. The magnetism of his muse held him fast,

But in their apartment, hidden from the idol industry and the demands of their producers and every prying eye, Shu's self-control waned, softening at the edges.

That was the only explanation for why he grabbed Mika's arm and hauled him back onto the couch as he launched into his verse.

“Soldiers! Your guide is a creator whose loyalty never falters!
His beauty is unmatched throughout the heavens above
He is your redemption, he will bring you joy
Tell us, what occupies your heart?”

Immediately, Shu realized he'd skipped the whole chorus. He'd also redone the lyrics on the spot, matching Mika's format, and only in the ensuing silence did the words catch up. Mika stared at him, an unsteady smile wavering around the corners of his mouth, and oh, god, why did it always unfold like this? What about Mika drew the warmth out of him, prying it from his selfish hands and displaying it for the world to see?

Everything.

Shu ducked his head, breaking away from those shining eyes. Ah, he'd never stood a chance.

But Mika still stared at him, and Shu knew he was slowly caving, so he cast his mind around for the easiest way to escape the situation he'd accidentally started. The solution he found was perhaps the most childish thing he'd ever thought of.

Shu grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked Mika in the chest.

Instantly, the spell was broken. The shorter man tumbled back with a melodramatic wail, and Shu's mind finally rebooted. He shook himself a little, just to clear the last of the fog (not an easy task), and smirked down at the betrayed Mika.

“This is war,” he said smugly. “Oh, we should-“

A green blur zipped toward him, and only on sheer instinct did Shu manage to toss his notepad aside and raise his pillow before Mika descended upon him with a battle cry. Shu hit the cushions with a cough, holding onto his pillow for dear life as Mika battered him with blow after blow.

When laughter bubbled up in his chest, Shu willingly set it free, gasping for breath as Mika half-heartedly smacked him.

“You gotta fight back!” the shorter man declared, grinning wildly. “Or else it ain't-”

Shu pounced on Mika's moment of split-second distraction and slammed his pillow into the other man's torso, sending him tumbling off the couch with a squawk. When he popped back up, his shirt had been crumpled against his side, and his hair was a mess.

“Was that enough of a fight?” Shu asked archly.

They looked at each other, both breathing heavily. Then Mika collapsed into giggles, dropping his head against Shu's shoulder, his pillow still clutched to his chest. Shu might've muttered, “Fool,” but it was lost to the swell of warmth in his chest and his uncontainable smile.

Could Shu stay here for a while? Laying on the couch, grinning like a madman, with Mika resting against his shoulder? It certainly felt like the world had slowed down to give them a moment of peace – a breath between work, sleep, and the mound of work that haunted their steps. Shu would never resent his second chance, of course, but he really did miss their leisurely days in Paris. He'd been on vacation, and he'd never even realized.

But the world never stopped, and if they weren't working on Celestial Warfare (which Shu somehow doubted; he needed time to ponder new lyrics, anyway), there was always something else to do.

Shu shoved himself upright, ignoring Mika's whine of protest. “What do you want for dinner?” he asked. “I'll start it.”

“We didn't eat that long ago,” Mika mumbled.

“I'm not waiting for your stomach because Arashi kept you busy.”

“Mm... somethin' light?”

Easy enough. Shu tossed his pillow onto the couch and wandered to the kitchen, absently ticking through his mental list of easy meals. They were running low on groceries thanks to a couple of frantic days, but they had a few vegetables.

“How does stir fry sound?” Shu called.

“Sure!”

Course set, Shu set about preparing the meal. Distantly, he heard Mika settle at the table with a soft sigh, and Shu sunk into a rhythm they'd learned back in Paris. He sliced and chopped; Mika hummed a soft, wordless tune. It was peaceful.

You see? You're still happy.

Shu ducked his head to hide a smile.

“Have you checked your Hold-hands?”

“No,” Shu called, tossing the vegetables in their pan. “My phone is charging,” he explained. “Why?”

“Anzu sent us a Shining Message. I still dunno how she made us both leaders... she was just lettin' us know that a fashion agency reached out to hire us for a modelin' gig. They found your work in France, so if you're interested, you can submit your designs, and we'll model them.”

It was a tempting offer, Shu had to admit. He wouldn't mind doing a photo shoot with Mika, either – it sounded more fun than he cared to admit. Still, offers that were too good to be true warranted extra research.

“Can you read the message aloud?” Shu requested. He turned off the heat and started chopping the next batch of vegetables. “I want to know if there's any fine print we should worry about.”

“Oh, sure.”

A beat of silence. Then Mika mumbled, “What?” immediately followed by a ping from Shu's phone from where he'd left it charging. He turned, confused, and found Mika frowning down at his phone.

“We just got another one,” the other Valkyrie reported. “Aah, it's from the COS PRO account?”

That... was an odd thing to receive. “Are we in trouble?” Shu asked, and he wasn't sure if he was joking. Mika didn't respond, and a ball of worry sank into Shu's gut, pressing him down. “Mika.”

“Huh? Oh! Sorry, sorry.” Mika cleared his throat dramatically. “Valkyrie's presence is requested at a COS PRO meeting tomorrow, 8 A.M., which is gonna be a gatherin' of their three most popular units – Eden, Freebirds, and Valkyrie. Aw, Kohaku never told me that they're doin' so good!”

Personally, Shu couldn't believe that Valkyrie would have a top seat so soon after their debut, but he kept that thought to himself.

“We're gonna collaborate with the other agencies in an all-stars tournament. More details to follow at the meeting.” Mika shook his head. “Now we're all-stars?” he griped. “Where was that kinda praise before?”

Shu scoffed and turned off the heat for the last pan. Had the message come from anyone else, save Anzu, he would've reported it to the administrators as spam mail. But since it had come directly from the COS PRO account, it had some merit.

An inter-agency all-stars tournament. How the culture shifted.

“We should eat now,” Shu announced. Mika glanced up curiously, and Shu sighed, dumping the vegetables back into their pan. “We have an early morning if we want to attend that meeting. Such a tournament is an excellent opportunity. We'd be foolish to pass it up simply because it sounds disingenuous.”

Mika shot his phone a baleful look. “8 A.M.,” he mumbled. “Glad I asked for somethin' light. I never eat well before those big meetings.”

“I'll force you to eat breakfast, too,” Shu said pointedly. “Could you set the table?”

“'course. You're doin' the cookin'.”

Footsteps shuffled toward him, and Shu looked up, inhaling to ask Mika to grab seasonings, too. The words died on his tongue.

Mika moved in easy steps, and he'd picked up his wordless tune once more, humming softly. A silhouette drawn from gold, outlined by the lights above him and shaded by the shadows cast across his face. Mismatched eyes – beautiful sky blue and vibrant amber – swept across the cabinets, and Shu...

...cared so deeply for this beautiful creature.

Pushed on raw impulse, Shu caught Mika around the waist, tugging him into a gentle side hug. The shorter man went without complaint, and his smile was evident in his humming.

“What?” Mika asked, half amused, half concerned. His hands landed on Shu's arm, resting there, lean fingers curling gently. “You need somethin'?”

Shu closed his eyes.

You're so warm, Kagehira.

“No,” he said, and let go. “I'll bring the food out soon.”

Chapter Text

“Did I miss anything?”

The soft voice sounded behind Mika's ear, and months of conditioning kept him from flinching. He glanced over and caught Shu's gaze as the taller man slipped back into his seat. He was carrying two take-out cups, and the intertwining scents of two different coffee orders was like a sliver of heaven.

“Naw,” Mika murmured back, and he gratefully accepted the offered cup. “Saegusa's still talkin' to COS PRO.”

Shu heaved a melodramatic sigh and took a long sip from his drink. “How in character,” he muttered. “They call an 8 A.M. meeting, then prevent it taking place. Is the agency trying to waste our time?”

“Thought you woulda known better than to talk down on your own agency, Itsuki.”

Mika couldn't stifle his grin, and he leaned around Shu to see Kohaku's smug expression. The taller man didn't blink at the instrusion – though the barest hint of a smile might've touched the corner of his mouth, and Mika cherished the slip.

“It's a legitimate grievance,” Shu said primly. “I could've been sleeping right now.”

Kohaku lifted an imperious eyebrow. “Ain't you both early birds?”

Shu hesitated, and dark purple eyes flicked back to Mika, glinting with amusement. Mika was torn between a pleased flush and a guilty laugh, both powered by the gentle warmth wrapped around his heart. In the end, he settled for a helpless shrug.

“We were up late,” he said simply.

Kohaku squinted. “What, y'all were up all night?”

In reality, yes, it had been a close thing. The prospect of an inter-agency tournament had been a godsend. The Shining Message had added that all participating units would have to write at least one new song, and Mika had tumbled after Shu into a rabbit hole of new ideas. Finally, Valkyrie had something to work towards instead of aimlessly chasing COS PRO's approval.

Reality always blurred together when he and Shu hunched over a notebook,anyway, trading lyrics and ideas. Mika's creativity was at its finest when Shu's arm dug into his side, their legs pressed together under the desk.

But Mika caught the subtle innuendo glittering in Kohaku's eyes, and suddenly, his cheeks were burning. Every excuse he might've made sounded like just that – an excuse.

“Inspiration is not confined by mortal standards,” Shu interjected (and thank all the gods; he was either oblivious or didn't care enough. Mika didn't know which he wanted it to be). “I thought you would've known that, Oukawa.”

Kohaku scoffed and leaned back in his chair. “Ain't you in a good mood?”

His voice was sharper than usual, closer to days long past, but Mika couldn't blame him. Everyone in the conference room looked exhausted. Being called out to an 8 A.M. meeting, only to get stuck in the waiting room for half an hour, was undoubtedly a disturbance. Shu had projected they'd be out in 15 minutes, and Mika had been hesitantly hopeful.

And now, Saegusa, leader of said meeting, had to wallow through technicalities with COS PRO before kicking things off. Mika couldn't help but think back to all the hours he'd spent waiting outside offices, trying to convince COS PRO to sign on Monarch as a solo unit. It almost felt like nothing had changed.

The only bright side was that having COS PRO's top three units in one room was oddly inspiring. The lethargy was palpable, but there was still a certain presence to the attendants. Shu and Mika were stuck at the end of the table, with Freebirds on their left. Either Kohaku had purposefully sat next to Shu, or it'd been an incredible coincidence. The rest of Freebirds looked half-asleep – Tojo stared blankly at his phone, and Hidaka leaned against a bleary-eyed Hakaze's shoulder.

Eden got all the leg room, situated alone on the other side of the table. Mika could only assume that was their prize for being COS PRO's best-selling (and, as of recent years, the most stable) unit. Saegusa muttered to himself the corner, but Ran absently scrolled through his phone, Sazanami had smooshed his face into his palm, and Hiyori-

-had somehow scooted his chair all the way around to Mika's side of the table and was now grinning impishly at Shu.

“I haven't seen you in a few weeks, Itsuki,” Hiyori chirped before Mika could somehow silence him. “Why aren't you picking Mika up from Pretty 5 gatherings anymore? We've visited a couple of shops I think you'd like.”

Shu glanced at Mika. Is he serious? his incredulous expression asked. All Mika could do was offer another helpless shrug; having Hiyori on one side and Kohaku on the other was tantamount to disaster. Usually, Mika got through conversations like these by bearing the teasing and scuttling away as soon as he got a chance. Gods, how had he made so many friends with sharp tongues?

“Mika's brought back souvenirs,” Shu said evenly, and Mika snapped back to attention. “Good morning to you as well, Tomoe.”

On Shu's other side, Kohaku narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You've been picking Mika up?”

The taller man turned, and Mika had the sudden impression of watching a tennis match. Somehow, Shu was somehow winning.

“I need him for rehearsals, Oukawa. There isn't much I can do without my partner.”

Shu's gaze flicked to him, and Mika froze, simultaneously pinned in place and lifted into the air. It still shocked him, sometimes, to see the looseness in Shu's shoulders as he interacted with the new idol world. Amusement glittered in dark purple eyes, and with a jolt, Mika realized the other Valkyrie was inviting him to come and play. Hiyori and Kohaku still stared at Shu, but Shu... was looking at Mika. Waiting patiently, a small, conspiratorial smile curling his mouth.

Without my partner.

“You've seen what I've gotten him, Kohaku,” Mika blurted, entirely on impulse. For a split second, he wanted to shy back. But Shu's eyes shone with satisfaction, luring him forward, and when Kohaku squinted at him, Mika realized there was no backing out. “Y'know, the bracelets and stuff. I'm the reason he got into jewelry.”

“It's an expensive hobby,” Shu muttered into his coffee. He was still smiling.

Hiyori wheeled around to Mika, mouth agape. “He's the one you were buying jewelry for?” the other man demanded, and Mika offered as cheeky a grin as he could manage while staving off a fierce blush. “God, and here I thought you'd finally found someone to spoil.”

Mika might've heard Kohaku mutter, “He did,” but Shu didn't react, and for the sake of his sanity, he ignored it.

“We still hafta budget, y'know,” he said aloud, and Hiyori wrinkled his nose. “We ain't as rich as Eden. And you're one to talk; you bought Sazanami one of those, eh-” Mika flapped his hand vaguely. “The chokers with the spikes on 'em.”

“A dog collar?” Kohaku asked, incredulous.

After years of being Pretty 5, Mika had never seen Hiyori flustered, save for a few moments when the other man had been exceedingly tired. Though it wasn't nice, Mika felt a rush of glee as Hiyori went beet red, then frantically covered his face with a hand.

“N-no! It- the-” Hiyori's gaze flicked to Jun, who still sat motionless across the table, and his cheeks somehow flushed darker. “We got a new collar for Bloody Mary, and Jun wanted to- he-” Hiyori whirled around to Mika with a huff. “What's gotten in you?! You're usually nice to me!”

“It's Itsuki,” Kohaku piped up dryly, and the taller man rolled his eyes. “Mika's been like ever since he got back. Haven't you noticed?”

“No,” Hiyori whined. “He's not like this when Pretty 5 gets together.”

Mika couldn't help it; a little spark of mischief had taken over his heart. “You're actin' like I changed or somethin',” he chirped. “I'm still me, Hiyori.”

At that, Kohaku let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah,” the shorter man drawled. “Just you, your fancy new flowers, and the coffee that Itsuki didn't think to get for anyone else, right? Even though we've all been sitting here since 8?”

Guilt seeped into the edges of Mika's mind. Admittedly, Kohaku had a point. They were all weary, and dark bags hung under Kohaku's eyes, smearing his usually perfect skin. That didn't mean Mika was any more willing to share Shu's favoritism (and oh, that was a dangerous thought), but...

“I'll treat you to lunch after,” Mika offered apologetically.

“We have to finish drafting,” Shu cut in, not unkindly, and Mika chewed his lip thoughtfully.

“We can book a rehearsal room and eat lunch while we work?”

Kohaku glanced between them for a moment, eyes still narrowed. Finally, he looked away with a sigh, pulling his phone from his pocket. “You're idiots,” he grumbled. “I'll text Arashi and see if she's free.”

Mika turned back to Hiyori and lifted his eyebrows in question. To his disappointment, the other man waved a dismissive hand.

“I appreciate the invitation, but Eden has a lot of work to do. Ibara's been so busy with this meeting that we've fallen behind.” Hiyori's expression softened. “Ah, I envy you and Itsuki. It must be easy to get together and rehearse whatever you need to. I've done so many practice sessions that I'm starting to feel like a solo unit.”

“You aren't a solo unit, Hiyori. Shouldn't you ask Jun to do Eve work when Eden is occupied?”

Hiyori yelped and hurriedly scooted his chair back around the table. Mika barely had time to appreciate the sight before the owner of the lilting voice made himself known. It still came as a surprise to see how much Eden had changed – mostly positively, too. Nagisa Ran was commonplace in the idol world, applauded for his merits and work with Eden. He was no longer a distant figure gazing down at the earth.

Still, Ran's humanity was a little more terrifying when he smiled at Shu and Mika, eyes flashing with cunning. (He and Saegusa looked uncannily similar, sometimes.)

“I apologize for interrupting,” Ran continued evenly. “Since there's been such a delay, I'm sorting out details that'll smooth the process later. Does Freebirds have enough L$ for this event?”

“You ain't told us any of the details yet,” Kohaku muttered, not looking up from his phone. Mika's pocket buzzed, but he resolved to look at the notification after he'd escaped this conversation. “We'll be fine. Freebirds ain't passing up an opportunity like this.”

Ran looked at Shu and Mika expectantly, and Mika shied closer to Shu. Immediately, a cool hand rested against the small of his back, silently supporting him. The touch made his nerves ebb (though part of Mika's brain hysterically pleaded for Kohaku not to notice).

“Valkyrie has the funds,” Shu agreed, his expression professionally aloof, “but we refuse a transfer until this meeting is over. We haven't made our final decision.”

Ran lifted his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“We are a new unit, Ran. I find it difficult to believe that we occupy a 'top seat' in COS PRO so soon after conception.”

Mika blinked, startled out of his stupor by the sentiment. Right, Shu still didn't believe their monumental success. It was different, Mika supposed, to watch Valkyrie's fans flow to Monarch, then rush back to their new Valkyrie. It was easier to accept having watched it happen once.

“Kagehira,” Ran sighed, turning to Mika with a touch of exasperation, “would you kindly tell your boyfriend that COS PRO doesn't lie about statistics? It seems like he hasn't been listening to me.”

Mika's mind went blank. By sheer awareness, he saw Kohaku whip around with wide eyes, and Shu lifting his eyebrows with an unimpressed look. Still, Mika didn't register the sights. He was too busy processing those two little sentences, replaying them, frantically trying to find an option that wouldn't stop his heart.

Ran- Ran knew them. He'd known them from their earliest stages to now, so- so-

“We have the funds,” Shu repeated dryly. He didn't even seem perturbed. Mika knew the taller man was a stellar actor, but he was almost falling apart, so why- “Would you kindly tell Saegusa that I'd be more inclined to pay if we started this meeting?”

To the Eden leader's benefit, he ducked out gracefully with another, slightly more irritated sigh. Shu let his hand drop away from Mika's back, and the lack of contact felt like an electric shock to Mika's nervous system. He was barely coherent, only half-listening to Shu's declaration.

“This is ridiculous. I'm going to call Anzu.”

The chair rattled as Shu stood, and a hand rested on Mika's shoulder, slender fingers burning his skin. Then it vanished, and Mika could only watch the other Valkyrie leave. Shu glanced back, and his lips lifted in a slight smile before he slipped out the door.

What- what had just happened?

Someone spun him around, and Mika flinched, snapped back to the present. He was instantly presented with the sight of Kohaku's too-wide eyes and shell-shocked expression. Oh, gods, right, he'd witnessed that conversation, too.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Kohaku whispered fiercely, shaking Mika a little too hard. “Why am I hearin' this from Itsuki?”

“There's nothin' to tell you!” Mika protested. But his heart was still skipping along in two-time, confused and desperately hopeful, and Kohaku's eyes blazed with certainty.

“Even Ran knows! Gods, 'course he knows; you've been at all the Dramatica practices.” Mika tried to shake his head, but Kohaku ignored him. Anger had seeped into the corners of Kohaku's face, and Mika didn't understand; he didn't understand anything right now. “What, you don't trust me enough? C'mon, Mika! I ain't blind! Or stupid! You-”

“We ain't together!”

The second the words left his mouth, Mika felt something in his chest break. The haze that'd been clouding his head all morning faded, replaced by the gray space he'd come to know so well in their three-year interim. No, no, Mika refused to come back here. He didn't want to accept that he would always be a step away.

But it was the truth, wasn't it? Despite... everything.

Slowly, Kohaku's hands slipped from Mika's shoulders. He looked stricken – Mika couldn't imagine he was any better.

“You ain't?” Kohaku asked, too quietly. Mika shook his head. “You- shit.”

The middle of a conference room, where Kohaku's miniature outburst had garnered enough attention, wasn't the place to have a heartfelt conversation. But suddenly, Mika felt so heavy, weighed down by everything he'd left unaddressed for the better part of three months. He'd known it would be hard from the start. Really.

He hadn't expected it to be so agonizing to see Shu shrug off the jokes and move on. The taller man bore no ill will, and he had, in fact, done them both a favor by not fighting Ran, but it... hurt.

Kohaku's expression softened, tinted with apology. “I guess that means you haven't talked about Acanthe yet either, huh?” he muttered.

On any other day, mentioning the song would've stopped Mika's heart. (He had so much to say. So much to ask, to pour over the lyrics and ask Shu if this had been a letter to him.) As it was, the only thing he had the capacity for was a slight shake of his head. Kohaku huffed.

“Alright. You're gonna hafta eventually.” Mika nodded again. After a beat of hesitation, Kohaku rested his hand over Mika's. “Sorry. I didn't mean to- I was- yeah.”

“S'okay,” Mika mumbled, because it had to be if he wanted to survive. Kohaku's expression didn't change, and Mika plucked up a faint smile. “You're a lot nicer than you act, y'know. Worryin' 'bout me like this.”

Kohaku instantly withdrew his hand, wrinkling his nose. “I ain't that nice,” he grumbled, and Mika giggled. “Either Arashi or Nazuna or Itsuki now would kill me if I hurt you. You got a lotta people on your side; you ever notice that?”

Mika did. They'd kept him alive as Monarch, and he could only hope to make them proud as a Valkyrie.

Especially the man who shared his title.

As if summoned by Mika's thoughts, Shu stepped back into the conference room, his brow still furrowed. Absently, Mika watched the taller man approach, silently appreciating the flow of Shu's shirt and how dark purple eyes instantly sought him out. Mika had trained himself to pay attention to details to improve his creative pursuits. How ironic that he'd eventually turn those skills onto the man he'd been trying to impress.

“Anzu said Saegusa is arguing for flexibility,” Shu reported quietly as he returned to his seat. “He'll be done soon.” The taller man glanced up, halfway through another breath, then paused as he met Mika's gaze. His frown deepened. “Are you alright?”

The other Valkyrie's concern made Mika's heart ache. “Just tired,” he murmured.

Without missing a beat, Shu wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him closer, chair and all. No hesitance, no interest in what others at the table had to say. He squeezed Mika's arm gently, and Mika's walls crumbled. He buried his face in Shu's shoulder and hung there, listening to the taller man's slow breaths.

It had been like this in Paris, too. Every time Mika thought he could pull away, Shu drew him back with tender hands, tangling Mika's heart up between slender fingers. Mika would've been furious if not for the fact that Shu would never intentionally hurt him.

I love you, Mika wanted to say. I love you.

But if ever there was a time to confess, it certainly wasn't in an ES conference room. So Mika took a deep breath, tucked all his feelings aside, and straightened. He didn't scoot out of Shu's reach, though, and the taller man didn't let go.

And that was good enough.

Mika's phone buzzed again, and oh, right, he'd meant to see what Kohaku had texted earlier. He pulled it from his pocket and let Shu see the screen as he opened their group chat.

Kohaku: @Arashi do you want to third-wheel later? Mika promised me lunch, but Itsuki's making him work, so they're gonna book a rehearsal room or something.

Arashi: i can't believe they want to be social two days in a row

Kohaku: I know, and I'm trying to take advantage of it. I want a free meal.

Arashi: i'd be happy to swing by!!
Arashi: is an early lunch okay? i have work later

Kohaku: @Shu @Mika stop cuddling in the conference room and answer us.

“Mind your business, Oukawa,” Shu muttered darkly, and Kohaku flipped him off without looking up. “Yes, an early lunch is fine. I'll book the room after this meeting.”

“Tell her yourself. I ain't texting for you.”

Mika could almost hear Shu's irritated eye roll, so he dutifully started typing.

Mika: @Arashi that's fine!! stop by whenever
Mika: i'll send you the room number later

Arashi: aren't you supposed to be in your big cos pro meeting right now??

Kohaku: It hasn't started yet.

Arashi: what????

Mika: i know

Arashi: i hope you at least got coffee before it started

Kohaku threw Shu a dirty look. “Only some people did,” he griped.

“I'm not buying you coffee, Oukawa,” Shu returned archly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Only Mika.”

A beat. The shorter man returned to his phone, but Shu squeezed Mika slightly. Only you, Mika could've sworn Shu was saying. He hurriedly stuffed his phone back into his pocket, if only to hide his trembling hands.

Thankfully, Saegusa chose that moment to emerge from his spot in the corner, and the room let out a collective groan of relief.

“My apologies for the delay!” Saegusa called, as vibrant as ever. “Since we've already taken up enough of your time, I will send the most pertinent documents to your leaders in Shining Messages and explain the brief overview here!”

“I have the documents,” Ran added. “If you'd like me to send them out now.”

Surprise flickered through Saegusa's eyes, quickly followed by appreciation, but both immediately dissolved back into the eager sheen always covering his face. “Please do! That would save me some explaining! Leaders, take a moment to look over the documents with your unit. Tomoe, Sazanami, you too.”

Sazanami let out an incoherent groan, and Hiyori just laughed. The alert for the Shining Message popped up on Mika's phone, and he opened it, again squeezing close so Shu could read.

Ran had sent them three documents, two of which seemed like the standard rhetoric for an ES event. The second page had what looked like a list of requirements for each leg of the tournament, though, and Mika breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, ES clarified its parameters. The third document displayed a series of brackets, and Mika tapped on it.

STAR PRO vs. NEW DI
fine vs. Knights
RYUSEITAI vs. Switch
ALKALOID vs. MaM

COS PRO vs. RHYTH LIN
Eden vs. ASHIOTO
Freebirds vs. Astaroth
Valkyrie vs. Ra*bits

“Each pairing will compete to win in a Shared Live with their opponent!” Saegusa continued. “Whoever wins by popular vote will continue into the 3 vs. 3. The winners of those brackets will compete for the grand prize!”

“It's all decided through popularity?” Tojo asked, and Saegusa nodded brightly. The Freebirds leader frowned. “I see. That's why you only assembled the most popular units for this tournament. It evens the playing field.”

Saegusa clapped his hands sharply. “Exactly! But each bracket will have a worthwhile prize, and the publicity from this event – which will be advertised as the Idol Discord Tournament – will only improve your standing! The next Idol Discord Tournament will focus on lesser-known units in each agency. Think of yourselves as whetting the public's appetite.”

Distantly, Mika was glad that the agencies were finally focusing on the lesser-known units that needed a chance. For that end, if nothing else, he was more than willing to offer himself up as a mainline act.

But that thought was hazy, something to be acknowledged when he was safely away from this conference. Because Valkyrie and Ra*bits were being pitted against each other, and Mika's heart hung lifeless in his chest, frozen in terror. Shu had gone still, dark eyes too wide and cheeks too pale.

“How were the brackets determined?” Kohaku asked suddenly. The barest hint of anger touched his voice, unidentifiable to anyone who didn't know him, and Mika nearly sobbed in relief. He'd have to thank Kohaku later for asking the question he couldn't.

Saegusa blinked – maybe he'd heard the underlying venom in Kohaku's voice. “Comparative popularity. Newer units or units with similar styles have been connected to achieve the most remarkable performances for our audiences! That's why you, Freebirds, are going up against Astaroth. You are both newer units with an upbeat style.

That doesn't explain why you put us against Ra*bits, Mika thought, slightly hysterical.

“ASHIOTO is also a newer unit,” Hazake pitched in, squinting at Tojo's phone. “But they're facing off with you, Eden. Isn't that unfair?”

“ASHIOTO is being supported by Kuro Kiryu and Souma Kanzaki,” Saegusa said, with a new glint in his eyes. “Rest assured, we're certain ASHIOTO can hold their own. Besides-” Saegusa glanced down at his tablet, and something that might've been pity overtook his irritation. “No one of Eden's status is left now that UNDEAD's gone.”

Hakaze shifted, clearly uncomfortable, and Tojo pressed into the silence with another question about the popularity vote. Mika knew it was important information (so rarely did Saegusa give such detailed explanations), but he couldn't focus.

Shu had gone even paler. When Mika's fingers brushed Shu's arm, the taller man recoiled as if burnt. Mika's first reaction was of hurt. The second was of fierce worry, seizing his stomach in a vice.

Not good.

“-don't know. I can call the producers again if you're so interested in an answer.”

Tojo sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, chin tipped up defiantly. “Please do. We've waited this long already.”

A collective groan lifted from the table, but Saegusa and Tojo seemingly ignored it. The Eden member retreated to his corner, Tojo shook his head with a silent sigh, and Shu-

-jostled Mika's arm as he stood, hurrying around the table in uncoordinated steps. Within seconds, he'd fled the room.

Fear settled into the pit of Mika's stomach, cold and heavy, and he scrambled to his feet.“Kohaku,” he said, shoving his phone in his pocket, “text me whatever Ibara says.”

The shorter man shot him a confused look. “What? Why?” Kohaku glanced at the empty seat between them and reared back in surprise. “Where's Itsuki? How the hell is he quieter than you?”

Mika didn't respond; Shu's stricken expression had cut a thin line of fear across his heart. Before Kohaku could stop him (or Hiyori could notice), Mika darted for the door. He escaped without notice – except for Kohaku, of course, but he was sharp enough to put two and two together.

The COS PRO offices were quiet, still dark from hundreds of closed blinds, and Mika's footsteps echoed in the silence, mocking him. Gods, he'd only been a few seconds behind Shu, but the taller man had already disappeared. Fear spiraled through Mika's chest, choking him from the inside. He frantically repressed it and picked up the pace.

While trying to get Monarch on its feet, Mika had often hidden away in COS PRO's conference rooms, working on a project well into the night or shedding tears no one else would see. He darted between every room he'd frequented and tried not to sob with every locked handle.

Finally, tucked away at the very back, Mika jammed down on a door handle and nearly fell into an empty conference room. He hurriedly righted himself and scanned the floor. Instantly, he spotted the body huddled in the corner, too small for a grown man. Mika's fear drained away. He eased the door shut, locked it, and slowly rounded the table.

Shu hadn't looked so bad in years. The taller man was curled in on himself, trembling, his eyes blown too wide and his cheeks deathly pale.

One step at a time.

“Shu,” Mika murmured. No response, save for the tightening of the taller man's knuckles. Mika carefully knelt and slipped out of his jacket. “It's just me,” he added. Carefully, he draped his jacket over Shu's shoulders like a blanket. The taller man lifted his hands to the silky material, clutching it with white knuckles. Even more slowly, dark eyes flicked up to him.

“Mika.”

Shu's voice was hoarse. His eyes were red-rimmed, too; he'd probably been crying.

Gods, it wasn't fair.

“Can I sit?” Mika asked softly.

Shu shifted aside, and Mika sank to the floor, tucking himself next to the other Valkyrie. It was an awkward angle; Mika jammed his legs under Shu's, and their shoulders squeezed together. But from so close, Mika felt each of Shu's tremors, each too-fast breath, and all he could do was press as close as he could. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and Mika didn't try to blink them away.

“I don't understand.”

Mika pressed his forehead against Shu's shoulder and was instantly rewarded by a tentative hand in his hair. “Understand what?” he murmured.

Slender fingers traced his hairline. This had worked last time, too – grounding Shu physically when words didn't work. Besides, Mika couldn't pretend his hands weren't shaking.

“You forgave me.”

That... wasn't what Mika had expected.

Shu curled in a little tighter. He was shaking again. Mika wished he could do more than sit here, but Paris had taught him that this was the best. (Even if it felt like abandoning Shu to his own mind.)

“You shouldn't have.” The taller man let out a shuddering breath. “Look at me.”

I know what I see. But I don't think you'd believe me. “I already did,” Mika mumbled. “I ain't gonna change my mind now.”


A beat. Shu's breathing evened out, and his fingers still traced aimless patterns in Mika's hair. The silence stretched, coiling around them like invisible bands, bringing Mika closer and closer to Shu's side, drawing slender fingers across his scalp again and again. Finally, Shu spoke in a voice still ragged with pain.

“I can't work with Ra*bits. I can't do that to Nazuna.”

Or yourself, Mika thought sadly. “We should talk to him first,” he suggested aloud, nudging Shu's arm a little. “If he doesn't wanna do it, then we can ask the Deputy Director to talk to NEW DI. Or do it ourselves, y'know? But shouldn't we try first?”

Another long beat.

“Why?”

Mika paused. He'd never really thought about that. Was it selfish to work with Ra*bits solely because he didn't want to see Shu and Nazuna broken apart forever? Would it be better if they forever circled, always out of balance, avoiding each other so they'd never have to deal with the weight they carried around?

Maybe it would be.

“I dunno,” Mika admitted, and he hated how quiet his voice came out. “I- I guess I thought it would help.”

The fingers in his hair stilled.

“Tell me.”

Mika obediently lifted his head and found Shu already gazing at him, dark eyes sweeping back and forth across his face – always seeking the answer to a question Mika didn't know. But Shu looked exhausted now, weary to the bone. Mika swallowed the ball of worry clogging his throat.

“Why did you stay with Valkyrie?” the taller man murmured. “You could've left. You should've left. Nazuna was right to run. You should be out there with him, performing on some grand stage.”

Some grand stage.

As if Valkyrie didn't create the most ornate stages in the industry. As if Mika would've been able to tear himself away from the taste of beauty and the cold touch of tender hands. As if there was any place in the world for him except at Shu Itsuki's side.

“I wanted to stay,” Mika said simply. “You know that.”

Dark eyes searched his face. Shu hadn't found his answer, but something eased his mind, at least, because a smile tugged hesitantly at the corners of his mouth. The sight was a balm to Mika's worried heart.

“I shouldn't put words in Nazuna's mouth,” Shu conceded quietly. “So we must see what he wants before making a decision.”

We.

“I think so,” Mika agreed. “But we don't have to yet.”

Shu swallowed. “Not yet.”

They again settled into silence, and Mika let it happen. He'd abandoned his coffee in the conference room, so his sleepy brain quickly plunged toward the ether of rest. Shu had finally calmed, his breaths even and steady, and Mika felt a ball of tension unknot from his stomach. For a moment, he felt oddly free.

But there was always more to do. First, dealing with internal politics, then revising songs, then the little flash drive Mika refused to think about, and now, the Idol Discord Tournament.

Maybe he needed to rest. His very bones felt tired.

As if hearing his bemused realization, Shu straightened his arms and hissed with pain. He was still pale and would be for the rest of the day, so Mika clambered to his feet.

“Let's go home,” he offered. “I can tell Kohaku and Arashi to take a rain check.” Shu's eyes flashed with distaste. “Yeah, I know,” Mika sighed. “But they won't mind. They got used to it with me.”

Worry creased Shu's brow. But it was nothing they hadn't said before, so Mika simply held out a hand, and Shu took it, hauling himself to his feet. He didn't release Mika's jacket, and Mika didn't ask for it back.

Years ago, when he'd still been stumbling through the darkness, Mika had considered going home in the middle of his work as defeat. It had taken too many days of flinching at every loud noise and dodging every gaze and touch to convince him otherwise. Shu hadn't gotten there yet, so when he hesitated outside the now-empty conference room, Mika grabbed his wrist and tugged him along. The taller man went with only a beat of hesitation.

The ES campus was mostly empty, as it always was on a school morning. Once they reached the street, Shu and Mika turned toward their apartment. They hadn't voiced the sentiment aloud, but Mika didn't want to wait for a car, and Shu's cheeks carried an unhealthy sheen. Mika would be making the decisions today.

While they'd been hiding, Ibara had sent them two more Shining Messages. Mika would look at those later; Kohaku's DMs were more reliable.

Kohaku: I dunno what you and Itsuki are doing, but the meeting's over. I'll text you after I get to my rehearsal.

9:05 A.M.
Kohaku: Alright. Saegusa sent y'all a Shining Message, too, but I'll tell you the most important parts, so you don't have to look through all of it.
Kohaku: The first round is gonna be two songs by each unit, then a collaborative song performed by both.
Kohaku: The 3v3 is one song for each unit, then a big collaboration. I guess they wanna prove that all units can work together.
Kohaku: And then there's one song each for the finals.

Mika couldn't help a small smile.

Mika: thank u
Mika: seriously

Kohaku: There you are. Is lunch still on?

Mika: naw
Mika: we're going home

The little dots next to Kohaku's name bounced, as if the other man were deliberating over his next words.

Kohaku: Is Itsuki alright?

Mika: i knew u cared

Kohaku: Shut up.

Mika: he's pretty rattled
Mika: did u text nazuna?

Kohaku: Arashi did. She'll probably tell you soon.

Mika: okay
Mika: thank u again

Kohaku: Yeah, yeah. You really owe me now.

Mika pocketed his phone, and Shu shot him a curious look. Mika considered reciting the conversation but decided against it. No reason to make anything worse until they got home.

“Just Kohaku,” he reported. “I asked him to tell me what Saegusa said.”

Shu's eyes dulled with understanding, and he looked away.

The walk home was blessedly peaceful, save for a few more messages from Kohaku that Mika opted to read later. Even though it'd only been a couple of hours since they left, it felt like days had come and gone. Mika heaved a relieved sigh as he sank into his fluffy slippers, and some of the tension escaped from Shu's face as he stepped out of his shoes.

“Go sit down,” Mika urged, gently pushing Shu's arm. “I'll get the notebook and whatever you need.”

Shu looked at him for a moment, eyes dancing with muted amusement. “I don't want the notebook yet,” he said eventually. “I need rest first. Find something to eat. I want to watch a French channel.”

With that, the taller man strode off to his bedroom. Mika stared after him for a solid minute before his brain finally caught up, and he lurched forward, something warm and fond settling in his chest.

Five minutes later, they'd tucked themselves onto the couch. Mika had picked through what remained of their cabinets (“We really need to buy groceries,” he'd shouted over his shoulder, and Shu had sighed) and set their remaining snacks on the side table. At some point, Shu had laid down next to him, wrapped in an old crimson Valkyrie blanket he'd brought back from Paris. His head rested on Mika's leg, and Mika was careful not to spill any crumbs.

As it turned out, they couldn't find any French channels on Japanese TV, but there was a mindless melodrama that served their purposes well enough.

When Mika's phone buzzed with a new notification, he almost didn't want to look at it. (What now?) Still, he plucked it from the side table and tapped the new Hold-hands notification. Thankfully, it was only Arashi.

Arashi: i just talked to nazuna
Arashi: first of all i'm coming over because i know you don't have anything to eat
Arashi: but nazuna wants to know if he can come over too
Arashi: just to talk to you and shu for a few minutes

Mika's first reaction was of relief; yes, absolutely, he had to talk to his brother. But it was followed by concern for the man still curled up next to him, and after a few seconds of internal debate, Mika held his phone in front of Shu's face. The taller man started, then stilled. Slowly, he took it from Mika's hand, typed a message, and passed it back wordlessly.

Mika: That's fine.

Arashi: for both of you?

Mika: for both of us

Arashi: alright
Arashi: we'll be there in five

Mika: the door's unlocked

He set his phone aside and huddled back into the couch. Shu had pulled the blanket up to his chin, and despite his better judgment, Mika asked,

“Are you sure?”

Shu shuddered, his eyes fluttering shut. When he spoke, the uneven rasp barely sounded like him.

“You don't have to ask me.”

“I'm not askin' like that,” Mika protested. He hesitated for a moment, then caved to the impulse that'd been crying in his chest all morning and rested a hand on Shu's head. “I'm askin' 'cause you ain't in a good place, and I don't wanna do this if it'll only be bad.”

A beat. Slowly, Shu shrugged the blanket off and reached up, wrapping a hand around Mika's free wrist. It seemed like he was grounding himself, and it still scared Mika a little, the way Shu trembled like he was going to fall apart. But it would always be better to see it than think nothing was wrong.

“You shouldn't worry,” Shu whispered.

“I do,” Mika said firmly. “Just tell me if you don't wanna do this right now. You're already tired.”

Shu shivered again. Now that he was looking, Mika saw the silent tears sliding down the taller man's cheeks. He desperately wanted to tell Arashi that it wasn't a good time, abort, please, but the decision had already been made. There was nothing Mika could do but run his fingers through soft hair and hold on.

“Mika.”

A question, a plea, maybe. But even after so long, Mika couldn't hear the words Shu wasn't saying. That wasn't one of his gifts.

“If you can't face Nii,” he pressed, “just say it. I'll tell Arashi to do this later. Really. Or we can avoid it all and ask Saegusa to shuffle things around.”

“I don't know if I should talk to him.”

No easy answer. Nazuna probably didn't have one, either.

It was different, Mika thought, to sit in Paris and talk through their hurts alone. He hadn't even realized he'd been hurt at first – maybe that was why it'd been easier to forgive. Being Monarch had shown Mika that he could stand on his own, too. He'd made a hundred costumes, written songs that made him the most successful solo artist in modern history. Mika had learned, by himself, that his hard work could grow into success.

And throughout it all, he'd listened to people call Shu a relic of another time. Maybe he was, much in the same way that Tenshouin had left, and Hasumi, and Sakuma. Perhaps they all should've left the industry and allowed those who survived to carry on.

But Shu still had more to give.

Mika carded his fingers through the taller man's hair, a little more securely, and felt the way Shu leaned into him. Alive and breathing beneath his hands.

Mika wondered, sometimes, if Shu truly understood it wouldn't be Valkyrie without both of them.

“Shu,” he murmured, and dark purple eyes ticked up to him. A few stray tears trickled down Shu's cheeks, and Mika barely stopped himself from wiping them away with a thumb. “I ain't gonna put you through hell like this.”

More tears slipped down, and they almost seemed like a silent apology. Experience told Mika that this cruel throw of the dice had dredged up memories of the oldest Valkyrie, things Shu had buried with their fall from grace. The memories were fuzzy for Mika – his therapist had called it a trauma response. He didn't mind.

He remembered one thing, though – the most important thing. The feeling when Nazuna ran and Shu fell apart, and Mika thought he would lose Valkyrie forever. The feeling that came back when Shu announced he was moving to Paris permanently, and Mika sobbed into his pillow for hours, terrified that he'd lost everything. His brother, his angel, his unit.

Valkyrie was more than the failed creation of a man trying to be a god in a desperate attempt to exert control over his life. Valkyrie was the culmination of Mika's dreams, and the proof that he could achieve them. That he was worthy of them.

Monarch allowed Mika to become himself. Valkyrie was what he was meant to do.

Why had Mika been granted new life, and Shu hadn't? Why couldn't the other man see that his life hadn't ended when he went to Paris, and he wasn't the same as he'd been then?

Maybe Mika had more memories than he'd realized. Maybe the combination of exhaustion and emotional strain wore down Mika's self-control. Or maybe seeing Shu like this, shedding tears for past sins, fractured something in Mika's chest. Whatever it was, impulse finally pushed him forward, past the carefully drawn lines he'd been erasing and redrawing every day since reaching out to Shu three years ago.

Mika leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Shu's forehead.

His partner didn't stiffen. That surprised Mika the most. In fact, Shu seemed to lean closer, and that made Mika bold.

“You ain't alone, y'know.” Mika sniffled and realized that he'd started crying, too. He hurriedly wiped the tears away but couldn't steady his voice. “You trust me with everythin' else. Why are you closin' up now? What'd I do?”

It wasn't a fair question, Mika knew, and that wasn't even what he wanted to ask. But before he could correct himself, Shu cupped his cheek. A gentle thumb swept across his skin. Mika ducked into the cold hand, overwhelmed.

“I know I'm not alone. That is why I'm afraid. God, I-” Shu audibly swallowed. “Please, don't ask what you've done. You've done everything right.”

“You don't have to protect me,” Mika protested. “You know that.”

Slowly, Shu sat up. Mika tried to keep breathing, but it was so much harder with dark eyes boring into his, the hand still cupping his face, and the watery smile tipping Shu's mouth, as if Mika was the only person who existed right now.

“Not from them,” Shu whispered, trailing his fingers along the underside of his jaw. “The world is yours, my dear Kagehira. From me.”

Mika was raw and unstable, his heart beating too fast and too slow all at once. All he could think was that if Shu left again, he would go with him, because he would follow his angel to the ends of the earth. And he knew, he knew, that Shu wouldn't stop him this time.

“I ain't afraid of you,” Mika murmured.

Shu's eyes softened impossibly, and he let out a breath that seemed almost like a sob. He tipped forward and collapsed against Mika's shoulder. His hand fell away helplessly, and Mika hugged back on pure instinct, tucking the taller man against him. It didn't matter if his heart was still hammering, engulfed in too many emotions. This was familiar. This went all the way back to Paris and their long conversations.

“I don't understand you. You place far too much trust in me.”

“Naw,” Mika said softly. “I trust you as much as you deserve.”

No response. That was okay, too. Shu might never believe him, but Mika would keep saying it. All that mattered was that there was a chance.

“Mika.”

The voice was so out of place that, for a second, Mika thought he'd fallen asleep. But no, the floor creaked with another set of footsteps, and he whipped around, startled. Even Shu reared back in surprise. To Mika's utter bewilderment, Nazuna stood in the entryway, his eyes too wide and his whole body trembling.

Wait, that was right. Arashi was visiting with Nazuna. But it looked like the shorter man would fall apart on the spot, and concern overtook Mika's confusion. (Still, how long had Nazuna been standing there?)

“Nii,” Mika called, and he hurriedly scrambled to his feet. (Distantly, he noticed that Shu moved to let him up.) Mika scrambled around the couch and gripped his brother's shoulders. “Where's Arashi?” he asked. “I thought you were comin' together.”

“We did,” Nazuna said numbly. “She got a call from Leo.” His eyes ticked to Shu, and Mika followed his gaze out of habit. In a jolt, he realized what Nazuna had seen. Arashi would raise eyebrows, but Nazuna- Nazuna knew-

Mika whipped back around with a new flash of panic, already inhaling to whisper a plea. But Nazuna wasn't looking at him. He stared at Shu, and Shu met Nazuna's gaze evenly, if with a touch of fear.

Then Nazuna broke down. Mika barely had time to think about panicking before the shorter man collapsed into open sobs, sinking to the floor and curling his knees to his chest. Mika followed him, frantically wrapping an arm around Nazuna's shoulders. It didn't help.

“I don't get it.”

Nazuna's voice was broken with tears, and when he finally looked up, he didn't even try to hide his shaking shoulders.

“Why?” Nazuna whispered, scrubbing at his face. He almost looked angry, his cheeks flushed. “I looked up your performances,” he continued unevenly, “after I talked to Shu. You both looked so good on stage. You were new and charismatic and-” Nazuna bared his teeth. “Why?” he demanded, and he stood in a rush, throwing Mika off and clenching his fists. “I was a Valkyrie, too! Why did Mika move on so easy? Why are y'all- like this- and I'm the only one without my family?”

Mika tried to move. He couldn't. His body had locked up on him, keeping him a few feet away from Nazuna, barely breathing. Cool hands alighted on his shoulders, and his brother's pale eyes shot to Shu.

“Why did you get to keep him?!” Nazuna continued in a shout. “You treated him like he was nothing! Like he was useless! Now he's sayin' he ain't afraid of you? Why? What did you ever do to earn his fucking loyalty?!”

He trailed off into heavy pants, his body sagging under the weight of his hurt. And Mika couldn't think of anything to say. He was still struggling to process Nazuna's cries – everything his brother had kept from him all this time. He wanted to feel betrayed, but he couldn't do that, either, not with Nazuna's heaving shoulders and glistening tears.

Then Shu took a step forward. Nazuna recoiled, seething, but the taller man didn't move.

“I haven't done anything,” Shu whispered. “I don't know why he's still here. I don't even know why he reached out. When I left-” Shu inhaled, then turned to Mika, his eyes a shade darker. “-I thought I'd never hear from him again. And though it felt like tearing my heart out of my chest, I was relieved. Because that meant I would never hurt him again.”

Mika's breath caught in his throat.

“I meant it, Nazuna,” Shu said, and his voice cracked at the edges. “If I could take everything back, I would. And if that meant I were cast aside by the industry, so be it. But try as I might, I cannot change what I have already done, and it is pointless and weak of me to attempt to. I can only move forward.”

The other Valkyrie reached out to Mika, almost begging, and Mika dazedly accepted the helping hand. Shu's hand wrapped tightly around his, holding him in place. Mika didn't fight back.

“And if that means accepting all the love Mika has given me,” Shu whispered, “because, for some god-forsaken reason, he believes I still deserve it, then all I can do is be someone worthy of his trust.”

Silence.

“Why?”

Nazuna swayed on his feet for a moment, then sat. This time, he wasn't angry. He looked 17 again, too small for his age and too gentle for the cruelty he endured.

“Why was it just me?” Nazuna rasped. “I got Mika back, but he was always looking off to Paris, always chasing after you. When he caught up, it was like you pulled him forward.” Nazuna buried his face in his hands. “He was so good as Monarch, and I thought it was because you were finally gone. But he never left you.”

Mika felt Shu shaking – knew the taller man was barely keeping himself together, only doing it so Nazuna would believe him – and squeezed his hand gently. Nazuna's gaze instantly darted to the motion.

“Like that,” his brother laughed weakly. “You just look at each other, and-“ He flapped his hands vaguely. “I see you on stage, and... you're Valkyrie. Not the three of us. You two.”

So where does that leave me?

The words floated in the air, damning and silent, and they finally brought Mika out of his haze. Admittedly, it was true; what he and Shu had grown to be, what their Valkyrie was now, had only been possible with the two of them. Worst of all, Mika knew Nazuna was jealous – because he'd once been jealous, too. He hadn't had a name for the feelings back then; he simply lived with the ugly thing poisoning his heart.

Now, Mika held Shu's hand, and he'd never let go. But to stay still would mean letting Nazuna go.

So he took a leap of faith.

Mika let go – no matter what, Shu would always be waiting for him to return. There was no doubt of that anymore, no fear. And that made Mika strong enough to reach out for Nazuna, arms open for a hug.

“You're right,” he admitted softly. “We're Valkyrie. And you're Ra*bits, and you're doin' amazin', Nii. Please don't regret all the good you did for them. I'm sorry for takin' so long, but I'm here, and I ain't leavin'. You'll never lose me. I promise.”

Soft footsteps tapped up next to him, and Mika glanced over to find Shu hovering behind him.

“Say the word, Nazuna,” the other Valkyrie murmured, “and you'll never see me again.”

Nazuna shook his head. “I don't want that,” he said fiercely. “I need to see it. I need to see that you're different.” He pointed at Mika, and he hiccuped once before setting his jaw. “I know he's your Valkyrie. But he's my brother. Don't- don't you fucking do anything to him, or you'll have to deal with me.”

Mika broke.

When he blinked again, he'd joined Nazuna on the floor, curling his brother against him in a tight hug. The shorter man clung to him, and Mika buried his face in soft, golden hair.

I'm sorry, Nii. I'm so, so sorry.

Vaguely, he heard Shu take a step closer, then withdrew, and the taller man's voice picked up in low tones. He was probably talking to Arashi. But Mika wasn't listening; he was focused on the bundle of hurts in his arms that he desperately wanted to protect.

“You're okay, Nii,” he whispered, rocking back and forth. “It's okay. I ain't his Valkyrie."

Nazuna hiccuped a laugh. “Yeah, you are,” his brother mumbled. “He's your Valkyrie, too.”

That... didn't make any sense. But Shu had appeared in his peripheral vision, so Mika shelved the comment for later.

“I told Arashi that she can bring us food later,” he announced, and Mika nodded in agreement. Shu kept his gaze on the far wall as he added, “I also said she should probably drive Nazuna home first.”

Nazuna extracted himself from Mika's hug, and Mika reluctantly let him. “Yeah,” his brother muttered, straightening and wiping at his eyes. “We can- talk later. Or something.”

With that, he fled. Mika slowly got to his feet and watched, a bit lost, as Nazuna shuffled to the door and left. Just like that, it was as if nothing had happened at all. Shu stepped to his side, hands tucked in his pockets, and Mika wrapped his hands around the taller man's bicep. (If he didn't ground himself, he might collapse.)

“Will he be alright?” Shu asked, too quietly.

“I don't know,” Mika mumbled helplessly. “I'll check on him later.”

“Thank you.”

Mika's phone dinged, and he shuffled back to the side table, picking it up with hands he hadn't realized were shaking.

Arashi: i'm taking Nazuna back to the mall
Arashi: i'll be back soon

That was good enough. Mika set his phone down and found Shu by his side again, looking even more battered. The taller man rubbed his face with both hands, and Mika didn't speak. What could he say after all that?

“I need to sleep,” Shu muttered, muffled by his hands. “Turn off the TV.”

Mika did, but he still plopped on the couch, grabbing his phone. He expected Shu to go to his room (as often happened when the taller man got overwhelmed). Instead, Mika had barely gotten comfortable before Shu laid down, again tucking the blanket up to his chin and settling on Mika's leg.

They would always come home.

Half an hour later, Arashi arrived. She slipped inside on silent feet, but Mika still gestured frantically, trying to explain that Shu was asleep. Thankfully, she got the message. Arashi unpacked the groceries she'd brought along (Thank you, Mika mouthed, and she offered a warm smile), then sat on the other couch. Mika wanted to ask her why she was staying, but he needed the company too badly. His whole body felt raw and scratched up.

Eventually, Mika tipped towards an exhausted sleep. He leaned back and was just about to let himself rest (gods, he needed it) when both his and Arashi's phones buzzed. Mika jerked back to attention. Arashi didn't look surprised, so Mika plucked his from the side table. It was their group chat on Hold-hands.

[Nazuna Nito has joined the group.]

Kohaku: @Arashi what did you do?

Arashi: nazuna asked!! why would i say no?

Mika's head snapped up, and Arashi artfully dodged his gaze. “What?” he croaked. Shu stirred a little, and Mika cringed, hurriedly tempering his voice. “What're you doin'?”

“What he asked,” Arashi returned softly. “It's fine, Mika.”

No, it wasn't. Mika had so many concerns and fears, mostly based on how Nazuna would react – not to mention Shu!

Nazuna: I can see all the previous messages

Arashi: mhm!

Kohaku: This gc is a disaster. Run while you can.

Arashi: you're literally who started it

Kohaku: Only because Itsuki broke CRAFTMONSTER's rules!

Arashi: i feel like you're just jealous
Arashi: we need to find someone to make you flowers

Kohaku: I don't want anyone or flowers. Unlike someone I know.

Nazuna: flowers?

Arashi: scroll up
Arashi: shu made mika flowers for their date <3

Kohaku: Which he wasn't supposed to do.

Arashi: hush

This wouldn't end well. Mika was already sure of that. But his fingers moved without permission; he swtiched to his conversation with Nazuna and started typing.

Mika: nii?

The response was instant.

Nazuna: I know
Nazuna: but please trust me, Mika
Nazuna: and if Shu doesn't want this, I'll go

Mika looked down at the man still asleep. Shu's chest rose and fell slowly, his pain wiped away in slumber. He was still tucked in their old Valkyrie blanket, and something that might've been a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Peace in the storm.

Mika exhaled shakily and went back to typing.

Mika: i think he'll be fine with it

Nazuna: I trust you
Nazuna: I know this isn't great timing, but you know the song the units have to perform together?
Nazuna: for the first round of the tournament
Nazuna: I was thinking of a ballad

Chapter Text

Mika spun in a perfect circle, dragging his toe against the floor as he went, and Shu easily caught the shorter man's arm. Around them, the last gentle piano notes faded away, and Mika swayed into him with a barely audible hum. For one moment – for one blissful, fantastical moment – Shu nearly rested his hands on Mika's hips, pulled his partner close and waited for the spotlight to fade.

But they weren't on stage, not yet, and he couldn't linger.

Across the room, Kohaku tapped a key on Mika's laptop. “That's the whole track,” he called gleefully. “Told ya I could fix it, Itsuki.”

There had, in fact, never been an issue with their sound. Shu had painstakingly adapted the notes, following Nazuna's sheet music and adding his own flourishes to create the perfect piano accompaniment to the track. Shu had done it for that exact reason; nothing got lost in the shuffle when he oversaw mixing.

But Kohaku had come out of nowhere while Shu was staring at Mika, nearly giving him a heart attack with his bright, “What's the hold-up, Itsuki?”, and Shu had blurted the first excuse his panicked brain could devise.

“Er- something's wrong with the file.”

“Ah, I'll look at it. Go warm up with Mika."

Idiotic. Childish, really, to be so twitchy around people he considered friends. But these weren't normal circumstances, and Shu's hands had been seized by a maliciously persistent shake in recent days.

Such as now, as he stood in the middle of the room, gently supporting Mika's right arm with one hand and reaching for the sky with the other. Shu tried not to look too desperate as he took a healthy step away, glancing over his shoulder.

“How does the video look?” he asked, and he hated the betraying tremor in his voice.

Arashi lowered her phone and shot him a dazzling grin. “Perfect!” she cried. “Ah, it looks amazing. I can't imagine what'll happen once you have Ra*bits on stage with you. I'll never understand how you two can make rehearsals look so graceful. Knights are a hot mess while we're working”

An angel's laugh drifted from behind him, and Mika settled at Shu's side, wrapping warm hands around his bicep. “That's our magic,” the shorter man chirped, and Arashi rolled her eyes fondly. “Do we really look that good?”

“Yes! Get over here and see it!”

Mika released Shu's arm and darted to Arashi's side, squeezing against her shoulder as he peered at her phone. Kohaku rounded the table with an affronted, “Oi, me too!” and smooshed in on Arashi's other side.

Shu didn't join them. His heart was beating too slowly and too fast, holding him in the gray space suspended between. He couldn't have moved even if he wanted to; Shu's feet were rooted to the ground. All he felt was the residual warmth of Mika's hands encircling his arm – the easy touch, the beautiful laugh. For a few sluggish heartbeats, Shu's breath was trapped in his throat.

Idiotic.

It should've been effortless to drive Valkyrie forward. They'd grown over the years, and collaboration only came easier the longer Shu was back in Japan. Four months and his life was fundamentally changed. Never had Shu thought collaboration with anyone could be so painless. How beautiful it was to work with another creative presence to devise beautiful lyrics, plan sweeping choreography.

None of these were new thoughts, of course. Even before Shu had moved back to Japan, he and Mika had cautiously traded ideas about fashion. That tentative partnership was their new Valkyrie's core.

Shu's frustration didn't lie with their unit. It wasn't the lyrics to their new song, which had stubbornly infuriated him for weeks, nor the choreography that made him feel uncoordinated and graceless, and certainly not his partner.

The problem was himself.

Mika had only brought up the issue once, and he'd instantly dropped it once Shu had muttered a flimsy excuse about feeling under the weather. Though the shorter man's kindness was a blessing, Shu wished Mika had pushed. After all, the Idol Discord Tournament (or the IDT, as ES called it) was three short weeks away, and they had so much to do. Two months was an unheard-of buffer for events, and somehow, Shu had wasted all that time.

The peppy yet wistful ballad they'd composed with Ra*bits, Kaleidoscope, was still unfinished. That last rehearsal was undoubtedly their best, even with Shu's stunted dancing. They'd sent the lyrics off to COS PRO for approval, so all they could do in the meantime was keep practicing.

(He couldn't hit the emotional points. Kaleidoscope was a song about how the world changed when around people you loved. Though they'd specifically tailored the lyrics to be platonic or romantic, Shu couldn't put any weight behind his voice.)

Their second project was Furies, one of the unit songs they would perform. Valkyrie was working under the assumption that they'd make it to the finals and, not including the collaborations, they needed four songs. At least one had to be new; hence, they'd put Celestial Warfare aside and tried something softer. Furies would be introduced during the tournament and incorporated into their regular setlist after.

(It wasn't good enough. Shu and Mika had “finalized” the vocals, but they rang hollow compared to the secondary lyrics haunting Shu's mind. On paper, Furies would easily be performance-worthy in time. In his heart, Shu knew he'd never be content.)

They still had to finesse Eternal Weaving, modify and streamline the choreography to highlight their reversed roles, and decide on a fourth song. Shu had argued for Enthralling Theatre, as it was one of their most iconic songs, but Mika had pushed for Gaisenka. The decision wasn't as crucial as other problems since they knew their older songs by heart, but one still had to be made.

(The answer was obvious, painfully so. Neither of them had dared to mention their best song, and Shu couldn't tell if he was relieved or infuriated. Everyone – Arashi, when he'd asked her, Wataru and Ran, unprompted, in a Dramatica rehearsal, and even their fans – called Acanthe their best work. They'd only performed it once in a Live before Shu had fled for Paris. Part of him wondered if singing Acanthe on stage had been his earliest realization.)

Shu and Mika were healthy enough but quickly running out of steam. Costumes, sets, and the final decisions on musical details were all piling up on their shoulders. Every choice was made too slowly.

And it was because of Shu.

Mika would never point the blame – maybe he didn't even realize what was happening. But Shu did. He saw the shadow lurking over their rehearsals and drafting sessions all too clearly.

Love.

After so long, maybe he shouldn't have been surprised by the vehemence and persistence of his own feelings. Shu's meltdown after the IDT meeting had broken down his last wall, and he could no longer separate his damned feelings from the rest of his life. He and Mika were inseparably intertwined, and worst of all, Shu didn't even feel stifled. He enjoyed being so close to Mika.

He was utterly enamored with his partner. It scared him to be able to say that. Watching his muse dance around their practice room was hypnotic, and Shu spent too long following Mika's graceful motions, thinking back to Paris and all those projects Mika would never know he'd inspired. Shu had kept his feelings under lock and key for so long that their presence felt violent and dangerous.

Shu was falling apart, losing control and willpower, and it only worsened with every adoring smile Mika shot his way.

“Shu?”

He flinched away from the intruding voice. Quickly, he identified the lilting voice edged with concern and looked up to meet Arashi's worried gaze.

“What's going on?” she asked softly. “It didn't seem like you were listening.”

Damn it.

“What did you say?” Shu returned, carefully avoiding the question. As expected, Arashi's frown only deepened (they spent too much time around each other, Shu thought), but she was kind enough to nod at Kohaku and Mika. The two were still huddled together, glued to Mika's phone.

“The recording turned out well. I was just telling Mika that Kaleidoscope was made for you two. I can't wait to hear Ra*bits' parts.”

“Nazuna is a talented songwriter,” Shu agreed absently. Though the sentiment was genuine, he heard how distracted he sounded. “He knows how to tailor the melody depending on the segment. The product doesn't surprise me.”

“High praise,” Arashi noted.

Mika laughed at Kohaku, his cheeks flushed with mirth and affection. When the other man elbowed him sharply, Mika only laughed louder, hiding his mouth with his free hand. He looked so alive – so vibrant and colorful.

“He earned it,” Shu muttered. It took a moment to reorient himself to the conversation, and he hurriedly turned his back on the other Valkyrie. Unfortunately, Arashi's worried eyes were no easier to face.

“Shu,” she murmured, more gently than he deserved. “What?”

...how could he respond to that?

Shu wanted so badly to break his silence. He wanted to shed his cowardice and promise Mika everything he had left in his heart – everything he hadn't known he was capable of. Shu walked the edge of a knife, and his nerves were starting to fray from the constant stress. So he said nothing. Answering was too dangerous.

Arashi released a heavy sigh and crossed her arms over her stomach. “I know I can't make you talk,” she began, her gaze still trained on Kohaku and Mika, “and I know you know that I wouldn't try. But I'm here, alright?”

A kind offer. A hand of solidarity he'd never received before returning to Japan, save for Mika – Arashi was willingly offering her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Shu said quietly. “I'll be fine.”

A beat of silence. Kohaku threw his hands up exasperatedly and stood, stalking back to the plastic table and muttering a few choice words.

“I'm sure you will be,” Arashi murmured.

Before Shu could regret his silence too much, Mika jumped up and hurried over to them, his eyes aglow. “Shu, look at us,” the shorter man urged, pressing against Shu's arm again and sticking out his phone. Shu barely stifled a wince at his stiff posture (god, how did Mika not see that?), but he had to admit, their half of Kaleidoscope had cleaned up nicely.

He glanced at Mika, already inhaling to offer a piece of feedback not related to himself. The words died in his throat as he was met with shining eyes, one warm amber, the other rippling blue. Mika possessed a power unparalleled, magnetic and grounded all at once, and Shu's heart strained against its cage. Speak! it pleaded. Stop being a coward!

Shu swallowed thickly and summoned what few scraps remained of his self-control. “Send it to Nazuna,” he ordered. His voice came out blessedly steady. “It showcases our progress.” Mika bobbed his head in agreement. Shu did his utmost to ignore the man still pressed against his arm and turned to Kohaku, who was watching them curiously. “Oukawa. Find the music for Furies. We need to run the opening verse.”

Kohaku scowled. “You don't get to boss me around, Itsuki. I ain't part of your unit.”

Finally, a safe distraction. “Then why are you in our practice room?” Shu called, deliberately turning his back. He heard more than saw Kohaku flip him off, and the familiarity of it brought a wry smile to his face. “Shouldn't you be with Freebirds? Tojo might've had a point about your rehearsals.”

“Tojo doesn't know shit,” Kohaku snorted. “Besides, Hakaze's workin' later today, and Hidaka's busy with a personal lesson. I'm free.”

Shu paused halfway a step and raised his eyebrows at the other man. Kohaku met his gaze petulantly, then let out a melodramatic groan.

“Yeah, yeah, I'll start the music. Mika, get in there.”

Such a child, Shu thought, with more fondness than he'd ever admit to. He glanced over to confirm that Mika had taken his spot, then tore his gaze away. They were only working on the opening verse of Furies. For 30 seconds, Shu had to keep his thoughts in check. His pride wouldn't allow anything less.

“Alright!” Kohaku shouted. “Startin' in three, two-"

A slow melody spilled through the speakers, a mesmerizing combination of melancholy notes and an undercurrent of buried hope. According to their lyrics, Furies was the story of a human who'd sacrificed his soul and fled to another plane – but that wasn't what Shu was singing. When the melody lifted into the first verse, Shu set loose the lyrics hidden in the back of his mind.

(The effulgent moon skims across
Your sun-kissed skin, your starry eyes
I wonder now, could I stop time,
and marvel in that which I love?)

“This silhouette of a mimic,” Mika sang, stepping forward, and Shu took over the lyrics as he let his partner take center stage.

“Hungry for a blessing-” (And yet I will try)

Their voices twined together like the strands of a tapestry, drawing out each word in crystal-clear harmony. “Follows the shadow of the sun.”

“So, he cries,” Shu continued, and he turned.

It was a mistake.

Once, years ago, Shu had called himself foolish for falling in love so slowly. That sentiment had not changed, but now, he knew it was the only love he was capable of. Mika had crawled through Shu's defenses so gently, with tender fingers caressing his bruised knuckles again and again. Anything louder or more violent would've shattered against Shu's hardened heart. Maybe, in that way, Mika was the only person he could've loved.

It was no longer the extraordinary that made Shu gasp. It was Mika's unchanging beauty. It was the way his partner met his gaze slowly, eyes shining with life, and smiled, as if Shu were the only person left in the world. Mika extended a hand, and for a moment, he gripped Shu's very heart. His incomparable muse.

Too close, yet so far away. Shu ached, he craved, he-

His hip slammed into something unforgivingly hard, and Shu let out a cry of pain, frantically throwing his hands out to catch himself. Thankfully, he managed not to land flat on his face, but Shu still gasped out, “Oh, merde,” and squeezed his eyes shut against the burning stake of pain driving into his hip. Distantly, he heard the music abruptly stop.

Shame seeped into Shu's chest. What was he doing, making such amateur mistakes? He'd stumbled backward into the table (that much was clear; he'd heard Kohaku's startled yelp), and god, everyone had to be staring at him.

“Shu! Are you alright?”

His partner dropped to a crouch beside him, his hands hovering around Shu's shoulders, and it took all Shu's self-control not to slap those tender fingers away. (It wasn't Mika's fault. This was his own folly.)

“Je vais bien, ja vais bien,” Shu muttered heatedly, and Mika instantly withdrew. “Laissez-moi me lever.”

Silently, Shu thanked his past self for establishing an indication of when he wasn't willing to talk. Mika backed up without question, and Arashi did the same. After a few seconds of battling the embarrassment seething in his stomach, Shu rose unsteadily. He didn't meet anyone's eye – especially Mika's.

“Avez-vous besoin de partir?”

Mika had almost gotten fluent in French over the years. His accent was flawless, just like how his singing voice evolved from his usual mumbling, and he'd only learned because Shu adored France. Shu's hands started to tremble, and he pressed his palms into his eyes with a sharp exhale. (Why had Mika devoted so much time to him? Why couldn't he make this easy on Shu's heart?)

“Oui,” Shu muttered, and he hated how Mika instantly nodded. The shorter man was nothing but concerned – no anger, no frustration with his mistake. Plaintive concern. “J'ai besoin de manger.”

He'd finished breakfast, just like Mika had. But claiming hunger was a reasonable excuse.

“Okay.” Mika turned to Arashi and Kohaku, who'd been following their conversation with blank stares. “Shu's gonna get somethin' to eat, so we're gonna hold the rehearsal until he's back. Y'all can leave if you want.”

“What?” Kohaku demanded, though a hint of worry touched his voice. “But y'all have been all stressed 'bout Furies!”

Mika glanced at Shu, and his eyes softened at the corners. Even though they stood several feet away, Shu swore he felt soft hands drift over his arm, tugging gently. He took an unsteady breath, and when Mika looked away, it felt like a weight lifted from Shu's chest.

“Another hour ain't a problem,” Mika said simply. “Woulda get me somethin' sweet, Shu?”

Shu barely remembered to nod before he fled, nearly banging his already bruised hip on the doorframe. He threw the door shut behind him and hurried down the hallway in an unsteady jog. With each step, his self-control frayed a few more flimsy threads. Shu scrubbed his face again, and he fought back a snarl when his hands came away damp.

It'd been a long time since Shu had felt so out of control. He tried to settle his breathing, but even his time-honored exercises were rebuffed by his pounding heart. He would've been frustrated if not for the shame and embarrassment still circling his lungs in a vice.

Crying over something he'd brought upon himself. How idiotic.

(And yet, he couldn't be angry at the object of his affections. Shu thought it truly impossible to hate anything about Mika.)

His phone vibrated, and Shu flinched, slapping instinctively at the offending sound. He felt a little silly when he recognized the unique sound, reserved for a special person, and Shu tugged his phone from his pocket.

Mika: tu ne dois rein m'apporter

Shu heaved a heavy sigh. So adorable.

Shu: I don't mind. How sweet?

Mika: not too much
Mika: i ran out of sweets this morning

Shu: Did you eat them all when I turned my back?

Mika: no!!! kohaku stole my bag!!!

Shu: Tell Oukawa to pay for the next packet of mint himself. I was experimenting.

Mika: WAHT

The light next to Mika's name went dark, and Shu easily imagined the shorter man tossing his phone aside, rounding on Kohaku with a devastated shriek. Despite everything – the emotions still roiling in Shu's gut, twisting him up inside, the infuriating hesitancy, the aimless anger – a smile crept over Shu's face.

Lunch would do him good, if only to get him out of the practice room. Shu would compose himself, try to sort out the tangled threads in his head, and bring back a treat for Mika.

Yeah. He'd be fine.

Afternoons in ES were always busy, filled with idols freed from work or classes. The trek was painful in every possible way, but Shu reluctantly acknowledged that the distraction helped. There was no space for agonizing over his feelings when he was too busy dodging thrown elbows and raucous laughter.

Finally, Shu ducked into ES's staff cafeteria and sighed in relief. Idols clumped at tables here and there, but the largest group was small compared to the swarms outside. On closer inspection, Shu recognized some faces. The idols in question had dragged several tables together, and he spotted Kaoru Hakaze near the end, next to Adonis Otogari. RYUSEITAI was crammed against the wall, and Mitsuru Tenma was animatedly telling a story.

Three years, and nothing had changed. Really, Hakaze's and Otogari's new jackets were the only difference.

A peal of laughter rose from the group, and Shu shied back, torn between escaping the cafeteria and pushing forward. But he couldn't return to the practice room just yet, and vending machine wares were revolting.

Shu steeled himself, sucked in a resigned breath, and slipped behind a nearby pillar.

The menu was all online, as most services were in ES. From the comfort of the shadows, Shu ordered a plain-looking salad (he could suffer blandness for peace of mind) and a simple piece of cake. Thanks to their successful Lives and Monarch's vast fortune, lunch was but a blip in their L$. Still, Shu scowled as he confirmed the order. Everything in ES was so obscenely overpriced.

Soon after, a waiter swept from the kitchen with their dishes in hand. Shu intercepted her on her way to the main floor, and after hurriedly confirming that, yes, he was Itsuki, he darted to the serving station. The best Shu could do for himself was box up both snacks and find somewhere quiet to think. He quickly packaged Mika's cake, but as he lifted a fork to transfer his salad, he spotted a familiar flash of red hair.

Damn it.

Briefly, Shu considered ignoring the other man. Kuro was probably enjoying a solitary lunch, just as Shu wanted. But dining with a friend suddenly sounded much more palatable than being alone with his thoughts, and Kuro didn't seem to be in a hurry.

I'm a coward, Shu thought darkly, and he snatched his plate from the counter. “Kuro!”

The taller man's head snapped up. A broad grin spread across his face, and he waved invitingly at the open seat. Shu spared a moment to thank God that his old friend was so generous.

“Good afternoon,” Kuro greeted warmly, once Shu had sunk into the opposite chair. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“It wasn't my plan,” Shu muttered, tucking a napkin over his leg, and Kuro chuckled. “I don't mean to interrupt your lunch. Please tell me if you have other obligations.”

Kuro waved a dismissive hand. “No, I don't have any plans. Aemi is out with friends tonight, and Souma won't finish his work for a few hours. Besides-” A waiter suddenly strode to their table, and Kuro accepted his plate of spaghetti with a grateful nod. Shu tried not to raise his eyebrows at the meal. “I need to unwind,” the taller man continued wryly. “Today's practice didn't go as planned.”

Shu chewed a piece of soggy lettuce as he mulled over that sentence. “You said you're mentoring another unit?” he posed, grimacing as he swallowed his mouthful. “Saegusa mentioned that they're competing in the Idol Discord Tournament.”

“Yes. ASHIOTO. They strive to be the new AKATSUKI, and they approached Souma and me when they first formed, asking for advice. They were so earnest that I couldn't turn them away.” Kuro sighed fondly and paused to take a big bite of spaghetti. Shu silently wondered how the other man managed to grab the strands without spraying sauce everywhere. “And I convinced Souma to help them.”

“Did Kanzaki have other plans?” Shu asked, curious despite himself.

“We were going to move to Sapporo together, that's all. We decided to delay it for a couple of years, just until ASHIOTO finds their footing.”

Shu couldn't help a faint smile. It was oddly touching, imagining Kuro and Kanzaki as neighbors. “It sounds like a peaceful retirement,” he agreed. “But I'm surprised you were willing to move with him.”

Kuro shot him a pointed look, and Shu tried not to think about the fact that he'd upended his entire life in Paris for Mika. “We've been together a long time,” the taller man said eventually, and warmth enveloped his voice. “Aemi's very fond of him as well. Did I ever tell you that we carried on AKATSUKI as a duo for a few months?”

Shu blinked. “No. I never heard.”

“Mm. It was fun, but Souma and I had both burnt out. You're lucky. Valkyrie might've had competition.”

Pale eyes flicked up to Shu, shining with amusement, and something almost like mourning tugged at Shu's heart. It would've been incredible to perform against Kuro and Kanzaki. Both were exceptionally talented, and away from Yumenosaki's horrific halls, they could've learned from each other.

Maybe he should extend an offer of collaboration, regardless of whether AKATSUKI had already disbanded. After all, the pair hadn't yet left the industry.

Kuro seemed to have a similar thought, and he heaved a wistful sigh. “It might be a few years before we leave,” he admitted. “ASHIOTO is stubborn. They've improved enough to get into the IDT, but they spend L$ they don't have on stages they don't need.”

Oh, Shu knew that feeling all too well. “They'll learn when they find themselves broke.”

“I'd rather they don't hit rock bottom to learn a simple lesson,” Kuro said archly, and Shu conceded the point with a reluctant nod. “Still, they accepted a commission for a community show in preparation for the IDT. I hope the change of pace will give them a fresh mindset.”

“They sound young,” Shu mused. He'd long since given up on the salad; some things were too tasteless to put into his body. “Or inexperienced.”

“They are both. But I believe their passion will carry them through these early trials. They have the potential to become better than AKATSUKI ever was, and I'd like to see that happen.”

Shu couldn't help a disgustingly gentle smile (honestly, was he breaking all his habits today?). “They have excellent mentors,” he murmured, and he meant it from the bottom of his heart.

“We're doing our best,” Kuro chuckled. “It feels like practice for raising children. I don't understand how Souma can be so patient. I thought I was after helping my little sister, but I'm starting to think she trusted me too much to be so obstinate.”

For a moment, the mental image of Kuro chasing a child around his house flashed through Shu's mind. It seemed otherworldly, so far removed from reality that it was basically a dream. But, then again, Kuro was married.

Ugh, children. Shu would sooner drown himself than raise one.

Kuro waved his hand again, and Shu snapped out of his thoughts with a quiet huff. “Enough about me,” the taller man announced, again picking up a massive bite of spaghetti. It had to defy the laws of physics. “I heard that Valkyrie is participating in the IDT. Congratulations, Shu. You and Mika deserve the recognition.”

Shu dipped his head slightly. “It was a long road,” he admitted, and Kuro hummed his sympathy. “But it is rewarding to see our efforts come to fruition. I never expected our Valkyrie to be so warmly received by Monarch's fans.”

A beat.

“You're joking,” Kuro said slowly. Shu frowned (why would he joke about that?), and the taller man coughed a laugh. “Shu, Mika spent six months performing a Valkyrie song as tribute at the end of every Live. I thought it was very touching. His fans always seemed to enjoy it, too.”

Mika... had never told him that. And Shu, as determined as he'd been to stay away, hadn't started watching Monarch's livestreams until after a year of talking and visits, when Mika had excitedly mentioned the debut of a new song at his next Live. Shu had never thought to go back in time, only desperately press forward.

Six months spent remembering Valkyrie. Honoring and cultivating the memory of a unit that'd held him back, even as he flourished.

Suddenly, Shu understood why so many of Monarch's fans liked Valkyrie. His chest constricted, and he carefully covered his mouth to stifle any uneasy noises. God, he'd come to the cafeteria to escape his damned feelings, not stare them in the eyes.

(This wasn't Kuro's fault, either, though. The blame remained on his shoulders.)

“You seem shocked.”

This time, the amusement was blatant in Kuro's voice, and Shu glared at his companion. “Mika never fails to surprise me,” he muttered, and Kuro, the traitor, laughed. “I don't know why he would waste time reminiscing in his own Lives.”

Don't you?

Shu flinched, startled by Mademoiselle's sudden appearance. She'd been quiet since they'd started working towards the IDT, and Shu was relieved to hear her light teasing again. And yet... she sounded farther away than usual. Kuro was smiling knowingly at Shu, too, and the combination sparked a gentle warmth in his chest – much to his annoyance.

Thankfully, before Shu had to address Mademoiselle's soft voice, Kuro's smile, or even his own thoughts, his phone buzzed with that special ringtone. Shu quickly fished it from his pocket (Kuro returned to his meal with a snort) and scanned the screen. One new message from Mika. A second quickly followed, and Shu tapped on the notifications.

Mika: arashi just left, she said she has stuff to do but might come back later
Mika: kohaku's still here
Mika: i can't let him see the cake!!

Right. Kohaku would be insufferable about not receiving a snack. Shu rolled his eyes, then twisted to examine the noisy group of idols behind him. Hakaze, Otogari, and Sengoku were all chatting, distanced from the rest of RYUSEITAI and Tenma.

“Kuro,” Shu said without turning. The taller man grunted. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Depends. What are you thinking?”

Shu gestured at the boxed cake. “I have to get Oukawa out of our practice room so Mika can enjoy this uninterrupted. You know Otogari through Kanzaki, yes?”

Kuro's gaze flicked past Shu, examining the idols in question. Slowly, a devious grin overtook his face, and he stood with his half-finished plate of spaghetti in hand. “You know,” the taller man said conversationally, already striding towards the table, “it's been a long time since I talked to Otogari.”

The impromptu approach was hardly one Shu would've taken (as Kuro so blatantly knew), but he'd been the one to ask for help, and he had to play along. With a sigh of reluctance, Shu grabbed the boxed cake and stood, trailing Kuro to the bustling table. The sacrilegious salad was abandoned.

Hakaze glanced up at their approach, and a curious smile split his face. Otogari and Sengoku instantly followed his gaze, and both offered bright grins and friendly waves as Shu and Kuro got closer. It was still odd, Shu thought, not to be treated like a leper. (Maybe he'd brought that treatment upon himself.)

“Hey, Kiryu!” Hakaze greeted brightly, and he waved at the open seat. Kuro gratefully sat. Shu didn't protest; he wouldn't stay long.

“How has Freebirds fared, Hakaze?” he asked.

The other man cracked a lopsided grin. “Cut it out, Itsuki. You already know everything, right? Oukawa spends more time with you than he does us.” Kuro shot him an incredulous look, which Shu steadfastly ignored, and Hakaze laughed. “Nah, we're alright. Thanks for checking. This is Freebirds' first big tournament, but we know what we're doing. I keep thinking about all the events UNDEAD did in the past, you know? Rei would've had a blast with these collaborations.”

Faster than Shu could see, Sengoku leaned over and swatted Hakaze's arm. “Sakuma texts you every day,” he whined, talking over Hakaze's yelp of protest. “Even when we're at aquariums. What do you have to complain about? Ritsu probably had it worse, y'know!”

“We found new homes, Kaoru,” Otogari added mildly, and a strange line of tension gripped Hakaze's shoulders. “We got our happy endings.”

Hakaze's face darkened. “Like hell we did,” he snapped, a little too sharply for the gentle ribbing. “Astaroth is still around, aren't they? Trying to take UNDEAD's spot.”

Their end of the table fell deathly quiet; even Hakaze looked off-put at his own outburst. Still, he stared at his half-eaten meal with rage burning in his eyes. Sengoku's gaze slid away, Otogari set his jaw, and Kuro clenched his chopsticks until his knuckles went white. Suddenly, the flash drive tucked away in Shu's desk, stored there until he and Mika could scrutinize the “evidence,” weighed on his mind like a ten-ton dumbbell.

Still, there was no use ruining an otherwise pleasant lunch.

“We should be grateful they aren't under our agencies,” Shu said as evenly as he could manage. “The collateral damage would be monumental.”

“They are under Rhyth Lin with ASHIOTO.”

Kuro's voice was too quiet, dulled by the angry acceptance Shu had heard from Mika too many times, and he stifled a guilty wince. He hadn't considered that.

“I wish I still held sway in my agency,” Kuro added, absently swirling some noodles around his chopsticks. (Out of the corner of his eye, Shu noticed Sengoku's bug-eyed expression as he watched Kuro twirl spaghetti around chopsticks with unparalleled grace. Truly unnatural.) “I could convince the producers to remove Astaroth before they cause any more harm. Even ASHIOTO has been targeted.”

“It's such bullshit,” Hakaze seethed. “The producers really think Astaroth can replace UNDEAD? Fucking insane. Tension in your agency is a receipt for disaster.”

At Hakaze's side, Otogari clasped his hands in front of his mouth. “ALKALOID has dealt with Astaroth many times,” he agreed, exhaustion edging his voice. “Especially Aira and Hiiro. I'd gladly give my testimony if a case was made against them. We all would.”

Shu froze. He refused to tell anyone about the flash drive (for now, anyway), but the other big units likely knew about Astaroth constantly bullying Monarch. Testimonies from a reputable unit like ALKALOID would definitely bolster their case.

Otogari turned away from their conversation as Sengoku called his name, and Hakaze exhaled sharply, leaning far enough to fall apart from a light push. The moodiness was strangely out of place. It was none of Shu's business, especially since Otogari seemed unbothered, but the pair were an odd sight. Why were they sitting next to each other if Hakaze was so irritated by his former unit member?

Well, whatever. Shu had only come to the table for a distraction, but now, he had a legitimate course of action.

“Mika and I are compiling a case,” he announced, which was true enough. The three other men (Sengoku had scooted back to RYUSEITAI) looked up at him. “Against Astaroth. I'm sure you all know that Monarch was a favored target of theirs.”

Kuro's face creased with rage, and Hakaze and Otogari both nodded.

“Aira mentioned that before,” Otogari echoed, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It's terrible. Kagehira sometimes stopped by our practices to comfort Aira after an incident, so my offer stands. If you want ALKALOID's testimonies, I can get them.”

“Mine as well,” Hakaze pitched in. “You probably already asked Kohaku, but I'd be happy to get everyone in Freebirds to write something down. Astaroth never went after our throats, but they pissed me off when they formed. Talking about how they were a better UNDEAD.”

The other man snarled, and Otogari lifted a hand as if to pat Hakaze's shoulder. He hesitated, then drew back. Odd.

“Thank you,” Shu said. “And no, I haven't told Oukawa. Mika and I have kept the case close to our chests so Astaroth isn't alerted. Your discretion would be appreciated.”

Hakaze pulled his phone from his pocket. “Sure, sure. I'll text Tojo right now. Freebirds wasn't doing anything today, anyway.”

Shu nodded in return, pleased, and straightened. He felt Kuro's curious gaze on him, but he'd message the taller man personally later. Kuro's opinion on their evidence and his firsthand encounters under Rhyth Lin would be invaluable, yes, but it wasn't a conversation for a public setting. Besides, Shu still had a cake to deliver.

“Man, I feel bad for Kagehira,” Hakaze sighed suddenly, setting his phone on the table. “I was a floater for a long time after UNDEAD disbanded, so I couldn't really help him out. But he had Kohaku, and now you're helping. And Narukami, of course. They were always a good pair.”

Something about the phrasing caught Shu's attention, and he frowned, trying and failing to ignore the tightness in his gut. “What do you mean?”

Hakaze blinked. “I mean, they're together. I thought you'd know, being part of Valkyrie.”

Jealously roared in Shu's chest faster than he could quell it, and it took several long moments to stem the flood. Shame quickly followed it, clogging his throat until he struggled to breathe. Of course Mika and Arashi weren't together. Shu knew that, because Mika wouldn't keep that from him, and Arashi was too kind-hearted to purposefully hide it.

But something terrifyingly close to fear still seized his stomach. “What-ifs” circled his head, stomped on Shu's heart until his whole chest ached. He wasn't in the picture. No one looked twice at him. That statement probably wasn't logically sound, but the roar in Shu's head drowned out any sort of rationality.

Kuro, ever the god-send, chose that moment to step in. “They aren't together,” he said mildly, and Shu made a silent resolution to thank him profusely at a later date.

“They aren't?” Hakaze asked, puzzled. “But they've always been close, and Narukami made that earring for him. You know, back when he was performing as Monarch. I never would've thought Kagehira swung that way, either, but-”

A fresh wave of anger burned through Shu's chest. “Which way?” he cut in.

“Towards... men?”

It took every shred of Shu's self-control to keep himself from leaning across the table and slapping Hakaze as hard as he could. He was still on edge, unbalanced from the influx of emotions, and Hakaze didn't look malicious – just bewildered. Though Shu had no idea how the other man could've possibly missed it after being part of Kohaku's unit, Hakaze had never seemed close to Freebirds, exactly. It was probably a misunderstanding.

(Out of the corner of his eye, Shu spotted Kuro's amused grin. Maybe he wouldn't thank him quite so profusely.)

“Arashi is a woman,” Shu said icily. He couldn't help a silent sigh of relief when Kaoru's eyes went wide. “And if you're referring to Mika's Monarch earring, I made that.”

Hakaze looked like he'd been dunked in ice water. Twisted satisfaction flickered in Shu's heart.

“Ah,” Hakaze said dumbly. “Uh- sorry, Itsuki. So you're-?”

The question was obvious, and the answer wasn't strictly “yes.” Still, the jealousy roiling in Shu's gut wouldn't let him do anything except raise his eyebrows derisively, and Hakaze nodded a few too many times.

“Got it. Yeah, uh- I'll talk to Tojo about Astaroth.” As quickly as Hakaze's embarrassment had arrived, it hardened back into a tight scowl. “I hate that they're messing up UNDEAD's reputation,” he hissed. “Rei- Sakuma- he had his quirks, but he was a good idol. Made us a good unit. I don't want to see his name dragged through the mud or make Ritsu deal with the fallout.”

Good enough. Otogari was nodding his agreement, too, and Shu knew he'd receive two testimonies by the day's end. He would've thanked them, but Kuro's grin had widened into a teasing smirk.

God, he'd never hear the end of this.

Shu nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and fled the conversation.

He was a fool and an idiot. As soon as Kuro opened his mouth to one of Shu's friends, everyone would know what he'd implied. Granted, he'd already let his self-control slip once (it terrified him that Ran hadn't flinched when Shu didn't protest being called Mika's “boyfriend”). A second time wouldn't be so quickly glossed over. It was nothing short of a miracle that Kohaku hadn't already torn him to shreds.

Shu's thoughts circled back to Arashi, and he breathed a silent apology. He should never have gotten jealous. Mika's relationship with Arashi was something precious, a once-in-a-lifetime dynamic that Shu was genuinely glad Mika had. They were good for each other.

And Arashi looked at Shu with worry. She'd willingly opened her arms to him, despite all his mistakes.

Maybe it was time to reach out.

Slowly, Shu drew his phone from his pocket. His hand shook, but he stubbornly ignored the tremors, navigating to his contacts and pressing Arashi's number. The call picked up halfway through the second ring.

“Shu.”

The words died in his throat. Shu didn't ask for help; that wasn't how he operated; the secrecy and privacy kept him safe from the scarred-over wounds he'd nursed for years. Mika was different. Mika had seen him at his worst.

Arashi wasn't Mika. And that was why this mattered so much.

“Are you free right now?” Shu asked, and he cringed at his wavering voice. But he pressed onward, ignoring the flurry of shame. “I need to talk to you.”

A beat.

“I thought you might. Well, lucky you. Look up.”

Somehow, Shu wasn't even surprised. He followed the order and immediately spotted a slim figure leaning against a nearby wall, her arms crossed and her phone gently pressed to her ear. A slightly melancholy smile touched her face.

“I had a hunch,” Arashi murmured once Shu had made his way over to her. He scoffed, and her smile grew a little wider. “Call it an instinct after being around Mika for so long. Come on. The Sky Garden is usually empty right now.”

On any other day, Shu would've rebuffed Arashi's guiding hand at his elbow. It seemed cruel to do so now, when she was sacrificing her valuable time to listen to him complain.

Why do you care about me, Narukami?

True to her word, the Sky Garden was blessedly silent. The sun shone overhead, bathing the world in a warm swath of golden light, and the tension in Shu's chest eased at the fresh air. Arashi headed straight for a low wall tucked in the shade of the bushiest tree, and Shu reluctantly followed.

“Sit,” Arashi urged, delicately crossing her legs. Shu did, though he maintained a healthy distance between them. “Alright. Tell me everything.”

“Everything” was such a big concept. “Everything” took him back to Paris, weaving between the long nights and leisurely days where this growing storm had first formed. Or maybe “everything” went even further back, to Acanthe, when Shu had hunched over his notebook for hours as he poured out his heart without even realizing it.

“Everything” meant exposing how raw and vulnerable and afraid he was, how Shu's heart was beating on display for the world to see.

“Everything” could ruin him.

Shu inhaled deeply, released it, and forced out one halting sentence. “I am madly in love with Mika Kagehira.”

Such a simple, childish sentiment. Yet it felt like a weight off Shu's shoulders, finally dropping a bag of bricks he'd been lugging around for years. He sagged, scrubbing shaking hands over his face, and waited for the inevitable judgment.

“Hm. I'm glad to finally hear you say it.”

Shu grimaced. He hadn't been subtle at all, had he?

“I'm guessing you've known since you got back?” Arashi asked, and Shu nodded. “You might think I'm lying, but that night you moved in, I finally understood why Mika kept flying out to Paris. It was the way you looked at him – like no matter what happened, there was no place else in the world you'd rather be.” Arashi chuckled softly. “You were even willing to play nice with me.”

It was partially true; Shu had desperately wanted to be a better person for Mika. But his prouder side couldn't help but correct, “That wasn't all because of him. I knew I had to change.”

A beat.

“So?” Arashi pressed, painfully gentle. “Why now? You've been off for days.”

Alright, that stung. It was true, though.

“I can't focus,” Shu admitted, and he had to concentrate to cobble the words together from his fractured thoughts. The tremor in his hands had worsened. “It's disturbing my whole life – our rehearsals, songwriting. If this continues, I won't be able to create. I can't let that happen.”

Arashi examined him with a curious eye, and Shu swallowed the urge to look away. “Your feelings are slipping into your work,” she decided eventually. “You were holding back in Furies, weren't you?”

Shu couldn't help a frustrated sigh. “This is ridiculous. How could you tell?”

“I've listened to you and Mika for months,” Arashi giggled. “Don't think I'm not paying attention. You were more hesitant in singing Kaleidoscope, too. Kohaku noticed. I'm sure Mika did.” That brought a pang of guilt to Shu's heart, and he caved, tearing himself away from Arashi's too-sharp gaze. “But you already knew that. What's stopping you from being as... passionate as usual?”

Everything.

“I think you're overcompensating,” Arashi added absently, and she rested her chin in her palm, gazing out over the garden. “Because you've been repressing how you feel for so long, you don't know how to modulate anymore. It's not an uncommon response. You'll feel better once you say something.”

Even though it wasn't the point of the conversation, Shu still frowned at how easily Arashi spouted off a perfectlyrational explanation of his behavior. She must've given this speech before or otherwise lived the experience.

Come to think of it – of her colorful nails that hadn't been painted when Shu had left Japan and the dark makeup accenting her eyes – Arashi probably did know what repression did to someone.

“I'm afraid.”

The words burned Shu's tongue like an open flame, scalding and shameful and too close to everything he never wanted to be again. But they rang true, and the corners of Arashi's mouth softened in sympathy.

“What I have with Mika,” Shu continued, forcing each word past his uncooperative tongue, “is precious beyond measure. It is this delicate, beautiful, fragile thing, and I-” Shu squeezed his fists until his knuckles ached. “I will break it,” he whispered. “I have broken everything I've ever held, and I cannot hurt him again. But if I don't do something, I will lose him to someone else, or I'll make Valkyrie a burden upon him, and-”

His pride clamped his mouth shut, and Shu shook his head under his ears rang. God, his thoughts were so loud.

“So you only want to say something so you can create again?”

Arashi's voice wasn't judgmental, only concerned and curious, but frustration still gripped Shu's heart in a vice. “It's not only that,” he snapped, and he prayed Arashi knew he wasn't upset at her. “I owe it to Mika. I can accept it and move forward if I have a definite answer. Then I'll write and perform without wasting time thinking of useless revisions.”

“Revisions?” Arashi echoed, confused. Shu nodded tightly, and her expression cleared. “Ah. Furies. Do you want to sing part of it to me?”

That was a terrible idea. If he gave voice and melody to those insistent lyrics, Shu would never be rid of them. Every time he sang Furies, the loss would slam into his chest and leave him paralyzed.

But he couldn't keep his longing inside.

“Stay by my side 'til the end
This, my dear, is all I'll ask
Stay by my side 'til I see
our renewing paradise

Hum the sweet hymn of the dying light
My angel in gold”

He let the final note trail into the empty garden, and Shu couldn't tell if he felt better or infinitely worse. This entire situation was like walking a double-edged knife.

“It reminds me of Acanthe,” Arashi murmured. Shu flinched. He didn't mean to. “They're both love songs, aren't they?”

Yes.

“Valkyrie doesn't write 'love songs,'” Shu muttered.

Arashi eyed him. “No? I thought Valkyrie was human now, and love is one of the most human emotions there is. I know I love Mika. I also love cute things, and I love myself. Isn't the ballad you co-authored with Nazuna about love, too? So, clearly, Valkyrie does write love songs. You just don't write songs about romance.”

If anyone ever claimed that Arashi Narukami wasn't one of the most perceptive idols in ES, Shu would call them an idiot. It was unnerving but relieving, how easily she saw through his stubborn defenses. Solidarity was not a familiar feeling from him.

“You want to know what I think?”

Shu dipped his head wordlessly.

“I think Mika is in love with you, too.”

The world fell silent. Shu took one rattling breath, then another, and with each slightly more panicked inhale, his senses revived; first touch, then the scent of the flowers and the gentle rustle of the breeze. But Shu couldn't feel any of it. He was gasping for breath, almost on the verge of tears, and he didn't know why.

“He never told me, if that's what you're worried about,” Arashi continued softly, and Shu frantically latched onto her grounding voice. “But he never needed to say anything. Neither did you.”

Too vulnerable. Too terrifying. Too many unknowns, the prospect of exponential loss.

And buried beneath it all, a faint, barely-there glimmer of desperate hope.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and Shu tensed. But Arashi didn't withdraw.

“Mika's my best friend,” she continued. Her gaze trailed across the far-away horizon, simultaneously giving Shu space and keeping him close. “It hurt at first, seeing how much he loves and trusts you. Watching you become a better Valkyrie. I wish I had your unit chemistry sometimes.”

Arashi paused to toss her hair out of her face, almost flippant. “Of course, I know it's a completely different type of love, and he loves me as much as he always has,” she chuckled, and her confidence slowed Shu's hammering heart. “But that's the thing, Shu. It's different for you. I was in the crowd of your revival Live, and everyone there saw sparks on that stage. I was almost jealous.”

So it was true. From that first Live to their hours of rehearsal, Arashi had seen everything. Shu so desperately wanted to believe her that it made his whole body ache.

But he couldn't.

“I don't need false hope,” Shu rasped.

Arashi groaned and smacked his shoulder hard enough to leave a stinging after-burn. “It isn't false hope!” she protested, her voice pitched up with indignation. Despite everything, Shu couldn't help an unsteady smile. “Shu, if Mika doesn't eagerly confess his love for you in return, I'll import whatever fabrics from France you want as a consolation prize.”

“Careful with your words,” Shu warned. “The shipping is hideous.” Arashi rolled her eyes. “If you were so certain, why didn't you pull me aside before now? It's been five months.”

As quickly as it'd come, Arashi's amusement dimmed into solemn contemplation. She turned back to the horizon, and her eyes seemed a shade brighter than usual in the speckled shade. She really was beautiful, Shu thought.

“Despite what the other Knights say,” Arashi murmured, “I don't meddle that much in my friends' lives. Besides, Mika never told me anything. That's how scared he is of losing you.” Warm purple eyes flicked back to Shu, and they crinkled with a teasing smile. “Just as scared as you are.”

His resolve was quickly waning. One more push, and Shu wouldn't be able to hide behind his excuses. Arashi seemed to recognize his weakness because, in a rush of movement, she knelt in front of him and gently took his hands. She squeezed once, and Shu realized he didn't hate the contact.

“Shu,” Arashi sighed, fondness lurking at the edges of her voice, “if you tell Mika you love him, what do you really think is going to happen? He'd profess his love to the whole world if you let him.” Shu wrinkled his nose, and Arashi laughed delightedly. “Exactly. I've seen him interested in other people while you were gone, but he always came back to you. Mika loves you.”

The thin strand encircling Shu's neck snapped.

No more hiding.

“You have quite the way with words, Narukami,” he griped, and Arashi's face lit up with a proud smile. Something in his posture must've changed, because she stood and planted her hands triumphantly on her hips. Shu shot her a baleful look. “You've been planning this for some time, haven't you?”

“Mhm!” Arashi agreed brightly. “Now, I'm sure Nazuna's said this already, and probably Kohaku, too, in his own way, but allow me to say it to your face.”

Arashi leaned forward, and Shu stiffened under her suddenly serious gaze.

“Shu Itsuki,” Arashi said solemnly, backlit by a brilliant blue sky, “if you break Mika's heart, I will break your body. There will be nowhere on this earth you can hide. If a romantic relationship doesn't work out or Valkyrie disbands, that's fine. Sometimes, things aren't meant to last forever. But if you take that tender heart of his and crush it, I will take off your head. Okay?”

At that moment, Shu understood what it was like to fear for his life.

“There's no need to threaten me,” he muttered, deliberately scooting back a few inches. “It would kill me if I left.”

Arashi looked at him for a long moment, those piercing eyes darting back and forth across his face. Finally, she smiled. “That's what I thought,” she said, far too pleased, and Shu shot her another dark look. Arashi just laughed again. “Well, you have my blessing. Go sweep him off of his feet. And make sure he knows it's a date, not one of those 'lunches' you two have all the time.”

“You call your lunches with him 'dates,'” Shu grumbled, a little affronted.

“It's not the same!” Arashi protested. “And you never told me what you thought of Mika's outfit! Don't think I forgot! You are a renowned designer, and I expect feedback!”

A white coat, slipping from slender shoulders, paired with a loose shirt, flattering jeans, and boots that'd clicked a little with each step. Mika could've stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine.

Shu swallowed around the ball that'd lodged itself in his throat. “He was beautiful,” he croaked, and Arashi paused mid-inhale, eyes wide. “You did well.”

Was it that simple? They'd had their conversation, Arashi had given him her blessing, and now, Shu could finally break his self-imposed shackles? It felt too easy. But he'd always made life too hard for himself, and maybe, just maybe, emotions weren't supposed to be so agonizing.

“At least someone appreciated his outfit,” Arashi conceded, and she crossed her arms over her stomach. “There's a street fair he and I were planning to go to last year, but we got held up with work. That sounds like a good 'first date.'”

“I saw the preparations,” Shu said absently. “I wanted to take him.” The words caught up a second too late, and he stiffened at the admission. But that was right; Arashi knew the truth now, and she just sighed fondly.

“Oh, you're hopeless. Go. You'll have a good time.”

He did. He could picture it already.

God, Shu would never be able to repay what Arashi had given him.

“I'm glad Mika has you,” he offered before he could think better of speaking, and Arashi jerked in surprise. Shu met her gaze steadily. (He wouldn't be a coward anymore.) “He loves you deeply, and I think he always will. You're good for each other.”

Arashi was silent. She slowly covered her mouth, then pressed a finger to her eye with a quiet sniffle. Shu pretended he didn't see her tears.

“I love him, too,” Arashi said, trailing into a watery laugh. “He's one of the best people I've ever met. Better than me, I think.”

Shu knew that feeling well, too.

“Thank you,” he said hesitantly. “For everything. It is a pleasure to know you, Arashi.”

They stared at each other for a moment, again silent, surrounded by the peaceful privacy of the Sky Garden. Then Arashi's shoulders shuddered, and she leaned down with a teary, “Shu...” He let Arashi wrap her arms around him, pulling him into as tight a hug as she could manage from their awkward angles. And suddenly, Shu's heart felt warmer.

A dear friend.

“Don't do that to me,” Arashi complained, releasing him and dabbing at her eyes again. “This foundation is expensive! Aah... go talk to Mika already. He's still in the practice room, waiting for you.”

A bolt of electric excitement jittered up and down Shu's spine, and his body was up and moving before his brain could catch up. By the time he blinked again, he was stumbling through ES's halls, zeroed in on the distant practice room.

So close. Tonight, no matter what happened, Shu would tell Mika the unfiltered truth. It almost seemed cruel to withhold information from his partner for so long. He trusted Mika with everything in his heart, and this would be no different.

Tonight, he'd finally be free.

Shu reached the practice room in record time, and he shouldered through the door without bothering to knock. Immediately, he was captivated by the man in the center of the room, his chest flat to the floor as he scrolled through his phone. Mika's head snapped up at Shu's entrance, and the shorter man smiled broadly.

“Welcome back,” he called, eagerly clambering to his feet and jogging over. “Kohaku left a while ago, sayin' that Tojo had texted him 'bout somethin' for Freebirds. That was your doin', right?” Mika glanced down at Shu's hands and jutted out his bottom lip in a slight pout. “Aww. No sweets?”

God, Mika was so precious. Shu longed to take his partner's face in his hands and sweep his thumbs beneath those dazzling eyes. As it was, he settled for making a quick sweep of the room, stuffing all their things into his bag, then taking Mika's hand and tugging him towards the door.

“Rehearsal is over,” Shu said at Mika's bewildered look, and joy raced around his chest in leaps and bursts of pure love. “There's a street fair nearby. We're going.”

Chapter Text

A year ago, shortly after returning from a Paris trip, Mika had noticed preparations for a street fair near ES. He'd excitedly pointed it out to Arashi, who'd responded with just as much enthusiasm, and they'd started scheduling a fun night out. Unfortunately, their plans had almost immediately fallen through. Such was the life of the most popular solo idol and a wildly successful unit.

Mika had gazed longingly at the street fair every day after that, wishing he had the time to enjoy it with a friend. (He'd invited Nazuna and Kohaku, too, but Kohaku had been too busy with the recently-created Freebirds, and Nazuna had been in the middle of a shuffle unit project.) When the fair had finally closed, taking all the decorated booths and delicious smells with it, Mika had suffered an odd sense of loss and silently resolved to go the following year.

Once, and only once, he'd imagined going to the fair with Shu. It'd been a baseless hope; Shu had still been in France then, and he'd always turned his nose up at the traveling fairs that occasionally journeyed through Paris.

“What?” Mika had asked, utterly bewildered, as Shu had insistently tugged him down the hallway. “What fair?”

Shu had shot him a knowing look, and Mika's heart had leapt into his throat. (He hadn't dared to hope. Given how busy they were with the IDT, he never would've brought it up. They barely had time to eat and sleep and stay healthy.)

“There's going to be a special performance tonight,” Shu had said, which only confused Mika more. “Art in Motion.”

Mika had remembered posters for that event, too – artists dancing across a giant canvas.

It was a little unreal, he thought, to see the other Valkyrie now. Shu stood in the shade of a flowering tree, his arms crossed over his chest and his face hidden from the last rays of dusk sunlight. Dark eyes examined a nearby booth with a surprising amount of tolerance – almost amusement, by a certain leap of the imagination. He'd changed at their apartment, and the casual yet elegant outfit made Mika's chest constrict in such familiar pain.

Shu suddenly met Mika's gaze, and his expression softened into blatant fondness. “What did you decide on?” he asked, and Mika blinked, startled out of his hazy stupor.

“Uh-” Mika shook his head until he could think straight again (an ironic statement at best), then trotted over to his companion, offering the second cup he held. Shu took it with an appreciative nod. “Sencha,” Mika reported, clutching his cup with both hands. “I just wanted somethin' warm.”

Shu hummed his understanding and took a deep draft of his tea (jasmine, he'd requested). On most days, Mika would've torn his gaze away, if only to stave off a rampant blush. But his skin buzzed, and the fair was so lively and warm. Mika couldn't resist following Shu's gentle swallow and the flutter of his eyes. The taller man's cheeks seemed flushed, though it was likely just a trick of the amber lights strung along every booth or the last remnants of spring chill.

“I'm impressed,” Shu admitted. “The flavor isn't overpowering.”

Mika grinned. “It was a professional tea maker. You'd think they'd be good at what they do.”

“You would think.”

Shu started into the crowd, and Mika happily joined him, sipping his tea as they walked. They wandered along one of the fair's many lanes, passing carnival games, chefs, and handicraft vendors peddling exquisite wares. Several times, a particularly ornate piece had caught their eye, and Mika had accidentally sparked a long conversation with a weaver over their stitching.

It was beautiful, really. Everything about it. The fair's brilliant lights, the constant smell of delicious food, and Shu at his side, sipping from his cup as if there were no place else he'd rather be.

Maybe that held a nugget of truth, given that Shu had stopped their rehearsal midway through. Part of Mika worried (Shu never stopped rehearsals unless something was terribly wrong), but the other Valkyrie hadn't said anything and seemed to be in better spirits than he had in weeks. Whatever had happened, Mika could ask after the night was over.

(Did that make him selfish? Desperately trying to sustain this strange moment, this bubble of precious time?)

An elbow gently jostled his, and Mika followed Shu's indicative nod. He instantly spotted a table laid with jewelry, and the vendor brightened as they approached.

“Your earring is beautiful,” she called, tapping her ear.

Mika copied the motion, and his heart lurched as his fingers brushed the Monarch earring. (He really should've taken it off, as it was basically his calling card, but Mika never took the earring off. No reason to start now.) “Thank you,” he mumbled, returning her smile bashfully. “It was a gift. I can't make anythin' like this.”

“He's being modest. I just had ample time to work on it.”

It took Mika far too long to realize that Shu had spoken. Once he did, he stared at the taller man, dumbstruck. Shu was still looking at the vendor, as irritatingly composed as always. He never talked with strangers or discussed his own projects.

“It's an incredible piece,” the vendor continued, and she looked between them. “Are you both designers?”

A smile touched the corner of Shu's mouth. “Of a sort.”

“I know the feeling. My girlfriend made me a bracelet a few months ago. I never got her to tell me how long she'd been planning it.”

The vendor absently touched the back of her hand, and Mika briefly appreciated the gold coil wrapped around her wrist. With a jolt, he realized that she'd said "girlfriend," and oh, huh, he wore his earring all the time, too, didn't he?

“She never will,” Shu chuckled. “We have to keep some secrets.”

Had Mika knocked his head on something on the way in? He must've.

“Well, designers aren't inclined to buy anything,” the vendor sighed, but it was a good-natured statement. “Not when we can make it ourselves. I hope you're enjoying the fair. There's a lot more vendors and events than last year. Did you hear about the Art in Motion performance they're hosting?”

Shu glanced at Mika expectantly, and Mika frantically cobbled his thoughts together, praying they came out coherent. “Yeah,” he said, only a little unsteadily, thank the gods. “Yeah, that's why we came tonight. Er, I didn't get to see it last year.”

The vendor grinned. “Have fun.”

“Thanks.”

Mika fled the conversation as fast as politely possible, and to his relief, Shu came along without complaint. They wandered silently for a few minutes, passing the fair's rows at a comfortable meander, and Mika stewed the whole way. Gods, did he say something? Shu was clearly in a good mood; wouldn't he ruin it by bringing it up? Aah, what was going on? The taller man had seemed so despondent for days.

“What are you thinking so loudly about?”

Amusement curved Shu's voice into a needle that pricked Mika's heart, and he glanced up. Shu was already watching him, the fond half-smile that'd become so familiar tugging at his face.

“You don't usually chat with vendors,” Mika said weakly.

Shu eyed him, clearly unconvinced, then turned his gaze back to the lane. “Her craftsmanship was surprisingly experienced,” he admitted. “And she spoke to you first.”

That doesn't explain anythin', Mika wanted to protest. But if Shu was having fun, that was all that mattered. Right? Right.

In moments like these, with Shu barely a step away and so clearly content, Mika desperately wanted to confess everything he'd hidden. Blurting out, “I love you,” seemed more plausible when they were protected in these bubbles, away from the idol world and their hectic lives. Saying it here, between stalls and laughter and Shu's slight smile, might go well.

Mika wanted to, but he never did.

So he took a deep breath and shoved all his feelings aside, to be dealt with once he was home and safely in bed. The fair was so vibrant and colorful; it felt like they were walking through a master's painting. Mika had snagged his wallet, but he'd resigned himself to only getting snacks. Gods knew he'd buy everything if he could, including the first jacket or shirt that caught his eye.

As if brought to life by his musings, Mika suddenly noticed a flash of silver nearby. He squinted through the crowd, then gasped softly at the sparkling sweater. He tugged Shu's sleeve before he could stop himself, and the taller man followed his gaze curiously.

“Hm.”

That was all the warning Mika got before Shu headed for the rack. He scrambled along, still enamored with each shining thread. Mika stroked a revenant hand down its front once he was close enough, and to his delight, the fabric was incredibly soft.

“Take a picture,” Shu ordered, examining the collar.

Mika glanced up. “What?"

“I can recreate it. It's a simple pattern.”

Mika's first thought was that he hadn't worn anything handcrafted by Shu in ages (the second rendition of their Valkyrie uniforms would be handmade, though; they owed it to themselves), and his heart threatened to burst with joy. His second was that Shu had no free time between their frantic rehearsals for the IDT, and the taller man never made implicit promises without following through.

“Okay,” Mika mumbled, and he snapped a picture.

Slowly, the sun sank below the horizon, and the colorful sunset gave way to the ethereal glow of evening. Every light in the fair came to life, burning gold and white and orange. The longer Mika walked, the more it felt like they weren't even in Japan anymore. They'd stepped into some dimension outside their own, where the world was happy and vivid.

Thank you, Mika almost said as Shu guided him around a group of chattering people with a gentle hand on his back.

You look amazin', he almost whispered as Shu trailed slender fingers across an intricate tapestry with a thoughtful expression.

Why'd you bring me here?

“Why not here?”

Mika jumped, startled, and he realized with mounting horror that he'd said that last sentiment aloud. He whipped around, momentarily lost in the sea of humanity, before finding Shu still at his side. Worry creased the taller man's brow, but his voice was smooth as he added,

“We both needed a break. I saw the preparations a few weeks ago and thought you'd enjoy it.”

Such a simple statement. But there was so much packed into it that Mika blinked back sudden tears. He was overwhelmed by sheer happiness and confusion, which always made him more emotional, but... Shu had thought about him? And specifically chosen to come here, knowing he would like it?

“Thanks,” Mika murmured, and he tried his best to ignore how shaky his voice was.

Shu's worry cleared. “Did you want something to eat? It's getting late.”

Mika pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. Gods, it was already 8:30? They had to leave soon; tomorrow was booked with meetings with producers and reviewing the venue and stage, and they needed plenty of sleep to keep on track.

But they could stay a little longer. At least until they saw the “Art in Motion” exhibit.

“Maybe somethin' sweet,” Mika admitted. “I haven't seen anythin' good, though.”

Shu looked around wordlessly, then strode towards a nearby vendor. Mika assumed he'd spotted a snack and unlocked his phone again, navigating to the notification from Arashi that he'd done his best to hide.

Arashi: are you having fun? <3

Mika glanced up at Shu nervously. The taller man was buying a colorful bag from a smiling attendant.

Mika: what do u mean

Arashi: oh my god
Arashi: don't tell me he didn't take you

That definitely implied that Shu had consulted Arashi before heading to the fair. Mika had no idea how to interpret that, so he settled for snapping a selfie with Shu in the background and sending it.

Arashi: awwwww you're so red Mika!!
Arashi: i was going to kill him if he backed out
Arashi: is he spoiling you?

Yes, Mika thought, slightly hysterical. I don't know what's going on.

Mika: did u know bout this

Arashi: hm?

Mika: arashi

Arashi: oh, fine
Arashi: so what if i gave him a little push?
Arashi: it was his idea, anyway, i just told him to go for it

A ball of tension Mika hadn't noticed suddenly unwound, and he sagged in relief. Shu had seen the fair and decided to take him. He should've known better than to think the other man would lie.

Still, Arashi's phrasing was odd. A little push?

A rustle spread through the nearby crowd, and Mika hurriedly pocketed his phone, resolving to thoroughly interrogate Arashi later. Shu emerged not a second after, the colorful bag in hand. Mika accepted it wordlessly and tried not to flinch as cool fingers brushed against his. (For gods' sake, he thought he'd gotten over being this antsy long ago.)

“Miniature pastries,” Shu explained as Mika carefully ripped the bag. “I recognize the company from ES's catering events. They make excellent cakes.”

A distant memory formed in Mika's mind, and he thought he remembered the company's sprawling logo. He popped one of the butter cookies into his mouth and was instantly treated to a burst of flavor.

Shu's mouth ticked up at the corners. “Good?”

“Mhm,” Mika agreed, and only his last thread of self-control stopped him from devouring the bag in seconds. As it was, he happily munched another cookie and tried not to grin at Shu's snort. Then a nearby booth caught his eye, and his mouth dropped open yet again.

The vendor was selling plushies. The whole stall was full of them, of all shapes and sizes and colors. Mika could feel himself smiling before his brain caught up, and when Shu huffed a laugh, Mika's beaming grin finally broke through. He didn't even wait for Shu to speak before he darted through the crowd.

Oh, they were even cuter up close. Mika wished he could take all of them home, especially a few with scrapes and tears. The booth's sign proudly proclaimed the plushies as “reclaimed,” gently used toys that were donated instead of trashed. Each had been cleaned and stitched, and gods, Mika should've brought more money along; he had to buy all of them-

“You can't empty the booth. We still need L$ for the IDT.”

A hand landed at the small of Mika's back, and he swayed into the touch without thought, even as he protested, “But look at 'em!”

Shu shot him an exasperated expression (and, Mika noted, the taller man was not looking at the plushies- oh, wait, had he been watching Mika?). “Are you willing to carry them around all night?” Shu asked archly, though fondness rid his voice of any edge. “I'll buy one.”

“I-” The sentence caught up to Mika a few seconds late, and he blinked. “What?”

Hesitance flickered in Shu's eyes before vanishing beneath something Mika would almost call determination. (What was he missing here?) “I said I'll buy one,” the taller man echoed, and he walked away from the booth, his hands tucked in his pockets.

Alright, Mika had to question what was happening – if Shu wouldn't spill, he'd pester Arashi until she caved. Beneath their easygoing evening, Mika had noticed a lingering tension in Shu's jaw and shoulders, a line of nervousness he rarely saw on the taller man. He needed to know – he was too worried to let this continue.

But that was after he picked one of these adorable plushies.

It took Mika longer than he cared to admit. A few times, he considered pulling out his wallet and buying two (or three, or more). Judging by the vendor's grin, his conversation with Shu had been painfully conspicuous. Eventually, though, Mika spotted a plushie hidden at the back of the booth. It was a bird, smaller than the others, maybe the size of his palms cupped, and looked like it'd seen more wear and tear.

The little bird was also a lovely shade of pink, and Mika fell in love before he'd even made a conscious decision.

“That one,” he said, and the vendor plucked it from the shelf. “What happened to it?”

“It came from a rough home,” the vendor said ruefully. He gently stroked the bird's head before handing it over, and as soon as it was settled in Mika's hands, he silently promised to take extra good care of it. “We don't have time to patch up all of them, so we had to leave this one with a few rough edges. But-” The vendor glanced over Mika's shoulder, and his grin widened. Mika didn't have to turn to know where the man was looking. “-I like seeing someone purposefully pick the more beat-up ones,” the vendor continued, quieter. “I know they're going to good homes.”

Mika's throat tightened. He nodded a few too many times and hurriedly dug his wallet out of his pocket before he bought anything else. He paid the few thousand yen, bobbed his head in farewell, and darted away, cradling the bird to his chest.

I promise I'll take care of it.

His unwitting inspiration had found an unoccupied bench hidden in the shadow of another sprawling tree, and he looked up at Mika's approach. “It matches my hair,” Shu noted, and that heart-stopping half-smile crept around his mouth.

Mika swallowed the last of his emotions and beamed. “It was tucked away in the back,” he said happily, holding up the little bird. “I dunno if anyone else even saw it. But I'm glad I'm the one that got it.”

Shu gently touched the space under the bird's left eye, where some stuffing was falling out. “It's damaged,” he murmured, and a hint of an emotion Mika couldn't place wavered his voice. “I'm not surprised no one else wanted it.”

“Naw, it's not that bad,” Mika corrected. “All it needs is a little stitching, y'know? That's all any of those plushies need. People pass 'em by 'cause they want somethin' brand new. But these deserve love, too. I'll fix it up and put it on my shelf when we get home.”

Mika inhaled to add that they should find the Art in Motion event – it started at 9, and they didn't have much time left.

Then he met Shu's gaze, and anything he could've said died on his tongue.

Dark eyes pinned him in place, examining him with such a tenderness that Mika felt shivery all over. As close as they were, Mika saw the flecks of light purple glittering in Shu's eyes, and each breath made him lightheaded.

He'd been the subject of Shu's attention for so many years, but it always felt different like this – like the taller man's single-minded focus could strip him down to his bones, and he wouldn't mind.

(His heart suddenly understood why Shu had retained an unexplained edge all evening, and Arashi had asked what she did. But Mika's brain couldn't identify the sudden lurch of adrenaline that spiraled through his chest.)

And then, Shu laughed. It was a soft, gentle sound, one that cradled Mika's heart with invisible hands.

“Mika Kagehira, you fool.”

For a single breath, Mika was launched back in time. He remembered a moment from months ago, during his final trip to Paris, as he'd drifted in and out of a hazy sleep on Shu's couch. (He'd asked Shu to return to Japan on that trip, and he'd never dared to hope that plea would come true.) In that murky gray of peace and safety, Mika had dreamed of a soft kiss pressed to his temple. The mere memory had made his heart jump for weeks afterward, though he'd stubbornly separated the fantasy from reality.

Cool lips pressed against his, and Mika knew he hadn't dreamt a thing.

The world faded to a distant hum. It was barely a kiss, a gentle, chaste touch that tasted of jasmine tea. Shu cupped his face, his thumbs trailing over Mika's cheeks, and Mika... couldn't move. He was shaking, almost crying, his eyes squeezed shut with a desperate hope he couldn't even put words to. When Shu pulled back with a soft exhale, the first tears escaped.

Three years. More than that, all the time spent in Yumenosaki and everything they'd done after Shu's graduation. Valkyrie, then Monarch, now Valkyrie again, the best they'd ever been. Heartache, mending, trust, love.

Mika let out a strangled sob and opened his eyes.

Shu watched him worriedly, thinly-veiled fear shining in eyes made of stars. His hands trembled just as much as Mika's, and he slowly started to retreat.

“I'm sorry,” Shu rasped, and he sounded stricken, his fingers drifting across Mika's cheeks as if trying to memorize how his skin felt for the last time. “I'm sorry. I-”

No.

Mika lurched forward, and as soon as he moved, the world unfroze; his heart started up, and Mika finally remembered how to breathe. He tossed his bird plushie at the nearest bench, prayed that it landed, and grabbed the front of Shu's jacket. Distantly, he hoped he'd be forgiven for rumpling the fabric. All Mika really saw, though, was Shu's horrible, petrified expression.

“Don't be sorry,” Mika whispered, and he choked on the words. Shu trembled beneath his hands, and Mika could only hold on tighter. “I- I'm not-”

His voice gave out. His heart was twisting around in his chest, overrun by the fervent hope he'd repressed and squashed for what felt like his whole life. Mika couldn't think straight anymore; all he could focus on were Shu's dark eyes and a repeating mantra of please, please, please-

Hands rested on his hips, slender fingers finding a sliver of skin between his jeans and shirt.

“Mika,” Shu breathed, and his ragged voice made Mika shake. “Kiss me.”

Mika obeyed without thought. Whatever had been holding him together collapsed, and lightning danced up his spine as one of Shu's hands lifted to his jaw, tilting his chin up. There it was – an impossible gentleness undercut by a beautiful edge. At that moment, under the power of that touch, Mika would've done anything Shu asked of him.

They broke apart, and Mika couldn't stifle a soft gasp. They hung there, silent, hovering a breath apart.

Memories spiraled around his head, moments taken from the last five months of their lives. Suddenly, he wondered how many of Shu's lingering glances had carried these feelings. How many of those touches could've become this, this release, if only Mika had said something?

A little push.

A laugh burst out before he could stop it, and Mika pulled back enough to look at Shu fully. “Is this a date?” he asked, unable to stop a dopey smile or find it in himself to care about his cracked voice.

Shu blinked. Then understanding swept across his face, and he let out a melodramatic groan, resting against Mika's shoulder. “When you did even find the time to talk to Arashi?” he muttered, and Mika could only laugh again, nuzzling into silky soft hair. (He could let himself do that now. Gods, his heart might explode.) “Yes. It is.”

“She texted me,” Mika said, trying and failing to control his giggles. “Asked if I was havin' fun.”

Shu straightened, and his eyes burned with a silent question. Mika didn't have time to answer (yes, 'course I am), because the taller man gently pressed their foreheads together. Mika closed his eyes and melted into the warm embrace.

“My dear Kagehira,” Shu murmured into the mere breath between them. “I have loved you for... longer than I'm willing to admit. I'm sorry for keeping that from you.”

Mika shook his head a little. “Naw,” he mumbled, “I didn't say anythin', either. It ain't all on you.”

A beat. The world rushed around them, and they stood together, frozen in their moment.

“Mika.”

When he blinked, he found Shu already watching him, melancholy touching the edge of his expression. Mika longed to wipe it away, but he still didn't know what he was allowed. There was so much they had to sort through.

“If you are-” Shu inhaled deeply, uncharacteristically nervous. “Unwilling to balance a romantic partnership with Valkyrie's existence, I understand. The unit-”

Panic spiked in Mika's chest for the second time in as many minutes. “No!” he blurted. Shu flinched, and they stared at each other for a second, both stunned. Mika hurriedly shook off his jitters and cobbled together the most coherent sentence he could manage. “Naw, I mean- we'll figure it out. We reformed Valkyrie, right? So we can work this out, too.”

Gods, there was so much Mika wanted to say. So much he wanted to ask. Could his endless hours of fantasizing and aching have been ended while Shu was still in Paris? Had Shu – his partner – been haunted by Acanthe long after they left the stage, too? (Please, could Mika kiss him again?)

But he knew Shu too well to burden him with questions. The taller man needed time to mull things over (and, admittedly, Mika was still really overwhelmed). So, though it took a painful amount of self-control, Mika slid his hands down to Shu's wrists and squeezed once, gently.

“It doesn't matter what it takes,” he mumbled. Part of him wanted to dodge Shu's piercing eyes, out of fearful habit that he'd be caught. But he reinforced his heart and met Shu's gaze steadily, letting the taller man take him apart, piece by piece. “If I had to choose, I'd disband Valkyrie,” Mika added with a lopsided smile. “I ain't givin' you up again.”

I'll follow you back to France, or wherever you go. I don't care what kinda life you want – I'll go with you. I told you, down to the bottom of hell. Whatever happens to Valkyrie, I'm goin' with you.

Mika didn't say any of that. Not yet. For the first time in years, he no longer felt like he was racing against the clock, tripping over his feet in his haste. Shu held him close, and that was all he needed. Mika had finally caught up. They had time.

Shu must've had a similar thought, because his eyes crinkled at the corners, and relief finally loosened his tense shoulders. “You fool,” he sighed. “You already gave up Monarch. Don't let your sacrifice be in vain.”

“I didn't 'sacrifice' all that much, y'know.”

Dark eyes met his, examined his face. So much to talk about.

Slowly, Shu released his hold on Mika's hips and grabbed the bird plushie from where it'd landed (thankfully, on the bench). “After the fair, then,” he offered, holding out the plushie. “Once we're not in the public eye.”

Embarrassment seeped into Mika's chest, coiling weak tendrils around his glowing heart. Right. He'd forgotten that they were still at the fair, and if he had a choice, he'd redo that whole moment in a more private setting.

Then again... light from a nearby booth spilled across Shu's face, catching his hair with shining highlights and painting his flushed cheeks in a warm glow. The remnants of a dazed smile touched his face, and those dark eyes watched Mika with such fondness that he could've melted all over again. This was good enough. (This was what he wanted.)

Mika managed a wobbly smile and took the plushie. “I'll follow your lead,” he murmured. “We should get to the Art in Motion thing.”

Shu checked his phone, then nodded. “It's almost 9. Come on.”

Cool fingers wrapped around Mika's wrist, tugging him along as Shu dove into the crowd. Mika went without complaint. (Though Shu was walking ahead of him, if he squinted, he spotted the fond tip of Shu's lips, something entirely new yet familiar from all the time they'd spent in Paris.)

How long had they pined after each other in silence? Admittedly, Mika hadn't been very “silent.” But the difference was Mika clutching the plushie close to keep his hands to himself and Shu's tight grip on his wrist, almost as if the taller man were making sure he didn't slip away.

Gods, Kohaku was going to kill him. Arashi, too, and probably Hiyori. Mika would have to sit down with Nazuna for a few hours – they still hadn't addressed that moment in their apartment, the things Nazuna had finally opened up about.

With a jolt, Mika realized he'd just assumed he and Shu were together, no conversation necessary.

The answer was obvious, probably. Still, Mika leaned into Shu's side a little, and the taller man glanced at him.

“Are we still partners?”

Shu pressed his lips together, clearly mulling it over. It was an issue of semantics more than anything else, but Mika had long ago learned the value of clarification. (How ironic, given how stubbornly he'd refused to clarify the biggest unknown in his life. Kohaku really was going to kill him.)

“Yes,” Shu said slowly.

“Got it,” Mika chirped, and he allowed his bright grin to break through. “And you have a boyfriend now.”

A hint of teasing flashed through Shu's eyes. “What a bold assumption,” he drawled, and Mika huffed in protest, trying and failing to ignore the soothing circles rubbed into the back of his hand. “Yes, I do. I guess Ran was right to call me yours, as well.”

Mika went through several flashes of emotion in a matter of seconds, and the only reaction he could muster was a pathetic noise. He shook his head in annoyance, but Shu's quiet huff of laughter was well worth it.

Luckily for them, the Art in Motion arena had been neatly cordoned off, and a prominent crowd had already gathered around the exhibit. Shu broke the wall of bodies first, guiding Mika behind him, and within moments, they'd slipped to the front. The artists had clearly already started their performance (Mika's phone read 9:10; what a pity), but even halfway through, it was a breathtaking sight.

A troupe of dancers, maybe eight or nine, if Mika counted the ones standing to the side, leaped and spun around a cloth canvas as big as the clearing. Each wielded a long paintbrush and what looked like rubbery slippers (maybe to reduce the chance of falling). The brushes looked cartoonishly oversized, but each delivered delicate strokes, and the dancers stepped over each other's lines with practiced ease.

“Do you see a pattern?” Shu murmured. Mika shook his head, and the taller man sucked in a quiet breath. “Neither do I.”

“The crowd might be too big,” Mika offered, flapping a hand in the vague direction of the assembled audience. “Y'know, for one design to be visible to all of 'em.”

“Hm.”

They fell silent, and Mika happily lost himself in the dancers and their spontaneous art. Though he had no doubt the moves were scripted, watching them twirl and interact felt oddly similar to an idol Live. The audience was part of the performance, just not actively involved.

Yeah. Mika was glad they'd come for this exhibit.

Finally, the music blasted from nearby speakers came to a sweeping end, and the dancers assembled in the center of their canvas, paintbrushes raised like batons. Mika had a sudden memory of co-authoring and performing Artistic Partisan with ALKALOID. He filed the thought away for later – maybe Amagi would be amenable to another collaboration. For the moment, Mika lent his applause to the already-thunderous crowd.

“Thank you!” the leading dancer called, her cheeks flushed with delight. Mika grinned and clapped louder. “Thank you all so much! We're so glad you could all be with us tonight. But art is, at its heart, collaborative, so we will now open up the canvas to anyone willing to try their hand at 'art in motion!'”

Mika looked around expectantly. There would likely be one or two brave volunteers, and he was genuinely curious to see how others would express themselves in such a unique form.

Shu stepped forward.

Mika blinked, a question on the tip of his tongue. Then he recognized the determined slant to Shu's jaw as he broke from the crowd, and his brain went blank.

“We have our next performer!” the main dancer cried triumphantly, and she waved to the lone paintbrush resting against the stand. Shu took it and a pair of slippers wordlessly. “Do you want to dance alone?”

A nod. Mika's heartbeat pounded against his ribcage, lost to a repeating loop of giddy disbelief.

“Very well! Start the music!”

The main dancer swept off the canvas, leaving Shu alone on center stage, paintbrush in hand, his eyes closed and back rigid. A collective breath of expectant excitement hung over the crowd, and Mika suddenly wondered if this was what it was like to witness a Valkyrie Live – if this was why their audiences always watched so intently.

A swell of music lifted from the speakers, and dark eyes snapped open.

In retrospect, the ensuing performance shouldn't have been a surprise. Shu was an idol, after all, one of the best, and whatever he'd lost during his tenure in Paris had been more than regained throughout the past few months. In fact, Mika would say his partner had evolved into an even more graceful version of himself.

No amount of logical reasoning could've prepared Mika for Shu dancing across the canvas in long, elegant strides. The taller man moved like a figure skater, even in the clunky slippers, the paintbrush trailing behind him in perfect arcs. Distantly, Mika wondered how Shu was calculating each stroke while free-styling an entire routine. The paint had no form, no discernible shape, but Shu never smeared a single line, and it was... beautiful.

Beautiful, Mika thought dumbly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw people lifting their phones, silently mouthing to each other, and pride bloomed in his chest like a flower opening its petals to a shining sun. Yeah. He's beautiful.

Instinct, rather than conscious thought, told Mika that the song was reaching its coda. Shu clearly heard the same, because he slowed his steps, dragging them out with a tortured grace Mika knew so well from their rehearsals. The taller man stepped into a loose turn, spun, and-

Shu sank into a low bow towards Mika, extending the paintbrush in a silent, grand gesture as the song's final notes faded.

Mika's cheeks blazed. The clearing was silent, and oh, gods, everyone had turned to look at him, whispering to each other, asking if “that man” was an idol. Thankfully, the original dance troupe jumped in with thunderous applause, and Mika was released from the public's eye. Shaking, he watched as Shu handed the paintbrush back to the leading dancer, nodded, and stepped off the canvas. The crowd didn't part, but everyone nearby shuffled a step back, leaving Mika alone in a sudden semi-circle.

Shu stopped in front of him, eyes shining with fierce satisfaction. Mika's legs were jelly; forming a coherent sentence sounded like an impossible task with Shu still looking at him like that and the erratic hammering of his heart.

Slowly, his partner lifted one of his hands and kissed his palm. Mika barely swallowed a squawk. Then Shu tugged him back into the crowd, and the sea of people closed around them as the leading dancer began her cry for volunteers once again.

The fair passed in a blur of light and color. Mika followed Shu's guiding hand thoughtlessly, struggling to break the chains that'd lashed around his throat, keeping all his words locked in his chest. Eventually, the chains loosened enough for Mika to take a deep, gasping breath. He blinked, still dazed, and found himself standing at the fair's outskirts, tucked beneath a tree strung with glittering lights. Shu stood at his side, innocently sipping from a second cup of jasmine tea (when had he bought that?).

“A few people tried to follow us,” the taller man said evenly. “So I found somewhere secluded.”

So composed. So gods-damned smooth.

“What was that?” Mika demanded, and he couldn't even spare the emotional bandwidth to be embarrassed when his voice cracked.

“Hm?”

Dark eyes flicked to him, glinting with amusement, and Mika suddenly understood what he'd gotten himself into. Gods, it'd been difficult enough to withstand Shu's undivided attention before; how was he supposed to survive now?

(He wasn't complaining. Mika had always loved having his angel's eyes on him.)

“You don't hafta do any of that, y'know,” he mumbled, absently plucking at the bird plushie's wings. At least he hadn't lost it in his stupor “I don't need some grand confession.” I know you don't like doin' that, he didn't add.

Shu looked at him for a silent moment, thoughtful. “No,” he agreed eventually. “But you enjoy it.”

Mika flinched. It wasn't a negative response, just- startling. After so long, he'd started to take for granted how observant Shu really was. The man could judge microscopic measurements with a single, off-hand glance, and he regularly dragged Mika out of the way before he ran into something, even if he wasn't paying attention. It shouldn't surprise him that, after spending day in and day out together, Shu had made a few logical conclusions.

Maybe Mika was still getting used to the idea of someone caring enough to notice. There were some things his friends didn't see – perhaps because he didn't let them.

But he'd deal with that train of thought later. What would make Shu react in turn? Make him feel so... loved?

Hesitantly, Mika reached out and wrapped his free arm around his partner's. He rested his forehead against Shu's shoulder and hung there, just breathing. Lean muscles released under his touch, and a moment later, Shu gently rested his chin on Mika's bowed head.

Yeah. He didn't want or need declarations, even though Mika would gladly provide them. Shu's love was found in the minutia – in consistency and loyalty.

“Can we go home?” Mika murmured into the taller man's jacket. “I wanna go to bed early tonight.”

Shu nodded. It was a relief, sometimes, that his partner understood him so well.

The walk home was quiet, and it eased Mika's twitchiness. He loved fairs, even though they usually got too loud for him, and Shu clearly relaxed once they were away from the hustle and bustle. It was peaceful, really, to fall into an old routine. Once or twice, their elbows jostled as they stepped closer. Mika hid his grin as best he could and pretended that he didn't notice Shu's answering smile.

A few minutes away from their apartment, a notification from Arashi popped up on his phone. Oh, right, Mika had never finished their conversation. He unlocked his phone and didn't feel all that guilty as he scanned the messages he'd inadvertently missed.

Arashi: so? do you have something to tell me?
Arashi: Mika?
Arashi: i can't believe you, ignoring me like this!
Arashi: i guess i should've expected it
Arashi: have fun <3

9:25 P.M.
Arashi: NAZUNA JUST SENT ME A VIDEO OF SHU
Arashi: MIKA

She'd sent a clip of a video, and Mika bit back a pleased grin as he watched Shu's Art in Motion performance and final bow for the second time. The taller man scoffed (he'd probably been looking over Mika's shoulder curiously), and Mika glanced up at his partner with an even wider grin.

“Don't,” Shu groaned at the same time as Mika snickered, “Valkyrie's gonna be popular for a while now.” Shu glared at him. “I didn't do it for publicity,” he muttered, which they both already knew. “Saegusa is going to have a field day with this.”

“Maybe,” Mika agreed brightly, tapping out a response.

Mika: we watched the art in motion exhibit!!

Arashi: THATS NOT
Arashi: MIKA
Arashi: FIRST THE FLOWERS, NOW THIS????
Arashi: PLEASE TELL ME YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND

It warmed Mika's heart to imagine Arashi and Shu talking about their feelings in some private corner of ES.

Mika: yeah i do ,, 

Arashi: OH THANK GOD
Arashi: don't keep me in suspense like that!! i've been waiting all evening to hear from you
Arashi: or Shu
Arashi: tell him to respond to my messages or i'm making good on my threat

Mika frowned, and when he looked up, Shu had paled a shade.

“That won't be a problem,” the taller man said, a little too quietly. “I'll talk to her tomorrow.”

There was a whole conversation Mika had missed, but he dutifully passed Shu's message along and pocketed his phone. They were almost home, and he didn't want to abandon the warm afterglow still curling around his body.

Everything seemed so normal in their apartment. They removed their shoes, stepped into their slippers, and unpacked their things. It was a routine they'd followed every night for five months, and Mika found peace in the monotony. He and Shu moved around each other so easily, one familiar step at a time.

Why had he ever thought his world could crumble?

“Mika.”

He blinked, straightening from his hunched position over the sink – he'd been getting ready for bed without even thinking about it. Shu hovered in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest with a stifled nervousness Mika was starting to recognize.

“Mmhph?” Mika screwed up his nose, hurriedly spat out his toothpaste, and tried again. “Sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the towel. “What's up?”

Shu hesitated, then turned and vanished back into Mika's room. He frowned but obediently followed. Shu had already sat on the edge of Mika's bed, his gaze fixed between his feet, and oh, right, they should probably talk before passing out. At any rate, Mika wanted Shu to go to bed with all his thoughts in order – the taller man never did well if he left something unfinished.

He tossed his towel back onto the counter and trotted across the room, clambering onto his bed and neatly tucking his legs beneath him. Mika knew this dynamic well; it was almost comfortable by now. Their first conversation in Paris had been infinitely more daunting than this.

“Are you sure?”

A simple question, spoken almost too quietly for Mika to hear. Despite himself, he smiled.

“'course I am,” he said. Shu swayed a little, so Mika gently pressed his knee to the taller man's hip – grounding, but not invasive. “Honestly, nothin' could change, and I'd be happy just knowin' you promised to be my partner. I don't need all that much.”

For as much as Mika had loved that first kiss (which, admittedly, would be something he cherished until the day he died), he truly didn't need anything more than Shu's company. What they were – how they ran and developed Valkyrie, lived in harmony, cared for each other – was the core of his want.

Maybe he should say that.

“Look,” Mika said gently, and he scooted closer to Shu's turned back. “I'm gonna be with you no matter what. Whatever happens to Valkyrie, I'm still gonna love you. You went all the way to Paris, and nothin' changed. Not for me.”

Shu twisted a little, still not quite meeting Mika's gaze, but certainly more physically open. “Why?”

Mika considered for a moment. The memory of Shu's broken expression, mere minutes before Nazuna entered their apartment, still drifted around his head. Judging by the taller man's weary expression, he was thinking of the same. They'd poured their hearts out to each other then, and Mika couldn't think of anything “better” to say now.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “It sounds like you're askin' me what 'love' is, and I don't have a good answer.”

Shu huffed a laugh, and that was enough to make Mika smile. Slowly, his partner lay back, resting his head on Mika's knee and covering his face with his arms. He's exhausted, Mika thought, with no small amount of concern. He absently combed his fingers through Shu's hair and relished that he could. How long have you been carryin' all this around? As long as me?

“I'm sorry,” Shu muttered. Mika hummed curiously when he fell silent, and Shu's chest rose with a deep, steadying breath. “I still don't understand why you're here. Why you stayed with me.“

Oh, that one was easy. “'cause I want to,” Mika echoed. “Y'know how you wanna go home after a long day 'cause that's where you're safe and happy? That's how I feel. You're my home.”

A beat. Once, Mika might've been scared to bare his heart like that. But something buried deep in his chest, a certainty built up over the years, whispered an undeniable reassurance. If Shu loved him, too, then Mika had nothing to fear. His partner would never have acted on his feelings if he hadn't already decided.

And it was true, anyway. Mika had flown to Paris every month, disrupting his career in the process, because that had been his home. Now Shu was here, and his apartment no longer felt empty.

Shu suddenly let out a frustrated huff, and he shifted in a sudden burst of motion. Mika leaned back in case the taller man needed space, but Shu wrapped an arm around Mika's shoulders and dragged him down with a muttered, “Come here.” When Mika blinked again, he and Shu lay together, Shu's arm slung across his waist and their legs tucked neatly. A warm breath spiraled across the back of Mika's neck, followed by cool lips, and oh, okay, sure, Mika absolutely wasn't going to go into cardiac arrest.

“I'm taking you with me.”

The words vibrated against his shoulder, and Mika shivered instinctively. It only made Shu press closer, only made Mika's heart beat harder.

“Wherever I go,” Shu continued, barely louder than a whisper, “I'm never leaving you behind.”

That's all I ever wanted. To be with you, in our new heaven or the world's hell.

Tears pricked at the corners of Mika's eyes. He hurriedly wiped them away and snuggled into the warm embrace as much as he could, trying to memorize the feeling of Shu's body against his. The light in the bathroom was still on, and Mika had to check his phone to ensure his morning alarms were turned on. They couldn't afford to miss any meetings with the IDT looming over the horizon.

Mika didn't move. Shu pressed a few more gentle kisses to his shoulder, and he hummed contentedly. “Don't leave,” he mumbled, barely awake. “I wanna sleep with you tonight.”

Shu stilled. Mika didn't think much of it (his loopy brain was already dragging him down toward sleep), but he became very aware of what he'd said when Shu released him and slipped out of bed. Panic and fear and hurt flashed through Mika's chest in a blinding torrent, shattering the warm bubble he'd been enveloped in all evening.

Then, with a bit of shame, Mika realized that Shu was just turning off the bathroom light. The taller man quickly padded back to the bed and waved a commanding hand. “Get under the covers,” he ordered.

Mika did, and he silently thanked the darkness of his room for hiding his burning cheeks. Alright, duly noted, he still had some things to work on. Not a surprise.

But that would come later. Tomorrow, next week, or after the IDT. Shu had already resumed his previous position, and one last puff of warmth tickled the back of Mika's neck. The twin-sized bed wasn't big enough for two, but Mika couldn't bring himself to care about that.

“G'night,” he murmured, and it trailed into a yawn.

The arm around his waist tugged him a little closer, and Shu's exhale was tinged with affection.

“Goodnight, Mika.”