Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A familiar warmth pressed against him, even as he rose from the dream.

It was a soothing warmth, a comfort, wrapping him up in a manner that made everything else melt away. There was a faint smell that followed, just barely there, like sunlight and fresh grass after rain.

He could hear someone. Faint sounds of sweet laughter floated through the air. A voice saying words he couldn’t quite understand. He couldn’t tell who the voice belonged to, but even now he knew it was someone precious. Someone he wanted to listen to. He felt entirely at peace. There was no longing. No heartbreak. No pain.

Akutagawa opened his eyes.

He was met with the bleak gray paint of his apartment's ceiling.

He sat up slowly, the warmth quickly fading from around him, the covers pooling at his waist doing nothing to protect him from the growing chill. Akutagawa sucked in a breath, lungs rattling as he felt something sliding down his face.

He was crying.

He wasn’t surprised. It had been happening often lately. Akutagawa would fall into a fitful sleep, and dream of something important. Only to wake in tears, the dream fading from his memory before he could tell what it was about.

Akutagawa scrubbed at his face, removing any trace of tears. He let his hands drop into his lap, staring at the pale skin and faint blue veins against his dark covers.

His hands were empty.

Everything was empty. His room, his apartment, his hands, his life. Something was missing, something Akutagawa should have, should be holding onto.

Or…someone?

A frustrated groan filled the room as Akutagawa clenched his fists, pressing them against his eyes, hard enough that he saw stars. He couldn’t remember. He never remembered. He was always left with only this sinking, empty feeling. This growing coldness.

Akutagawa sighed, giving up on trying to remember, and rose to go to the bathroom. He didn’t bother looking at his reflection as he washed his face. He knew what he would see: a pale face framed by black hair, with even darker eyes surrounded by deep shadows. Akutagawa could already hear the lecture he would get from Gin about taking care of himself and making sure he got enough rest.

He left the bathroom and began to get dressed, wondering how he was going to explain his lack of sleep to his sister today. They always met for breakfast on Wednesday mornings, and Gin always made it a point to check on Akutagawa’s medical progress.

How was work going? Fine. Did he remember to take his medication this week? Yes. Was the treatments he attended on Mondays affecting his appetite? No more than usual. Did the doctor recommend anything new to try? No, and I didn’t ask.

The illness was easier to talk about, Akutagawa thought, sliding into his shirt, cold fingers fumbling with the buttons. It had been a constant weight on both his life and Gin’s, and Akutagawa knew Gin was more worried about him than he was himself.

He didn’t want to worry her more, but it was easier to blame his lack of sleep on the cancer rather than a series of strange and inexplicable dreams.

Akutagawa adjusted his collar as he opened the apartment door, letting the cool Yokohama air slide across his face. The familiar skyline spread out before him, all sleek and gray and sparkling in the distance. The blue of the port seemed to be the only color on the horizon.

The light dancing off the waters made something inside him ache.

He walked slowly through the crowded streets, trying to keep his breathing even as he made his way towards the train station. It was strangely busy for a weekday morning, and Akutagawa brushed shoulders with several people as he passed through the turnstile and boarded his train. He didn’t even bother trying to find a seat, just rested his head against the window and watched the city pass by.

He cast a few glances at all the other passengers in the car. There were so many people, so many ages. So many places to be.

Akutagawa wondered where they were all headed. Wondered who they were going to meet, who they were going to see. He wondered if they felt the same way he did, lonely despite being surrounded by a crowd of people.

He wondered if they were searching for someone as well.

He wondered…

* * * * * *

He was dreaming again.

Akutagawa knew he was dreaming because the sounds were all wrong. Something was buzzing, far too low and distant to be his shrill morning alarm.

It didn’t feel like his bed either. He knew he stayed up later than he should have, too focused on his latest project assignment. But Akutagawa really thought he managed to at least drag himself back to his bed. Based on the stiffness beneath him, he must have fallen asleep on the floor where he’d been working.

How nice of Gin to at least drape a blanket over him during the night.

Akutagwa pulled the thin fabric tighter around himself, still trying to make sense of that low droning buzz, when he realized someone was calling his name.

“…kuta…awa…”

It was too far away. And it didn’t sound like Gin at all. He squeezed his eyes tighter and tried to block it out.

“Akutagawa!”

It was a boy's voice. It sounded gentle, but like he was pleading. It sounded lonely, and scared, like the moon hanging by itself in the sky.

“Stop messing around,” the voice said with a nervous laugh.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

Akutagawa curled in on himself. No, I don’t know you. He should be waking up. He would be late for school at this rate, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He rolled over, and his whole body shifted forwards as the train came to a stop, doors sliding open.

Train?

That’s right, he thought. I’m already on my way to school.

Akutagawa really must have stayed up too late last night. He looked down at his uniform, and adjusted the grip he had on his school bag. When he looked up, someone had shuffled their way through the train car to stand in front of him. Akutagawa was suddenly met with wide golden eyes.

It was a boy. He looked slightly younger than Akutagawa, with striking silver hair and a uniform he didn’t quite recognize. He was staring at Akutagawa like he knew him, which was strange because Akutagawa had never seen him before.

“Hey! It’s me!” The boy said, sounding relieved. “Atsushi.”

Akutagawa racked his brain, trying to recall who this guy was, or where they would have met. But he came up with nothing. He was certain his facial expression said as much because the boy’s face, Atsushi’s face, fell slightly.

“I don’t-“

“Haven’t you-“

They stumbled over each other's words staring at each other blankly. Akutagawa was searching for something else to say when Atsushi turned to reach for something in his own bag.

The crowds of people began exiting the train, and their shuffling steps began to push Atsushi farther away from him. For some strange reason, Akutagawa didn’t want him to leave. He took a step forwards, reaching out a hand.

He blinked, and suddenly the edges of his vision started to blur. The train car started going out of focus. Was he still dreaming?

Atsushi turned back towards him, gold eyes shining. He tossed something through the air between them.

“Here!”

Akutagawa’s hand, still extended, caught the object with ease. It was a thin woven cord, dark blue, like the night sky just before the stars appear. He looked back up, but Atsushi was gone.

Akutagawa opened his eyes.

He blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself. He could still hear the boy's voice in his ears.

Atsushi…

What a strange dream. He really didn’t know who the boy was. His gold eyes seemed sad, somehow, and very grim, as if the entire fate of the world hinged on Akutagawa remembering who he was.

It didn’t matter though. It was just a dream. Akutagawa would soon forget it, just like all the others. The sound of that voice slowly faded from Akutagawa’s mind, replaced by another, unfamiliar sound.

That low distant buzzing had returned.

And Akutagawa wasn’t in his apartment.

He stared up at a ceiling that was supposed to be smooth and gray, but was instead exposed planks of smooth polished wood. He turned his head and saw light streaming in through a large window. It was partially covered by worn curtains, and though it Akutagwa saw not the Yokohama skyline that greeted him every morning, but endless expanses of green.

He realized then what that constant noise was.

Cicadas.

Akutagawa sat up abruptly, and became aware of several things at once.

First, he was not in his apartment. He wasn’t even in Yokohama at all.

The scenery outside the window came into focus. The expanse of green he’d seen was miles and miles of forests that stretched as far as he could see. There was a lake in the distance. Homes and buildings dotted the land around it. They were small, and more traditional. Nothing like the sleek skyscrapers and apartments of the city.

Second, someone had changed his clothes.

Akutagawa was a person of habit. He slept in the same pajamas every night. Black sweatpants and a thin sweater. It was near impossible for him to actually get rest in anything else. But right now, he was wearing a thin grey cotton pajama set, short sleeves with longer pants. He could feel the way the fabric twisted around his legs under the sheet.

Third, something was wrong with his hands.

He stared at them as they lay limp in his lap, groggily trying to make sense of them. Instead of their normal pale complexion, they were now tanned, as if he’d actually spent time in the sun. They were no longer smooth, and were instead littered with calluses and small scars.

He turned them over slowly, trying to determine if he was still dreaming. He almost thought he was, but the uncomfortable fabric of this shirt around his neck felt weirdly too real.

Akutagawa was still staring at his hands when a screen slid open on the other side of the room. A door. A girl appeared on the other side.

“You’re late.”

Akutagawa turned his head slowly. She was young, probably only thirteen or fourteen, with dark black hair in twin pigtails. She had bright blue eyes that stared at Akutagawa intensely, a crease forming between her brow. He thought she looked far too solemn for a girl her age.

Akutagawa only blinked at her, unsure of what to say. He didn’t know who she was, or what he was late for. Akutagawa wasn’t even sure if he was still himself at all. The dream was too strange.

The furrow in her brow deepened at his lack of response. She ran her eyes over him, still unmoving on the futon.

“Come on. You know how angry the director will be if you miss roll call and breakfast.”

“Right.” Akutagawa answered unsteadily, still not moving. He didn’t know what else to do.

The girl huffed softly, turning to check the hall beyond the doorway. She turned back to Akutagawa, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I can cover for you for about ten minutes. If you’re not downstairs by then, there is not much else I can do.”

She took a step into the hallway and started closing the door. Akutagawa just stared. The screen was about to click shut, when she added quickly, “You owe me crepes for this.”

Her footsteps retreated quietly.

Akutagawa sat in the almost silence. He shook his head, trying to wake himself. Nothing happened. He turned to the open window and the forest behind it. He lifted his eyes to the sun, blinking in the light. He remained seated on the stained futon.

Well, he thought, maybe I’m having a bad reaction to my medication.

That would explain it, he guessed, dragging himself up from the floor. His doctor had prescribed him a new medication at the beginning of the school year. Maybe strange nightmares were one of the side effects he hadn’t bothered reading about.

He stood up fully, taking a glance around the small room. The window was the largest thing there, and the humid breeze that flowed in slid right across Akutagawa’s skin through his thin pajamas. He felt weird, heavier and lighter in a way he couldn’t explain.

He spun in a slow circle, taking in the rest of the room. Other than the futon, the only other furniture was a small cluttered desk, one set of drawers, and a dirty mirror propped against the wall. It was angled so it was facing away from the futon, and Akutagawa took a few unsteady steps until he was standing in front of it.

His heart was racing as he gazed at his reflection. Akutagawa kept his eyes low, starting with his hands. They were just as he observed before. Still tan, still scarred. His heart seemed to get louder as his eyes traveled upwards.

Even through the clothes, Akutagawa could see this was not his body. It was thin, but not in the way he was. Broad shoulders held up a surprisingly lithe frame. There were hints of muscles along the arms that disappeared into frayed sleeves. The chest rose and fell in time with Akutagawa’s unsteady breathing.

Choppy gray hair fell close around a slender neck, a single black streak threaded through the right side. The chapped lips were dry and red, as if they’d been anxiously bitten for far too long. Akutagawa’s breath stuttered even more as he met his own eyes in the mirror.

Gold eyes.

His heart lurched.

Standing before Akutagawa in the mirror was a silver haired boy with bright, golden eyes. Akutagawa’s heart was pounding.

Who are you?

Akutagawa felt like he should know. But he was grasping at fading straws the more he thought about it.

His breath caught as Akutagawa finally realized the cause of that unexplained lightness in his body.

His lungs.

They didn’t burn. In spite of his heavy breathing and the humid air, there was no coughing. No need for shallow breaths to protect himself from grating, endless pain.

Akutagawa sucked in a breath, letting his lungs expand as far as they would go. He didn’t think he’d had this much air a single day in his life. He kept breathing in, until it finally began to hurt.

He was unconscious before his head hit the ground.

Chapter Text

The first thing Atsushi registered when he woke up was the sound of Kyouka’s voice, which would normally not be a problem, but seeing as there was light streaming through his window and he could already hear commotion and movement coming from downstairs, it was actually very, very bad.

“You’re going to be late again.”

.
.
.

Late? Again?!

Atsushi shot straight up.

His sister was standing in his doorway, fully dressed for school, her hair already in its signature twin tails. She was staring at Atsushi with a brow raised, questions and concerns silently resting in her eyes.

Atsushi blinked up at her for a beat, his brain finally catching up to everything it noticed, before reality crashed down around him.

“Shit.”

He scrambled up off his futon, reaching for the clothes that should’ve been by his bedside. He always laid them out the night before, a habit instilled in him by the director, but his hand hit cold wood instead. Where are my clothes?! Atsushi groaned and scrambled over to his small dresser instead.

Kyouka was still watching him, eyebrows drawn.

“Do you feel any better?”

Atsushi hobbled on one leg into his uniform pants. “Whaddya mean?” He snatched a shirt out of the top drawer that looked slightly less wrinkled than the others, throwing it on and tucking it in as fast as humanly possible.

She only tilted her head as Atsushi slipped on his socks and stumbled over to his cracked mirror, tie in hand.

“You were acting really weird yesterday. Like you were sick or something.”

Although his adoptive sister was nearly four years younger than him, Kyouka very much acted like the older one between the two of them majority of the time. Although he didn't like to admit it, Atsushi constantly leaned on her reliable presence to keep himself together.

Though, today it really felt like Kyouka was just messing with him.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Atsushi said breathlessly, adjusting his uniform. It wasn’t perfect, but it was acceptable for such a short time. His hair, however, was a different matter entirely. It looked like a small gray cat had decided to live on top of his head.

“You passed out before breakfast.”

Atsushi’s hands stopped where they were mid-air. Kyouka had a funny way of speaking sometimes that came along completely deadpan, no matter what she was talking about. Most of the time it was hilarious, creating several inside jokes between the two of them and their school friends. From the look on her face, Atsushi couldn’t tell if this was one of those times.

He lowered his hands and turned to her in confusion.

Atsushi tried racking his brain to remember what he did yesterday, but nothing out of the ordinary stood out to him. He knew he made it to school on time, and was also on time to his volunteer shift at the museum after school. He really thought he would’ve remembered passing out, but his mind was completely blank.

“I what?”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Both of their heads snapped up as the breakfast bell rang from downstairs.

Damnit, Atsushi cursed mentally. This will have to wait. If both of them were late for roll call, it would mean extra chores for a week. And Atsushi really, really didn’t want to clean the chicken coop again.

He smoothed out his hair as best as he could, and he and Kyouka stepped into the hall and shuffled their way down to the makeshift mess hall.

The orphanage they lived in was actually an old remodeled shrine. It had been in Iwate village for generations and generations, but after a fire had destroyed over half of the original building and nearly all its historical records, the newly rebuilt shrine was repurposed into a home for the unfortunate.

Atsushi thought that being forced to live there at all is what made them truly unfortunate, but he was never brave enough to voice that thought out loud to anyone other than Kyouka.

Their dining room was in what used to be part of the main sanctuary. The ceilings were arched and tall, and the windows that ran along the back wall let in a large amount of morning light that reflected off the white walls, illuminating the whole space. The screens were open slightly and Atsushi took a deep breath, trying to let the cool breeze slow his racing heart.

He made his way to his seat at the table, Kyouka sliding in across from him. Luckily, they had arrived before the director, and Atsushi breathed a small sigh of relief as he helped the other kids finish setting the table. There were only a total of 8 children living here, and they had their early morning duties down to a science. Atsushi had just finished straightening the last napkin when he heard the familiar creaking of the old wooden floors.

The director was by no means an intimidating man. He was middle aged, quite thin and wiry, with graying hair and an unassuming voice. What he lacked in physical prowess, however, he made up for with his devious mind and preference for cruelty. Atsushi had heard that quiet voice turn into a monstrous roar straight from his nightmares too many times to count. He still had the scars too.

His spine straightened automatically as the director entered. It was silent as he crossed from one side of the room to the other and took his seat at the head of the table. He was impeccably dressed as always, in a sleek black suit and tie.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, director,” they responded in unison

“I see we are all in attendance today,” he said quietly, his eyes glancing over at Atsushi. Atsushi didn’t move, but he heard one of the younger children snort and fail to cover it up with a cough. He tried looking at Kyouka, but her eyes were fixed on her plate.

“You may be seated.”

Since Atsushi was the eldest, his seat was right next to the director, and he felt the man’s eyes linger on him as he sat and began to prepare his plate. He served himself a minimal amount, already sensing the comments that would be made if he were to eat how much he really wanted. He forced himself to focus only on the bowl of rice Kyouka was passing to him. They locked eyes as the director began to speak again.

“Atsushi, it seems like you’ve recovered from your…episode…yesterday.”

“Yes sir,” Atsushi hesitated. He really didn’t know what else to say. He still wasn’t sure what exactly happened the day before either. As far as he knew, the only strange thing was the weird dream he had that night. He had no idea what Kyouka or the director was talking about.

Atsushi sent Kyouka his best pleading help me out look, but she only shoved a clump of rice in her mouth.

Traitor.

“Maintaining the physical well-being of your body should be one of your top priorities,” the director said, taking a slow sip from his cup. He didn’t say it outright, but his tone was dripping with disdain and disappointment. Atsushi watched him from the corner of his eye with baited breath as the cup was set gently back on the table. “Now is not the time for you to be causing such a scene.”

Of course, Atsushi thought, as he silently chewed his own food. Everything was about perception and reputation when it came to the director. As long as his personal image remained intact, it didn’t matter what else happened.

“I think it’s time you stopped spending all your evenings in the library.”

Atsushi’s heart dropped.

The director continued. “When you finish your duties with Fukuzawa after school you are to return, complete your evening chores, and go straight to your room.” He didn’t even bother to look at Atsushi as he said it. Atsushi couldn’t stop himself from speaking.

“For how long?”

The little library at the rear section of the shrine was Atsushi’s favorite, probably the only good thing about this place. It was small and quiet, and no one visited it or spent time there like he did. He’d read nearly every book there, no matter the genre. On some days, the library felt like Atsushsi’s only access to the rest of the world, the fluttering of its pages allowing the bars to widen ever so slightly on his cage.

Atsushi had a tendency to stay there well into the night, messing up his sleep schedule, but it’s never caused this big of an issue before. If he couldn’t visit the library anymore, it'd be one step closer to eternal solitary confinement.

The director raised his brow at Atsushi’s outburst, grip tightening almost imperceptibly on his silverware. Atsushi felt his heartbeat grow faster. “For as long as necessary. Besides,” he said with a sharpness, methodically cutting into his food, “you’re practically an adult now. It's time to stop wasting time on those foolish stories and begin applying yourself in the real world.”

He folded his napkin with a snap, dabbing at his face, eyes glinting as he came to a decision. Atsushi felt a chill run down his spine even before the director continued.

“In fact, as the campaign season comes to an end, you will help with the organization and re-election efforts. You start next week.”

Atsushi blinked, heart sinking as he registered the words. He would rather come straight home after school. He would rather actually be told to clean the chicken coop. He almost opened his mouth to argue again, but Kyouka’s fork mysteriously slipped out of her hand, clattering on her plate and snapping him back to reality. If he kept arguing it would only get worse.

“Yes sir.” he said through a clenched jaw.

Breakfast passed in a tense silence after that.

As if being a terrible headmaster wasn’t enough, the director was also the mayor of Iwate, up for re-election to a second term. He won his first term by using the fact that he ran an orphanage to pull at the heartstrings of the aging community. That led to an influx of pity votes and donations that pushed him over the finish line and into office. Atsushi had no concrete proof, but he knew all that donated money went right back into the directors own pockets rather than the orphanage or the town.

Now that it was time for another election, tensions at the shrine were at a suffocating all time high. Atsushi couldn't count how many times he’d been lectured about public image and how his actions reflected back on the mayor at all times. He felt like a horse having its reins pulled on all sides. Every day that passed, he had less and less freedom.

Atsushi had lost all his appetite and apathetically brought food up to his mouth. He forced himself to focus on chewing to keep himself from saying something else. When they were finally dismissed from school, he was the first one cleaned up and out the door.

_______

As the little group made their way out of the shrine and down the narrow stone steps of the shrine path, the morning sun began spilling over the mountainside, bringing the whole town into view and making every color shine like jewels. Summer leaves hung from trees like emerald drops. The waters of Iwate lake glittered like sapphires in the distance as the sunlight scattered diamonds across its surface. Even the houses that dotted the shoreline looked like tiny gemstones nestled in the ground.

It was perfect.

Atsushi couldn’t stand it.

Kyouka walked beside him as Atsushi stared at his feet in silence, all but petulantly stomping his way down the hill. For all its picturesque beauty, the town was full of a whole bunch of nothing, he thought, mourning the loss of his little freedoms.

He kicked a rock. The same things happen every day. Everybody knows everybody and knows what they do. No one says anything really about what anybody else does. Nothing changes. It’s like I’m in a time loop.

Atsushi wanted to yell, but seeing as he was in public and not even that far from the shrine, it wouldn't be long until word got back and something worse was added to his workload. He settled for a deep sigh through his nose.

His personal pity party came to an abrupt stop at the sound of someone calling out his name.

“Atsushi! Kyouka! Wait up!”

The pair stopped and turned, and were promptly blinded by the small ray of sunshine coming up the lane behind them. He was short, with a head full of golden hair and wearing a large straw hat with his school uniform. He caught up to them quickly, looking more like a happy deer frolicking in a field than a boy on his way to school.

“Hi Kenji,” Kyouka greeted him as Kenji looped his arms through the both of theirs.

“It sure is a wonderful morning, ain’t it?”

Atsushi took a deep breath and let his shoulders relax as Kenji and Kyouka began chattering away. He liked Kenji, and found it was a lot harder to stay mad when he was around. Kenji and Kyouka both attended the tiny Iwate Middle school together, and it was part of their daily routine to all walk with each other in the mornings.

Kenji was updating them on the recovery of one of his family's cows when he turned to look up at Atsushi.

“Oh! I almost forgot!”

He brought them all to a stop, unlinked their arms, and turned to dig around in his faded school bag. After a moment, he turned and presented Atsushi with a small thermos cup.

“Here! It’s the soup I promised you yesterday.” He took Atsushi’s hand and wrapped it around the cup for him, holding them both there as continued talking. “It's my great, great, great grandmother's home remedy! It can cure just about anything, so make sure you drink the whole container at lunch today and you’ll be right as rain!”

“Uhhh, thanks?” Atsushi answered eloquently as Kenji beamed up at him. He looked down at the thermos, completely confused. He was about to politely ask why he was promised soup, but Kyouka beat him to speaking.

“You still don’t remember, do you?”

He turned to her, brows drawn. “Remember what?”

“What happened yesterday?”

Oh, that's right. Atsushi had completely forgotten what happened when he had woken up this morning. He and Kyouka never got to finish their conversation before breakfast.

“Did you really forget?” Kenji asked with wide eyes. “You were in a downright rotten mood yesterday. Your uniform was all messed up, you kept forgetting where you were or where you were going, and you had a terrible scowl every time I saw you.”

“What?!”

Atsushi tried to imagine it. He always made sure he was dressed somewhat appropriately before he left his room. It made him sweat just to think about coming downstairs and giving the director an excuse to punish him. And as often as Atsushi was in a bad mood, he rarely let it show, especially ray-of-sunshine Kenji of all people.

He shook his head. “There's no way that actually happened.” Kyouka must be playing a silly joke on him, and got Kenji to join in.

“You probably gave yourself temporary amnesia or a concussion when you passed out and hit the floor,” Kyouka said with a very serious expression.

“That's why I brought you the soup.” Kenji added helpfully.

Atsushi threw his hands up. “I don’t even remember passing out!” He started walking down the road again. None of this made sense. Passing out? Not knowing his way around the town he’s never left and that’s never changed? Yeah, they must definitely be playing some kind of prank.

Kenji skipped up beside him. “My grandfather says that soup can cure all the ailments of the mind. His momma fed it to him every night for a month as a child and he had the sharpest memory of our whole family.”

“Thanks, but I don’t have amnesia,” Atsushi said grumpily. Any other day this would have been funny, but not today. He couldn’t bring himself to be mean to Kenji anyways.

“Well, drink the soup and see if it helps,” Kyouka said, patting his shoulder gently. “It won’t hurt to try.”

Atsushi nodded absentmindedly. He knew without even opening it that the soup would be delicious regardless of any healing abilities. And it would probably be the best lunch he would have this week.

“You also promised me crepes yesterday, so if it does work, try and remember that part,” she added sweetly.

Atsushi stopped in his tracks and turned to his sister with skeptical eyes. “Is that what this is? A whole scheme to get me to buy you snacks?” Kyouka had done things like this before, using her cute puppy face to persuade him to buy her things, but nothing to this level.

“I swear you did. Because I covered for you at breakfast yesterday.” Kyouka blinked up at him with innocent eyes.

“We’ll see,” was all Atsushi said. The trio had winded their way down around the final curve before their school, and Atsushi parted ways with them with a wave. He waited until they both turned to keep walking, letting his shoulders droop with every step.

He examined the container of soup in his hands. Atsushi only got more and more confused. Kenji really was too kind to play a trick like this, and as much as Atsushi wanted to believe this was just something Kyouka put him up to, it just didn’t seem right. He still had no clue what she had said about yesterday, and he couldn’t find a way to prove to himself that nothing happened.

Atsushi trekked along the road towards the high school, dreading the day. As if to rub it in his face, he passed perfectly created campaign posters pasted to the old cobblestone walls of small stores. Atsushi refused to look at them, determined to avoid the imitation director's gaze. He knew it would be hell being forced to work on the campaign team, and Atsushi dreaded being scrutinized and squashed into the ‘perfect product’ of the orphanage.

One more year, he told himself.

One more year, a little less actually, until he graduated highschool and could leave that place forever. He didn’t know where he would be able to go, but in his dreams, he went far.

Atsushi was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear anything behind him until a hand clasped his shoulder, and familiar laughter drew him from his mind.

“Well hey there, stranger.”

It was Naomi, Atsushi’s friend and classmate, followed closely behind by her brother, Junichiro. She looked like she was in a good mood, bright smile, perfect uniform, silky black hair dancing in the breeze like a movie scene.

“Hey Naomi.”

Atsushi liked her. She was kind, and blunt when she needed to be. He also thought she looked like what he thought Kyouka would look like when she got older.

She smiled, blue eyes matching the sky. “Did you wake up on the right side of the bed today?”

“Did you ask Fukuzawa to exorcise whatever demon took you over?” Junichiro asked to his left.

Junichiro looked a little less put together than his sister, his uniform slightly askew and signature red jacket around his waist. His copper hair looked like it was on fire in the morning sun, and the ear piercing he refused to take out despite the school rules glinted in the light. He was the person Atsushi was closest to other than Kyouka.

“Morning,” Atsushi greeted him with a fist bump, “and…what? Demon?”

“Yeah man,” Junichiro chuckled as they passed through the school's front gate, “you were a little scary yesterday. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you scowl that much in my life. What happened?”

Atsushi stared at him in disbelief, and then threw his hands up in the air for the second time that morning. “I really wish I knew! Kyouka and Kenji and the director all said I was acting weird yesterday, but somehow I can't remember any of it!”

He said all of that a bit louder and more forcefully than he meant to, and Atsushi saw other students up ahead of them turn to glance back at him. Naomi and Junichiro both had concerned looks. He drug his hands down his face, trying and failing to suppress a frustrated groan.

Seeing his response, Junichiro automatically switched to what Atsushi liked to call “big brother mode.” He looked Atsushi up and down, probably trying to see if he was joking or not. When he determined Atsushi was actually upset, his demeanor changed from its earlier playfulness.

“Was the director angry with you?”

Hands still on his face, Atsushi pushed the heel of his palm into his eyes until he saw stars. The three of them had been friends for as long as he could remember, and while the siblings knew that the director was not a good man, Atsushi had spared them most of the worst details. They knew how Atsushi felt about him, and that was really the most important part. Atsushi didn’t want to bog them down with every negative thing that happened.

He removed his hands from his face, blinking away the stars. “Nah, it was more the usual disappointment.” They were almost to the school doors, and Atsushi lowered his voice slightly as they merged with the crowd of students. “All he did was give me a curfew and a few extra chores.”

More like free labor, he thought to himself as they all ascended the stairs. I think I could be classified as an indentured servant.

Naomi gave him a steady glance that made Atsushi feel like a dissected bug. “Well, that's not too terrible,” was all she said. She most definitely knew it was worse than Atsushi was letting on, but she wouldn’t say anything until Atsushi did. He liked that about her.

“I’m fine,” Atsushi added, to reassure who, he didn't know. He just hoped he sounded convincing.

“If it makes you feel better I can give Junichiro a bunch of extra chores at home!” Her eyes lit up devilishly. “That way you won’t be the only one working after school.”

“Why are you bringing me into this?” Junichiro whirled on her. “N-not that I don’t want to provide you with some brotherly solidarity,” he added, with a sorry look at Atsushi, “but what is there for me to do even around the house?”

Naomi tilted her head with a pout. Atsushi felt a shiver go up his spine that this conversation was about to go somewhere he did not want to be around to hear.

“Nope! I can do it all by myself!” he squeaked, and slipped past them and into the classroom.

_______

The school day passed by torturously slow, each second just crawling by. Atsushi found himself zoning out through most of his classes, his mind clouded with questions his memory could not answer.

He felt like everyone had been staring at him. Atsushi normally tried to make himself as invisible as possible. But on top of being the mayor's adopted son, he was just unfortunately and naturally awkward, which drew a lot of eyes to him. Atsushi felt like his classmates' attention was laser-focused on him today though. At each transition, he tried to make himself look as busy and unaffected by the gazing as possible.

He sat at his desk by the window now, watching as the noon-day sun shone lazily over the valley. Atsushi gave up trying to pay attention by the second period, and was running through his past events for what felt like the thirtieth time. He came up with nothing. He even ate all of Kenji’s soup at lunch, (which was as delicious as he thought it would be) but other than a full stomach, it didn’t help with anything else.

Atsushi lightly tapped his finger on his desk mindlessly. He watched the boats on the lake's surface. A few cars winding down the streets. The wind tugging clouds through the sky. The tapping of his fingers was slowly overlapped by the sound of chalk on the blackboard.

“Twilight is in the evening, not quite day or night. It is the hour when every line blurs, making it difficult to tell what the true time is”

Atsushi drew his eyes from the window to the front of the room. Their teacher had written a line from a poem he was supposed to be paying attention to on the board, and had circled the character for twilight.

“It is also believed to be a window when you might meet something that isn’t quite human.”

Atsushi’s interest was piqued. He always had a love for fantasy and otherworldly stories, and although the topic of poetry was somewhat boring to him, he liked the concept of a magical hour. He stopped his tapping and flipped open his notebook, flicking through scattered pages of notes until he got to what should've been the next empty page.

Something strange caught his eye.

Written across the page, in handwriting that did not belong to him, was a question.

Who are you?

.
.
.

Huh?

Atsushi closed the notebook and checked the front cover. Did he grab someone elses’ on accident? He was met with the familiar worn blue cover. Definitely mine. He flipped back open to that page and examined the handwriting again. Atsushi’s own handwriting was not sloppy, but it wasn't as crisp as what was in front of him. The characters were elegant and neat, and not at all cramped and rushed in the way Atsushi’s looked.

He glanced around at the class to see if anyone was looking at him. Atsushi had been the target of several pranks over the years, and looked to the usual main offenders, but they were paying attention to the lesson or off in their own world, not worrying a lick about what Atsushi was doing. Strange. He looked at Junichiro beside him, but he was dutifully taking notes.

Atsushi flipped back a page, and was shocked to see more of that handwriting. He blinked and realized with a start that they were actual notes. Who the hell would steal my notebook and actually take notes? Atsushi ran his eyes over the page, and alongside the notes he found more questions like the first one he found.

Where am I?

What is this?

He was completely dumbfounded. If it was a prank, he couldn’t understand it. Atsushi flipped back and forth through the pages before it, trying to find any other information. His eyes caught at the top of the page and a chill ran down his spine.

It was the date.

Yesterday's date.

Atsushi was caught so off guard by this information that he didn't realize someone was calling his name.

“..ima? Please read the next line, Mr. Nakajima.”

He shot right up out of his seat. “Oh! Uh, right!”

There were a few scattered giggles around the room as Atsushi grabbed his book that he had luckily left open.

“Glad to have you back with us today,” the teacher said with a small smile.

Atsushi blinked in confusion as the snickers continued quietly. He glanced at Junichiro, who only subtly pointed to the line he was supposed to read. After a brief pause, Atsushi began stumbling through the verse, wondering, not for the last time, what the hell was going on.

Chapter Text

“You mean you seriously don’t remember anything?”

Atsushi took a deep breath to keep himself from yelling at Junichiro. “...Nope.”

“None of it?”

“None of it.”

The three of them were resting in a shaded area just outside the school grounds, bags and jackets and snacks spread out on the grass around them. They were side by side, shoulders touching, heads pillowed on Junichiro’s red jacket. Fluffy white clouds floated lazily above them as they all tried to solve the case of Atsushi’s missing memories in their free time before work.

Atsushi had made it through the school day with only a few more odd glances than normal. Now that the day had ended, the Tanizaki siblings were questioning him more intensely that morning. Despite his attempts to remember, and the…questionable… effects of Kenji’s delicious soup, Atsushi was still drawing blanks. He stared up at the leaves against the endless blue sky, hoping he could find an answer.

“Do you remember anything weird before you went to sleep last night?” Naomi asked.

“Only that it was the same as every night before it.”

“Did you eat anything different?”

“Can food poisoning even cause amnesia?” Atsushi asked, somewhat following the line of thought.

“It might explain the bad mood at least,” Junichiro added. “You looked like you could've been sick.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t help us explain anything else.”

“I still think you were possessed.”

Atsushi smacked him lightly upside the head. “I’m not possessed.”

Junichiro only laughed, propping himself up to look down at Atsushi beside him. “It wouldn’t hurt to test it.”

“How would you even test that?!”

“Lure you into the middle of nowhere, under the light of a full moon, read some ancient text until the beast inside you emerges,” he said dramatically, wiggling his fingers over Atsushi’s face.

Atsushi smacked him again.

“I’m not possessed.”

The siblings burst into giggles, and Atsushi shook his head.

“Maybe the shrine’s haunted,” Naomi said, with a playful smile.

“Please don’t say that.” Atsushi twisted to face her.

She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Maybe you’re being haunted by a ghost and possessed by their spirit!”

He stared at Naomi, and was sure that she could see the hint of fear in his face. Atsushi wouldn’t say he really believed in ghosts, but it was a really old shrine, and he couldn’t lie that he’d seen some suspicious and inexplicable activity that he forced himself to ignore.

He blinked, remembering the strange handwriting in his notebook. Could it be possible that…

Atsushi caught himself. “No! Nope!” He sat all the way up, waving his hands in the air as Naomi and Junichiro made exaggerated ghost noises beside him. “I’m not possessed, I’m not haunted, and you two suck!”

He gathered his things and stood up, looking down at the pair, who were laughing shamelessly at his plight. “Whatever. I’m going in early.”

Atsushi turned with a dramatic huff and set off walking into town, Naomi and Junichiro’s laughter following behind him.

“Okay, okay,” Naomi said breathlessly, jogging with her brother to catch up. “You’re not possessed, you’re not haunted…” she put her fingers to her lips, deep in thought. Atsushi was a little afraid of what she'd come up with this time.

Her eyes sparkled, and she tilted her head deviously. “Maaybee…” she drew out the word dramatically, “It has to do with the comet coming up next month!”

“Ok now that makes no sense.” Atsushi said, shaking his head. He could get behind possession or haunting, but how could a comet affect him? He was most likely going to have to accept the fact that this town was slowly driving him crazy. That seemed to be the only reasonable option.

Naomi and Junichiro continued to come up with more and more outlandish theories as they walked. Atsushi listened to them half heartedly, his interest piqued by the mention of the upcoming comet sighting. There has been talk and announcements almost everyday for a month now. Comet Tiamat. A rare sight that only appears once every 1200 years. It would be visible to the naked eye all across Japan, and Iwate was predicted to get a completely unobstructed view.

Atsushi had to admit he was excited. The comet was supposed to be the brightest during Iwate’s Autumn Festival, and the whole town would be outside to witness it in all its cosmic glory. The last time something like this happened, the older kids at the orphanage at the time had locked Atsushi in a cupboard, and the Director hadn’t bothered to let him out until the eclipse had already passed. He was determined to witness this one with his own eyes.

The three of them had been helping begin setting up for the Autumn festival this past week. That was what Atsushi had been helping with during all his volunteer time with Fukuzawa. He was certain that if he was asked to assist on the day of the festival, the Director had no good reason to not let Atsushi do it.

Iwate was a miniscule dot on the map. There were no bookstores or shopping centers, no fancy restaurants or fast food places. There is only one train that comes by every 3 hours, buses that come only twice a day. As the three of them walked towards the town center, they passed grassy fields and worn, lived-in homes. The afternoon sun made the apparent emptiness somehow feel warm and comforting.

Since Iwate was so small, many of the municipal offices worked out of only a few buildings. They were at the center of town and overlooked the shores of Iwate lake. After school, all three of them helped out in various departments of the museum. As part time students, the pay was minimal, and most of it was considered volunteer work, but Atsushi liked it.

The museum was set off to the side of the other buildings, almost completely hidden behind them through the trees. As they passed through the sunlit courtyard, Atsushi glanced over at the town hall. It was one of the more modern buildings, its brick coloring and undecorated exterior making it feel as lifeless outside and the people were inside.

The Director conducted all his mayoral business from the town hall, so Atsushi always pettily walked on the furthest side of the courtyard when passing it.

Atsushi averted his gaze from the main building as they approached the steps to the museum. It was a large, traditional structure that still lacked many modern amenities. Stepping through its doorways felt like stepping back in time. Atsushi was greeted by the scents of old wood and aged paper, and the thick silence that permeated the area.

“Well,” Naomi started, dropping her school bag under her station at the receptionist desk, “hopefully you remember whatever happened to you yesterday.” She sat delicately in her seat. “If not, you can always check the records and see if anyone died in the old shrine.” she added with a wink.

Atsushi breezed past her. “I will absolutely not be doing that.”

Her sweet laughter followed him down the quiet hall.

_____________________________

“This one is turning out so lumpy and I don’t know what I did wrong.” Atsushi despaired.

The small workroom where Atsushi sat was filled with the gentle clacking of old wooden weights, a puddle of dark blue thread flowing off the small loom and flooding around him. Junichiro sat to his side, braiding a silvery green cord that looked smooth and even the whole way down.

“Your mind must be elsewhere,” a deep voice said.

Atsushi looked across the work space to Mr. Fukuzawa, the head of the museum, who had his own round loom in front of him, a flawless maroon cord taking shape in his hands. He was a middle aged man, with silver hair and the slightest bit of age on his face. From what Atsushi had heard, Fukuzawa essentially created the museum and archives on his own, claiming it was to preserve the history and mysteries of Iwate. Atsushi didn’t quite understand the motivation behind it, but he respected the man a great deal.

Due to his no-nonsense attitude and intense nature, he had been dubbed ‘The President’ by the younger volunteers. From his clothes to his posture to the cord he himself was weaving, everything about him radiated a kind of grace that came with years of dedication and skill.

“I mean, I might be a little distracted,” Atsushi admitted, “but it's just a repeated motion. I don’t get how my cord could get this…wavy.” he sighed down at the cord he’d been braiding. It looked more like a flowing river than an even band.

The three of them were braiding traditional cords for the Autumn Festival. Each was made of thin, colored threads woven together to create a single strand. It was an old tradition of Iwate, and the finished cords were given as gifts, said to tie people together. Most of the cords could have multiple colors or designs, but Atsushi’s was only a dark, night time blue.

Junichiro raised his brows a little bit, and nudged Atsushi playfully with his shoulder. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Atsushi glared at him, knowing what he wanted him to ask. “Nothing. School is getting busy.”

“You need to find a way to calm your mind once you leave the school,” Fukuzawa continued, either unaware or ignoring the silent conversation Atsushi and Junichiro were having. “Weaving the threads back and forth like this, the tension in your mind and body can affect the tension in the threads, making it ‘wavy,’ as you said.”

It’s easier said than done, he thought. School wasn’t actually that big of an issue, but Atsushi was dreading going back to the orphanage tonight. He dreaded being around the director even more now that the elections were coming up. Not to mention whatever the hell happened yesterday. Atsushi was starting to genuinely believe he would go mad before long.

“Don’t some people believe that emotions can be woven into the cords?” Junichiro asked.

Fukuzawa’s brows furrowed slightly. “It is an old sentimental belief, due to the fact that the cords are given as gifts to family members or loved ones. There is no traditional or historic record of that being the case, however.” His own hands were steadily passing over one another, the silver and maroon of his own cord growing before their eyes. Fukuzawa was above all things a very practical man, and although he strove to keep tradition and history alive, he was very skeptical of old religious beliefs. “The true meaning behind the practice was lost when the original shrine burned down.”

I wish the new one would burn down too, Atsushi thought as he continued to braid, trying to be gentler than before.

Atsushi saw Junichiro’s hands still and felt his eyes on him and could feel the smile on Junichiro's face before he even looked up and asked his next question.

“Did anyone die in the fire?”

“Why does that matter?” Atsushi shot back. The last thing he needed was to know if someone actually did die in the shrine. He would have nightmares for weeks, regardless of if he was actually haunted or not.

Fukuzawa glanced up at the pair, his hands continuing to move. His brow raised like he also wanted to ask why, but he continued answering in spite of Atsushi’s silent and internal plea.

“From what we know, no one perished in the fire, but the Soseki family in charge of the shrine ended up leaving Iwate and never returned. Due to the mountains surrounding the town, the shrine was quite isolated at the time, and many of the residents were not interested in a purely Shinto tradition any longer.”

His words had a steady rhythm to them, and Atsushi found himself nodding along as Fukuzawa continued to narrate. He relaxed slightly knowing there was at least no confirmed ghost in the shrine, and hoped it was enough to keep him from having nightmares tonight. He twisted and turned the yarn in his hands to the timing of Fukuzawa’s words, letting their pace guide his hands. By the time he finished speaking, the second half of Atsushi’s cord was much more even than the first. He secured the end quickly, and severing it from the spool of yarn, removed it from the loom entirely.

“I guess I’ll keep this one for myself,” he said, examining it. “I’m sure it would make a bad gift.”

“It is a learned skill,” Fukuzawa assured him. “You will get better with time.”

Atsushi nodded as he tucked the warped blue threads into his bag, planning to find a purpose for it later. He turned his head up to the old clock on the wall, heart sinking to find it was barely 5:30. Fukuzawa instructed them that they were free to leave today after finishing the last number of cords for the festival. Atsushi was sure it had taken them longer than that. He was nowhere near ready to return now.

He took his time packing up his bag, eyes darting around the room for an excuse to stay. Thankfully after clearing away his own items, Fukuzawa chose this moment to intervene.

“If you have other obligations this evening, you two are free to leave. There is not much else we need to do for the Autumn festival until the date gets closer. If you’d like to stay, Mr. Taguchi donated a box of his late father’s belongings that need to be catalogued.”

He didn’t look at Atsushi as he spoke, but Atsushi knew it was an invitation for him all the same.

“I’ll help!”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got to call it a night,” Junichiro said, packing up his bag. “I promised Naomi I’d bake after dinner and gotta pick a few things up.”

“Oooh, if it's that chocolate cake, save me some.”

“If there’s any left,” he said with a laugh. They shared a fistbump and then Atsushi was alone again. He took his time wrapping up the yarn and storing the loom, hoping the seconds would drag on forever. With the room clean and no time left to kill, he grabbed his bag and headed to the archive room.

______________________

Calling this place an ‘archive’ was a bit of a stretch. It was more a storage room that had been converted to a makeshift archive, with a series of added shelves and cardboard boxes that were all hand sorted and labeled. It was a cramped space, but Atsushi was basically a pro at tucking himself away in quiet corners.

He liked the archive. Atsushi found a strange sense of comfort in the smell of old paper, the documents and materials that were worn from use and being held and passed and traded. Sorting through the items was like looking through a window into the past. Atsushi often wondered how each person felt. Did they like Iwate? Or were they like him, straining at the leash to get away.

Most of their inventory was personal records donated by the families of Iwate. Marriage records, land deeds, wills and old letters. For the living residents, everything was filed with the administrative building. Everything else was handed over to the archives. Atsushi easily spotted the donated box amongst the old record storage, and settled onto the floor to sort through it all.

From what he heard, the old Mr. Taguchi was a police officer who had gotten caught in a big city terrorist attack. They caught the guy, but Taguchi didn’t make it back out. His son returned to Iwate and was taken in by one of the new math teachers. Atsushi never quite heard all the details, but he knew the boy was younger than him.

The majority of the files in the box were what was expected. A few old family records, some letters, a few marriage requests. Atsushi read through them mindlessly, tagging and sorting and placing them in folders. He was on his third 100 year old business transaction of wheat for a cow when the corner of a booklet in the bottom of the box caught his eye.

Atsushi gently removed everything on top of it, slipping the old manuscript out. It looked and smelled old, the threads binding the pages old and frayed. The cover might have been blue once, but now it was worn and gray. Atsushi lifted it closer to read the traditional, faded characters.

The Twenty Eight Mansions

Never heard that before. Atsushi gently flipped open the pages, careful to not tear the old paper. The inside was inscribed with old drawings of star charts, so faded he almost didn’t realize what they were. He turned a few more pages, eyes skimming over the faded words.

From the days of old, the celestial realm has long been revered as the proclaimer of destiny. The heavens above have reflected the events on earth. The sons of heaven were bestowed the right to rule, and through the starry realm could divine the will of the heavens.

Huh, Atsushi thought to himself. So it must be an old divination book. From the sounds of it, it was probably Chinese history as well. The characters were traditional and faded, but Atsushi could still understand most of their meaning.

He glanced back at the box again, wondering how this book ended up in there. There wasn’t even anything else remotely similar to it, and Atsushi wasn’t even sure what he would sort it as. His eyes dropped back down to the still open pages.

Displeasure cast the world in darkness as dragons were sent to devour the sun. Stars falling from the sky promised unexpected and perilous tribulations. As the moon rises and falls, so does the will of heaven and the rule of man.

Atsushi chuckled quietly to himself, thinking about the arrival of the comet Tiamat. Did it signal a perilous event over 1000 years ago? If it did, it certainly wouldn’t have been here, where nothing ever really happens. And with the way things were, he was certain nothing ever would happen.

He skimmed through a few more pages before looking up at the small digital clock by the door. There wasn’t much time left before Atsushi had to leave. He glanced at the clock, the almost empty donation box, and the interesting new book in his hands.

Well, he thought. I’m not allowed to visit the library tonight, so I might as well read it while I can.

Atsushi gathered all the records and placed them back in the box. He could finish sorting them the next time he came in. He curled back up with the book in his lap and delicately examined each page. Most of it was in that old faded writing, with constellations and legends occasionally decorating the page. He would have to ask Fukuzawa more about it later.

He sat there reading up until the last second, when he knew he would get himself in more trouble if he didn’t get up and leave. As he was trudging his way back to the orphanage, Atsushi stopped where the trees gave way and he could see the endless sky. The orange glow of the sunset was fading into a twilight blue, and he could see the first few stars beginning to shine.

Atsushi had laughed at it earlier, but as he continued his way up the old shrine steps and into that cold building he refused to call home, he wished for his own cosmic destiny. For the moon or stars to shine down and show him the way out of this place.

Falling stars and swirling constellations illuminated his dreams as he tucked himself into sleep.

Chapter Text

For the second day in a row, Atsushi regained consciousness with the overwhelming sense that something was not quite right. A gentle, quiet beeping sound was his first clue.

His alarm was wrong.

There were many consistencies in Atsushi’s life, often caused by the restrictions of his upbringing. One of them was his old black alarm clock, one of the only electronic devices he was allowed to keep in the orphanage. It had two different volume settings and only one continuous, shrill ring.

Atsushi normally made sure it was set every night, and was especially certain he checked it last night, afraid to repeat the last two days of tardiness. The sound coming from beside his futon, however, was completely unfamiliar to him. It was still dark though, so he blearily groped around with his arm to find whatever was making the noise.

It could be one of the other kids playing a trick on me, he thought. It had happened before, and Atsushi was already an easy target after his outburst at breakfast yesterday. With the director's eyes locked on to him, he was basically wide open and defenseless.

Unable to find the source, Atsushi reached further, rolling to stretch his arm all the way out. The tips of his fingers had just brushed something hard and plastic when his weight shifted too far, and he slipped off the futon with a loud thud. A dull pain bloomed across his shoulder.

Huh? The ground should not be that far away?

Atsushi’s eyes snapped open, shocked at his sudden fall. More shocking was that the room around him was not his room at all.

What the hell?

Atsushi sat up, eyes darting around wildly as he tried to make sense of where he was. The floor beneath him was no longer old tatami, but a thin grey carpet. The walls were no longer old planks, but smooth and gray, and the large wide window he was so used to had apparently shrunk down to one small opening. There was a bed next to him, and blue sheets cascaded off the mattress and pooled around Atsushi’s form where he lay on the floor.

What the hell?!

Atsushi kept blinking and rubbing his face, hoping that the room would fix itself and he would be in his own bed. His chest tightened as his breaths started coming out in short, painful wheezes. He tried to scramble forwards and pull himself up, but he slid back down to his knees as he was taken over by a series of dry, painful coughs.

Atsushi’s throat and chest were burning.

He clutched the front of his shirt as he looked around the room for something, anything, to ease the pressure on his chest. There was a desk in front of him, covered in neatly stacked workbooks and pencils and papers. He whipped his head to the side, and saw a black drawer set with nothing on top of it. His chest wracked with coughs again as he turned to look at the bed behind him. There, on the nightstand, a half full glass of water.

Atsushi dove for it, gulping it down like he had been stranded in the desert for days. It was cool against his throat, and he was able to slowly catch his breath, the burning receding, but not disappearing entirely. He gripped the empty glass and tried to control his breathing, head running through all the possibilities of where on earth he could have been.

Maybe I fell asleep at the museum and Mr. Fukuzawa brought me to his place? No, I remember walking home. Did the other kids drag me out somewhere? Kyouka would have stopped them. Probably. Did someone kidnap me? Why does it feel like I’ve been poisoned? My chest still hurts. Is this a dream?

His train of thoughts crashed when he heard the sound of that gentle beeping again. Atsushi turned and saw that, next to where he found the glass of water on the nightstand, there was a sleek black phone.

The screen was lit up, and Atsushi realized that the sound was an alarm, and by the looks of it, it had been going off for a few hours. It was almost noon. He reached out with a shaky hand to tap the snooze button, and noticed with a shock that his hands were… pale. Really pale. Pale in a way that looked…wrong.

The glass in his hand clattered down to the floor as Atsushi raised his hands out in front of him, flipping and turning them over and over again. They were pale and bony, thin fingers extending from porcelain palms with blue veins running faintly through them. For half a second, Atsushi was stunned. They were beautiful, but most definitely not his.

A new sense of panic swelled up in Atsushi’s chest as he looked down at himself for the first time since waking up. He was wearing black sweatpants and a long sleeve black shirt. The fabric was soft and warm and wholly unfamiliar to Atsushi. He could tell even through the fabric that he was smaller, or at least thinner, than normal, the clothes hanging from his form.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, Atsushi stumbled through the room to the door across from the bed. It opened with a click, and he poked his head out slowly into a long hallway. To his left he could see it lead into what looked like a living room, and to his right there were two doors. One of them was open slightly and he could see the edges of a bathroom sink.

Atsushi padded through the unfamiliar hallway towards it, tripping up over unfamiliar legs. He fumbled for the light switch as his hands gripped the cold porcelain edge. Light flooded the small space, and Atsushi stopped breathing entirely as he looked at the person in the mirror.

The person was pale, with dark black hair framing their face. It was thin and smooth, nothing like Atsushi’s unruly mess. It fell down lightly, brushing the tops of the person's shoulders. The dark hair framed even darker eyes. They were an inky color, so dark that Atsushi couldn’t tell where the pupil and iris began or ended.

Atsushi blinked.

The figure in the mirror blinked.

Atsushi lifted a hand.

The person lifted the same hand at the same time.

Atsushi brought the hand in front of his face. He stared at the thin fingers again as if they were something alien. He opened and closed them slowly. The figure in the mirror did the same.

The last thing Atsushi felt was the cold of the bathroom tile against his face before the world went dark once more.

_____________________________

The beeping of the phone woke him up again.

Atsushi was still laying on the bathroom floor, the coldness of the tiles seeping through his clothes down to his bones. The sound was different. It wasn’t the continuous rhythm of an alarm, but an inconsistent yet repeated dinging.

He numbly got up and dragged his feet towards the hallway. He didn’t look in the mirror again as he left the bathroom, afraid to confront whoever he saw in there. Atsushi’s thoughts spiraled as he made his way back to the bedroom he first woke up in.

This is just a nightmare. Like a really bad, really realistic nightmare. But it’s fine, he told himself. I’ll just wake up and it will be totally fine.

He crossed over to the nightstand where the phone still rested, and picked it up. The screen lit up as he tapped it, and a series of messages and calls popped up on the screen.

8:03
Gin: text me when you join the world of the living

8:37
Gin: I know I said I’d let you sleep in, but don’t overdo it. Try to be here by the second period at least

9:12
Gin: Its second, where are you
Gin: Are you even awake yet?

10:00
Tachihara (Do Not Respond): Hey man you alright?

10:17
Gin: If you don’t respond i'm coming to get you
Gin: Or calling the police
Gin: Or ambulance, whichever is faster

11:23
Missed Call

11:28
Higuchi (Do Not Respond): Good morning senpai! I hope you are feeling better today! If you need anything or want me to pick up anything from the pharmacy, please do not hesitate to ask!

11:36
Missed Call

11:38
Gin: I'm coming home
Gin: if I get there and you're dead, ill kill you

11:46
Missed Call

Atsushi checked the timestamps again and realized he just missed the last call. He tapped the screen again and tried unlocking and opening the phone, but he was blocked by the phone asking for a passcode that Atsushi definitely didn't know.

He was wondering how my attempts he had before the phone would lock him out when his ear picked up on the jingle of keys in a lock. His head snapped towards the bedroom door and he heard a door open and a voice call out.

“Ryunosuke? You better be awake and alive right now!”

Ryunosuke.

Is that me? Atsushi paused. Is that this guy’s name?

He took a few hesitant steps out of the bedroom, still holding the phone in his hands. The person who entered the apartment was a girl, who looked like she might have been Atsushi’s age. She was a little bit shorter than he was now, with midnight black hair pulled up in a spiky style Atsushi had only ever seen on tv. She was wearing a white mask over most of her face, but the dark eyes that locked onto Atsushi’s figure as he appeared in the hallway looked identical to what he had just seen in the mirror.

“Would it kill you to answer your phone?” She said, throwing her bag down onto the floor and walking right up to where he stood, eyes running over his figure. In spite of her stature and thin frame, she had an intimidating aura about her that almost had Atsushi cowering away.

So this is Gin. “Sorry” he said instinctively. “I just woke up. I didn’t see your messages.”

He was shocked at the sound of his own voice. It was low and had a painful rasp to it. Atsushi had to take a deep breath through his nose to keep himself from dissolving into a coughing fit again.

The girl sighed and shook her head. “I shouldn’t have let you sleep in.” She raised her hand and moved closer to Atsushi, who stood still like a deer in headlights. Her fingers came up to rest on his forehead, the annoyance in her expression fading into concern.

“Are you still feverish? I told you we should have gone to the doctor yesterday.”

Atsushi realized with a start that this person must be this guy’s sister. There was a look in her eyes that he recognized immediately. She was looking at him the same way Kyouka did when he did something stupid or got himself hurt.

“I’m fine,” Atsushi croaked out.

“You always say that, and yet you look like shit.” Her hand dropped to her hip.

Atsushi really wasn’t sure what to say next so he just stared blankly and waited to see what she’d do. They stared at each other in a silent battle until she seemed to relent and started walking back to the kitchen.

“Well, now I know you’re alive, you can at least make it for the last half of the school day. Get dressed, I’ll put together something for lunch.”

Atsushi remained standing dumbfounded in the hall.

What the hell what the hell what the hell! This has got to be a dream but it feels too real. Way too real!

He turned back to the room he awoke in and hit the light switch so he could properly take in his surroundings. The room wasn’t completely bare, but other than the furniture it was sparsely decorated. Atsushi opened the closet and was met with a sea of black clothing. He easily found a white and green uniform that was similar to the one Gin was wearing and quickly struggled into it. He saw that a school bag was slung over the back of the desk chair, and grabbed it as he left the room.

When he reemerged and shuffled down to the kitchen, he was greeted with a bowl of yogurt that had an assortment of fruits and oats in it.

“Here,” Gin said. “Eat at least half of it.”

Atsushi was stunned. Food, or lack thereof, was often used as a bargaining chip in the orphanage. He had rarely been offered food so freely. It was usually only Kyouka or one of the Tanizakis that would share food with him. He grabbed the bowl slowly, bringing it closer to examine it.

In the time it took for Gin to grab her bag and slip her shoes back on, Atsushi ate nearly the entire cup. It was sweet, and the fruit pieces inside were even sweeter. For the first time since waking up, Atsushi felt himself relax a little bit.

Whether this is a dream or not, she really cares about her brother. And the food is nice. I've never been able to taste food in my dreams before. I guess I can follow along.

He felt Gin’s eyes on him as he disposed of the now empty cup and put his own shoes on by the doorway. Atsushi wondered how long the dream would last as he turned to follow her out of the apartment. The knob turned. The door swung open.

Atsushi froze.

They were standing on a breezeway on the outside of the apartment building, a few stories up. The building itself must be on a hill because spread out beneath Atsushi was one of the most breathtaking places he’s ever seen.

The sky above them was a gorgeous blue, with streaks of white clouds running through it like feathers. Directly below them was a swath of greenery surrounding a small park. Atsushi could see people dotted along the flowery paths and resting beneath the shade of windswept trees. Rising up from the forested ground to meet the endless blue between them was a dazzling rainbow of buildings. More skyscrapers than Atsushi had ever seen in his life, each one of them a wall of windows that reflected a myriad of colors across the horizon. Peering through the spires, far in the distance, he could see the sparkling sunlight reflecting off the sea. Atsushi could see ships floating in the waters, and along the streets lines and lines of cars flowed along with the traffic.

Atsushi was surprised to find that he recognized some of the buildings, and even the port by the water. He had seen them at school, on the news, in the few travel magazines that made it all the way out to his little home in the middle of nowhere.

“Yokohama.” He murmured.

He was in Yokohama. Right outside of Tokyo. Atsushi blinked. The scenery before him didn’t change. He was really here, all the way across the country. He took in a shaky breath, amazed at how much better this dream had gotten.

Noticing his pause and shuddered breathing, Gin stopped and turned to look back at where he still stood. There was a pause and then a short rustling, and then a piece of black fabric was held out to him.

“The air quality isn’t too bad today, but I brought an extra mask just in case.”

Atsushi took the mask and put it on without thinking, his eyes still taking in the scenery around him. Once the fabric was secured around his lower face, he followed Gin through the breezeway and down the stairs in a trance. His eyes tracked the cars as they drove by, watching the sun glint off their shiny exteriors. He couldn’t believe it. His dreams had never been this beautiful. Yokohama was far, far away. Atsushi had only ever dreamed about traveling the distance it would take to explore it.

He continued silently following Gin as they arrived at a train station right next to the building. A flash of excitement mixed with wonder shot through Atsushi as he followed her movements to scan and board. It was sleek and long and white, and there were rows and rows of blue seats in the car’s interior. He was boarding a train, a real proper city train, in Yokohama. He could feel the smile growing behind his mask.

Gin sat next to him silently, tapping away on her phone. Atsushi watched the city fly by. He was adjusting his bag and mindlessly listening to the chatter of the people around him on the train when his fingers brushed across a leather wallet in one of the front pockets. Atsushi pulled it out of the bag and curiously opened it. He was met with a school ID and a name next to a student photo.

Akutagawa Ryunosuke.

Ah, so that was this guy’s name. That would make his sister Akutagawa Gin. Atsushi peeked at her out of the corner in his eye before looking back down at the card in his hand.

The boy in the photo looked exactly like what Atsushi had seen in the mirror this morning. Dark hair, dark eyes. His mouth was set in a thin line and his brows were drawn, almost as if his face were set in a permanent scowl.

This guy must not like having his picture taken.

Atsushi scanned the other information on the card. According to what he could see, this 'Akutagawa Ryunosuke' was a third year student but was around a year and a half older than Atsushi was.

Maybe he got held back or something, Atsushi guessed.

He analyzed the picture again. The boy looked like he might be mean, or at least a bit frightening. Atsushi thought that maybe if he saw him in the street, with that same expression, he might just turn around and go the other way.

He was still analyzing the photo and thinking about what life might be like for this strange person he dreamt up when he felt the train slow. Gin stood and moved to the doors, and Atsushi followed suit. The doors slid open and the pair of them stepped out onto the street.

The first thing Atsushi noticed was how loud the city was. Up close, the cars raced by. The streets were full of people walking to and fro, lost in their own conversation. Music drifted out from the many buildings they passed and from screens hanging above them. As he followed Gin down the street, he was completely overwhelmed at the cacophony of noise surrounding him.

They walked a short ways down the busy street before they came upon the gates in front of a large school building. It was the fanciest school Atsushi had ever even been close to. Tall, white stone, polished floors, clear wide windows that were spotless. Countless people dressed in identical green and white uniforms as the one he wore meandered around an open courtyard.

“Lunch is almost over so I would start heading to class if I were you.” Gin stopped at the large green doors of the building. “I know you hate to, but please text me if you feel worse.”

Atsushi was genuinely touched by her concern “I will.”

With one last look, she pushed through the doors and left Atsushi in the courtyard. He glanced back at all the students still milling around in the sun. There’s probably more students at this school than there are people back home. He couldn’t fathom it, that there were this many people in one area, that all the people around him had their own lives and adventures in this massive city.

Ding! Ding!

A soft bell sounded throughout the school, and all the students around him began to clear out of the courtyard and return to the building. Atsushi got caught up in the middle of the crowd, and let them lead him into the school building. The inside was just as nice as the outside. The tall windows let in so much light that illuminated colorful walls and flags that hung from a glass ceiling.

His gaze travelled around as the crowd started to thin out, leaving him standing in the middle of the hall, unsure of where to turn next. He felt a bead of sweat start to travel down his back as he hurriedly looked around for any clue of where his next class might be. His dreams didn't really give him a schedule, and he didn’t ask Gin before she left.

On second thought, I could just leave, the idea popped into his brain. This was, as far as he was concerned, a dream. He was in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the country. A part of him wanted to go out and explore as much of it as he could before he woke up. None of this was real, so it wouldn’t really hurt anyone if he did.

Atsushi turned back towards the doors, the sunlight beckoning him out into the street. He took an uncertain step forward…

“Hey, Akutagawa! Bro you’re alive!”

A hand clapped down on Atsushi’s shoulder, sending a jolt through his entire body. He whirled around and was met by a boy with reddish brown hair in a rumpled uniform. A short green jacket was slung haphazardly across his shoulder and a bandaid was slapped across the bridge of his nose. Atsushi could see the faint remnants of a greenish bruise on the bottom of his jaw.

“What the hell happened, man?” The boy smiled at Atsushi casually. “I texted and you never responded. Gin was so worked up I thought she was gonna stab me with her pencil.”

“I didn’t hear my alarm,” was all Atsushi said. He vaguely recalled seeing other people text him, but he couldn’t quite remember what their names were.

“You sure that’s all it was?” The boy draped his arm around Atsushi’s shoulders and started steering them down the left side of the hallway. “She wouldn’t tell us everything, but she seemed pretty worried.”

Atsushi chose to stay silent as they passed through wide windowed hallways and colorful classroom doors. Now that Gin had left him, he really wasn’t sure how this Akutagawa person was supposed to act. Atsushi started to feel unease creep in through his chest. It was probably better for him to stay silent. His new guide seemed to not notice his nervous state.

He sighed. “Well, luckily for you, your best bro here took the majority of notes from the first half of the day for you.”

His hand dropped off Atsushi’s shoulder as he reached into his bag for something. A thin stack of papers was held out in Atsushi’s direction.

“I can’t promise they’re to your standard of studying, but the information is all there… more or less.”

Atsushi took them gently. Each of them was filled front to back with slightly messy handwriting, sectioned off by class and topic. It seemed like a lot of writing for only two classes though. He glanced over them again and saw that scrawled at the top of the first page was a name.

Tachihara.

That was one of the other two names that sent him a message this morning.

“Yeah?”

Atsushi’s head snapped up. He’d accidentally said the name out loud. The boy, Tachihara, was looking at him expectantly.

“Thanks.” Atsushi muttered quickly, turning to place the papers in his own bag.

Tachihara raised his brows. Atsushi felt a drop in his stomach. Was saying thank you somehow the wrong thing to say? Should he have just snatched them out of Tachihara’s hands?

“You sure you're alright?”

The question sent a shiver down Atsushi’s spine. Tachihara was giving him a sidelong glance as they continued through the school. He still had a relaxed smile on his face, but his brows were beginning to draw together.

“I’m fine.” Atsushi stammered out. He could feel the cold sweat begin to gather at his temples.

Tachihara was silent for a few steps before giving a very non-believing “Oookay.”

He took another turn, and Atsushi followed him into a brightly lit classroom. It seemed most of the class was already here and Tachihara led them to two empty desks by the window. Atsushi didn't actually know if this was his class or not, but nothing gave the impression that he wasn’t supposed to be here, so he took the empty seat.

Tachihara turned in his seat to lean back and look at Atsushi again.

“Well, for the rest of the day you’re on your own with notes. I’m like 90% sure we don't have an assessment in here today, so we should be fine.”

A test!? Atsushi’s heart dropped.

Whatever he would’ve said was interrupted by the teacher telling everyone to take their seats. Atsushi numbly followed the other students getting out their materials and found a notebook to place on his desk. The dazzling glimmer of his earlier dream was starting to wear off very quickly.

The teacher took their place up at the board, and Atsushi turned to stare longingly at the bustling city outside.

______________________________________

By the end of the day, Atsushi was glad Gin had given him the mask to wear. Not only did it help ease the pain in his chest, but it let him fully take in his surroundings without looking like a guy who had just woken up somewhere, and in someone, he shouldn't be in.

Following Tachihara around to the remainder of his classes, Atsushi very quickly realized three things.

One: This guy is kinda an asshole.

He very quickly learned that his guess about this Akutagawa and his mean expression earlier was one hundred percent true, just based on how other students reacted to him in the building. Other than Tachihara, everyone else seemed to avoid eye contact with him at all cost. All contact at all cost actually. Other students would avert their gazes as they passed, seas of people would part as they traveled from class to class, and conversations would almost die out completely the closer they got.

Atsushi figured this was a normal occurrence, only because Tachihara didn’t seem bothered by it, happily chatting along as Atsushi followed silently by his side. Atsushi internally wondered what would cause all of this.

Did this guy do something? Does everybody have a problem with him? With his mean expression and Tachihara’s bruises, are they in a gang or something?

Two: This kid must be seriously sick.

When he woke up in the morning, after the initial panic wore off, Atsushi really thought it was just like the flu or a bad cold. Something that could easily and conveniently keep someone out of school for the day. As the day progressed however, Atsushi realized the slightly burning ache in his chest was constant. When he almost passed out going up a flight of stairs too quickly, he finally registered that this might be a chronic issue.

Three: He was bored. So. Bored.

This has gotta be some kind of punishment, Atsushi lamented as he packed the notebook he’d been halfheartedly doodling in back into the schoolbag.

For a heartbeat, he had wondered if school in the city would be more interesting than out in the middle of nowhere, but, even with the really cool digital blackboard the teacher used, school was still school. He had tried to pay attention in the beginning, but dull reality was starting to settle in. During the final class, Atsushi almost wondered if he fell asleep on his desk, could he end the dream and wake himself back up in his own body. He didn’t want to risk it, though.

He also figured this guy must be a star student because as he skimmed his workbooks, all of the notes were clean and orderly and perfectly written. He understood why Tachihara warned him of the quality of the borrowed notes earlier.

Just my luck to have such a cool dream about the big city just to get stuck in some sick, friendless, perfectionist asshole.

Atsushi petulantly zipped his bag up and all but stomped over to where Tachihara stood by the classroom door. Luckily, both of them have the same schedule, so Atsushi was able to follow him from class to class. He wasn’t a bad guy, Atsushi guessed. He was still confused why Akutagawa had 'Do Not Respond' in big letters next to his contact name in his phone, but as Atsushi already figured out, there were several confusing things about this guy.

The pair of them made their way through the ever-avoidant sea of people towards the school's doors. Atsushi was starting to feel a pep in his step the closer they got to leaving. If it weren’t for whatever illness this guy had, he’d probably be skipping right now. Atsushi could almost touch the light at the end of the tunnel when someone called his name from behind them.

Well… not his name.

“Akutagawa-senpai!”

That made Atsushi stop. He’d just spent half the day being unwillingly isolated from the greater population of the school. Who in their right mind would be calling him senpai?

It was a girl. She had short, honey blonde hair and bright eyes that Atsushi could see the excitement in even from a distance. She jogged right up to where the two boys were walking.

Tachihara greeted her first. “Hey Higuchi.”

She ignored him almost completely, peering up into Atsushi’s face. “I’m so glad you made it for the rest of the day! Gin said she went home to check on you and you were still asleep. Are you not getting enough rest? Maybe you should….”

Ah, Higuchi. Atsushi zoned out as she kept talking. The other Do Not Respond contact. I think I can see why.

She seemed very sweet, if not very overwhelmingly enthusiastic. His gaze travelled further back through the hall and he saw Gin coming up not far behind. “He’s fine.” was all she said, cutting the conversation.

Atsushi didn’t feel like saying ‘I’m fine’ for the thirtieth time so he nodded in appreciation and just chose to go with Akutagawa’s apparent go-to; stony silence.

“Great!” Tachihara clapped. “Now that we are all here and all ok, I propose we go out and do something before work!” He flipped his phone around and showed the three of them a digital flyer. “There is a pop up market in one of the parks a few blocks down and I think we should go.”

He gestured at Akutagawa. “We can get this one some sun, and then us girls can do a little bit of shopping,” he said, waving his hand around at Higuchi and Gin.

Gin gave him a deadpan look that Atsushi had seen on Kyouka several times. “You just want to see if that guy who makes mini sword models is there.”

“Damn, you got me.”

“We can still go!” Higuchi objected. “There’s that new cafe right next to the park. Me and my sister go all the time.”

Atsushi’s ears perked up at that. A cafe? A real cafe!? He turned to look at Higuchi who was already looking at him.

“A cafe sounds nice.” He said a little too fast.

A smile broke out across her face as Tachihara and Gin shared a look. Atsushi realized that might have been something he shouldn’t have said, but he was very weak when it came to sweet treats. If he was gonna be stuck in this guy's body all day, he was determined to find at least one way to fully enjoy this dream.

Tachihara looked at Atsushi and then back at Gin again. “Sure, why the hell not? Cafe it is.”

The four of them stepped out onto the street and into the sunlight. Atsushi couldn’t stop himself from grinning behind the mask as they made their way across the city, his mouth already practically watering. He was going to a cafe!