Chapter Text
Chiaki Morisawa is sure a lot of people across many cities love(d) him very much. His singing is supposed to reach everyone.
He is happy when he reaches someone and sees them smile. They don’t really have to smile, just that their burden, however permanent, can be lifted for just a bit. So he’s probably considered frighteningly idealistic—or a very well-loved person!
But all this love goes right into his heart, and gets jammed up with the pools of still water and bitter spikes that had long since made their home inside. After all, it almost seems too good to be true!
And now, all that fluff and bandages, all the gauze and gentle contact is gone. Because he knows that he does not deserve it. He has been taught that he does not deserve it.
Of course, he will continue on, even in this strange situation. You must place a smile on your face for however long it will last. If you don’t, then whoever is beside you lets out a discontented sigh, face falling, and you are not grateful. You failed the most important task of letting them believe you’re a-okay, and now the show’s over, and they’re free to leave.
And judging by the absence of anyone he knows, perhaps tonight is the night.
Would that be good on a resume? “Owner of a twisted heart”.
Chiaki Morisawa, to put it simply, has no idea where he’s going. He does know that trying to escape whatever is trailing him, loud and unfortunately very dexterous, has gifted him rather inconvenient injuries to his leg.
Had his wish come true? Debatably. But if that’s true, then he should be gone. He isn’t supposed to exist anymore. But he’s still here…
Are they after him? Well, no kidding, he’s been running for what must be an hour by now. It’s gotta be around sunset, so soon it’s gonna be way harder for him to escape.
He knows he’s not going to make it, but he clambers through the doorway with everything he has.
A collection of gasps ensue, and he doesn’t know what they look like, but he’s still reassuring them.
There’s a flare of warmth, not the good kind. Of course you don’t have any iron pills, you don’t exist! So, he still gets like this, huh?
“Oh,” he whispers. “Sorry, I don’t mean to…”
He feels his eyes closing as the entire world becomes numb.
Tetora catches the stranger, albeit roughly. “Hey, what’s wrong?!” he yells, to no response. They weren’t that much taller than him, only an inch or so over. Okay, so no weapons. Wasn’t enough to rule out danger, but definitely a start.
Kanata gathers them from Tetora’s arms and lays them on his futon. “I don’t see any ‘wounds’.” He begins to run a hand through their unkempt hair, drenching it.
“Can you close the door? One suspicious stranger is enough for me,” Midori hadn’t moved from his spot, observing Shinobu’s paused game. “Is that Animal Crossing?”
As Tetora slid the door shut, a voice came down the hallway.
“Must have escaped.”
They didn’t get to listen in for anything else, as the innkeeper from earlier was ushering them out with a mention of “disturbing the peace”.
“I believe we are smart enough to reason that is related, correct?” Shinobu says, meekly.
Ryuseitai stands over their stowaway protectively with bated breath, waiting for the footsteps to disappear.
Two steps. Four steps. The slam of a door, and an inaudible complaint. All of them collectively sigh.
“What the hell, it’s like we’re in a cheap action movie,” Midori begins to quickly unpack his luggage, carefully pulling each yuruchara out, sparing no such sentiment for the rest of the items.
“Agreed, I have no idea how we’re supposed to practice for the live now…It seems wise to have dinner and then figure it out in the morning.” Shinobu’s game was muted, but he went through the effort to save and quit.
“I’ll get takeout or something. Don’t come with me, in case the guy comes back for seconds. Shinobu-kun, you pack any ninja stars?”
Kanata suddenly caught his arm. “Tetora, you ‘have’ to get ‘iron supplements’.
“Huh? Why?”
Kanata didn’t respond for a moment.
“I don’t ‘know’,” they settle for. “It came to me. But it is an ‘option’ nonetheless. It is better to be ‘safe’ than ‘sorry’.”
And so he returned with bags of dinner, quickly stashing away something from the pharmacy. Everyone was treating him like a bringer of rain, having not had a meal since they left for their trip.
“No need to thank me,” Tetora waves them off. The stowaway perked up at the signs of food, and when offered a bowl, had foregone all sense of rationality to start eating the udon rather aggressively.
After a bit, he seems to reach a point where he stops eating to take a breath, and looks up at him. His eyes widen, and he looks frantically around the room, face paling.
“I…I know I did something wrong, there’s no need to tell me,” Despite having a dull voice, he seems to come to a conclusion about everyone’s intentions in the time it took to recognize them.
“We aren’t going to hurt you,” Shinobu remarks, in an attempt at reassurance. He quickly looks back at Midori for approval.
“Yeah, we don’t even know you…can we have a name…?”
While outwardly he seemed to be giving the group’s words a lot of thought, subconsciously a look of despair slowly made its home on his face.
(What if I tell them my name, and it’s like the one tokusatsu movie I watched at midnight, and they remember who I am faster, what am I gonna do?! How am I gonna explain to my friends, when they remember me, that I was going to run away?
Morisawa, you can’t fall here! Not to the adversary of choosing an alias…! It’s annoying to put it in my own words, but Kamen Riders do it all the time!
Morisawa Chiaki…Morisawa Chiaki…)
“Sachi is such a ‘cute’ name!” Kanata breaks his train of thought. “In Okinawan, it is ‘orca’.”
It turns out that Chiaki had simply been manically repeating his name under his breath in his search for a surname, and that’s all Kanata could make out.
“I see. But it’s kinda silly to think his parents would name him after a fish. It’s more likely it comes from “happiness”, isn’t it? You got a last name to give us?” Tetora kneels down to the other’s level, as if Chiaki would find him menacing at all.
Now he’s in a predicament again. To repeat himself, if they heard Morisawa, they’d possibly find out what was going on. Chiaki wouldn’t risk something like that happening. And so, even though it ranked up there as one of his least favorite tactics in the plots of his shows, he went with it full throttle.
“I don’t know…” Holding his head for extra effect, he looks at the rest of them pitifully.
All of Ryuseitai launched into a variety of emotions at once.
“Sob…But it’s really awkward to call you by your first name when we just met…”
“Our new ally is a mysterious tritagonist..!”
“Hey, explain. Why was that guy chasing you?”
But he actually couldn’t answer Nagumo’s question, because he didn’t actually know that. He knew the name he was hiding, but the reason he was here was drawing a blank. He simply stares up at the other sightlessly.
“Could you be dangerous or something? I don’t go without a fight, y’know.”
“No! I would never hurt Ryuseitai…that is to say, hurt anyone at all!”
“But if you’re truly harmless, why’s someone trying to track you?” Tetora raises his voice on the last part, seemingly unaware of the fact that this “Sachi” only got more petrified.
What does he do? He doesn’t have any evidence to prove he doesn’t want to hurt anybody, but at the same time, he doesn’t have any proof of being Chiaki Morisawa, who meddles enough to be considered the blame most times.
Thankfully, he is saved. “Maybe let’s find out tomorrow, Tetora-kun. Everyone’s done with their food.” Midori called from his futon, a little put off by the sudden tension.
“…You’re right. My bad, Sachi. We just traveled for a long time today and it’s probably getting to me.” For good measure, Tetora puts an arm on Chiaki’s shoulder, who tries not to look too surprised.
“Ah, no problem, I understand.”
Chiaki quickly bounded over to the upstairs part of the group’s rental space, releasing a breath he’d been holding. He really wasn’t used to confrontation…but, at least this Nagumo wasn’t aware of how truly “villainous” Chiaki truly was. He didn’t even know Chiaki was Chiaki.
When—if they remember, will they like Sachi better?
Kanata looks at him from the top of the stairs, as if hearing his thoughts. Trading a clownfish plush to the other arm, he waves. Unlike the actor playing him, Sachi isn’t supposed to know who the other is, so he supposes this is where the two can formally be introduced.
“I’m sorry, are you trying to get somewhere? I was lost in thought.”
“I am simply going to ‘douse’,” Kanata studies him intently. “There is a large bath.”
“That’s understandable. Agh, I must’ve forgotten…Sorry, would you happen to know why my hair is wet?”
He thinks about it for a bit. “Your ‘hair’ is so soft~ I couldn’t help it.”
Ah, a compliment. Ever since Ryuseitai, or, he guesses, the Ryuseitai that used to exist had all its struggles and mistakes, Chiaki hadn’t been on the receiving end of many compliments. Not that it was for a bad reason, because no matter how much he loved them, Chiaki didn’t mind if they didn’t love him an inch back.
Of course he wouldn’t, the thought would be silly. Of course.
”Thanks, I…bet yours is soft too, Kanata!” Perfectly normal response, Chiaki. From the past world, he knows for a fact that it isn’t, sporting a nylon esque texture from how much it’s been in contact with both treated and untreated water.
Kanata looks surprised. “How do you know my ‘name’?”
(Morisawa, you IDIOT! You’re better than this and you know it! Think of something!)
“Ah, I saw the Ryuseitai aquarium commercial once. It’s imprinted in my mind.”
He receives a bright smile. “Sachi is a ‘fan’ of mine! I’m very honored~” It makes Chiaki’s heart hurt a little. Someone who he could trust with even a slice of his true self back then, thinking he’s simply a fan.
Kanata bounds to the end of the hallway without another word in his excitement. Damn it, he forgot to ask where he’s supposed to sleep.
Reaching the futons packed like sardines, Chiaki lets out a sigh. If anything had gone differently, if he hadn’t carried this curse, he’d be just like his past self and gladly cuddle up to Ryuseitai without a single guilty thought. But because it turned out this way, he lowers onto the futon farthest from everyone else.
He turns to face away for good measure, already biting back a bit of tears. At least he wasn’t caught by whatever that was…
At some point he registers the futon being moved to the right, and something unfairly soft being placed in his arms. That must mean nothing.