Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

As it turns out, the Internet was truly a vast place.

Rui wasn't saying this because of how far his scripts have reached. In fact, only about an audience of four DiaryThrive users left kudos on his first script, 'The Sound of Ghostwinds.' That's not a lot, now that the positive high of having an audience at all has dwindled from him. His other work, titled 'Firelight,' inspired by The Little Match Girl and based off of K's 'a heavy burden,' had a total of three kudos. Yet, he couldn't be ever more grateful for the fact that his audience left him positive comments! At this rate, his spring break was completely made.

The reason why the Internet's vastness impressed him, however, is from a certain online community he wound up in whilst researching for his upcoming script. He wanted to take a look at other interpretations of one of Tom Gray's works he holds dear to his heart. In his research, he found few video essays discussing Gray's staging and lighting directions, but the most striking discovery was a work on DiaryThrive that amassed quite the audience. It was a multi-chapter fanwork by an anonymous user under the name 'don' (which he found its double entendre amusing, as it could have been a reference to Cervantes' Don Quixote, but its pronunciation in English could also refer to 'dawn'), and it's overall purpose was to tie every single one of Gray's works together.

It's titled 'raindrops trickle down the looking glass¹,' and he might have spent a good week or so consecutively reading through as many of the chapters as he could. Somehow, Don managed to capture the whimsical nature behind every one of Gray's films while also spinning together an absurdist commentary on the drawbacks of social withdrawal, whether literal or psychological. The worlds that Gray envisioned became the visions of the people that wanted a life outside of what was reality, and it shed new light upon what Rui already considered theatrical masterpieces. He didn't think Gray's works could secretly be a unified commentary on the loss of wonder in adulthood due to social, political and economic cruelty in addition to the lengths people will go to preserve their childhoods.

One character in particular, whom was a deuteragonist in one of Gray's older productions, The Voice of the Honeybee², deluded herself into believing the rain had no effect on her wellbeing. She would ignore it and go about her day no matter how many times her coworkers asked why she came to work soaking wet. In the original production, Gray portrayed her as someone who held a vast amount of optimism that in her eyes, the umbrellas around her were flowers blooming thanks to the rainfall. However, in Don's interpretation, she was someone who couldn't let go of the sunny days no matter how hard she tried, thus she drowned in her fantasies until they bled into her daily life.

It was a grim reimagination, not unlike the coma theories he'd heard about for several popular children's cartoons like Pokemon: The Series, but it wasn't an unsupported interpretation. The Voice of the Honeybee was about the optimism of facing challenges in life head-on with a new perspective, hence the calling of the honeybee's quest. Don's reimagining only integrated her story with the rest of the cast in a way that called into question why exactly she continued to let the rain engulf her every day. Once she was able to let go of the sunny days, she valued the umbrella's purpose, and her chapter of the fanwork was resolved.

Speaking of chapters, he was midway through a chapter where one of the main characters was traversing through another's inner world. The concept itself was astounding: the idea of someone being so close to you in a way that you are able to see their thoughts, memories and dreams in a world crafted to represent every facet of them? Wouldn't that be a wonderful dream for Rui to experience? Not to mention how beautifully it was represented throughout the chapters with its background, formatting and use of real-life images and effects. He wasn't aware DiaryThrive let its HTML coding be messed with in such a way, and that alone sprouted many new ideas on how he wanted to present his future works to the online sphere.

For now, he focused back on the events at hand.

Kingsley³ pondered on and on, staring at the sky full of stars that dotted out the names of everyone he's ever known. Some of them, he did not recognize.

"Hugo⁴!" He screamed into the ink black void above him. "Hugo! I want to know who you are, who I am! You are the answer to the parts of myself I can't find, you know this! I have looked everywhere, down the rabbit hole I went and up to the highest of mountains I've trekked. I have seen what has made you weep, and I have seen what has coaxed you to sleep. You are a part of me, you are the self I must be! What am I missing? What part of you do I have left to find to truly know who you are, who I am?!"

His breaths came uneven, and each of his fingers trembled in the cold winds that picked up as if carrying his message through the breeze. He blinked the tears out of his eyes before they even left his tear ducts. He was not going to show weakness, he was going to show Hugo his strength and determination to bear the burden of his role.

He reached out once more to the sky full of stars, drowned in the names of everyone that he knew would never love him.

"Hugo!" He screamed once more. "Who are you? Who am I? Answer me, show me the way, lest I leave empty handed into a world filled with nothing but dismay!"

"Kingsley, you shan't bear my name alone no more."

Behind him stood the very man he had waited his entire life to see. Hugo stood there, just like that night Kingsley dreamed as a kid of a hero that would bestow upon him his rightful purpose.

"Hugo!" Kingsley called one more time, filled with relief. "I replayed the time for Bleuette⁵, helped Jeanne⁶ find her passion, and gave Barbicane⁷ the cannon model! I have helped everyone discover their true selves, all to reach you!"

"No." Hugo cut him off with a solemn gaze. "I am the self you want to be. I am you, and I am myself."

"That doesn't make any sense." Kingsley took a step closer. "Don't speak in riddles, I want a straight answer!"

"The answer to who you are lies above you. You have seen it in the entire journey you've taken through your past, your present, and your desired future." Hugo guided Kingsley's gaze up to the sky lined with constellations of names. "Kingsley, you are me because I am you. I am you because you are made up of everyone that has ever known you, and I have known you the longest."

In this imagined world that Kingsley traversed through, he had the opportunity to amend his regrets and become the hero he always wanted to be. The problem came in the form of his self-loathing permeating any sense of who he was and who the hero, Hugo, was meant to be. Kingsley saw no future as himself, so bearing the name of Hugo was supposed to be his catharsis.

This revelation, however, left Rui staring at the words that should have been obvious long ago. Humans are created from stardust in a technical sense, since a star's supernova would send its elements flying across space. For the stars in the night sky to spell the names of everyone that loved Kingsley, and perhaps Kingsley loved back, Rui interpreted it as a tangible symbol representative of how these people left a mark on Kingsley's heart. In the original film Kingsley was from, the stars were a symbol of humanity's hope. Hugo's film was about his lifetime as a clocktower technician, understanding the gravity of time. However, for this to be the reason why the stars were placed so meticulously?

…He must admit, the idea of being a kaleidoscope of those you love was yet another faraway fantasy. To have so many people you hold close, that you can see pieces of them in your own identity?

What part of Rui was considered from those he loved? He holds his father's interest in robotics, and his mother's little speech quirks. The liberty of testing out his experiments regardless of public perception was something he picked up from Mizuki's rebellious nature; as much as he attributes his independence to his own upbringing, he can't help but wonder what his ideas would've looked like if he lost that courage to stay true to himself had he never waited for Mizuki on that rooftop. He knows his love for shows was his own, but he couldn't help but wonder if Nene had a part in that.

Nene. He finds that a part of Nene was within him, too. Their shared love for shows, the Little Mermaid musical they saw as kids, and how much Nene smiled in joy as she participated in Rui's childish invention ideas. He hasn't talked to her in a while, but saying something out of the blue would come off as inconsiderate. That, and he forgot to see her show with her troupe. It was a few months ago, and Rui couldn't help the guilt because he was so laser focused on whatever useless ideas he was working with at the time. He lost track of time and failed to realize the show days had already passed. Had his parents been home, they would have reminded him to go, but they weren't. They didn't bring it up. It's selfish to think Nene would have been so hurt by his absence, anyway. He considers her as a dear friend, but he shouldn't burden her by demanding her attention.

Would Rui still have been so passionate if he had no one to share that passion with? That's a little depressing considering his current situation. Or, maybe he was looking at the greater picture wrong. Where he was right now couldn't have happened had he never found K's music. Through K's music, he found a sense of connection beyond the screen to people he'll never meet in person. It should be a lonely thought. He should be lonely beyond repair having resorted to such means, but he's not. He's happy he found this fanwork because it means someone out there understands a level of passion behind show-making and films like he did. He was happy he found it because if he is a kaleidoscope of everyone he's ever met, then he's gained a greater understanding of himself through this message and through K's music.

Painful, but beautiful. Living despite the odds. Those were the words Rui has come to accept encapsulated K's music perfectly, because through K's music, he found a home he's never known he could even find. A home where something like him could live and bloom prosperously in whatever ways he desired, and there were others that felt the same way, too. Did anyone feel that way with his scripts? Did he even belong here?

Him and his musings. He had to see what Kingsley would do with this revelation, and thus kept reading through the chapter. It was going to be a late night, but regardless, time always slipped past his fingers.

Knock-knock. "Rui, dinner's served. It's noodle soup."

It's already time for dinner? "I'll go in a bit."

His mother's footsteps faded away and he slumped over his desk. Being brought back to the monotony of daily routine after catching up to Don's fanwork made him dread having to leave his room. He hasn't changed out of his clothes since yesterday and he forgot to shower in the last week. In spite of these facts, he still had to leave his bedroom lest he wanted to catch his parents' undivided attention. It should be fine if he just gets out, eats, and darts back into the workshop as quickly as possible. His parents hadn't brought up any of his habits beforehand, so hopefully, today wouldn't be any different. The dinner table should be big enough for him to find a corner furthest from his parents' usual seats.

Why was he ruminating over this? He should be heading out of the workshop by now, but he found himself gripping the edges of his desk and steeling himself in the sea of his fright. He took a deep breath in, then drew it out. With another breath, he shoved himself up on his feet and gripped the doorknob a beat too long before opening the door.

He sat down at the kitchen table before he realized he even made it there. Just opposite of where he sat, his father was silently scooping up a spoonful of broth from his bowl of soup. The waft of Rui's serving called his attention, and he looked down to find it was a simple soba noodle soup. Ungarnished, unlike his father's. His mother really went through the lengths to avoid any and all vegetables in making this for him.

If he ate fast enough, he could go back to working on his show ideas. One of K's previous works sparked an idea of a show where a character would die in the middle of the audience⁸. There were a few details in Don's fanwork he wanted to test, such as Kingsley's cannon model being described as 'twice the power of a supernova.' That, and he got his hands on a few tutorials Don shared in their community posts regarding the way they program their fanworks to appear the way they do. There was also the matter of a robotics project he'd eyed for a few months now, but wasn't able to find the drive to bring its concept to the page—

"I know you already graduated, Rui, but there's something I think we need to talk about."

Oh no. He took too long to pick up his chopsticks and probably stared at his bowl so long his parents were worried he was spacing out for something serious. When did his mother sit down with her own bowl of soup?

"Really, Mom, it's fine." He glanced up but didn't bat a single eye at his mother. "I was just a little too passionate for the last month. You know how I can get with my projects."

"You were absent for so many days, the school called to warn me you'd be on probational watch." She set her hand on her chopsticks but didn't pick them up. "If you didn't consistently go this last month, you wouldn't have a high school to go to."

His leg bounced underneath the table. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'll do better."

"Mrs. Kusanagi told me a lot about your physical state. You weren't taking care of yourself, she tried to talk to you while you dismissed her, and Nene was trying to contact you before we got back home."

"Rui, what is going on?" The click of his father's spoon landing on the table was louder than it should have been. "You weren't always like this. Did something happen while we were gone?"

Wasn't that the crux of the problem? It wasn't that his parents had no idea how to 'help' him, but they were seeing problems that didn't exist. He wasn't harming himself, nor was he actively suicidal, so why were they so worried over him? They should be angry at him for not taking care of the house well enough, but instead the way they tiptoed around and tried to coax him into a sense of safety was insinuating he was something fragile to deal with; that his 'behaviors' were manifestations of something deeply wrong that they could fix.

That's the problem: he hasn't changed in the 15 years he's been alive. There was nothing to be fixed because the purest form of himself was something that no society nor family could fix. Were his parents getting tired of him now that he was older? Has their love run out?

"Everything's fine," he managed to get out, "I've just been a little fixated on a new show I found enlightening."

He steadied the bowl with his right hand and picked up his chopsticks with his left to slurp up a small portion of noodles. His leg was still bouncing under the table.

Across him, he saw out of the corner of his eye that his father reluctantly picked his spoon back up to keep eating. Based on the sound effects of utensils clicking to his right, he assumed his mother was joining the two of them in eating her deliciously crafted meal. It was a good thing he could still savor the dry flavor of the noodles. He knows those that struggle with a deep depression can lose their sense of taste as a result of a loss of appetite, thus it's confirmation of his healthy state.

"Have you already mapped out the path to your new school?" His mother asked.

Rui nodded. "I'll take the morning train at the station."

"And you'll be at school on time?" He could imagine his father's brow hitching up in suspicion.

Nonetheless, Rui took his time slurping another clump of noodles for comedic effect, then tapped the tips of his chopsticks to his lips. "It's my New Years' Resolution to take Shinjuku Academy's offerings of self-paced coursework to their fullest extent."

"You'd make a killing in robotics competitions for high schools, I'll give you that."

His mother scoffed. "You two and your machines. Don't remind me how you almost set fire to the garage with those welding tools."

Ah, that incident back in the last leg of elementary school was one he couldn't forget. His father wanted to show him how to use a solder for electronics.

"Soldering, sweetie," his father deadpanned, "it's soldering."

"Regardless, you were melting metal and turned on the settings too high."

As his parents playfully bickered, all Rui did was eat the last of the noodles, head to the kitchen and leave his dishes in the sink. He should wash them and show his parents he was a perfectly functional teenager, but he might tick them off if he does so. They're going to ask what's wrong with him anyways: it was a miracle that childhood memories managed to distract them long enough for Rui to avoid the conversation on his well-being.

He crossed the dinner table and tried to look his parents in the eyes. They looked at him back with eyes full of emotions he couldn't name.

He pulled a small smile on his face.

"Thanks for the meal," he said, and left before either one of his parents could properly reply back.

As soon as he shut the door leading to the workshop, he ran a hand down his face. What was wrong with him? What did he need to fix about himself to make his parents stop worrying about him? He chose to go to a prestigious high school in a neighboring ward and was an academic prodigy. He had the grades, the talent, everything that would make his parents proud, so why were they asking about his attendance? That didn't matter in the long run because most of the required lecturing hours were wasted on reviews and exams he could make up in a jiffy.

Was it the way his clothes hung off of his body? Was he making a sour face when he was around them? His hair looks no different brushed out or not, so it couldn't have been that. His parents know he slouches a lot, so…

What use was there dwelling on something minute? His parents were worried, fine. They'll see overtime that nothing about him has changed from the moment he was born. He's the same kid from elementary school that asked his mother what was wrong with him. He's the same thing that everyone thought of when hearing the word 'different.' No matter what, he still held the same eyes filled with passion and wonder for theater, shows and inventions that barred him from truly connecting with those around him. None of that would change upon walking through Shinjuku Academy's doors.

Ding!

That came from his computer. He sat down at his desk and scrolled up to access his notifications tab. It wasn't a notification from DiaryThrive, so the only other place it could have been from was PicShare, meaning someone he's subscribed to uploaded a new video. He hasn't left any comments since K's 'a heavy burden.' Just as he expected, it was from none other than K themself. The name of their new song was 'certain stagnation.'

Many of K's works follow a similar naming style, almost like a watermark. They focus on an intangible concept, such as a burden or a vow. In their newest song, it seems the concept of 'stagnation' is being tackled. The word describes an unchanging state, whether it be in a physical space or a characteristic development. It differs slightly from previous naming conventions since stagnation itself can be used to describe other concepts, such as a stagnant state of mind. However, it still felt very K-like because the stagnation is described as something 'certain.' It's similar to a phrasing of 'forever' that he read in a play, where instead of a certain forever, it called into question how long forever would last by describing the scenario as 'forever and a day.' Infinity plus one.

This time, he plucked his earbuds from his desk, which he bought not too long ago, and plugged them into the monitor. He got comfortable on his chair and played K's newest song.

He's never verified this, but it's said there have been many studies of music having a crucial impact in a person's wellbeing, such as their memory and lowering anxiety⁹. If that is the case, what does it say about the composer?

Now that he sat here contemplating his interpretation of 'certain stagnation,' he had to question what it took K to get to where they are now. If music has the power to change people, then the composer's intention is made from music that changed them. Something, anything that the composer went through had to have been an inspiration behind this soundtrack. What was it? What was that feeling that wanted to tear itself out of his own chest, scrambling for any source of acknowledgement?

How come Rui, who knew for certain no one would ever want him around, whole and truly himself, kept flocking to K's music, to the identity he crafted online as voltaic_, as if that would change something? How was it that the mere idea of someone out there potentially understanding even a fraction of the nameless emotions numbing his head gave him this hope for change? If music has an impact on the human brain, then logically, this song filled with so much pain and inexplicable grief should be ruining him. It shouldn't be played on loop in his ears, filling in the noise for the quiet hum of whirring machines and pencil scratches on paper.

K's music was something extraordinary because it's putting notes to the emotions he cannot name. Was it possible for someone to understand another better than they understood themself, for a connection to be made before they knew each others' names? Was it possible that K had an inkling, or even the whole picture, on the way their audience perceive their realities? It was as if he were uncovering a secret he didn't want to open, a part of himself he so solemnly refused to acknowledge for some unknown reason. Was K's music targeting himself, or the self he doesn't want to look at? What bridged the gap between himself and K's music to this degree?

Usually, he would be scrambling to his notebook, jotting down ideas on how to use the soundtrack, or how the soundtrack's structure could be interpreted as a story. He didn't have the strength to move from where he was, stuck in a trance because something cold was running down his cheeks.

Tears. He couldn't help but wonder when was the last time he cried.

A majority of K's songs managed to play the words Rui transcribed into his playscripts, so when 'encounter' released as the first song with lyrics and vocals accompanying it, he might have spent a majority of the day dissecting the lyrics. They were straight to the point, yet he found little details underlining the stanzas.

He was eyeing a specific portion of the lyrics.

There were a few ideas he had in mind for what the song could be talking about. It was titled 'encounter,' so the lyrics are further backed by the claim that this was a message from one party to another upon meeting at an intersecting point. The setting and context of the encounter aren't explicitly described, however: most of the lyrics reference being 'chained' and 'shackled.' Was it an unhealthy relationship that the speaker was wishing to escape from? None of the lyrics imply the other party was the one causing harm, so is it possible this was from the perspective of someone that knows they were hurting the other, but can't leave due to inexplicable circumstances?

Another idea he had was about someone being untethered to the world and wishing to fall into a dream. That would make both parties concepts rather than human characters; reality and fantasy. The bridging gap between both is where the conversation theoretically happens between the feeling of being 'chained to a place' where 'fantasy' doesn't exist, and the 'reality' of not knowing the 'love' that lets fantasy understand reality. He figures someone would deem reality and fantasy unalike one another, polar opposites, but the lyrics of the song beg to differ. 'Reality' would be the one tethering 'fantasy' back to it, which is why 'fantasy' wants to escape.

He'd never considered the symbolism of fantasy being a fleeting thing to the point reality becomes the one wishing for its presence. Under this context, would fantasy's existence work only within reality's confines? It highlights the irony of the situation because fantasy is supposed to subvert reality in all ways possible. However, if fantasy were to become its truest form, reality would no longer be able to understand it. That brings about the question; is fantasy truly a fantastical world if there are elements that ground it back to reality? If there are no characters to understand the fictitious world through, no lands to envision walking upon and no song to drift through the mind, then what part of humankind can truly connect to it?

Now, wasn't that a selfish thing about humanity? They're so greedy to the point they will infuse their own ideas of reality into a concept that's supposed to be a world unlike theirs. By drowning in fantasy, they tether it to their own reality in a way that hurts them both. Reality loses all sense while fantasy cannot fulfill its true nature.

It made him think about Don's fanwork, briefly. The conversation between Hugo and Kingsley came back, and this time, it was under a different lens. Being understood through others was its own lesson, but in the idea that Hugo was only created for Kingsley's hubris?

Hugo guided Kingsley's gaze up to the sky lined with constellations of names. "Kingsley, you are me because I am you. I am you because you are made up of everyone that has ever known you, and I have known you the longest."

"But you are yourself, and I am my own self!" Kingsley glared back at him, tearing his sights from the stars. "If I exist because of people that have never given a second glance at myself, then can I not exist without them? My fate is condemned to that of a mindless sheep of humanity becoming those around me for my own sanity?"

"You misunderstand me."

"I understand it all perfectly!" He clutched onto his scarf and tore it down from his neck. It unraveled and pooled on the floor, revealing his blistered neck. He ignored Hugo's lack of reaction to his scars. "What you see is not what I feel! I wanted to become you because I knew you were me, that you were supposed to become me! I poured my heart and soul into taking upon your role, but I am unfinished and you are whole! You are untouchable! How many more people must I meet before I reach that epiphany you lay before me?! How much more must I mercilessly seize from everyone to reach your brilliancy?!"

Kingsley believed he finally knew what it was like to see red. Hearing the phrase is one experience, feeling it is another. All he wanted to do was tear the answers out of Hugo's voice, seep into his own mind, look through his fears and consume him whole. He can't afford saying any more right words to get someone to swoon at his presence and be in awe of his majesty just to give himself that heroism he knew Hugo received without any effort. He can't imagine what it would be like for Barbicane to enter this cursed fantasy world of his mind and realize everything Kingsley made for him was for his praise and attention, what Jeanne would do if she lost her passion once Kingsley revealed his true intentions. He didn't want to think of a world where Bleuette wished her time had stopped because of him.

He never helped them; he tore away their futures and shackled them to his false sense of 'identity.' "Hugo. Take my place, take my name, leave no space for my memory to remain. I cannot, will not hurt another innocent person just for my name to be cleared. I don't understand why I am not feared by those that claim to love me…"

Kingsley felt a lack of control over his life as he was born with the ability to guide the stars in whatever way he desired. In his home film, Light of Hope, he was the helmsman of the ship sailing to find the end destination and gained the power to control the stars to guide the ship towards that end goal. Hence, the stars' symbolism as humanity's hope and Kingsley's usage of it to push through the relentless tides. In Don's work, however, this ability burdens him because it calls into question whether the bonds he's forged were true. Kingsley doubts his abilities and thus loses his true self.

Rui remembered thinking how Kingsley's line of thought in this fanwork was a little redundant if he just thought about it further. If the overall lesson was identities being forged by those around you, then everyone else was just like Kingsley. They wouldn't have come as far as they did without him, so they, too, could have manipulated Kingsley into giving them his own piece of himself so they could fulfill their own identities.

At the time, his little analysis got cut short the further he read.

Hugo's stern expression never wavered in the entirety of Kingsley's meltdown. Kingsley wasn't out to hurt him, Hugo knew that. He chose to be the steady force Kingsley needed to calm down. "Do you believe humanity isn't selfish?"

Kingsley was taken aback. "What?"

"Do you believe humanity isn't selfish?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Kingsley covered his throat in shame and picked up his scarf. "I don't think they're born selfish. They don't intrinsically relish in the pain of others, nor do they chain others down because of their nature."

"But I am you, Kingsley." Hugo pivoted to fully face him. "If I am you, then I am made up of you. Just as everyone creates your self, so too is my self created. Humans want to preserve their identities and stay still against the changing tides of time. Does the idea of your identity changing unrecognizably scare you?"

Then came the question of selfishness. Was it selfish to want something from others if they wanted something from you? If such is valid, then would it still be called selfishness or would it be called a law of life?

He thought back to K's 'encounter' and considered the entire picture of the story told by the song. The idea of one's identity 'changing unrecognizably' is a probable outcome when forced in a relationship that demands a change in self. One whole part of yourself in exchange for the other's part of themself, equivalent exchange.

While Kingsley feared it and thus rejected his connection to Hugo, the conversation in 'encounter' brings up an interesting diversion. He read the lyrics past what he was eyeing earlier.

'encounter' idealizes the lack of self-identity as the correct state of mind, thus 'fantasy' loses all sense of meaning in itself. In turn, 'reality' loses meaning. It's an equivalent exchange of one concept rooted in finality with a concept rooted in endlessness. There's no meaning behind having an identity, goal, or ideals when you can give all of yourself to an idealized world that has no place in reality, because immersing yourself in that fantasy is to disregard reality. What part of that was selfish, knowing that it's a win-win situation? Or, a lose-lose situation, depending on how one views it. Both parties gain/lose something in the end.

In that case, Hugo's idea that all of humanity is selfish for wanting someone out of others doesn't make sense because if everyone wants something out of another for their personal identities, then where does the line between natural connection and selfish gain draw itself? How far must someone go before it is condemned as an act of vanity? He thought back to Hugo's home film, The Clocktower's Compass, where Hugo learned the minuteness of time and how precious moments flee so easily.

Compared to Don's fanwork, Hugo in The Clocktower's Compass was more bold and outgoing. He was a man of many words, singing his tales and travels to any travelers traversing through his tower. (Say that three times fast! Maybe he'll use this string of alliteration for an adaptation of The Clocktower's Compass…) He learns the regrets the travelers carry, and it causes Hugo to regret his entire life. He wished he could become the travelers and experience their lives, and grew to loathe his profession as the clocktower's keeper. It's not until he leaves the clocktower he realizes he cannot achieve everything he wants in life. Thus, it was important for him to do what he loves the most: taking care of something that means a lot to those that travel near and far. The reminder that their time is fickle, thus every moment they spend alive counts.

Rui thought Hugo's disregard for his growth as the clocktower's keeper was childish and a front to cover up for his regrets, but with his newfound interpretation of 'encounter,' all he could see in Hugo was a natural development. In the process of doing what he loved for so long, love became the norm rather than a novelty. Of course he would want more than the monotony of being the tower's keeper, to lose himself in the fantasy of living a new life because the reality of only having one identity, one path was shackling. Doors to new opportunities in life will close as time goes on, the possibilities lose their endlessness, and to live a life without regrets—for Kingsley to have confidence in himself, for Hugo to be happy with his life, for reality and fantasy to be their separate worlds where they do not take from each other—was a set impossibility.

There was no wrong or right choice for Hugo, only what he chose to do with the time he had left. The same could apply for Kingsley.

"My identity, changing forevermore?" Kingsley scoffed. "A destined future lies ahead of me, all I ask for is certainty. I ask for your presence to be a guarantee, because it is certain what others believe about themselves. Barbicane is proud, Jeanne is kind, and Bleuette is endowed with clear sound of mind. What is there in me to find but you, the hero that everyone looks to?"

Hugo tilted his head. "Do you seek the praise of those around you, or do you want to find your own destiny away from those you love?"

"I don't want to be alone, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying what you already know." Hugo gently held onto Kingsley's shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. "You know, deep down, that I am you. Every part of yourself, I know, but something makes us different. Something keeps us from truly becoming like the other."

"What is it?!" Kingsley latched onto Hugo's wrists and pushed them off of his shoulders. He still held onto Hugo's wrists. "Through your world I never quit; I faced your trials, and here at the precipice of it all, you still want to give me denial? What is your genesis, what is my genesis? Answer me, Hugo!"

Hugo did not respond. In the breath of silence, Kingsley's grip on Hugo's wrists loosened, though he made no initiative to be free of Kingsley's hold entirely.

"Have I been led astray?" Kingsley's heart beat a second faster. "Where in my life did I lose my way? I made precious memories with those I hold dear, but with their love they've gifted me, does that mean I have fundamentally become different from you?"

The experiences Kingsley acquired from his time with the others in this world ended up closing the door between him truly becoming Hugo, the man he was destined to be. Compared to the nihilistic view on self-identity in 'encounter,' Kingsley grieves the loss of identity he's endured for the sake of becoming Hugo. He rejects himself, and thus rejects the love he's received from those around him. Just like Hugo's rejection of his life as the clocktower's keeper, Kingsley's rejection of himself was a natural development from the fear that having only one version of himself was going to close any and all opportunities around him. Compared to Hugo, Kingsley did not search for a new life or identity from those around him. He caved inwards and sought to make the most out of the one path he was given in life at the cost of carving his own way.

Compared to everything in Don's fanwork, 'encounter' covers a jaded view on identity and the loss of it being something beneficial as it reinstates you to something 'nonexistent.' It is the argument that it is simply better to not 'exist,' as then there wouldn't be a question of selfishness and want in the first place. If reality and fantasy did not exist, neither would chain the other down just to keep themselves afloat.

Rui was amazed how much there was to pick apart from K's music now that it had lyrics, and how much it connected to Don's fanwork and, by proxy, Tom Gray's films on self-discovery and hope. He initially wondered if he could use these ideas of fantasy and reality in his guerilla shows, but he also wondered how it could come to fruition in DiaryThrive? He'd have to look into stock image websites and see what he could use, since he was sure of using resources he's allowed to use. He could attempt a few shadowed fonts reflecting the invisible ink between what he was writing and what he wanted to convey, and perhaps he could make an attempt to embed a few pictures illustrating a set design or two to better convey his ideas... words only carried so far, after all. 

'Cluster in the Night Sky' was becoming his most popular work under voltaic_, and rightfully so. The song it was tied to, 'Pandora's Box,' was K's most recent song. What made this different from the rest of their songs was that it was accompanied by a music video, which surprised Rui greatly. K recently added lyrics to their music, and now they incorporated visuals, too?

According to speculation online, it's likely users 'Enanan' and 'Amia' were commissioned. Few dedicated fans found an artwork and a music video tied to each other whose styles strongly resembled the ones in 'Pandora's Box.' However, no one in the video's description was credited.

The visuals behind 'Pandora's Box' sparked many ideas in his head that became 'Cluster in the Night Sky.' There was a girl depicted to greatly cherish a ribbon-tied box whose contents were omitted from the audience¹⁰. Compared to previous songs, this song was filled with a greater expression of emotion that reflected the turmoil that the girl didn't express once the box was torn away from her and crushed before her eyes. The lyrics also hinted at the perpetrator's folly reasoning behind crushing the box: it could have been filled with a danger that questioned the status quo. The perpetrator acted on suspicion rather than concrete evidence, leading to the tragedy of the song.

He remembered how much time he spent researching the mythos behind Pandora's Box. To his surprise, there were many facets of her story he found himself using in 'Cluster of the Night Sky.' For starters, the name of the play was derived from the galaxy cluster 'Abell 2744¹¹,' which happened to also be referred to as 'Pandora's Cluster.' He originally believed the myth was simply Pandora's curiosity leading to the evil and strife in the Greek world, but as it turns out, there are many versions of the myth. In its earliest form, Pandora¹² was humanity's curse after Prometheus gifted fire to men, and she represented the origin point of evil as well as being the first woman of many. She was blessed with gifts from the gods, created by Hephaestus, and in a retelling she was adorned with the name 'Pandora' by the god of tricksters, Hermes. The retelling is where the story of the box originates from, which is actually a mistranslation of pithos, meaning jar.

While the myth is regarded as a story of the meaning of evil in Greek mythology, the earliest records of Pandora's character don't explain why the last thing left in the box was elpis. Hope. Thus, Rui was inspired by the difficulties in the interpretation of the myth and wondered if he could write a play where many perspectives behind the myth could help formulate an answer behind the meaning of hope in a cruel, unjust world. He also wanted to derive the tragic betrayal from K's 'Pandora's Box.' 

Rather… instead of K, they went by a different name. Nightcord at Hour 25. Rui wasn't paying attention enough to notice when the username's change happened. Thus, the more accurate description is to say 'Pandora's Box' was a song created by Nightcord at Hour 25. 

Rui spent a few days since the song's release researching further into the myths of Pandora and what he could derive from 'Pandora's Box.' Afterwards, he began outlining the script. The protagonist was Pyrrha, a young girl who wants to understand her mother (being Pandora) by figuring out how to open the box she left behind for her. (A jar, while true to the original intent, would've resembled a place to store her ashes more than a memoir. It was a little too grim for his taste, and didn't reflect what he wanted the box's significance to be.)  She learns about her mother through her father, her grandfather and her brother, who all believe Pandora was a scheming woman that only wanted to cause pain. The last person Pyrrha talks to is her uncle, who explains the box was filled with many gifts for her from those she loved.

Unfortunately, the climax of the play was the argument between Pyrrha and her father that led to the same events as in the music video: the crushing of the box. Losing something so dear to you that was the last gift of your loved one was something he was unfamiliar with. He's read plays and books covering the topic of grief, sure, but compared to his previous works, he wasn't sure how he wanted to approach it. DiaryThrive was primarily a journaling website, so if he wanted to find a way to capture that grief and pain, he'd have to look somewhere else. He began with research papers he found online covering the impacts of grief, but what he wanted were ways in which people dealing with grief were able to express those emotions. Most of what he found were discussions on the meaning of death, and what one should do after someone they love has died. That's not what he was looking for.

His research left him frustrated for many hours on his sofa, lamenting over how he lacks knowledge in something that comes easy to everyone else. No matter which way he twisted and molded the stories of grief he's read and seen, none of it could ever come close to losing someone for good. He hasn't truly experienced a tremendous loss himself. Nene was still his neighbor, his parents were still alive, and Mizuki…

Was Mizuki still alive?

They never kept in contact because they didn't feel like getting closer than they already were. As much as he wanted to doubt Mizuki would go through with it, he selfishly wondered if his graduation would've pushed her over the edge. He shook his head. That's stupid. Mizuki is her own person, and if she were to do it, it'd be because of society's rejection of her very identity. Why was he even ruminating over such an idea? She's never talked to him about wanting to die, but many of the things she spoke about alluded to the idea.

"Not being able to do anything about your suffering but wish for the end, huh?"

He needed to verify something in the music video for 'Pandora's Box.' In a devoted silence, he wanted to analyze the music video as a whole. He wasn't looking for little details or the overall storyline, he wanted to see if the story could have been interpreted as a silent scream of anguish that could never be let out. Through that lens, the girl's expression of resignation became one filled with an inexplicable pain that wanted to shatter the screen separating her from salvation. And yet, she didn't do so because she wanted to give up after losing something so precious to her.

Most of Rui's scripts he posted online were made out of two things: his passion for theater, and his gratitude for K's music. However, now that K's new music video set a new standard for the channel, his sights aimed higher. If he wanted to write a work on 'Pandora's Box,' he had to make it stand out from the rest of his works.

The first thing he did was he cracked down on learning as much of DiaryThrive's limits on HTML coding as he could. Different ways he could make the text pop, what hints he could hide through images and text blocks, and what he could embed into the script. He wasn't looking to overwhelm the script with coding and cool colors, but he wanted this to contribute to the overall message he wanted to convey with 'Cluster in the Night Sky.' Speaking of message, rather than focus on a moral lesson or a favorable outcome, what if he were to write a tragedy, straight through? The length would vary on how long he wanted to make it, but at the end goal, he wondered if having Pyrrha's despair consume her to the point of suicide would make the ending's impact stand out. 'Pandora's Box' was a song about losing that hope to keep fighting after losing your reason to live. Ironic, considering the modern ending to the myth itself was about finding hope in such a painful world.

He might have been going too far thematically, but he was a man that wanted to make his ideas come to life. If he could not make his ideas come to fruition, fulfill the one role he's known how to play since he was made, then what right did he have to call himself an aspiring director?

Yet, it still weighed him in a scale of justice, like a line he could not cross. Something about writing a work where the ending was a hopeless end that brought no joy or optimism in his audience was…

How about leaving the ending open for interpretation? It'd be a challenging constraint: open-ended stories tend to draw in negative criticism because of the author's lack of conviction to settle on an ending. If he wanted to go this route, he'd have to make sure no loose ends were left untied except for the ones deliberately left to the audience's hold.

Thus, the playscript 'Cluster in the Night Sky' was finished. After Pyrrha's father crushes her box, the girl is left on stage under a single blue spotlight. He didn't want her to be under a white spotlight so it would be harder to make out what she was truly feeling, but the audience would know it can be interpreted as an indescribable anguish. She picks up the pieces of the box, remembering every tale she's heard about her mother, and fails to piece the box together.

Pyrrha leaves the box behind and heads center stage for her final monologue, discussing the cruel words she's heard about her mother from her family.

PYRRHA: The image I see of my mother, and the paintings my father painted of her. They never matched even when they once loved each other. I always saw my father as someone strong and reliable, someone that I could count on no matter what. And my mother was this… ray of hope in my life that shone in my bedroom after I woke up from a nightmare. She was the warmth of the sun in the playground, the light that sparked in the night sky. (Beat.) Was she truly so evil? How can someone who was given so many things in life turn out that way? She did so much for me, so much more than my father ever could. (Beat.) But my father wanted to do what was right. But the box was all I had left of her!

PYRRHA collapses to her knees and hides her face in her hands.

PYRRHA: If I turn out just like my mother… will I be the woman I dreamed of being? Or will I be the cruel and evil witch everyone else sees her as? If I hurt someone I love for their own good, or if I take away anyone's dreams because I know it's a fool's journey to do so… could I forgive myself? Could I live knowing that out of everyone in this world, I am the only one by her side?

Beat. PYRRHA slowly lowers her hands and reveals the ribbon to the audience. She laughs and sobs as the lights dim and the curtains close.

END.

Rui didn't want to keep tooting his own horn, but he felt this to be his magnum opus. He dropped hints of a ribbon that Pyrrha once owned from her father, but it went missing after she died. The finale was a silent revelation that the box her mother entrusted to her had already been opened by someone in the family that stole her ribbon. Evil was released into the world long before she knew it.

The playscript came out to be his most resounding success online, proven by how he had to mute his notifications at a certain point. It didn't matter because he spent the next few days rereading every single comment left behind.

ca5t_astray: pyrrhas grandpa needs to GO bro, im sobbingh pyrrhaaa my baby you deserved better :(((

dua_alis: pyrrha's last monologue was so chilling. i genuinely don't know if pandora is good or not, she did ruin her husband's life and stop pyrrha's brother from going to college but what her dad did to her was sickening. i think he was the one that stole pyrrha's ribbon and left it in the box in place of what pandora left behind for pyrrha because he's the only one that's sadistic enough to do that but man… what if it was her brother?? i can't express enough how much i love this, you did pandora's box absolute justice

iaminurwalls: DID PYRRHA DIE??? you cant do this to me you cnat do thsi t ome AURGRHJ IMIN TERASSS

Netizens were truly the most interesting society he's ever come across. A lot of their lingo was acquired from constant exposure, which included abbreviations for faster typing and letter spam to evoke a sense of confusion and overwhelming emotion. It wasn't much different from his scriptwriting as he also broke grammatical rules to convey specific emotions in his characters.

To think it's been roughly over a month since he's begun posting his scripts online, and he was actually looking forward to every waking day with a bright excitement he never knew he missed. What if for his next work, he could mess with the website's coding rather than just the script's HTML code to change the theming of his posts to suit the theme of the play? He did see an interesting text message design floating around, so he wanted to write a show where he could put that to use.

Speaking of his posts, he's made about… 21 of them? Most were just copy and pastes of his drafts that he refined to full-fledged one acts of varying lengths, but the longer scripts were the ones inspired by Nightcord's music. He couldn't help it! Their music just motivated him to the point he didn't get an ounce of sunlight for an entire week writing through 'Cluster in the Night Sky!' It did concern his parents a smidge, but he cleared it up by explaining how he wanted his next guerilla show to be as spontaneous as possible. He hasn't placed a date on the calendar strewn somewhere in his workshop on when he would perform his next guerilla show, though.

'Cluster in the Night Sky' was staring at him as he scrolled through it in admiration, and at the very end, he was greeted with a bittersweet message he wrote after the play's end.

For a friend in solitude.

He didn't realize how much he missed Mizuki and Nene's presence until he finished writing 'Cluster in the Night Sky' and had nothing but tears in his eyes as memories of those days on the rooftop blended with the childish joys of the playground. It was nice having such positive reception online to his obnoxious ideas, but it didn't compare to having someone willing to listen to its early stages up until the final product. If they were in the same grade, maybe he would have given Nene's troupe another chance. Even then, he knew he'd be skipping all of his high school classes just to spend time with Mizuki on the rooftop.

Ah, right. He slumped in his chair. High school classes. Shinjuku Academy's year started just about… two weeks ago? The entrance ceremony was nothing special, and his class was filled with many unknown faces. Didn't he have an introductory project due tomorrow? It was just fundamentals, which he knew like the back of his hand, but did he have to work on it? He could build a text display with his eyes closed, he doesn't need a whole night to finish it.