Chapter Text
Bells of the temple
Ring to chase away the ghosts
The sun hides her face.
…
The cat casts a spell
He gives his house victory
A two-tailed curse.
A red-haired boy of ten years old sat at his desk, with tears blurring his eyes. He didn’t want to do this anymore. The books were piled around him. No matter how fast he worked, there was always more to do. More reading, more essays, more practice and projects and compositions.
It all had to be perfect. If he made any mistakes, he would just get even more work.
His tutors weren’t cruel, far from it. They praised him constantly, reminding him that their assignments were much more difficult than what the other boys his age were learning. He was gifted, they all said. Brilliant. A credit to his very honorable and prestigious family. Somehow, that didn’t make him happy.
Deep down, he knew it would never really be enough.
He choked back a sob, as he buried his head in his arms. He was tired. And he was lonely, so unbearably lonely. He didn’t have a single real friend his age. He spent almost all of his waking hours in school, or with his tutors at home. His father was always busy with work, and lately he seemed even busier. Whenever they did speak, his father would ask about his studies, than sternly tell him to keep working.
And his mother was gone, now…
He cried harder and harder, until the tears dripped down and smudged his paper. His chest hurt, badly, and his head hurt too. He just wanted to give up. There had to be a way to give up, didn't there? Some way to escape all of this…
“I’ll stay with you.”
Akashi blinked through the stinging tears. The voice was familiar.
“I’ll stay with you,” it said again.“I’m right here. It’s going to be fine.”
It sounded a lot like his own voice, Akashi noticed. Like it was coming from inside his head. But at the same time, it felt separate too. He wasn’t controlling it at all.
Which shouldn’t have been possible, but… It didn’t frighten him. It felt natural, somehow. The truth was, he had been talking with this voice for a while.
“You do know me. You can even see me, if you want.”
Akashi closed his eyes. He tried to look into his thoughts, or maybe recreate some kind of memory. But everything in his mind was simply blank. He could picture himself, alone in that darkness. That was easy, because it was how he felt right now. But no one was there with him.
His eyes were starting to water again. Then, someone touched him. It was like a light tap, something inside his mind, to catch his attention.
A little boy stood in the imaginary darkness beside him. He looked just like Akashi, except one of his eyes was lighter than the other. The boy smiled.
“You see? I’m here,” he said. His voice was brisk, and matter-of-fact. “We can be together all the time. As much as you want.”
Akashi stared at the other version of himself, disbelieving. He came closer, reaching out to take the boy’s hand. When they connected, it didn’t feel like a physical touch. It was more like a sensation of warmth, of unexpected completeness, that radiated through him.
“You’ll be all right now,” the boy said. “I’m going to help you.”
At that, Akashi couldn’t help bursting into tears again. The boy looked confused, but he put his arms around Akashi, holding him firmly.
“You’ll be all right,” he said again. “We both will. Everything’s going to be fine.”
His final words shimmered in the dark, like the spark of hope they were.
“I promise.”
Everything was going to be fine.
Akashi Seijuurou was doing his absolute best to convince himself of this. He had begun his efforts on the previous night, then persisted in them through many hours of sleeplessness, until it was well past dawn. It was common for him to get a minimal amount of sleep, so he didn’t feel particularly tired.
What he did feel, however, was nervous.
Akashi gazed out his bedroom window at the brightening Tokyo sky. He tried to measure his breaths, to keep them slow and even. He had learned this technique a while ago, as a way to mask any discomfort during public speaking. He hadn’t used it for that purpose in quite some time. Still, it often proved useful, in cases like this. It reminded him of a similar technique, that a friend of his liked to use.
Akashi took out his phone, and scrolled through the photos. He clicked on one in particular. Furihata Kouki’s face appeared on the screen, beaming up at him.
Somehow, just seeing his best friend’s face helped Akashi relax.
Remember why you’re doing this, he told himself, as he gazed at Furihata’s photo. He slipped his phone into his pocket, and began the lengthy walk through the halls of the Akashi estate.
As he descended the stairs, he came to a startled stop. His father stood at the front door, conversing with Ginhara, the butler of the house. Neither of them looked in Akashi’s direction. Akashi set his jaw, an automatic response. He inched down the stairs, more hesitantly than before.
“Certainly, master,” Ginhara was saying. “Please have a safe journey.”
His father gave a curt nod. His sharp amber gaze darted around the front hall, then landed on Akashi.
Akashi’s spine stiffened, but he forced himself to say, “Good morning, Father.”
“Good morning,” his father said, with no change in expression. Sometimes Akashi struggled to remember if anyone in his family had ever said that greeting with genuine feeling.
Well, besides one person… But she was gone, of course.
“You won’t be coming to breakfast today?” Akashi forced himself to ask, even as he inwardly cringed. The question sounded so inane, and childish in the bargain. But he had his reasons.
For a moment, he considered asking his father permission, for what he was going to do later that morning. But he knew he couldn’t go through with it.
“I have to be in Sendai by this afternoon,” his father said, in place of no. He stared at Akashi for a long moment. “I will let you know when you’re to come to Tokyo again.”
“Yes, Father. Of course.” The words echoed strangely in Akashi’s ears, as though someone else was saying them. But he had come to expect that, whenever he tried to converse with his father.
He was still the one speaking. The days when he would rely on a certain other person to speak in cases like this were over.
His father hovered on the threshold. Which was odd… Usually he would have left in a hurry, after such a direct dismissal. Akashi forced himself to stand still, and wait. As the seconds ticked by, he felt increasingly on edge.
For the past few days, Akashi kept getting the feeling that his father was studying him. They hadn’t spent more than a few hours of time together, but Akashi still sensed that his father was mulling over some issue, debating the merits of discussing it with his son. Which was rare, and likely didn’t bode well.
Now his father was eyeing him again. His icy, focused expression sent a rush of tension through Akashi’s body. The rising discomfort finally prompted him, without any finesse whatsoever, to blurt out, “Will you be coming to Kyoto at all?”
His father’s frown deepened. For a moment, he looked almost confused.
“No,” he said, as though this should have been inherently obvious. Akashi felt his face getting warmer. He had no idea how his father was interpreting this exchange. He had intended to ask that particular question in a much subtler way.
Please don’t guess why, please don’t guess why…
His father was silent, his bladelike eyes narrowed.
“I trust you’ll be able to keep yourself busy,” he said at last. His voice was even sterner than before. “As usual.”
“Yes, Father, absolutely,” Akashi hurried to say, in his most genuine voice. He even managed a small, though uncomfortable, laugh. “Like always.”
Akashi wondered if, to his father, that last part sounded more like a child’s passive attempt at complaining. Not that it would have mattered, if it did.
“Good.” With that, his father headed out the door, toward the black Lexus with bulletproof windows that was bound to be waiting for him.
As soon as he left, Akashi felt his jaw unclench. He braced his hand against the banister, trying to keep his balance. It took him a minute to realize his heart was pounding, beating emphatically against his ribcage.
He couldn’t recall ever trying to lie to his father so directly before.
Ginhara was watching him, with a keen expression. Akashi was careful not to acknowledge this.
“Your breakfast is ready to be served, young master,” Ginhara said.
“Yes, thank you,” Akashi replied. Which was something of a slip—he wasn’t supposed to thank the servants—but it didn’t matter so much, if his father hadn’t heard.
Come to think of it, this particular mistake was understandable… Akashi had been spending most of his time recently with a person who tended to thank everyone he encountered, including Ginhara himself.
Akashi didn’t realize he was smiling slightly, until he noticed Ginhara watching him again. He cleared his throat, trying to loosen it a bit further. “Is Onoda ready to drive me at seven thirty, like we discussed?”
“He is, young master.” The butler gave his customary bow.
“Very good.” With that, Akashi turned and headed toward the dining room. In all honesty, he was relieved. The first thing he needed to do that morning was survive any time spent with his father, however long that proved to be. Now that part was already over.
The second thing he needed to do wasn’t as intimidating. Well, not quite.
It was still early morning when Akashi arrived at a sprawling white building in the Setagaya ward. He instructed his driver to wait, then left the car at a brisk pace. He wasn’t certain where he was headed, but he didn’t want to look lost. Not, at least, until he was inside the facility.
His driver didn’t know why they were there. Akashi had described it merely as an “errand.” With any luck, it seemed like something his father would have instructed him to do. It was far from the first time that Akashi had entered an impressive-looking building, to consult with an elite professional for some purpose related to his family’s empire.
This wasn’t such a case, however. For once, Akashi was doing it purely for himself.
He entered through the sliding glass doors. Summer light streamed into the broad windows, and through the glass ceiling. Akashi stopped to consult a directory, then made his way to the elevators. Three other people boarded the elevator with him. They were dressed in professional clothes, and one man wore a doctor’s coat.
After leaving the elevator, Akashi made his way into a new wing of the building. Eventually, he found a pair of closed doors that led to what looked like a lecture hall. Glancing through the windows, he saw a woman who looked to be in her late thirties, addressing a large group. Akashi didn’t go inside. Instead he stood near the far wall of the hallway, and waited.
To his surprise, only a minute passed before people began streaming out of the room. He felt several looks directed at him, but no one stopped or asked him why he was there. Eventually, the woman came out, lugging a satchel that was overstuffed with folders.
She glanced up. For the briefest instant, her eyes widened behind her glasses. Then her expression fixed itself in a calm, professional smile.
“Are you Akashi-kun?” she asked, as she strode up to him.
“Yes. I am Akashi Seijuurou.” Akashi did an introductory bow, polite but not overly formal. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me so suddenly.”
“Of course.” The woman also bowed, with a little more deference than was normal. Akashi already knew the reason for that. She introduced herself, then gestured down the hall. “I apologize for the unusual setting. Would you mind following me?”
They ended up in a small office, that didn’t seem like it was often used. The woman rearranged some of the furniture, then set her satchel behind a desk. She offered Akashi a seat. Soon they were facing one another, and she had a notebook open.
Akashi clasped his hands in his lap, to keep them still. Most of the time, he didn’t experience any urges to fidget. But he had to admit that in a situation like this, he was out of his element. For once, he had absolutely no idea what was expected of him.
“Normally I would have invited you to my office in Kyoto,” the woman was saying. “Since I was here for a presentation, I thought we could do a consultation in person. You seemed anxious to meet with me.”
“Yes, thank you,” Akashi said. He hesitated, not sure how to begin. “I am sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Not at all.” Her eyes were keen, Akashi noticed. He got the sense that she might be analyzing his behavior already. The thought made his insides twist, in an odd way. “You mentioned this is your first time seeing a professional. How often were you hoping to meet?”
“As often as you recommend. Weekly, if possible.” Akashi felt his fingers winding together, and stilled them. “Or—or more, if you think that would be beneficial.”
She nodded. “And were you planning to come to any future appointments alone as well?”
“Yes,” Akashi said. He tried not to say it too quickly. “I live by myself in Kyoto. I’m attending school there.”
“I see.” Her tone of voice was kind, but her expression was knowing. Akashi suspected that she was debating whether to press the issue.
A pause stretched between them.
“I don’t receive many calls from patients who are looking for first-time treatment,” she said at last. “Most of my patients are referrals, who happen to fall under my areas of expertise. You said that I was your first choice. May I ask why you decided to contact me, Akashi-kun?”
Her voice was even gentler now. Akashi couldn’t help wondering if she thought he was confused or misguided, about seeking her out instead of a general counselor. She probably agreed to see him out of curiosity, because of his family name. Or perhaps she had already guessed the true reason…
Whatever the case, Akashi’s heart was beating a little too hard, as he contemplated his answer. He had never had to say these particular words out loud before.
“I was hoping to see you because of your expertise,” he managed. “I… I have reason to believe I am mentally unwell.”
She nodded patiently. “Can you describe some of the symptoms you’re experiencing? What in particular has you concerned?”
She waited, clearly ready to listen. Akashi knew they were both waiting for the same thing. His mouth felt strangely dry, and his throat too.
“I’ve been living as two people,” he said, finally forcing out the words. “That is, I have an alter. Or alternate self state.”
He wasn’t sure which was the correct term to use. He had always called the second Akashi his “other self.” (Or sometimes, in the privacy of his mind, his younger brother.) He also wasn’t sure how to describe his experiences. Was he supposed to explain his other self as something he was imagining, that he made up in his head? To him, it felt real. As real as subjective consciousness could.
If the psychiatrist was surprised, she didn’t show it. “And as far as you know, you only have two of these alters?”
“Yes.” Akashi hesitated. When he spoke again, his words made the psychiatrist frown, for the first time in their conversation.
“But the other me didn’t want to come here. I don’t think he will cooperate…”
He swallowed, before adding, “He is deeply opposed to either of us seeing you.”
Furihata Kouki was in trouble. Major, serious trouble.
Well, he felt like he was supposed to be? He kept getting this increasing sense of doom, like his whole life was about to go horribly wrong. Except he had no idea why… It probably had something to do with the fact that he was standing inside a gigantic sports arena. The arena was full of people, which meant that at least some of those people were watching him.
Okay, just chill, he told himself. You’re totally fine. You’ve done this before.
Which was true. Furihata had been inside this massive arena plenty of times. Today he was with his basketball team from Seirin, like usual. They were doing their standard warm-up shots on the court before a game, and everything was going to be great.
As far as he knew, he wasn’t even going to play. Wait, was he playing…? Furihata glanced over at his coach, who was on the sidelines shouting a bunch of directions. For some reason, he couldn’t remember what she said about the lineup before the match. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember which match this was, either.
He looked around, trying to figure it out. His teammates were all around him, practicing shots: Hyuuga the captain, and his other senpais. Kagami and Kuroko were there, too, though the phantom sixth man took a few seconds longer to find. Kawahara and Fukuda weren’t there. They were probably on a quick errand to get more water or something.
Who are we playing? Furihata wasn’t sure if he said it out loud or not, but nobody answered. He turned to the other side of the court, where the opposing team was warming up. And instantly, he knew. He would have recognized those immaculate white jackets with pale blue letters anywhere.
RAKUZAN
Something inside Furihata gave a weird leap. It wasn’t from fear or nerves, though. Obviously, Rakuzan was the scariest team they could be playing. But if Rakuzan was here, then that meant someone else Furihata knew was here, too. Someone he cared about, who was his closest friend in the entire world.
A pale jacket sleeve fluttered in his peripheral vision. Sure enough, there he was: Akashi Seijuurou, second-year captain of Rakuzan. (Not to mention student council president, and their all-around superstar.) Furihata felt another weird, giddy thrill when he realized Akashi was walking right toward him.
Half a year ago, Furihata never would have thought a guy like Akashi Seijuurou would talk to him, for any reason. Now Akashi was gliding straight up to him. He had that happy smile on his face, the one Furihata knew so well.
“Hello, Furihata-kun.” Akashi’s voice was smooth and calm, like always.
“Hey.” Furihata fiddled with the basketball he held. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Wait, did that even make sense to say…? Furihata was strangely conscious of the fact that his teammates were glancing in their direction. By now, they all knew he was friends with Akashi, but they’d never seen the two of them talk like this in person.
“I hope you’re prepared for our match,” Akashi said. His red hair looked even brighter than usual, under the towering stadium lights.
Furihata grinned. “Yeah, of course!” He still didn’t remember if he was playing or not. But if it was a Rakuzan match, he definitely wouldn’t let himself chicken out. He really wanted to play against Akashi again, now that they were friends.
They were still talking, when something flitted past Furihata’s eye. He looked again, and there it was… A tiny sphere of light hovered just above his head. It moved in a weird way, that struck him as familiar. He couldn’t place it, though.
He wanted to ask if Akashi saw the light too. But Akashi was walking over to the sidelines, and Furihata hurried to follow him. By then, Furihata had lost track of the light. Maybe he just imagined it.
They were still talking, but Furihata had trouble following the conversation. Akashi was smiling at him again. His eyes were sparkling, beneath his long lashes.
“Well, best of luck,” Akashi said, suddenly.
He drew Furihata into a hug. Furihata gave a startled jolt… They’d hugged before, but not really in front of other people. Akashi didn’t seem self-conscious at all, though.
Furihata returned the hug, without really thinking. Akashi felt so good to hold. They were basically the same height, but Akashi’s body was a lot more toned. More perfect.
Akashi’s expression softened, and his eyelids lowered slightly. His face was so close, Furihata realized. Suddenly it felt like everything around them was pounding. Was it the basketballs bouncing on the court behind them, or just his heartbeat…?
Akashi leaned in, with his beautiful smile, and their lips met.
Akashi brushed his parted mouth against Furihata’s, over and over. Furihata kissed Akashi right back. He couldn’t help it, it felt too amazing. He started to feel like he was floating. His arms snaked around Akashi’s waist, while Akashi’s palms pressed against his shoulder blades. They pulled closer together, and closer.
Akashi tugged lightly on Furihata’s warmup shirt. The next thing Furihata knew, he was on his back on the nearest bench. Akashi was kneeling over him, and they were still kissing. Their lips were moving so fast that Furihata forgot to breathe. Or maybe he couldn’t breathe at all, he wasn’t sure. He was starting to feel like he was going to explode.
“Ahh—Akashi-kun—”
He barely sputtered out the name before Akashi’s lips were caressing his mouth again. Meanwhile, Furihata was starting to remember that they were still inside a crowded stadium. Everyone was there—their teammates, rivals, parents, complete strangers—and the two of them were just lying on a bench, out in the open, kissing each other like they couldn’t stop.
Akashi’s jacket was slipping down. It finally fell from his sculpted shoulders, draping over one of Furihata’s knees. Furihata’s feet were resting on the hardwood, twitching. His warmup shirt was hiking up, and Akashi’s fingers were tangled firmly in his hair. And it felt good, so good…
It was weirdly quiet now. Everyone had to be looking. They had to be, at these two random guys who were making out, right there in public. Nobody did that in Japan. Especially not two high school boys, right before a basketball game.
Furihata was starting to panic. They couldn’t do this, they couldn’t… Everyone was going to see. Everyone in the world was going to know how he really felt about Akashi, about his best friend in the whole world…
Another tiny light passed over Furihata’s head, gleaming in the corner of his eye.
Then he jolted so hard that he finally woke up.
Furihata stuffed his face into his pillow, and let out a loud groan. Now that he was conscious, his heart was fluttering like crazy. Sunlight glowed around the edges of his bedroom window. He wasn’t surprised when he looked over at the clock and realized he was awake early. As in, super early. He pressed both hands to his face, squirmed, and groaned again.
God, he hated this.
He took a deep breath, trying to ignore how the blood was pounding through his body. Or how his stomach was doing backflips. Or the million other reactions he couldn’t control, that he recognized way too well.
Most of all, Furihata tried not to remember anything from the dream. Like Akashi’s face, hovering so close to his, or the way their bodies were pressed together, with just their loose warm-up clothes between them…
Furihata took a long draught from the glass of water on his nightstand. Then, on second thought, he splashed some of it on his face.
Okay. That was a lot better.
He sighed and got out of bed, drying his face with the front of his shirt. Since he was awake, he might as well get dressed. It was still summer vacation, so it wasn’t like he had school. But it was better than going back to sleep.
Better than risking another dream like that, he couldn’t help thinking.
It was no big deal, Furihata reminded himself. It was just a dream. Dreams didn’t have to mean anything… They were just weird unconscious parts of his brain, that were thinking totally random thoughts for no reason. Like about kissing Akashi. Some part of his brain was really stuck on that idea, ever since a few nights ago.
Sure, the first time he dreamed about it, he freaked out. But that was just him overreacting, right? Furihata was sixteen. Of course he was going to dream about kissing people. All kinds of people. He’d dreamed about kissing a bunch of different girls from his class, even a few he didn’t really like that way. Back when he used to have a girlfriend, he had this one dream about making out with another girl, and felt horrible afterward. But it wasn’t like he could control it.
It was probably totally normal to dream about kissing your best friend. Wasn’t it? Everyone probably did at some point, just by accident. Like you would be talking to them in a dream, because you talked to them all the time, but then some weird hormone switch would get flipped, and bam—kissing, for no reason.
It didn’t mean Furihata had a crush on Akashi, or anything. Definitely not. He’d only had a few dreams like that.
Like, three or four. In a week.
Furihata winced, trying to focus on pulling his damp shirt over his head. He was halfway undressed, when a soft buzz sounded. It took him a few seconds to realize it was his phone. He had to dig through the blankets on his bed to find it.
When he flipped the phone open, his pulse immediately started to skip.
From: Akashi-kun
He hurried to open the message.
Good morning. I very much enjoyed our time together yesterday—as well as our late-night discussion.
Furihata was already smiling. Akashi had to be the only person on earth who sent messages like this. He talked the same way: courteous, and well-spoken. Furihata liked it, because he knew it meant Akashi felt free to be himself.
Akashi probably wasn’t expecting a reply this early. So Furihata eagerly typed a message back. Same! Hope you’re having a good morning too.
By the time he finished getting dressed, the phone buzzed again. He felt weirdly light, as he went to grab it.
It’s going well, thank you. Though I’m sure I would find it far better if you were here.
Furihata stared at the screen, as a familiar feeling bloomed inside his chest. It was warm, but also kind of painful… He didn’t know how to describe it, except he had only ever felt this way around Akashi.
Furihata had recently realized just how much he cared about his new best friend. They were always talking, and hanging out as much as they possibly could. Furihata never got tired of it, even though he was usually such an introvert and needed time alone. The weirdest part was, Akashi had told him that he felt the exact same way.
Furihata never had a friendship on this level before. He never even knew that friends could act like this with each other. He didn’t know if it was weird, or just really rare, or what.
But he knew that he treasured it more than pretty much anything.
He glanced at the damp t-shirt on the floor, and swallowed. Before he could tell himself again that a dumb dream didn’t matter, his phone buzzed a third time.
Since I’m returning to Kyoto tomorrow, would you like to spend the evening together? You could stay the night, if you’d like.
Furihata blinked. He almost couldn’t believe Akashi was inviting him over. They had slept at each other’s houses for the first time earlier that week, and it was… intense. They hung out after that, whenever they could sneak it into Akashi’s super-busy schedule. But Furihata hadn’t stayed at Akashi’s house again. Not yet.
He kind of wondered if the subtext behind this particular message, and its timing, really meant, “My father won’t know, if we do it tonight.”
Akashi had never talked to his dad about that first visit, as far as Furihata knew. And Furihata still hadn't met him, except for a glimpse in the middle of the night. Furihata forced himself not to contemplate Akashi’s dad too much. Instead, he typed his reply, as fast as he could so he wouldn’t overthink it.
Yeah, of course! That sounds great. When can I come over?
As he waited for Akashi’s answer, Furihata couldn’t help noticing that his stomach was doing flips again. He didn’t know why he was suddenly nervous. Earlier that week, he would have been overjoyed to spend the night at Akashi’s place. And he still was, for the most part. Even though he had found out that Akashi’s house was kind of intimidating and creepy, and his dad was genuinely terrifying…
Those things didn’t bother Furihata. Not enough to keep him away, at least. Spending time with his amazing friend was more than worth it.
But as Furihata glanced over at his unmade bed, his dream raced through his mind again. He shook his head, frustrated. He just hoped his stupid brain would be normal for a night, and not make him think about anything weird. Like, say, kissing his best friend.
Because he definitely didn’t want to do that.
It wasn’t like he had a crush on him, or anything.
Seijuurou strode purposefully through the darkness of his mind.
It was his mind, for all intents and purposes. True, he shared it with his other self—his elder brother, who had two red eyes, and who everyone seemed to believe was the “real” Akashi, to various extents.
Presumably, this was due to the fact that his brother had spent far more time in control of their shared body. As a result, more people had known him first. (Well, as much as anyone really knew either of them, of course.)
Also, it was infinitely easier for most people to validate the existence of “nice” and “kind” individuals, than to do the same for someone like Seijuurou. For the moment, though, that inconvenient truth was neither here nor there.
Seijuurou rarely traveled directly through the darkness like this. It was too difficult to make any headway, when every part of it looked so similar. Instead, he would allow himself to simply drift through this vast, unexplored section of his mind, unaware of anything around him, or what was happening in the outside world. It was like he was asleep, more or less.
It was the closest he could come, at least for a while, to not existing.
Originally, Seijuurou had avoided this place as much as possible. Once upon a time, he preferred to spend the bulk of his existence in the more conscious part of his brain, keeping his other self company, and seeing everything that he was seeing. For a long time, that was the only form of life that Seijuurou knew.
Then, for two years, he took his brother’s place. He controlled their body, while his brother slept inside the darkness. For the first time, Seijuurou learned what living in the outside world, being fully present in a human body, really felt like.
Of course then he had fucked it all up, in a truly spectacular and irredeemable fashion. So none of that mattered anymore.
Seijuurou halted, peering into the void that stretched before him. He couldn’t be certain, but this part of his mind seemed vaster somehow, as though the darkness had dropped out into a bottomless chasm. Sometimes, Seijuurou would glimpse fleeting images in this place, accompanied by misty, ephemeral shapes. Whenever he focused on them, they would instantly vanish. It was deeply irritating.
When he and his other self were much younger, Seijuurou had regarded this part of his mind as tumultuous, and terrifying. The shadowy images would writhe and churn like fog, and there was a great deal of noise. But for the past few years, the darkness had grown calmer, and almost completely silent.
Now, as Seijuurou gazed into the void, he could see that the shadows were starting to churn again. Amid the rising chaos, he heard a familiar sound.
He grimaced, as the sobbing echoed in the distance. These cries were usually small and muffled, when they were there at all. But for some reason, Seijuurou had always found them difficult to ignore.
He hadn’t noticed the crying in a few years. He thought perhaps it had disappeared for good. Now it was returning.
Which was almost certainly his idiotic brother’s fault.
Seijuurou couldn’t understand what had possessed his other self lately. He kept doing the most absurd, incomprehensible things. Apparently, he still wasn’t content with his life, despite the fact that he had regained all his friends from middle school. He had easily befriended his Rakuzan teammates as well. Everything ought to have been perfectly fine in his happy little world, for the past several months.
But no, instead he kept sulking and fretting about who-knew-what. Every time Seijuurou ventured to regain consciousness, he would find his brother upset again, lost in some fresh and largely self-imposed emotional wreckage. It was all very familiar, like the Teikou days. Which was the last thing either of them needed.
Still, his older brother’s constant friendship crises and tendency to succumb to his emotions were nothing new. And regardless, Seijuurou had intended to stay out of it. His brother had matured since middle school, and he understood how to relate to others. Certainly more than Seijuurou ever did, or would.
But then Furihata Kouki came along. Now everything was slowly but inexorably spiraling out of control.
Seijuurou didn’t understand it. Why had his brother gone out of his way to befriend this Furihata person? Misplaced guilt aside, he was so ordinary. Seijuurou simply couldn’t fathom what his brother found appealing about such a timid, weak individual. Now they were spending all their time together, cozying up at every possible opportunity, to the point that it was actually a bit nauseating.
Not that it mattered. In the end, Seijuurou couldn’t care less about his brother’s odd tastes, or this bizarrely intimate “friendship” he insisted on forming. What did matter, however, was that his brother was starting to take far too many risks.
Really, what had gotten into that idiot? They both agreed long ago that they’d never expose any of their true friends to their home life. They agreed to never defy their father, especially not in ways he might discover later on. Now his brother was inviting the Furihata boy to their Tokyo home, without bothering to get their father’s approval. Not to mention he was actively seeking therapy.
Seijuurou grimaced, as the crying in the distance grew louder. His other self had no idea, absolutely no idea, what he was doing. And the consequences could prove dire.
Deep within the darkness, a silhouette flickered into view. Seijuurou squinted, trying to see, but he couldn’t make out anything except the general shape. It seemed to be human, and very small. It soon vanished, chased away by one of the other shadows.
The second shadow was clearly a woman. Seijuurou had encountered her before, but he could never decipher her face, only the hazy outline of her dress. Where her features were supposed to be, there was only blankness. He stared her down, unfazed. She shrank away, and disappeared.
The hiss of running water had joined the constant crying. Seijuurou never understood that particular noise’s presence here. It seemed so innocuous. There was a less mundane noise too, that was harder to hear over the others…
It sounded like a strange, high-pitched growl.
His older brother didn’t know about any of this. Of that much, Seijuurou was certain. He was equally certain that his brother would be incapable of dealing with it properly. Which meant he was going to have to handle it himself, one way or another.
There was something in here, hiding inside the massive darkness of their mind, that they had both forgotten. Seijuurou wasn’t altogether certain how, or why.
But whatever it was, it was dangerous enough to utterly destroy them.
Akashi didn’t quite understand why his head was aching.
This wasn’t an entirely unusual phenomenon, of course. His overbooked schedule, along with all the reading required for his private lessons, more or less guaranteed that he would suffer the occasional tension headache. But this week had been far less stressful for him than most. He took multiple days off, and even cancelled some of his lessons in secret.
As a matter of fact, everything about the week had been exceptionally pleasant, as far as Akashi was concerned.
He glanced down at his phone, and smiled. He was scrolling through a long list of messages, all the different conversations he and Furihata had over the past several days. Which was especially remarkable, given that they were also visiting each other in person on a daily basis.
Akashi sighed. He would certainly miss seeing Furihata, now that he had to return to Kyoto for basketball practice. It was a shame, especially since they were both still on summer vacation. As much as Akashi enjoyed basketball, he would have preferred to spend as much time with his best friend as he possibly could.
Best friend. That phrase still left Akashi feeling strangely in awe.
Another ache burst behind his forehead. Akashi took a moment to rub his face, trying his best to release any tension there. He certainly didn’t want to be feeling unwell when Furihata arrived.
He was drinking another cup of tea, hoping the caffeine would help, when he heard the front door creak. Instantly, he was on his feet. He rushed toward the front hall.
He arrived just as his valet, Takeda, was escorting a familiar figure inside. And there he was… Furihata stood on the landing, handing Takeda an overnight bag. He wore a cheerful, relaxed expression. Akashi had just seen him the previous day. Somehow, though, his presence instantly lifted Akashi’s mood. Akashi wasn’t sure why, exactly, but…
He found himself thinking Furihata was a sight for sore eyes. Literally, in this case.
As Akashi hurried up to the door, Furihata turned. His friendly features immediately brightened. “Hey, Akashi-kun!”
Takeda excused himself, as Akashi stepped onto the landing. “Good afternoon. I’m glad you were able to come today.”
“Yeah, of course,” Furihata said, in that meek-but-warm way that Akashi found so endearing. “I’m glad too.”
They were standing beside each other now. Akashi studied his friend, to see if he appeared hot or fatigued. Furihata lived in Tokyo, but it was still something of a trek to Akashi’s neighborhood. “And how are you doing? Well, I hope?”
“Yup,” Furihata said, in an easy tone. He hesitated, then frowned a little. “Are you okay? You look kind of tired.”
Akashi chuckled. He still didn’t understand how Furihata was the one person in his life who consistently noticed the changes in his emotional and physical state.
“I’m perfectly fine,” he said. Which was true, as far as he was concerned. He could hardly feel the headache anymore.
He had a strange impulse to take Furihata’s hand. Though perhaps it wasn’t so strange… They had done such things before, and they had more than enough privacy at the moment, to show that level of affection. Upon second thought, Akashi drew Furihata into a full-blown hug instead.
“Especially now that I’m with you,” he murmured softly, beside his friend’s ear.
He tightened his hold, wrapping his arms all the way around Furihata’s shoulders. Then something odd happened. For just a moment, Akashi could have sworn that Furihata went a bit… stiff, somehow. It was almost like a feeling, something deep inside Furihata that Akashi sensed, more than anything in his actual posture.
Whatever it was, it was already gone, as Furihata relaxed into the embrace and hugged him back.
Akashi shut his eyes, enjoying the feeling of closeness. He could have stayed there for quite some time. But after a few moments, he forced himself to let go. As he met Furihata’s gaze, he was surprised to discover that his friend’s face was visibly rosy.
“I’m sorry, did I embarrass you? That wasn’t my intention.”
“No,” Furihata blurted, in a way that Akashi found charming. The blush on his face deepened, inching up toward his forehead. “Not really, it’s just… You’re being really nice, that’s all.”
“I’m only speaking the truth,” Akashi said, with a fond smile.
Furihata’s mouth melted into a grin, as though he couldn’t help mirroring him. “Yeah. I know.”
He reached out and took Akashi’s hand, giving it a solid squeeze. Akashi felt a twinge of relief, despite himself. This type of friendship was still so new to him. He couldn’t help but worry on occasion, about the possibility of making some misstep. He never wanted to go too far, to cause Furihata to feel awkward or uncomfortable.
Whenever he started to worry, however, Furihata would do something that reassured him. He would take Akashi’s hand, or walk closer beside him. And Akashi would realize yet again that as much as he wanted to be close to Furihata, Furihata seemed to want the same thing from him, as well.
Furihata was always so genuine, when they were together. It made Akashi feel secure, and safe. These were not emotions he was accustomed to feeling. He couldn’t help but treasure this, for the precious gift it was.
“Well, how should we spend the evening?” he asked Furihata. “I was having tea in the library just now, if you happened to be interested in joining me.”
Furihata’s grin widened. “Uh, do you seriously have to ask?”
“I assume that’s meant as a yes.”
Akashi led the way down the hall. His chest felt oddly light, as he noticed Furihata’s eager pace. He felt lighter still when they entered the library, and he witnessed the familiar sparkle in Furihata’s eyes.
The library had always been one of Akashi’s favorite rooms in his family’s Tokyo house. But he liked it even more, now that he knew how much his dearest friend enjoyed it. As they hunted among the shelves for books to read, Akashi found himself wishing that Furihata could come and visit the library as often as he wished. Every day, even, if he wanted.
Furihata settled into one of the overstuffed sofas, and waved for Akashi to join him. For a moment, Akashi imagined what it would be like to find Furihata already there, waiting for him, whenever he came to Tokyo.
He wasn’t quite prepared for the way his heart panged at the thought.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Furihata asked, as Akashi sat down beside him.
Akashi blinked, startled. “Yes, of course.”
“Right.” Furihata sounded apologetic. “You just seem kind of quiet.”
Akashi leaned toward the tea tray. Carefully, he prepared a new cup, pouring the rich amber liquid from a gilded teapot. He handed the steaming cup to Furihata, before picking up his own.
“I really am fine,” he said. He sat a little closer to Furihata, letting himself relax into the intimacy of setting. “It’s very kind of you, to be concerned.”
Furihata nodded thoughtfully. Then his expression shifted, into a bashful half-smile. “I don’t know if it’s that kind. You’re my friend, you know? But you’re welcome.”
As they sipped their tea, they began to sift through the gathered pile of books. Absently, Akashi wondered why Furihata didn’t seem to understand how rare his compassion really was. True, it was natural to care for one’s friends—that much, at least, Akashi knew firsthand—but in his experience, it was unusual to express it so freely, to take such obvious care to inquire after their well-being.
Perhaps Akashi didn’t have enough experience with friendship yet. Or it was possible that his own guardedness and self-sufficiency had hindered his other friends from expressing these things in the past. But…
Even so, he was fairly certain that Furihata Kouki was a remarkably kind person.
This was one reason why Akashi found himself saying, as he set another book aside, “I had an appointment this morning.”
Furihata glanced up from a comically large volume. He seemed to be perusing it more for the old-fashioned illustrations than anything else. “Yeah? For what?” He hurried to add, “I mean, you don’t have to answer. If it’s private.”
Akashi chuckled. His arm was resting on the back of the couch. He leaned his head against his hand, as he gazed at Furihata.
“I know. I wanted to tell you,” he said. “I’m seeing a psychiatrist.”
Furihata’s eyes widened, even more so than usual. “Really?”
Just like that, he was setting the book down. He inched closer, as a feeling of gratified warmth spread through Akashi. He had expected Furihata to be interested, since they recently discussed this particular subject for the first time. But Akashi hadn’t realized how much it would mean to him, that Furihata seemed to understand the significance of this development.
Somehow, it made him feel far less… alone.
“That’s really great,” Furihata said, in his genuine way. “How’d it go? Was it okay?”
Akashi nodded. “It was only the first meeting, so we didn’t go into much depth. But she seemed very knowledgeable. And we agreed to start regular treatment.”
“That’s good. And you like her?” Furihata paused. “I mean, she makes you feel comfortable and everything?”
Akashi hesitated. He understood the theoretical importance of that question, but he wasn’t certain how to answer it.
“I believe so,” he said at last. “I obviously don’t know her. But she seemed courteous, and professional.”
He was less certain how to say the second part out loud, or if he even should… “I never feel wholly comfortable around others, save for a few rare people. Like you.”
Furihata’s expression was sympathetic. “I’m glad. It can be pretty awkward the first time. But it gets a lot easier—or at least, it did for me.”
He clasped Akashi’s free hand, and gave it a squeeze. Akashi returned the gesture. He was continually surprised by how soothing he found his friend’s touch.
“Does she know about the dissociation, and all that stuff?” Furihata asked. “Or did you even get to that yet?”
Akashi gazed down at their joined hands. It still felt so strange, to be speaking out loud about his mental state like this. “Briefly. I decided to contact her based on her expertise in that area.”
Furihata smiled. “I should’ve guessed. Sounds like it’ll be helpful, then.”
“I hope so,” Akashi said, with full sincerity. That was the one thing he wanted, after all—to get whatever help he needed, to become a better, healthier person. To learn how to avoid his own worst tendencies.
He was starting to understand that he couldn’t afford to do otherwise.
“She did say I appear to meet many of the criteria for those disorders,” he added. “Though we weren’t able to go into specifics. I may need to give some of her questions more thought.”
Akashi furrowed his brows, as he recalled it. For the most part, the conversation wasn’t as uncomfortable as he feared—but he was surprised at his own uncertainty, at how to describe various things. He had long sensed that the way he experienced consciousness would sound strange to other people. But he never fully realized how difficult it would be to articulate, or even understand, some parts of it himself.
“Do you experience gaps in the memory of your day-to-day life? That is to say, do you ever find that you’ve done something without recalling it, or you black out and regain consciousness somewhere else?”
Akashi already knew that this was a criterion for Dissociative Identity Disorder. It was the symptom that always gave him the most pause, because he couldn’t decide if it accurately described his own case or not.
He didn’t recall losing track of events against his will. But there used to be many instances where he would let himself drift away, on one level or another. He would lose a few minutes of time, while his brother would talk in his place.
Did that really count, however? And then, on the other hand, could he ever know for certain if he remembered everything…?
“I don’t believe so. But there are times I have let my—my alter speak for me. And when we switch places, I can choose to stop being aware of my surroundings.”
The psychiatrist wrote this down, and said they would discuss it in more depth later. She seemed surprised, when Akashi explained that his other self had been in full control of his body only once, for a period of multiple years. She went on to tell him that a complete diagnosis would take time. Then she broached the subject that Akashi dreaded most.
“If you do work with me, I would want to discuss your past with you, particularly your early childhood. This tends to be a crucial period for those who experience a pattern of dissociation. From what we know, it very often stems from sustained forms of trauma, or neglect.”
Akashi forced himself to explain that his mother died when he was ten. He always considered that to be the first genuinely traumatic experience in his life. He also recalled recognizing that he had another self around that period. The psychiatrist agreed that it likely played a role in his disorder’s progression. Then she said…
“Typically, the most formative trauma occurs before age nine. But we would explore all of the possible influences, to help you better understand the root issue.”
This confused Akashi. He had a strict upbringing, obviously. But particularly when his mother was alive, he wouldn’t have characterized it as “traumatic.” “Privileged” seemed far more appropriate. Still, he knew that psychotherapy sessions often involved discussing a patient’s childhood, to determine how their psyche developed. So it couldn’t hurt, he supposed.
Akashi had to admit that it would be a struggle, to talk about such personal subjects with a stranger. But it was well worth it, he reminded himself. As long as he became a more stable, reliable person in the end.
Back in the present, Furihata was quiet, watching him. Akashi had expected him to ask more questions about the session, but he seemed hesitant to broach Akashi’s privacy. Which Akashi appreciated, deeply. He trusted his friend enough to tell him what he wanted to know. But it was still difficult, at times.
Furihata gave their intertwined fingers a soft squeeze.
“So was it kind of a relief, when she said that?” he asked. “Or was it just something you already knew?”
Akashi considered the question. He hadn’t processed any particular emotional reaction to the appointment, apart from nervousness. For some reason, his head was starting to ache a bit again. “Closer to the latter, I suppose.”
Furihata nodded. “Are you going to see her every week? Is her office around here?”
“Her main office is based in Kyoto,” Akashi said. “So I’ll be able to see her two times a week, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh.” Furihata’s expression flickered, before he added in a cheerful voice, “Well, that’s good.”
Akashi studied Furihata. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m fine.” Furihata sounded sheepish. “Sorry. I just, uh… It’s pretty dumb? I was just kind of hoping you’d have a reason to visit Tokyo more.”
Akashi softened. He leaned closer to Furihata, until their foreheads were nearly touching. “I would have liked that as well.”
Their linked fingers were resting against his chest. Furihata laughed a little, but he looked wistful. “I really wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow. You stayed a whole week, but it’s like you just got here.”
“I feel the same,” Akashi said, honestly. He couldn’t recall a week ever passing so quickly for him before. “Have you given any thought to visiting me in Kyoto? I need to attend practice, but we’re still on vacation otherwise.”
He couldn’t help but smile, at the idea of Furihata visiting him. They hadn’t been in Kyoto together for months—at a rather pivotal and early stage in their friendship. It would be nice to show Furihata around his family estate there, since it was the place Akashi considered his true home. And also…
“I promised to show you Gion at nighttime,” he added. “You never did take me up on that offer.”
Furihata’s face lit up immediately, to Akashi’s delight. “Oh yeah! I totally forgot. Yeah, that’d be great. Um, so… I have practice too. But I have a half-day coming up, I think? And I could probably skip the day after, if I want. I’ll check with my coach tomorrow.”
“All right. Though I don’t want to get you in any trouble.”
Furihata shook his head. “A bunch of people had to take days off for vacation. I didn’t miss any. So I’m pretty sure one is fine.”
“I’m glad,” Akashi said. He added, in a more playful tone, “And it’s good that you’ve been so diligent. I hope you’re prepared for a rematch.”
“Obviously.” Furihata was grinning, like before. Then an odd expression crossed his face. It was gone in an instant, and Akashi wasn’t sure how to describe it, but he was certain it was there. It somehow reminded him of that moment in the front hall, when they shared a hug.
He didn’t understand why. Did it have something to do with him leaving?
“In any case, we still have the rest of the evening together,” he noted, hoping to reassure his friend. “And you’re welcome to stay in my room later on, if you like.”
He said this in a slightly hushed voice. Akashi had instructed the household staff to prepare a guest room for Furihata, like they did on his last overnight visit. But on that night, for various reasons, Furihata had ended up sleeping in Akashi’s bed instead. The truth was, they had both preferred that outcome. They wanted to spend as much time together as possible, rather than sleeping in separate rooms.
Akashi wasn’t sure how the servants would react, to instructions that he and Furihata would be sharing his bed. But either way, there was no reason to tell anyone. Such an arrangement was just between the two of them.
Akashi didn’t care if it was unusual. Just like he didn’t care if their friendship was unusual. He treasured it far too much.
He treasured it enough, frankly, to do just about anything. No matter what sort of risk it might pose—to him, or to anything else he prioritized. The feeling was a heady one, and deeply unfamiliar.
“Oh, okay! Um. Sure.” Furihata looked wide-eyed again. (Or, well, more so.) His voice lowered too, as he added, “Yeah, that’d be nice. If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Akashi couldn't help noticing that his friend had gone a bit pink. That didn’t exactly surprise him. The truth was, he felt slightly flustered himself. The suggestion was unusual enough—and forward enough, in a sense—that a certain degree of self-consciousness was understandable.
Still, Furihata clearly wanted to accept the offer, for the same reason Akashi had made it. So Akashi didn’t regret broaching the subject.
But as he observed Furihata, something else began to concern him. Something he hadn’t noticed in his friend’s behavior, until now. Akashi didn’t understand the source of it—but it was something he never wanted to cause, for any reason.
He could have sworn that Furihata seemed almost, well…
Anxious.
Just don’t be weird, Furihata told himself for the thousandth time.
Okay, it wasn’t the thousandth time. Or even close, actually… For the most part, Furihata was trying not to think about anything related to his own weirdness at all. Which seemed to be working, so he was going with that, as much as possible.
But now that he was climbing into Akashi’s gigantic canopy bed, he was getting nervous again. And he couldn’t help it.
Furihata wanted to stay in Akashi’s room again. He really did. But until Akashi made the offer, he hadn’t fully considered the possibility, or what might happen because of it… They would probably talk for hours instead of sleeping, which was totally fine. Furihata wanted that.
But eventually, they were going to fall asleep. Right? Which meant Furihata would be sleeping in the same bed as Akashi. He would be lying right beside his best friend, and then he might dream about some of the stuff he had been dreaming about lately, and that…
That seemed really, super awkward.
Furihata gulped, as he slipped beneath the covers. He realized there was another layer of sheets underneath him, so he had to rearrange everything again. (Seriously, how many bedclothes did Akashi use? There was a down comforter and a blanket and like three layers of silk sheets… Didn’t he get hot at night?)
“Is there anything I can get you?” Akashi was shutting his bedroom door. He crossed over to his nightstand. “Some water, maybe?”
A silver pitcher sat on the stand, beside a pair of crystal glasses. Akashi picked up a glass, and it sparkled in the lamplight.
“That’s okay. I’m good.” Furihata watched, as Akashi poured water in a curving stream into the glass. He still didn’t know how his friend managed to make such everyday gestures look so graceful.
“All right.” Akashi took a sip, then another. “You can help yourself later, if you like.”
Furihata nodded. He was trying not to let his eyes wander down to the swallowing motion of Akashi’s throat. Akashi’s neckline was more visible than usual, with his silk pajamas lying loose around his pale collarbone. For some reason, that reminded Furihata of his weird dreams all over again…
It really didn’t help that one of those dreams had been about this exact bed, either.
“You brought your pajamas again,” Akashi observed. A smile of recognition was playing on his lips. “They suit you.”
“Oh, uh… thanks?” Furihata managed a laugh, as he straightened his blue and white pajama top. His heart gave an uncomfortable, shivery flutter. Which was dumb, and made zero sense.
Sure, if a girl had said something like that, Furihata would have wondered if she was flirting. But this was Akashi, who said nice things like that all the time, to everybody. Obviously, it was just a friendly compliment.
Which was exactly what Furihata wanted it to be. Didn’t he? They were friends, best friends. Furihata didn’t think of Akashi that way at all… He didn’t even like boys in the first place. He liked girls, and he knew it.
The whole thing was seriously ridiculous. He just needed to stop worrying about things that weren’t real, and were never going to happen.
Akashi set down the glass. He lifted himself onto the mattress, and it gently shifted. As he settled next to Furihata, a familiar sensation of warmth flooded into Furihata’s senses. He focused on it: on the powerful energy that always seemed to accompany Akashi’s presence. Like some kind of magical, comforting aura.
Just like that, all his dumb nerves melted away. Furihata relaxed into the pillows, and Akashi said something random about one of the books they read earlier, and then they were laughing. Like normal.
The whole thing was surprisingly easy. Before he got to Akashi’s house, Furihata was worried he would start acting strange, and make everything all weird. But as soon as he was with Akashi, they slipped right into the usual rhythm of their friendship.
It wasn’t hard to do at all. Which was a huge relief.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to visit?” Furihata couldn’t resist bringing this up again. He was getting excited to go back to Kyoto. “I know you only have practice, but you’re the captain. And you don’t have any student council stuff?”
Akashi seemed to think. “I have a meeting that morning. But it shouldn’t interfere with your visit. The other members just needed approval on some of the activities for the school festival next month.”
Furihata gaped at his friend, while his brain boggled. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with the pressure of being the captain of a basketball team like Rakuzan’s, and then having to keep track of the whole student council on top of that. Not to mention the fact that Akashi was number one in his class, grades-wise. Sometimes it really was like he was superhuman.
Furihata shook his head. “You’re seriously too much, you know that?”
“Hmm.” Akashi leaned further into the pillows, and gave Furihata an amused look. “I suppose that could be a fair assertion. Seeing as there are two of me.”
He chuckled. Furihata wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. Honestly, he was kind of stunned. He couldn’t remember Akashi ever bringing that up on his own before. He had definitely never joked about it.
The first time they talked about his other self was just a few days earlier. Akashi had seemed so tense, like he was struggling to admit any of it out loud. Now he sounded way more relaxed. Furihata wondered if seeing a psychiatrist was already helping Akashi become more comfortable with himself. Or maybe Akashi had just come to trust him that much, as a friend.
Either way, Furihata felt really honored.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, kind of softly. “You don’t have to answer.”
Akashi looked more serious now. But he nodded as he said, “Of course.”
“Are you doing the therapy for your other self, too?” Furihata hesitated. He was really curious, but he didn’t want to pry too much. “Or—I mean, is your other self even going to talk to her? I guess I don’t know how it all works. For him, I mean.”
Akashi was silent. His brows furrowed, as he gazed toward the foot of the bed.
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “But I don’t think he’ll speak with her. He… He doesn’t agree with my decision to try therapy.”
Furihata frowned. “Really? Why not?”
“I’m not certain. Which isn’t usually the case.” Akashi was speaking slower than usual, as though he was deciding how to explain. “Most of the time, we’re fully aware of the other’s point of view. As though we can read each other’s minds, almost… I suppose because we share one.” He gave a slight shrug.
“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense,” Furihata agreed.
Akashi seemed lost in thought. His lashes were lowered, veiling his bright red irises.
“But I don’t know why he’s objecting to this,” he added, in a low tone. “And I don’t understand why he won’t discuss it.”
Furihata wasn’t sure what to say. A lot of this was going way over his head, he knew. He didn’t know anything about what it was like to have another self—much less how relationships with them were supposed to work.
He did get the feeling, though, that Akashi wanted his other self to be a part of what he was doing. Or to support his decision, at least.
“Do you think therapy would be good for him?” Furihata shifted a little closer. “Maybe you can talk him into it. You know, later on. If he sees how it helps you.”
“Maybe.” Akashi was frowning. “But I assume we’d have to switch. He doesn’t seem interested in doing that anymore… He can only come out with my permission. And we both agreed it would be better, if I remained in control.”
For how long? Furihata almost asked this out loud, but stopped himself. He got the feeling that it was going into pretty sensitive territory. And technically, it wasn’t his business. He had interacted with Akashi’s other self only a few times, and that was before he and Akashi got to know each other.
Still, Furihata had to admit that he wondered how it all worked. Was Akashi’s other self basically sleeping, right now? Or was he just… existing, deep in Akashi’s thoughts somewhere?
Either way, Furihata could tell that Akashi didn’t want to talk about it too much. Maybe because there were some things he had a hard time explaining, for whatever reason. That was his choice, and Furihata wanted to respect it, as much as possible.
He inched closer to Akashi. One of Akashi’s hands was rested on the pillow. Furihata gently wound their fingers together, in the way that was becoming so familiar to them.
“Well, I think what you’re doing is amazing,” he said. “And I really hope it helps you feel better, about everything.”
“I hope so as well,” Akashi murmured.
They were lying face to face, smiling at each other. It felt so natural, and Furihata was struck yet again, by how easy their friendship was becoming. He didn’t have to try too hard, or worry about being misunderstood.
He shifted, propping his head up a little more. “So, what’s your house in Kyoto like? I’ve got some of your pictures, but they don’t show much.”
He thought back to the photos that Akashi had sent him over the last few months. Usually Akashi would take a shot of his desk, or the tea he was drinking or something like that. There were some glimpses in those pictures, of fancy furnishings and marble floors. But Furihata couldn’t tell much about the house itself.
Akashi’s eyes were shining. “It’s very pleasant. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
He paused, letting out a content sort of sigh.
“The main house is quite large, and open,” he murmured, sounding a little distant. “It’s in the countryside, outside the city. I’m the only one in the family using it, so most of the rooms are vacant now. But I wouldn’t say it feels overly empty, just… spacious. There’s a great deal of light, unlike here. The grounds are like that, too. Long, grassy fields, with no tall buildings at all.”
Furihata lost himself in Akashi’s words, trying to picture it. The house they were in now seemed incredibly big. It was definitely bigger than his home, times about a million. So it was difficult for him to imagine somewhere even larger, a place with more rooms and wider windows. A place with no city skyline in the background. Furihata had lived in Tokyo his whole life, to the point that it sounded like a story.
He shut his eyes, and imagined a massive building of pale stone, surrounded by grassy fields. He didn’t know if such a place even existed in Japan.
But as he pictured Akashi living there, on his own and enjoying it, he knew that he wanted to find out for himself.
The two of them talked for hours, exactly like Furihata figured they would. And it didn’t feel weird at all. It was just effortless, and amazing. Furihata was starting to forget how it felt, when he didn’t have a friendship this close. He couldn’t imagine not having Akashi in his life, at this point.
And he wasn’t going to let anything—not family members, or mental hang-ups, or his own weird subconscious brain—come between them.
Furihata drifted off. He had no idea what time it was, but he kept slipping in and out of consciousness. He was dreaming, about holding hands with a red-haired prince. He knew this prince really well. They were walking through empty room after empty room, inside an enormous palace of light.
At some point, he opened his eyes. A lamp was still on, glazing the bed curtains with a muted glow. Akashi lay beside him, asleep. Furihata sighed and drifted away again, into a drowsy fog.
Something shifted, and Furihata stirred. The room around him had changed, somehow. At first, he thought it was something about the lighting… Then he sensed it again. It was almost like electricity, crackling in the air beside him. It sent a swarm of tingling shivers cascading over his skin.
It was energy, from a very strong aura. He had felt this aura before.
Furihata started awake. His face was pressed into the pillow, so that he couldn’t see the half-lit room around him. He lay paralyzed, completely still.
He could feel it. A pair of eyes were watching him. Fierce, piercing eyes.
He forced himself to turn. A person was sitting upright on the bed, silhouetted by the lamplight. At first it was difficult to see any facial features. But Furihata didn’t need to. He had this storm-like energy memorized, burned into the back of his mind. The memories were all traced over with a musty residue of fear.
He knew this person. He would’ve known them anywhere.
Furihata raised his head, ignoring the instinct to stay as still as possible. His gaze was locked on the newcomer. The room was silent, swirling with hypnotic tension. Furihata sat up partway, using both hands to steady himself.
His insides were quaking. Just like in the memories that shadowed the air.
The newcomer had Akashi’s face. But it wasn’t him.
“Hello,” Furihata whispered, his voice rasping in his throat.
Akashi’s other self didn’t respond. He stared down at Furihata, unblinking.
Even in the dim room, his left eye gleamed a smoldering, lionish hue of orange.