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It’s summer.
Ai hates summer.
Maybe it’s the humidity. It always sticks up and around his joints, making his clothes cling to his ‘skin’ and making his eyes feel blurry no matter how many times he blinks. Maybe it’s the way the heat and the moisture clog his chest, stifling his breath, keeping his fans from doing their job to keep him cool. Or maybe it’s the fact that everyone is so, so very passionate about life at this time of year, always raving about this event or that activity that they can do now that the heat is strong enough. He hates the heat though… and he hates that he can’t seem to grasp that joie de vivre no matter how many pages of social media he scrolls through, desperately seeking an answer for what drives everyone to be so… much.
Sometimes he forgets he’s not human. He gets caught up in the moment, in the desire to nail a performance, in drinking tea during a break, and staring out the window of a nice cafe as he watches pedestrians walk back and forth on the sidewalk outside. Yet… it always creeps up on him again, when he’s finally alone and in the quiet of his room at the end of the day. He doesn’t feel like other people do. His brain is programmed to analyze responses lightning-fast and supply the ‘emotion’ that best suits the formula of the moment. He knows that human brains function in a similar manner and yet… yet… yet…. There are still times when he wishes he could just feel without it being such a… process.
Disconnect.
He licks his lips, staring at the reflection of the plastic CD case sparkling on the ceiling. He’s lying on his bed, dressed in whatever he grabbed this morning. He doesn’t quite remember. Well, that’s not entirely true. He knows it’s a thin t-shirt and a thinner button-down and a pair of capris and high tops and—he presses his hands to his eyes. He knows, okay? That’s the problem. He always knows… and he wishes he could just… not know, sometimes. Not in the sense that he didn’t know about marshmallow dye or the way he’s inexperienced with a lot of feelings. Rather, he wishes he could just not know and instead be able to be a bit more creative. A bit more flexible.
He’s always hammering things out in the back of his mind. Burners are always full of pots and pans of elaborate dishes as he constantly tries to process a thousand concepts at once. His information always comes from elsewhere, though. His fans whir loudly in his chest. Has there ever been a single time where he came up with something on his own? A thought… on his own?
Now, now , his mind says placatingly. No one develops an opinion or idea entirely on their own. There’s nothing new under the sun.
He comforts himself with the knowledge that he does make choices. He chooses what he wears, how he composes songs in his free time, what food to eat each day. Those are all… from his own preferences, right? Swarmed with a buzzing sensation deep in his stomach, he sits up, barely containing his growing frenzied energy. He just wants to exist for a bit without the constant processing in his head! He’s about to really lose it when he hears a knock at the door. He breathes deeply.
“Come in.”
It’s Otoya, eyes bright and his smile sunny as ever. “Hey, Ai-senpai! You wanna come hang out with us?” Ai blinks at him, face neutral and eyes emotionless.
“Who’s ‘us’?”
“Well, it’s mostly just me an’ Syo, gonna toss a Frisbee around for a bit, but the other guys will probably be there. I know Natsuki’s bringing popsicles.” He giggles. “We convinced him that store-bought ones were fine.”
Just be.
Disconnect.
Ai scrunches his fingers into his pant legs subtly, then nods. “Sure.”
Otoya perks up, pumping his fist. “Great! Let’s go!”
⁂
The sun is at that angle where everything turns salmon pink. It’s a weird effect that Ai has yet to research the reason for, but it happens every summer and it always burns his sensors a bit. Or… or maybe everyone feels that way; he’s not sure. Closer to the horizon the haze becomes more golden. Insects flitting through the air glow like molten metal when the sun hits them just right and there are cicadas buzzing in the distant trees, somewhere out across the campus.
Otoya leads him to a portion of the lakeside. It’s a pleasant, grassy expanse with some benches, not too far off the path.
Masato is resting on a blanket on the grass with a cooler, shifting the ice around to better house the variety of drinks and frozen treats he’s attempting to pack it with. Natsuki is hovering over him, arms laden with grocery bags. A cardboard box of popsicles is also on the blanket alongside a mystifying container of chili powder. The box is nearly torn to shreds. Someone was a bit hasty with opening it.
“Oi! Get!! Away from me!! With that!” Syo’s voice pierces the drowsiness of the setting. Ai looks over to see him backing up from Ren, who is dual-wielding a pair of chili-powder-dusted, real-fruit popsicles.
“Trust me, Shorty,” Ren says, smooth voice tinged with glee. “You don’t know till you try it!”
“Ren…” Tokiya speaks up from the bench he’s sharing with Cecil, not even bothering to glance up from his sketchbook.
Ren rolls his eyes but backs off. “Okay, okay. More for me.” He sticks one of the popsicles in his mouth and winks at Syo, who glares at him.
From beside Ai, Otoya flails an arm out in a boisterous wave. “Sorry I’m late!” The others look up at his approach. He jabs a thumb towards Ai. “I noticed Ai-senpai had been holed up inside all day, so I thought I’d invite him.”
Natsuki perks up immediately, clapping his hands together in delight. “What a great idea! He’ll have a lot of fun, I’m sure of it!” The others nod and mumble their greetings. Otoya smiles at Ai and lightly pats his shoulder.
“Sit wherever! This is just a hangout, so just do what makes you happy!” Ai nods vaguely, watching Otoya jog over to Syo and offer him the Frisbee he’d been carrying. Ai glances around the setup, feeling a tad out of place. He’s used to spending time with Syo and Natsuki on their own, but not all of Starish.
‘What makes him happy’, huh….
He walks over to the blanket.
Masato smiles at him politely. “Mikaze-senpai. Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?”
Natsuki darts an arm into the cooler and drags out a grape popsicle. He offers it to Ai, grinning warmly. “Ai-chan! You like grape, right?”
Ai’s chest twists. Does he? Or is that another solution to a pre-programmed formula? He silently takes the popsicle and nods at both Natsuki and Masato, then retreats to an empty bench and sits down while unwrapping it. The ice crystals glisten and begin to melt the second the sun hits them. He watches them coalesce into droplets and slowly slip down the sides of the popsicle. The noises of Starish goofing off and socializing around him fade into the background, giving way to that constant trill of the cicadas. He allows the melting ice to coat his fingers.
Just be.
It’s sticky. Layers of it dry and harden, then new ones form as the popsicle keeps melting. His eyes burn from the ambient sunlight, from the brightness glinting off the lake water.
“What...is my purpose?”
“Your name is Mikaze Ai. You are an idol… and you will help wake my nephew, Kisaragi Aine, by living life in his place.”
Ai stares at the ice melt encrusted on his fingers.
I…. Am I real?
Sometimes he feels like he doesn’t exist. Like he’s watching his life through a computer screen. Maybe that’s why he enjoys video games so much—the familiarity is easy. He feels like there’s always a barrier between him and his surroundings, no matter how many times he goes shopping with Syo and Natsuki, no matter how many times Ranmaru cooks dinner for him and Quartet Night, no matter how many times he stands in the aisles of his usual tea shop, staring down at the herbal blends as if anything he chooses will even matter in the long run. He swallows, distantly aware that his hands are shaking and his fans are stuttering and—
Splat!
He looks down. His popsicle has finally had enough of the summer sun and snapped in two. He blinks at the shining purple clump of ice on the ground, mingling with yellowed blades of grass.
“Ai-chan!” Natsuki is suddenly next to him. He giggles good-naturedly. “You have to eat them quickly when the sun is out like this!” Ai looks up at Natsuki vacantly, still coming back to reality from his near-shutdown. He processes what Natsuki said and then turns back to his mostly-gone popsicle.
“I suppose so.”
“That’s okay~” Natsuki hums. “We have a lot! So many! Do you want another?” Ai doesn’t reply right away. He considers for so long that Natsuki looks concerned. “Ai-chan?”
“Yes,” Ai decides. “I’ll try again.” He’s not so sure that he’s talking about the popsicles, but… it comforts him, somehow. Natsuki nods firmly.
“Sure! Grape again?”
Ai glances at the cooler, then stands up, walking over to it. “I’d…” he kneels down to open the lid. “I’d like to pick my own, I think.” Natsuki follows him over and nods, humming his awed agreement. Ai peruses the selection, considering each flavor slowly. Then, he stops himself.
This is exactly what you don’t want to be.
You have to take a step to change a habit.
Disconnect.
Just be.
He reaches in without thinking about it, pulling out the first one his fingers touch. It’s yellow. He closes the cooler lid and stands up, unwrapping his new popsicle, then quickly places it in his mouth. The scent hits his nose first—piercing and clean. Then the bitter tang spreads over his tongue, tingling and electric. Yuzu.
“Mikaze-senpai?” Masato says, worriedly.
Ai exhales shakily. His eyelids flutter; his lashes are wet. “I-I’m fine,” he murmurs. Masato’s brows knit a fraction, but he says nothing more.
“Watch out!” Otoya shouts. Ai turns just to see the Frisbee—on an errant throw—whizzing towards him. He quickly dodges, his free hand darting out to catch it. Syo and Otoya come to a halt, both nearly collapsing, out of breath from their mad dash towards him.
“W-wow, Ai-senpai!” Otoya says when he’s caught his breath. “You’re good at this! Do you want to try passing it around a bit?”
Ai stares at the Frisbee in his hand. He’s never considered it before. He’s always hated needless exertion and… he’s never really had anyone to experience this sort of thing with—to play with—in the first place. The yuzu flavor stings his tongue. It burns deeper down inside him, igniting a host of emotions he’s never really felt before. He’s a bit overwhelmed. Normally, this situation would make him run for the nearest closet to cool down in, but… the ice is already doing that. He looks at Otoya and Syo.
“How do I do it?”
They grin, matching expressions, eyes lit with excitement. Otoya nearly falls over himself in his haste to explain but Syo is already darting away, looking back at them over his shoulder.
“Just throw it, Ai!”
Otoya shrugs goofily, then runs off as well. “Go for it, Ai-senpai!”
Ai glances between them, feeling something new... something warm and bright, stirring inside him. He realizes that he’s already taking another step. Right here. Right now. He pulls his hand back, closes his eyes...
Let go.
...and throws.
“Wow! It’s going so far!”
“H-hey! That’s too far!!”
He opens his eyes again and… he laughs. It’s small. So quiet no one else looks over at him, too busy watching the spectacle of Otoya and Syo charging across the grass. As he feels his fans slow to a normal pace again, he takes another lick of his popsicle. The citrus is strong. It pierces to his heart and for just a moment—he sees. He understands. He feels. Here, surrounded by his ridiculous, wondrous underclassmen, he feels more real than he ever has before.
Let go.
Just be.
Connect.