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Beato was idly fiddling with the buttons on her still-open shirt, rather than getting ready. She felt off today. Like something in her sense of self had come undone, and she had been unmoored from the firm tether of Beatrice and all that it entailed, left to drift, nameless, in an endless sea of unorthodox thoughts. It wasn’t distressing, but it was unnerving, and the mirror in front of her was only heightening that sensation.
...She really had thought that she was completely and absolutely done with being scared of mirrors. Her long blonde hair still undone, her skirt and socks still messily laid out on the bed, she wasn’t truly sure why she was pausing at this step in particular. It wasn’t as though she normally had any issue with dressing in familiar clothes like this, though sometimes new outfits did give her trouble.
Battler, who had just finished with his tie and had surely been just about to shrug his jacket on, stopped and stared at her, evidently just as confused as she was. “Is there anything you need, Beato?” He asked.
She could practically see him slip from ‘incompetent idiot’ mode into ‘concerned husband’ mode. “Hm… I don’t know.”
“Do I need to take the mirror away?” He bit his lip, properly getting worried, now, and she hated doing this to him.
She shook her head; she was sure of that much. “I don’t know. It’s a feeling… as though ‘I’ am not ‘me’... It’s not pleasant, but until I resolve this, I’m not sure…”
Like this body wasn’t her, this self she was expressing was not her. Like unwillingly slipping into a mold instead of being cast into a desired form. “A dissonance…” she muttered. As though the composite parts of her were slipping out of place.
“...Am I speaking to Beato, right now?” Battler’s words cut to the core.
They squeezed their eyes shut, trying to focus, as Battler gently put one hand on their shoulder. “I’m…”
“It’s okay,” he reassured. “It’s an old habit, right?”
...That was true enough. They’d slipped into roles and masks and written the script of their own life so often that it was a habit. But they’d thought it was over, that now that each part of them had been granted a soul, granted humanity, that they wouldn’t feel the need to any longer. That their self had settled enough that they could forever play one part.
...Apparently, that impression had been false. Beatrice simply wasn’t capable of being them - no, they weren’t capable of being Beatrice. She was them, they were her, it wasn’t - it was not an abandonment but a need to put on some other self, to be some other self. Anyone else would do… to end that dissonance without tearing themself open.
“Call me a name,” they whispered, because if they tried to grasp one for themself it would be nothing but names they never wanted to try on again, names they cast into darkness and killed for lack of speaking them.
Battler hesitated, and the first one that he uttered was “Kanon-kun?”, questioning and hesitant, but it was a name that they understood how to be when they could not be Beatrice, when they were not Beatrice, and so they took it, accepted it.
He took a deep breath, and was not sure whether he wanted to open his eyes or not. He wasn’t the Kanon of the Golden Land, the Kanon that was Jessica’s, the fantasy and the boy who was his own self, who was Yoshiya. ‘Yoshiya’ did not belong to him, he realized. It was more like slipping on an old self, if anything - he wasn’t quite the Kanon who was Yasuda Sayo’s crafted self, but he wasn’t Beatrice, either, not really.
He opened his eyes, though, because if he did not then he might have ended up standing there forever. The face in the mirror was Kanon’s too, because he was Kanon. The body, too, immaculate and whole, was Kanon’s, and he bit his lip. The boy in the mirror bit his lip, too.
Beatrice was a woman, beautiful and gorgeous with golden hair spilling over her shoulders like starlight. Kanon was a boy, handsome and slender with black hair falling just above his shoulders, the color of ink and starless nights. He blinked, several times. Battler’s hand was still there; he hadn’t recoiled, hadn’t pulled away.
“Battler…” He said.
“Is this good?” Battler asked, so, so gentle. He was looking into the mirror as well.
Kanon nodded. “Yes. I’m… I would rather have this role, right now."
He remembered when Kanon had first been created. To live as a boy, to find happiness that way. To take all the bitter, ugly things that Shannon couldn't express and that the witch could not voice.
"Okay," Battler said, merely accepting it. "Wanna borrow some of my clothes?"
"Um," he stuttered, and that was different. Kanon was shy and awkward, graceful in body and graceless in conversation. Whereas Beatrice was witty and bold, graceful in all respects…
Battler chuckled a little. "C'mon, Kanon-kun, it won't be so bad. I've got nice things. Unless you wanna wear what you laid out."
Kanon blushed red at the thought, the color rushing to his cheeks. The idea was a little appealing, but certainly not right now. The entire reason why he was Kanon was because he couldn't be Beato; dressing as her would defeat the purpose.
He didn't like that dissonant, disgusting feeling that had been building inside of him earlier, but he was thankful that it had mostly dissipated, and allowed him to settle as this self. He slid off the shirt silently.
"If you could pick out something… I'd appreciate it…" Kanon managed to say without too much stumbling over his words.
Battler's hand left his shoulder. "Yeah. I'll get everything, okay? Leave it to me." He spoke reassuringly and gently, still, just as he had to Beato.
Kanon appreciated it. He undid Beato's bra, took off Beato's underwear. He felt strangely at home in this form, even though it wasn't something he'd ever consciously desired to try. It was just another facet of himself that did not normally need to surface and be singled out like this…
Battler came back from his sojourn into his messy dresser. "Here." He had a messy pile of fabric that Kanon had to assume were meant to be clothes for him.
"You should put my clothes back. And… thank you." Kanon whispered the last bit of that, a little embarrassed, and thought to himself that Beatrice would have commanded Battler and would have thanked him with a sweet smile or a kiss.
...He felt strange, disassociating from his own self. But what was a self but an image and how one externally presented their heart? It was not as though Kanon's heart had at all changed. It was merely that Kanon's presentation of it had.
He dressed without much fuss, not daring to look at the mirror again until he was finished. It wasn't very formal, but he understood Battler's choice and its reasoning…
A long-sleeved black hoodie with gray sweatpants, paired with black sneakers and plain white socks. The soft fabrics of the clothes were nice, and the bagginess to avoid the clothes very clearly revealing his body was nice as well. He fidgeted with the slightly too long sleeves; these were Battler's clothes, after all, and the man was ridiculously proportioned.
Battler came back again, his face lighting up as he saw Kanon's outfit. "Do you like it?"
"Do you?" Kanon asked instead.
Battler gently took Kanon's shoulders and turned the smaller boy towards him, to at last meet his eyes. Battler's eyes were blue like the ocean, glittering so brightly that it felt as though they were reflecting the light of the sun.
"You're handsome as hell, of course I like it," Battler replied, his face far too close.
"I like it too." It came out as a cold, deadpan proclamation, but it was the truth.
His husband smiled. "Can I kiss you?"
"You… want to, still…?" He was surprised. He knew Battler loved all of him, but he'd assumed that when it came to it Battler preferred boobs and dresses and feminine presentation.
"Why wouldn't I?" Battler asked what was probably the most ridiculous question in the world.
Kanon could name so many reasons: his original body, his current gender, his bitter words… but he did not say a single such one. If there was a single person he trusted to tell him anything, anything at all, it was Ushiromiya Battler.
"Please…" Kanon's agreement sounded needy, desperate, awkward, and he wanted to curse himself for it.
But it only made Battler smile, made him gently cup Kanon's cheek like every part of his body was something precious and perfect, made Battler kiss Kanon slowly, gently. Beato would have melted into it, or sighed and pulled his tie and fiercely kissed him back.
It was strange, to be aware of how he'd usually act and yet simply not be her. Kanon enjoyed it but did not melt, nor did he fiercely reciprocate. He was sure, however, that Battler's kiss had left a faint smile on his normally stoic face.
Battler seemed proud of himself. "You're way too fun to kiss," he teased, and made his point with a far shorter peck on the lips.
Kanon shuddered a little, and was hardly aware of why. Having a truly male body was something new and yet not… it did not feel wrong. Later, surely, he'd be begging Battler to call out Beatrice's name, clinging to him with all his might, this illusion of Kanon slipping like rain back into the endless ocean.
But for now, he was glad that Battler loved him, still. Glad that nothing as shallow and yet vital as how he appeared could keep them apart.
"I love you," Kanon said, and perhaps it was blunt, but it was also the simplest, easiest confession in the world.
"Ah, I love you too," Battler said back almost automatically. He was always so quick to say it.
Kanon was too awkward to embrace Battler the way Beatrice would, but Battler embraced him before he could even try to think of some other way to express his affection. His hug wasn't very long, but it was the home he always belonged to, the place to which he would always return.
Battler let go far too quickly. "Are you up for going outside?"
"I'll… I'd confuse people." Kanon pointed out, made nervous by the idea of it.
Battler flipped up Kanon's hood in response. "There. Nobody will get it without seeing the hair. At most people will think you're trying a new cup size, as long as you're quiet."
"I can't just stay in this room all day?" Kanon grumbled, and blushed when even his stomach made sounds of protest.
Battler laughed, which only made Kanon blush more. "You're adorable, Kanon-kun."
"Just Kanon… and you're just Battler," he muttered.
"Ah, er… Okay. Then, you're adorable anyway, Kanon."
Battler was probably the stupidest man in the world. If so, that made Kanon the second stupidest man in the world for loving him so much. (It might have also made Beatrice the stupidest woman, but he was ignoring that for now.)
"If so, then kiss me again," Kanon asked, though his blush was surely as red as the roses he adored. "Battl-"
Battler cut off the next part of his plea with another kiss. "You're too cute," he murmured.
"I'm merely yours," Kanon replied. "Use me as you wish."
"I'm not using you. You're mine, but you're your own, too," Battler argued, his words filled with conviction.
Kanon wasn't so sure of that, but perhaps that was because he was viewing it all through the lens of Kanon… And not the lens of Beatrice. No, he was… he took a deep breath, trembling a little, and fidgeted with his long sleeves. They were comforting, somehow, and remembering that they were Battler’s clothes, too, was grounding.
“You’re right.” Kanon sighed, irritated at himself for being so conflicted.
Battler let out a long, relieved rush of air, and twirled one lock of Kanon’s hair around his finger, playing a little with it. “I’d hope so. I’m kind of an expert on you, last I checked,” he joked.
Kanon found himself laughing. It was a surprise, to see how easily he could laugh, still. His heart felt light, long freed from the shackles of furniture. “Haha, you should be by now.”
“Hm…” Battler said, as if considering something. “Your hair’s just as soft as Beato’s.”
Kanon blinked, unsure of what to do with that information. “I- well-”
He kissed the dark lock of hair in his fingers, and then let it go. “You’re easy to tease, Kanon. I’ll have to be careful with my husband today,” he noted, grinning.
“I’m still your wife,” Kanon replied, and was aghast while saying it and even more so after saying it… Kanon wondered if he could sink into the floor and never be found again. Ever. By a single human being. His face felt so hot that he wondered what sort of flustered mess he must have looked like, and he had to fight the urge to worry at his lip.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Battler took Kanon’s left hand. A silver ring was still there, on his ring finger… “Wanna go, then?”
Kanon nodded. If Battler was taking his hand like this… then he would go anywhere. To heaven, to hell, to an endless abyss of isolation… so long as Battler was here…
Battler held the door open for Kanon, too. He often did it for Beato, too, but it felt a little different… Kanon was sure that he was going to die of embarrassment long before they had to interact with anyone else.
The mansion was always quiet in the morning, at least… usually. So as they walked through the halls together, Kanon letting Battler lead him, he didn’t expect to see Maria, Ange, and Sakutarou playing a game of tag so early.
“Ah, Onii-chan!” Ange paused their game to greet her brother. “Good morning!” She looked at the person next to him for a moment… “And good morning to you, too.”
Kanon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Battler squeezed his hand a little before replying to Ange. “Morning. You three are up early.”
Maria giggled, and Sakutarou did too. “Uuu, Sakutarou and I went to sleep early, too! We wanted to see the sun rise…! It was pretty, right, Ange? Uuu…”
Ange smiled brightly at her favorite cousin. “It really was! Sunsets are beautiful, but knowing that there’s still a full day ahead makes sunrises beautiful in their own way…”
Battler grinned, always happy to see his beloved sister smiling. “Sounds like it was fun.”
“Uuu, it was! Um…” Maria tilted her head at the person next to Battler, squinting. “Uuu… Beato?”
Kanon shrugged. He was, but… he wasn’t, as well. He pulled his hood down further over his head, as though to shield himself from that inquisitive gaze.
Maria looked down, realizing that she was being rude. “Uuu, sorry… Good morning…”
“It’s fine,” Kanon said softly, surprising even himself. “It was an honest mistake.”
In response, he was rewarded with Maria’s brightest smile, and her eyes glittering with joy. “Okay! Uuu, we’ll see you later. Ange, Sakutarou, let’s play in the rose garden instead! Waaay more room there!”
Maria rushed off, Sakutarou running after her with a surprised “Uryuu, Maria, wait for me…!”
However, Ange lingered for a moment. “...Is everything alright?” She asked quietly.
Kanon appreciated the concern. “I… can’t be Beato right now… so, Kanon.”
“...A little like myself and Yukari, then,” Ange concluded, clearly pondering it carefully.
Battler blinked in surprise. “Wait, you also, um, Ange…” He hadn’t heard anything about this before.
“Going by different names for too long can really loosen your identity, apparently,” she casually commented, shrugging. “I’m glad it’s nothing too serious.”
Kanon snorted. “Hah. Glad to know that at least I’m not a special sort of fucked up, this time.” He was blunt and sharp in his assessment.
Ange chuckled darkly. “Yeah. We might be fucked up, but at least we’re not alone,” she replied, just as blunt.
Battler sighed, clearly exhausted already with the dark, blunt humor of the two. Kanon blinked at Battler with an innocent look, which only made his husband sigh again as Ange and Kanon chuckled at the man’s expense.
“I should go follow Maria-onee-chan. It’s more fun when it’s the three of us… Though if you want, you two can also come,” Ange invited.
Before Kanon could reply, Battler shook his head. “Nah. We have to eat breakfast.”
“I’m not that hungry,” Kanon mumbled, though it lacked any heat.
Ange shrugged, sensing that it was best to leave now. “Alright. See you both later!” She waved and then, rather than wasting her time running after Maria, simply vanished in a flurry of golden feathers. She was a witch, after all.
Battler sighed. “I mean… you should eat anyway, Kanon. Do you still like sweets? I’m sure I can make Ronove do something nice.”
“I’m not sure you can make anyone do anything,” Kanon scoffed. After a short pause, he added, “And of course I do. Nee - Shannon likes sweets, too.”
“Yeah, I should’ve known,” Battler chuckled, a little self-deprecating. “And, hey! I can make people do things, I’m the Territory Lord,” he pouted.
Kanon almost rolled his eyes. It was almost a shame Battler wasn’t wearing his ridiculous cape today. It would have been a great way to insult him. “Yes, you are. You’re also only the Territory Lord because I didn’t feel like doing it.”
Battler laughed. “Damn,” he wheezed. “You don’t pull your punches, Kanon.”
“Why would I do that, Battler?”
Battler laughed again, and they continued walking. It was different, slipping back into Kanon, being a boy again - but it wasn’t bad. It was just something else. Hopefully he’d feel better later, be able to be Beato later - because that was the form he loved the most, the one that made him the happiest, now that Shannon and Kanon had been realized as their own people, had found their own existences.
Battler’s hand was just as warm, just as comforting, though. Even like this… even though he was like this… it was still the same. Battler’s love hadn’t changed at all. That was how Kanon understood… that this was truly a love without limits, without conditions. It made him want to cry, but that would have been silly. So he smiled instead.
“You’re my favorite person, Battler,” he whispered, and prayed that Battler didn’t hear that embarrassing confession.
“I already knew, silly,” Battler whispered back, even though it was just the two of them on a silent, peaceful morning.
Kanon wasn’t sure how he could love Battler even more than he already did, but - he somehow did. With every single facet of his being… he never wanted to let go of Battler’s hand again.