Chapter Text
The river flows swift and clear.
The river flows, swift and clear.
Fuya took a deep breath, and looked out the window of the quiet afternoon train. There was something that felt almost sinful about it, a train on a weekday lull. A world untouched by the hustle and bustle of the city- untouched from work and obligations. He watched as the silver skyscrapers faded into mountains and fields, and streams and gutters flowed into magnificent rivers.
“Ever the aficionado of los rios , aren’t ya, Fuya?”
He didn’t turn to look at Motoi, sitting beside him with his sky blue suitcase tucked between his knees and an expensive-looking smartphone in his hands. Kanon sat on Motoi’s other side, though she remained dead silent- only occasionally hearing the click of her unlocking her phone before she put it away again.
Fuya didn’t bother giving Motoi a response, both because he didn’t know how to answer, and because Motoi had been trying to get a rise out of them for the entire duration of the train ride. He couldn’t comprehend how the man kept it up. His serene smile, placid but entirely unsettling back in the Reaper’s Game, was still the same as ever, never wavering even in the face of the few times Kanon deigned to give him a backhanded answer.
The atmosphere was awfully uncomfortable, and a part of him regretted even agreeing to join this. He was simply swept up in the moment when he had agreed to Motoi’s invitation, but now he wondered if he could even take a day of this, let alone three. It’d be nice to get out of Shibuya but-
“Kanon, mon ami , visited any magnifique stores lately? I heard on the grapevine that that accessory store in Tokyu Plaza got some new imports from America!”
Kanon, with a tired frown and a thoroughly unimpressed glower, simply glared at him.
“Have you even gone outside at all?” Motoi continued, completely unperturbed. “ Dios Mio, no wonder you look so terrible.”
“All my makeup expired.” she said, then turned away from him.
It had always been like this. The two other leaders had always charged the atmosphere with their mere presence, but together, it was as if they were rapids Fuya wouldn’t dare thread into: tumultuous, intimidating, dangerous. It almost felt wrong to consider them such, when he knew neither posed any danger as just shadows of their former selves. Old habits die hard, he supposed.
Still, the river outside calmed him. It flew swift and clear- calm, sure, diligently to its destination. He focused on tracing it’s path, noting every information he could glean from it’s trajectory to keep his uncomfortably clear mind at bay. Kanon and Motoi could deal within themselves, as they always have, and Fuya will survive, as he always had.
Piercing gazes stabbing through him; an amalgamated mass of faces towering over him. A cacophonous auditorium, and Fuya stood at the centre, as thought after thought flooded into his head. With every new face he could feel new voices- talking thinking accusing- him. They cascaded into a tidal wave and his throat clogged.
Loud, it was all so Loud . The people’s thoughts, his own thoughts, and the constant waves at the back of his mind. He never tried to think of all those who’ve lost- all those he’s made lose, but they lapped at his memories like sewage, crying like a siren song and leading him closer and closer to erasure. Reprieve was impossible in the Reaper’s Game, none more so than for him, where every waking moment was a battle to keep threading through a storm, to cough out more water from his lungs.
He remembered, sometimes, of how he died. He remembered, thinking, how much easier it would be if that was all there was.
Fuya woke up with a start, sweat clinging to his yukata as he tried to recollect his bearings. He breathed in and out, letting the air in his lungs ground him back to- living. It always feels odd feeling air so viscerally now, but it’s what reminded him he was alive.
Kanon looked at him, unperturbed by his sudden awakening. Did he scream? He couldn’t recall, but with the way his voice was failing him, perhaps he did.
“A nightmare, right?” She asked, almost too casually.
Too shaken to answer anything else, Fuya simply nodded.
“Figures.” Kanon sighed, “Do you want a sleeping pill?”
“...I-” he coughed, phantom water still itching in his lungs. “I suppose...”
“It takes a bit longer to work than how we slept in the game-” she said, as she immediately rummaged the bottle out of her purse. “-but it’s easier than...doing it yourself, you know.”
He took the offered pill and swallowed it whole. A bad decision, as he found himself immediately choking on it, to Kanon’s amusement.
“I could’ve gotten you a glass of water too.” she giggled.
“I...I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for, dear? Just lie down and let me take care of you.”
Though logically he knew she didn’t mean any harm, Fuya couldn’t help the shiver going down his spine. He hadn’t directly conflicted with the Variabeauties for months, but he had watched her fight, watched her mold bitter truths into honey-sweet words as she plucked victory out of some new team’s grasp. It was nothing personal, it was never personal, he should know that better than most, and yet...
“Thank-you, Kanon, truly…” He was still shaking, and put a palm on his shoulder to will himself to stop. Her concerned gaze on him did nothing to help, and he squirmed under it’s scrutiny.
He avoided it by quickly reassessing his surroundings. He was still in the room they shared in the ryokan that Motoi had booked for the three of them. His own futon set was in one corner of the room, opposite Kanon’s and then Motoi’s. Kanon’s futon seemed completely untouched, as did her side of the room at all, while Motoi’s suitcase was haphazardly left open alongside a futon he hadn’t even rolled out yet. He expected Kanon to be...messier, for some reason, but all the clothes she had worn over the course of the day had been folded and tucked into her suitcase every time. Kanon herself wore a simple yukata provided by the ryokan, and had an e-book on her lap. He avoided lingering his gaze on her for too long lest she-
“Heh, I’m sure I don’t look that good in this, Fuya.”
-She noticed. He instinctively flinched, and though he tried to come up with an acceptable response, the sheer torrent of possible answers and explanations had left him at a loss for words. It was terrifying, how much utter control she wielded. How did Motoi deal with this-
Ah- right, Motoi.
“U-um, by the way, where’s Motoi? He is not here right now, is he?”
Her countenance immediately changed, and she sighed tiredly. “Smooth.”
“I-I am actually quite curious where he’s washed up. He’s not sleeping either, is he?”
“No, of course not.” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s no point trying to talk to him though, trust me, I tried.”
“Is that...so.”
“What about you ? Shouldn’t you be worried about yourself first?” she cocked her head towards him.
“It’s not that I am worried for his wellbeing per se…”
“You’re just trying to distract me then~?” she purred.
There really was no point trying to hide anything from her. Fuya could feel a headache coming on and wished that sleeping pill would kick in already. “Kanon, don’t ask me questions you already seem to know the answers to.”
“Maybe if you boys actually spoke your minds for once.” she quipped. Her stare was entirely too pointed- calculating, judging. Under the microscope of her gaze, Fuya felt she could rip through and see every part of him, see every ugly truth and every ugly weakness. Frustration gripped through him suddenly, and he grit his teeth.
“And say what , exactly?” Even now she did nothing but pity him. Meaningless platitudes that only ever made him feel even weaker. “I didn’t want to make ripples in this already entirely delicate ordeal.”
“...You agreed to it, dear, I don’t know what you expected.”
“As did you! But that hasn’t stopped you from arguing with Motoi this entire time, has it?”
“Can you stop bringing him up?”
“If you hate him so much, why did you even come? I’m sure you of all people have better people to be spending your new life with.”
Even in the dark, Fuya could see her flinch. Her gaze retreating into a corner of the room, as she fell dead silent. The shift in the air was chilling, and he immediately regretted his choice of words.
(He cursed himself for being such a coward)
“I- Sorry. I d-didn’t mean that.” His voice fell to a mere whisper, “I’m sure you have your reasons...”
The chill hung over the air like glass, and Fuya was stuck, frozen in place as he watched Kanon deliberate. After a long, excruciating moment, she sighed, exhausted in it’s heaviness.
“...No. Fuya, you’re right.” Her smile was at once both sincere and deeply saddening. There was a resignation to it that he recognized in his second-in-command that day they challenged Susukichi. “Thank you.”
He didn’t know what to say, but that had always been the case around Kanon, wasn’t it?
The next day had involved going to a nearby folklore museum. If Fuya was honest, he’d be hard-pressed to call it a museum of any sort, being just a simple hut with a man explaining all the wooden carvings and knick-knacks displayed in it’s singular room. Still, it was interesting to hear the local legends even if Motoi’s nodding next to him was as fake as his “Ill Cavallo brand” necklace.
“Ah, hearing the stories of des locaux is quite enlightening, no?” he said when they exited the building. “Truly nothing can match the feeling of being immersed in outras culturas .”
“We’re in the same boat we started in. It’s not like we’ve departed on an international cruise.”
“Still, you’re an enthusiast of that kinda thing, aren’t you?” He winked, and Fuya tried not to instinctively shiver. “I’m sure going to Shibuya with the occult in mind is a completely new experience from going there for shopping- as an exemple ”
“You are aware that the underground rivers are not mere rumours?” Fuya huffed. “They do exist. There are articles about it.”
“Yes, yes, I suppose. Mi scusi .”
What a headache he was. Still, Kanon was back in the ryokan and therefore not available as a dam against Motoi’s...everything. He really should just try to talk to him normally, but both in-game and now, Motoi hadn’t changed at all. The other man didn’t have his team of devoted remoras anymore, nor did he need to lull people into trusting his false information. Fuya was more than aware of his two-faced nature, so what was the point of keeping up such false pretenses around him- let alone Kanon?
“I feel like you could have picked a grander vacation spot than this, Motoi. Are you really enjoying this?”
“Anything can be a canvas for grand memories, mon ami .”
“That doesn’t really answer my question…”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
The question caught him unawares, and Fuya paused, scratching the back of his head. “I...suppose? It trumps simply floating by in Shibuya…”
“ Perfecto ! Good! I’m gracias to hear that~”
Being around him was deeply exhausting, and Fuya let out a weary sigh. He supposes he should be grateful to Motoi for even giving them this opportunity- would being in his studio apartment, languishing around and ignoring every call been a better option? Objectively, no.
“Plus...places like this, out and away from the rush of the city… the waters here are much calmer. ” Fuya added, after a moment of deliberation.
“Well, the river is nice...”
“-No I mean… The city was simply my estuary, so to speak.”
Motoi raised an eyebrow, the only act in his otherwise entirely too placid countenance that betrayed his utter confusion.
“I wasn’t born in the city.”
“Ah-!” Motoi clapped, and Fuya resisted the urge to snort. “You’re a country bumpkin then!”
“Don’t say it in such terms!”
“Ahaha, but it makes sense now. My, Shibuya must have been a veritable floresta urbana for you.”
“ You aren’t exactly a helpful buoy in that regard.”
Motoi burst into a fit of giggles then, having to stop their hike back to the ryokan to clutch his knee. Fuya found himself stopping as well, just to stare at him.
“I really don’t think that warranted such amusement.”
“Just- unexpected, is all.” Motoi smirked. “You’re so feisty at times, the gap is cativante ”
“...I feel like you’ve been swimming alongside Kanon a bit too much.”
“Hmmm, well, it is an effective tactic, n'est-ce pas ?” He tapped a finger to his chin. “After all, the best way to make one slip is to get them we-”
“Block that stream of thought! Right now!” he squeaked.
“Ahahaha, see what I mean~?”
“It’s aggravating, is what it is.” Fuya huffed, feeling his face heat up. Damn his utter lack of a poker face. “Neither you nor Kanon’s words are deeper than a puddle, and you think it’s enough to bait me?”
“Well it certainly worked right now, non ?”
“Only because you’re absolutely insufferable! How am I meant to take anything you say seriously?”
“You don’t need to.” Motoi answered, far too quickly. “Though as for mademoiselle Kanon...” he trailed off, deliberately lengthening his tone. “Or- hmmm, would it be bad for me to say this?”
“Would it be in my best interests for me to hear this?”
“Surely oui ! Kanon always valued honesty, after all!”
“Then flow whichever way you’d like.”
“She’s much nicer to you than I, you know. I’m sure she still feels guilty leaving your team to fend for themselves so much. Don’t be too harsh on her, mi amigo. ”
Fuya narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him as much as he could. Whether he felt this gaze or not, Motoi remained utterly nonchalant- letting everything flow off him like water off a penguin’s back. It was a talent Fuya lacked, and he found himself a little envious.
“If I wasn’t more unawares, you almost seem like you’re worried about her.”
“ Moi ? Never. ” Motoi pointed a finger at him and winked. “I simply can’t have an awkward atmosphere on this vacanza , after all!”
Motoi was an insufferable man, but perhaps there was more to dive into him than Fuya initially thought.
By the time the third day had rolled around, it seemed like they had exhausted all their avenues for amusement. While Kanon had seemed content to simply laze around in the ryokan, Fuya was getting restless, and as much as Motoi had been hiding it, it was obvious he was itching to do something . The atmosphere between the three of them had become like a pleasant creek in comparison to when they first arrived, but there was only so much a conversation with either of them can go before it devolved into something none of them wanted to wade into.
Come to think of it, how long had it been since Fuya had gone on one of his excursions? As intimately as he had gotten to know Shibuya, he had never gotten a chance to mark down all the culverts he had discovered. The one near that somedrinks in Shibuya Stream had seemed especially interesting, but alas, that place almost always seemed to be locked away- sometimes for entire weeks.
In a small rural town like this, there would be no point in doing such a thing. Everything must have already been marked and noted by years and years of cartologists and locals. Still, he remembered his childhood of playing in a local river, and a sudden surge of need had overtaken him. He didn’t tell either of his roommates when he changed out of his yukata into some more comfortable clothes, nor when he stepped out. He doubt they’ve not noticed, but such thoughts were irrelevant as impulse rushed like a torrent.
The day was pleasantly cool. It was the cusp of summer- not close enough to be considered it just yet, but still warm enough on most days that anything more than a cotton long-sleeved shirt was uncomfortable. He sucked in a deep breath, drinking in the air like he was starving for it, and found himself smiling wider than he had in a long, long while.
Fuya had forgotten how quiet life could be. Free of obligations in the middle of the forest, he had forgotten how true freedom had felt. He walked far enough to find where the river ran clear, and slipped off his sandals to walk through the stream. Of course, such an act was impossible in any of Shibuya’s hidden rivers, polluted as they were, and of course it felt a little juvenile, simply enjoying the feeling- but it reminded him how much he loved them. Why he had found rivers to be so calming and fascinating.
He remembered his dreams of unlocking all the secrets of Shibuya’s underground rivers, perhaps even unearthing them for the city to use. It had been what gripped his desire to fight back then- before sheer survival instincts and an obligation to his teammates took over. When the Composer had imprinted some information in his head, Fuya had remembered feeling like He was oddly fascinated by the concept.
Your thesis has become quite popular, you know. I’m sure if you write up a presentation, you will be riding a wave to success for quite some time. Heh.
When he could barely step into a room with more than 10 people? He had given up on that dream as soon as he woke up.
It was nearly evening when Fuya realized he had no idea where he was. He figured he could easily retrace his steps back through the river, but if he had made one wrong turn he was at risk of stranding himself. The map that Motoi had back in the ryokan taunted him now but there was no point dwelling on some other course. It was odd how calm he felt, considering the circumstances.
He heard the rustle of leaves underfoot and the cracking of branches long before he saw who caused them. It was frantic and quick, but before he could instinctively make to leave, they spotted him.
“Fuya- what the hell !” Kanon yelled, a tinge of hysteria in her voice. It caught him so off guard, he froze. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”
“Kanon? Motoi? What swept you to these parts of the stream?” he tried to laugh to lighten the mood, watching with relief as Kanon just gave him an unimpressed frown.
“It would be a huge no-no to have my preciado guest end up dead again, you see.” Motoi hummed, wagging his finger. “It would be terrible for my réputation ”
“ We were worried.” she rolled her eyes. “We didn’t realize you’d be out for the entire day, you know. Didn’t think you were the outdoorsy type.”
“Ah well- I suppose I let the time slip away from me.”
“Did you ever. It’s nearly dinner time already, have you eaten at all, pescino ?”
“Er...no.” How had he lost track of time to this extent? “The thought didn’t wash ashore to me until just now.”
“No wonder you’re so skinny.” She sighed, and poked the side of his ribs. “You might as well be some skin on bones.”
Kanon’s laugh was a relief- bubbly in a way that set him at ease. Motoi joined in and he found it lacked any of the airs he always put on. It was odd, but not unwelcome, and he found himself stunned into silence.
“Are you that happy to see us?” Kanon, as usual, broke the silence with a sly wink. “You could look all you want, but wouldn’t it be better back in our hotel~?”
“P-please don’t say it like that.”
Motoi hooked his arm through his, still laughing. “My, you’re so eager Kanon. Don’t such things come after a dinner date? How coquine. ”
Fuya couldn’t help it. His face heated up to an uncomfortable degree, and he didn’t even register that the two of them were leading them back to their shared ryokan. It had been… a long time since he felt the pressure of another human body, and even if it was them- maybe because it was them, he wanted to bask in it, just a little.
And so he did. The two of them had seemed so unapproachable before- by virtue of the cage they had been stuck in, slowly and surely filling with water until they all drowned. They had always been so many steps above, living in a world out of his reach as he struggled in the undertow. Even now, he doubted they could ever understand him completely; ever truly comprehend the sheer terror of having everything pre-planned, and of narrowly missing the guillotine, week after week.
But they’re here. And in everything unsaid, he knew they were trying. They knew never to mention their team members, still erased after everything they’ve been through. They knew never to mention the man that taunted them day in and day out. It was as natural as breathing, and these unspoken rules connected them with the most fragile of threads. It connected them more intimately than anyone else could ever hope to.
In the light of the setting sun, they stepped back out of the forest, the homely little ryokan that had been their home of 2 days glowing warmly. At this moment, Fuya wished he could stay here forever. Away from the city- away from a world he could never return to.