Chapter Text
The young man is the Young Man.
The Young Man has a name, but Aogami’s databases have set his title to just, “Young Man”.
Perhaps it’s better this way.
Humans call things they have affection for by name.
Aogami is a Body, while the boy is Knowledge.
Knowledge calls things by name—nurtures emotions for things.
A Body's only role is to carry out the results of such thoughts and feelings.
The Young Man is not normal.
After all, no ordinary human could fuse with a Proto-Fiend and begin the process of Godhood.
The Young Man is abnormal in other ways as well though.
The other children at Bethel are tall, have well-groomed appearances, carry a penchant for the spoken word, and brim with…
The best way Aogami’s artificial synapses can process the discrepancy is as “Knowledge”. The Young Man is not lacking in Knowledge though—when they become One, the Nahobino’s confidence ripples out from the center of its consciousness.
It takes actions that are calculated and follows a moral code.
What the code is blurs at times, but it’s there.
No, the Young Man isn’t lacking in Knowledge at all.
Yet what can explain the discrepancies between Aogami’s partner and other Bethel high schoolers?
The Young Man is on average fifteen centimeters shorter than his peers, his hair is uneven from an untrained hand, and he never speaks unless spoken to.
The Saint and Bethel Agent 112b seem to have grasped the Young Man’s idiosyncrasies. When the Young Man approaches them or looks in their direction, they understand to talk first and wait for a response. Other Bethel staff have copied the Saint and the young Agent.
If it’s to keep them in the Nahobino’s good graces, something like accommodating a strange mental state is nothing. They’ve been dealing with Abdiel for so long, so what’s another strange being to deal with? Especially one as quiet and docile seeming as the Young Man.
Perhaps because they were fused for so long, Aogami has noticed a shift in the Young Man’s composure around him.
It’s begun ever since they returned from their first experience in Da’at.
They arrived back in the Young Man’s Tokyo, and the relief that drowned the Nahobino split them apart.
The Young Man stood close to Aogami—closer than either of his peers.
Abdiel pointed her sword at the Young Man, and those grey eyes flicked up to him while Aogami waited for Abdiel’s judgment.
Long eyelashes fluttered for a second before the Young Man looked away.
Since then, the Young Man always stands at least fifty centimeters away from him.
Their ability to become the Nahobino hasn’t been compromised, but Aogami’s programming won’t let him tolerate any sort of risk to their fusion.
The Young Man arrives at Bethel, and Aogami watches him approach some researchers. They speak before he ambles his way over.
“Good afternoon, Young Man,” he tells the boy. The fifty-centimeter gap has not been breached. “Young Man, your classes have ended, and Bethel has not required our services for today.”
W̵h̷y̸ ̴h̷a̴v̷e̶ ̸y̷o̸u̴ ̴n̶o̸t̵ ̸r̵e̸t̸u̷r̴n̷e̴d̵ ̵b̷a̶c̷k̷ ̵t̸o̵ ̵y̴o̷u̸r̷ ̴d̶o̶r̴m̶s̴?̸
“… Why have you not returned back to your dorms?”
Aogami stares at the Young Man in front of him. A boy with stunted growth and hair ruined by errant shears.
The Terminal soaks the area in a bleached glow that eats the warmth away from the Young Man’s skin.
It gives the boy porcelain skin and sharp features, like Aogami. Eyes that should be grey have been dyed a sickly tinge of green.
W̷e̸ ̶s̸h̷o̶u̶l̷d̶ ̸d̷i̸s̷c̴u̷s̸s̶ ̶t̴h̵i̴s̴ ̶o̸u̸t̵s̷i̶d̴e̶.̷
“We should discuss this outside.”
Outside, under the sunlight like other humans, or like the Nahobino in Da’at.
Yes, they should be outside, and the Young Man nods. Since both parties agree, they leave HQ, and who are the researchers to stop them?
The sun is warm, and the metallic surface of Aogami’s body begins to gain heat.
The Fifty Centimeter Problem (as his processors have so helpfully named it,) is still in place.
School-issued loafers plod on asphalt, in time with the clank of Aogami’s heels.
“Young Man, why are you here?”
“I found a Jack Frost that wants to go back home,” the Young Man explains. His voice is a piano string pulled taut, ringing high yet full.
More steps fill the air.
“Bethel will not allow that to happen. The demon must be exterminated,” Aogami recites.
They’ve begun heading towards back alleys, dark hair brushing against cheeks and lips as the Young Man tilts his head. His skin no longer looks as pale now that they’re outside, but the edge of his being glows from the harsh afternoon sun refracting off his being.
“Abdiel.”
Aogami snaps his head down.
“Abdiel wanted to kill us when we came back,” the Young Man says.
The Young Man is starting a conversation.
“She still wants us dead,” the Young Man says, his light voice pulled even tighter. “If Bethel decides to get rid of us, will you let yourself die?”
The Young Man hasn’t even pulled in his next sip of air when Aogami replies.
“Yes.”
His loyalty is to Bethel after all.
The boy’s lips press into a pale line as he adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
Not once have those grey pupils pointed towards Aogami.
W̵h̸y̴ ̴a̶r̸e̸ ̴t̴h̷e̴y̶ ̴n̷o̴t̷ ̵l̵o̷o̸k̵i̷n̸g̸ ̶a̸t̸ ̸m̸e̷?̷
“I understand. So even if I begged at your feet, we’d die together.”
“No. If you don’t wish to die, I will help you.”
Aogami’s body freezes mid-step post his hasty words, arms at his sides and heels half-raised. Things are pinging about in his head with a high-pitched whine.
The clanging of his feet on the ground has stopped, prompting the Young Man to stop and turn back.
“Aogami!”
The boy dashes towards him, flinging away his bag. A soft, human hand crunches down onto his metallic fingers, and again they become One.
The Nahobino’s blue hair shimmers around as its geta-styled soles clink down. The alley is blessedly deserted, and it goes to pick up its bag which degrades back into pure data to be stored within.
“I apologize for that, Young Man. It appears that some sort of conflict appeared. Being in this form has since resolved that issue.”
The Nahobino’s Knowledge swirls around for a minute, seesawing back and forth before listing to one side.
“… Abdiel.”
“If you don’t wish to die, I will help you.”
Its chest melts, refreshing their minds like water droplets being flung off a blooming lotus.
“… Let’s go help that Jack Frost.”
“Of course.”
Why had Aogami even considered letting the Young Man die before?
The Nahobino should be the priority.
H̴e̶ ̷s̸h̵o̵u̵l̴d̷ ̷b̶e̸ ̵t̵h̷e̵ ̴p̷r̵i̶o̵r̶i̷t̵y̷.̵
The demon is secretly escorted back to Da’at as the Nahobino explains to Bethel staff that it’s finished its voluntary rounds and will now make a quick trip to Da’at for some Macca.
The researchers don’t argue—experiments on Macca’s ability to alter reality have been done before.
In Da’at, the Nahobino’s mind settles, Aogami and the Young Man melting a bit more into each other. It stands watch as the Jack Frost dashes off without a word of thanks. In the process, the Nahobino spots a small, vaguely fox-shaped demon.
Satisfied that the frost demon isn’t about to face an untimely demise, the Nahobino makes its way over, only to stare with a flat face as a blatant cash grab is offered.
“Should we take up its offer, Young Man?”
“Why not? It’s a good day. Let’s burn some cash.”
A good day?
Aogami has no time to answer before Macca exchanges hands (paws?) and they’re scrambling up buildings to bother some Miman.
“It’s a good day,” the Nahobino repeats, not bothering to properly answer Aogami’s confusion.
Aogami’s Young Man.
Evermore the enigma.
Gustave makes their skin crawl as always, and the researchers have thin smiles as the boy hands over some Macca.
The research department’s skeleton crew has already had the flesh bleached off its bones, and distractions like Macca experiments won’t fly with the current situation.
They still take it though.
It’s a change.
The Nahobino is a change.
“Young Man, I should walk you back to the dorms. Whether it’s on purpose or not, there are more demons appearing.”
The boy nods and Bethel staff stare as Aogami follows him out yet again.
The sun is setting, and Aogami’s decision to escort the boy home is only strengthened by the presences it feels. The Fifty Centimeter issue also seems to have resolved itself, but that doesn’t stop the silence that holds them apart.
In situations like these, the proper thing to do is to make small talk. Small talk begins the process of endearing two individuals to each other, and in their case, it’s especially important, since the Nahobino is a singular being.
“You’re talented in the musical arts. The way you can comprehend things as melodies is an interesting talent.”
The Nahobino’s fingers don’t just dance over the keys—sometimes they dash down, and other times they barely flick off the edge in the World of Shadows. The tune changes every time, all while their hands remain rounded over invisible bubbles.
Demon Fusion is not a skill that Aogami possesses. It’s all the Young Man’s Knowledge that allows the finer details of fusion to successfully occur.
“What do you know about Jouin High School?”
The Young Man is rather talkative today, and Aogami will not waste this chance, scanning his databases for the information.
“It’s the top high school in the country. Seventy-two-point-four percent of its students are admitted to either Tokyo University or the Tokyo University of the Arts. In general, ninety-three percent of all students go on to enter politics, become prominent figures in media, or end up as upper management in reputable companies. Of course, these statistics are skewed by Jouin’s small student body, and by the financial or social advantages Jouin students often have.”
The Young Man is looking at him now, a slight crease between his brows.
“Our Prime Minister is an alumnus himself,” Aogami adds.
The crease deepens and the boy’s head tilts, yet in the end, all he does is nod.
“That makes sense. I have good grades, and I’ve got a few awards for piano. Put me higher up on the waiting list, so I managed to squeeze in.”
‘Some awards’ for piano don’t get a student with good grades in Jouin.
On a whim, he runs the Young Man’s name through public databases.
“… You have some fans.”
“Only the weirdos really into classical music.”
“I will not argue that some of these individuals seem dangerous, but the majority appear to be reputable individuals of the arts.”
The Young Man laughs, a short sound that rings around them. A woman walking back from a late lunch to her office blinks in their direction.
Her gaze lingers, and the Young Man holds his cell phone to his ear.
“It’s been a while. The performances I give Sophia could probably win a competition here and there in Tokyo, but I’m not always capable of that, especially for someone out of practice,” he admits.
“As per my personal judgment via my computational abilities, it seems that you are selling yourself short.”
“Your sample size is small and poisoned.”
“I have access to all of your public performances.”
“It’s still a bit poisoned.”
“By what?”
The Young Man shuts up for the rest of the walk to the dorms, all the way up to the coast.
The sound of the waves is distant from outside, but inside the dorms, it must be nonexistent.
The Young Man pauses in front of his current home, eyes closed.
No matter how much the ocean calls out to them both, it will not—can not—help them.
“Do not forget to eat, Young Man. You have been under immense pressure recently, so your health and nutrition are imperative. Also, as odd as it sounds, you cannot neglect your studies. Bethel will not be your employer forever. You will need to find a university or something else after… all of this,” Aogami explains.
A sigh escapes past those pursed lips, but the boy nods.
“Yeah, you’re right,” the Young Man replies, adjusting the strap of his bag for the fifty-fifth time. “For a Proto-Fiend, you’re very… adultish, Aogami.”
“I don’t believe that’s a proper word.”
“It’s not something bad, to be a normal person.”
“Which is why your future is important, Young Man.”
Y̵o̴u̶r̷ ̸h̴a̵p̵p̵i̵n̴e̸s̷s̵.̷
“After this war,” Aogami continues, a strangeness tugging at his mind, “you must find happiness. Else these sacrifices will have been for naught.”
The boy parts his lips, but his eyes widen more, refracting the setting sun from within.
“My… Happiness?”
Aogami nods in return.
“I understand that paths in life can diverge but graduating from Jouin will greatly assist in your future goals.”
“Shouldn’t you be telling me to go for something like a good job or becoming famous?” the Young Man says, replying with his own question.
Aogami doesn’t shy away from that pointed stare.
After all, he was programmed from the beginning to be clear and blunt.
“Will that make you happy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then it doesn’t need to be a certainty for you.”
P̵l̸a̴y̴ ̷m̶e̵ ̵a̴ ̷s̴o̸n̸g̶ ̸s̵o̷m̴e̴d̸a̶y̴.̶
“Play me a song someday. I can help judge your current skill, and say if it is worth pursuing a career in.”
He turns around and begins the journey back to the medical center. It’s a long walk, but he has confirmed the Young Man’s safety. Aogami can return with peace of mind, or whatever his artificial being can best replicate.
“There’s a piano in the common area.”
Aogami pauses then turns back around.
“Very well. Let us head over to your dorms.”
The dorms are a sleek, polished affair. Keycards guard the access, but Aogami senses the presence of various humans scattered around the trees and shrubbery.
“I am concerned by the signals surrounding this entrance.”
“They only watch. Some of my classmates are idols, so their fans like to camp out.”
“Are you in any danger from these individuals?”
“Told you, only the classical music weirdos, and those aren’t that common.”
“I did not realize how fraught with danger your everyday life is.”
“They’re not that scary.”
The Young Man is rather unflappable.
His keycard chirps as the gates unlock, and the Young Man walks in a straight line from the entrance to the grand piano located further in. Some students are seated at the couches and tables nearby, studying.
Their need for peace and quiet is ignored by the Young Man, but he stops when Aogami touches his shoulder.
“Young Man, you need to eat. I assume you had lunch on campus, but that means it has been roughly five hours since your last meal.”
The boy’s stomach grumbles, and he holds his hand over his torso, pondering with a glazed look.
“Huh. Ok.”
Aogami wonders if the boy did not notice that he needed sustenance.
He holds pieces of a whole in his mind.
Chopped hair, a short stature, not speaking unless spoken to, and an empty stomach.
Aogami can only make a hypothesis, but confirming it requires Knowledge. Also, the Young Man’s personal matters do not concern him. What matters is the Nahobino, Bethel, and the war against the agents of Chaos. Even if Aogami was able to put it all together, it’s merely one facet of the Young Man’s being. Not one of much importance in face of the dire situation befalling Tokyo.
So instead, he lets himself marvel at what boils down to an elaborate, low-security prison for children.
The amenities are good, there is a tantalizingly sized amount of freedom for “good” students, and the rooms are utilitarian but comfortable.
In the cafeteria, the boy chooses a dubiously balanced set meal of vegetable curry—the vegetarian option, despite mulling over options with meat as well. As they move through for a seat, some people call out and greet the Young Man, but ultimately the boy settles for a corner with no space for others. He places down his tray and begins to shovel food into his mouth with desperation.
From around, the kitchen staff and the students marvel over such an active appetite, but all Aogami sees is a starving beast that’s almost on par with a Preta.
“Young Man, eating this fast is not healthy for your digestive system, and I also believe that you may need some protein in this meal as well.”
“It’s fine.”
The vegetable curry with rice is finished and the plate is dropped onto a rubber conveyer belt.
“Okay. Let’s do this.”
It’s just a song, but the Young Man carries himself like the Nahobino—strong and with conviction. His eyes lock onto the grand piano’s position, even though the common area is not visible. He flexes his hands over and over, muttering notes under his breath.
Aogami keeps silent.
He has nothing of value to add after all.
The Young Man slides on the bench, bag dropped to the ground. He holds his core high but shoulders loose.
It’s the picture of elegance, befitting of a person who used to perform in front of cameras and the most critical of eyes.
It barely catches a glance from the still working students though. Jouin students who know piano are a dime a dozen, and with enough training, anyone can have perfect form.
Aogami knows that the Young Man is not just “anyone” though.
Even when the boy’s lungs seize and his fingers tremble over the keys, Aogami waits.
He does not push but neither does he encourage.
He waits because he trusts the Young Man.
His silence makes the other turn towards him, and Aogami continues to wait.
Sometimes patience and a deep breath are all you need.
Willowy fingers smash onto the keys.
People jump, but that’s not what Aogami experiences.
He hears a chord that’s been ripped from the instrument with violence, watches the boy’s eyes sharpen into steel, and feels shivers run through a body without Knowledge.
The pedal isn’t even done dragging out the note when the Young Man dashes forward into the music, tearing through chords like a beast given free reign over a pen of livestock.
“The audience is your prey,” Aogami says to occupied ears.
A smile blooms over the Young Man’s face as he shatters his soul over the keys, forcing out anger and an urge for destruction through a medium considered socially acceptable.
Yet just as quickly does he begin a dance.
The anger eases out into a giddiness that skips over the keys, leaving human observers reeling.
Happiness, happiness, happiness—it’s what the Young Man’s music sings out after leaving behind a dark and tangled time.
Happiness muddles into a full, rich sound that swells in the chest, reminding Aogami of rings.
A ringing bell, a band of silver, or the halo of a moon.
A sound that feels round and comforting, and the happy ending for any burst of mania.
The Young Man almost ends the last note on a legato but freezes and lets it die a short death.
He blinks dumbly, then looks at his hands.
“Young Man.”
Aogami taps the boy on the shoulder, speeding up the Young Man’s return.
There are still odd looks being aimed at them, so the boy grabs his bag and leaves, Aogami trailing behind.
The school-issued loafers click on the linoleum, and when the postal clerk holds up a stack of letters it is taken with a nod and a polite smile-turned-grimace.
To Aogami’s surprise, the boy goes for the stairs, burning excess energy with heavy steps up four flights.
“Hey, did you study for the quiz tomorrow- whoa!”
More polite nods and grimaces all the way to his room.
“Young Man-.”
The door is slammed in Aogami’s face.
Well.
That was interesting.
Some scrambling occurs inside, and the door is opened less than thirty seconds later, the Young Man’s cheeks blotchy with red.
“Sorry.”
“Are you alright, Young Man?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just, just come in or whatever.”
It’s a spartan dorm with a small closet, under-bed storage, and a desk with a bookshelf installed on top. The floors are sealed concrete for an “industrial” look. Aogami deduces that it must’ve been what was in vogue when the dorms were being designed. How many buildings cut costs and made cheap buildings when a rugged interior was just as popular as a polished exterior?
Seems like even an exceptional high school like Jouin has its issues. Perhaps funds are being shuffled in odd areas.
“Your school has no issues with corruption or low tuition payments, so I’m surprised by how small your room is.”
“I purposely chose this one. It’s the cheapest single. The other ones are more expensive, or you have roommates. I don’t want to…”
The boy’s voice trails off, and he grabs a letter opener from his desk. With the same grace that he carries to the piano, he slices through one of the envelopes tossed onto his desk.
It’s a thorough letter, handwritten on thick paper and mailed with extra postage.
The silence that settles in lingers for a few moments, before Aogami realizes that he needs to default to the usual methods for conversing with the Young Man.
He’d gotten too used to the Young Man’s words flowing out unbidden and assumed that this would be their new normal. As grey eyes scan over the letter, Aogami starts to speak.
“From what I heard, compared to your previous performances of the same piece, I noticed 2 discrepancies- “
The boy holds up 5 fingers.
“Pardon, but I have scanned the recordings thoroughly and compared everything from the chords and individual notes, to even the overall timing.”
“Did you compare it to the original score?”
An original?
The Young Man had performed with such a desperate fervor that Aogami had no choice but to assume the piece was a personal creation.
Another search through public databases reveals the source, and when comparing the score to the performance he recently heard, there are indeed five discrepancies.
“When was the last time you played the piano?”
“Right before I came to Jouin.”
“There are people who practice for many years just to get to the same point as you, three years out of touch,” Aogami muses. “Yes, I believe you do have a future in the musical arts if you so wish to enter the field. Jouin’s connections will most definitely help with that transition.”
The Young Man tosses the letter onto his bed with the paper-knife.
“Do I deserve to?” he mumbles.
“Explain?”
Without care for propriety or manners, the boy slumps into his chair, staring at the other unopened envelopes, gaze darting towards Aogami every few seconds or so.
“Jouin is the only place with dorms that I knew my parents wouldn’t argue about letting me go to. Which means I had to get in no matter what,” he says, shuffling about random papers. “So, I dealt with everything they wanted. Tutoring, grades, piano lessons, nonstop practice, competitions—everything.”
W̷h̸a̴t̸ ̷d̸i̷d̷ ̷y̵o̸u̸ ̶l̸o̴o̶k̷ ̶l̴i̷k̵e̵ ̴b̴a̸c̵k̷ ̶t̵h̵e̷n̶?̷
Aogami goes back through previous recordings of the Young Man. Instead of listening, this time he watches. The franticness from before is extreme in these recordings as if each performance is his last. His clothes are expensive and tasteful, but his appearance is slovenly.
Unkempt hair that’s long and uneven, chopped just enough above the eyes to not hinder sight. Wrists with the skin vacuum-sealed to the bone, and nails clipped short to the nail bed, clotted with blood. The boy’s face is slim and neat, but only because it lacks the baby fat a child should have. Dark circles make him look far older than a middle-schooler.
“Are you healthy now?”
“Uh, what do you mean?” the Young Man replies, head tilted as he responds to the question with yet another one.
“Are you healthy now?” Aogami repeats. “Do you get enough to eat, and do you sleep well every night? Are you less anxious nowadays?”
“I… Aren’t you going to ask why I stopped?”
“Your health is the most important.”
“Uh…”
The boy frowns, and his lips part then close over and over. The Young Man’s thoughts are running, but he doesn’t seem able to say them.
“I-I… I’m healthy now, I think. I forget to eat sometimes, but only when schoolwork is piling up. I d-don’t do any extracurriculars, so every day isn’t overwhelming.”
“That’s good.”
“Um…”
“Do you want to tell me about the piano?”
The Young Man’s frown won’t leave his face, and he clasps his hands together. Those perfect fingers grow white and constricted, and Aogami observes how the nail beds are misshapen from damage, like lopsided plates glued to the boy’s fingertips.
He can’t keep eye contact with Aogami.
Instead, he focuses on a single corner of the room, shifting the tight, angry hold he has on his hands.
“I like piano, but there are people who really love it. I just used it as a tool to run away, but there are others who had fewer resources or weren’t as desperate as me, and they lost chances.”
The Young Man risks a look at Aogami’s flat and passive expression, then sucks in a deep breath. He sighs, and speaks again, words calm and now matching Aogami’s stoicism.
“It’s not fair to other people, for me to keep doing this.”
“How is it not fair?”
Aogami steps into the room, away from the threshold and closer into the Young Man’s space. The boy blinks at him, and almost stands to match Aogami.
“I took… a lot of opportunities away from people who deserved it more. It doesn’t feel okay to keep on doing that.”
“You enjoy playing the piano though.”
“A lot of people enjoy playing the piano. But some people devote themselves to it.”
“You devoted yourself to it.”
“No, you don’t get it, it’s not the same. I devoted myself to it because I didn’t have any other choice. It’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. The source is always important, you know. I had an old piano teacher who always talked about playing from the heart,” the Young Man reminisces, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. “He’s the one who taught me how to really play. My parents didn’t like how he didn’t teach in technical terms, so they dropped him, but afterward I always talked about him after competitions.”
The Young Man scoffs, and his smile turns more rueful.
“It’s the only thing they let me get away with since we were in front of cameras. My old tutor gets lots of clients nowadays, so he’s probably forgotten about me, but whenever I check his socials, he seems to be doing well.”
“Were you punished for that?”
“Hm?”
“From what I can extrapolate, your parental figures do not take kindly to deviations from their control.”
It seems that everything Aogami asks makes the Young Man frown, and the boy stares at the Proto-Fiend a bit more.
“Uh… They just… Uh… Nothing happened. It was fine.”
The Young Man is lying to him, but Aogami lets it slide. This isn’t the main thread of the conversation.
“If you are ever in danger, please contact Bethel.”
“I… I… Alright.”
“This is only an initial assessment, but I see no reason why you should not continue your endeavors in becoming a musician. You enjoy it, and you have skill.”
“It’s not fair though.”
“Your happiness takes priority.”
“That again…”
“What I am saying is something that you must seriously take into consideration. After this war, you must decide upon something, and it would preferably be something that will give you a content and stable lifestyle.”
“… Please leave, Aogami. I’ll walk you out.”
And so, he follows the Young Man down four flights of stairs, leaving behind letters full of abuse in that small room.
They reach the gate surrounded by strange presences, and Aogami begins his trek back to the medical center. His steps clank only three times when the Young Man calls out towards his back.
“I’ll think about what you told me.”
He turns around, but the Young Man is already walking back.
It’s a pointless action, but Aogami nods at the boy’s retreating figure before leaving.