Chapter Text
Every morning when Leo woke up, he saw the same thing. Dull plastic stars littered across his ceiling, and a stream of light directly in his eyes. Ruka had told him once that waking to the sun was healthy–that it made your days start off bright, and he never doubted her. But he hated it all the same.
It felt like the sun was taunting him every day he opened his eyes and rolled over to cover his head with a blanket. Like it was laughing at him. Asking, ‘when will you stop being so dramatic?’. And every day he answered the same: “tomorrow, or never at all.” He’d eventually get up. Eat, shower, try to compose–try to write anything. But it always came to nothing as of late. Every scrape of his pen against paper felt like a declaration of failure. He didn’t think he cared though. Because really, if nothing but his music mattered, maybe there would be freedom in the loss of that gift.
But he shook with it all the same. Even if he tried to ignore the panic rising in him as he walked the school halls, people he didn’t remember the faces of giving him dirty looks. It didn’t matter though, he was a genius, and he’d come out of his slump. He pretended it didn’t matter, and it made it so.
Izumi, though, looked at him the same as always. And Leo smiled with it–that sad panging in his chest undertoning the bittersweet crescendo behind Izumi’s eyes. Cause Izumi was kind. He was kind, and he cared; even if he didn’t show it. Leo knew it, and he tried his hardest to convince himself he wasn’t wrong.
They walked home together most days, and Izumi would note with a worried look that Leo was more sentimental than usual, and Leo would shake with it. Shake with that vulnerability and uncertainty. Like he was scared. But he was a good pretender, and Izumi wouldn’t pry–Leo wondered if that eye roll meant he hadn’t even cared at all or if he just couldn’t.
Today was different. Today was worse, and the second he rolled over in bed he felt the tears welling up in his throat, like a warning. He accidentally let his pent-up emotions spill over into Izumi’s lap, a sad little cry for help he almost hoped Izumi would ignore. He’d collapsed into a heap on the empty classroom’s floor, papers scribbled with ink at his fingertips. Crying was easy, but being open was harder. And Izumi stared at him like he was broken, hands feathering at his shoulders like he just wished Leo would wrap it up already–Leo wondered how true that was. He’d said something mean, then. Something he didn’t remember, but he thought Izumi might, and it made the other scoff, a million words tumbling from him in that angry, defensive tone Izumi took on more often than Leo wished he would.
But words weren’t supposed to hurt like that. Ruka always said language was a greater gift than music, and he never told her to her face, but he hated them. He hated words and he hated fighting, and he guessed now there was a reason. And he felt mean and muddied. Like he’d just lost his lifeline to a bad day, so he left. He walked home alone, the route along the sea he and Izumi took every day feeling just a bit cathartic.
When he’d stepped through his bedroom doorway, he fell to the floor again, the dull plastic stars on his ceiling shimmering in the evening sunset. And suddenly, he wasn’t alone.
A girl, glowing in the sunset, flickered next to his bed. Leo blinked, sure this was some sort of dream, the memories of a few moments ago falling to the back of his mind like a story. But sure enough, she smiled sympathetically at him, like she’d already made a map across the derealization behind his eyes.
“Are you alright?” She spoke like he was a wild animal, and suddenly, Leo realized she wasn’t standing. She hovered in glittering flashes, her legs glitching into nothing and back again as she lowered herself to his level.
He blinked, trying to will the dreamy feeling away to no avail. His hands coming up looking like shapes, like he didn’t remember how to use them. So he tried to prove it, crumbling some recently failed compositions into tiny, worthless balls of paper. The rough feeling against his palms seemed real enough, but it didn’t matter.
“Why are you ruining those? Aren’t they any good?” The girl reached a hand out to gingerly touch Leo’s. She looked at him with the same nervous stare Izumi had, afraid she’d shatter him against the floor. His fist came loose on instinct, and the paper ball slipped to the floor in front of him. Her hand felt real, though it shined in the light like maybe, if it were brighter out she’d be see-through. Leo didn’t know what to say as she uncrumpled the page, smoothing the paper with the pads of her fingers and reading the notes carefully.
“I haven’t written anything good in weeks. These are all just a waste of the feelings I had when I wrote them.” He pushed back the tears stuck in his throat, and she looked at him like he was a liar.
“This one’s good. You’re just too hard on yourself, Tsukinaga-kun.” The sun started to set behind the line of his window and Leo tried not to cry.
“You’re just being nice…!” He huffed out a humorless laugh, sitting up on his knees. “Who even are you?”
The girl smiled, carefully continuing to smooth the creased folds in the sheet of paper in her hands. “My name is Anzu. I’m a virtual magical girl, here to help you. I have an offer for you!”
Leo blinked at her, trying his best to unpack what all that even meant. But his mind kept wandering back to everything and anything else, forcing his fingers to press against his palms in an attempt to ground himself.
“But, I know that’s confusing. So ask any questions you’d like.” She had a pretty smile, laying the paper she’d unfolded flat on the floor, a shimmering light resonating off the notes he’d written on the page.
He lifted the paper, then, to his face, blinking in shock at the notes. They looked like they’d been written over in a glow-in-the-dark pen, a sparkling shimmer shifting off the page. And suddenly, the light lifted off the page, taking the notes with it as they floated into the open air like lightning bugs. Leo laughed, that disbelieving scoff falling deafly as he reached a finger to meet a note where it balanced in front of his face–his finger passing through it like a reflection.
“Is this…magic?” Smiling, he leaned forwards, swiping a hand across a group of notes. “Are you an alien or something?!”
Anzu laughed, bright and glittering. She looked like one of those manga magical girls, shimmers of light reflecting off a pendant at her neck, and flowing ribbons floating around her. “No, no! Not an alien…I don’t think? But yes, it is magic!”
“And you’re…here to help me? Do I get magic like this if I take your offer?” He asked excitedly, trying desperately to ignore the panic filling his bones with lead as his thoughts fought to be heard.
Expression lighting up, Anzu took his hand in hers, holding it to her chest and squeezing. Leo’s face warmed up as he blinked up at her, a chilling sincerity meeting him where he sat. “Yes! Yes, you’d get magic!” She nodded her head, her hair floating softly around her like she was floating in space instead of in Leo’s bedroom. “You like games, right, Tsukinaga-kun?”
She had a nervous look in her eyes, like his answer mattered a lot more than it seemed.
“Uh…I guess! I’m not very good at them, though?” He watched as Anzu let his hand fall from hers as she pulled back, rising to look down at him with a smile.
Her skirt shifted as she turned her back to him, the floating notes following behind her like she was a magnet. She looked back at him over her shoulder, and she glittered, her face shining like she was proud of him. He felt the same catharsis he had on the road by the beach.
Suddenly, he blinked and there was a new doorway opposite of him, sparkling in it’s simple shapes made of bright pinks and pastels. Anzu stood, really, for the first time, within the threshold; the pixelated world behind her making her real. And all Leo could do was stare in some dumbfounded disbelief.
“I can help you, Tsukinaga-kun. But only in here,”
Desperately, terrifyingly, Leo smiled. There was an understanding in Anzu’s stare that Leo couldn’t help but longingly trust. Like he knew her. Like she hadn’t just appeared in his bedroom just moments ago.
So he didn’t question it. He stood, letting his scribbled through pages meet the floor, and stepped through the doorway, a ringing sound harmonizing with a new melody etching into his eyes. He never had a reputation for thinking things through properly, so why hesitate now, when he’s at the end of his rope? Plus, inspiration was calling him forth for the first time in weeks, pulling at his sleeves and begging him to follow it. Who was he to deny that?
And instantly, the world fell into his hands; a euphoric rush coming through him like he’d fallen off a building and into the open air. He blinked, clearing the light from his eyes, and suddenly he was standing in an abandoned street in the city. The sun had set, and it was mostly dark, save for some blue hints reminiscing off the building faces above him. It looked like the downtown, the opposite way to school from his house, but it felt different. It felt free, the way the night only could; and Leo got the feeling the sun never ruined that freedom here.
Then, he realized his shoes were off balance, and… when had he put on shoes? Looking down, he noticed he was in heeled dress shoes, the bottoms clicking against the ground when he tapped them experimentally. And where he looked, he noticed he was in completely different clothes to the school uniform he’d been wearing earlier. His button-down and sweater replaced by a jacket with buttons forming a square across his chest–a jacket he thought would suit a prince or something. It’s deep blue sleeves fitting snuggly over his arms, one pushed up to his forearm and creased intentionally. And he noted the orange cape draped over his left shoulder, just barely falling above the ground, and smiled a little.
“Cool, right?”
Leo had almost forgotten Anzu was there. Glancing over at her, she held her arms behind her back, gravity now holding her hair against her shoulders. She pointed a finger down at his right hand, directing his attention to a clear pen he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
The pen was ordinary looking, catching the light like glass. But the ink inside was a bright green, shimmering inside the same way Anzu had shimmered in his room.
“This is the game?” Leo asked, uncapping the pen in his hand and examining the ink as it sploshed around when he tilted it.
She nodded, using her finger to draw shapes in the air in front of her. “You don’t need paper, or even any surface here. You wanna compose, right?”
Leo stared at her in disbelief, holding the pen up and pretending to write a note in the air ahead of him: a test. And sure enough, the same as the notes in his room, it glowed there, floating in front of his eyes. So he didn’t hold back. He let the melody that had come to him spill out, becoming real in the space before him. He couldn’t hold back his elated laughter, the lines singing back to him in his head as he finished his first piece in weeks. The tears came before he could choke them down, and he sunk to his knees, fancy white pants be damned. He hadn’t felt this good in forever.
Anzu smiled, examining the song he’d written and humming the tune to herself like a skipping stone on a lake.
Rubbing a hand over his wet cheek, Leo got to his feet again. He capped the pen, slipping it into his pants’ pocket and resting a hand protectively over it.
“What’re the rules?”
Anzu reached a hand out behind her, a look that seemed almost pre-recorded settling across her features. In the silence, bright, glowing sparkles brought a monster to life behind her, and Leo startled.
“It’s not real, don’t worry. Magic, remember?”
“...Hah…Right!”
“This is a Feeling. Capital ‘F’. It’s like… a manifestation of a person’s strong feelings.” The thing was just a shadow, just a glittering mass of flashing blues and purples. It’s form shifting, growing tall just to shrink back to it’s place, over and over like a video on repeat. It was big, maybe three times Leo’s size, with long legs that drooped to the earth when it started to move. “This is a basic looking one. Think of it as loneliness. Everyone feels it, so it’s sort of versatile for this demonstration. It will change shape depending on how the person feels loneliness. So, maybe it’ll be small and weak for someone who doesn’t struggle with that sort of feeling. Or it’ll be big and terrifying for someone who does. Does that make sense?”
Leo nodded. The thing was creepy, and he sighed in relief when Anzu squeezed her hand into a fist and the monster dissolved into nothing but a shine that faded slowly behind her.
“The point of the game is to kill those things when they show up. They come from your strong emotions, so they’ll only manifest when things happen. So, you have to work through the root of the problems you’re having until the Feelings get weaker. Until you get stronger.” She tilts her head, carefully examining Leo’s expressions. “No rules. Just emotional vulnerability.”
Shuffling in his place, Leo considered it. The idea of visualizing the things that cause him pain–giving them form and crushing them to nothing with his own hands…It was tempting. He hated the helpless feeling of falling apart at home, unable to actually fix his problems or even deal with them in any sort of healthy way. He thought, maybe this would make things easier.
“Am I like…stuck here? Do I get to go home?” He didn’t know if, at that point, he even wanted to go home. A new world lay ahead of him with simple rules, and no one else in sight. It seemed too good.
“You can go home when morning comes! This place is like a dream–a secret dream.”
“A dream…So I can’t just…stay here?”
Anzu looked at him like he were a puppy; she shook her head. “No, you can’t. This place is meant to help you, so you can live in reality. You can’t use it as an escape.”
Leo bit at his lip, disappointed. What was the point of that? He didn’t wanna live in reality anyways. But he ignored it, like he was ignoring every other thought rattling through his head. “What do I do now?” He glanced at her, and she shrugged.
“You shovel up those emotions. Those things that hurt you today, the things that made you cry. Bring them to the surface and become stronger!” He looked confused, hesitant. So she put a hand on his shoulder, smiling with that understanding tilt to her brow. “We can start easy. You already saw loneliness, why not try working through that first?”
Staring down at her, he scoffed out a laugh. “I don’t really have anything to fight one of those… Feelings you showed me. How do I fight it?”
Anzu clapped her hands together, a little ringing sound making him blink. She gestured to his pocket, the one that housed the magical pen. “That pen can draw anything, not just musical notes. It’s one of the strongest weapons in the game! You can make anything you want, as long as you can draw it.”
Leo broke out into a smile, pulling the pen from his pocket and uncapping it. The possibilities were limitless, but the first weapon that came to mind was a bow. He’d been in archery for most of his life, so this would be easy. He imagined he’d look cool with a magical bow–like a knight or something. Though, knights usually used swords… he guessed there was nothing stopping him from using a sword next time.
He brought the pen up to the air in front of him, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he drew out the outline of a bow, the rough edges snapping into place as the white magic shimmered into a real bow that fell into his hands. It shined, feeling solid despite being see-through besides the white outlines, and the string pulled back just as far as Leo liked. Giggling like a child, he drew out a few arrows, bouncing on his heels when they fell into his hands the same as the bow. He pushed them through the orange fabric wrapped at his waist, deciding that would be a good enough place to house the arrows for now. (He couldn’t figure out how to draw a proper sheath for them!) He capped his pen, satisfied with his work.
“Okay! Now what?” He swung his head to face her, excited look draining away as he realized this was the part that would be hard.
Anzu smiled sympathetically. “Think about being lonely. How does that feel to you?”
Leo cringed, worried that this would actually be a really bad idea. The events of the day started coming back to the forefront of his mind, and he instantly felt the same as he had when Anzu found him. The glove on his left hand dulled the rough feeling of his palms as he rubbed them together, biting at his lip.
He was lonely. Especially now. Especially after fighting with Izumi. He’d tried so hard to ignore it, to pretend like maybe it didn’t happen and maybe he could go to school tomorrow and tackle him into a hug and tell him all about this dream he’s living. But he knew if he tried, Izumi would give him that look. That terrifying disgusted look, and it would shatter him into a thousand pieces again, just like it had today. He couldn’t handle it; even thinking about what Izumi must think. He must think he’s pathetic. Weak and brittle and everything Leo really was. That he can’t even own up to his own short comings and accept that his disposition was to blame for pushing people away. That how he is was the only reason he was lonely. That if he could just pretend a little better–pretend like he always did–maybe more people would like him. Maybe Izumi wouldn’t look at him like that.
And as his thoughts started flooding into his ears, a glittering orange and green sparkled at his feet, bleeding into purples and blues as it stretched like a shadow out in front of him. A short figure grew from the puddle of darkness, wobbling in it’s misshape. Leo thought it looked a bit like a reflection, standing at around the same height as him before it grew, blending into an ugly blob that fell in on itself. Leo’s lip shook as he swallowed down the tears that threatened to break him. He glanced cautiously at Anzu, silently looking for approval she didn’t give.
He huffed, staring up at the monster as it slinked forward. It was slow, but it had this energy resonating off of it. Like it was really alive, and made of all of Leo’s insecurities. It scared him a bit. It felt like nostalgia–like a terrible loneliness that knew all the friends that had dropped him. All the people he’d given his music and his time to, that had left him with nothing but cold-hearted laughs, and all he wanted to do was fall to the ground and knaw at his hands until he could make use of this feeling. But, he thought, maybe composing wasn’t important right now. So, with shaking hands, he readied the bow. Like he’d done a million times before, he slotted an arrow in it’s place, smiling, a little sadly, at the shine that warmed his face just a little, pulling the string back and aiming for the monster’s middle. He didn’t know if it would matter where he hit it, or if one arrow would even be enough. But a little bit of hope rested in his heart when he pulled the string back as far as it would go, the edge of the arrow just barely touching his cheek. He didn’t want to be scared anymore.
He didn’t want to be afraid of being alone. He wanted to be free–to have friends and be liked. And he couldn’t stop himself from feeling like maybe, he didn’t have to change to have that. Maybe Izumi would be mad, but maybe Leo could fix it. He had to trust that feeling. He had to trust that maybe he wasn’t wrong for just being alive, for just wanting someone to stand by his side.
So, he let the arrow fly.
It let out a resounding flick as it flew forward, plunging right into the monster and disappearing for only a moment before light split through it’s form, dissolving it to nothing. Leo thought he smelled the sea on the wind.
He caught one last smile from Anzu, and then he was in his bed.
“Onii-chan? Did you fall asleep in your uniform last night?”
The sun was resting on his face, and he felt more rested than he had in a long time. He blinked with it, sitting up and glancing around. He was back in his school uniform, shirt creased with sleep and pants wrinkled. There wasn’t a trace of the dream he’d just had, though, save for a sheet of paper on his floor, carefully uncrumpled and sitting alone.