Chapter Text
Everything in Paris had been stark. Bright sunrises, vibrant flora, the shine of uninterrupted snow after a heavy storm. Shu had often skirted the busiest parts of Paris to avoid blinding headaches. Tokyo had its mesmerizing sunrises, too, and neon signs shining down from towering skyscrapers, but the light and people here didn't bother him as much.
Those headaches had probably been psychosomatic, come to think of it. No wonder the migraine medication hadn't helped.
Regardless, back in Paris, Shu had spent long hours pacing his studio, torn between tearing out his hair or smashing his latest project to the ground and seeking beauty in the shards. The melodrama amused him now – in ES's design studio, the stakes were hardly so life or death.
Shu carefully tied off his stitch and sat back, examining his handiwork. Compared to his designs from a few years ago, the simple diamond pattern was painfully amateur. He'd known he would be rusty, and imperfections irked him. Still, relearning gave him freedom.
A new style. A fresh start.
Shu absently drummed his fingers on the desk as he thought. The Asiatic lily, neatly stitched onto a white background, was still too rough around the edges. He could do better. Shu stood, groaning softly as he straightened his spine, then padded over to the nearest fabric shelf.
The design studio had undergone drastic changes while he was gone. Everything had been shuffled around, and more than once, Shu had spent so long looking for a material that he'd nearly forgotten why he wanted it in the first place. But, he had to admit, the studio was neater and cleaner. The outfit storage had been tucked in the corner, preserving old costumes in a darker closet, and all the materials and machinery were clearly labeled for easy use.
Some things did not change – like the human tendency to ignore the figure hunched in the corner, stitching by hand – and he was grateful for it.
Shu flicked through the stack of pre-cut pieces and silently bemoaned the frayed edges and uneven cuts. Clearly, each had been the work of someone even more amateur than him. After several minutes of disappointment (honestly, had a toddler picked up the scissors?), Shu dismissed the pre-cut pile and grabbed a bolt of blue fabric. He'd do it himself.
Simple and elegant, Shu thought wryly, measuring the cut by hours of instinct alone. Ornate without overpowering the larger design. Does Wataru even hear to himself?
At Mika's encouragement, Shu had rejoined Dramatica and CRAFTMONSTER. When Shu had first returned to Japan, they'd endeavored to stay as under the radar as possible. But, after knocking out stack upon stack of paperwork, Mika had brightly suggested that Shu return to his old circles. Why not, after all? Once Valkyrie was revived, every agency would know of Shu's return. That, or they'd assume Mika had found another partner.
An irrational surge of possessiveness seized Shu's heart, and he hurriedly pushed the sentiment aside. Its intensity was... worrisome.
Regardless, Wataru had gladly welcomed him back. “One of our greatest stars has rejoined the troupe!” Wataru had cried over the phone, and Shu had winced at the enthusiasm. The only condition Wataru set was that Shu make something for the troupe's latest production as “proof” that he hadn't lost his creative touch.
He hadn't, of course. The issue lay in his technical abilities, so here he was, doing amateur needlework to get his amateur hands back up to par. But Shu didn't mind. As he returned to his desk, an odd tranquility settled on his shoulders, a comforting weight. Puncture, set the seam, and repeat. One stitch at a time.
Three years of a self-imposed ban on everything related to idol work. God, how had he survived?
Someone rapped their knuckles against a shelf, just loud enough to break through Shu's peaceful haze. It almost sounded like a knock, and he spared a moment to scoff. Who would try to get their friend's attention by sound instead of name? Inefficient.
The knock sounded again, closer, and Shu suddenly realized he was the intended recipient. He rushed through the stitch, then twisted. Who would want to speak with him?
His heart stopped.
Standing next to the shelves was a tall man with a shock of red hair, black streaks accentuated by the dim lighting. He was tan, probably from hours spent in the sun, and he looked more muscular than Shu remembered. Most surprising was the smile that crinkled yellow-green eyes at the corners.
“Kuro,” Shu said dumbly. His brain caught up a few seconds too late, and he mentally cursed himself for slipping into impolite familiarity. God, what a fantastic way to-
“It's good to see you, Shu.”
Oh.
Kuro stepped up to Shu's desk and dipped his head in greeting, hovering a few steps away. “I don't mean to bother you,” he added, still smiling. “Mika asked for my help.”
God. Shu hadn't realized how much he'd missed Kuro until now, facing his childhood friend again. “What are you doing here?” he asked, swiveling to face Kuro more directly. The taller man grabbed a chair from a nearby desk and pulled it into Shu's corner. “I heard AKATSUKI disbanded.”
“We did,” Kuro agreed. “But only Hasumi left. Souma and I are still around, helping new idols. One unit followed in our footsteps, so we're mentoring them the best we can. I had plans to move to Sapporo, but...” Kuro glanced at the fabrics strewn across Shu's desk, and his smile turned wry. “The industry has a way of holding onto ya.”
Oh, didn't Shu know it. “It sounds like you've befriended Mika if you're here on his behalf,” he added lightly.
Kuro brightened. “I'd like to think so. He's as dedicated to his work as ever; I've spent too many hours in this studio with him.” He paused. Something heavy entered his gaze, and when piercing eyes flicked across his face, Shu felt a twinge of anxiety. “Since you're here,” Kuro began slowly, “I guess that means he was telling the truth about his trips to France.”
A laugh burst out before Shu could stop it. “Yes, he was visiting me,” he said, still chuckling. Mika's indignation expression flashed through Shu's head, and he stifled another laugh. “He said some idols chided him for spending his L$ on flights.”
I would've done the same if I didn't need him so much. I'm a weak man now, Kuro. Can you see that?
Shu's amusement dimmed to a mere flicker, sputtering in the darkness. Logically, he identified that string of thoughts as intrusive, his insecurities and fears reflecting back at him. But faced with Kuro's too-bright eyes, Shu was hardly thinking logically. He felt weak. Needy. That he'd chained Mika down and financially burdened him.
Stop that. You never asked for a penny.
The chiding vanished before Shu could really hear it, whisked away by his whirling thoughts. Still, he recognized the flare of exasperation and latched onto it. Mademoiselle had always been better at objectively evaluating his behavior.
“Some did,” Kuro admitted, and Shu hurriedly tuned back into the conversation. “He never listened.”
Kuro paused, resting his elbows on his quads, and Shu braced himself for the incoming questions. A deeply ingrained instinct hissed for him to pull away and hide behind the walls he'd made part of himself, but... that was pointless. If Shu wanted his life to unfold differently, he had to make the appropriate changes.
Even if that meant staring down a conversation he wasn't ready to have.
“Mika spoke fondly of you while you were away,” Kuro began hesitantly. “But... with no disrespect to either of you, it sounded like a string of fantasies. I can't imagine you going on a... picnic.”
Kuro's rambling posed no direct questions, but Shu still heard the unspoken one. Do I have to protect Mika? Kuro was asking, his brow furrowed with equal parts curiosity and concern. It made sense; the taller man had known Shu the longest and watched his descent into mental instability even closer than Mika had.
And suddenly, his chest warmed.
Shu hadn't expected returning to Japan to be easy, but Mika had smashed his expectations apart. Part of it was the paperwork; Shu could only imagine how many tedious hours of fine print the shorter man had slogged through to alleviate his burden. Part of it was the homeliness of his – their – apartment.
Mostly, it was that Mika had so easily welcomed Shu into his life. True to his word, he didn't hide anything. Arashi had visited three evenings in a row to make sure Mika ate while they waited for the COS PRO producers to sign off on their documents. She never stayed long, but Shu didn't mind her presence. It was worth seeing Mika so happy and lively. God knew Mika deserved friends who knew his worth.
Surprisingly, Arashi was kind to Shu, too. She opened up their conversations, grinned at Shu when he hesitantly taunted her back, and laughed when Mika pouted after Shu muttered a teasing remark. With Arashi so willing to give him a chance, Shu couldn't help but invite the familiarity. He needed friendships, and he trusted the woman who'd cared for Mika while he was gone.
Shu looked up and met Kuro's conflicted stare, and he offered a faint smile. This, too, was someone he wanted to make amends with.
“We had several picnics,” Shu said simply. “Some in the garden, others in the city. As unbelievable as Mika's stories may have sounded, each was real. I could recite our conversations or tell you about my therapy sessions in France. I have pictures from our outings if physical proof would ease your mind. But, if you are willing to trust my word, let me say that Mika saved my life. I wouldn't be here without him”
Kuro blinked. The anxiety Shu had stubbornly been repressing for that little speech broke through his mental dam and washed over him in a wave. No other idol in ES would've received such a straightforward answer, and if Kuro didn't believe him, Shu couldn't repeat himself. His anxiety clawed at his throat, nearly choking him, and beneath his laced fingers, Shu's hands trembled. He was still too raw, too-
“Well, things change.”
Shu twitched, startled out of his downward spiral. Kuro was smiling again. The expression was more open, just like how Arashi had warmed up to him after a few days in each other's company.
“I'm out of AKATSUKI,” Kuro continued quietly, glancing out the window, “and you're disregarded your retirement. Anything can happen.” It sounded as if Kuro had reached some internal decision, and when he turned back, his smile was wide and genuine. “Welcome back to Japan, Shu.”
Guilt overtook his anxiety in a sickening rush. No, no, he couldn't let the conversation end here. Shu needed to apologize, to prove that he knew his behavior required amends.
But before he could say a word, Kuro lifted a silencing hand. “I apologize as well,” he said firmly. “I think new memories are in order. After all, I'm no longer an idol, and you're joining Monarch on stage. Our lives have changed.”
A peace offering.
He didn't deserve it.
Take it, Shu. You don't have to prove yourself.
Mademoiselle's chiding was there and gone, again whipped away by his cacophonous thoughts. But Shu heard the core of it, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.
“Mika's time as Monarch was unprecedented. I'm... grateful he gave that up for me.”
Kuro chuckled. “I don't think anyone could've stopped him.”
In the blink of an eye, the dark clouds lingering over their conversation finally evaporated. Shu felt lighter, unburdened, and Kuro's smile drew out one of his own. This was a new path. Bygones were bygones – for now, at least – and they would only reminisce once Shu was strong enough.
See?
Shu stifled a warmer smile at Mademoiselle's smugness and inhaled to ask about Souma Kanzaki instead; he'd always wondered what happened to AKATSUKI’s members following their breakup. Then he froze. Kuro had finally unlaced his fingers, resting them atop his knees, and now... Shu could see the silver band adorning Kuro's left hand.
Was- was that-
Kuro followed his gaze curiously, and a brilliant smile overtook his face, lighting him up with pure joy. “Of course you noticed,” he said softly, running a reverent hand over the band. “Souma did as well. No one else noticed for several months.”
Months? Shu thought, dazed. “Congratulations,” he murmured aloud. “How long?”
“Our one-year anniversary is next month. Aemi said she didn't want to do anything special, but-” Kuro shook his head fondly. “I will still treat her to something. Souma and I have been splitting AKATSUKI’s remaining L$, and we're both on the frugal side.”
Shu had so many questions – mostly because he'd never known an idol who'd married while still in the industry, if only on the outskirts. Had it been lavish or small? Had the fans pushed back, or had they been supportive? Above all, Shu wanted to ask about Kuro's wife.
But deep in Shu's chest, something dark and melancholy burrowed into his lungs, stealing every breath.
A childhood friend had gotten married, and he hadn't been around to see it.
Of course, who was to say that Kuro would've invited him? This was the friendliest conversation they'd had in years, and god only knew how Shu would've reacted to Kuro's proposal. He might've scorned the other man for marrying young or “ruining his career.” As much as it pained him to admit it, maybe his absence had been for the best.
Still...
“I regret I couldn't celebrate with you,” Shu said haltingly. Kuro glanced up, his face softening with an emotion Shu couldn't identify. He stubbornly pressed on. “I'd like to offer something for your anniversary. In lieu of your wedding date.”
Kuro's eyes flicked back and forth across Shu's face for a moment. “I also wish you could've attended,” the taller man said eventually, and the air punched out of Shu's lungs. “Mika was there.”
It took several seconds before Shu could remember how to breathe, and even then, his voice came out thin. “Was he?”
“Yes, Aemi is quite fond of him, and Aniki- my little sister. Have you ever met her?” Shu shook his head silently, and Kuro smiled. “She and Mika were attached at the hip for the day. I think Aniki wants to become an idol now.”
He wanted to smile back. He wanted to congratulate Kuro again, ask for pictures of the wedding, if the other man had any on hand, and start thinking about a gift for their anniversary. Three years away from idol culture had taught Shu the value of appreciating life, and this was certainly an occasion worth celebrating.
Shu felt cold. Unbalanced, ashamed, and, even deeper in his heart, betrayed. Mika had attended Kuro's wedding and not said a thing to him? Why?
“Shu?”
Kuro's quiet voice wasn't enough to fully break Shu's downhill spiral, but for a split second, it dragged him above water. Shu frantically started paddling.
A deep breath, enough to make his lungs ache.
Kuro's eyes, sharp and focused, proving that Shu was here and real.
The knowledge that he couldn't change the past.
Mika would never do anything to harm Shu, and a sick rush of guilt flooded his heart for even entertaining the thought. For god's sake, Mika had wanted to abandon Monarch for years, yet he'd stayed quiet for Shu's sake. The man was too kind and compassionate for his own good. Shu had asked Mika not to tell him specifics of the industry, and the shorter man had always abided by that, save his own frustrations or collaborations for a Live.
What would've made Kuro's wedding any different?
With another deep breath, Shu's head finally cleared. His heartbeat, which he hadn't even noticed picking up, slowed back to a steady beat, and the numbness in his hands receded.
I'm proud of you. That wasn't easy.
“I'm sure Mika has pictures from the wedding,” Shu said aloud, though his chest warmed at Mademoiselle's praise. “I'll ask to see them later. He never does anything without taking a commemorative selfie.”
Kuro's concern melted back into a welcoming smile. “I also have some photos on my phone if you want to see them.”
Another extended hand.
Shu would take it. Again and again, until he escaped his island of isolation.
Suddenly, a commotion rose from the other side of the design studio, and their peaceful bubble popped. Shu leaned forward with a scowl, half-expecting to see a younger idol with a needle jammed into their finger. To his relief, Mika was the eye of the storm, apologizing for accidentally slamming the door. Shu's first thought was to roll his eyes. His second quickly overpowered the first because, oh, wait, Mika was shining his excitement, his mismatched eyes alight. Shu's breath caught in his throat. Was this what they'd been waiting for?
“Shu!” Mika called, hurrying towards him, and Shu winced. If the other idols in the room hadn't known of his return, they certainly did now. “Shu! We-” Mika stumbled when he noticed Kuro, then instantly brightened again. “Kuro! Aah, I'm real sorry for makin' you come all this way for nothin'. I was gonna ask you to help with designin', but-”
Mika whipped around to face Shu, grabbing his wrists with those lovely, warm hands. When the shorter man tugged urgently, all Shu could do was obey, getting to his feet as best he could with Mika standing over him.
I'm a weak man, Kuro. I'm sure you see that now.
“Anzu's upstairs,” Mika continued in a rush, his dialect getting even thicker with his excitement. Belatedly, Shu realized that he still understood Mika perfectly. “And she's got the signature from the COS PRO producers!"
Shu's heart pounded along at double speed, amplified by Mika's radiant smile and his tight grasp on Shu's wrists. This was it.
The shorter man suddenly faltered, turning back to Kuro (though, Shu noted, he didn't release his hold). “I'm real sorry 'bout this,” he echoed with a sheepish smile. “Do you still have time after this?”
Kuro blinked. Shu would've chuckled at the taller man's bewildered expression if he hadn't been so dazed. “Yes, my schedule is free,” Kuro said slowly. “After what?”
Mika turned back to Shu and beamed. “We're reformin' Valkyrie!”
Then they were off, darting back through the design studio. Mika dragged Shu along by the hand, squeezing his fingers tightly, and all Shu could do was follow. In seconds, they'd left Kuro behind and emerged into ES's main lobby. Shu would've protested going through such a public space a few days ago, but now... why bother? Once they spoke to Anzu, there would be no more skulking around, no more rumors. No Monarch.
The elevator bell dinged, and Shu flinched, startled out of his haze. He and Mika were alone in the car, at least. No one else was around to witness his jitters or trembling breaths. They were only meeting with Anzu, but Shu hardly wanted to show up looking like a mess. Best to keep himself distracted.
“I should ask,” he said quietly, and Mika glanced at him curiously. “What units are under COS PRO?”
Mika's eagerness dimmed for the first time since his impromptu arrival in the design studio, quickly settling into solemn understanding. Though Shu hated seeing the gleeful light fade from the shorter man's eyes, he also breathed a sigh of relief. They both knew he'd spent too long burying his head in the sand.
“The big ones are Eden, 2wink, and Freebirds,” Mika listed, counting them off on his fingers. “2wink's down in Osaka for a couple of months, doin' some public work. Eden hasn't changed. Well, I guess to you, they have, but Hiyori and Sazanami haven't. And then there's Freebirds!”
Shu mulled over the explanation for a moment, silently wondering how Saegusa and Ran could've evolved while he was gone. “You've mentioned Freebirds before,” he said eventually. “Who are they? I believe you said Oukawa is affiliated with them.”
Mika flushed. “Aah, sorry, I never told you. You remember when Rinne Amagi left?”
Anger gripped Shu's heart, even as he gave a tight nod. Of course he did. He'd privately resolved to stay in Japan until the Crazy:B situation was resolved. Even then, he would've done everything in his power to protect Mika from the elder Amagi. He'd breathed a sigh of relief when the man left.
“Well, he took Shiina with him, so their unit kinda fell apart. Kohaku said he struggled with idol work for a long time. But Crazy:B never officially disbanded. Last year, they rebranded as Freebirds! They took Hakaze as their third member, too!”
Hm. At least Hakaze hadn't been left out in the cold after UNDEAD's disbanding. Shu was hesitant at best at the idea of a rebranded Crazy:B, but Mika hadn't voiced any complaints about them, and he seemed close to Oukawa. Shu would accept his word.
One last question, then. The most pressing one of all, one he wasn't even sure he wanted an answer to.
“And Tenshouin?”
A beat.
“He's gone,” Mika said carefully, and relief nearly drowned Shu where he stood. “I don't think he's dead. But fine moved on. It's Hibiki leadin' 'em now.”
Shu took a deep breath, blew it out, and realized that he no longer felt so sick. He'd been terrified to return and see Tenshouin's smiling face still gazing down t him from the top of ES's pecking order. Who was to say Tenshouin wouldn't have come after him – and Mika – during ES's next crisis?
But... the emperor was gone. So was Hasumi, apparently, and suddenly, Shu wondered if there had been a connection between Tenshouin's departure and AKATSUKI’s disbanding. Well, it didn't matter.
A new chance. A fresh start.
The elevator doors slid open with a cheerful ding, and Shu's mind went blank. Mika trotted into the COS PRO offices without missing a beat, and only Shu's last shred of self-control forced his body after the shorter man. Most conference rooms were empty; who would be holding a meeting at 4:30 P.M. on a Thursday afternoon? One wasn't, though, and that was Mika's target. Shu followed silently. The numbness was seeping into his hands again.
Anzu waited inside, and she looked up as Mika opened the door. Shu blinked, startled despite himself. Anzu certainly looked her part now. Her hair was neatly tied back, and experience lined her face, just enough to set an edge of steel to her gaze. However, the smile was as bright and open as ever.
Curious how time changed people.
“Good afternoon, Producer,” Shu greeted quietly, settling at Mika's shoulder and taking comfort from the warmth the shorter man exuded. “I'm sure you've expedited this process. I appreciate your efforts.”
A thousand emotions flickered through Anzu's eyes, too quickly to identify, and Shu almost cracked a wry smile. He'd have to apologize for how he'd treated her, too. In his defense, she had been an overworked teenager who'd focused on the idols who needed the most help. Valkyrie, stubbornly self-sufficient as they'd always been, had never received the benefits of her work.
Still, that didn't excuse him.
Anzu finally settled on a warm smile, and with a deep inhale, she placed her tablet on the table and slid it toward them.
“It was my pleasure! The producers at COS PRO are thrilled to have Valkyrie back in action. Monarch's L$ has been transferred to your joint account, and I've split the administrative rights. Itsuki, you'll still be the leader in name, but you and Mika will share authority. It's just a technicality, so the system won't crash.”
A bit of the weight lifted from Shu's shoulders. Good. He'd made that deal with Mika back in Paris; he refused to reform unless they were both in control.
“There's no way to directly transfer Monarch's success, but you'll receive his high standing. When we announce that Monarch has stepped down, we'll follow it up with Valkyrie's revival. I'm sure the fans will figure it out. All we need to finalize it is your signatures. And don't worry; this is the personal contract you submitted to the COS PRO producers a few days ago. You can review it first if you want.”
Anzu produced a stylus from her slacks' pocket and offered it.
This was it.
Mika instantly plucked the stylus from Anzu's fingers and scrawled his name across the top line. (Well, “scrawl” wasn't the right word; his signature swooped and curved with surprising grace.) The shorter man's eagerness shoved Shu's body into action, and he took the stylus from Mika with shaking hands. His brain still screamed bloody murder, but Shu had decided, and he wouldn't back down now.
He signed his name.
“It's done,” Anzu announced, and she took the tablet and stylus with a broad grin. “Welcome back, Valkyrie.”
Thank you, Shu wanted to say. Nothing came out. He'd already sunk into a haze of adrenaline and disbelief; he couldn't think; he could barely breathe. Mika was thanking Anzu, and that had to be enough. When a warm hand wrapped around Shu's wrist, he willingly let himself be led. He probably couldn't walk straight, anyway.
Valkyrie was back.
And suddenly, he was terrified.
What if the spell broke? What if their relationship only worked overseas, away from Shu's mistakes and the tearstains on their old costumes, the memories and people roaming these halls? He hadn't run into Nazuna yet, and Mika carefully avoided the topic, but it would happen. Something would break; the best things always broke apart in Shu's hands.
Stop it.
The command rang so clearly that Shu flinched. Mademoiselle hadn't sounded so loud in a long time.
You want this, and he does, too. You will be fine.
Such a simple sentiment. So difficult to believe.
If you were so willing to trust him before, can you not do the same now? Mika knows how to handle you.
Shu exhaled softly. Right. They could support each other. Their therapists had even collaborated as best they could with the language barrier to create the most effective joint exercises. Shu sometimes forgot that Mika had done his own time in therapy and worked through his own issues.
Exactly. All those memories you made in France – you'll make more here. You can share your life with him, doing what you love. Isn't that what you've wanted all along?
God. Shu hadn't even thought about that.
Have some faith. Your life is only just starting.
And Mademoiselle said it with such conviction and genuine encouragement that Shu somehow found the strength to shake off his fears. He had no delusions about an easy path ahead; life was never so linear or kind. But... for once, the future looked bright.
Hm! You see? You ought to have more faith in me, too.
Her giggle almost instantly faded into a whisper-quiet brush that Shu was used to. But her warmth lingered. Shu turned to Mika and found the shorter man bouncing on his heels, staring through the elevator doors and into the future with a delighted grin. He was radiant in his glee, his face alight, and Shu swallowed roughly. Oh, it was so dangerous to have his muse within reach.
But he wouldn't give it up for anything. Mika Kagehira had saved his life, and for the first time, Shu could confidently call him his best friend – whether or not the sentiment was returned.
It was a blessing, he thought, to love an angel.
“I know it's too late for doubts,” Shu noted absently, and mismatched eyes flicked to him, “but are you sure you're willing to give up Monarch? Your success is immeasurable.”
Mika gaped at him. Shu barely resisted the urge to reach out and close the shorter man's mouth with a finger.
“I'll be successful no matter where I am!” Mika protested after a beat, just on the playful side of indignant, and it warmed Shu's chest. “I told you, Monarch was done a long time ago. I got tired. We're Valkyrie, and I don't wanna be anythin' else. You're stuck with me.”
Shu clicked his tongue. “It's a relief to hear my sentiments are shared. We did already sign.”
That earned a slap to the arm and a drawn-out whine, and Shu ducked his head to hide a lovestruck smile. Thankfully, Mika's phone chose that moment to ring. Shu was almost grateful to whoever had interrupted their moment; it gave him precious seconds to recompose himself.
You aren't good for my heart, my dear Kagehira.
“Hey, Kuro,” Mika chirped, oblivious. “We're done up here! Can you still- ah, thank you so much. You're really helpin' us out. Yeah, be right there.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone with a smile. “I asked Kuro if he could help us design our new outfits,” he explained at Shu's inquisitive glance. “Since I figure we'll need an outside. That's why he found you earlier.”
Mika hadn't asked if he could invite Kuro – he simply did it.
And the knot in Shu's chest finally unraveled.
When they reached the lobby, no one paid them any more attention than before. And yet, the world seemed brighter. Shu looked around with a wonder he was almost ashamed to admit to, taking in the hustle and bustle of idol life, watching people rush to their jobs or chat with their friends.
Had ES always been so full of life, Shu wondered, and he'd ignored it?
Maybe it had something to do with the beautiful man walking at his shoulder.
True to his word, when Shu and Mika returned to the design studio, Kuro was still at Shu's desk. The taller man glanced up at their approach, and a warm smile spread across his face. Shu wanted to scowl and turn away (what expression could he possibly be wearing that warranted such a smile?), but the slow, content beating of his heart left no room for embarrassment.
Then Shu noticed the outfit spread across the desk, and his heart leaped into his throat. He hurried the last few steps, his fingers trembling with anticipation, and Kuro dutifully moved out of the way.
For three years, Shu had watched Mika glide across stages around Tokyo, Monarch's costume accentuating his ethereal beauty. He'd never even entertained the hope of seeing it, but here it sat, in all its intricate delicacy. Shu shuddered to think how long it'd taken to design the side panels; each was so carefully stitched that the texture looked organic. It was two different fabrics, clearly, but-
Wait, Mika was here, only a few steps behind him. He could ask questions.
“Did you do this all yourself?” Shu called over his shoulder. No reply. He twisted and found Mika hovering nearby, his cheeks bright red. “What are you doing?” Shu asked, bewildered.
Mika coughed, and his blush somehow worsened. “Sorry,” he mumbled, joining Shu at the desk. “Yeah, uh- I made it myself. I repaired it whenever somethin' broke, too, so all the handiwork is me.”
Shu shook his head in disbelief. “It's stunning. The iridescent effect on the tails-” Shu ran a reverent hand over the opaque fabric coiled around the costume's shoulders. “I've never seen anything like it,” he admitted. “Its effect on video is exceptional as well. I regret sentencing this marvel of creation to the storage room.”
The shorter man said nothing. He'd stiffened a little, but his posture and furious blush were directly at odds with the uneven smile tugging at his mouth. On almost any other occasion, Shu would've stopped to question Mika's odd behavior. But right now, he was buzzing with ideas. They obviously couldn't reuse Monarch's outfit or the old Valkyrie outfits. So-
Oh, right, he had companions with him. Shu should probably think aloud.
“I'm considering a black base,” he said, leaning around Kuro to grab a bolt from the shelves. “Monarch shouldn't be forgotten so quickly, and a visual similarity will help his fans adapt to the change more quickly. I should be joining him, not overpowering him.”
Kuro glanced at Mika, and amusement flickered through his eyes. (What was Shu missing here?) Then he turned to Shu, and he was all business. “That makes sense,” he agreed slowly. “Black is easily paired with other colors as well. You can add whatever you'd like.”
“I don't-” Mika's voice came out a little higher than usual, but he hurriedly cleared his throat and pressed against Shu's shoulder. “I don't want the iridescence anymore,” he said firmly. “Or the butterfly motif. I was thinkin' we could pull from our old outfits, though. Er, not the old Valkyrie steampunk costumes. Somethin' more modern.”
Shu raised his eyebrows. “Tired of corsets?” he asked archly.
Mika flushed, but he still smiled. “They hurt after a few hours, and you know it,” he muttered, bumping Shu's shoulder just hard enough to unbalance him. Shu snorted and jostled Mika in return. “We can mix modern and Valkyrie's old style, right? Somethin' in between.”
He had a point. After all, that was the operative word for all of this: balance. Shared power.
“Well, then-” Kuro rose from his chair and offered a fierce grin. “I'll go dig out Valkyrie's old outfits. There must be something we can use.”
For three years, Shu had been stuck in a vacuum, working only with himself and shutting out the other creatives who'd tried to force their way into his art. Looking back on it, Shu realized that he'd been so terrified of losing himself that he'd refused any possible inference. No wonder he'd never felt content in Paris.
And yet, spreading materials over two desks in ES's design studio, bickering with Mika as they bumped into each other, asking Kuro to pass him materials or tools, Shu knew he couldn't have found the warmth in his chest anywhere else. It was unique to the idol industry – to the people he was with. Mika and Kuro had an easy relationship, and Shu was drawn into the atmosphere. It was... nice.
The black base made Shu's stomach turn at first (too close to those memories. Too close to his fears), but as they added more details, the similarities faded. A black shirt with loose sleeves, they decided, to maintain Monarch's elegance. Black pants, and the knee-high boots Shu and Mika had always shared an affinity for. It had potential, undoubtedly, but missed something Shu couldn't put his finger on.
Kuro identified it first.
“Color,” he announced. “You're missing vibrancy.”
An unreadable expression flickered across Mika's face. It was gone before Shu could question it, and suddenly, the shorter man leaned around him, grabbing two bolts of fabric and tossing them onto the desk.
Gold and purple.
Apprehension twisted Shu's stomach. Gold strayed too close to Valkyrie, and purple had always been Monarch's design. Granted, it had been iridescent purple rather than the deep shade Mika had chosen, but still.
Then Shu met Mika's expectant gaze, and realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, sending a jitter down his spine. Mismatched eyes... brilliant blue and vibrant amber. Slowly, he turned to his right, finding his own eyes in the nearest mirror – the same rich purple Mika had picked, almost to the exact shade.
“They're excellent complements,” Kuro decided, which didn't help Shu's internal meltdown. “What do you think, Shu?”
He didn't look at Mika again. If he did, his heart would burst.
“We can try it,” he muttered.
As soon as Mika found a golden vest tucked away in the studio's “scraps” closet, Shu knew he was powerless to resist. The style was perfect for the other Valkyrie, sleek, graceful, and just a bit otherworldly. When Mika tried a few experimental spins to ensure the vest wouldn't impede his movement, Shu ducked his head. His heart did not get the memo and continued to skip along in a perilous rhythm of adoration.
He thought he saw Kuro shoot him a curious look as Shu straightened, silently reassembling his aching heart, but the expression instantly varnished. For the sake of his sanity, Shu decided to believe that his secret was still safe.
Two hours slipped past like sand through his fingers. When Shu stepped back from the desk, pride flared in his chest. Even his cramping fingers and the crick in his neck couldn't dim his excitement.
His stomach growled, and the magic dimmed a little.
“I'm starvin',” Mika mumbled from where he'd stretched himself out over a third desk. He pulled his phone from his pocket and absently tapped the screen. “Eh, what do y'all want?”
“Pick whatever you'd like,” Shu said, and Mika nodded dutifully. They often split meals when Shu couldn't finish a whole serving.
Kuro waved a hand. “Nothing for me. I'm leaving soon, so I'll eat at home.”
Mika nodded again and put his phone to his ear, trailing off into a quiet mutter. Shu didn't bother listening; Mika knew his tastes and would pick something acceptable. Even if the food was bland, Shu didn't mind.
“Shu.”
He looked up, curious at Kuro's suddenly serious tone.
“The Monarch earring,” the taller man said slowly, and he glanced at Mika, who still wore the black and purple butterfly on his right ear. “Did you make it?”
Ha. Trust Kuro to notice the tells of Shu's craftsmanship.
“Yes,” Shu murmured. He tried to keep his gaze from Mika, but, as always, he couldn't. The shorter man was magnetic, every part of him. “Before I left for France. It was a parting gift.”
“Hm.”
There was an entire story in that noise, and someday, Shu would have to ask what Kuro had seen – why Mika had kept the earring yet hidden the fact that he wore it daily. Why Mika had made the earring part of Monarch's outfit during the debut of Ice Wine..
Another day, though. Because Kuro's thoughtful gaze returned to their half-finished outfit, and Mika rejoined them a moment later, pressing against Shu's shoulder.
“Yeah,” his muse decided. “This is a good start.”
Shu had to agree. With Mika's strengthened creative instincts and Kuro's feedback, they'd assembled something reminiscent of Monarch and their former selves while still being... new.
The black shirt and pants, with knee-high boots, were covered in scraps of potential accents and patterns. The focal points were, of course, the vests: gold for Mika and dark purple for Shu. Accents of the opposite color would highlight each other's outfits once two costumes had been assembled. Both uniforms would be intricate this time; gone were the days that Shu had the more ornate design.
Sitting above the scraps of fabric and loose stitches was a piece of sketchbook paper. Mika had scribbled out the design, and somehow, Shu couldn't imagine anything more fitting for a new motif.
A metallic heart, split into two halves – purple and gold – shattered around the edges yet glittering like a star.
“I like it,” Kuro said simply, crossing his arms.
Shu glanced over. Mika was already looking at him, mismatched eyes burning with adoration, a dangerously fond smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. When Shu met his gaze, Mika pressed more solidly against his shoulder. It didn't even seem like a conscious choice.
No one could know. No one would know, either, because Shu had lost his chance to love Mika, and this beautiful life was his personal miracle. He knew better than to ask for more.
This second chance had to be enough.
“It needs more work,” Shu muttered, and Mika bobbed his head. “But it is a suitable beginning.”
Kuro smiled faintly. “'Suitable.' Well, as long as you two like it.”
Mika's warmth crept into Shu's body at every point of contact, threatening to sink them into waking bliss. The shorter man still radiated glee and pride, and for the first time, Shu could truly partake in it with him. They had made this. They... were Valkyrie.
On an urge Shu couldn't contain, he reached down and took Mika's hand, squeezing tightly. “I do,” he murmured.
He could almost hear Mika's beaming smile. “I do, too.”