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Michinaga was consistently confused by his new companions.
They were nothing like any Riders he’d ever encountered before. None of them seemed self-serving, save perhaps Daiki who was very self-serving, but not in the way he was used to.
Yusuke and Daiki both tended to help out the old man in the kitchen, weaving around each other with practiced ease. One or more of them helping to develop film or set up shoots, a new photo occasionally showing up around the Studio, double exposed or some other weird effect.
Natsumi was also always ready with a first aid kit, jumping to help with practiced skill and knowledge to patch them up from whatever injury they might have had. Sometimes her grandfather was there, but with the three who’d been here first she knew what she was doing and usually patched them up on her own.
Breakfast was, warm. Warm and comforting and welcoming. Walking into the kitchen in the morning usually showed at least one or two of them already there, often smiling and laughing with each other. And then they noticed him and smiled and greeted him.
Like they were happy to see him. Like they wanted him there.
Like he wasn’t lying in wait to crush them all the moment he had the power to.
And, the way they looked at each other.
The way Tsukasa flicked whipped cream to land on Yusuke’s nose at breakfast, making Yusuke go cross eyed while Daiki hollered in laughter and Natsumi chided Tsukasa.
The way Daiki would grin, smug, getting more and more bold where they sat in the main room before someone got fed up and smashed a pillow into his face to get him to shut up.
The way they collapsed on each other, how one walking in made the others brighten up, how comfortable they were with each other.
All four of them were dating, Natsumi had said.
Michinaga hadn’t imagined that was possible, dating between Riders. With the competition of the DGP, the tensions always present, the fact only one could win…
It was just a waste of energy. Besides, outside of the game they’d never even remember you.
Heartbreak waiting to happen, that’s all it was.
But, the rules were different here, he was learning.
No competition, no risk of forgetting. Just four people who loved each other dearly and deeply.
(Four people who loved each other and for some reason decided he was worth welcoming into their little family, if in a different way.)
It almost made him wonder, and he’d been doing a damn good job of not doing that up to now.
But as time dragged on, as he spent more time around them, around their smiles and laughter, their insistence to include him in things with them, it got harder to ignore the creeping thoughts.
Memories of some of the Riders he’d fought alongside, their faces and smiles.
A bright and happy smile, bouncing and grinning, almost shining with light. A wish for real love. The way she had gasped in delight at the simplicity of the clothing options for their uniforms. Appearing right when she was needed to get him out of trouble, her smile at their reunion in the next game.
A softer, more shy smile, sweet and gentle and hopeful. A desire for peace, and then to save those lost. A request to work together, a belief that you didn’t have to do it alone. Giving up a serious advantage to help his teammate, without regret. Getting roped up in a round as a civilian, remembering and then insisting on fighting alongside them, forcing his way back into the game. Fighting to help people, completely selfless and wanting to help others.
And then the last one he tried hardest to ignore, and found it the most impossible to do so.
A confident smirk, knowing and smug. An air of being above it, and yet still walking among them all at their level. Telling you to keep fighting and you can get your desire, and then turning around and telling you he’ll win regardless and so it didn’t matter.
(The thoughtful look as he pressed the man’s finger to his broken Core, the way he spat out his last words. The feeling of the man’s arm at his back, supporting him as he struggled to breathe, feeling himself flicker, every pore of his being in pain while he died. And then, nothing, until he woke up.)
Some of them he understood, the consideration at least. The last one he didn’t quite as much, but he didn’t want to think about it anyways and so didn’t put much thought into it.
It didn’t matter anyways.
Michinaga might be free of the grip of the DGP, untouchable by the staff and administration, but the others weren’t. They, and their memories, were still bound by the rules of that ‘game’.
He might be playing by different rules now, but they weren’t. Not to mention that only one of them even knew he was alive.
Heartbreak waiting to happen.
It was one of the days where he’d gotten fed up with being around them, the atmosphere so vastly different from what he was used to and so he just needed some time away. They were all understanding of that, thankfully, and would give him space when he needed it.
Something landed on his stomach and he blinked his eyes open, looking down to find a single yen coin there.
“What?” He asked himself, holding it up.
“For your thoughts,” Tsukasa’s voice called, and Michinaga sat up on his bed to find him leaning on the doorframe.
He scoffed, dropping back down and rolling over to face the wall. “I thought I said today was a day I didn’t want to be around everyone,”
“You did,” Tsukasa agreed. “But you skipped breakfast, and then missed lunch. Natsumi and Yusuke are getting worried,”
“And?”
“I offered to come up to see if you were hungry, and to offer to bring your portion of supper up later if you weren’t,”
Michinaga frowned, rolling the coin between his fingers.
“You seemed pretty deep in thought there,” Tsukasa said into the silence. “I’m willing to listen, if you’d like to talk about them,”
Michinaga let his arm drop, stifling a sigh.
How did he even begin with something like this? And with the man who’d promised to help him reach his goal of crushing all Riders of all people?
The silence dragged on, and then Tsukasa sighed. Michinaga almost believed he’d left before the bed dipped near his legs.
He glanced over to see Tsukasa had sat down next to him, looking at the wall across from them.
He didn’t say anything, just sat and waited.
It took several long moments before Michinaga finally yielded.
“What happens when it’s over?” He asked, voice quiet but still sounding loud in the silence.
“When it’s over?” Tsukasa echoed.
“Taking down the DGP,” he elaborated. “When it’s all over and dismantled and, gone. The DGP owns the memories of the people who compete, you get dropped and you lose everything, even,”
He trailed off, finding himself veering into a topic he wasn’t sure he was ready to tackle.
“Even?” Tsukasa prompted.
“Even the people they met,” he finished, not able to look at Tsukasa as he barely avoided his voice cracking.
Tsukasa hummed, and his weight shifted slightly on the bed.
“You’re scared of being forgotten,” Tsukasa guessed.
It wasn’t what he was dwelling on but, there was that too. The idea of walking up to someone he’d fought alongside and seeing their face scrunch in confusion, the question of “Who are you?” being asked, knowing there was no way to answer that question in a way they’d believe.
(The lack of recognition on the tanuki’s face when they met again before he got his memories back, the way he ignored the slight pang in his chest.)
(The confusion from the fox before he’d forced those memories back to the surface to yell at him properly.)
“Something like that,” he mumbled, trying to shrink into himself.
God, he hated this. Hated admitting weakness or vulnerability to someone, to another Rider. It could so easily be used against him.
There was a small voice in the back of his mind, small and quiet but there, telling him Tsukasa wouldn’t do that, none of them would. He was safe here, they wouldn’t try to take advantage of him.
He didn’t know when the voice had shown up but it was speaking up more often, and was starting to piss him off.
Tsukasa didn’t respond for a long moment, and then he got up.
He almost thought Tsukasa had left, the jackass, but then the weight on the bed returned, and a hand was on his arm.
Tsukasa pressed something into his palm and closed his fingers around it, and then retracted his own hands.
He frowned, feeling eyes on him as he brought his hand up and opened his fingers.
His ID Core, now pin-magenta with the gold cracks filled in.
He didn’t say anything immediately, just turned to look at Tsukasa.
“You get your memories back for the next round by touching that, right?” He asked.
Michinaga nodded, not sure where he was going with this.
“I left that feature in place,” Tsukasa went on. “The DGP can’t touch you, and that means they can’t touch your memories either. As long as you have that you won’t forget, and that means you can remind anyone you want of what happened there,”
He turned back to look at it, the purple buffalo head looking back at him from behind the gold lines.
It could still return a person’s memories.
He closed his fingers around it again, tightly, ignoring the way it bit into his palm.
He had a way to remind them.
That, was comforting at least. A little bit.
It would be no fun to finally beat them if they didn’t remember who he was after all.
Yeah, definitely the only reason he was comforted.
(It had nothing to do with imagining a cat’s bright eyes light up as memories returned, or a tanuki’s soft smile as he said a newly remembered name, or that frustratingly familiar smirk aimed at him as though the fox knew this would happen from the start.)
Definitely just comforted because beating them would be more satisfying if they remembered.
Tsukasa’s hand patted his leg twice. “Natsumikan put your portion of lunch in the fridge for you, if you want it,” he said, squeezing once, gently, before getting up. “I’ll bring supper up for you if you don’t show,”
Footsteps, and then,
“And if you ever want to talk, about anything, we’re all willing to listen,”
And then the click of the door closing, and when Michinaga looked up again he was alone in the room.
He turned back to his ID Core, frowning.
The others might be trapped by the DGP for now, but eventually the DGP wouldn’t be there to control them, to hold their memories hostage. And when it was all over he had the power to remind them of what had happened, of every fight they’d shared.
He held the key to reminding the people he fought alongside of why they were fighting.
And maybe, when they were free of the strings of the DGP-
No, thinking like that, the sort of hope it would foster, wasn’t helpful. It wouldn’t get him closer to his goal. And besides, even if he did remind them, after everything he’d done, everything he’d said, there was no way they’d-
Heartbreak waiting to happen.
He didn’t fetch lunch from the fridge, but he did come down to join them for dinner.
They lit up seeing him, happily scooching chairs around and waving him in to join them.
He once again had to take a moment to take in how quickly they’d rearranged their lives to fit him in, adjusted to his presence. How happy they seemed to be to have him around, even in spite of his continued insistence he’d crush all Riders, them included, one day.
Welcomed into their little family of misfits from around the Worlds without question or hesitation. Like it was only natural he was here with them, even if he joined them a decade late.
He still wasn’t sure what to make of all the things he was suddenly questioning, but, his ID Core was in his pocket, and he felt a little better knowing he could control at least that much.