Chapter Text
The music was woven deftly through the air, which lulled those who heard it into a trance. Two figures danced with a certain sense of nobility– their stage demanded your attention and painted itself in vermillion. Mika knows the shining stars on the stage very well– they're himself in the past and the person he loved so dearly. That someone being a person he cherished with his entire being yet wasn't tethered to.
Everything was ever so slightly off, but that was to be expected. This was all a "dream" he was wading through. Though, by definition, it was less of a dream. This memory– a past Mika can't and won't ever return to. He had once heard long ago that it was 'different' to experience your memories once again in a third-person view, so he opted for it.
...The melodies sung here captivated him. As beautiful as he remembered, even though he now mingled with the faceless audience. Mika had a certain sense of pride well up within him. After all, this dance unfolding before him was the artistic creation of himself and Itsuki. He painfully remembered every minute dedicated to perfection and fine-tuning their craft, the time they spent as one.
Even so, it was all water under the bridge. Even if he wished so dearly to leap and engulf himself in that river– it is a past long gone by.
He unfortunately learned a little too late in his life that the world had handcuffed Mika to the target of his misery. The so-called "other half" of his soul was someone who had thoroughly ruined him and Itsuki. That person offered them, afterward, a new foundation to rise again, built from the remnants of the very ruins of the castle he destroyed. Mika only wished he did so with less admiration in his gaze.
That person was a tyrant, to say the least– yet also an individual who loved with all his heart. He was also someone who, in Mika's eyes, threw away his affection with nary a thought. All in the name of an intangible, amorphous goal. That was the type of person on the other end of Mika's red string.
Mika was brought back to reality when the world suddenly quieted and he felt the distinct lack of anyone near him. Ah. The audience had long dispersed, and the reconstructed memory of his beloved stared down at the lingering him. A cold yet complex expression colored Itsuki’s face.
"...You. I never expected you of all people to attend one of our performances. Why are you here? Do you plan on crushing us beneath your heel again?" His beloved Itsuki spoke so frigidly. Hearing that tone being used on him stung a little, Mika admitted.
Mika was... unfortunately reminded of his current physical appearance. Mika didn't think he'd have to put on this act even in the deep comfort of his memories. A feeling singed with disgust bubbled within him. Yet, faced with himself and the target of his loyalty, his only choice was–
Mika's expression contorted into something that resembled a smile. Tenshouin's horribly angelic voice spilled out of his mouth. "Hehe. It is not illegal for me to attend something like this, is it, Itsuki-kun? I very much admire and appreciate your performances– despite how you continue to think the opposite." It wasn't a lie when one goes to the root of it. He admired Itsuki so very much that it got painful at times. And he knew Tenshouin did too, loathe as he is to admit it.
"Hmph! Do so behind the comfort of a screen next time, Tenshouin– I'd rather not have your existence sully my art by proximity." Itsuki put a hand on his hip and turned on his heel, which swiftly ended any hope of a conversation. His past self wordlessly trailed behind Itsuki, though not before he handed Mika a glare.
As he watched the back of Itsuki get farther and farther away, Mika's hand which he had unconsciously outstretched dropped to his lap. He stared at his hands stained with metaphorical blood. Maybe... donning a mask for so long had corroded his true self, staining it with that Tenshouin's colors.
No. There wasn't any uncertainty in this case. The only reason he delved into this memory was to comfort himself. He would not find anything else except blemishes were he to analyze the canvas that was Kagehira Mika. He's positive that any colors Itsuki painted originally were stripped away.
He sighed and circled back to the beginning of his existence—he remembered the first note of this terrible symphony. Mika was unwillingly stuffed into a clone of his soulmate's body. And as if that fact didn't already fill his being with nausea, that circumstance brought an ever-looming threat. It was only a scenario, despite that... If someone were to discover that he was not his tyrannic soulmate, but someone else entirely, then Mika would be swiftly disposed of via Tenshouin's hands.
...He had to become Tenshouin's shadow, just like his surname implied. Although... Mika wasn't that good at acting, to begin with. Hell, he wasn't even that smart, either, compared to Tenshouin– despite that he'd struck a deal with Tenshouin at the beginning of this unwilling charade. So long as Mika acted flawlessly as Tenshouin would and told no one who he was, then Itsuki's safety would be guaranteed. Mika took that deal without any drop of hesitation, with little regard for his well-being. He'd learn how to emulate Tenshouin perfectly if it meant Itsuki was safe.
So he thought... Even so, it tired him out. Perfecting his performance down to the most minute of details, it felt laughably like his days with Itsuki, only he was starkly alone. He had to be indiscernible from Tenshouin, or else his soulmate would crush them both like bugs. As if it were an unfortunate rehash of days past.
According to Tenshouin, he was testing long ago what would occur if he put different memories in different bodies. Naturally, because he trusted no one apart from himself, that body was his own. And thus Tenshouin had miraculously found his soulmate by chance.
Kagehira Mika began that day as Tenshouin Eichi Clone Number 448, lost and confused with a feeling of disgust piled up in his stomach. From there, he struck a deal with the devil and hid himself from his other half. And yet, Tenshouin had won the thoughtless game of hide-and-seek before it even began. Mika was found in haste, and as a consequence, he gradually rotted. Those feelings he had hung on to waned.
The memory space had been emptied by now, and Mika slowly stood. He ascended the steps to the stage and consciously ignored the empty seats that were now behind him. This performance of his wouldn't have anyone watching with bated breath. That is– except for one person.
Mika dashed behind the curtains and stopped in front of a door. In comparison, he felt no rush to open the door to the changing room. Mika knew what would stare him back if he were to peer within the mirrors that it held. Even so, he felt a little inclined to confirm his outward appearance. The doorknob twists when he grabs it.
–Tenshouin Eichi's face meets his gaze. Mika sees his expression darken as blond strands fall into view. There was no plausible way of denying what he'd become, even only outwardly.
Inwardly was another matter entirely. He pondered... when exactly did the acts Tenshouin did become not so detestable? Memories flittered through his mind's eye. There were some days when he acted in line as Tenshouin and it came as naturally as breathing. A time or two when lying to the people he cared about in the name of Tenshouin's goal no longer welled up a deep sense of guilt and self-loathing inside him. He'd “become the same” at heart, and knowing that made fear creep steadily up his spine.
Mika couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror any longer– if he did, he'd be sick. This memory re-creation was starting to leave a sour taste in his mouth. Ever so foolish Kagehira, why did you walk into the fire willingly, knowing you would get burned?
—Even his innermost thoughts were beginning to look like a crude imitation of Tenshouin. Mika willed himself awake and groggily stared at the ceiling. He pried the SSVRS goggles off his eyes; they'd served their purpose and he didn't feel like facing any recreations of his memories anytime soon.
He glanced around. This was Tenshouin's– technically their bedroom—as much as Mika hated that word choice. Unfortunately, his eyes happened to land on the person whom he had been staring at moments prior.
"Good morning, Kagehira. Hmm... ah, apologies. Good morning, No. 3. Did you have a pleasant dream?" A gratingly familiar sunny voice spoke. The sound of it made Mika think that leaving virtual reality was perhaps a horrible idea.
Tenshouin sat cross-legged on a chair as his hands flipped through some papers. As always, the bastard had an ever-present smile. What Mika would give to see it wiped off his face…
Well, there was only one 'language' mutually shared between them. "Haha. If you want me to continue to act as your double flawlessly, I'd suggest not parading my name around so openly." He shot his mirror image a smile that thinly veiled his irritation. Tenshouin could see that Mika shot him a death glare underneath, although he evidently didn't care in the slightest.
He doubted Tenshouin could do something like caring about barks with no bite when Mika's life as well as Itsuki's waltzed in the palm of his hands. Mika was all too aware that Tenshouin probably saw him as nothing more than a manipulatable doll. Their views on this matter lamentably coincided.
"Then what shall I call you, Kagehira..." Tenshouin made a show of humming before he continued, "Do you prefer just being 'No. 3,' then? I wouldn't have thought that would be the case." Tenshouin's gaze briefly settled on Mika at this question, though he swiftly returned to the papers he was so diligently reading through.
Mika wanted to say something in protest, but that want was cut short as a sudden pain shot through his skull. He clutched the side of his head. He'd spent too much time in the virtual memory recreation and it caused him to feel off. Mika hissed out a reply through the pangs. "I've been working for you for close to half of a century, and you've so far not figured that out? Do you not feel any semblance of embarrassment, Tenshouin?"
"Perhaps, but why should I feel shame over this, Kagehira? You've done a commendable job in replicating me, yet you are still a counterfeit. Hehe, if I pulled all those layers away, you would still be Itsuki-kun's Kagehira. I'll think about calling you something different when you are something different." Tenshouin's tone was light and playful. Except the intonation in his words suggested he thought of this as little more than a minor inconvenience
…It bothered him. "I don't need a prize like that. Not from you, anyway." Mika grumbled although it felt as if there was hardly any bite in his words, unfortunately proving Tenshouin right.
Tenshouin blinked to acknowledge Mika's words, yet didn't bother to give any reply. Distantly, Mika wondered if these repeating days would ever come to an end.
"Ah, that's right," Tenshouin murmured to himself. "When your hundredth anniversary comes up, would you like to return to being 'Kagehira' for a day?"
Mika does not answer. It's a blatant trap, and he does not understand Tenshouin's intent to use this as bait. Tenshouin had Mika's strings at the ready, after all– a doll was only supposed to listen and do as they're told, alert and at the ready for any tug.
Perhaps the string on Mika's finger was meant to tell him that this would be his eventual fate, regardless of his opinion on the matter.
Even if he preferred Itsuki's puppetry, there was only one answer left for him.
Mika didn't quite comprehend Tenshouin's reasoning for having him carry out a menial task like this. There was a reason he was 'No. 3' in the first place, after all– it was a shortened version of 'Eichi Number Three.' Why didn't he have one of his actual clones do this instead of him?
That was Mika's line of thinking, right up until Tenshouin casually mentioned this so-called menial task involved conversing with a certain Itsuki Shu for a prolonged time. The moment those words reached him, it was as if his limbs were suddenly replaced with stone. A small bead of sweat rolled down his face, and he desperately schooled his expression to stay neutral.
Yet, Tenshouin had found him once again through the barriers he had hastily put up.
"Hm... you immediately tensed at the mention of Itsuki-kun's name. As I assumed, you're still needlessly attached." Tenshouin's gaze seemed to pierce through him.
A shaky sigh escaped from his mouth. If he clenched his fists any harder, the nails of his fingers would dig into his flesh and he'd bleed. "It... appears so,” Mika quietly admitted.
"Despite that fact, I'm letting you do this anyway. Do you know why, Kagehira? Take a guess or two; we have the time." Tenshouin beamed. Mika wanted to shield his eyes.
He's spent more of his lifespan with Tenshouin rather than anyone else– and even so, he was an enigma. But if he was in this sort of playful mood again... whatever. "Are ya..." His accent slipped out again. Mika could not recall the last time that had happened. He coughed into his hand. "My apologies. Are you testing me for something? To be perfectly clear, I don't see why else you'd leave this to me instead of one of the others."
"Fufu... well, it's sort of like that. To tell the truth, I want to see how you've grown. Besides..." Tenshouin glanced at a wall in their room. It looked perfectly ordinary to an untrained eye, yet behind the wall held the cloning machine Tenshouin so desperately relied on.
Nervousness still bloomed in his heart. Mika couldn't help but ask, "And what if I failed to meet your expectations?" '…Would you make good on your promise and get rid of me?' Mika could not stop himself from thinking about those things.
“If it comes to that, I have the reset button. ♪ I'm sure Itsuki-kun wouldn't be too terribly mad if I used it, though it's not as if he could retaliate." A laugh left his mouth, while Mika found no amusement in those words.
He stared blankly at Tenshouin. "Ah, don't make that face, Kagehira. It's a free opportunity to practice; there's no reason why you shouldn't take it." He patted the pod situated in their room.
Right... Tenshouin was, in essence, signaling to him that Mika's life would be well and intact in case he failed, but Itsuki's wouldn't. It was everything his original promise with Tenshouin entailed– however, he would get to see the consequences of failure firsthand.
Mika opened his mouth to say something, anything, to say how some part of him still detested all of this. And yet when he stared at his balled fists in his hand, that fluttering red string brought him back to reality. He traced that string all the way to Tenshouin's hand on the opposite end, where the man sat mirrored to Mika.
Some loud, irritating part of himself quieted, and he found his mind had emptied. The words he uttered were strangely hollow-sounding.
"...Whatever it is you wish for, Eichi." He said.
"Hello, Itsuki-kun. We have not met in quite a long while... How have you been, as of late? I have some tea here– I hope it is to your taste." He smiled as Itsuki sat, though the man in question crossed his arms immediately after.
"My day was perfectly pleasant until I realized with great horror that I had to share a prolonged meeting with you. I also have no intention of touching anything dirtied by your hands." Itsuki scowled while he pointedly ignored the tea that sat plainly in front of him.
"A shame," he commented, raising the teacup to his mouth. It was unusually tasteless. Regardless, he was not wounded by Itsuki's repeated disapproval of being anywhere near something associated with him. He merely accepted that it would be the status quo concerning him and Itsuki for however long he lived.
He admittedly found it a little comedic that Itsuki's grudge for him followed him like a shadow from Earth's confines to the space station.
Itsuki breathed out, seemingly having accepted his fate. "Whatever you wish to discuss with me, do so in haste. I will not waste time when Kagehira is in dire need of some extra practice for our art. When I am thinking about all these seconds I have wasted conversing with you when I could use it for better means leaves a rather sour taste in my mouth, Tenshouin." His distaste remained an ever-constant. Although…
"Kagehira-kun..." He murmured at the mention, setting down the tea. An unexplainable feeling raced through him, yet he did not voice this discomfort.
"What? Were you saying something?"
"No, my mind simply wandered off for a second, Itsuki-kun." That name felt suddenly so foreign on his tongue. This was how he usually called Itsuki, right? In the end, he chalked it up to simply not having seen Itsuki in a long while. They were quite busy with their respective jobs in the space colony.
That made sense to him. His eyes settled on the teacup, which still steamed in front of him as thoughts came and went, and he stared for a moment or two at the cup.
Which was lengthy enough by Itsuki's standards that he began to be quite furious. "Please do not tell me you distracted me for some meeting just so you could re-enact Narcissus admiring himself in the water. Does my plight somehow bring you joy, Tenshouin?"
A fascinating question. "Hmm..." He seriously pondered on it. "No, I do not believe that to be the case. Or perhaps it is...? I'm sorry, Itsuki-kun. At this moment, I cannot quite remember." He mumbled, Itsuki not holding a single glance from him as this teacup seemed to hold all of his attention.
Itsuki fell silent. It was a strange reply to his question, even more so when coming from someone like Tenshouin. That was also besides the fact that he was told some rather concerning things earlier in the week by a certain Sakuma. And by "concerning", Itsuki means to tell that he nearly fell ill from the shock upon hearing his words. Rei had, in short, told him to 'act normal' after being privy to such a thing.
"Kagehira," he started. (This was not "acting normal" by any means.)
"...Yes?" Tenshouin finally looked up from the somehow enthralling glass into his eyes. This was, by some measure, the most surprised Tenshouin had ever appeared in front of Itsuki.
...Were Tenshouin's eyes a lighter shade of blue than Itsuki remembered? Regardless, he continued to question. "You mumbled Kagehira's name earlier, did you not? I simply want an explanation as to why. You can do that much, at the very least, for calling me here and not elaborating on why. I am quite sure both of our time is rather precious."
He noticed the blonde's lips turn into a thin line at that. Tenshouin's behavior was irregular. From the way he carried himself, to his manner of speaking, it was close but not quite. Itsuki was beginning to have an inkling that Rei's outlandish claims were possibly true.
And what a hellish nightmare it would be if that were the truth.
"You mentioned Kagehira-kun, so I realized I had not seen him in a long period of time, either.” Tenshouin tried to offer, yet he was becoming more visibly distressed in a manner that was familiar to Itsuki.
The issue was that it was Tenshouin who exhibited these behaviors.
Itsuki sighed, though with less vexation in his tone. "You're awfully taut, Tenshouin. In the years that I have, to my misfortune, known you, I've never seen you appear like a deer in headlights."
"..." He had no reply to give to the Itsuki in front of him.
And suddenly, he remembered. His emptied mind filled, as if a dam had broken and everything that was Mika came and occupied his consciousness. Oh– oh god. What was Mika doing? He couldn't recall why he was here in the first place. Why exactly was he talking with Oshi-san again? Why were they in space? Why was he looking at him like that? Why, why, why, why—
"...Tenshouin?" Shu looked at him with a bewildered expression. If you allowed Mika to indulge in his delusions, he would even believe sincerely that there was a drop of concern directed at him.
But why would he ever show concern for that Tenshouin? Shu was oblivious to the thoughts racing through his head, or the fact that Mika was even here at all.
He – he couldn't breathe. A disgusting feeling crawled up his spine and Mika's hand swiftly covered his mouth. This wasn't him. This wasn't his body. Or maybe it was? It wasn't? Isn't he a doll that was stitched to look like Tenshouin?
Wetness gathered in the corners of his eyes. Worst of all, through the blackness that swam through his vision, Shu seemed to have a realization dawn on him, a familiarity in his eyes that crossed his features. Mika's hand switched to prop up his head and he watched as Shu stood up and ran to his side.
Shu said something to him. And Mika said words in reply that he couldn't understand or hear. He may be breathing too fast, or it's likely he's not breathing at all.
Mika doesn't know. Mika doesn't know. His thoughts, which spiraled and spiraled, weakened him and he unceremoniously lost his balance, his head landing against Shu.
It was only when he collapsed against Shu that he remembered this one's number– Itsuki Shu number 207. Upon the affirmation that he would be the reason for 208's existence, the overwhelming guilt swallowed Mika and brought upon him unconsciousness.
