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Takumi Sumino is haunted by the ghost of a person that no longer exists.
Not literally. Although given how his hemoanima has allowed him to travel back in time of all things, he wouldn't be that shocked if he became actually haunted by Eito. His wide-eyed, deranged stare sticks in his head like a ghoulish specter. Flashes of bright purple linger in the back of his mind, the resounding clang of his sword clashing against Eito's scythe. The version of Eito that appeared so suddenly, he'd hardly had any time to grapple with it. The version of Eito that sliced cleanly through the one he thought he knew. Cleaving him straight through the middle.
Takumi thought he knew him. He thought of Eito as a... a close friend, one of his most trusted allies. A reasonable, level-headed, supportive friend. A little too open with his feelings at times, to the chagrin of everyone around him - but he kind of liked it. He liked the warm way Eito regarded him, his sincere and passionate words. A sickly friend who tries his hardest, despite having to retreat to his room to rest when he pushed himself a little too far. Somebody Takumi wanted to root for, and trust.
And he watched all of that slip through his fingers like sand, the solid form of his lies disintegrating to ash.
The memories of his past timeline and this one swirl together in his head, mixing and crashing into each other like a horrifying dissonant symphony of noise. He has to sit down and iron everything out in his mind, has to remember exactly what has and hasn't happened in this timeline. Sort his memories into neat little boxes, because it is crucial for his success to stay completely on top of everything that is about to happen over the next one-hundred days. He needs to fix this, needs to solve everything that he so vividly remembers going wrong.
Time travel is not something Takumi has ever spent much time thinking about. Hemoanima is erratic, and strange, and completely out of bounds for the normal life he so craves. So he's dealing with everything as it comes. And maybe it's his sheer determination, or he has some weird affinity for this that he never knew about. But for the most part, it's going alright. He makes for an acceptable Team Leader, a necessary burden upon his shoulders. He's adapting to how the future is changing, the surge of hemoanima that floods through both ally and enemy alike.
It's going fine. He's doing fine.
There's no point in Takumi going to the library during his free time anymore. He spent so much of his last timeline reading that it felt pointless to do any more. Nothing in that room held any sort of advantage for him now, nothing that would aid him in changing their fate. Nothing that could help him prepare for the next battle, could serve him well to save his friends.
When he walks down the corridor, he inevitably passes by the door to the library. He won't look at it, he feels no need to look at it. It occupies his mind all the same. In the corner of his eye, he still sees Eito in there, seated at the table. A distinct splash of bright white clothing against the dull backdrop, his shoulders hunched and gaze fixated onto the book in his hands. The light fwip of crisp pages turning, the concentrated look in his blue-purple eyes. Eito would perk up whenever he'd hear Takumi walk in, greeting him with a kind smile. A warm, inviting gaze. Takumi, are you here to study too?
Eito's smile only grew whenever Takumi did join him, the latter shuffling over to take a book from the library shelf. Takumi would sit down at the table, opposite from the taller boy. He never really liked studying, but he found it surprisingly more tolerable with Eito around. Even if they didn't talk, but merely sat near each other and read their own respective books, Takumi still found some strange sense of enjoyment in it. He'd catch himself looking at Eito sometimes. Observing the furrow of his brows and the small twitches in his expression as he read. And Eito would glance up at him through his lashes, and catch Takumi looking at him, and do this- this faint little ghost of a smile like he'd just thought of something funny. And it never failed to make Takumi look away as fast as he could, lest some mortifyingly warm feeling began to creep up his face.
Takumi looks into the library. Nobody is there.
Takumi has gotten better at giving gifts. He's actually got a reasonably big advantage over his teammates, frankly speaking - while they've only known him for a few days, he's known them for far longer. He remembers snippets of conversations long gone, certain themes and keywords that clue him into their interests. And he certainly remembers the delighted looks he'd receive when presenting them with something they loved. All of this information has hitched a ride in his brain, tumbling back through time with him.
He finds himself in the Rec Room, poking idly through the Gift-O-Matic's screen. He'd slept pretty restlessly the previous night, flailing rather hard in his sleep and accidentally knocking his cup clean off his bedside table. The loud crack of it breaking had startled him awake in a panic. He'd had to crawl out of bed to sweep up all the broken pieces, lest he step on them in the morning. And by the time he was done with all of that business, the morning announcement rang, and that was the way he began his day. Frankly speaking, Takumi would always prioritise actual battle preparations over making ceramic cups in the Gift-O-Matic... but he happened to be in the area, and he'd get right back to working on upgrading his Class Weapon once he'd replaced his cup. It's just a little detour, so it's fine.
He taps on the screen methodically, scrolling down through all the options. He'll find something similar eventually, if he looks hard enough. So he scrolls, and scrolls, and his eyes catch on a particular entry, and his hand freezes.
... There's nothing... special, about this bookmark. I mean- okay, it's a colour changing bookmark, so objectively that is kind of cool, but that's it. It's just another zany product the Gift-O-Matic spits out, and the Gift-O-Matic has a lot of zany products to spit out. It's nothing more than that.
(Takumi visits Eito in the library during his free time. He ambles over to him, procuring the bookmark from his pocket. He holds it out, watches with bated breath as Eito's gaze snaps away from his book and lands on the palm of his hand. Eito glances up at Takumi, then down at the bookmark. He observes it quietly for a few long seconds, and Takumi wonders if he's seriously misjudged what kinds of things Eito likes.
Eito looks up at Takumi, and a lovely smile graces his features as he gently plucks it from Takumi's hand, their fingers brushing just slightly. He turns it over in his gloved hands and laughs, a sweeter kind of laughter that makes Takumi's chest flutter, that makes all that material-gathering for these little presents worth it. You truly understand me, Takumi.)
(Eito looks up at Takumi, rivulets of bright red blood dripping from his mouth and rolling down his chin. He grins up at him, defiant and cornered and manic-wild-pained. Blood spurts from where Takumi's sword spears straight through where Eito's heart should be. Eito shudders, and hacks out a string of coughs as he tries to say something, and then he does say something and Takumi wishes he'd just die already.)
(Eito looks up at Takumi, the bars of his enclosure separating the two. He sits cross-legged on the ground, peering up at where Takumi looms over him. If Takumi were to go to the Gift-O-Matic and make him a novel, and a colour-changing bookmark to go along with it, and slip it through the bars of this cage for Eito to snap up and read - he knows for a fact that Eito would love it. Because he's given both of those to him already, and he'd loved it then, remembers how delighted Eito had looked then.)
Takumi's fist hits the keyboard with a resounding clang, and he nearly trips down the ladder as he scrambles out of the Gift-O-Matic, through the Rec Room, and back out into the corridor. A cold sweat beads on the back of his neck. It's nothing more than that, he tells himself, over and over again.
Takumi does not go to the courtyard with the intention to spend time with Eito.
He is quiet when he steps through the doors and into the courtyard. He does not call out to greet him, like he may have done in another time. He spares Eito a mere glance in his direction, just to check that he hasn't escaped, before tearing his eyes away.
...
He doesn't quite go through with that last step. Every line of reason states that he should look away, because nothing good comes out of observing Eito Aotsuki when he's cooped up in his enclosure - unable to do anything remotely noteworthy to meddle with them. There's no point. It is a thoroughly pointless, useless endeavour.
But Eito is hanging up his laundry. It's not an easy process because the bars of his cage are not designed with the intention to hang fabric from them, but he's trying very hard. From what Takumi can see, he's apparently been given some water and detergent to wash his things with. Eito has strung up his damp bedsheets across the bars, tying the corners around them to keep it up. It takes Takumi a few seconds to realize that Eito isn't wearing his usual jacket, because that, too, is currently hung up on the bars of his enclosure. To no one's surprise, Eito's undershirt is also white.
If he were anyone else, Takumi would have been dumbfounded. He likely would have mistaken this for a sorry attempt to procure more privacy for himself, Eito trying his best to place some kind of solid wall between prying eyes and his space inside.
But he knows better. Takumi knows its because Eito is a strange kind of person who enjoys doing laundry, and that he likes the way the sunlight makes the fabric feels when it dries, wonderful and soft and fresh. He knows this, because he has seen Eito do it before - asked Eito directly about it, and that was the answer he received. Alongside a dazzling smile, and something oh-so chipper and happy in his voice. Will this Eito give him the same answer? Does that... does it matter to him? Because it shouldn't. Eito is a traitor. Eito struck his scythe clean through the very thing they'd given their lives to protect, absorbed its hemoanima and laughed hysterically as he did it. Why does it matter, how closely this Eito is intertwined with the false memories of a performer reading off a script?
Takumi turns around and leaves as suddenly as he came, forgetting all about whatever it was that he was originally in the courtyard for.
It's been a long day. It always ends up being, whenever he gathers a few of his classmates and heads out in the morning to explore outside of the Undying Wall of Flames. By the time he returns, it's completely dark, and he's exhausted. So Takumi eats a quick dinner, then gets ready for bed, then crawls under the covers and gets into bed, then ignores the sound of his doorbell ringing so he can go to sleep for the night.
The... doorbell ringing?
Takumi's eyes fly open, and he sits up. The doorbell? Who could possibly be at his door at this hour? He wasn't expecting any visitors, and his classmates don't often up at his door unannounced. Except for...
He's tired. His body and mind are exhausted. So it's not his fault that, for a brief second, Eito's kind smile flashes into his mind. Whenever his doorbell would ring, there was a very strong chance he'd open the door to find Eito standing politely outside, greeting him warmly with a little wave of his hand. Takumi would step back and let him inside, and Eito would happily stroll in. He'd close the door behind him, and they'd chat about whatever it was that brought him here. And after all that was said and done, Eito would move to leave- and he would hesitate, standing quietly in the doorway. Eito would stop and turn just slightly, just enough to give Takumi a timid little smile that shot something nervous and warm straight through his body like he'd just touched a live wire.
He gets to his feet, and takes a few steps towards the door, and then he remembers where he is and reality catches up to him all at once. It's not Eito he's going to find behind the door. He just... He just sort of came to expect it, out of habit. Like a natural conclusion, something that just felt right because it is. Was. Now, it's just another habit from those days that he needs to break.
Takumi walks up to his door, putting his hand on the doorknob and turning it. He pushes the door open.
Takumi knows the truth about Eito - how could he not, after he speared him through the heart with his betrayal? The Eito he thought he knew in his first timeline did not exist. It was a well-crafted facade, puppeteered by a masterful hand. And yet, despite how utterly and inanely stupid he feels for feeling this way... he just couldn't bring himself to believe it as entirely false. It couldn't have been. Because he sees those mannerisms, those habits and interests and likes and dislikes in this Eito. Maybe it was all a performance on a stage, but the actor was real.
Maybe it was a farce, Eito's reasons obfuscated through a skillfully weaved web. Maybe it wasn't truly authentic, not in the way Takumi thought it was, but it wasn't completely fake. That was still Eito, mask or not. And Takumi can't possibly forget about everything he did with that Eito.
Everything he went through was real to him. All that time he spent with that past Eito, all those feelings he had felt, everything he'd learnt about Eito - it was tangible, it was wonderful and devastating- it was... it was...
...
... It... wasn't real. Not in this timeline. Takumi was an anomaly, ripping himself tooth-and-nail straight out of the fabric of time and falling like sand through the cracks. In this timeline, oh so far away from where he'd started- not a single one of those precious moments had ever happened. The moments he shared with Eito, with the rest of his team, with all of his friends. None of it had truly existed to anyone except for Takumi. All he has are the shadows of memories to grasp onto.
And- god, he... he feels so fucking pathetic for this, and he'll never step an inch out of his Team Leader role to even utter such a thing to anybody else but himself- but it hurts. It tears at him like something truly awful, raking its claws down the inside of his chest and leaving him raw and unsteady. He's standing on uneven ground, knowing so much about the people around him in a way that completely offsets how they're able to see each other. Because they don't know him. They've never shared that time with him. It doesn't matter how closely he knew his versions of his friends, he is a stranger to these ones.
It's awful. It's like how he looks at Nozomi and sees Karua lingering in each one of her expressions. Nozomi, who remembers nothing about the time she and Takumi had spent growing up together. He holds onto so many memories that she doesn't have, that nobody else has, and it doesn't matter how hard he tries to push it to the back of his mind and place it in its own neat little box of "last timeline" - something familiar happens, and it all comes crawling back out.
He went back in time for a second chance, to make things right. He went in time, to a place where no one shares the experiences and memories he does, where he'll never again see the versions of his friends that he went through his first one-hundred days with. What happened to them, after he left? After they boarded the spacecraft to take them back? After he watched them leave, looked up into the sky until the spacecraft became smaller and smaller, a small speck in the sky, a little blip amongst the clouds, and then nothing at all.
A hollow sort of feeling nestles into his chest, and embeds itself next to his heart. Nothing at all. He's alone. He's so utterly, completely isolated.
Takumi throws off the covers and stumbles out of bed, in the middle of the night. He staggers his way over to his bathroom, feeling his hand against the wall until he finds the light switch. He winces and shields his face with his arm as the light assaults his eyes, shuffling over to the mirror. He lifts his head, makes eye-contact with his reflection. He tells himself that he's Takumi Sumino, the same Takumi he remembers himself to be, even if no-one else does. That everything he'd experienced was real, even if it never happened in this timeline. It was... it was his reality. Everything that had happened to him felt so real and ripped him apart so horrifically that he had no other choice but to accept it as such.
Takumi spent time with an Eito that was hiding his true self. He remembers it, but it never happened.
Takumi sees so many of his memories reflected in this timeline's Eito, in his mannerisms and habits. In the way he chooses to spend his free time. In what loves and likes and dislikes to receive as presents. In the way he talks, the way he acts, the expressions he makes. The nostalgia floods his mind, tugs at his heart and prickles at him with something he doesn't want to call longing. He remembers it, but it never happened.
Eito slips the colour-changing bookmark into his novel, closing it soundlessly. He places it on the table, then he leans over. He reaches out with one gloved hand, brushes Takumi's fringe out of his eyes. Takumi startles, looking up - looking into Eito's bright, violet eyes, at his long fluttery lashes, and meekly admits to himself just how badly he wants to kiss Eito. How desperately he wants to jump over this table between them and tackle him to the ground, to feel his lips press against his. To hear his cheerful voice, his kind laugh. To feel Eito's arms wrap around his frame and hold him so.
He remembers it.
It never happened.