Chapter Text
It was like any other day.
She was walking through the rain in the bustling city after school.
Every day was the same. Wake up early, get ready for school, work hard for the rest of the day, and go to sleep.
So why did her mind feel so busy this time? It felt so loud, so crowded with voices that weren’t her own. Close, but not quite hers—
No, did she know what her own voice was to begin with?
Normally she’d try to block out the noise. This time she found herself listening—or at least trying to, but her ears weren’t hearing anything other than the overlapping chatter and bustle of the crowd.
She walked the route to her house by practiced habit, finding her way through the large crowd of people. Shoulders brushed against her own, umbrellas hit together over peoples’ heads, the rain pattering on her clothes and skin…
It was too loud. She was so used to this. She’s adapted to this daily routine. What was wrong now?
Like her body was still on autopilot, she was moving ahead and weaving through people without much calculation, which unfortunately only left more room for her mind to wander. More time to think. And thinking wasn’t being proven as mentally benefiting right now.
Every feeling, every sound, every light, it all mixed together in her head to create a deafening static. Her thoughts sounded like her own despite being unable to identify the speakers. It grew dizzying.
She didn’t notice when her hands had tightened so harshly around her umbrella’s handle, or when her walking pace picked up, or when her head hung low, avoidant of everyone.
She wasn’t normally like this. If she knew anything about herself, it was how she acted around others. Perfectly composed and modest.
Yet she ran and pushed through the crowd while a silent voice yelled at her to get to safety.
She pulled open the front door, pausing a moment, before silently stepping inside the house. Her body was stiff and her expression completely blank as she kicked off her shoes. Normally, she would’ve been surprised to hear nobody else moving about in the house, but right now it didn’t faze her.
Everything felt empty. She didn’t know why.
When had she ever known?
Briefly looking over the handwritten note stuck to the fridge door was all she needed to assume her mother wouldn’t be home until later. Not that she really thought about it. She just knew.
She looked at the note again for a moment, eyes fixed on just the greeting of the note: Mafuyu.
She didn’t feel anything reading that name.
Body still stiff and soaked from the rain, she walked up the stairs to her room and closed the door behind her, taking a seat at her desk with her laptop. She opened it up and logged in quickly with practiced taps of her keyboard and clicks of her mouse. With her mother not home, she had some time to spare. Time to herself.
The mouse cursor hovered over the most familiar violet application icon before clicking twice to open it, navigating the desktop and app with great ease. It would’ve looked productive if it wasn’t an online communication platform. She already knew that her friends would see the notification that she logged on.
>Welcome home, Yukiii~! was the first response her presence earned from a familiar pink and blue user icon.
>Good evening, Amia. she typed in response. She assumed the others either hadn’t logged on yet or were working offscreen, so she didn’t wait for the others to respond before moving on with her own work. >I’ll go ahead and start working on the lyrics.
But as her mouse cursor hovered over the file explorer, she felt a pang of something that made her hesitate to open the file of the group’s next song’s lyrics she was writing. It wasn’t something she physically felt, but like something was trying to tell her otherwise. She didn’t want to focus on Nightcord at 25:00 right now, despite just logging on and saying she would—her eyes instead drifted down to the file next to it, simply named “OWN.txt”.
OWN... It was a name she went by before meeting the others in person. Despite the irony of not understanding herself, it resonated with her in a strange way. Just like how the alias Yuki did.
Sometimes.
Sometimes only one name felt attached to her. Other times none. It was a phenomenon she couldn’t quite grasp, considering she had only gone by her one and only given name all her life. It must just be part of the package of acting differently around others, like everyone else always does. It must be. She just didn’t know about it beforehand.
Yes, it’s the only logical and truthful explanation. Even if she felt empty and lost, she was just like everyone else that worked to the top, no exception.
She was sure of it.
Her focus shifted between the rough draft of the lyrics on paper and her laptop as she typed out her finalized version. She treated it as though it was a school assignment, but this felt much more natural. Sometimes she almost thought that OWN was her true self – whatever that meant. Her fingers tapped a few more keys on the keyboard before pulling away at the finished work, each line properly typed out in a bland notepad tab. Click by click, she resaved the file and set down the rough draft paper in her hands, before looking at the Nightcord window still open on the desktop.
Almost as if on cue, she received a notification, >Yuki, are the lyrics finished?
…Right. She was supposed to write lyrics for their group’s song. Not OWN’s.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt an irritated tug as she read the notification’s message, a muffled “Why can’t we do our own thing?” rang in her thoughts from somewhere unknown, but she quickly brushed it off and replied back.
>It’ll need a bit more time. She half lied. “A bit” may as well be a severe understatement with how unfocused she’s been.
Her mind has been so scattered lately, when she was typically so organized and composed. She didn’t know what it was, it was just…busy. Crowded. But she’d rather not try to dissect that issue right now.
She should get back to work before she lets down the others by being late.
He wasn’t so sure of it.
The red cushions of the theatre’s seats silently creaked beneath him as he leaned back. One hand brushed through his violet hair in growing frustration, fighting the urge to pull at it.
The dim lights shone down on the stage before him. The woman performing on its floor worked diligently. The spotlight wasn’t on her, but it was still her time to shine. More than him, anyway.
He didn’t know what to say. To be honest, he never knew what to say, or if he even should say. It wasn’t like she’d remember later or heard him try to communicate clearly, but that was frustratingly out of his control.
Despite his irritation, he couldn’t say he was ever necessarily angry. He was part of this too.
Speaking of people who are part of this, he thought, turning his head to the person sitting a fair number of seats away from him.
Before he even spoke, they turned their head away in slight shame as his gaze burned into them.
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Yuki. Mafuyu’s been on Nightcord all night.” He spoke up, his sharp eyes’ focus alternating between the stage and the other.
The other person sighed, their voice just above a mumble, “I didn’t feel like interfering with you, OWN.”
He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. It was true that he shared most of, if not all, of Mafuyu’s negative emotions and experiences, which was how she came to compose her own music with his help. Well, not necessarily with his help – he was outright doing it by himself on her behalf – but if it got any closer to helping her understand, he’d do it.
Even if she never remembered a thing the next morning.
Even if he grew increasingly more frustrated watching others mistreat her. He knew better than to stand up so he didn't end up hurting her.
Even if he knew it would be worse to make himself known to her—forbid anyone else.
At least he was trying to improve her. For their sake.
Yuki was doing their part, too, although less frequently. Unknown to Mafuyu, they’re also the most familiar with the other Nightcord at 25:00 members and talk to them regularly. When once under the stress of running away from Mafuyu’s life at home, Yuki came to take the pain away. They’ve always been much quieter, but OWN doesn’t mind. Mafuyu can hardly hear either of them, if at all, anyway.
Mafuyu did her best to ignore the distracting buzzing in her mind as she worked through the full rough draft of the lyrics.
She clicked on the Nightcord voice chat with everyone already present. With a tap she unmuted her microphone.
“Yuki! You finally joined the call! Jeez, did you get lost or something?” The cheerful voice on the other end teased.
“Then, the outline of the lyrics must be ready…” A soft voice followed, one that Mafuyu could recognize better than anyone.
She nodded, despite knowing none of them could tell. “Yes, I’ll send it over to you now, K.”
“Thank you, Yuki.”
Yuki, huh. Her mind circled back to her previous thoughts of trying to understand why some things felt so natural and others didn’t. Her real name is Mafuyu; her Nightcord alias is Yuki; her solo artist name is OWN. It’s as simple as that, right? There’s nothing personal or deep behind it.
At least, it wasn’t intended to be. After all, she could only be aware of the side she wants to show to others. Not what lies beneath the cover.
Who else – what else – also lies within.
Yuki had taken their place up on the stage next to Mafuyu. Watching over her shoulder, responding to comments from the others in a voice that exactly mimicked Mafuyu’s. Or maybe that was just because it was the voice that the others were already used to hearing over the speakers.
Frustration silently jabbed at OWN’s thoughts as Mafuyu questioned his actions without even believing he existed at all. He wanted to answer. He wanted to shout out loud enough for her to hear. He wished he could. But he knew for certain that it was her conscious decision to block his voice out.
What was he thinking? It wasn’t like he knew any better why he was there when he was always just ignored.
But maybe it was for the better, considering that Yuki had much less harmful defense strategies than he did.
Had he been given the choice, he would’ve told Mafuyu to argue back, to defend her free will and freedom to do whatever she felt was best. Unfortunately they both knew how poorly that’d turn out.
Sometimes, it irked him to see Yuki solve problems by running away. In their defense, it was the event of stress they found themself in their earliest memory, but it only provided temporarily relief and not a long-term solution. But sometimes things just had to get done.
And right now, all that had to get done was Mafuyu’s success in school. And the lyrics for Nightcord. Not OWN’s writing. Not making himself known to Mafuyu.
He’d have to stay silent until the next time it happens.