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SAKI
It doesn’t take Saki long to notice that her big brother is acting.. oddly. Even for him.
She’s twelve, he’s nearly fourteen. She’s trapped in the hospital, strung by her veins to tubes, and he comes and goes.
She aches with the loss each time, but she knows he’ll always be back the next day like clockwork. It’s a comfort to hear him drown out the beeping of her monitors.
It’s one of these visits that cements the knowledge to her.
Tsukasa waltzes in, as he always does, and the nurse doesn’t even bother shushing him anymore. Saki smiles, and it’s genuine, but her eyes are dim as she pats the space beside her.
It’s unusual for her to be so cheerful while she's stuck here, but she puts on a convincing show when her big brother is here. His shoulders are already laden with burdens without her looking like a kicked puppy.
(He’ll worry anyway, she knows. That’s what big brothers do.)
Tsukasa sits down gingerly, reaching for his schoolbag, and pulls out a rolled up magazine. Her eyes light up as she snatches it from him, his fond laugh fading into the background as she scans the front page.
It’s the same one they carry in the convenience store closest to home. The one single magazine they carry in Korean, the one she grew up reading.
She thanks him eagerly, hands flicking through the pages, and he merely chuckles.
“Oh!” Saki exclaims, “When Icchan was last here, she was telling me about this trend going around at school, right?”
Tsukasa grins at her sunnily. “Tell me more!”
“Hehe, so it’s this nail art thing, and she got me a kit that one of her classmates recommended.” She rambles, clutching at the sleeve of her brother’s gakuran. He nods along.
“Can I try it on you? Please please pleasee?! It’s totally cute, I swear!”
She feels him still beneath her fingers, eyes askance, and her head tilts slightly. That’s weird, she thinks. He’s usually super quick to say yes..
She looks at him properly. His eyes are wide, and he looks nervous. She can’t recall ever seeing him like this before.
“..We don’t have to-” she starts, pulling away, before he shakes his head.
“Nonsense! We must! I am sure you will do wonderfully, ha ha!” He declares, regular enthusiasm seeping back into his tone.
.. Perhaps she was seeing things before? But no matter. She grabs the kit from the side table and sets it on the overbed table, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Tsukasa places his hands on the table without prompting, and she grins at him sheepishly.
She’s so focused on the nails that she doesn’t look up until the first coat is drying. Her brother’s hands are surrounded by blue-coated cotton buds, and she’d been filling the silence with idle chatter while she worked. It was nice.
But when she looks up, stretching her back, Tsukasa’s smile is.. weird. Trembling, thin, almost weak. Strained, like an overworked muscle. His eyes look grey in the shadow of her window. The look doesn’t sit right on his face.
Saki frowns as she caps the bottle of polish. “.. Oppa?” She calls, eyes big and worried, and Tsukasa startles as if struck. Before she can even blink, he’s smiling in a way that’s so very familiar and so very not.
“Ah, sorry! What was that?” He exclaims, eyes askance, and his sister’s frown deepens. She peers at him, watching his hands twitch in an aborted gesture on her table.
Is he.. nervous?
“I was gonna ask if you were okay..” she starts, brows steepled. He stiffens almost imperceptibly under her concerned eye, laying his hands out flat. They still look for something to do.
Laughing boisterously, he responds, “Of course I am!”, and Saki knows immediately that she’s being lied to. hums, and drops it. Deep, deep inside, the knowledge hurts. He’d never lied to her like that before. The rest of the visit is cast in an achy kind of fog in her memory.
That look (wounded, she thinks, frightened) never returned to her big brother’s face again. At least, not when she was there to see it. Not that she remembers. It’s both a relief and a concern.
But, even in its perceived absence, she’ll think about it. Every night for a few months, keeping her up into the early morning, and then whenever she catches her reflection in the window. It won’t make sense to her for a good few years yet, but she will think about it anyway.
(That’s what little sisters do.)
TOYA
For Toya, it was an outing that clued him in. Somewhat, at least.
It was a day like any other– mid November, windy with a biting chill. Their respective schools had let out an hour or so earlier. The frost on the shopfronts saw Toya and Tsukasa, both bundled up in scarves, chatting idly as they shuffled along the high street.
“Well, Shuji-nii’s birthday is coming up. I was hoping to get him a new shirt for his recital while we’re out?” Toya says, and Tsukasa nods emphatically.
“Excellent idea as always, Toya!” He exclaims, and Toya smiles softly. “What about the boutique over there? I hear my classmates talk about it a lot!” Tsukasa points a quaint, yet pretty storefront.
Toya nods, and they hurry over and step in, taking a second to bask in the warmth. The cold is left outdoors.
The first thing Toya notices is that it’s very.. frilly in here. Bundles of lace and ribbon hemming long skirts and puffy dresses in pale blues and purples. Frilly headdresses on delicate mannequins, ribbon laced bodices. It’s pretty. Very theatrical, he supposes.
(Like the things Saki made their brother wear once upon a time. It’s nostalgic, in a way. She’d love it here.)
The second thing Toya notices is how stiff Tsukasa is next to him, ensconced in lace like a flower stamen in petals. The older boy swallows, lips twisted. His Adam’s apple bobs with the action.
Now, Toya has never claimed to be very good at reading other people’s emotions. He can read sheet music like he’s fluent in crochets and quavers, but humans have always evaded him.
But Tsukasa’s face kind of says it all. His body, too. He’s shifting side to side, wringing his hands where they rest infront of him. He looks kind of guilty. Like a child with their hand in the cookie jar.
It.. confuses him. theater costumes use lace and decoration like this all the time. Tsukasa has sewn many costumes of a similar style himself. He’s worn poet blouses, and waistcoats, and lacy jabots so showy and ostentatious that they look almost suffocating where they rest around his neck.
What makes these frills so different?
(Is it that they’re not show clothes, maybe?)
Frowning, Toya gingerly places a hand on Tsukasa’s arm. The blond’s eyes widen minutely, registering the contact, before he breaks out of his earlier fugue.
“Ah, this doesn’t seem like the kind of style you’re searcing for..” he starts, but Toya shakes his head.
“Shuji-nii actually really likes fancier outfits for his performances. It’s perfect.” He smiles here, and Tsukasa looks a little pained at the gentleness. “Thank you for suggesting it, senpai.”
Despite the clear hesitance on his face, Tsukasa smiles back. “But of course!”
He follows Toya in, and seems to relax a little when they reach the more masculine clothing, losing that ashamed look in his eyes. The younger rifles through the pile of dress shirts idly, but his mind is elsewhere.
Tsukasa-senpai was acting.. very odd today. He was avoiding looking back at the entrance, looking anywhere but at the dainty skirts and frocks on display.
(Is is the style that’s upsetting him? Do the dresses remind him of Saki?)
… No. That doesn’t feel quite right either. His shoulders slump. He’s well and truly stumped, he realises, picking up a shirt. He looks to Tsukasa with worry, holding the fabric up with a wobbly victorious smile as to not worry the other. His upperclassman shoots one back. Toya hates that he doesn’t believe it.
Quickly, he makes his purchase and they leave the boutique, back into the biting cold. Tsukasa walks a little faster than he normally does. The further they get, the more he calms, even with the drastically less comfortable temperature.
They won’t go clothes shopping together for a while, and it’ll eventually slip their minds until Tsukasa explains the real reason for the distress back there. But for now, Toya will avoid the dresses. If only for his senpai’s sake.
He hates seeing Tsukasa so uneasy.
(Afraid, his subconscious supplies. His brother was afraid, in there. But why?)
RUI
Rui has always enjoyed testing people. Composure, strength, stamina, willingness. Anything, really.
And Tsukasa was, admittedly, his favorite lab rat. Can you truly blame him? He’s such a fascinating person.
So, when Rui suggested Tsukasa take on Nene’s role in her untimely absence, he expected the usual quick, emphatic agreement characteristic of him.
Rui was, instead, was met with hesitation. It threw him for a loop, so he pulled back, but Tsukasa instead threw himself into the offered role with a vigor he hadn’t seen in him since their first show together.
Watching him now, from off left, it’s indescribable. He’s in a gown.
(It really suits him, actually. The satin seems to make him gleam like gold under the sunlight.)
“But, my lady! It’s too dangerous!” The little sparrow wails, clutching the hem of said gown with worry. The light reflects on her shiny, pink eyes as she looks imploringly at the princess. Compelling as always, Emu-kun.
Said princess looks conflicted. “I need to know, Pippin.” Tsukasa finally utters, fists clenched. “This.. place. None of it is home. I want to go home.”
Oh? Nene never recited that line quite like that.. How interesting.
Emu sniffles, expression downtrodden. “.. Stay safe, at least..” she mumbles, a hand coming to wipe her eyes haphazardly.
Tsukasa places a gentle hand on her head, the action almost motherly in its tenderness. “I’ll see you again, one day. The winds will bring you to me, like flower petals on the breeze. Wait for it.” He smiles, a tear slipping down his cheek.
Perfectly timed, as expected, Rui thinks. Tsukasa is doing wonderfully out there. It’s always so nice seeing him act. He was born for it.
Tsukasa raises the hood of his cloak to shroud his face as the princess hurries offstage to the left, coming to a stop before Rui himself. As Emu starts her solo, the director smiles at him.
“You did fantastic out there, Tsukasa-kun. Keep it up.”
Tsukasa lowers the hood, and oh. Oh wow.
He’s beaming. Eyes still glimmering with the earlier tears, his smile is wide and broad and honest in a way the boy rarely is. Ear to ear. His eyes crinkle with it. He thanks Rui in an excited whisper, but the other barely hears him over the rushing of his own thoughts.
Now this.. This is a new development.
It is very clearly news to no one that Tenma Tsukasa adores acting. It is his lifeblood, his life’s motivation. Rui has known this since the first time he caught the determination burning in his gaze when they first met.
But he’s never seen Tsukasa quite so immersed and joyful about a role. Ever.
Could it be..? He thinks, before stopping himself. No, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. But, I have only really seen that raw, actual joy in only one person before.. Hum.
He chuckles lightly.
Tsukasa-kun, you keep surprising me.
Tuning back into the real world as Tsukasa steps back on stage, Rui’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. It’s something to keep an eye on, if nothing else.
The show continues without a hitch, Tsukasa putting his soul into every word he sings and speaks. It is, in Rui’s opinion, a masterclass performance. The audience clearly agrees, if their thunderous applause is anything to go by. Nene will certainly be glad to hear it. She’d been so apologetic earlier.
Heading backstage to dismantle the scenery, he catches Tsukasa and relays this to him. The blond’s smile is a lot less true than it was a mere half hour ago, the director notices, as he thanks him in a strained voice before fleeing to a nearby storage closet to change.
Fighting the need to press and test that response, he merely nods, watching him go before returning to his task.
Through a crack in the closet door a few minutes later, Rui sees Tsukasa holding the gown he’d worn. A prettily decorated thing, strained and stretched by the blond’s firm, near punishing grip. His expression is unsuitedly grim as he practically shoves it into its box, twisted into a shameful kind of anger.
What a painful expression. Rui will have to think this over tonight, he decides
… Perhaps I should chat to Mizuki sometime soon.
SHIZUKU
Shizuku, according to her little sibling, tends to smother her loved ones in affection.
Like how she’ll always take the chance to invite her Shii-chan to eat lunch with her, and doles praise out to Minori-chan like it comes as naturally to her as breathing, and–
Well.
She could continue, but she’d be here quite a while. Needless to say, she’s a very, very affectionate girl. The people around her know this intimately, and adore her for it all the more.
So it should come as a shock to absolutely nobody that the first instinct she has when she sees Tenma Tsukasa again is to compliment him. Excessively.
What was that one thing Saki-chan had mentioned to her when they’d baked? Words of affirmation?
She looks him up and down with a graceful smile. He’s grown up so much since they’d last properly chatted! It makes her a little nostalgic, remembering the fresh-faced and shiny eyed little boy she’d played with way back when.
She relays as much to him, and he grins so sheepishly that her grace melts into unfaltering fondness. Now that’s the boy she grew up with. The one that purports such confidence, that falls to the breeze of a single compliment. Her childhood best friend.
Maybe he hasn’t changed much at all, she muses with childish affection.
“Thank you, Shizuku.” He says, shaking off his good-natured embarrassment in favor of nostalgia of his own. “You yourself have grown up wonderfully. You truly grew into your own skin.”
Her efforts being acknowledged by one of the people who’d known her before the general public– who had seen her cry over scraped knees, and had held her hand through the pain of antiseptic– is. Hard to describe. Her stomach flutters with the force of her emotions. Like a barrage of fireworks, or a swirling mass of flower petals.
Running into him here was such a wonderful coincidence.
She places a hand gingerly on her own (now flushed) cheek, eyes crinkling at the edges with the force of her smile. “Thank you too, Tsukasa-kun. You’ve gotten so handsome since I last saw you!” She hums, unknowing of the way Tsukasa’s face falls at her comment. “Where’s that cute little boy gone?”
There’s a sudden pause, a lull in the conversation. If the atmosphere had a scent, it’d be turning slightly acrid. That sudden weight pushes Shizuku to open her eyes in concern, but before she can even blink, the weight fades, air back to normal.
Back to his typical exuberance, Tsukasa grins broadly. Artificially. Like an idol, she notes.
“Why, thank you!” He bellows, and Shizuku has never really liked rocking the boat, so she merely nods.
Her friend’s eyes dart off to the left. Like reflex. It dredges up memories of him, years younger, doing the same when she would ask if Saki was alright, when he would lie and tell her she was doing great. It makes her chest ache.
She bets if she looks to his hands– yeah. He’s wringing them with a vengeance.
She’s being lied to. He’s upset, and she has no clue why.
(So he never grew out of that. The fibbing.)
If she’s being honest, Shizuku isn’t too surprised. Despite the confidence and enthusiasm he exudes, Tsukasa is far from an open book. Locked up tight, like one of her middle school journals. The one with the heart shaped lock. Perhaps that’s why he’s such a compelling actor.
Lying. Is that not what acting is, at the core of it?
(The greatest actors don’t need stages, she’s heard, and Tsukasa has always been destined for greatness. The thought is unusually pessimistic for her.)
The conversation carries on for a long while afterwards, but the previously joyful atmosphere is marred– to Shizuku at least– by the exchange. They promise to meet up for tea or something or other eventually, to catch up in detail. The idol agrees readily, but her mind is about a decade away.
It sits, in her memory, on the swing next to her friend. Before she fell into the idol scene headfirst, and before he shrouded himself away, huddled and swaddled in theater curtains.
.. She hopes that one day, he’ll allow himself to draw those curtains open. She’d love to see her ‘Kasa again.
5: MIZUKI
It’s a lonely thing, Mizuki thinks, being like her.
She knows she isn’t the only girl like her, that there are communities, and elders, and what have you. But it still feels like it sometimes. Especially around here.
Until Rui came to her a few months ago, asking for some advice for an anonymous friend. A friend like her.
Her mind kind of went blank. Like static.
He asked how to broach the topic, how to support the girl when she realised it herself. All Mizuki wanted to say in the moment was ‘You supported me just fine. Trust yourself.’.
But she didn’t, and she wouldn’t. Not really. She’s never been one to speak earnestly like that.
Knowing there was someone local that understood her did make her heart flutter a little, though. She didn’t even know the girl, but she understood her at the same time. Rui cares for her, and maybe that’s all that matters.
Being on the outside of that was weird. Is weird. Like watching history repeat.
She doesn’t think about the girl much outside of idle ponderings for a while. It’s on a random Wednesday that she springs to mind again.
She’s in her final class before lunch, watching the clock intensely. This is why she never comes in. Waiting for the lunch chime is torture. The teacher’s droning goes in one of her ears and out the other.
Akito looks over at her, deadpanning at her totally adorable and not super dramatic pout. The audacity.. she’ll have to sic Ena on him later. Justice.
As she glares at his clearly unimpressed face, the speakers chime to signify the lesson’s end. Mizuki grins victoriously as the boy looks to the noise, impromptu staring contest over.
I win, Otouto-kun. Sucks to be you. Heehee.
The doors slide open, students pouring out in a single-minded need to get to the cafeteria and vending machines. And almost immediately, standing in the doorway, is one very loud, very entertaining upperclassman of theirs.
(How’d he even get down here so fast?)
“Tsukasa-senpai!! What brings you here?” She asks, sitting on her desk and waving. The boy laughs in his usual boisterous manner, waltzing in like he owns the place.
What’d she say? Free entertainment.
“Saki was asking after you, Akiyama!” he declares, sitting in her chair where she’d left it strewn to her left.
“Ohh, gotcha! I’ll text her on LINE later. I haven’t gone shopping with Saki-chan in so long..” she groans, placing her chin on her hand.
Mizuki takes a moment to properly look at her upperclassman for the first time in a while. To be honest, he doesn’t look too hot.
His smile is the same as normal, but he has bags under his eyes covered faintly by concealer, and his eyes look a little unfocused. She frowns.
“Hey, senpai. You okay?”
Tsukasa jolts, brows furrowed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” At this, even Akito frowns from a few seats away.
“You do look a little out of it.” He mutters, before looking back to his phone.
Out of it is the perfect way to describe him, now that Mizuki thinks of it. He looks off-kilter.
She recalls an incident one of her classmates told her about from around the culture festival– Tsukasa-senpai apparently yelling at one of his juniors, before fleeing like he’d seen a ghost.
(Is that why he looks so down?)
It’s this that makes her remember Rui’s friend. Hoshi, he’d called her. He’d described her as a very dear friend, with a bright smile that he doesn’t think is always honest. A ray of sunshine, gleaming and golden and impossible to ignore. Hm.
.. Wait a moment.
She looks at Tsukasa again. Gleaming, like a star. Like his smile, when he means it. Golden, what with his hair and general demeanour. Impossible to ignore. Self explanatory.
.. Hoshi. Star.
(Rui cannot be serious. What a crappy code name!)
She looks over Tsukasa, and all she really sees is herself in junior high. Miserable, and confused, and guilty. Like the walls are caving in on you.
Her breath hitches. Her upperclassman asks if she’s alright, but all she hears is a ringing in her ears.
Oh.
So this was Hoshi. Rui was right after all.
Greyed eyes peer into hers with concern. Tsukasa had said he– they? She? They were fine.
(She should play it safe for now.)
God, it’s like looking into a mirror. She laughs off their concern, promising to text their sister and waving them off.
Akito looks at her oddly, but it’s fine.
She’s not the odd one out anymore.
+1
Tsukasa has known who she is for a little while now.
Her hair is growing longer by the day, and she’s smiling in a way she hasn’t in years. She feels so light.
The only setback, currently, is that her family has no clue why she’s so happy. Sure, her dad took a picture for her when her hair reached chin-length, but she didn’t exactly tell him why she was smiling so hard about it.
So, she’s decided she needs to tell them. Today.
In theory, it’s the perfect day to do so. It’s a Friday, both Mom and Dad are home today, and even Toya is coming to visit after school. All of her family will be there.
This doesn’t mean she’s not terrified to her very core. No, she’s petrified. But she thinks that her parents deserve to know.
She needs to apologise.
(No, you don’t, she thinks. Nothing is wrong with you.)
It’s a nice idea, until she’s sat in the lounge with her family opposite her as she struggles to find the words.
She feels like crying as Saki looks at her. “Oppa?” she calls, and her sister’s heart aches.
“I’m not sure how to tell you all this.” Tsukasa blurts, hands clenched in her lap. “But, um, I figured I should.”
“Baby, what’s this about?” Her mom asks, moving closer to rest a hand on her shoulder. The girl’s eyes water where she looks at the floor.
Steeling herself, she looks up at her sister and father and brother opposite her, and her mother to her right. Hands shaking, she speaks haltingly. “I.. don’t think I can be your son, or brother, anymore. I’m sorry.”
They all look confused, concerned. Saki shuffles closer from where she’s sitting on the floor. “What do you mean?” Her father asks. She gulps, and tries to ignore how her throat kind of burns.
“I,” Tsukasa starts, before having to take a deep breath, “.. I want to be your daughter.” She finishes, uncharacteristically quiet. “Or, um, sister.” She adds on after a moment.
The room seems to be holding its breath, what with how silent it is. Her mother’s hand clenches where it rests.
“I’m really sorry. I swear I tried.” The actress mumbles.
Her gaze is back on her lap. She hadn’t even realised she’d looked away, but she doesn’t think she can bear to look back up.
Her throat feels tight as Saki places a hand on hers.
“... I always wanted a big sister, you know.” Her little sister whispers, making Tsukasa’s gaze meet hers. She’s smiling. Her eyes are wet. “I always asked Shiho-chan if we could share Shizuku-senpai, so I could see what it was like.”
Here, Saki grins broadly. “I’m glad I have one of my own now.” She sniffles a little, resting her head on Tsukasa’s knee like she used to as a child. “Thank you for telling us, unnie.”
Oh. Unnie..
Tsukasa loses the fight with her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks in thick rivulets. She hums, lips trembling as she smiles down at her sister.
“Did we ever tell you where we got your name?” Her dad asks from the other couch, and she looks up. She probably looks a mess, with the wet cheeks and puffy eyes, but her dad smiles at her all the same.
He sighs. “One of my friends in junior high, her name was Tsukasa. She was the only friend I had back then.” He pushes his glasses up, looking at his daughters with fond eyes. “She was a spitfire. I think she’d have loved to meet you.” He stands at this, and sits to her left. He ruffles her hair cheerily, and she grins.
Her mother still seems to be processing. Toya is similarly silent, a hand to his chin. Her heart is beating out of her chest.
(Please, mama. Forgive me.)
“Ah, so that’s what it was..” Toya mumbles. He looks at his sister warmly. “Thank you for telling me, senpai.” And it is that simple to him, Tsukasa knows, and her heart wells with affection.
“... Why didn’t you tell us?” Her mother finally mumbles, face drawn, and Tsukasa hastily wipes her eyes as she turns to her.
“I… I didn’t..” the girl huffs, shaking her head. “I promised you, Mama. Remember?”
Her mother’s face shatters. “You know that isn’t what I meant, baby.” She sounds stricken as she puts a hand on her baby girl’s cheek, wiping at the tear tracks down it.
“I do now. I guess I just, hm.” Tsukasa searches for the words, but they evade her. “I wanted to be perfect for you. Easy.”
Her mother draws a harsh breath, and her brows pinch. Before Tsukasa can even blink, she’s being embraced.
There’s a hand on the back of her head, and one on her back, and Saki’s still resting on her knee, and her father has his chest to her shoulder, and she feels so loved that she can’t help but burst into tears again.
“You are perfect. You always have been. This, this–” The woman takes her hand off of her daughter’s head to gesture vaguely, before placing it right back where it was on her crown, “–changes nothing. Okay? I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me. I love you.”
Tsukasa keens into her mother’s shoulder, nodding. She turns to face Toya for a moment, expression open, and holds out one of her hands to him, beckoning. He takes it without fanfare, face gentle as he comes to sit next to Saki.
“... Does this mean you’ll go to Miyamasuzaka?” He suddenly asks, and Saki laughs wetly. Her mother huffs a laugh into her hair.
All is right, and good. Maybe she had nothing to worry about.
(But, she supposes, that’s just a her thing.)