All fics written for Eitaku Week 2025. Use the list below to jump around!
“Hey, Aotsuki.”
Eito—Eito Aotsuki.
From the moment they met, Takumi knew he’d need to keep an eye out for him. Eito’s health problems cropped up more often than Takumi felt comfortable putting aside. Whenever he groaned or looked sick, Takumi always stepped in with a concerned eye. Asking if he needed a break. An escape. To step aside.
Call it wanting to feel useful, label him a protector, it didn’t matter. He was just being a good friend to the sickly, socially awkward guy. Not that he thought of Eito as all that awkward. Putting side some overfamiliarity and forwardness, he seemed normal.
So Takumi tried to remind him, anyways.
Despite keeping all this in mind, though, things always happened outside of one’s control, no matter how hard they tried to predict the future.
It happened a couple hours after setting out on an expedition. They only needed some supplies, so he nabbed the two most helpful people he knew, Eito and Nozomi, to help him gather it all. They managed through the abnormal amount of battles, only to discover, at the heart of it all, a swarm of dangerous bear commanders ready to rip them limb from limb.
Despite it all—despite the worst, they managed to hold them off. To create an escape through the crowd, back to the school.
Until Eito collapsed. And Nozomi, the kind, nice girl she was, ran to rescue him from his fate. Takumi turned around and watched as a bear swung down at Nozomi, and did the only thing he could.
He did the only thing—
“…You could…”
“…umi…?”
“Ta…ku….n…”
Takumi’s eyes snapped open. “Karua!?”
Of all the faces to yell that embarrassing assumption at, he shouted it at the concerned face of Eito, who stared back with a blank expression as Nozomi looked away, frowning. Shit.
He clenched his jaw, and after a moment to regain his composure, he said: “Sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s fine,” Eito said, smiling in a way Takumi had to look away from. “I’m glad you’re okay, Takumi. How are you holding up, Nozomi?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “But, you…”
“Huh?”
Nozomi frowned, and putting a hand on Takumi’s shoulder, sent a shock of pain through him. He must’ve reacted bad—she wrenched away with a horrified expression as she turned Takumi onto his side. Eito scrounged through a bag and pulled out a tube of ointment, squeezing out a big white glob before spreading it over Takumi’s back in slow, deliberate motions. The burning pain ebbed out and faded for a comforting numbness.
Eito patted the wound—nothing happened. “We found a first aid kit in the ruins,” he said. “We’ve been using the numbing cream to keep your wound from hurting. Once the invaders give up on us, we’ll return to school, so please, I know we’re asking a lot, but we need you to stay strong until then.”
Another pair of fingers reached out, finagling through the clumps and stickiness smeared through Takumi’s hair, breaking it all up and returning it to a comforting normality. Nozomi finished her work and folded her hands in her lap.
“We’ll do our best to keep your pain down,” she said with her usual, soothing voice, “and then we’ll carry you back. Ah, but…we had to remove your…”
His shirt, he thought. When she didn’t finish, he let her be.
They sat in silence for a while. The only sound which dared to reach them, the cries of the invaders as they stormed outside the building the trio sheltered in, echoed and rung and reached, but never quite touched.
Nozomi stood up.
“I have an idea,” she said. “I’ll try to drive away some of them. Maybe, if they think there’s a disturbance somewhere else, they might leave us alone.”
“No!” Takumi yelled. “You—ngh…”
Though the numbing cream provided some relief, with enough stress, pain broke through, sending Takumi to silence as Eito spoke instead.
“…You look serious,” he said. “I don’t think I can change your mind on this—but please, be careful. We’re relying on you.”
Nozomi smiled and picked up her gun. “I’ll be counting on you, Aotsuki.”
Eito nodded back, and after digging her heels in the scuffed, cracked floor, she took off. Takumi wheezed, struggled to string his words together and find the magical formula that’d get her to stay, but nothing came to his lips. Nothing but silence. Nothing but—
“Takumi?”
Eito looked down at the sickened young man. He kept running his hand over Takumi’s wound—the numbed part, at least. Maybe he waited to see if it was waring off so he could apply some more?
“You’re both okay?” Takumi said.
Eito pursed his lips. “Yes. You protected us. And now, we’ll protect you. You’re my precious friend—I’d never want anything to happen to you. Just say as quiet as possible, and we’ll make it through just fine.
“You can do that, right?”
Takumi blinked. “Uh…yeah, of course.”
A weird ask. Not like Takumi could feel any pain right now. No matter how much Eito touched him in all his most vulnerable places.
For a while, it felt fine. Hearing the noises of the invaders drawn away thanks to Nozomi’s efforts pained him, but even if he could move, Takumi’s efforts would only get everyone killed. He brought these three out, he should’ve been more attentive to Eito’s condition, he should’ve done a better job of protecting them—
“Ow!”
Eito hit the edges of his wounds, the only parts unaffected by the cream. “Oh, sorry,” he said, positioning himself out of Takumi’s line of sight.
“…’S cool,” Takumi said, gritting back the pain. He had to keep his screams back—even his small shout managed to earn a glanced from a passing invader, only for it to keep running like nothing happened.
Right.
They couldn't know. They couldn’t—
“..! Ngh…augh…oh...”
If only it ended there. But whatever Eito was doing, whatever he thought he was doing, it didn’t stop. “I’ll try to ease the pain,” Eito said, and pure white blinded Takumi’s ears from there. Whatever Eito did to ease the agony didn’t work, it didn’t work, but the way he finagled and dug his fingers into those open, vulnerable rips forced Takumi to bite his lips unless he wanted to scream.
Deft hands pulled at shredded skin and furthered the wounds, displayed bright red skin torn raw. Warm and thick streams of blood trickled down and burned, burned burned burned—!
A yelp boiled at the edges of Takumi’s lips. Only once he swallowed it odwn did he turn around, grab Eito’s hands, and mouth the words please, stop.
Eito stared down at him.
Maybe it was this lingering agony, but Takumi swore he saw…something—
“Is…everything all right, Takumi?” Eito said, eyes watery and pitiful and in need of some kind of validation, anything resembling it. “Did I help?”
Takumi pursed his lips together. He should’ve felt angry—probably, he did, but the emotion failed to reach his brain as the pain ebbed, as footsteps approached from outside, towards the pair. Before Nozomi returned, before she drew close and stole Takumi’s attention away once more, he smiled.
“Yeah. You helped—thanks, Aotsuki. But…don’t worry too much about me, okay?”
“So, how far does this therapy go, anyways? If he’s anything like Eva…”
Kurara grinned, holding a hand out to Eito. “C’mon,” she said, her usual sneer armed and aimed for his response. Eito looked down at her hand, wondering. She bobbed it up and down. “Shake.”
“Oh…” His eyes widened, and as if compelled by a string of implanted compulsions, he grasped Kurara’s hands and gave it a small shake. “Like that?”
“Hmph—it’ll do,” Kurara said, proud smile pulling at her lips before she turned to Takumi. “It’s your turn, now.”
Takumi, head over a bowl of ramen, sputtered his soup out before he dropped his chopsticks in the broth, grimacing at the mess before turning back to Kurara in bewilderment. “Wh—hey, he’s not a dog. Aotsuki, you’re not a dog, okay?”
Eito smiled, aiming a peace sign at Takumi. “I can be anything you all want me to be. If it brings the bright light of hope onto my friend’s shivering hearts, I’ll even get on all fours and bark!”
“Is that so?” Kurara snickered. “Then go on.”
Takumi stared as Eito not only fell to the ground and barked until Kurara got bored, but even let her hop onto his back and ride him like a horse around the cafeteria. Takumi regretted getting up so late and getting roped into her weird shenanigans, but at least Kurara knew when to let the poor guy get some rest and left the pair be to finish their lunch.
…Man, maybe it was the salty, unhealthy broth he gulped down, but something in Takumi’s stomach flipped. He turned to Eito as the other man slid back into his seat to finish his (healthy looking, Takumi noted) breakfast.
“You don’t need to do everything she says, y’know,” Takumi said, but Eito shook his head with a smile.
“It makes her happy,” he said, as if her smile held the same worth as a million dollars. To his addled, altered state of mind, it probably did. Takumi could only imagine the kind of junk Sirei loaded in there to turn Eito into something like this. Then again, considering the kind of person Eito had been before—what was better? What brought less suffering?
Well...
No.
Even if Takumi pondered it until the day he died, it wouldn’t change anything. Sirei handled Eito, and Takumi having a fit about it wouldn’t change that. All he could do was accept the person Eito became and keep going, for the sake of protecting everyone.
Eito included, really.
As strange as that felt. In their first attempt, Takumi did everything he could to protect the other man alongside everyone else, so it all fit into place. Still—Takumi wished Eito mustered up more of a spine at moments like this. At least some harmless bristling, shrugging off those weird demands instead of just giving in.
Something closer to the Eito he used to be. But not quite antagonistic, a comfortable middle ground between the two.
Takumi pushed his bowl away. “Aotsuki, you can’t let people push you around like that.”
“Hm? Why not?”
“Why—because, thinking about it, how does treating you like a dog make anyone but Ooszuki happy?”
Eito frowned, putting his chopsticks down. “Does it make you unhappy?”
“Does that matter?” Takumi said.
“Of course it does! If it makes you unhappy, then I’ll take with Kurara and see if we can keep our antics out of your sphere of comfort. If you don’t see it, it won’t bother you, right?”
…Eito wasn’t messing with him, was he? No—he didn’t have the capacity for that anymore. Still, the ache pounding in Takumi’s head made a strong case for otherwise. Takumi’s mouth flapped open.
Then—shut.
Did Eito not have the capacity for hate anymore? Not even an ounce of it? Takumi knew he shouldn’t dwell on it, but…well, maybe it wasn’t so bad to consider the possibility. He never once missed Eito’s persistent misanthropy and cruelty—and by getting Eito the needed treatment, he did what he had to do as the leader. But he didn’t know much about the process Sirei pushed Eito through, and the seed of doubt itched at Takumi until he blurted out the first thought to come to mind.
“Hey,” Takumi said, opening his arms, “give me a hug.”
…
Seriously?
Takumi wanted to throw himself in a blender for thinking of something as stupid and intimate as that, only for Eito to hit him (maybe, almost with the force of a literal punch) with a big grin.
“Of course! Anything for my best friend.” Eito leaned in and enveloped Takumi in a tight, friendly embrace. Takumi squeaked and let go, but Eito clung for close to a minute before he plopped Takumi back on the ground. “Did that lift your spirits?”
…
Takumi looked Eito over. Once, twice. Yet he showed no sign of anger, no agony, none of the disgust he showed time and time again.
His heart thudded. Takumi sucked a breath in. Maybe—just in case, he needed to ask—
“No…not yet,” Takumi mumbled. “Can you…kiss me? On the cheek?”
…
The roof, and subsequently the open air one entered when launching themself off of it, suddenly seemed to be an extremely appealing destination. Takumi buried his hands in his hair and grunted while Eito tilted his head.
“Is…something the matter?” he said, concern shimmering in his dew-lidded eyes. “You’re acting awfully strange. Maybe you need some water? Rest? Snacks? You’ve been drinking nothing but sodium, after all.”
“A bowl of ramen won’t kill me,” Takumi grumbled, “and I asked you to do it, okay? Don’t worry about the details. Just—kiss me and get it over with.”
Takumi’s blood ran cold. He made it clear enough he wanted the kiss on his cheek, right? Not on the lips? If Eito goes for the worse option, it might mean he really is still in there somewhere. But if he does as Takumi asked, with the same placid smile he always bore, then…
“All right, then, if you’re sure.” Eito laughed, light and playful, before he leaned forward and planted a small peck on Takumi’s cheek.
“There,” he said, “how’s that?”
The question came with no hostility. Merely a desire to please, as Eito had been since the moment Sirei brought him back. No flinching, no looks of disgust, mockings of ugly Takumi and his disgusting face.
Which made Takumi wonder, really.
“Wasn’t that disgusting to you?” Takumi said. Eito frowned, looking off to the side like a sheepish little kid.
“…I wouldn’t call any of my precious friends disgusting,” he said. “I care about you all too much to hurt your feelings with silly insults like that.”
“Oh.”
Takumi shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, kicking his legs back and forth. The way Eito described it, it sounded less like his vision changed with the conditioning, and more like—he found himself physically unable to criticize anyone. He spared this Eito because he hadn’t done anything wrong yet. And this new version, so incapable, had gone as far as to kiss him—
But.
Hm.
“Hey…” Takumi mumbled, staring at Eito and his wide, ignorant eyes. “Could you do that again?”
That night, Takumi scrubbed his cheek until it bled. He dreamt that night of an enraged, vengeful Eito, now back to his normal self and ready to shred Takumi apart for all he forced the other man to do.
Maybe if that happened. It wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
Again, and again, and again, and again—
How long had Takumi been caught in this dance?
The first time he decided to kill Eito, it ended with him surrounded by more Eitos than Takumi ever wanted to stomach as they all stabbed him, shredded his body into an undecipherable, mangled mess to be thrown away. Served him right, for not trusting this lunatic with his ‘truth’.
The second time Takumi decided to kill Eito, he decided he’d destroy the remnants of this dangerous man no matter what it took, no matter how many times he needed to die.
…It ended with him waking up on the morning of the battle against Zen’ta, lying there until someone came to drag him back out of bed and into reality. The third time—the third, he gave up. Chose the past of least resistance. Eito’s voice from Takumi’s choice, then, echoed in his ears even when Takumi went back again to give himself up to his rage, tearing anything and everything apart for the hope of relief for his pain.
Their pain.
From then on, Takumi wondered.
Wondered whether it was possible to trust Eito. Whether Eito told the truth, whether Takumi should’ve stopped killing the other man and went to look for another option. Another path, another decision to press onward with, to—
Trust, was that how it went? Trust for this monster?
No, Takumi couldn’t. This Takumi could never, not anymore.
Instead, if the pair were meant to be trapped in eternity, Takumi knew he had to make it hurt.
Eito laid out the challenge, as he always did, and Takumi refused to give him any response. In the end, Eito left him, annoyed at his lack of emotion. Takumi awoke as himself on the first day of their dance again.
Takumi already knew what he needed to do. Emptied of reason, emptied of everything other than hate, he went to the cafeteria, grabbed a knife, hurried back to his room, and got to work. When the knife failed to cut bone, he went to the metal shop to procure the last tool he needed.
He only cut up from the wrist. If it’d been two weeks ago (or something like that, pain stretching all out to eternity,) Takumi might’ve flinched away at the last second. He might’ve stopped before he pulled his hand off, stretched skin and bone fragments clinging on, but hearing Eito’s screams motivated him through every second of agony.
“Do you feel that?” Takumi said. “Do you? Do you understand my pain, now?”
It wasn’t about destroying Eito, anymore.
Takumi just had to make him suffer. Each and every loop, Takumi would torture himself, air out all the hate which accumulated loop after loop.
Whatever he’d become after that didn’t matter. They were bound by this hate, now, destined to tear each other apart regardless of what they desired at the beginning of this now. Whatever Takumi swore to protect, whatever truth Eito seared behind an offer never taken—
Takumi aimed the saw for his legs, next. A near-limbless, suffering body sealed away in his own bedroom—if only Eito remembered each loop, doing this so many times would reduce all his useless words to screams.
That’d suit this arrangement of theirs just fine.
This hate fueled so much—this hate dragged onward. His, his, theirs? Which his? Which—where?
When the wishes of two became one, it seemed impossible to untangle them from fate. So the story went, and so they stayed, forever marred by ugly streaks of red.
…
Consider it a cautionary tale, and nothing more.
Takumi did the right thing.
Even as he stared down at Eito’s pristine, pieced together face, his body once a dried up corpse drained and digested by Takumi’s hemoanima—cryptoglobin, whatever he had to call it, he knew he did the right thing, he should’ve gotten rid of Eito the first time around, too, but he didn’t know, so now he fixed his mistake by doing the right thing, now Eito’s hollowed corpse laid before him, now now now he’s finally made things right, now Nozomi will survive, now everyone will make it to the end and they’ll bring a stop to this war and nothing will drag them back, no one will scheme and hurt them no one will kill—
“Sumino?”
Takumi jolted, the chill of the mortuary crawling back to the forefront of his mind before he shivered. How long had he been standing here…?
Hiruko leaned against the doorway, before she sighed, crossed her arms and entered, shutting the door behind her with a loud thunk. “How long are you going to stand here and drown in self-pity?”
Eito hadn’t been the only corpse here. Not by a long shot. So many of them have died—too many. Takumi failed them all.
But the failures had to start somewhere. Through all his desperate wishes to end this war, he started this sorry attempt at a second chance by tearing Eito apart before he had a chance to do anything.
And what did it amount to?
Maybe by destroying one traitor, he managed to create another. Like he’d know. Takumi held a hand to Eito’s face, only to feel the looming presence of Hiruko behind him.
“Did you hear me? When are you going to stop that and be the leader we need you to be?”
…
“Sumino!”
She grabbed Takumi by the shoulders and turned him around, and once he fell in view, she delivered a strong slap to his face.
Takumi only turned around again.
Only brought his attention back to Eito’s corpse.
Hiruko grit her teeth. “Does nothing I say matter to you? If I died, would you have noticed?”
“What?” Takumi laid a hand on Eito’s chest. “Shizuhara—what’s wrong? Did someone else…?”
She breathed a sigh. Takumi stayed the way he was, fixated on the corpse and not the other living person there. “No,” she said. “Everything’s fine. Almost everything—you’re not doing well, and don’t try to say otherwise.”
“I know—”
“So,” Hiruko continued, sounding so unconcerned despite it all, “do you regret it?”
Was it the right thing?
Takumi’s hand traveled back to Eito’s face, fingers ran against his plump cheeks (or well, plump compared to the hollowed corpse he’d been before Sirei breathed life back into him—and before the robot itself ended up torn apart by some sharp blade, by another hidden assailant) nails dug into preserved flesh as though Takumi could solve all their woes by tearing him asunder again.
Maybe if he tried hard enough, tore Eito apart in just the right ways, he’d get up again. He’d raise his scythe, the one he talked endlessly about before, and tear a hole in Takumi’s throat. He’d take everything Takumi was, show for certain he made the wrong choice from the start.
Something like that.
“What the hell…?” Takumi breathed, stepping away as Eito loomed over him, weapon in hand like he never died.
He taps the end of his scythe against the floor. “Takumi,” he said, “is that all you have to say to me?”
“What—what the fuck else do you want me to say!?” Takumi threw a hand to the side.
“An apology would be nice, right? Don’t I deserve something small like that?”
“You destroyed humanity. You don’t deserve anything.”
“I?” Eito hit Takumi with an incredulous look. “I didn’t do anything. You know that, right? But you deny it. It’s inconvenient, it hurts, it goes against everything you want to be. You’d rather believe the words of the robot you—”
“Are you going to ignore me, too?” Eito scoffed, striding close to the frozen Takumi and brushing his wrinkled, dried fingers against Takumi’s face. “Even the ‘me’ left in you? You absorbed me—that essence had to go somewhere, right?
“Where did it go, Takumi?”
Another slap snapped Takumi back to reality.
He turned around, finally, to see Hiruko with the blood drained from her face. Not to the level of tears, but frightened enough to let her usual cool mask crack.
She looked down at her hand, before she let it fall to her side. She turned her attention to Eito’s corpse. “We can move him somewhere else. His body doesn’t have anything to do with any of this—if it’ll give you piece of mind, we can toss him wherever.”
“We can’t do that,” Takumi said.
“Why not?”
“Because—I mean, it might be important. Later. If this killer wants something with the bodies—”
“That haven’t been disturbed since the day they died,” Hiruko said, eyes narrowed into judgmental pinpricks which left Takumi frozen to the spot. “He’s distracting you—and I’ll be burying him tomorrow if you continue to linger here.”
“I…” Takumi tried to muster an argument, but his words failed him before they manifested into anything with meaning. Hiruko clicked her tongue, and leaving her ultimatum to hang over Takumi’s neck like a guillotine, she turned to leave.
Takumi, too, carved a resolution in his heart. When Hiruko returned the next morning to collect Eito’s body, she found it had vanished.
Since the murders started, the group’s focus stayed on their survival. Prioritizing that meant keeping training in the academy and avoiding going out more than needed, meaning no one used the extinguishers much nor did many want to risk an expedition if it made them a target for the killer or weakened defenses at home.
Meaning, it’d be easy to notice if someone did break this unsaid rule. On their own, at that.
Hiruko noticed—and set out as soon as possible. She let no one know she left, precisely because she had a feeling as to who went out.
She patrolled the immediate area outside the academy, and stumbled upon large, body-sized drag marks. She followed the path out into the forest, up a mountain, and to a small body of spring water, where a pile of dirt sat alongside a dirtied Takumi, who heaved a shovel over his head before he dug up another wad of dirt to toss aside.
A putrid smell drove Hiruko to pinch her nose—she knew from the moment she laid eyes on Eito’s decaying corpse that Takumi had been here a while, digging a pit of the right height to accommodate someone as large as him.
“You were right,” Takumi said. “I…need to take responsibility for this. I killed him—and I can’t let him distract me anymore.”
Hiruko stared at Takumi’s back. Even now, he refused to look at her. He only looked at Eito’s rotting face, his wide-eyed stare. “I absorbed his cryptoglobin—he’s…basically inside me now. Maybe that’s why all this is happening, I dunno. He’s some kind of cursed—entity, or whatever, stuck in my blood and bringing in all this misery.”
Takumi shook his head. “I wish it was that easy. I wish I could just spit him out and get rid of him for good, but I can’t. Even when I close my eyes, he’s still watching me. It’s—I did what I had to do to get rid of him, but it’s like he’s still here.”
Hiruko said nothing.
“He’s—this is all him,” Takumi muttered, throwing another wad of dirt to the side. Hiruko glanced at Eito’s corpse, and after a pause, knelt down at the rotting body’s side. “It’s been his fault from the start. So I’m getting rid of him for good.
“I’m ending this.”
Takumi’s shovel struck dirt.
“For good, Shizuhara. For all of us.”
Even now, he talked about Eito—Aotsuki, the source of all their woes. The opposition, the fixation, the never-ending foe.
He never once spared a glance for the person who did everything she could do to keep him ignorant. Takumi could only blame and focus on Eito because of her, and he never once realized that.
…
He never once saw—
“Ah, Shizuhara. This’ll be easy, then.”
—her.
A hit to the head sent Hiruko to the ground. As Takumi raised his shovel again, he managed to crack her leg with the force of the smack, leaving her immobile as red hot blood gushed from her head wound and blurred her vision.
“You’ve been there, all this time,” ‘Takumi’ said, hitting her all over as the world swirled, distorted, pulled away from Hiruko. “And he never noticed. What was the point? You thought you’d matter more than this body?”
Another hit. “Maybe I just don’t understand your sentimentality.”
Another.
Another.
“But, it makes things easier for me. No one will ever find out what happened to you out here.
“…And as for that other body, I’ll give it a proper burial with you. If it’ll keep him distracted, it’ll be a boon for me, too. I don’t know how you feel about this dead person, but I hope you’ll enjoy sharing the same resting grounds.”
Hiruko said nothing.
She couldn’t say anything, anymore. Takumi beat her body into a disfigured mess, throwing it into the pit alongside Eito before burying it all and leaving the bloody scene behind.
When the real Takumi returned the next day to check on his work, Eito’s phantom clung to his shoulder, watching—waiting, counting sins.
“Takumi—if this’ll make you happy, then go ahead.”
Eito faced Takumi with such a bright smile, it sickened him to his core to know that any version of Eito Aotsuki felt this way about him. It made things easier, yes—Hiruko’s compliant behavior meant Takumi struck this timeline version of her down with little effort, and from what he gathered of everyone’s blind worship the moment he passed them by, Takumi would have no problem dispatching of Eito and moving on from this bizarre reality.
What did this Takumi do to make them all act like this? Of course he felt curious, but staying here would mean—well, he just didn’t like to linger. It didn’t mean anything. He didn’t—
“Takumi…did I do something wrong?”
“Stop calling me that!”
Takumi pressed the tip of his blade against Eito’s throat. A dry, breathless laugh escaped Eito.
“Please—you can kill me. I’ll spill all the blood you desire if it’ll bring a lovely smile to your face.” Eito squeezed his eyes shut, before snapping to awareness again. “Ah, no, you want to see the panic and agony, right? I won’t deny you that. I could also take your sword and slice myself open, if that’ll be better for you.”
“You know,” Eito continued, and despite all of Takumi’s instincts screaming to gut this failure of a timeline apart so he could move on and gather what he needed before the end of this loop, he let Eito continue, paralyzed by second-hand embarrassment, “I don’t think I’ve ever understood what this thing called love is until I met you. This desire to protect something, to hold it close to your heart and never let it suffer or leave—this suffocating, controlling impulse, the way I feel I might die if I’m apart from you for too long...that’s all love, isn’t it?”
Eito leaned forward. Into the tip of Takumi’s sword, a small cut leaking droplets of blood. “Isn’t it? Other people—they’ve only stirred my disgust and hatred. No matter how hard they tried to act otherwise, their putrid appearances, smells, textures, they always gave away their true natures. I couldn’t love those horrible things. I couldn’t—be so close to those disgusting, disgusting—”
Hand to his mouth, Eito gagged. Takumi grit his teeth, thinking back to the Eito which killed Nozomi (or something like that, the tale as muddled and distorted in Takumi’s mind as Eito’s own eyes), thoughts and words moving before: “But you don’t deserve this.”
“…What?” Eito’s mouth fell open.
Takumi’s hand began to shake. “You’re…you keep talking about love, but you don’t love anything. She didn’t, I—there’s no way she did either.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who—”
“Shut up!”
Eito fell silent. Takumi lowered his sword.
“You’re not fooling me anymore. I know…you don’t love me. Or the ‘me’ here, wherever he is. You’re just—delusional, or sick, or something. Whatever you think you’re feeling is filtered through that, and now you’re acting weirdly compliant.”
“…”
Eito pursed his lips, and with the same blank subservience, said—
“You’re right. You’re completely right, Takumi. I’m just…this awful monster to you, right? If so, then killing me would make you the happiest in the world. You’d remember me as the stain you put down by killing me—even if that idea makes me feel disgusting inside, I’ll go along with it if it makes you happy.”
Takumi screamed.
He delivered a kick to Eito’s face, sending him to the ground before pressing a foot against his throat. As Eito gasped for breath, he lifted the heel, allowing only scant breaths in before Takumi cut him off once more.
Over, and over.
“Why the fuck do you keep doing that!? Stop pretending like you are! I know you don’t! You hear me? You—don’t, you didn’t back then, and you don’t now, so shut up! Shut up!”
“Ta…kumi….”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut—”
Eito grabbed onto Takumi’s ankle. A pleading, desperate look lingered in his eyes, strong enough to give even this vengeful Takumi pause. Eito squinted, taking in all Takumi was before he froze.
Another kick—this time, from Eito, sending Takumi to the floor as he scrambled away.
“What…how?” Eito breathed as Takumi scrambled for his sword, holding it in a defensive position as Eito’s desperation melted away for a quiet, indiscernible feeling. “How did you—when…no—no…”
“No?” Takumi repeated, flabbergasted, only for Eito to lunge, cupping Takumi’s face in his hands before he sneered and scrambled back (Takumi missing the chance to shove Eito away himself).
“You’re not—” Eito put a hand over his mouth, words coming out muffled, “You’re not well. No, you’re not yourself at all. How did I miss it before? I knew you seemed—so much less pristine, but the more I look at you, the more you seem so…
“Ugly.”
An ‘ugly’ which hung with the prominence of a spotlight, cast onto a clueless Takumi. Whatever he thought he knew about this Eito’s condition, he tossed out the window. What the hell was he on about now?
…It didn’t matter much in the end. Takumi came to this world to kill Eito and Hiruko, and he never planned on abandoning that goal even if this Eito acted as pathetic and needy as possible. But he couldn’t deny his curiosity about the circumstances, especially after seeing so many other versions of the SDU throughout his travels.
So, he’d find the root. Burn it to a crisp.
As he always did.
“And what do you want me to do about it?” Takumi scoffed, scratching his cheek as Eito continued to wrinkle his nose and bite back gags. "I never asked for you to slobber over me. I thought you caught some kind of weird invader disease until you started acting normal again. If you think I’m gonna fall for fake praise, then you’ve been stuck on your high horse for way too long.”
“No—no!” Eito put a hand out as if to block out Takumi, yet his eyes couldn’t quite stray away. “We need to fix you. You’re not supposed to look like one of them, you need to—”
“There’s something I can fix.”
Takumi raised his blade.
“Wait,” Eito breathed, backing away, hand to his neck. “Stay away, please, I can’t, I can’t—urgh…”
Aimed towards Eito’s neck,
“Please,” Eito said, begged, though not a word reached Takumi,
the blade etched a hole into Eito’s throat. He choked and gurgled as blood spurted and drowned out every word, corpse twitching and sputtering until the last. Until every bit of blood spilled out, and soon merged into the growing strength of this Takumi’s cryptoglobin.
That night, Takumi jumped to another timeline, taking a moment to rest in the lab when it seemed no one had been there for a while.
The cryptoglobin he absorbed never affected him. It never posed a threat nor did any shred of Eito and Hiruko manage to get to him. But, in the end, there must’ve been some terrible infection, some horrible sickness that managed to swim to the depths of Eito’s cryptoglobin.
Otherwise—how else could Takumi explain the odd dream he had?
In it, he saw something truly, deeply beautiful. Or someone, though if he dwelled too long on the nature of the obscure figure, his head soon throbbed, and his heart swelled with praise and adoration for this mysterious being, injected by a life not his own.
“Is something up?”
Takumi’s breath hitched. Despite the ethereal, but indiscernible beauty of the figure, the sound of a voice just like his own snapped him out of it.
A murky, shadowed figure entered his peripheral vision.
“No—it’s just…you’re still so beautiful, aren’t you?”
‘Takumi’ coughed. “Uh. I guess?…”
“Yes, everything about you is perfect. Oh, but I promise I won’t get too close. If I or anyone else were to ruin all that you were—if someone tore apart your beauty and rendered you on the same level as…everyone else.
“No. I couldn’t forgive that. I’d rather die than take this away from you. You were born to lead, crafted to shape this world however you pleased. You deserve the throne you’ve been given, your pristine figure, your—beautiful, attractive—”
“Aotsuki.”
“Hm?”
A bright light blinded Takumi. He covered his eyes as the beautiful entity took a step closer. “How…do you see me?”
The shadowy figure flickered under the radiant light which threatened to overpower it. “Beautiful.”
“No, I mean—you see everyone else as monsters still, right? So, how do you see me?”
“…Ah.” The figure shrunk, an air of hesitation consuming it. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s—odd. Impossible, even, how I manage to find you so appealing, but when I think about it this way; it makes too much sense. Of course someone beyond humanity, touching godhood would be able to alter the unchangeable. You discarded your disgusting nature and reached better heights. Isn’t that something worth applauding?”
“I’ve never—” the shadow darted forward as the dazzling light receded, “been able to stand anyone. You’re the first being I’ve enjoyed being around. Calling you a person would be doing a disservice to your true nature. You’ve achieved so much! You united the teams, you were the reason we stopped the commanders from destroying the peaceful world you’ve built here—who else could achieve that but an existence of perfection?”
“I—okay, Aotsuki, I get it.” The light dimmed to a shimmer, a faint gleam under the suffocation of the shadows. “I know how you feel, you’ve told me way too many times to count. But you’re not answering my question: how do you see me?
“…Be honest.”
An explosion of brightness blinded Takumi as the shadow shriveled into a tiny dot, curling in on itself as though it wished to become one with the light, to overwrite its existence into something it could never truly join. It reached, it shivered, and it pulled back. The shadows loved the untouchable light because something so opposite could never contaminate it. Even if its ugliness still brewed and spewed and sputtered, the light burned away what the shadow had, fried the undesirable edges and formed a painful, perfect illusion.
The bulging flesh—the rotten smell—for a moment an overpowering blast of disgust traveled through Takumi and sent him to the floor.
Then, it vanished. It burned under a new compulsion to accept this ugly thing, to love it and every part of it.
Just as disgusting as before—
But?
Eito—the shadow, it only said: “I see you as perfect, of course. As perfect as you’ve always been, but now, I finally get to rejoice in every part of you.”
Takumi’s eyes flew open, greeted by the lab’s darkness as the world snapped back in place. The mix of emotions filling him seeped through desperate gasps as Takumi sat up and turned his attention to the Parallel Leap Machine.
Why, of all timelines, did that Eito’s devotion linger? Takumi didn’t want to think about Eito’s love. If he dwelled on it too much, he’d have to acknowledge everything he’s torn down to get this far.
Nothing seemed scarier than that.
Takumi closed his eyes and brought his knees close, folded his head down as he squeezed his eyes shut as though to shut out the light.
He did the right thing—he had no regrets. This Eito lived a pitiable existence, clinging to something he couldn’t stand, pulled by unseen strings and left flailing. In that way, Takumi gave him mercy, letting him die by the hands of the person he loved so much.
…Where was that world’s Takumi, anyways? If this Takumi met him, what would happen?
Well.
He left it all behind, already. Takumi stared down the dried blood stained and rubbed into layers upon layers on his palms. No other path existed but the next.
And so—
“Hey, Aotsuki. You wanna go inside?”
Takumi pointed at the gaudy doorway, not that Eito gathered much from the gesture—something he remembered a moment too late to avoid Eito’s laughter. “I mean,” Takumi continued, biting back annoyance, “this house might be a trap, but it looks like it’ll have plenty of materials. And we need a lot of those. We gotta just risk it, or we’ll be running around for hours.”
Eito hummed, clasping his hands behind his back as the pair let silence lap over them. Though the visual deprivation helped Eito focus on his other senses with practiced ease, he maybe, possibly overstated how much his blindness enhanced them. Even with only the caw of the wind and the shy, quiet shuffle of the dying ecosystem to distract him, he failed to gather much more than Takumi had about the strange house they ended up at.
Takumi crossed his arms and sized up the house for the millionth time. He opened the doorway, the shadowy interior and pervasive smell of rot and decay giving away the long established absence of the inhabitant(s?), though the splattering of bright neon colors and disco balls outside made him wonder whether it was for the better to let this place go. He could only imagine the decorative nightmare waiting for them inside, spotting a few tables and a hallway full of decorations from only a glance at the entrance. With the coming end to the war, Takumi rationalized the theft away with the (not so comforting) thought that there’d be no one to come back to this place, anyways.
But…still.
Something felt off.
And that thought kept Takumi glued to the doorstep. “I think I’ll follow the judgment of our team leader.”
“C’mon—” Takumi said, yelping and cutting off his words when Eito somehow managed to sneak behind him and shove him inside.
“And his example!” Eito yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth before following Takumi inside. Luckily, blind stumbling brought Takumi to a switch—it activated the hallway lights and gave the pair a clear view of the narrow space. As they gathered up anything useful-looking, they squirmed through the haunting pathways, ignoring the purple-pink eyes staring them down and the sharp triangular patterning on everything as they entered the shared family room.
…Or something like it. More eye lights hung around a large spotlight, pinkish light brimming onto a stage. Patterns of triangles and lines all in the same pink, purple and blue hues made Takumi wince and look around for a way to turn it off, though he failed to spot anything of use. It fit someone with a showy personality, or just someone into show business—unless the previous occupant had some small secret sleeping chamber somewhere, or they missed a room, Takumi couldn’t imagine anyone actually living here.
It might’ve made him feel a teeny bit less guilty, but given the circumstances, the universe wouldn’t let him escape so easily.
“Everything seems all right,” Eito said, adjusting his hold on the sack thrown over his shoulder before he stepped forward. “Shall we? If I’m about to run into something dangerous, please let me know—since I can’t see, I’m quite helpless for the odd trap here and there, and would appreciate some personal guidance from—”
Eito stepped on a triangle pattered which jutted out the tiniest fraction of an inch. As it sank, holes opened in the wall, and Takumi had seconds to tackle Eito to the ground before dozens of arrows shot and pierced the wall behind where he once stood.
Disgust be damned, Takumi grabbed Eito and pushed him to his feet before another trap opened up, a spike pit where the pair rolled over to. He dragged Eito to the wall, and luckily, they avoided setting off any more traps. Takumi heaved a few breaths before he glanced over to Eito.
“We gotta stay still! This place’s completely booby trapped.” Takumi winced, mentally smacking himself for running around like it was Christmas before this point. “Whoever this place belongs to seriously didn’t want anyone stealing.”
“Or maybe this house is a trap designed to kill off wayward explorers from Last Defense Academy?” Eito said and tilted his head. “Much like ourselves.”
“Shut up, man,” Takumi grumbled, throwing his head in his hands. “…Y’hear anything?”
Eito frowned. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be of much help. Did you happen to see anything unusual before the trap activated? Any signs of a trigger? Or any security cameras? Movement trackers?”
“I dunno,” Takumi said, shaking his head as if that’d bring him the answer. “I think—I saw the ground sink, or something?”
“Ah.”
Eito clicked his tongue. “Take my hand.”
“What?”
Eito reached out—in the wrong direction, but Takumi didn’t correct him. “You’re going to be our trap seeker, right? You’ll need to guide me. If we only have visual cues, I’m sure I’ll end up skewered on my own. That’d be terrible for your reputation to bring me back on a stick, wouldn’t it, Takumi?”
Takumi groaned, but rather than argue, he silently accepted Eito’s words and grabbed his hand. “Do we wanna get out of here?”
“I don’t know. Surely all this traps were designed to protect something important, right? If it’s something that might pose a threat to our mission, it’s our responsibility to take care of that.”
“…You really think some random house might cause problems?”
“Do you want to take a risk and ignore this?”
Takumi chewed on his lip. With a heavy heart: “...Okay, fine. Sure. Let’s look things over and get out of here before either of us get stabbed.”
“Thank you,” Eito said, smiling. “I’d hate for everything to be ruined right before the end. You’ve all worked so hard—you deserve nothing less than an easy, comfortable victory.”
“…”
“But,” Eito said, “that—might not be possible, right?”
“You don’t need to remind me,” Takumi said. Eito didn’t reply, and as silence ruled once more, Takumi took that as a cue to start moving.
They set off a couple more traps before they figured out something vital: a half press of a switch kept the trap from going off, giving them some room to predict what was coming. More pits, more arrows, an anvil dropped, a glitter bomb on top of that. If it didn’t blow up in their faces and almost blind them, Takumi might’ve thought it harmless.
“Pbbbbbft,” Takumi spat, coughing out another wad of glitter. Eito laughed, but he too busied himself cleaning the glitter off his shades as they sat on the stage, the only ‘safe’ part of the room. “I—pbft—Are you finding anything, Aotsuki?”
“Unfortunately, no. I’m beginning to wonder myself whether we might be wasting our time in a useless death trap.”
“You’re only thinking that now?”
“Haha…I guess I’ve been having so much fun, I haven’t wanted to. What are those called again—escape rooms? The puzzle games people like to play? This house is almost like those, right? I’ve never done one with a friend before.”
Eito leaned back, bobbing his head. “Someone invited me, once, but the idea of being locked in a room with a disgusting monster for so long made me pass out on the spot.”
“Sounds like you,” Takumi said, following Eito’s line of sight before remembering it didn’t matter where it seemed he was looking. Despite it, Takumi kept looking, and in the pupil of one of the spotlights, he saw it.
He narrowed his eyes. Stood up, desperate for a better glimpse as Eito made a noise of astonishment.
Something rectangular, brick shaped—a red bottom, a black top with a string tied around it and moons on it. Takumi grit his teeth, and elbowed Eito’s side. “If I point you towards where to throw, can you knock something down with your scythe?”
“Huh?” Eito brought his weapon out, twirling the massive blade until he plunked it against the floor, spikes digging into his grip. “I suppose it might work, as long as you know where you’re aiming me. But here’s a better idea: give me an audio cue, and I can handle the rest on my own.”
“Oh—right.” Duh. Better than grabbing and finagling Eito in the right way while he complained about Takumi’s scent, at least. Takumi grabbed a piece of rubble and tossed it towards the eye. Though the plink of rock against metal offered a quiet chime, it seemed to be enough—Eito grit his teeth, readied his posture and tossed his weapon. It spun, the blade sliced through the eye and the box fell into Takumi’s hands as the gentle whir of the room came to a gradual halt.
Did that make this the treasure the mystery owner designed this room to guard?
Takumi weighed the box in his hands. He brought a hand to the string, but it hung there, clueless as to whether it desired the treasures inside or not. For all he knew, something terrible laid inside—a weapon, a power which sought to unravel them.
Eito went to retrieve his scythe and hurried back. He reached over, running his hands over the surface of the box before his mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape.
“Oh, it must be a Box of Blessings. Or…was it of Calamity?”
“A what?” Takumi dropped it, taking several steps away from the box. Eito bent down and picked it up—Takumi took a couple steps forward, just in case. “Calamity? Are you sure you should be holding that!?”
“I don’t know,” Eito said, feeling every inch of the box’s surface, “but I think I recall hearing its impotent as long as you don’t open it. We’ll be just fine as long as we’re careful, so don’t worry.”
“The fact you’re holding onto it gives me plenty to freak out about,” Takumi grumbled, walking back over and snatching the box back from a pouting Eito. “You know about this thing? Is it related to…this planet’s people?”
Eito nodded.
“When I worked with the Futurans,” he began, “most of them treated me like a servant, or a prisoner. But one of them—an older one, I believe—told me some stories about the planet. One of them was about a series of boxes, some being the Boxes of Blessings, while others earned the title of the Boxes of Calamity. According to him, unless you had all of them, both boxes seemed indistinguishable from the other. That way they needed to be opened together as intended. When all Boxes of Blessings were unleashed, their powers united and released an energy strong enough to make any wish come true.”
Eito stuck a finger in the air. “But open even one Box of Calamity in the place of a blessing, and it leads to untold misfortune.”
“It sounds like some fairy tale, but we have one right here,” Takumi said. “What’s up with that?”
“Oh.” Eito put a hand in his pocket. “Though some were found, most of them remain lost to time. Unofficially, they’re all under the guardianship of the Supreme Commander, but it would be impossible to find all the boxes before the launch of the Undying Flames missiles, so I wouldn’t worry.”
“Yeah, thanks for reminding me.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “…I’ve always wondered about these boxes, myself. I knew they were real, but the wish component intrigued me. I spent several nights thinking about it and what it might mean about us.”
Takumi met eyes with the moons on the box, weathered, faded, yet clinging on—Eito’s last words snapped him back to reality. “Wait—what’s this got to do with us?”
“It’s only a pet theory of mine, but the boxes are tightly entwined with the commanders. The heroes of this planet, the sole wielders of cryptoglobin, blessed by the powers that be. Whatever cryptoglobin is, I believe it’s the fuel for these wishes. Cryptoglobin can achieve the impossible as is—who’s to say some illusions and perception warping lie outside its purview?”
“So…the wishes are fake?”
Eito sputtered, holding his laughter back with a hand and failing—utterly. “No, they’re as real as all the bed time stories your parents tell you to get you to behave.”
“Hey!” Takumi hit Eito’s side, which only prompted more snickering, and more hitting. Fueled by resentment, Takumi tossed the box out the window and stormed towards the door…
Only to slip and almost fall into the spike pit on the way out. Needless to say, it took the pair a while to navigate around the remnants of traps, back through the maze of hallways and into the outside world once more.
Takumi gave the box another kick for its troubles.
“I’d be careful with the local relics,” Eito said. “Even if we do plan to annihilate them for the sake of ‘humanity’s second chance’, the least we could do is show respect for what we’re destroying.”
Takumi sighed. He buried his hands in his pockets. “…Yeah, you’re right. So…should we keep it then?”
“Put it in a museum?” Eito scoffed. “I’d rather we bury it so no one finds it.”
“But that’d just be erasing them,” Takumi said. Eito fell silent, and after a moment, tapped Takumi’s shoulder.
“Maybe we can write a book together,” he said. “Co-authors, protecting these important artifacts from filthy human hands while keeping each story alive. If only there were any left who weren’t afraid of us or hated us—it’d be nice to learn more about the planet we’re connected to. Even if it’s a superficial connection molded by hatred, war, and lies, it’s the most real one we have.”
The planet, huh?
Takumi gazed at the sky. How did the planet feel about what they did? The Futurans believed the power of cryptoglobin came from their god. If that god existed, would it curse them for everything they’ve done? Doom them? Use them, just as they’ve been used all their lives?
Their hundred day lives. Some of their group never even got that much time.
If God existed…
Would it be so kind as to grant them a second chance?
“I’m not much of a writer,” Takumi said, “but sure. I’ll give it a shot.”
“Of course, that’s all I ask of you.”
Eito put a hand on his shoulder—snaked it behind Takumi’s neck. He couldn’t say he hated the comfort. A chill traveled down his spine and latched onto his soul, nestled in with all the suppressed doubts.
Being forgotten…
Seemed so scary.
But in the moment, Eito resolved to remember, and Takumi joined him, for however long he could.
“Thank you, Takumi,” Eito said. Takumi rested his head against Eito’s side, and closed his eyes.
Grading papers became the best part of Eito’s day. The academy’s halls stayed crowded day after day, but only when talking a bevy of assignments did he manage to achieve some peace. Of course, it came with sharing his space with Nozomi and Takumi, but he only asked for so much.
He started to hate being left alone.
When not managing the kids (when none of the others could) or tending to the archives in the basement, Eito worked as an assistant to several teachers while Takumi stationed himself outside as a guard against the various factions who sought to raze the school down—and the Special Defense Unit, with it.
Many of the others focused on guard duty. It helped avoid the judgmental, accusing stares of some resentful teachers. Not that Eito blamed them. In the end, only Eito and Nozomi worked inside the school primarily, with Takumi’s assistance being occasional.
Today turned out to be one of those ‘occasionals’. Nozomi focused on the essays while Eito tackled the paragraph responses, the two crowded on the same desk and leaned so tight and focused over the papers their heads nearly touched. Eito had a clip on his nose to help him focus, while Takumi dragged his pen over piles of ungraded homework off to the side.
“Aotsuki,” Nozomi said, breaking Eito’s focus. “Could you…go a little easier on them?”
Eito put a hand over the most recent grade. “I’m giving them as fair a judgment I can, given their current skills and latent capabilities.”
“I trust your judgment. But…” She pushed his hand out of the way, revealing several scathing comments and a failing grade. “She’s trying her best to improve in her rhetoric. Some encouragement would go a long way, and it’d be nice to see her smile again.”
“I’m not going to lie about her capabilities to spare her feelings.”
Nozomi smiled, lopsided and nervous. “I just thought it’d be kinder—”
“Well,” Eito clicked his pen, getting back to work, “Good luck with that. I won’t stop you from doing whatever you want, but don’t overstep on my work.”
“Aotsuki—” Takumi snapped, getting out of his seat before Nozomi put a hand up.
“…It’s fine,” she said, sliding back into her seat, eyes fixed on the table. “I’ll just—I’m almost done with the exam essays. Hopefully—hopefully, we can catch up before dinner.”
Dinner, when Nozomi took a break from throwing herself on the pointed sword of assignment grading and instead burned herself on the cross of feeding hoards of smelly, germy creatures, all shoveling food into their mouths as remnants of their nutrition slop flung about. Human, Futuran, Eito came to realize little difference existed between the species.
They both disgusted him. And so he stayed away.
Not that he hated the children, or even resented their existence. He’d learned to move beyond the childish hatred which once defined him—to an extent. A world of difference laid between recognizing a flaw, striving to fix it and truly, deeply carving the bloody tumor of hatred out, nestled between guts and next to one’s heart, keeping it warm with a steady pulse of promises.
The ones living here were orphans. Their families slaughtered in the endless wars for power—in the honor of Kamyuhn, the former SDU created a singular safe haven in the chaos, where refugees gathered and tried to live a semblance of a normal life.
A school like this had to have come from Nozomi. Who else would so self-righteously devote herself to the nearest just cause, scraping off her sins bestowed upon her by her dear friend Takumi?
Not that Eito felt much better. He let it happen.
“I should go help,” Takumi said, rising from his seat. “See you guys later, right?”
He eyed the pair with accusation. Eito gave Takumi a noncommittal wave, which only served to leave Takumi lingering. “Or…maybe I’ll—”
“No, it’s all right,” Nozomi said, smiling, a smile which dripped out her eyes through quiet calls and long side glances away from everything, away from herself. “We can handle the rest. And—we’ll join you, too. As soon as we can. Please, I think the kids would be happy to see you again.”
Against Nozomi’s warmth, Takumi melted, and gave her a firm nod, a gentle smile which ran opposite against the mismatched image of his scars and calloused hands.
He left, finally.
Nozomi breathed. No—she sighed, and Eito sneered.
“You’re finally reaching a limit with his stupidity?”
She gasped, returning to herself before she shook her head and buried her head in her assignments again. Another excuse not to look at anyone. “No! No, that’s not it. I’m just tired. But it’s nothing I’m not used to—I’m sure you’re tired too, everyone is. But we need to keep moving forward,” she brought her hands close, held them like a prayer, “for the sake of everyone relying on us. They’ve given us a place to stay, too.”
“Graciously allowing the people who killed their only hope for peace to stay is a heavy gift,” Eito said, tapping his pen against the desk.
…
“You know,” he said, “now that I think of it, I’ve never asked you.”
Nozomi pursed her lips. Head down, compliant. “Asked me what?”
“Kamyuhn died to save you. You treat it like a punishment of your own design, but Takumi was the one who made the choice. He looked you in the eye. He knew what was at stake. But he still couldn’t put aside his ugly, selfish personal bias, so focused on your life he threw away countless others.”
Eito leaned back in his seat, looking at the ceiling. “But isn’t that just how humanity is? We may not be human, but they made us—we all carry that taint.”
He deserves this moment of childish hatred, after everything he’s done.
“Why don’t you hate Takumi? He destroyed the lives of these families, of these children you care so much about. But you still cling to him and his help, you still have him around as though he should be allowed to exist in your presence without apologizing, forever.”
Selfish, ugly Takumi. Always so fixated on the easy and familiar. “I just wanted to ask, you know. Simple curiosity.”
Nozomi said nothing. When you had nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all, right? Finally, she sighed, and did not deny it was a sigh.
“Aotsuki…your hair.”
Eito snapped back to her. “What?”
She smiled and reached forward, ignoring all his oft stated personal boundaries to run a hand against his hair. He pushed her away, but she only stood there, watching over Eito with a sad smile.
He’d grown his hair out over the years. As of now, he hadn’t cut it in months, and preferred to keep it long—as long as reasonably possible, considering the dangers of enemy ambushes. He’d come into the habit of braiding it, keeping it out of his face, and as of now, wore his hair in the side braid Nozomi once donned ages ago.
She moved back to her seat. With a weary smile, she pushed away the assignments, before her resignation faded into pinpricks of tears as she shoved her hands in her lap.
“…We always looked similar, right? I…I know how you feel.” Tight, hurried breaths punctuated her words, she had to finish what she had to say before a ghost grabbed her ankles, dragged her will and her ugliness back into the deepest recesses of her mind, never to be seen or said, “You’re competing with someone who doesn’t exist anymore. I can’t be Karua as much as you can’t be me.”
Eito sputtered. “I don’t want to be anything like you.”
“And you shouldn’t.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Ever since that day, Sumino’s never seen me the same. I want to fight alongside him with Moko, but he won’t let me. He says I need to be protected, in here. I need to watch the children—our children.”
“Sometimes, at night, I see her.” Nozomi grabbed her arm, rubbed it, pulled back the sleeve and picked at skin. Eito saw many more scabs and now knew the source. “Kamyuhn lives in these halls too. She never had a chance to grow up, she’s still so small, and she wanted to do so much, Aotsuki. She wanted to make this world a safe place for little girls like her, and now everything’s—
—it’s terrible. It’s so terrible, the things these children have seen. Broken bodies and massacres, some crawled their ways out of piles and piles of blood and viscera, all before they reached their tenth birthday. And I—and I lived for this! Takumi let Kamyuhn died to save me and I…I never asked him for this! I never—” she covered her hand with her mouth, tears running free, grabbing the desk for salvation it couldn’t give, “—I would’ve died a million times if it meant bringing peace to this planet. Nothing I can do will ever, ever make up for it. She should’ve lived and saved this planet, but I’m here!”
She reached for her shirt and pulled it up. One diagonal scar etched across her skin, but overlaid was a newer scar, straight and prim and perfect on her torso.
“This is my second chance,” Nozomi said, teeth gritted before she pulled her shirt down and laid her head on the desk, “and I can’t hate Takumi for giving it to me. I can’t…”
But you want to?
Eito can’t verbalize his thoughts. He sits stiff, frozen over Nozomi’s body, weeping with the wind as it stole her sorrows.
“…I hope you won’t have to compete with me,” she says. “I don’t want you to…end up like me. You’re my friend—I want you to be happy too.”
Friend.
The word sticks in Eito’s throat. He looks down, speaking without thinking for once, “I doubt he’ll be seeing me as his princess in a castle anytime in the near future. But I can be his scheming advisory, keeping him in his place.”
Nozomi heaved in a breath. She poked her head up, red with dried tears as she put on a smile. “Please, don’t treat him differently—I didn’t mean to get upset. I think I might’ve exaggerated.
“I’m happy to be here, taking care of these kids in need in this school we built together. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
But maybe for Kamyuhn.
Eito smiled too, his best practiced one. It matched Nozomi’s with ease. “I promise, I’ll treat him like I always have.”
Friend?
Did Eito plan this out of obligation to Nozomi’s despair? To ‘put Takumi in his place’? To earn his attention and affection, to steal him away from his princess?
Maybe. Or maybe he missed the look of utter despair on Takumi’s face as everything collapsed around him. Who could say what compelled Eito to bring a large hunting knife with him on a surprise visit to Takumi’s cabin, sharpened, capturing the light of the pale moon overhead.
To better watch the border of their sanctuary, Takumi erected a shelter for himself at the very edge. He’d hear enemies the moment they approached. From there, he sounded the alarm, assembled most of the group to fight, something to that effect.
It meant the former team leader rarely slept at night. It afforded Eito a golden opportunity to do what needed to be done.
Eito knocked on the shabby door, took in the lopsided wall of the front and the way it all tilted inward—Takumi opened it a few seconds later, pronounced backs and a faint look of panic. “Did something happen?”
Predictable. Eito pushed his way inside as Takumi grunted, annoyed. He kept the knife hidden in his coat for now.
“Nothing. I’m just paying a visit. There isn’t anything wrong with that, is there?”
Takumi ran a hand through his messy hair. “…I guess not, but I don’t have much here. Dunno why you’d wanna visit.”
‘Don’t have much’ was the understatement of the century. Other than a table littered with maps and notes, some weapons and a futon, gathering dust, Takumi had nothing else. Even his room back at Last Defense Academy had more decor—hell, even Hiruko’s room back at the academy had more going on. The shoddy building and leaned walls limiting the space did no favors either.
So, Eito looked about, grinned, and made his way to the futon, sitting on it as though Takumi laid it out just for him. He patted the space next to him, and with a dramatic eye roll, Takumi made his way over and sat down.
“I’m guessing you’re not gonna leave just ‘cause I tell you to,” Takumi grumbled, scratching his cheek while side-eyeing Eito.
He smiled back, innocent as they came. “I don’t see why I should. I’m only showing concern to a good friend of mine and his sleep schedule.”
“I’m getting enough sleep, thanks.”
“I can imagine—compared to this, those chairs in the school library must feel like heaven to nap in.”
"Yeah, actually, they do. Don’t ask me how, but I find new pebbles under the futon no matter how hard I try to get the place clean before I sleep.”
“It sounds to me like you’re not trying hard enough.”
“Can you shut up?” Takumi curled up, bringing his legs close and burying his hands in his hair. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping Nozomi with putting the kids to bed?”
Eito clicked his tongue. “Finding every reason to throw me out—you’re still the worst, Takumi. For your information, the little creatures went to sleep with little issue. We wrapped up early, and I came here to talk with you. Is there anything wrong with that? If I’m somehow disrespecting you, please let me know, and I’ll be sure to file away your complaints to the proper place so they can be addressed within several business days.”
Takumi stared at Eito.
He stared back.
“…I did want to ask something,” Eito said, Takumi resting his head on his crossed arms. “About Nozomi.”
“Is something wrong with her?”
“Why won’t you let her fight?”
Takumi jolted up. “Why—because she’s human.”
“She kept up just fine. She still trains with Moko every morning, Tsubasa’s upgraded her artificial class armor…”
“Only for emergencies! It’s not safe. The other factions, they want her dead. You know that, Aotsuki.”
“And—” Eito stole his chance. With Takumi’s anger rising, he lunged, pushing the other man into the futon. Takumi’s eyes widened, he struggled, but Eito had only grown stronger over the years, managing to keep Takumi pinned. “—who’s fault is that?”
“…I did what I had to do,” Takumi muttered. He looked away, closed his eyes—everything he could do to ignore Eito. Ignore the truth which haunted him, watched from underneath the futon and refused to let him sleep, left him a mess no one could clean up no matter how many years they spent fighting against humans, futurans, everyone and everything who wanted them dead in the ground for stealing their hopes and futures.
All for one woman.
No, not a woman.
A girl. A very good girl who did as asked. She’d never consider doing this. Eito saw it though, a burning desire, the first shred of anger she’s betrayed in years.
She wouldn’t do this. But, as loathe as he was to admit it, Eito held his fair share of fondness for the cowardly monster.
And so—if she had nothing to say, he’d do this. Not for her sake. Not to take her anger, her scrap of agency away and make it his own. No—he did this—
Because…even now, he still braided his hair the same way Nozomi used to, every morning, waiting.
Waiting for—
“Look at me!”
Eito grabbed the edge of Takumi’s shirt and pulled it up. His scarred belly exposed, gathered from countless assassination attempts. Takumi squeaked (squeaked!) and thrashed, but a punch to the right place winded him long enough for Eito to grab the knife and bring it to bare flesh.
He plunged it in. Drew a long, deep line in the same shape as Nozomi’s scar, all while Takumi grit his teeth and whispered—breathed: “Why…what the hell!? Let me go—Aotsuki, what the fuck—”
Eito didn’t want to hear it. He leaned over Takumi, and once he finished his handiwork, he dropped the knife and threw himself over the other man, pressing his lips to Takumi’s, silencing his disgusting words, feeling his warm blood against his own stomach.
He pulled away, only to speak. “You’re always thinking of her—thinking of what you want to make her. Snap out of it, you horrendous, idiotic, frustrating creature. Karua’s gone, and Nozomi’s sick of you. Isn’t there something far more important to be focusing on? If I can get so close to you and hurt you this much, then you’ve really lost your touch…”
“Team Leader.”
“You don’t—you don’t understand…I’ve already—” Takumi wheezed, only to have his breath stolen once more by a kiss. Eito slid a hand under Takumi’s shirt, and stole the rest of his night for his own. Hatred morphed into passion, into instinct and affection, and Takumi, despite it all, played his part.
Not saying a word. Acting. Drawing upon the stage and flashing Eito a single smile.
Eito only realized after Takumi bandaged his Eito-inflicted wound, crouched in the opposite corner of the cabin some hours later, that his braid came undone at one point. The tie keeping it together stayed laced around one of Takumi’s fingers, though it seemed like he hadn’t noticed at all.