Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His sister was dead.

Asahi had been unable to pursue her as she and her kidnapper fled to the top of the burning building. Despite every fiber of his being telling him to go, save her! He knew that Shio's life was no longer in his hands.

So he had left managing to escape the raging inferno before it reached its crescendo. As he passed by her door, he paused, the scent of burning flesh causing a new wave of tears to flow. His only friend was burning, and there was absolutely nothing he could do, save close her eyes and move on. He continued his escape, but not before muttering a prayer for her soul. He owed her that much, at least.

It was only five minutes after he reached the bottom of the apartment complex did he see them fall. He had screamed then, incoherently, and rushed towards where they would land in a futile attempt to mitigate Shio's fall.

He didn't make it.

He fell to his knees and moved no more.

It was only when a firefighter roused him from his stupor to pull him away from the fire that he saw the paramedics shouting frantically and realized that someone had survived the fall. Hope blossomed in his chest once more as he made his way to the ambulance. To his unimaginable relief, he saw Shio, breathing, albeit injured, being loaded into a ambulance. After informing the paramedics of his identity as her older sibling, he was allowed to accompany them to the hospital.

Shio was unconscious for an entire week.

In his waking hours, all Asahi could think of was making sure he was by her side when Shio finally woke up from her slumber. When not worrying about his sister's condition, he was working with his mother and local child-services to prepare for life without her. She had no intention of letting her crime go unpunished, and planned to turn herself in. "It's for the best, Asahi. I'm not fit to be a parent of any kind.

Watch your sister better than I have."

Asahi would do it, he had promised-- for his sister, his mother, and himself.

Oh, what a lie that had been.

The hour the hospital phoned home to tell him Shio had woken up for the first time in seven long days was, Asahi thought, the best moment of his life. He had rushed to phone his mother, then had rushed himself down to the hospital. On his way, he stopped by the florist and used what little money he had to buy a bouquet in celebration. With a smile on his face for the first time since his father died, Asahi went to go see his sister.

Only to find out she was dead as the flowers he held in his hands.

The Shio he knew, his sister Shio, was gone. Instead, she was replaced by whatever that pink-haired girl had been, wiping away all traces of the sister he had suffered so much for.

Her eyes were cold.

He left the hospital, passing his mother without a word, and went home. He went about his day, cleaning up around the house and doing the odd jobs his mother and supplied him with. And when nightfall came, he went and checked the main bedroom for his mother, and found she wasn't there.

A long time ago, Asahi had vowed to stay strong for his mother, then for Shio. He would not scream, he would not cry. He would be a pillar of support for his family.

But his family was broken, or dead, he reasoned. Therefore, his vow was null. And so, he let his barriers drop, and finally, after years of abuse, neglect, and cruelty, he broke.

That night, Asahi cried himself to sleep.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

"Wake up, Kōbe Asahi."

Asahi groaned in annoyance as he sat up, slowly blinking away the sleep from his eyes. A decent night's sleep was rare for him, and he despised being woken up before he could actually rest, but sadly he had grown used to it.

He gave his room a glance, nearly falling back into bed before realizing that he was no longer in his room. Startling himself out of bed, he craned his neck in every direction instinctively looking for a exit. He found none, and his panic began to mount. The darkness stretched as far as the eye could see. He a calm thought breached his panicking mind.

Am I dead?

On a subconscious level, it frightened him that if the answer was yes, he would fell relieved. But, on the other hand, what was there to live for, anymore? His sister was indoctrinated with something that Asahi did not want to face nor had any counter against. His mother was most likely going to be incarcerated by the end of next week, and as far as he knows, he had no extended family in the country, if anywhere at all. He hadn't been to school in months, and he no money to reply, killing his future in its infancy.

He realized, with a start, that the only thing worth living for had been his family, and now that was no more.

Why not embrace death?

He turned, facing away from his bed, ready to march into the yawning void.

He was dully surprised by the dark figure looming over him.

Asahi held back his tears. Yet another had come to revel in his pain. "Have you come to torment me too? Can't I just... die?  Or am I not even allowed that?"

The (angel? spirit? deity? reaper?) Kami reared in surprise at his apathetic greeting. It seemed to shrink before Asahi's eyes, eventually stopping at a height that put it's eyes just above his.

Then, it spoke.

"...You have been punished enough in life for events out of your control. I will inflict upon you no further harm." The figure seemed to conjure two chairs and a table from thin-air, and sat down in one. To Asahi's surprise, the entity invited him to do the same. "It would be against common courtesy to not offer you a seat.

Asahi narrowed his eyes and the entity, but sat gingerly on the chair nonetheless. "...Thanks." A few moments of silence passed before the dark-haired boy spoke again. "Why am I here? Am I… aren't I dead?" He should be dead, Asahi knew that much.

He had known that much when he had emptied his father's sleeping pills into his hand and swallowed them in one go.

The Kami shook its head. "No, you are not dead-- though you should be. Were it not for your musubi, I would not have been able to save you."

Asahi blinked. Musubi? My string? What is he--

"I have brought you to a place beyond Time," the Kami continued on. "Your body may be dead, but your soul persists." The explanation did nothing to ease Asahi's suspicion or confusion. "But… why me? Why this place? What's so special about me that you decided you wanted to speak with me?"

"Nothing."

The boy's confusion only seemed to mount, so the Kami explained.

"I have been watching you for some time, Kōbe Asahi. You have gone through many hardships for your family, something which I greatly admire. You took beatings, endured the outer elements, braved a fire to keep you family together-"

"And it was all for nothing," Asahi cut in, bitterly. "It all fell to pieces and I-" The hopelessness of his situation once more came crashing down on him, and it took all his willpower to keep his composure from breaking. "I can't do anything. I'm useless. You chose the wrong person."

The entity was silent, seemingly content with allowing Asahi to ramble, which he did. He had no idea who this stranger was, but he desperately needed someone to listen to him, to understand him.

Only one person had done that before, and he had never gotten the chance to truly thank her before she had met her undeserved end.

He still felt her lips on his, sometimes.

The Kami watched him with immeasurable eyes, with what looked like…

Pity?

No... something else. Understanding?

Asahi decided not to dwell on it.

The two did not speak for a few moments, before the Kami spoke again.

"What if I told you I could send you back?"

...Huh?

"Wh-what do you mean by that?" Asahi stammered slightly, caught off-guard. What kind of question is that, anyways?"

"I can send you back through the canals of time. I can give you a chance to redo everything, to save those you matter to you most.

You can save your family, Asahi."

The teen's mind spun. A chance to make things better? To save his sister?

...Shōko?

"You… you aren't kidding, are you? This isn't some cruel joke? I can really go back?" This- I can change everything!

The entity nodded. "Indeed. I will also grant you one boon. It is impossible for you to save your family when it is broken. It is like a porcelain bowl, your family, with the potential to be well made, but shattered into ugly fragments. This boon I will grant shall be the gold to your broken bowl, your kintsugi, if you will."

The Kami fell silent, once more seemingly content in watching Asahi wrestle with the thoughts inside his head. When the teen finally turned to him again, there was a fire in his eyes that had not been there before.

The Divine Wind smiled. "Do you accept?" He held out a hand, and it lingered just in reach of Asahi.

The boy, slowly, but with no hesitation, reached out and reciprocated the Kami's gesture, and they shook.

"Let me save them."

The entity nodded, pleased. "Best of luck to you. May your life be healthy and good. May your musubi guide your rigthoues path. Sayōnara, Kōbe Asahi."

And, before Asahi could ask what the entity meant about his string, the Kami suddenly flashed gold, emitting a heavenly light, and Asahi saw no more.

Then he woke up in his father's home, a day before his death.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

Kintsugi: Kintsugi, also known as Kintsukuroi, is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum

Chapter Text

He screamed.

Later, he would thank whatever deities above there were that his bastard of a father had already left the house so his scream went unheard, but Asahi thought he was allowed to have such a scream because he was back, he was back, oh gods, please, not again--

Then he remembered. This… had already happened, hadn’t it? Yes, it was coming back to him now. He remembered that this was the day his father died at his mother’s hands. This was the day he learned that Shio had been abducted and alone for nearly two months, being held hostage by both some sort of Stockholm Syndrome and her.

This was the last day he could actually recall feeling some modicum of happiness, not counting a memory of a black-haired girl's lips on his.

Gods, Shouko.

He would save her this time, he swore as he rose from his futon. He would bring his fractured family together and heal them, piece by piece, day be day, if need be. He would see to it that Satou was put behind bars, or at least very far away from his loved ones. 

Or six feet under. Asahi knew which option he preferred.

He would find a black haired girl, somewhere in the next city over, and offer to be her Prince.

Asahi wasn’t stupid. He knew things weren’t going to be easy for him to accomplish, but accomplish these things he would, even if it killed him. Shouko died last time to ensure he got his sister back, and he would not spit on her memory by letting this chance go to waste.

Although... how he got this chance, he was not sure. 

The purple-haired boy clothed himself, and prepared for the day. Wandering into the kitchen, he located the knife he knew his father kept (formerly out of his reach, but he knew where it was now), the lighter, and a small trash can.

His mother wouldn’t be the one to suffer jail time for his death.

He would only suffer a few months, a year at most. Assuming they caught him, and he would make sure they wouldn’t before he found Shio.

He was fine with that.

And so he waited for his father to come home, although whether he would come home from whoring, drunk, or in a rage, he did not know. He had made himself scarce the last time he had lived through his day; indeed, he never stayed inside his prison home if he could help it, preferring to spend some nights outside rather than in.

Of course, it only made whatever punishment his father had contrived worse whenever he returned.

That was how he lost his nails.

Morning turned to noon, and noon to evening. Asahi sustained himself by looting his father’s meager food supplies, usually forbidden to him, but, in his unique scenario, he threw away his restrictions on the basis of two things;

       a) His father will be dead, therefore, he won’t be needing to eat anything but rock, dirt, and worms.

       b) If he botched this up, his father was going to beat him to death anyways.

The sun was beginning to set when he heard the door open quietly. Cautiously, a kitchen knife in hand, Asahi left his room to go see if his father’s time was at hand. Hiding behind a wall, he carefully peered past it, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Only, there would be no such moment, for the person at the door was not his father

Instead, it was Asahi's mother who stood in the doorway, whose determined look turned to shock when she saw him there, and she rushed to him and wrapped him in an unexpected but welcome. “Asahi, darling,” she smiled. "It's been so long."

He couldn’t help the tears escaping his eyes. “Mom…”

She squeezed him gently, lovingly, and Asahi leaned into it. “Don’t worry, sweetling. I-- I’m going to make things better. Just stay outside, and don’t come back in. There’s something I need to do.”

Before Asahi could persuade his mother that no, you shouldn’t be the one to kill him, you don’t deserve to go to jail, let me, there was a knock on the now open door. They both flinched backwards in horror, and Asahi’s mind raced. 

Is he already back? No no no, please no! Not with mom--

His panic attack was cut short by him recognizing that the man standing just outside was in fact not his bastard father, but a police officer with remorseful smile. “Is this the Kōbe residence?”

Asahi’s mother let him go, shifting in front of him protectively, and his heart clenched. “Y-yes, it is.”

The officer nodded his thanks at the question's confirmation. “Then... I'm asuming Kōbe Nokombi is either your spouse, or the father of that child?”

At this point, they were both frozen in place, and Asahi honestly considered just stabbing the officer, grabbing his mother, and making a run for it.

Yet, he did not move, and neither did his mother. “Y-yes, he’s my-- my husband.”

The officer nodded, and took out a notepad. His smile faded, leaving a consolatory expression on his face. “Is that so... In that case, I'm sorry to inform you, but at seven thirty-five today,  Kōbe Nokombi was shot dead in a bar fight just downtown. My condolences”

Silence.

The two Kōbes stood there, stunned at the news they had just digested. The stillness persisted for a moment.

Then Asahi laughed.

He duly noted that it was the first time he had genuinely laughed in a long, long time.

It wasn’t long before his mother grinned, as if the sun had finally emerged from a sixteen year-long storm. She embraced him, and then they cried.

The officer was, quite obviously, confused, so Asahi released himself from his mother, smothered his laughs, turned, and bowed to the officer. “Thank you for bringing us this news, officer, but, as you can see, he’s not particularly liked around here.”

Asahi froze when the officer’s eyes narrowed at him, seemingly judging him. Then, in a surprise, he turned to his mother, face downcast. “...I see.” He shook his head in disgust. “Domestic violence is one of those cases that we as law informant are woefully unprepared to deal with. While I don’t know the man, his death seems to have relieved you of suffering, so I’m glad I could help in that, at least.”

His mother nodded slowly. “...Thank you, officer.” With that, she turned away, seemingly about to usher Asahi and herself into the house, before the officer's next words stopped them in their tracks.

“But,” the officer continued, “your son looks rather worse for wear. When was the last time he's been to a hospital?”

Yuuna was quiet for a moment before replying, voice despondent. “...not since his birth. Nokombi never really let me leave the house until Sh--” She cut herself off abruptly and Asahi himself winced, correctly deducing that his mother could not bear the thought of her other child that she had left in an alleyway, but the officer seemed to get the gist of the message. Turning away from them for a moment, he dialed a number on his phone before holding it to his ear.

“Oi. Yeah, I brought them the news. Speaking of which, I want to end my shift early tonight. These folks look like they could use some help. Can Hiro cover for me? Great. Thanks.”

...he wants to help us? 

Asahi was immediately on his guard. All adults were liars, save his mother, that much had been ingrained into him by his sixteen years of living...

But... he would admit, a hospital sounded like heaven right now. The wounds hidden beneath the many bandages he wore ached, just as they always did. Yet another pain Asahi had learned to live with, yet he would prefer it if they were gone.

But, ultimately, it was his mother’s choice to decide if they went with him or not, and he would trust her decision, whatever it might be.

Getting off the phone, the officer seemed startled for a moment, before turning back to them. “I’m sorry, it seems I forgot my manners. My name’s Samariajin Yoki. Or Officer Sam, as I'm called around here. Rolls off the tongue easier, I think.”

Yunna bowed. “A pleasure, Officer Sam. May I inquire what you meant as in ‘help’?”

Officer Sam snapped his fingers. “Ah, right. Your son looks like he’s in dire need of a hospital, and you look like you need a good night’s sleep. If you wish, I can drive you over to the hospital, and you two can spend the night there.”

Yunna startled at that. “But-- I don’t have the money to pay for--”

“You--” Officer Sam interrupted, “--are not paying anything at all. I am. I have plenty of money to spare, and you two look like you could use all the help you can get." Then the officer's face took on a sheepish expression. "Of course, it’s your choice. I’d never force you.”

Gods, he sounded so genuine.  

Asahi wanted to trust him. He did not know why, but he very much wanted to-- however, he wanted his mother to feel safe more than he wanted to trust in another adult, so he turned to look at her, his gaze questioning. 

You choose, mom. I trust you.

Yuuna hesitated for a moment, then hesitated some more, and, all the while, Officer Sam waited patiently. Asahi actually caught his eyes, but the man simply smiled. Everything will be okay, the smile said, and Asahi oh so desperately wanted to believe him.

His mother shifted, then moved towards the officer. To Samariajin’s surprise, Yuuna hugged him, and Asahi heard a quiet sob.

“Thank you.”  

Samariajin looked at him, and Asahi glared at the adult, a warning in his.

You have my mother’s trust. Don’t break it, or I'll make you regret it.

He nodded back carefully, and Asahi, for the first time, felt satisfied in the promise given to him by the adult.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

The drive over to Yuuji Hospital was quite, but calm. 

Samariajin had taken off his officer hat and seemed a bit more laid back, conversing quietly with Asahi’s mother, who sat in the front of the cruiser with him. Yuuna, for once, felt free to speak with the good Samaritan that had seemingly come in from nowhere, as if heaven-sent.

Asahi was just content in thinking.

Should I tell someone? Of what I know, what I lived?

He immediately dismissed the idea. No, they’d never believe me. I need evidence if I’m going to get her out of the way and free Shio. 

It had to be soon, though, before Shio’s mind was irreversibly damaged, at least, more so than it already was.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, he was sleepy. Yet, he got up, and went with the two adults to the front desk, where he was prescribed a room and several nurses to see to it he was treated.

Before he fell asleep for the night, his mother came to visit, him, and, in a shaky voice, she confessed to him what had happened to Shio, something Asahi appreciated her not hiding. Even so, before he let sleep take him again, he grabbed her hand. “I’ll save her,” he mumbled sleepily. “Then we’ll be a family again. Right, mom?”

The last thing he saw before he fell asleep was his mother's smile.

Chapter Text

He woke up in a bed that most certainly did not belong to him.

He also woke up to find that the aches of injuries that had been a constant presence for gods-know-how-long had faded, leaving him feeling nothing, in the good way.

The bed was soft.

Shifting inside the blankets, Asahi blearily took in his surroundings, noting that he was no longer in a hospital, but a quaint, unassuming room. There was a shelf in one corner, a desk in another, and one more bed besides him, with his mother’s jacket laying upon it.

That was what woke Asahi up in full, fear for his mother screaming through his head as he scrambled out of bed and made for the room’s door.

The hallway, to his surprise, was that of a normal house (and not the torture chamber his sleep-ridden mind had conjured upon awaking, thank the Kami), a set of stairs evidently leading downstairs lying halfway between his door and the one on the end of the hallway.

Where am I?

“Asahi!”

His mother’s voice echoed from downstairs, and Asahi rushed towards it, though slightly slower than before.

She sounded… at ease. Content.

The anxiety began to ebb.

Descending from the stairs, Asahi turned into what was apparently the home’s kitchen, which in turn led to the dining room. To his relief, and mild surprise, both Yuuna and mister Samajiarin were seated at a table, coffee mugs in hands, a TV droning in the background. The two had obviously been conversing before Asahi woke, and called for him after hearing his commotion upstairs.

Samariajin (would it just be easier to call him Yoki? Samariajin was a really long name, Asahi wondered to himself) shot a welcoming smile his way, a split second after his mother did, and Asahi smiled back. “‘Morning, mom. Good morning, mister Samariajin.”

His mother beamed at him (Gods, how long had it been since she had been this happy?  So unburdened?) and Yoki dipped his head in acknowledgement. Sliding into a chair besides his mother, who he leaned into near-instinctively, he reveled in the bliss of the moment, before asking a question. 

“Um, where exactly are we? This isn’t the hospital.”

Yoki and his mother shot each other a quick look (which he noticed, and wasn’t sure what to make of it) before Yuuna answered. “The nurses patched you up rather quickly, then recommended we bring you home. And since that place wasn’t an option, Yoki let us stay here for the night.”

“And as long as you need to,” Yoki reminded her, and Asahi’s mother nodded thankfully.

Asahi himself just stared.

Who is this guy, this adult, who came out of nowhere? Why is he so willing to help us?

As the two adults fell back into idle conversation, the purple-haired teen pushed away all thoughts of the circumstances behind the appearance of Yoki in their lives, and begun to plan for his trip to the next city over.

His sister was still held captive (by her and Stockholm Syndrome) and he needed to move quickly if he was to bring her home.

Asahi would fix his broken family for good, and gods help whoever got in his way.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

Instead of leaving immediately, he decided to wait until nightfall, wanting to soothe himself in the warmth Yoki’s home provided.

As it turned out, despite living in Japan for the better part of his life, the police officer was actually Irish by birth, which apparently explained his red hair and beard, and had moved to Japan when his parents got transferred for some job they did. Eventually, they decided they liked it too much to move again, and they settle down. Yoki’s parents now lived somewhere in the rural areas, his sister working overseas, and he remained to keep the town he’d grown up in safe.

Asahi found he quite liked the man.

Although, come to think it, his opinion might be biased because of his mother, but he was fine with that.

His mother deserved the world, Asahi knew, and it seemed to be a sentiment that Yoki shared.

It was nice, knowing that his mother would be safe if he left. He knew, for some odd reason, that Yoki would take care of her.

After all, he’d already done that, hadn’t he? Stopping her from committing murder, albeit unkowingly, taking him to the hospital, letting them rest in his home.

If Asahi didn’t know any better, he’d proclaim the man to be a godsend.

A memory buried deep in his head seemed to push itself to the forefront of his mind, before Asahi shrugged, and the strange feeling was gone.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

Night had fallen, and Asahi knew it was time to go.

He knew the bus route to the part of the city Shio was, having traversed it before with the little money he’d been scrounging up before his bastard father’s death before spending the rest on Missing Person posters.  

Asahi took a shuddering breath. 

The last time he’d done this, it had taken far too long for him to find his sister, forcing him to resort to… other measures that he’d rather not use this time around.

This time, he knew where his target lay.

Finishing the note he was writing, he left it on his mother’s bed where she would easily find it when she returned to bed, shouldered the pack of food and change of clothes (courtesy of Yoki again) and snuck out of his room and down the stairs. His mother and Yoki were still conversing with each other, this time sitting on the couch instead of at the table.

Asahi was about to make for the back door when he heard a chocked sob, and spun around.

Yuuna was sobbing into Yoki’s shoulders, arms wrapped him, and the man seemed to be soothing her. Asahi overheard several key words, most prominent was “Shio,” “My fault,” “Horrible mother” and the like.

His resolve hardened.

Give me time, mom. 

I’ll fix this.

He slipped out the backdoor, no one the wiser, and caught the first available bus to the heart of Kana-Shi City.

Somewhere, the last broken fragment of his family was waiting for him to save.

And, gods be good, he’d do so.

(And maybe meet a raven-haired princess on the way).

Chapter Text

As much as he wanted to, Asahi could not sleep.

He had paid his bus-fare as soon as he hopped on, then plopped down in his seat and waited for the bus to leave. Just as the bus rolled onto the main street, he caught sight of both his mother and Yoki turning the corner in a rush, obviously having set out to find and retrieve him.

Asahi’s mouth set in a hard line, and it stayed that way even when he lost sight of them. When the buss pulled on to the highway, he sighed. Asahi, when writing his explanation to his mother, had deliberately excluded where he was going to rescue, unwilling to put them in the sight of that murdering, psychopathic, godforsaken spawn of a whore--

…

“Alright. Anger issues are still a thing,” he muttered softly to himself, shaking his head. When this was all over, he’d be needing therapy, he knew. Hell, everyone in his family was going to need therapy, by the looks of things. His mother had a mental breakdown, which led to this problem in the first place--not that he blamed her, he would never blame her for this, or anything in his life thus-far (though that did not diminish the miniscule voice in his mind that did), Shio had some form of Stockholm Syndrome most likely, and at the premature end of his last life had definitely ended up with some form of survivor’s guilt, and something… else. Something full of her.

It was then that Asahi came to a sudden realization.

Though he had been brought back to save his family (by who or what, he did not know, it was as if he had forgotten something important), it was entirely possible he could fail. He was only human, after all, and it was clear that she had much more physical prowess than him, at least in weaponry. She might simply kill Shio to keep her away from him; he wouldn’t put it past her to do so.

If that was the case…

If, gods forbid, Shio died because of her…

His fists clenched, enraged at the thought.

Fuck the law, or morals. If that happens, I’m going to hunt her down to the end of the Earth and make what she did to Shouko look like a campfire.

I’ll fucking tear her apa--

Asahi stopped that train of thought, and inhaled deeply, before exhaling.

“...therapy, yeah. That’s a good idea.”

...Gods, his life sucked.

Asahi fell silent, content to simply remain in his spot, and the bus continued down the road to Kana-Shi. Shifted in his seat, eventually, he chose to lay down on the one to his immediate right; the bus ride would be two hours all in all, and it had been near-eleven when he left Yoki’s house. Lying down would help keep the tiredness at bay, and gave him time to think.

Of course, even his mind did not give him respite.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

It was thirty minutes later before Asahi realized the universe had played him an error.

...Today is Friday.

Fuck.

Shit!

Public Transit Services didn’t operate normally on weekends, and some routes were omitted. Like the route to Yoki’s home. Or mother’s. And he didn’t have the money to call a taxi for such a long distance back, which meant…

Which meant…

He’d be stuck in that city for three whole days. With her. With nowhere to sleep. No food, no water, and just enough stolen money (from Yoki, he hadn’t had time to go back to his bastard father’s home to grab his stash) for two or three bus tickets.

 Asahi let out a shuddering sigh. He hadn’t even arrived to the area Shio was and already things were going wrong.

What am I going to do?

Leaving Shio with her until he could find a route back after the work-week started was not an option Asahi would entertain-- the longer she stayed there, the more of a mental hold Satou will have on his sister, and that was not something he was willing to let continue any longer than it already had.

Getting Shio out would be first priority upon getting of this bus (the second being find a baseball bat ), and that was simple enough. Asahi knew that his sister's captor went to school and had an afterschool job, assuming he recalled correctly, so it was simply a matter of breaking in while she was gone and whisking Shio away.

But where?

Until transit lines started their weekday routes, he was going to be stuck in Kana-Shi, and under no circumstances would he let Shio sleep under some bench, absolutely not.

So where could they--

...Oh.

Aah.

Within the city, besides Shio, there were three other people he’d acquainted himself with. The guy who pedo’d after his sister (Taiyo Mitsuboshi, that was his name), Satou Matsuzaka (his raged spiked at the thought of her name)...

And Shouko.

Undoubtedly, the prettiest, most kind-hearted girl he had ever met. A girl who, unlike most  people Asahi knew, did not pretend as if her problems were non-existent, but shoved them aside to help others in theirs regardless.

She was the only person in that city he could trust completely, despite not having met her this time around.

And, thankfully, Asahi knew her home address by heart-- though, he would have been hard-pressed to forget it, two lives or no.

After all, he had been the one to inadvertently lead her to her death. Who else was there to explain her passing to her parents but him?

He had owed her parents an apology, and owed Shouko herself a debt he had never been able to repay, and most likely never would.

Maybe... even though he could never truly repay such a debt, he could take the time to at least attempt to. He had little choice, anyways; she was the only person who he knew would not try to take Shio for herself or spill the beans to Satou as soon as she applied pressure like he had to Mitsuboshi.

So, to Shouko’s he would go, and he would pray that she’d buy the lie that he was a friend coming over for a sleepover. If not…

I’ll take Shio and run, then. I’ll carry her all the way back home, if I have to.

I’d endure anything… 

Anything, for…

...my... family...

With the soothing hum of the engines rumbling on in the background, Asahi finally fell into a fitful, restless sleep.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

“Hey, kid.”

Someone shook his body and Asahi immediately sat up from his position on the chairs, blinking in disorientation. “Wha-- what’s wrong? Where are we?”

The bus driver pointed to the door. “This is the last stop, buddy. Everyone else is gone, and I can’t leave you in here. You'd best get going."

Shaking the sleep out of his eyes and mumbling his thanks to the driver, Asahi hastily exited the vehicle, before letting out a shuddering breath.

For better or for worse, he had arrived.

Kana-Shi glimmered just the same as the city had in his last life, and Asahi was not sure whether to be thankful that had remained the same or whether to be disappointed.

For a beautiful city, it sure has a lot of grime underneath.

...

As much as he wanted to, going to retrieve Shio now would be suicide; it was only around one-thirty, and Satou would definitely be home around this time, and any attempt to break in to that cursed apartment would be met with death on his part.

Asahi picked a path he knew would take him in the general direction of the city park and began to trudge down it. He would spend the night under one of the benches in that park, just like last time, then go stake out Shio’s location in the morning. But first…

Eventually finding, and wandering down a neighborhood, he found the aluminum baseball bat in the same place he had first found it, and his lips quirked upwards slightly. “At least some things in this damn city stay the same.”

Grabbing the bat, he began to walk again, slowly making his way across the city, heading to the park, before gradually coming to a halt.

Even if I break Shio out tomorrow... where could we stay? She's sure as hell not going to spend the night outside... So where--

The phone in his pocket suddenly felt heavy.

Asahi knew Shouko’s number. Knew it by memory, in fact, when she had made him swap numbers with her. It would be so, so easy to just call her, despite the fact that, to her, he would just be some stranger who happened to possess her contacts.

I shouldn’t.

His body decided to ignore him, the traitor, and he pulled out his phone and dialed her number, all the while scoffing internally as he did so. Idiot! What’re the chances of her being up this time, anyways? And what does it matter?! You don’t know her in this life, and she doesn’t know you! There’s no point in--

The ringing stopped, and Asahi froze.

“H-hello? Who is this?”

She… answered.

Holding back a shuddering sigh (that in of itself was a boldfaced lie-- it was all the boy could do to keep himself from sobbing), Asahi answered back into the receiver. “I-- I’m sorry, this is--" A near sob wracked his throat suddenly, clogging up his words, and he shoved it back into his throat. "This was stupid. I'm sorry, I really shouldn’t have called. I’m gonna--” hang up, his brain supplied, and he made to do so.

And then Shouko spoke again, and he stopped completely.

She only spoke one word, one name, despite the fact that she should not know it, and his breath froze in his lungs.

And, yet, it was Shouko's wavering voice that floored him, her voice that murmured back, stunned.

"...Asahi?”

Chapter Text

Her memories of her first day back were hazy, and most of what Shouko knew came from what her parents had told her.

From the little she remembered, it had started out normal enough-- she had woken up in her bed, as one was wont to do, and had gotten up to prepare for her day.

Then, abruptly, she emembered that she had died.

Shouko not only recalled, perfectly, mind you, the way she died, but how-- a pale hand muffling her screams, a knife to her throat, then through it, and then a burning pain--

--and then Shouko was reaching for said throat because all of a sudden the room was dark and cold and she was gasping for air because she couldn’t breathe shecouldn'tbreatheSHECOULDNTBREATHE--

At 7:03 on a Saturday morning, Shouko Hida went into cardiac arrest.

The only reason she had been discovered soon enough to have been given medical attention was due to the fact that her parents had already risen from bed and were arguing about yet another problem in the hallway just outside her room, so they had heard the thump caused from her fall from bed. Her mother’s paranoia for her health had been high since her fever when Shouko had been three, so she had immediately ceased paying attention to whatever it was that had been the root of the argument and made to check on her.

The sight of her daughter suffocating on the floor in near-silence was not something she had truly expected, however.

Within ten minutes, paramedics were on-scene, thanks to her Shouko’s parents pulling some strings and shifting some money around, and successfully halted her premature death, although Shouko wasn’t sure she wanted them to.

The girl hadn’t struggled against her lack of air, after all. Maybe that was a sign? Should she have been worried?

Maybe she might have been more shaken about the whole experience had she not already fallen to that method of death.

Maybe Shouko was dead after all, and this was all just a dream in her death throes. Or the afterlife, maybe?

It certainly felt like it.

When Monday came and her parents insisted she attend school to keep up the ‘good girl’ façade, Shouko did so with no complaints, not that she could summon up the energy to do so anyways. She slogged through the school day as if trudging through waist-deep mud, yet always feeling as if every little thing that happened around her-- from the muffled conversations of the classmates, to her answering the teacher’s questions, to her deliberately avoiding Satou at any given opportunity-- was detached from her.

She felt nothing, cared for nothing.

The lunch she had been packed tasted too bland. The chatter of the cafeteria was too loud. Satou’s staring eyes were too red.

Shouko was numb to it all.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

After school, she was confronted by the demon masquerading as her friend, somewhat surprisingly (or at least, it would have been surprising had Shouko actually registered the emotion like regular people.

She hadn't).

The exact words Satou spoke to Shouko flew over her head, but she got the general gist of it.

Are you alright, Shouko? You look pale, and you're not as lively as you usually are.

Shouko didn't have to hear the voice to recognize the false concern plastered all over her friend's face.

Were she actually in-sync with her emotions, Shouko might have felt some sort of indignant anger or rage at her killer for expressing concern over her wellbeing, but she wasn’t, so she didn’t.

She vaguely remembered telling Satou that she was fine and to drop the subject before she turned around to walk home.

Upon arriving home and assuring her parents with false smiles and fake platitudes, she went up to her room, did the work assigned by the teacher that day, and went to sleep, ignoring the salty stream of tears streaking down her cheeks.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

Shouko did the same thing the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

And on and on it went until Wednesday morning.

As it would turn out, her parents were not as incompetent in noticing the sullen change that had overcome her, and had granted her leave to spend the day off from classes. Having given her the choice to stay or go to school, they both left for their respective jobs, leaving Shouko alone with her thoughts.

Shouko wasn't sure whether to thank them or to curse them for that. Being left alone with no distractions meant there was nothing to keep her mind off the events of her past life.

She didn’t want to think of them.

She didn’t want to feel them.

...

...But she did so anyways.

Shouko pondered the choices that had brought her there; the friends she made, the mistakes she had created, and the last great deed in her life--

And then her muted thoughts ground to a halt, and, for the first time since waking up, her mind cleared with horror.

Oh, gods. Shio.

She died because she wanted to help the purple-haired Prince in his quest to save his sister.

A quest that, if this was truly not a cursed afterlife, had been undone. Which meant that Asahi was right back to where he started in said quest.

And it was all her fault, wasn't it?

It had to be, right?

If she hadn’t been so naïve, so trusting in the girl she thought her best friend, she wouldn’t be here. She would’ve taken the picture regardless, she knew, but she wouldn’t have stayed around long enough for Satou to--

The numbness threatened to encroach again, and Shouko tamped it down.

What had happened, after she had died? Had Asahi gotten her message? Had he saved his sister?

Or did he spend the rest of his days wandering in the wrong direction, looking for someone he would never find?

...

What does it matter? Any progress he made was undone when I woke up.

Shouko smiled bitterly.

Yes, she decided.

This was her fault.

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

The numbing sensation hung over Shouko's head for the rest day before she finally managed to break through it's poisonous veil on Thursday afternoon with the sudden decision that she would not let herself lay down and die.

(Not yet, at least. Not until she had helped rectify her mistake.)

The raven-haired girl began to start throwing around plans in her mind on how to free Shio, preferably without alerting Satou to the fact.

Shouko had contemplated simply heading over to her apartment while Satou was working and break in to whisk Shio away, but even if she managed that, what then?

Shio couldn't stay here for long, Shouko knew. It would only be a matter of time before Satou comes over just to check that her recent coldness towards her was in no way related, and she doubted Shio’s ability to stay hidden from her once-friend. But, on the other end, where else could Shio stay? She had no idea when Asahi would show up underneath that park bench and had absolutely no way of knowing where Asahi’s mother was, or his father (didn’t he mention something about a bastard father?) for that matter.

The only thing left to link Shouko to her Black Prince was a phone number.

A number she had forgotten.

Why is it, whenever she needed someone something, they it was never there? Be it of the world or from the recesses of her own mind.

She spent the hours till Friday desperately racking her brain for any single digit that could bring her closer to Asahi, but in the end, only managed to recreate half the number, to her anguish.

In a fit of rage that she couldn’t recall feeling in what could have been years, she threw her phone against the wall, where it miraculously didn’t break.

Then she went to sleep.

She promised herself that she would not cry, this time.

(She lied).

/\/\/~Kintsugi~\/\/\

My phone is ringing.

That was Shouko’s first subconscious thought as the buzz from her phone’s ringtone woke her up at some kami-forsaken hour in the morning, and she groaned slightly at the irritating noise. Gods, the sun isn’t even up. Looking at her digital clock, she noted with numbed annoyance (the numbness returning was not a good sign) that it was only one-thirty-seven in the morning.

Who would call me at this time?

Of her phone contacts, she had blocked all but her parents and her distant cousins numbers as of late; all the others had been hookups and flings she had taken a special liking to when she had been…

Well.

Since she had considered her Prince found, Shouko had no need for them, nor did she want to be associated with such things anymore, and had blocked and deleted the numbers.

So who would..?

Crawling out of bed, the raven-haired girl crossed the room to the wall she had phone her device against, before scooping it up and immediately turning back to her bad and jumping underneath the blankets, and only then did she look at the number--

Only to freeze upon seeing the first half of it.

The first half of Asahi’s number.

...

A treacherous part of her did not want to answer the call.

The world had shown her, time and time again, that all her hopes would eventually come crashing down before her; her relationship with her parents, her trust in Satou, the prince she had spent so long looking for leaving with no intent to return, and so much more. Yet, here she was, a forgotten number in her hands from the one person who shouldn't have hers.

But gods, Shouko wanted to believe it was him.

It probably wasn't. They had never met in this life, not once. It shouldn't be him, it couldn't.

But it might.

Slowly, almost reluctantly and full of hesitation, Shouko pressed the answer button, and the call connected.

“H-hello? Who is this?”

There was hushed silence on the other end, and Shouko felt a stomach sink--

--and then the response came through, and her heart soared.

“I-- I’m sorry, this is--"

It’s him.

Asahi. Asahi AsahiAsahi.

Did that mean she wasn’t the only one that had died? Did Asahi remember another life?

Did this mean she wasn’t alone?

"--this is stupid," she heard him speak over the silence, and Shouko felt her heart plummet.

He-- he sounds as broken as I am.

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn’t have called. I’m gonna--”

He's going to hang up.

He's going to leave again.

Shouko could have let it go.

She could have let the boy hang up, and most likely never hear from him again. She could forget the situation with his sister, forget that same sister was partially responsible for her death (not that she blamed Shio, no). She could go back to living a seemingly regular life, and go on about her night and sleep. She could go back to school the next day, content with her life, and go about life as a teenager her age was supposed to.

Shouko didn’t want that.

At that moment, the only person she wanted was on the other end of line.

So, she answered.

“...Asahi?”

Don't go, don't go, don't leave again.

There the other end of the line was still, for a moment.

Then, on the other side, her Prince let out a strangled sob.

Chapter Text

Shouko was not an idiot. 

She knew, very well, midn you, that some illness (and ‘some illness’ Shouko hoped it would remain, for she refused to label it)  had plagued her mind since she had awoken again after dying. She recognized the numbness for what it was, and what it meant. Of course, just because she could recognize it didn't mean she could bring herself to do anything about it, however-- the few times she had actually managed to regain feeling for some reason or other, her mind had been preoccupied with other things, and every other time, the cold curtain that fell upon her and blocked out much of the world around her made Shouko’s mind too hazy to ascertain what to do.

Asahi’s voice dispelled that veil, for some reason.

It had taken all she had to not break into tears upon hearing her Prince’s ragged, broken voice on the other end of the receiver, though thankfully, Asahi seemed to recover quickly from whatever had gripped him, at least long enough to tell her (beg her, really, and Shouko wasn't sure what to make of that) that he needed a place to stay for a while.

Shouko wasted no time in inviting the violet-eyed boy over, despite the fact that it was just past midnight and such a situation would be difficult to explain to her parents, seeing as she had been smart enough never to bring the boys she had been fooling around with home (and whenever she thought back to those days, her heart sank a little bit lower. She would have to tell Asahi of that someday, but how? Would he still think good of her if she did? Would he be disgusted with her? Would he stay if she told him?), but how could she not invite Asahi here? This wasn't like the first time they had met in that park, no. They weren't strangers, though they should be.

Asahi remembered! He knew and he remembered! He called her! He needed her!

She was wanted!

How could she turn him away? Her Prince had finally come to her, beyond all conceivable odds, and Shouko would never let him go again without a fight.

So, she had thrown herself out of her bed, tiptoed out of her room, and quietly made her way downstairs. An easy task, given that her parents were asleep and were unllikely to wake at this godforsaken hour.

That is how Shouko found herself waiting in front of the back door, sitting by the nearby table, a mug of mango juice in hand and another waiting on the table besides her. Before she had been forced to end the conversation over the phone, for Asahi’s phone was running on low power, Shouko had given the violet-haired boy the number code to pass the gate to the back of their property, and she had taken the precaution to temporarily disable the alarms, something she had learned to do during her formerly-frequent nighttime galivanting, and unlocked the back door as it was, leaving it closed, but ready to be opened at the slightest notice.

And now she waited, staring longingly at the door. 

Oh, no doubt, Shouko could have gone back to bed for a half-hour or soand caught a much-needed nap, seeing as Asahi appeared to be a good few miles away from her house, and yet...

Asahi was close. He was so, so close, and from what she remembered from their first and only kiss, he was warm, soft. Lively.

Her bed, in contrast, was cold. Alone.

She was cold enough already without that reminder.

...at least, if she was to be alone, she wanted to be alone with him. Shouko didn’t mind that at all, really. In fact, she cherished the thought.

Although , Shouko thought to herself morosely, I’ve been alone for longer than I’ve realized, haven’t I?

Satou was no friend of hers, and Shouko didn’t really think she ever truly had been-- at least, if Satou had been genuine, those feelings had faded after she had found Shio. Her parents barely made time for her, and the most she had seen them in one room without sitting in tense silence or quietly arguing with one another was the day she woke up after her heart attack. The few other friends she held at school were superficial, at best, save a few whom Shouko had done her best to avoid in classes these past few days due to her coping with having died and come back (wrong, a part of her whispered) in what, to her, barely felt like a day, then nearly dying again.

The only other companions Shouko actually had were the boys she had formerly galivanted with, and they were, at best, mere acquaintances formed after hookups, and her cousins who visited every year or so for two weeks, and Shouko hadn’t spoken to them since the last time she had seen them.

For a person living in a bustling city, she was oh, so alone.

But… maybe…

Maybe that purple-haired prince could could fill that empty void in her life.

Gods, Shouko hoped he wanted to.

The girl’s morose thoughts were abruptly cut in two by the sound of knocking at the door, and Shouko shot up from her seat.

He… he came. 

Asahi was here.

With no hesitation whatsoever, Shouko strode forward to open the door.

He had been standing there for five minutes, and yet his hand had never touched the knob.

When Shouko's voice crackling from over the speaker re-affirmed to him that no, this was not a dream, this is real, all of it, you are not hallucinating, Asahi had found himself unable to speak for fear that's he'd begin to cry with no end in sight. He had stood there, in the middle of an empty sidewalk, saying nothing but the barest responses just so he could listen to her voice for just a bit longer.

Oh, how Asahi had taken her for granted in his last life. He had foolishly thought, that day he had departed for the bullet-train, that he could return to visit Shouko upon finding Shio, wherever she was, and they could talk and laugh and do everything else friends were supposed to do.

...That was, Asahi presumed, what friends were for.

It was hard to tell, seeing as he had none.

Disregarding his morose thoughts, Asahi had been hesitant to knock and announce his presence for some time now, and he knew exactly why.

Was it right to impose himself on her? What right did he have? Did he deserve to have that right? Did Shouko deserve to have to deal with him and his problems?

Was it not his problems that led her to die?

Asahi didn’t know the answers to any but the last of those questions, and it was an answer he hated to think about, because the answer was no.

It wasn’t Asahi’s problems that led to Shouko’s death. To blame his problems would give them too much credit that was underserved.

The blame fell to him and him alone.

A part of him knew that what he was doing was unreasonable. It hadn’t been him that had wrenched the life from Shouko’s body, nor had it been him that had set her body aflame. A small part of Asahi knew was not truly to blame.

The rest of Asahi thought otherwise, and Asahi himself agreed with that sentiment.

I should leave. She doesn’t deserve to have to deal with me.

Yet, there he stood, undecided.

His mind was creaming at him to leave, yet begging him to stay. Asahi wanted to give in to the half that told him to flee--

--but to flee was to leave Shouko behind, and he had done that once before.

To leave this place-- to leave her-- was to resign himself to loneliness, and he had walked that path before. It had led to nothing but pain and loathing and death.

Never again.

What he was about to do wasn’t for Shio. It wasn't for his mother. It wasn’t for his family.

This is just for me.

Asahi raised his hand and brought it to the door, before rapping his knuckles twice. There was silence for a moment, as Asahi stood there in the darkness.

Then the door opened, and there she stood.

The two stared at each other for a moment in the stillness that followed, both somehow unbelieving of the sight before them. Two pairs of eyes, though they did not move, studied the other relentlessly, memorizing every detail they could in an effort to never forget the other again.

For a moment, a strange sort of peace descended on them.

Then Shouko brought her hands to Asahi’s cheeks and cupped them, before gently caressing his face, seemingly awestruck.

“...Your bandages are gone,” she whispered hoarsely, and Asahi felt something in him break, and he pushed himself forward, through the door and wrapping his outstretched arms around Shouko and hugging her for all he was worth.

At the same time, whatever calmness that had befallen Shouko since the phone call shattered completely, and she clung to her prince just as tightly as he clung to her.

“ You… this is real, right?” Shouko heard the boy murmur, almost desperately. “This isn’t some kind of dream? I... I’m not going to wake up right now and remember that you’re--”

She nodded her head quickly, knowing what he meant to say and she felt him fail to stifle a sob. 

“I’m sorry,” he wept into her shoulder, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-- ”

And, though she did not blame Asahi for the sins he thought himself responsible for, Shouko's only response was to cry alongside him.

"I'm sorry too."

Chapter Text

Somehow, Shouko managed to maneuver them upstairs and into her room without breaking their embrace.

It wasn’t as if she was incapable of breaking the hug, no-- Shouko could have easily let go of Asahi had it been required.  She did not let go because she would not let go. 

Against all the odds, her prince had come straight to her, and she was not going to take his presence for granted.

By the time they had reached her room, Asahi had stop his fervent apologies (there was nothing he needed to apologize for in her eyes), and Shouko had, thankfully, managed to halt her sobs.

There was no real reason to cry anymore, was there? Asahi was here. They were together.

The two teens finally broke their embrace when Shouko sat Asahi down on her bed before quickly joining him, though neither felt compelled to release the other’s hand. I’ll hold on to that, if nothing else.

…

Had they been any other people, such a silence as the one that had fallen upon them might have been uncomfortable or awkward.

That was not the case for them.

The two just sat there, simply content to drink in the sight of the other. Shouko’s hands once more reached towards Asahi’s unbandaged cheeks (he looked better without them, she decided,) caressing his face in her palms for a moment. Asahi shuddered and leaned into the touch, shuffling closer to herm and their shoulders pressed together.

He’s warm, she noted, and it wasn’t until Asahi’s own hands lifted to wipe away her tears that Shouko realized that she had started crying again-- and, through blurred eyes, she saw tears streaking down his face as well.

Asahi opened his mouth again, seemingly about to say something, only for Shouko to lean over and wrap him in a hug again, effectively silencing him long enough for her to break the silence first.

“Did you die too?”

Her prince was silent for a moment longer before Shouko felt him nod quietly against her neck, and Shouko trembled slightly.

She had failed, then. Her sacrifice hadn’t been enough, and Asahi had payed for it.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

It should have been me.

Shouko was about to voice her morose thoughts aloud to the boy, and opened her mouth to do so--

--only to end up yawning instead, to her mortification, and she immediately withdrew from Asahi’s arms in embarrassment (an action that she just-as-immediately regretted). Asahi, on the other, turned away with a apologetic look on his face. “...Maybe we should talk in the morning? It’s kinda late… Sorry about that, by the way.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, something Shouko took note of for some reason, especially the way the movement exposed more of his--

Mind out of the gutter, Shouko. Not now.

“Don’t worry about it,” she responded instantly, “I wasn’t sleeping anyways.” A lie, because she was, but Asahi was more important than sleep anyways. Shouko could sleep any time of the day if needed, but Asahi’d had every chance of not coming here before he had made the decision to call her.

But... “Yeah, you had a point, though. It is pretty late.” It was only dawning on her now how tired she really was. To much emotional baggage for one night. 

So, discarding her thoughts, she let herself fall back onto her bed before shuffling into the blankets, before looking back up to Asahi, who hadn’t moved and was staring at her for some reason.

“Uh… you have a spare bed or something? If not, I can sleep on the floor.” The boy shrugged, to her dismay. “It’s not bad once you get used to it.”

Shouko blinked, before sitting up indignantly. “Wha-- no, you’re not sleeping on the floor Asahi! This isn’t the park, we have beds here. Only…” she trailed off for a moment. “We have one guest room, but the bed isn’t set. It’s usually brought out for my cousins when they visit. So…”

Shuffling over to one side of her bed, Shouko made room for Asahi. “There’s plenty of space on my bed, so you can have that side.”

She wasn’t lying when she said that-- her bed was almost queen-sized (her parents indulge in some things, could you blame her?) and there was plenty of space for another person.

Of course, Shouko could always just grab one of the spare futons from out of the closet, but…

Asahi was right there. And warm. Very, very warm-- their hugs had proved it. 

She wanted that warmth. She wanted him, to be specific. She wanted him to hold her, keep her safe, be the gallant prince that she’d always dreamed would come and save her--

--- but a prince can’t save anyone if he himself needs saving, can he?

Asahi was hurt, that much she knew, from the sobbed apologies and the singular nod that confirmed his death, and Shouko wanted to help him, just like in her last life. She wanted to make up for her failure be there for him where she hadn’t last time, keep him warm and fed and safe, off the dirt park paths. She wanted to keep him alive.

She wanted many things, but, at that moment, all she wanted to do was fall asleep with someone besides her. So she waited for Asahi’s answer.

“Are you sure that’s okay? I could always just sleep on the--” the violet-haired boy cut himself off at Shouko’s glared and chuckled nervously. “R-right, no sleeping on the floor then.” He was silent for a moment, contemplating, and Shouko silently held her breath, only letting out a relieved sigh when Asahi nodded yes. “I brought some PJs, so, if you have a bathroom I can borrow…”

“Aah, two doors down on the left.”

Asahi smiled, and Shouko made sure to emblazoned the image in her mind, seeing as Asahi had rarely smiled in her presence in their last life. 

She swore it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

“Thanks, Shouko.”

And she smiled back.

Shouko is pretty.

Objectively, Asahi had noted the fact (for it was a fact) several times before, most prominently when she had kissed him. He wondered if she wanted to kiss him again had always been beautiful or if it was just a highschool thing, though he quickly discarded the thought. It didn’t really matter, did it? Not to him, at least.

Shouko was beautiful, that was a fact.

It was also why he was anxious about sleeping in her bed. As far as he could tell, that just wasn’t a thing friends did (Shouko was his friend, right?) and just thinking about it set off butterflies in his chest. Though, now that he really thought about it, what was there to be worried about? They were just tired, and since there was no other bed Asahi had no other place to sleep (because she barred him from sleeping on the floor for some reason, it wasn’t that bad… after a while...), her bed was the only logical choice.

So Asahi shrugged away the butterflies, changed, and returned to Shouko’s room, where she sat waiting. Upon catching sight of him, she smiled again, and Asahi’s heart melted a bit more. Any doubts he had harbored about calling her were quickly fading away. 

While, yeah, the guilt would probably return tomorrow ('Did you die too,' she asked, which meant she had, all because of him) due to the fact that he was far too tired to think about it now, right now, Asahi didn’t mind.

Flicking off the light and climbing atop the covers, Asahi lay down, facing away from Shouko. There was only so much he could take without his face turning red, after all.

There was a calm quiet, for a moment, before Shouko murmured something.

“‘Night, Asahi.”

“...’Night, Shouko.”

Tomorrow would bring all its problems, but for eight hours, they had nothing but themselves and the bliss of sleep.

And sleep they did.

In the morning, they would find their hands had found each other in the night.

Chapter Text

Shouko woke up okay.

Which, in of itself was a surprise to the girl-- considering how she had been sleeping for the past few days, waking up to anything other than the half-remembered nightmares drenched in sweat was a massive improvement from her previous sleeping arrangement. Where she used to feel even more tired from the day before, now she felt like she had actually slept for a damn night. For the first time in a week, Shouko felt okay.

The reason such a thing confused her was because she didn’t know why.  

Shouko knew she had fallen asleep later than usual, after attempting (and failing) to remember Asahi’s number. She had thrown her phone aside in an anguished burst of rage, before closing her eyes in a futile attempt to drown out the pain with sleep for a few hours. 

So why...?

Why did she feel so... happy? Well, maybe not happy, no. That emotion had been hard to come by in the past few days, and for the most part seemed content to elude her further..

She felt… at peace? Content? As if she had found something of extreme importance that had been lost to her until now. Like a cut string who’s other half had finally been re-tied to it, or a one-winged bird finally finding it’s partner.

Shouko’s question answered itself when she heard someone shift slightly to her right, and felt someone squeeze her hand warmly, and the memories of the night before came rushing back to her in full. The dreams of her missing prince pushed their way to the forefront of her mind as she caught purple hair out of the coroner of her eye.

She turned over onto her side and came face to face with a sleeping prince.

Shouko stared.

Last night had been no dream.

Asahi.

Trembling, she reached out her free hand and cupped his cheek. It was warm. Real. Not some hallucination borne from the mists that clouded around her every day. Not some half-remembered dream, fading as she searched for more concrete memories. 

Her prince had come for her at last.

Shouko blinked and found herself crying, for some reason she could not name, and as if he had heard her silent tears, the sleeping boy’s eyes fluttered before opening slightly. Asahi stared at her for a moment through bleary eyes, before gently pulling his hand from hers and lifting it to her cheek in a mimicry of what she was doing. And, with a reverence Shouko had not known he possessed, her prince wiped the tears off her face before returning his hand to hers.

“Pretty,” he murmured sleepily. “Don’t cry, s’alright.”

Then Asahi shut his eyes again, leaving Shouko alone with her thoughts.

Thoughts that, for the first time in what seemed like years, were devoid of the numbness that had dogged her since awakening from that knife to the throat.

Her throat which was currently clogging up with an emotion she could not name.

Asahi was here.

More importantly, Asahi cared . To some extent, at least, and that was more than enough.

And, despite her best efforts and his wishes, Shouko could not stop herself from crying again.

Though, this time she did not cry out of sadness, or grief, or disbelief. She knew that, at the very least.

That did not tell why she wept, though.

Shouko found she did not care.

It was in that state that she fell asleep again.

Asahi slept peacefully, and dreamt a pretty dream. It was nice. He liked it, and wished whatever he had dreamt of would return to him more frequently.

His wish was granted when he woke (for the second time, unbeknownst to him) face to to face with the object of said dreams.

Shouko.

Pretty, was his first thought. Even as she slept, she looked beautiful. Even more so than usual, maybe, for here there were no barriers to maintain, to facades to keep up Just him and her, basking in a multitude of emotions, most of them the opposite of good.

He shoved those to the side, find that he, at that moment, simply did not care for them , not with the prettiest girl in the world (as far as sleep-addled Asahi was concerned) sleeping right next to him.

…

Why was he in bed with a girl?

Asahi pondered that question for a moment before his sleep-addled mind finally conjured the memories of the previous night to the forefront, and the boy shot up from the bed abruptly.

She remembers.

I.. I’m not…

Alone. He wasn’t alone. Shouko remembered.

Asahi suddenly wanted to cry.

But, he wasn’t in a good place to do that (the only place he really felt comfortable crying, last night notwithstanding, was his room back home, and that only barely qualified in the wake of his bastard father's death), and his sobs might wake Shouko from her undoubtedly-deserved sleep, so Asahi put the thought aside for the time being. He watched Shouko’s chest rise and fall gently for a moment, reluctantly removed his hand from hers, and shuffled out of the blankets and made for the washroom to freshen up for the day.

Two steps outside of her room, Asahi ran into Shouko’s mother.

No doubt surprised to find a complete stranger in her house (surprised was too mild of a word, to put it lightly), Hida Fukasawa stared at Asahi, and he stared back, frozen. 

How was he supposed to explain this? This was a new time, a new world. Shouko’s parents had never met him in this world. The last time he had seen them--

Asahi’s vision blurred for a moment.

The first, and last time he had seen either of Shouko’s parents was after her funeral.

It had been before he had returned home from the city, while Shio was still healing from her fall, after Shouko’s funeral. He hadn’t been invited (and that was good. He didn’t deserve that privilege.), seeing as no one save Asahi himself knew of his friendship(?) with Shouko, so there had been no need, not really. But he had stood there nonetheless, the sunny blue sky standing in contrast to everything else he felt at the moment.

It had taken all he had not to immediately flee when the Hidas came into sight, but he had swallowed that want fear and stepped forward, calling out for them.

Then he had told them all he knew.

Asahi couldn’t tell them how Shouko died, but he could tell them why.

So he did.

They had said nothing when he had finished, only stared at him with twin gazes of rage and guilt and blame and anguish.

 He had muttered an apology that would never be adequate before he turned and fled.

He hadn’t expected to ever them again. And Shouko’s mother obviously had never expected to see him.

The woman took a cautious step back, towards her bedroom, and eyed him warily. “...Who are you,” she asked, “and why are you in my house?”

Then she seemed to notice that he had emerged from Shouko’s room, or at least had passed by it, and her eyes narrowed. “If you’ve harmed Shouko--”

“Never!” Asahi burst out, because it was true. He would never hurt Shouko, ever.

(He had done enough to her already.)

Taken aback by the outburst, the Hida woman stared at him a moment longer before nodding, seeming to accept his word for what it was. “Then I’ll ask again. Why are you in my house? Who are you?”

He hesitated for a moment, heavily wishing he had lingered with Shouko for a few minutes longer. That would have been infinitely better than now.

Not even five minutes away from her and he was already missing her so much it ached, despite every pain he had caused her, after practically forcing her to house him for the night.

...Gods, he was pathetic.

“I--”

The creaking of a door interrupted him, and suddenly there were three people in the hallway.

She shifted slightly to the left, and the only part of her mind awake noted that her bed was missing something. Her hand twitched, and found nothing. Sleepily, she heard what sounded like someone shifting out of the bed and feet padding for the door, though she only gave a half-hearted attempt to get up and follow before she let herself fall back to bed.

It was only when she heard her mom’s voice followed by Asahi’s did Shouko eyes flung open.

She had never told her parents she had brought anyone home, and it seemed as if Asahi had run into one of them by accident.

Flinging the covers off of her, Shouko sprung up from the bed and made for the door hastily, reaching it just in time to catch the tail-end of her mom’s questioning of her friend

Grabbing the doorknob, she opened the door, catching the attention of the two others.

“Hi,” she greeted her mom quietly, exiting her room and walking towards them, stopping only when she was besides the violet-haired boy.

“This is Asahi,” Shouko introduced nonchalantly (well, tiredly would be the more appropriate word, really. She was feeling better than she had been for days, but she could already feel her fingertips numbing). “He’s my friend. He came over last night.”

Her mom blinked, surprised, but Shouko noticed that she seemed to intense, nodding slowly. “...A friend, you say. Why did he have to come here?”

Because he needed me, a traitorous, selfish part of her mind spoke. Of course, those were not the words she spoke aloud, because they were a lie anyways. Asahi was strong, stronger than she was. Why would he need her? “Asahi needed somewhere to sleep, mom. He had nowhere else to go. Don’t be mad at him, please.”

Shouko’s mom stared at her for a moment, and Asahi did to, for that matter. She didn’t look at him, though, not wanting to risk the chance of seeing some sort of negative emotion on his face.

(She couldn’t feel her hands.)

After a short moment, Shouko’s mom sighed. “I expect you to tell us when your bringing guests over for the night,” Fukasawa spoke firmly, but not unkindly, “but if he has nowhere else to go, we can’t very well kick him out.” Then she turned to Asahi himself, and Shouko almost missed the way he flinched minutely when her mom’s gaze fell on him. “I’m sorry for the suspicion, Asahi, but seeing as I didn't know you, and you were in my house…”

“No, don’t apologize,” Asahi spoke up, just as quietly as Shouko had spoken. “I’d do the same.” Then he bowed, not only to her mom, but, to Shouko’s notification, her as well. “Thank you for your hospitality,” the boy spoke, and Fukasawa nodded, and turned away. “I’ll get breakfast started. Bring your friend down in an hour, Shouko.”

“ Hai .”

Then her mom was gone, and it was just the two of them in the hallway. It was only then that Shouko turned to Asahi, and her heart sunk when she saw the grief in his eyes.

She hugged him.

Asahi stiffened for a split moment before relaxing, returning the embrace with one of his own. “Sorry,” he murmured, and Shouko shook her head. “Don’t be,” she replied. “...Is something wrong? Did I say something…?”

It was Asahi’s turn to shake his head this time, and Shouko felt something in her uncoil slightly. “No, no, it’s nothi--” Asahi started. Then he stopped, took a shuddering breath, and seemed to curl inwards “...I… can we… talk, later? I don't wanna...” he trailed off, but she got the hint.

Not now, please.

Shouko nodded rapidly, as much as she dreaded the moment, because the rational part of her knew that they had to talk about it with someone, for their mental health, at least.

Maybe she could use the chance to apologize for failing to save Shio. She had been right there, yet she…

She had decided to trust Satou instead.

Shouko hated herself for that. She could only hope that Asahi wouldn’t hate her as well.

...But that talk could wait until later. They had an hour to kill, and there was nothing more she’d like to do than to return to bed and stave off the numbness with Asahi’s warmth.

“Bed?” she asked simply, and Asahi nodded instantly.

“Okay,” he agreed.

Two minutes later, both teens were back under the covers, dead to everything but each other.

Chapter Text

In hindsight, maybe getting back into bed with Asahi had been a bad idea.

Not that she hadn’t wanted to get into bed with Asahi in the first place, no (she had every intention of sleeping with him for the rest of his stay, and for every day of the rest of her life, in both senses if she could help it ) but now that she had reacquainted herself to the heaven-on-earth that was her curled up besides Asahi on a mattress, Shouko could barely muster up the will to get up again. The world was cold, and Asahi was very, very warm.

Unfortunately for the raven-haired girl’s momentary bliss, her mother’s voice cut through the fog of contentment that had descended upon the both of them, and with a groan, she got up, and Asahi followed with a similar sound of annoyance, rubbing at his eyes. The two hadn’t exactly changed before they’d hopped into bed again, and there was no need to, seeing as Shouko had no intention of leaving the house today, so down the two had no excuse to delay going downstairs for breakfast and explaining things to her parents.

This isn’t how I thought I’d bring a guy home.

Under normal circumstances, she would have been fine with doing such a thing-- while she never had, and never would, brought one of her flings home (it was much easier to pay for a love-hotel or just go to the other’s palace), Asahi w as anything but a fling, and Shouko would have proudly flaunted him as her Prince if she’d been able to.

Except she couldn’t, because Asahi’s face when he’d seen her mom had been the opposite of happy, and Shouko didn’t deserve him anyways.

Good things were for good people. Good people went to heaven.

Yet here she was, far from dead, stranded in a hell on earth, and she’d somehow managed to drag her prince down with her.

All because she had trusted a girl she had thought to be her friend.

God, she hated herself.

...Yet, despite her guilt, Shouko was a selfish person at heart, so the entire way down the stairs, she stayed close to Asahi, her arm brushing against his. He didn’t protest, so she hoped it was okay. 

She didn’t deserve it, but God, did she want him it.

It was hard to feel anything else without it actually-- the warmth of his arm kept at bay her utter disregard for everything else. It probably wasn’t a healthy habit to pick up on, but Shouko didn’t quite care.

The girl duly noted that she cared for few things these days.

Abruptly, they reached the bottom. Asahi faltered, and Shouko remembered suddenly that, as far as she knew, the boy had never been here in their old lives, so he didn’t know where to go. So, gently, she took his hand (again, she found herself almost unciously wonder at how much softer his hand was, it’s warmth contrasting heavily to the numbing cold she felt everywhere else) and began to guide him towards the kitchen table, where her parents were seated, seemingly in deep conversation.

An actual conversation, she pondered, mildly surprised, not the arguments that had at times seemed more like screaming competitions. She wondered what they were talking about, before Asahi shifted at her side and she set the thought aside in an instant, guiding Asahi to a chair by the table. One he sat down, Shouko took the seat to his immediate left, and contemplated (reluctantly) releasing her hold on his hand.

She decided not to. If Asahi wanted to let her go, he was free to do so at any time, but so long as he didnt move to do so, Shouko wouldn’t release that hold for the world unless he asked, no matter how undeserving of it she was.

It kept her grounded. It reminded her that she wasn’t alone-- that she didn’t have to deal with her second chance alone.

She wondered, for a moment, if it would be better to just end said second chance early. She couldn’t remember what death had been like, but surely that nothingness had been more bearable than--

“So,” her dad started, and both she and Asahi jolted slightly at the unexpected word, focus now on the elder Hida, who looked slightly unnerved but continued nonetheless, “Shouko, I haven’t seen this young man before. A new friend of yours?” he asked.

I want him to be a lot more than that, said her mind. Her lips said something else instead. “Yeah,” she nodded, “he is. This is Koube Asahi.” 

Shouko’s dad hummed, and while he did not smile at Asahi, he didn’t scowl. “Well, I’m suppose it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Though, I must ask, what exactly are you doing here?”

Silence.

When Asahi didn’t answer immediately, and the silence began to grow into something more awkward, Shouko moved to answer for him, tightening her hold on his hand gently. Are you okay? she tried to convey, but if the boy interpreted the message, he did not respond, seemingly enraptured by one of the scented candles that littered the kitchen. 

On the other end of the table, her paren ts were growing impatient, and Shouko’s mom turned to her, expecting an answer, so the raven-haired girl provided it. She hoped Asahi wouldn’t be mad.

“His dad’s is a horrible person,” she told them bluntly, because it was he truth she had discerned as much for herself (before Asahi had plain out told her), and it would hopefully appeal to her own parents. Asahi mentioned his mom one or twice back in their old lives, but the few times he had spoken of his sire, nothing but hatred and fear emanated from his voice.

(Other people might make the assumption that the father was dead. Shouko did not.)

(Asahi’s scars came from somewhere .)

Shoving the morose thoughts aside, as well as the dark fantasies forming in the raven-haired girl’s mind of her finding her friend’s father and shoving his head between the road and the tires of a fast-moving car , Shouko continued. “Asahi, he needed a place to stay. He called me last night, and I told him to come here. He slept over ‘cause he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He doesn’t know anyone else in the city.”

Nobody he trusts, at least, Shouko thought to herself, taking a perverse pride in the fact. Asahi had come to her, and that meant the world to her.

She’d just have to show it to him someti--

Abruptly, unexpectedly, Asahi’s hand fell from hers when the boy's fingers went slack, and any words she had been about to say fell away, instantly forgotten, and Shouko immediately turned to the violet-haired boy. He was still staring at the candle flame, eyes glazed.

He wasn’t--

Breathing.

He wasn't breathing.

He couldn't breathe.

Fire. Smoke. Sirens in the distance.

He was in the burning building again. He couldn’t breathe.

Why? He had been with Shouko just a moment ago, hadn’t he? Why was he back here? How was he back here? Why couldn’t he breathe?

Did it even matter? Shio was going to die anyways . Shouko was already dead .

In the distance, he could see the demoness pulling his sister further and further away, and some, near-dead part of him compelled the boy to go after them. a useless, stupid gesture, seeing as Shio had preferred to throw herself off a building the last time they had done this instead of coming home with him, preferring to die with her captor in some sick, twisted final act of stockholm syndrome. maybe he should just let her, it would make life much more easier --

He chased after them.

The fire meant nothing to him-- he could ignore the heat for long enough, the smoke filling his lungs did little to deter him, and the pain of having his nail torn off far surpassed anything he was feeling at the moment. So, through the fire he waded, chasing them from floor to floor in a never ending loop, for ever and ever and ever

Was this hell? Maybe it was. He had died, hadn’t he? Drugged himself to the point of death, right?

Maybe this was his eternal punishment for killing someone who didn’t deserve to die.

For how long he chased them, the boy didn’t know. It could have been forever, it could have been a moment. Did it matter?

He was at a door, now. The fire was getting hotter. The sweet smell of burning flesh grew stronger, and so did his anguish and anger and hate for everything that had led him to this apartment. He hated his bastard of a dad for driving his family away. He hated his mom for driving Shio away. He hated the pink-haired girl keeping his sister away from him.

The world cared not for his hates.

Then the door was open, it’s wooden frame set ajar. There was a throne within, and upon that throne sat a princess, as dead as the day he last saw her in their last life.

Asahi looked down the hallway adjacent to the door, where he could see the two he’d been chasing fleeing further upwards, before they paused. He stared at them for a moment, and they stared back.

Why am I doing this?

His gaze flickered between the dead princess and the two other girls, his mind warring against itself.

Then the boy let the bat go.

Asahi turned away from the two he had been pursuing, casting the bat into the fire, before he entered the burning apartment. He pulled the princess from her bloody throne, laying her down, and closed her eyes. When he finished, Asahi lay down besides the corpse.

He didn’t feel like he wanted to die. There were too few things compelling him to live, and oh, so many reasons to just let go. If this was his punishment, then he couldn’t die anyways. Nothing mattered. No one would care if lay here and cried.

So Asahi lay down and cried. The corpse moved, placed its hands on his shoulders, shook him while mouthing something he couldn’t really hear. “Asahi,” it whispered, “Asahi. Asahi!”

The boy didn’t speak, only leaning into the corpse’s touch ever so slightly, tired, and his head drooped.

a n d   t h e n   h e 

blinked, and he was sitting by a concerned Shouko, staring at one of the candles, its flame flickering almost seductively. His friend, who had been shaking his shoulders just a moment ago, stopped when he jerked backwards, away from the flame. Numbly, he noted that the chair he’d been sitting in had fallen over.

He didn’t want to be here anymore. 

Meeting Shouko’s parents had been hard enough, considering how their last meeting had went, in their old lives, but Asahi thought he could keep a hold on his internal guilt for the breakfast. Thought he could keep the gaze of his friend’s parents without being reminded of the fact that she had died because of him.

Then he had seen the candle, and it’s flame, oh so much like the fire that had consumed the apartment complex and that had swallowed Shio whole and that had licked and writhed at Shouko’s--

Asahi stood straight. Bowed his head. Mumbled his thanks to the Hida family.

 And then, for the second time before them, he turned and fled.

He almost suceeded, this time.

He almost made it to the front door before Shouko all-but tackled him from behind with a hug, frantic words on her lips that the boy could not hear, and Asahi broke. He could (and would , because he deserved nothing less) feel ashamed about it later, but at that moment, Shouko’s embrace was the only thing keeping him anchored, keeping him here and not ba ck in that burning building running in loops in a never ending chase with the small of burning flesh as a companion and a corpse for a 

They were back in her room. They were back on her bed.

Asahi found that he could breathe again. 

And so he did just that, trying and failing to stifle the silent cries coming from him, taking comfort in the fact that his only friend had not yet let him go.

I don’t deserve this i don’t deserve this i dont--

It may have been seconds, or minutes, or hours, but eventually he pulled his fractured self together enough to stop crying. 

“Sorry,” he spoke, voice quiet, but he felt Shouko shake her head. “It’s not your fault,” she told him. “Don’t apologize for that, Asahi. Please.” The girl’s hug tightened slightly, and Asahi felt a knot in his chest begin to unfurl.

I wish I could stay like this forever. This is… quiet.

“...I think we should talk now.”

Asahi’s hoarse words broke that quiet.

He hated it. Gods , how he hated it. Just even thinking about their old lives made him want to puke, now. If Asahi could live without ever hearing of it again, he might have been content.

But…

She-- she deserves to get answers from me.

Asahhi was a selfish person, he knew that. If this had been anyone else, he just would have never spoken of what they were about to discuss.

His selfishness got Shouko killed, last time.

Not again.

So, shoving down his nausea, he turned towards Shouko, whose surprised stare bore down on him. “Are… are you sure, Asahi?” the raven-haired girl asked, hesitantly. “We-- we don’t have to do it now. I can wait until later, till you feel better.”

“I- I’m fine,” he lied. “You don’t have to wait, I can just tell you now--”

Shouko’s eyes flashed, and she stood up abruptly.

“But you’re NOT fine!” she shouted, and Asahi flinched, jerking backwards. “I’m not an idiot , Asahi, I--”

Then she stopped and turned away for a moment, rubbing her eyes. The Shouko turned back, and sat down again, face in her hands.

“...Sorry,” came her whisper. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just-- I don’t wanna push you right now, not after you just had a...”

...

Oh, the boy realized. 

He’d had a panic attack.

Since when did he start having those? 

Maybe it was when he found his friends corpse burning in a building that he left behind to chase a sister that would rather die than come home with him, triggered by the flame that danced across his vision in a mockery of that stupid, horrible night where he chose the wrong person to s--

Asahi took Shouko’s hand, almost desperately. “I need to talk about it,” he tried to explain. “If-- if I don’t do it know, I don’t think I’ll be able to, later. Please. I’ll be fine if I stay away from f-fire, I promise.” Please understand.

Shouko looked up at him, and was silent for a moment. 

Then the girl nodded. I do, her eyes said.

“Okay,” she breathed. “I… I get what you mean, wanting to just-- get it over with. And the panic attack too. The same thing happened to me, when I woke up,” she told him quietly, and Asahi felt her hand begin to shake. “I… don’t like knives, now. That’s how she killed me.”

Chapter Text

That’s how she killed me.

She still remembered that moment vividly, and she hated herself for it. Every time she looked back to that memory unwillingly, she wished she had just turned and run, or fought against Satou’s grip, or did anything at all besides what she had.. Maybe then, their old lives would be intact if she had.

Maybe, maybe, maybe--

So many possibilities, ruined because she trusted someone she had thought her friend. Stupid.

Objectively, Shouko knew that there had been no way fro her to know what Satou was going to do, no way for her to predict the girl’s actions. No way to know that she was going to die with a knife shoved through her throat that burn ed like fire and felt like ice that robbed her lungs of air and Shouko of a chance to--

“Shouko?”

Asahi.

Her hands were shaking. Asahi was holding them, now, looking worried and frightened (and angry?), and inside, Shouko laughed bitterly at herself. She had brought him up here to comfort him, and now he had to deal with the mess that was… her . 

“She stabbed me with a knife. Satou, I mean,” she continued abruptly. “It… it was just after I sent you that picture, actually, of your sister.” Shouko kept her eyes downcast. She couldn’t look at Asahi, didn’t deserve to.

It was getting harder to breath, she noted.

“I-- I thought we could just talk it out.” Stupid. “She was my best friend! I thought she--” thought of me the same way. Idiot. “I thought I could convince her to let your sister go. Then we could just forget about everything and go back to the way things were,” she whispered, trying to ignore the cries of liar liar liar in her head. “I thought it worked.”

For half a minute, she had seen the summit of the hill. They had talked, Satou had listened, had understood! Asahi had been sent the picture, so he would know to come back to find his sister. Everything… everything would have been fine.

Then there had been a hand on her mouth and a knife through her throat.

“The cute little chick. A cry-baby and a brave singing bird.” 

“Then she killed you,” Asahi spoke, voice downcast. “And there’s no one to blame but me.”

Only then did Shouko’s eyes return to him, her own self-loathing burned away by indignation on his behalf. “No, no . I just told you not to blame yourself for things that weren’t your fault--”

The indigo-haired boy’s laughter (that sounded more like a sob) cut her off. “If you-- if you hadn’t sent that picture to me, if I hadn’t told you who I was looking for or what Shio looked like--”

“--And if I hadn’t stood there like the idiot I am, or trusted her to do the right thing--!”

“You wouldn’t have been standing there if there hadn’t been a picture to take! And she was your friend, of course you trusted her!”

“Don’t blame yourself for my stupid choices, Asahi! I didn’t ask for a fucking knight!”

“And I didn’t ask for you to die because of me, but look at where we are!”

A loud rap on her bedroom door suddenly broke the conversation, and Shouko suddenly realized that she was screaming at Asahi. Asahi, likewise, seemed to realize he was screaming back, and his expression shuttered.

“Is everything alright in there?” came her mother’s voice, and Asahi shrunk into himself, flinching at the voice.

Shouko did the same. Tried to open her mouth, to say something, to apologize to the only person in the world who actually understood her for the worthless, pathetic person she was  for screaming at him as if he had caused all her problems.

Idiot, the numbness laughed. Trying so hard to lose the only one who cares, huh? You didn’t have to put in this much effort if that’s what you wanted, you know.

“Shut up!”

The numbness fled, but Asahi’s crumpling expression did not. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Should-- maybe I should just--”

He moved to stand, only for Shouko to sit him back down again, almost desperately. Nononono please don’t go please don't go please--

“No no no, I-- Stay, please," she begged. "I wasn’t talking to you--”

Her mother’s knocking caught her attention again, and Shouko wanted to cry. It was too much, too fast. She wanted to talk with Asahi but she didn’t want him to have to deal with her and her mom kept asking for answers she couldn't give because no one would believe them and her throat felt hot and she couldn’t--

Breathe.

Asahi was besides her. Asahi had pulled her into his arms, put her head to his chest, and suddenly Shouko could hear his heartbeat, thumping and alive and warm .

Shouko took a breath, and sniffled. The voice was still gone for the moment. Her thoughts wireless jumbled. One problem at a time, she decided faintly, before reluctantly removing herself from Asahi’s arms, though not before giving the boy a parting squeeze as she did so. 

Thank you, she tried to convey, and Asahi gave her a watery smile back.

Then she turned away from the bed and moved to answer the door, exiting her room and shutting it behind her as Shouko’s mom stepped back in mild surprise. Surprise quickly turned to concern, her mom wiping away a stray tear off her face. 

“Oh, Shouko dear. What happened to you?” her mom murmured, and Shouko did her best to shrug nonchalantly. “Was having an argument, s’all. Didn’t mean to, just…” i push away everyone i want around me. “It’s nothing.”

Shouko’s mother eyed her with a look that said I know that's not all there is to it, yet she didn’t pry, and the raven-haired girl was thankful for it. “...Alright,” she said at last, before drawing Shouko in and pressing a kiss to her brow. Shouko unconsciously leaned into the warmth of her mother’s arms. Hugs from her parents were few and far between. “I take your word for it. But the moment you feel like a repeat of your… episode might happen again, you need to tell me or you father, okay?”

“...‘Kay,” Shouko lied. “We just need some time to ourselves, to get this all sorted out. Promise.”

With that, she drew away from her mother and moved back for her room. “Get some more rest, alright, honey? There’ll be food downstairs whenever you two are done.” 

Then mom was gone, and it was just Shouko in the hallway.

She breathed.

In, out. In, out. 

One problem at a time.

Shouko re-entered her room. Asahi looked up from the phone he held idly in his hand, and his eyes softened. Shouko felt safe, beneath his gaze. She hoped he felt the same.

“Sorry for yelling,” the girl spoke, breaking the silence. “And-- I wasn’t talking to you when I said to shut up. It was just… too much. Sorry.”

And the boy, that sweet, understanding, unyielding brave boy that Shouko had come realize she had somehow fallen for… simply nodded, as if forgiving her was the easiest thing in the world.

“I yelled too, remember?” the boy replied. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I should be the one to say sorry to you.” Before Shouko could shake her head and call his bull, because the fault was entirely hers, Asahi gave a tired shrug. “But… I don't wanna argue about whose fault what is anymore. I just wanna…”

He fell silent, averting his eyes from her, and Shouko, having none of that, sat herself down besides him again, and took one of his hand. 

She understood what he meant to say even though he hadn’t said it.

“I wanna hang out with you, too,” Shouko whispered. Asahi turned back to her, eyes flickering with something that drew her closer, and closer. 

She felt their foreheads touch, just like she felt his warm breaths on her face. Her free hand snaked up his neck, dragging across the faint scarring on his cheek. Asahi’s went for the small of her back, holding her tight and pulling her close.

The numbness was silent.

Shouko’s breath hitched. Her lips parted. Asahi trembled, drawing closer, closer, closer--

And then Asahi’s phone rang.

Chapter Text

Asahi wasn’t sure he had ever hated an inanimate more than he hated his phone.

He… 

He didn’t know what he’d been doing, a moment ago, drawing closer and closer to Shouko. 

The boy didn’t know what he’d been about to do, either.

Yet--

(surprise. something soft pressing on his lips. someone standing close to him, being with him. a fuzzy feeling he had never felt before. 

a feeling of safe he had never felt before, and had never felt in that life again.)

But, Asahi got the sense that it would have been something nice. Good. Soft, and warm, like his last memory of Shouko.

The shrill ringtone of his phone going off was little more than an unwelcome snap-back to their cold reality-- a harsh cry cutting through the fog of contentment that had somehow managed to to find them-- and a just-as-unwelcome reminder of a truth he had come to accept.

Asahi… didn’t deserve good things.

Good things went to good brothers.

And he wasn’t that.

Good brothers saved their sisters.

His little sister had made abundantly it clear that he hadn’t.

(“I’ve been reborn.”)

So, reluctantly, Asahi pulled away from Shouko (and the warmth that came with her), looked down at the number on the screen 

and blinked numbly as his mind blanked.

Okaa-san, the word above the number read.

“...Asahi?” came Shouko’s voice, snapping him out of his near-trance. Blinking once, then twice, the boy exhaled, trembling as he stared at the screen in in hands, brightening the half-dark room with its foreboding flow.

The last time he had seen his mother had been just over a day ago. 

It felt like years. 

The last time I saw mom was years ago, Asahi realized abruptly, the thought bubbling up from a dark part of his mind. When she left with Shio. When I stayed.

His mom, who hadn’t wanted to leave him behind. His mom, who he had practically been forced to make leave, who he had cut all connection with until his bastard father’s death so they couldn’t be find through him. Asahi’s mom, who had come back for him when his bastard father was dead in the ground.

Asahi’s mom, who had taken the sacrifice he had given most of his life for, and thrown it away.

…Okaa-san threw my sister away.

The boy’s grip on his phone tightened.

…

He... he remembered something.

That had been his same thought when she had told him, in his last life, that she was--

“-orry, Asahi, I’m so sorry-- I-- Everything is-- She’s gone and I--”

How… could I forget…?

That moment, the first time he had really, truly wanted nothing more than to die.

“You… you threw her away?”

His okaa-san had betrayed him. 

The only adult, the only person in the world Asahi could trust other than himself… had been nothing more than a liar, just like the rest. Worse, even-- because others, at the very least, didn’t bother to keep his hope alive for half a decade, dangling it just beyond the finish line like fish-bait, before killing it, just as the end of the tunnel was in sight.

Asahi had looked away from his mom, then, eyes catching the glint of a kitchen knife on the nearby counter. It could end the pain, it’s metal seemed to sing. Just grab hold. Take and stab and twist. 

All it would have costed was a bit of blood, for a lot of pain. And then--

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ll go save her.”

He had blocked it off. 

Hid it, swept it under the rugs, drowned it in the dark oblivion of his mind, anything so he didn’t have to think about how he was

Alone. Alone alone alonealonealone. No sister. No mama. Nothing. Nowhere to go, no one to trust, no idea where to start his search. Nothing but alone alone alonealonealONEALONEALONE

Why, okaa-san? Why why why?

…Did I do something wrong?

Asahi had given his mom a confident smile that had been more fragile than a fixed teapot. “I’ll bring her back," he had said, because it had made more sense for Shio to have been taken away than for mom to have just left her. His mom would have never done that. She wouldn’t.

She couldn’t.

(Okaa-san couldn’t have because that would mean that she had thrown his sister away, the only bright thing left in his life, that the years he spent with dad had been spent for nothing, that the only person in the whole wide world he could trust unconditionally had--)

He had disappeared the next day, taking the first bus he could into the city. He had blocked his mom’s phone. He had gone alone, looking for his sister.

(he had found her.)

(but she hadn’t wanted to come back.)

All it had ended with was fire and death and the realization that nothing had changed, and he was still alo--

“Asahi!”

There were hands on his shoulders shaking him. 

And then Shouko’s worried (worried? Why was she worried?) face focused from the blurred thing it had been a moment ago, and the violet-haired boy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. And then breathed in a lungful of air, trying to not let his exhale becoming the strangled whimper he knew it wanted to be. “Thanks,” he whispered hoarsely, unsure of how long he’d been trapped in his

(Thoughts? Memories? Nightmares?)

But, those didn’t matter, now. He was in reality, no matter how much he despised it (except Shouko, never Shouko), and the ringing phone in his hands was very much real.

And so to, undoubtedly, was the voice waiting on the other side.

Tap, went his finger. Click, went the ringtone.

“...Asahi, dear?” whispered the voice on the other side.

“Okaa-san,” went his reply.

(Why was his voice so empty? Why couldn’t he feel anything?)

He could hear the words she was send back to him, as well as the hushed conversation his mom was having on the other end (with Mr. Sam, the boy noted). He could understand the words being asked, and he gave noncommittal answers back.

(Yet, he couldn’t make anything out. It was all static.

Until it wasn’t.)

“--Yoki will come and get you, alright?" came his okaa-san's words. "He needs to know where you are, but once he does, he’ll bring you home, alright? Trust me, he--”

Something in him froze.

Trust me, okaa-san said. Trust me.

Crack, went the dam in his mind, and the floodgates opened.

“...You want me to trust you? A-again?”

Asahi’s hand, Shouko noted, was shaking again.

Had been shaking for a while, in fact, ever since he had seen the incoming call. She’d seen what screen had said. Okaa-san.

Mom.

Asahi had never really talked about his mom, in their shared past life.

I didn’t ask, though, did I? There were a lot of things I never asked. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Every time she looked back, the girl had to fight the urge to cringe. There was so much more she could have done for him, but she hadn’t! She’d been content to do the minimum, and nothing more.

Just like now, watching Asahi tense up more and more as the call went on.

And then, over the line, something was said, something Shouko barely heard-- but something Asahi obviously had.

And Asahi, for lack of better words, exploded and crumbled at the same time.

“I DID TRUST YOU!” the boy screamed, and Shouko flinched back at the sheer vitriol and hate and hurt in his voice. “I T-TRUSTED YOU TO KEEP HER SAFE AND YOU-- Y-YOU THREW HER AWAY!”

At some point, Asahi must’ve hit the speaker key, Shouko realized, when the voice on the other end of the line came through, crisp and clear.

“A-Asahi,” I--”

Asahi did not stop.

“AND-- AND NOW SHE’S MISSING A-AND IN DANGER AND I’M NOT E-EVEN SURE I CAN GET HER BACK, IF SHE EVEN WANTS TO COME BACK, IF ITS EVEN WORTH IT TO TRY!” He swiped angrily at his eyes, which did little to stop the tears. Shouko wanted to help him, to do something, but she couldn’t move. “AND IT’S BECAUSE YOU-- Y-YOU TOSSED HER INTO AN ALLY LIKE IT WAS NOTHING! YOU LEFT ME BEHIND FOR NOTHING! LIKE THE YEARS I SPENT WITH HIM DIDN’T--”

Asahi’s breath hitched, almost as if choking,  words seemingly caught in the back of his throat, for a moment, before forcing themselves out.

Only, instead of angry words, a strangled, broken noise emerged instead, and Shouko’s heart shattered into pieces.

“...L-like they d-didn’t-- didn’t m-mean anything… Like I didn't--”

And then Asahi started crying.

“I t-trusted you, okaa-san,” he whimpered. “I did. Why did you throw her away? What did I do wrong?”

Silence.

The woman on the other side of the phone didn’t respond, and Shouko, the coward that she was, didn’t move to break the silence, filled only with the sniffles and Asahi’s muffled cries.

He sounded broken, and all Shouko wanted to do was reach out and fix him.

(But she couldn’t, because she was just as broken at him.

But she didn’t, because Asahi deserved someone better than her. Someone who wouldn’t hurt him at every turn, someone who could actually do something to help him instead of being content with doing the absolute least.

There had been something you could’ve done, the numbness cooed, sickeningly sweet. If you’d saved his sister back then, if you hadn’t been the biggest fucking idiot this side of the world, he would’ve been happy.

This is your fault. )

Whatever mood had been building up was gone, and Shouko felt a pang in her heart. Something good had been about to happen, but now it wouldn’t.

It’s alright, the numbness whispered. You didn’t deserve it anyways.

Shouko wondered if it was bad thing that she agreed.

Shouko wanted to cry.

…No, she decided suddenly. No self-pity. I don’t deserve it. I… I need to be strong. For him.  

Even to her numbed person, Shouko could see that Asahi desperately needed someone. 

The only other person in the room was her. So, it had to be her.

(a small, hidden part of her heart reveled in that information, that it was her that was going to help asahi, and shouko threw it back into the abyss it came from.)

The violet-haired boy was staring at her wall, now, eyes glazed, and breathing muted, interrupted by sniffles and whimpers. Half asleep, she realized, and she would have called it cute had it been other brighter, happier circumstances. Better days.

(Ones she’d never see. They would be for someone else, someone Asahi would love. Not her. Never her.

Shouko didn’t deserve it.

But she still had to try.

For him.)

Reaching over and cupping his hand in hers, Shouko gently pried Asahi’s phone from him, and took a moment to glance at the number on the phone. And then, out of a protective instinct uncoiling itself from within her, Shouko brought the phone up to her lips.

“Don’t call again, please,” she said, before cutting the line off with a tap of a very numb finger. Shouko did not care that the person on the other end was Asahi’s mother.

She had hurt him.

Asahi didn’t deserve to get hurt anymore.

(Shouko had already hurt him enough, hadn’t she?)

The raven-haired girl placed the phone on the table to the bed’s side.

Then she turned, look at Asahi, and the selfish part of her took over and pulled him into her embrace. Just for a moment, she lied to herself. This is for him.

It was warm.

…

And then Asahi started shaking again.

Stupid stupid stupid the numbness laughed, and the girl jerked her arms away, mortified. He obviously doesn’t want to touch your filthy--

Two hands brought her berating to a screeching halt.

The boy pulled her back. 

“P-please stay. Don’t go.”

He didn’t look at her, kept his head in the crook of her neck, as she did the same. He was still shaking, she noted, but he… he didn’t let go. He wanted her to stay.

She didn’t deserve it.

(But she wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it.)

And Asahi wanted it too.

And he deserved everything.

So, going against the truth she knew was her filthy unworthiness, she nodded into him.

“Okay,” she murmured back, and complied.

(There was a whispered "thank you" back.)

The two held each other like that for a long time afterwards.

Chapter Text

Hida Fukasawa did not enjoy feeling uncertain, yet uncertainty was all she seemed to feel, these days.

Her marriage was fraying, that much she could tell, despite the fact that both she and her husband had not truly wished it so. Her parents had finally passed away a year prior, leaving her with an ache in her heart. Her brothers grew ever-distant, their lives oversees so far removed from hers.

But, all of those things had been expected, save the first. Though her mariage frayed, it was amicable enough most days. Her parents were gone, yes, but Fukasawa had seen them in their last hours. Her siblings were far away, but they visited her once every two years, and she them, much the same. 

As far as she had been concerned, life had simply been.

And then her daughter, her precious little girl, her only child-- had nearly died in their own home.

It ate at her, that day, where only the fact that Shouko had rolled off her bed loud enough to be heard had been the reason they had managed to get her help in time. Scenario after scenario dogged her sleep, nightmares of her baby weeping and writhing and dying in her bed, unable to shout or scream for help.

But, Shouko had recovered. She had gotten better, well enough to be released the same day, barely worse for wear. For about a day, Fukasawa had hoped that, perhaps, that horrid day could be left behind.

(it hadn’t.)

She hadn’t seen her daughter smile in days.

Shouko had grown distant, separated, tired. She went to school, came back home, and that was it. Every phone call she had made had all answered the same thing, in turn-- the bare minimums met, self-isolation, barely eating during breaks.

And there was nothing she could do. Shouko… didn’t talk to her, anymore, or to her husband. 

The one good thing to come of it, she supposed, was how it had brought her and Heishi closer together. A unified front, he had proposed. Together, they could help their little girl.

Then the boy had shown up.

Few people expect to see strangers in their own homes, especially at that time. Maybe that was why she had not immediately called out for her husband, when she had seen the boy. Asahi, her daughter had introduced.

Oh, Fukasawa had been wary. Wary of this child, who had seemingly emerged from Shouko’s room. This boy who she did not know, this boy whom she had never met.

But, the way he had responded to her veiled threat, the way he had so vehemently recoiled at the insinuation that he hard harmed Shouko…

“Never!”

Call it a mother’s intuition, maybe, but Fukasawa had know, instantly, that his single-worded response was true. 

And it was for that reason alone that she had not gone charging after the two of them when the boy had lurched away from the table, pale and shaking. It was the only reason she had halted her husband from rushing up the stairs to Shouko’s room, when the walls failed to muffle their shouts and cries.

“Why?” Heishi has asked, and she’d had to ponder for a moment, before ethe words found her.

“I…” she whispered. “I don’t think she wants us up there.”

It hurt to say. The words clawed at her heart, gnawed at her soul. The idea that her baby didn’t want their help wounded her beyond any words that she could possibly use.

But, Shouko cared for that boy, cared for him enough that she brought him home, that she chased after him and pulled him back. Around that boy, she had spoken more words in Fukasawa’s presence in an hour than she had in the last three days.

Koube Asahi was who her daughter wished to confide in. Hida Fukasawa… was not.

The realisation stung bitterly.

Yet, even so…

All Fukasawa wanted for Shouko was the best. And if her baby girl wanted space, to recover from that horrid ordeal… then…

She could do that. For Shouko.

No matter how much it hurt her to do so.

Chapter Text

“...We need a plan.”

Shouko’s quiet voice finally broke the silence, and she hated herself for it. 

Well, hated herself more for it, at least. She had already destested herself, the numbness whispering all her faults over and over in her ears far too often for her to forget. Only in the silence, with Asahi, awake or asleep, did she find some measure of…

Nothingness?

Maybe that was what she needed. Nothingness. Oblivion.

(Maybe she should’ve stayed dead.)

But, if she was dead, she couldn’t make it up to Asahi like she wanted to, like she needed to. So, no. Not that. Not now, anyways.

When everything was all over, then, maybe--

Asahi’s hand, the one she was holding, squeezed her gently in question. A flush of much-needed warmth flooded her, and her mind cleared enough for Shouko to take her morose thoughts and throw them into the abyss. They would come back-- they always did, since she had woken up alive again. But, at least for now…

Focus on the here, focus on the now. Focus on him. Helping him. 

Holding him.

She took a moment to, once again, emblazon the boy’s features in her memory.

They were both back on the bed, laying down, all-but back under the covers. From her view, the world was slanted, and made up mostly of him. It was a good view, despite how Asahi himself looked. He was still a bit pale, from the panic-attack that had overtaken him earlier, and the call that had only made things worse. Asahi’s eyes were puffy, and red, from his sobs. 

He looked so tired.

Shouko imagined she looked the same. She certainly felt exhausted, more tired than she’d ever been in her last life. But, she pushed her exhaustion down, and brought herself back into the moment. She had broken the silence, and she would make that sacrifice well worth it.

“A… plan?” 

The violet-haired boy’s question was one of confusion, murmured by a still-raspy voice, and Shouko nodded. “Mmhm. Did… did you have one already? I-- sorry, I didn’t think--”

“No, no,” Asahi shook his head, “it’s fine. I… it was nothing concrete. I was just… going to wait until it was nighttime. Break in. Rescue Shio. I hadn’t meant to…”

Call. 

Logically, Shouko knew there hadn’t really been a good reason to call her, in the first place. Setting asides the fact that it was a miracle he had managed to remember her number, as far as Asahi had known at the time, he was the only one who remembered what was supposed to happen in the future. Logically, she knew this.

Yet, the numbness used the lull to worm its way back into her heart, and began to whisper again. Why should he have called? She was useless anyways, both in this life and the last. Why would he want her help? Why would he want to see her, after everything? Why would--

(Mope later, Shouko. Help Asahi first.)

“It’s alright,” she replied, hoping her voice did not sound as wobbly to him as it had to her. “I-- I’m sorry I threw your plans off.”

The boy shook his head instantly. “I didn’t have much of a plan to begin with,” he stammered quietly. “It’s alright.”

Asahi opened his mouth to say something else, but Shouko forged ahead. The sooner they finished planning, the sooner they could go to sleep, and leave the day’s events behind them for the blissful oblivion that was sleep.

“Maybe…” she pondered, “maybe…”

An idea formed in her head. One that made sense, one that would be able to keep Asai out of harm’s way until absolutely necessary. It was so simple, too. 

Maybe, had they done this their first time around, neither of them would be here. Maybe, had she extended a helping hand to that lonely boy sleeping outside, if she had been less trusting of her once-best friend, maybe, maybe, maybe--

Shouko took a calming breath. It helped a little, but not as much as she had hoped, futile as she had known it to be.

“I think she had a spare key, somewhere,” Shouko finished quietly. It went without saying who that she was, and Asahi blanched. She pressed on before he could speak, desperate to at least get it all out before what little strength she could muster failed her--

Just like last time.

“And if she does have a key,” she went on, “I just need to take it. Then we can go get your sister. We’ll be in and out so quick that nobody will see us, and she’ll never know it was us.”

Breaking in meant making noise. Noise meant alerting the neighbours. One of those neighbours was her aunt. Shouko hadn’t seen much of the woman, in her first life, but…

Her eyes…

They looked liked--

The gentle creak of the bed and Asahi shifted pulled her out of her memories.“But--” he started, “wouldn’t that mean you’d have to spend time with her ?”

“It’s the easiest way to do it, I think,” she replied, voice confident in a way she did not even come close to feeling. “This way, if you get caught, it won’t look like you’re breaking in. Or kidnapping someone. Or maybe we could call the--”

“No!”

Asahi cut her off mid-sentence, looking almost… scared? 

Why is he…

“No?” she asked, a genuine curiosity in her voice, and he nodded reluctantly.

“Can’t… trust them,” he muttered, “Cops. Adults. They don’t care. They didn’t before, they won’t now. Nobody does."

I do, she cried out silently. Don’t you remember the kiss?

Or, maybe he just… didn’t. Neither of them had brought it up, yet. And, even if he did remember it, why would it a memory he cherished? It had been nothing but a selfish whim on her part, a gift that had fallen on an underserving girl.

Asahi deserved better than her.

Painfully, she set the memory aside. It… wasn’t important, not right now.

(She… she didn’t think it ever would be.)

(And that was fine. She didn’t deserve it to be, anyways.)

Shouko nodded. "Then I'll grab Satou's keys," she declared, hoping her voice did not sound shakey. Asahi, tough, shot up from where he'd been laying, eyes wide.

“You can't!" he protested. "She could hurt you!”

“She already killed me," she retorted without filter. "What else can she do to me?”

Asahi flinched, then shrunk back, wiping at his eyes. Shouko’s heart fell, again.

We… keep doing this.

It was a pattern she had tried to ignore, but one they kept circling back to. She didn’t like arguing with him! Especially when nothing he was saying was stuff she disagreed with! 

Shouko didn’t want to go back to school, to have to deal with the inevitable mountain of questions from her peers about her mannerisms. DIdn’t want to keeping having to beat back the numbness with Asahi close by to help. She didn’t want to wear the mask of lies she had worn at school since she had woken up again.

Shouko didn’t want to see her.

That, more than anything, scared her. Even thinking about Satou--

She pushed back the urge to vomit. Pink, her mind supplied. Pink, pink, viscous pink, pink on your fingers, pink on the walls, pink on your throat, pink in your lungs--

The sound of someone shuffling closer, and a warm shoulder on hers, snaps Shouko out of her spiral. Asahi was looking at her, concerned.

“‘M sorry,” he muttered. “I just… don’t want her to do anything to you. I don’t think I could-- if she did what she did again--”

“I’ll be fine,” Shouko tried to reassure. She felt none of that assurance herself, only a mounting dread. “I can do this.”

I don’t want to go back.

But. she would. For him. 

The violet-haired boy stared at her for a moment, several emotions she could not name flickering in his eyes, before he sifted his gaze away. “Okay,” Asahi nodded; quiet, resigned. “I trust you. But don’t do anything that hurts y--”

“You… trust me?”

Her hands shot to her mouth, mortified. She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to speak her doubts out loud! But--

He trusts me?

Asahi stared at her as if the answer was the most common thing in the universe. 

“You’re the only person in the world I trust,” he replied simply.

…

All Shouko could do for a moment was stare back, almost unable to comprehend his words.

He trusts me? He really--

Something warm lit in the core of her heart.

Then her stomach growled, and his stomach growled, and both their faces burned red with embarrassment, thoughts of trust temporarily forgotten. “...Sorry,” she whispered, just as Asahi did the exact same. Shouko giggle quietly. He sounds so cute when he’s sheepish.

She closed her eyes for a moment to gather strength again, she opened them, turned to Asahi, and asked him a question. Sitting so close to him (again), she’d become hyper-aware of all his features; the faded scar on his cheek, his vibrant eyes… and how thin he was. 

When was the last time he had eaten anything?

Not soon enough, she wagered. And, that asides, there was still breakfast waiting downstairs. So, Shouko asked her question.

“If I leave to go grab food,” she hesitated, “will you be here, when I get back?” 

“If you want me to,” Asahi replied quietly. “I can go if you--”

She blockaded his attempts to rise by gently pulling him down by the shoulders. “Please stay,” she whispered. I don’t know what I’d do if you left.

It only that she wanted, needed, to help him, to atone for her past life. It was just because she loved him with every fibre in her body and the thought of watching him walk away again tore her in two. 

It was because he understood.

Asai was living proof that she wasn’t alone. He was someone she could confide in freely. He had lived that first life too! Anyone else would just think she was crazy, delusional, after a near-death experience, but Asahi?

"I trust you."

Shouko bit back the urge to cry again. Food first, then sleep.

Reluctantly parting with Asahi’s warmth for the second time that day, Shouko hopped off the bed and took a step towards the door. Then she stopped, turned back, and met Asahi’s gaze.

“You’re the only person in the world that I trust, too,” she told him. 

And then, unable to meet his gaze any longer, she opened the door and left.

Chapter Text

It was not the first time Asahi had watched someone he cared for dearly leave him to an uncertain future.

Growing up, he’d had very, very few people in his life. His mother, his sister, the man who sired them, and the few people he’d had to speak to whilst running errands for that bastard. Of those people, there had only two he had truly longed to be with. 

(...Back then, at least.)

Sometimes, when passing them by, Asahi had stared longingly at the schools and parks he wandered by, wondering if, had he been amongst the children learning and playing, life wouldn’t have felt so lonely.

But, that hadn’t been his lot in life. His was a cold home with a demon waiting inside, and himself standing between said demon and the only two people in the world he could truly say he loved, and who loved him in turn.

At least, so he’d thought.

Now, that number had dwindled from it’s measly two to a hollow none. His mom had… she’d broken her promise in the worst way possible, and Asahi wasn’t sure if that was something he would ever be able to forgive. If he was even capable of forgiving that. And Shio…

(The boy wasn’t sure when he’d come to the realisation… but, he didn’t truly know who his sister was, did he?)

Shio barely recognized him,

How old had she been when their mother had finally managed to spirit her away? How long had they been gone, with little more than the occasional phonecall to bridge the gap? Asahi couldn’t pretend to be an expert in thow kids thought, or remembered things from so early on, but…

Rationally thinking, it was miracle that his sister had even remembered the vow in the first place.

That… stupid vow…

Maybe it was better left forgotten.

But, while Asahi would have loved to do little more than forget what it was that had brought him to a home he did not deserve to be in, forgetting was the opposite of what he needed to do. Shouko had gone downstairs to get them food, so they could plan to make something of their second chances. A second chance that she deserved, more than anyone.

Asahi wished he could spend all of it with her. If he could love her, and let her love him.

But, Shouko didn’t love him, couldn’t love him. That was easy enough for him to discern, even without factoring the fact that she deserved better. After everything he had done to her? 

Asahi would have hated someone for less. 

He was someone who stole other people’s happiness just by being . His mom, his sister, Shouko . He’d taken and taken and taken from her until she’d given everything there was she had to give, and she died for it. 

And now, he was doing it again. Doing what he always did. Stealing happiness from others, solely for the chance of finding his own.

A thief.

The thought, the realisation, of what he was deep down, nestled itself in his heart as if it had always been meant to be there.

(Asahi took a moment to make sure Shouko was still downstairs.

And, far from the first time that day, let himself cry.)

It was only when she reached the bottom of the stairs, that Shouko realized that her parents had not at all moved from the dining table, and the girl froze.

She hadn’t had a proper conversation with either of them for nearly a week, now. Maybe it a bit longer, now that she thought on it. And, if she counted those final, strange days in her past life…

Shouko was not blind, no matter how she sometimes wished to be. Shouko was no deaf either, no matter how many times she had tried to be.. She heard the arguments from their shared room, their screams and shouts on the worst days. Had seen them retreat to separate guest rooms more than enough to say that said rooms were more well-lived than the guest one. The day she had realized what that meant, all that time ago, had not been a good day for her.

And, just then, a new realisation came to her. No, not a new one – an old one, refurbished, placed once more on display.

Shouko wasn’t sure if she could trust them.

(Maybe it was the numbness. Maybe it was the way Asahi had seemed to cringe under her parents’ gaze. Or, maybe, it was just the culmination of everything that had happened beforehand.

Yet, the fact remained. She didn’t trust them.

Shouko wished she felt sorrow, for it.)

“Shouko, dear,” her mother reached out. Instinctively, Shouko jerked away. Pink-stained hands reaching for her throat–

At that, her mother flinched, a pained expressions clouding her face as she retracted her, and guilt immediately replaced fear. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Mom, I–”

“I know,” her mother replied. “We know. Your father and I… we haven’t been… It’s not…” Evidently struggling for words, Shouko’s mother turned to her husband, who sighed morosely.

“Just remember,” her father told her, “we’re here for you. No matter what you’re going through.”

Her mother nodded, before a sad smile graced her lips. “We love you, darling. Don’t ever forget that. Nothing can change that.”

I’ve lived this life before, she told them silently. I fooled around with boys from school. I found a prince sleeping outside. A terrible thing happened to a coworker. Someone I thought was my best friend abducted a child. Something wearing my best friend’s skin murdered me. I can’t be with the boy I love because he deserves better. I barely feel like I exist, sometimes.

I’m not even sure I’m your daughter, anymore.

...Was she? 

Shouko had died. That was the intrinsic truth that formed the core of her new life. Her heartbeat had fallen silent, her blood had drained, her soul had departed for a place she could only assume was the coldest circle of hell.

But, she was alive, again. So was Asahi. But, Asahi was bright and pure and good – him being here, getting a second chance? That made sense. He had something to fight for, a goal to strive for.

Her, though?

Maybe she wasn’t really alive. Maybe that’s why she was so cold inside, so broken.

Maybe the reason for the feelings of emptiness insider her were because she was empty. Because there was a gap in her chest for where her soul should be. Because Hida Shouko was dead and gone, and all that was left was an imposter. A husk.

A thief.

The thought, the realisation, nestled itself in her heart as if it had always been meant to be there.

Shouko wanted to cry.

All she said instead, was, “I know.” 

Then she grabbed the food, both her plate and Asahi’s, before retreating back upstairs. There, at least, her tears could fall without reproach. 

Her tears would be safe, in her room. And, she knew, with him.

They ate sitting on the bed.

Had Shouko been in any state to find humour in their situation, she might’ve found it funny how eagerly she was to share her bed, her actual bed, with a boy. Before, she had kept all of those… interactions outside her home, unwilling to bring what little slices of forgetfulness she could claim back to the place that caused her to seek it.

Asahi was different.

Maybe, had things been better, had she actually felt like she was anywhere near deserving enough to even ask, she might have asked to ‘forget’ with him, as well.

(But, that was for the Shouko who deserved that. That was for the Shouko who had been murdered by someone once thought to be a friend for trying to help another. The Shouko who’s second life she’d taken.)

The silence persisted. It was tense, frayed, filled only with nervous gazes and the sound of chewing.

Throughout it all, though, Asahi sat shoulder-to-shoulder with her, and his touch grounded her from her thoughts. His eyes had been red, when she’d come back, and his cheeks wet, but he hadn’t acknowledged the tears. Shouko had done the same.

It was only fair. He hadn’t mentioned her tear-stricken face, either. That was what she told herself.

The numbness, the truth in her, said something else.

A coward, through and through, the numbness sang, and the girl could not bring herself to refute it. It was almost funny – a cowardly thief, huh? Who knew there was such a thing?

The numbness reared its head again, and Shouko braced herself again for a truth she could not bear to hear. Only, the brief touch of a hand on her shoulder drew her thoughts away from her mind, and to the boy besides her.

It was only when she turned her full attention to him, however, that she realized that it had not been an errant touch by accident, but one to get her attention. “Asahi?” she asked.

Only silence answered her for a moment, a stained one, though Shouko had no idea why , and for a moment she found herself frightened of what he would say. Then boy took a breath, as if steadying himself, before his shoulders sagged. “...You’re right.”

Shouko blinked. “I… about what?”

“About… about needing to think about this. To plan.” Asahi grimaced, averting his eyes. He made to move his hands away as well, only for Shouko to gently grasp them, and he stopped. Another fortifying breath. “I don’t like this. I feel horrible for having you help me, I–! You’ve done so much for me, and I’ve only…”

His hands trembled in hers, and Shouko founder herself squeezed them gently. Warmly too, she hoped, as much as she felt herself incapable of feeling warmth naturally anymore, let alone giving it.

But, her words were as true as the feelings she could muster past the numbness.

“I’m helping because I want to,” she murmured. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Shio isn’t safe where she is. You want to save her, and I want to help you do that. I-isn’t that what friends are for?”

Something odd flashed across his face, and for a scant moment, averting her gaze, Shouko thought she had ruined the moment again. Then, chancing another look at the boy, recognition came to her.

It was surprise, on his face, Surprise and something else, something tender. And, his surprise was accompanied by a realization of her own.

Have… have I never called him my friend out loud, before?

“I don’t…” he sniffed. “Nobody’s ever actually called themselves my friend, before. Just you. I… I’m glad. That it’s you. My first friend.”

Asahi smiled. It was a tentative thing, as fragile as it was precious, she thought. And she found herself returning the smile with one of her own, just as tentative… but true. 

Not even the numbness could rob her voice of its warmth, when she replied.

“...I’m happy to be your first, Asahi.”

The two spent the rest of the day plotting.