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It is often said that the most patient people make the best listeners. This is not wrong.
Shizuma has always been a listener. Most people spend their time waiting for others to finish talking, and in the meantime thinking of what to say next. He instead turns his attention towards the person who speaks, turning each word over in his mind, clear grey eyes watching them and taking in every little gesture they make. It's easier to understand, he says, when you immerse yourself in someone else's perspective.
It's even easier to understand when you can feel their emotions just by proximity. Some telepaths go mad with the experience, others keep it secret for fear of persecution and ridicule. For him, he shared the secret with the person he trusted the most.
People always comment on how close they are. Sometimes they joke that Shizuma seems to be Reiji's butler, and both of them don't quite object. A few of them even ask him why he was content to just support and not pursue any ambitions of his own.
To this, he just smiles faintly, and tells them that Reiji's ambition is strong enough for them both. As long as Reiji is happy, he can share in that happiness, because they are linked by something that cannot be explained.
----
He doesn't quite know exactly when it began.
It's difficult to place a finger on an exact point for a process that only ever manifested as gently shaded gradients. At first, he just thinks that perhaps he is getting better at understanding others. When Reiji was happy, he could tell - even if the other tried to conceal it, there is always a certain bright gleam in his violet eyes that told Shizuma his true feelings.
"You don't have to hide it from me, you know."
Reiji pouts, folding his arms in a bid to maximise the intimidation that his ten-year-old frame could put out. "I-it's not like I'm happy about both of you getting to come along! Don't say that."
Shizuma can't quite tell why, but he is sure of the contrary.
"Your dad is very nice, you know. Did you thank him?"
It isn't easy to afford a chartered trip to Kyoto, and his family definitely couldn't fork out enough to send both Shizuma and Asuma along. The younger could not be left unattended without the elder, and the elder would not go without the younger out of possible unfairness towards a sibling he cared very much for. Naturally, Reiji's parents stepped in.
"How did you know?"
"I just had a feeling."
It's an answer that surprises even himself, but it is the truth. Something inside him suggested the possibility.
"You're so strange, Shizuma-kun."
Reiji smiles anyway, and he feels the soft golden warmth of innocent happiness that isn't quite his. But he takes it anyway, because it is a very nice feeling, especially for an eleven-year-old.
(He decides a few days later that this is a feeling he wants to protect.)
----
He finally decides to make a full mention of it the day after Reiji doesn't ace his first test. Even if the other manages a perfect replica of his usual cheerful self, Shizuma can feel the black mist that clings to him like a persistent shadow. A mist that no one else seems to see.
That day after school, when one of the maids drive both of them home, he asks Reiji to talk to him in his room.
"What's this big secret you were talking about?" Reiji sits on the edge of his bed, schoolbag left leaning against the wall much like an afterthought. "You don't usually do this sort of thing, so it better be a good surprise!"
Shizuma nods, unconsciously reaching up to adjust his hair before continuing. His best friend is still outwardly cheerful, but he can sense the hollowness behind that cheer.
"... you don't have to keep it from me, you know."
"Keep what?" Still bright, and in denial. "What did I do?"
"You're sad. I-it's hard to explain... I just know, you know? Like... I can tell. Here." He puts a hand to his chest, over his heart. "And - I don't want you to be sad. So... you can talk to me. I won't judge."
Shizuma hears a voice inside his head, for the first time. It's Reiji's voice.
I thought I hid it so well... if he tells Mother, I'll be in big trouble.
"I won't tell your mom. Well, not if you don't want me to... you have to own up to it sooner or latter, but - I'll keep your back this time."
Reiji's expression freezes for a moment, uncertainty crossing his features, before his violet eyes rapidly darken.
"How did you know?" It comes out much louder than he intends, and he visibly backs away a little, as if to guard himself. "Did you just -"- read my mind?
Yes. Shizuma replies, or at least tries to reply - making himself as calm as possible, a wavebreak to counter Reiji's uneasy surf. I know how you feel. You don't have to keep it all to yourself.
The other doesn't speak, but he doesn't need words. Reiji's expression slowly settles, and his panic with it. The gloom around him lifts, if only a little.
"... okay. But, only with you! You need to keep it a secret, or I'll get mad." And only because I trust you.
Shizuma smiles and nods. When Reiji starts talking again, he just listens.
(And he always listens, because he did not need to speak to make his point.)
----
Time passes. The seasons go by one after another, and through it all they are still together.
Shizuma's report book almost always contains comments on how level-headed he is, especially for a teenager. Of course, it might be a given, since he is a year older than all the other students in his class - but he thinks it comes naturally. It is difficult to be rowdy when there is someone who already accomplishes the task twenty four-seven, after all.
Reiji's presence gets hard to ignore, but he doesn't want to ignore him. Not only is it rude to close the door metaphorically in his best friend's face, he finds the other's thought processes fascinating to watch. Even if Reiji keeps the same relaxed cheer all the time, his mindscape is awash with colours and vivid emotions - a carousel that somehow intersected itself with Shizuma's own placid existence. Sometimes Reiji complains about having his privacy invaded, but he never gets angry for long. Shizuma knows Reiji trusts him with his thoughts.
Sometimes his best friend jokes about how funny it would be if somehow they eventually melded together, and Shizuma just nods along. He is content to just sit and watch. After all, someone needs to keep Reiji safe from his own impulses.
----
It's not all that difficult for a prank to turn into something more.
It starts off innocuously, like everything else. The stereotypical 'weighted object on top of doorway' joke, except instead of a water bucket and an actual door there is a bookshelf and several twelve-year-olds who thought it funny to play something jokingly mean on the richest boy in their class.
Reiji almost falls for it. Almost, because twelve-year-olds do not exactly have the best sense of where a shelf's centre of gravity is, and also because a single panicked strike from a startled child can rapidly cascade domino-like to bring the full structure down.
There is the sound of of thunder.
Shizuma's first instinct is to run, to cover the few metres of distance between him and a stunned Reiji whose surprise had just began transmitting into his headspace. The pain makes him close his eyes, resounding inside his head like a sledgehammer. Everything goes black for a few moments, before he is awoken by a rush of adrenaline-fueled panic that isn't his.
When he opens his eyes, he finds that he cannot feel his lower body anymore.
----
The air in the corridors smell of antiseptic. It's a very hospital smell, with some sort of floral perfume forcibly slapped over chlorine to make the smell more palatable.
He is seated in a wheelchair, still disoriented, nerves tingling in his hands to replace the lost sensation in his legs. He vaguely remembers the hurried voices of his parents, the doctor replying in markedly contrasted calm; the rest of his memory blotted out by uncertainty and regret that are not his own. Reiji hovers over him this time, an ironic inversion of their usual roles, and for the first time he doesn't make the effort to smile.
They said that there would be a reasonable chance that he could recover. His mother wanted some form of justice, but he knows she is just trying to direct her grief somewhere else. He tells her that he just needs time, that he can still attend school, that he would be fine.
When they return, it is Reiji who pushes him into the estate. For the first time, even their mental link is quiet - the usual bursts of colour are muted, diluted into black and white by force of will and force of circumstance.
They do not talk. Shizuma's resentment and Reiji's guilt served enough for conversation.
(But he doesn't stay angry. He cannot stay angry for long, not when he can feel every single pang of regret from his best friend.)
----
If you cannot run, then I will run your part in your place.
Reiji told him this the week after they started talking again. So Shizuma watches him take flight on the tracks, the wind streaming through his violet hair, before he takes the tablet placed upon his lap and turns on the headset intercom.
If you run my part in my place, then I will ensure you do it better than anyone else.
----
Some things, like telepathy and miracles, just cannot be explained. But the fact that they cannot be explained are no grounds for dismissing them entirely.
When he finally walks to the gymnasium door and opens it, Reiji doesn't notice at first. Shizuma is content to wait, basking in the bright light of determination that had rose from the monochrome ashes of the year before, watching its source trace curves around the track much like a shooting star.
Reiji cries for the first time in years, violet eyes shimmering with sheer relief and happiness. It's a subdued kind of happiness, faded and blue, one that was quiet in its presence instead of exuberant.
This is something they both share.
----
Time passes. They enter highschool, which is not that different from middle school, save for one thing.
When Reiji unfolds the recruitment letter in front of him, he does not expect it to carry more than one name, but it does. Each time he changes into the glittering black uniforms of Galaxy Standard, he is reminded of how Reiji always makes sure no one is left behind.
----
It is not easy to ignore the signs that Reiji is blatantly in love.
For the first time, Shizuma thinks he can't understand why. Reiji is someone destined for greatness, the type of genius that is born once every ten years. Someone almost superhuman in capability should not be distracted by something as frivolous as mere romance. But it happens anyway. Some things, like love, just cannot be explained.
What can be explained, though, is how Reiji's body is failing. It is not easy to ignore the signs that the other is pushing himself - after all, he rarely sleeps before one in the morning, and always gets up at five to get to school early. The vivid swirl of emotion that once brightened Shizuma's day has been dulled by a subtle but steady undercurrent of fatigued pain.
Reiji still smiles. He has to, for the sake of his family, his team, and his responsibilities.
When Nana comes to speak to the both of them for the tenth time, Shizuma decides that he has to draw the line. The more she appears in Reiji's life, the more risky it is to hide these encounters. If even a whiff of it gets out, he knows that everything will come crashing down.
"... Sakurai-san. Have you not realized yet?"
Reiji's expression freezes for a moment, uncertainty crossing his features, before his violet eyes rapidly darken. But it is too late.
"My most apologies, Reiji-sama. But - I need to protect you now. "
Shizuma makes her promise to stop meeting him, even if he knows he cannot stop Reiji from meeting her.
("I will be honest with you, Sakurai-san. Once he sets his mind on something, even I cannot stop him.")
----
The wind at Smileland is firm but gentle, a sea breeze pouring in through the east.
The starting horn sounds. Saisei keeps the lead all the way until the last runners go off.
It's a little surreal, isn't it? We've come all this way. From when we were just little kids, we've always been together, and Stride is no exception. It brought us closer together, even.
Reiji's voice is strong and clear from across the amusement park, and he does not need the intercom to hear it.
It is. To think that all we have done before is for preparation of this. And I know you will win.
Reiji smiles. He can see that smile now, eyes burning with determination that grows and grows as the other tears down the streets, a violet fire that consumes everything else in Shizuma's mindscape; even the pain that comes with desperation and above all a desire to win.
A split second before he crosses the finish line, Reiji knows he has lost.
----
That night, Reiji doesn't go back to the hotel. Shizuma tracks him down, because after all, he knows Reiji best.
They stand in silence.
"I already know what you're going to say. I'll hit you when you say it."
"... ahahah. Hitting an idol's face... you're being a bit cruel." He's still joking around, even as the night deepens, and his heart with it.
"Even if you're an idol, you're Reiji to me first and foremost. Especially tonight."
He waits until Reiji says everything he has to say, even if he already knows those words before they are spoken. The guilt that the other feels is not much different from what transpired several summers ago - the guilt of not only failing his own expectations, but failing the dreams he had embodied and woven for others.
But Shizuma knows otherwise. Some things, like fate, just cannot be explained. And Reiji needs to stop blaming himself for every single mistake, like how he always has before. This is a burden that will never lighten if accepted, and he knows it will only get heavier until it breaks Reiji's spirit.
"Present your face."
Shizuma steels himself, because he knows the pain will create a backlash along the link they have always shared.
("In the end, it was you getting angry that had the fastest effect. I understand now.")
----
Autumn comes. Life settles back into its usual rhythm - studying, training, and performing, just like it has always been for the past three years. Reiji recovers from that loss and moves forward, like he always does, and Shizuma is content to just watch.
Their civics tutor tells the two of them that Reiji has been selected as valedictorian. Shizuma feels a bright, excited happiness that isn't quite his, casting a brilliant golden glow on the world around them.
People still ask him, here and there, why he does not try to break away from Reiji's shadow. To this, he replies that a shadow is only a shadow if one decides to stay within it; instead of walking by the side of the one whose brilliance is its cause. As long as Reiji is happy, he can share in that happiness, because they are linked by something that cannot be explained.
(This is a better life.)
----
It's not all that difficult to hide a weapon inside a leather jacket.
The man doesn't answer why he is here. Reiji doesn't recognize him as a student, and neither do the front desk attendants. When a knife gets embedded inside the counter of said desk, everyone clears out. Shizuma tells the dance apprentices to go deeper into the estate, and if needed head out by the back door. He passes his keycard to one of the graduates, and soon the entrance building is entirely empty. One of the attendants call the police, and he calls Reiji's parents. The two of them watch from behind a screen door open by only a sliver - the assailant doesn't go for the till, not only because there is no till, but also because one of the younger students chose that exact moment to scream.
The screen door breaks. Reiji tells Shizuma to pick up the child and run. He obeys.
Behind him, Reiji darts into a side hall and picks up the katana enshrined in its alcove. The cold steel glints in the afternoon sunlight for the first time in decades.
Japanese buyou was never meant as any form of battle dance, but it is relatively easy to adapt its fluid steps to move around armed men. By the time Shizuma comes back, the sound of police sirens can already be heard. He notes the various red patches on Reiji's sleeves, feels their dull sting that his best friend was trying his hardest to repress.
Shizuma, is everyone safe?
They are. Your parents should be coming soon. Just a bit more.
Reiji nods, and in one swift stroke he strikes the man's wrist and makes him drop his last machete. The gate of the estates creak open, and the sounds of boots on gravel ring like a series of discordant chimes. The assailant growls a name - one that he recognises as a yakuza clan - and reaches into his shirt.
There is the sound of of thunder.
Something roughly shoves him to the side, and Shizuma's hands go instinctively to his chest. The pain makes him close his eyes, resounding inside his head like a sledgehammer. He hears Reiji utter an enraged cry, something he has never done before; and the intruder topples backwards into a heap on the floor.
When he opens his eyes, there is no scarlet stain on his kimono.
Reiji gives him a relieved smile. Shizuma knows it's forced, because the light in those violet eyes go out immediately.
----
The air in the corridors smell of antiseptic. It's a very hospital smell, with chlorine and other unnamed chemicals forcibly bleaching out any smell of disease.
But one doesn't need to smell disease to know it lingers here. There is a different tang to the midnight air he breathes, laced with washed-out emotion screened by white walls. As he passes the wards, the atmosphere around him alternates. People who recover, and people who do not. Lit rooms, and darkened rooms. Black and white. The contrast is dizzying, almost - Venetian blinds draped over the mindscape of the entire building. Intense emotion etched into the air so hard that even he can feel them through the mental shield that he has raised for the first time in years.
He lifts one hand and presses it to his temple, and the harsh white light of the waiting room fades. It's quiet here, with only the determined background hum of the surgeons working. Their eyes are bright, but bright in the way weathered quartz shines - faded, and only intense because of the nature that their daily work requires.
It's quiet, enough to hear a pin drop.
Nana asks him if he is going to remain here for the entire duration. There is still panic in her eyes, disbelief - and he knows that she is only asking to be polite. But this is fine. It is a burden he has to bear alone.
"Please go and rest, Sakurai-san. I will watch over him."
She nods, and promises to be back before the operation ends.
(After all, a pin weighs as much as a human soul.)
----
Thirty minutes before the scheduled end time, Shizuma finally rises from his seat. He does not wait for the whitecoats to exit and tell him the news, because he already knows. After all, he had always known Reiji best. This was no exception.
(The pin drops. It does not make a sound, because silence will always be louder than anything he can put into words.)
----
The funeral was a somber affair. Buddhist priests hosted the wake, and the air was filled with incense. It was all over in a whirl of black and white, as the attendees came and went much like clockwork - very efficient, and very hollow. One does not need to be a telepath to feel how the atmosphere was weighted down with lead.
When the last of the guests leave, Reiji's mother finally breaks down in tears. He walks over, and says nothing while she babbles an unending stream of words. The one he can pick out the most often was 'son'.
She finally lapses into silence after a good long while; he doesn't check the time. She dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief before raising her head and looking Shizuma straight in the eye.
"I'm sorry. I know - this must be very hard for you -"
"- it's okay."
He answers reflexively, placing a hand on her trembling ones, forcing every muscle in his body to still.
"Don't worry about me. I will be fine."
She smiles a little, albeit tearfully, and tells him how strong he must be to keep calm like this. To that, he just nods, and quietly takes his leave.
(Even if he cries, Reiji would never hear it.)
----
He thinks briefly about how fitting it would be if they coloured the cremation fire purple. But then he remembers that it would not be practical, as violet flames are easily overpowered by other colours.
For the first time since that day, Asuma comes to talk to him directly. The two brothers stand in silence to watch the flames - only when it starts to die down does the younger one start to speak.
"Aniki."
Shizuma nods. There is silence again - he can tell how the other feels, a mixture of grief, regret and uncertainty all mixed together in a darkened mist of black and white, the two colours swirling around each other and yet never quite combining into a single nameable emotion.
"I'm sorry."
He nods again.
"It must be so... hard for you now. I-if you ever want to talk, I'm here..."
Asuma was always not as tactful with emotions as Shizuma was, it was something that everyone commented on. But he can tell his younger brother's sincerity - even if Shizuma ended up choosing Reiji over him, there was never really that much resentment between them. Asuma understood, and that was all he could ask of the other.
He says nothing at first. Instead, he reaches out and gets ahold of his brother's consciousness, opening his mind to the other and letting him perceive the hole that had now opened up in his mindscape. A hole that marked the place where Reiji always was, a kaleidoscope of emotion that never dimmed no matter how difficult life became. Now, there was only pitch black silence.
It's just for an instant, but the impact is already visible. Asuma takes a few steps back, and three expressions flash across his face in succession: shock, pain and grief.
(It's all too easy to get used to something and not notice it until it's gone forever.)
----
Yamane told the rest of the Stride Team on the Monday afterwards. It was the first time Shizuma ever saw Tasuku cry.
Nobody moved a single thing off Reiji's desk, but it only amplified the void that he left behind. When their assignments get returned, the teachers hesitate - but Shizuma raises his hand and asks for his friend's anyway. Bantarou delivers them to him, purple words inked onto black and white, not a single trace of a smile on his usually cheerful face.
"I'm sorry, oshizu."
He smiles a little, the degree of it carefully calculated and tempered.
"Thank you, Bantarou. I will be fine."
Bantarou starts, surprise breaking through his gloom. Shizuma made it a habit never to call Bantarou by his name, only his surname - but there are always exceptions. Today is one.
"O-okay. Um, please take care of yourself, vice-president."
The blond leaves. Shizuma lets his smile hold for a fraction of a second longer before he drops it and files the papers away.
----
Later in the week, Shizuma drives into Tokyo. He knows Nana's phone number by heart, because it was on Reiji's mind enough times for him to remember it. She meets him in a cafe off the street where Hounan is, with evening sunlight streaming in through the half-closed blinds.
She orders milk coffee. He doesn't get anything. They sit in silence.
He has no doubt that she can feel how he feels, since they are both telepaths. So he merely lets their minds do the talking, transmitting emotions across a link built by two people grappling with loss. Nana is hurting more than him, he thinks. After all, she has just lost the person she loved. But she surprises him by speaking first.
"Shizuma-san..."
He lifts his eyes, willing her to continue.
"... if you don't want me to go back to Kamakura again, it's okay. I-if you don't want... to be reminded... I've only caused you trouble before..."
She cuts herself short, holding back sobs. The handkerchief held tightly between her hands has purple flowers embroidered onto it.
"It's okay. I will be fine." It sometimes surprises him on how calm he can force himself to be. His voice is still level. "If you need anyone to talk to, I will be here for you."
He produces a piece of paper and writes his phone number down. She takes it tearfully.
(He needs to be strong for her, because the one who was destined to do so could no longer fulfil that duty.)
----
"Please do not fool around in public, Reiji-sama."
Reiji reluctantly takes his hands away from Nana's eyes, stepping back.
"Hmm.... Shizuma, are you being colder to me than usual?"
"Maybe." The look on Reiji's face is priceless. "But Sakurai-san is also a Relationer like me, and I need to ensure she does not encounter any difficulties."
Nana laughs, a clear laugh much like the tinkling of glass bells, and Reiji laughs as well. Shizuma just watches with a contented smile.
He can feel Reiji's happiness, and that is good enough for him.
----
Time passes. The school scrambles to find a new valedictorian. People still apologize for bringing Reiji up, but Shizuma tells them that he will be fine. After all, it is difficult to forget someone who had left behind such a brilliant trail before being abruptly extinguished. The most that his assistant could do is to pick up the shattered pieces, even if they cut deep when handled in their rawest form.
When Akira steps up to the podium to make their cohort's graduation speech, Shizuma excuses himself to go to the restroom. The civics tutor makes no move to stop him.
He walks into the porcelain-tiled room, and the lights that flicker on illuminate it with a blue-white glow. Lifting a hand, he touches the mirror, hoping that his reflection will do something different, so that the silence in his head wouldn't drown out the entire world around him.
----
No one is ever truly alright after losing someone so very important to them. But more often than not, they have to pretend, and it is a pretense that Shizuma keeps up, because he needs to for everyone else. Even Reiji looked up to him as a figure of stability, and he thinks it would be travesty to stop now.
He decides to leave the silence untouched, because it is already too late for someone else to be able to fill it again.
(There are some scars that the strong are proud to have earned, and some that the weak are forced to bear. He isn't sure which one this is.)
----
In the summer after he graduates, Shizuma returns to train the rookies. Asuma leads the team now, having grown more steady and mature. Tasuku and Kaede are still on the team, they greet him like old comrades. But there is still a subdued sadness in their eyes, in the way they never bring Reiji up around him, the way they keep their respectful distance.
He doesn't mind. He tells them that he will be fine, that it was alright. He screens his mind from them, a skill that he now practices on a daily basis, and goes about his duties just as he did the year before.
When the sun finally comes close to setting, he is the last person to leave the training grounds. He heads out away from the others, towards the beach, and stands silent before the wind and water. For a good long while, nothing changes.
You don't have to hold onto those regrets, you know.
He sighs.
I can't help it. I always worry about you. Even if you say it, I... I just wish I could have done something to prevent it. A pause, and he feels himself subconsciously lacing his fingers together. You know how I feel about this - you didn't deserve it. Just... it was unfair. And I was powerless to do anything.
The voice chuckles, cheerful and carefree, before becoming somber again.
I know. And I appreciate it, I really do. But... I don't think I could have stopped it, either. I was not strong enough.
Shizuma knows how he felt about this, so he keeps quiet for now.
Even so, I wanted to protect everyone. And you helped me, too, in those moments. You got everyone out, so no one else would be hurt. That's what I truly wanted, to keep them safe. You helped me do that.
He feels something wet on his cheek, but he doesn't move to wipe it away.
I wanted to protect you, most of all. You've been protecting me all this time, so... I guess I'm just... not very good at it.
He can see Reiji smile now, the same knowing cheer that contained a thoughtful ruefulness few people could read, the one he used as a front even when things started falling apart all around. Shizuma knows it's this one, because of how Reiji's mouth doesn't quite crinkle at the sides, and how his eyes shine with a violet fire that persists even now.
I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me one last time.
He wants to grab his best friend by the shoulders and just shout at him, a mixture of anger, relief and regret that threatened to boil out and overflow into his surroundings - but it doesn't, because he knows. He knows that the voice speaking to him is merely the last echo of a presence that had been a part of his mindscape for the last nineteen years; the way footprints washed from the sand will not be forgotten if someone makes the effort to memorize them.
After all, Shizuma knows Reiji best. And some things, like telepathy and friendship, just cannot be explained.