Not for the first time at all, Shintaro wakes up and memories flood into his very being, crawling through his pores like invading mites, eating him out from within, dragging out a broken sob from his chest.

And then the tears spill, and he can't brush them aside.

There's a burning in his chest, like something's dying in there, like a knife is just gouging through his flesh (again and again and again and) somehow the red of his blanket is nauseating. The red of the T-shirt he wears is repulsive.

He slips his fingers under the sleeve of his wrist and tries not to break down further when the scars of cutting aren't there.

His head is in disarray-- but he remembers despair. He remembers his sister's cries. He remembers watching them get cut down one after another and then it repeats again and again and he remembers , eyes glowing red and sending him into flashes of visions that makes him wish he were blind.

He finds himself in the mirror, and he sees himself-- his black hair, his startlingly red eyes, his teary cheeks and his utterly vulnerable, so completely weak self.

It's impulsive and desperate, but he takes a painfully easy step forward, and with a howl that's almost inhuman he throws his fist into the glass, shattering it to bits.

The pain that burns through his hand comforts him.

He stays there, breath raspy against the cold morning, eyes light against the dim room, his blood is red against the blue of night.

A sear flares through his head, and he cries out, feeling the rest of the memories flow into him, like a belated system update to this shitty reset system.

The next second he's getting pulled away from the mirror, and he realizes someone's screaming his name. Another barks orders, and he's pushed impossibly gently into his bed as a red-haired face sets down beside him, faded red eyes narrowed so fearfully as he crouched down.

It's not Momo.

That's when everything else comes back to him.

-

His name is Akashi Shintaro.

His father, the head of the Akashi Corporation, is among the richer families in Japan, holding up the realm of business as one of its vital pillars. The world held high expectations for the twins of the household, who were hailed as geniuses in their own right.

Tragically, just earlier this year, the wife of the household passed from an illness.

And since then, the burden of his father's expectations was weighed heavily on his only sons-- the twins, Shintaro and Seijuurou.

The older of the two was the first to crack. Shattering under pressure and crumbling under talent, Shintaro had shut himself inside his room and spent the remainder of his elementary education locked away inside his room, refusing contact with the outside world.

"It's the same," Shintarou realized, "but... Momo isn't here."

Something in that last loop changed everything. Reset everything in a way that will never end in such a tragedy again-- but the price was that he'd lose his little sister?

Now he had a younger brother. A twin brother. It isn't the same.

He missed them. Missed the Mekakushi Dan. Missed their ridiculous antics and Ene's incessant teasing and Kido's helpless timidity and Kano's unreadable deception and Seto's understanding gazes and Marry's childish needs and Hibiya's obnoxious attitude and Konoha's indifferent presence and-- and Momo's annoyed, irritating, yet so adorable little call for Onii-chan .

They're not here anymore, and he mourned.

-

"You are talking to me, whether you like it or not."

Seijuurou sits him down, and a stern glint in his eyes is almost uncharacteristic of him. But Shintaro knows that he's simply concerned. Even Seijuurou has enough human in his left to feel empathy for his suffering older twin.

Shintaro's eyes are black again, but Seijuurou's eyes remain that faded red that, although it's beautiful, is nothing compared to the red Shintaro reminisces on.

"I don't want to talk," Shintaro murmurs back, and something in him is gathering up again.

It's the same numbness he always feels, after each loop he regains his memories-- it's the same feeling of his soul trying to hold itself together, taping back his pieces and creating a farce of humanity that although isn't as strong as Kano's masks, it works. It reminds him that this time will be okay , and creates in him a resolve that he pretends to still believes in.

This time, he lets himself believe that resolve, because he has a reason to.

"But I want to listen," he says, and the smile on his face is a little jagged. "Tell me about you, Seijuurou."

And when the red-haired boy, his brother , sits beside him and starts talking, Shintaro closes his eyes and listens. The pain in his hands fade, the ache in his heart swells and mellows out.

He lets himself be absorbed into a new family, a new love .

And then the determination brims through him, in a new form.

It's no longer save them. Save them. Remember it happened and never forget it happened. Forever and ever, never, ever forget, because people die when they are forgotten and Shintaro knows that better than anyone.

Now it's we'll meet again .

Now his conviction is for hope, not clinging to despair. It's for that whispered little promise between the eight of them. And that-- that is something he's willing to retain in his eyes.