21. Rewind

"Look, Nao," Kazu held his younger brother by the shoulders-- "Kazane may be your sister, but it'll be better if you don't go near her too often."

Nao watched, curiosity brimming in his eyes as he observed his older sister-- sitting by the window, looking out-- and talking sweetly into the phone, so enamoured by the conversation she seemed absorbed into her own world, forgetting her family.

"She's different," Kazu didn't sugarcoat the phrasing, "soon she's going to go and live in a world neither of us can enter."

Nao wavered on the strange words-- did it mean his sister was like him, a world-leaper? It didn't seem to make sense in that context--

Nao, still a child holding the mind of a teenager, he seemed to put the pieces together rather smoothly, bit by bit understanding the reason and the fear in his brother's grip.

"Even if it's only you, Nao," Kazu made him promise this, "never stoop to the underground."

His sister was a mafioso, and she was dragging her twin down with her.

The smile on her face will never seem any less warped in Nao's heart-- that lovestruck, senseless woman, tearing apart her own identification papers, shredding every family photo that held her smile in it-- destroying every piece of furniture that once hid her tears in them--

After madness overtook her and nothing could stop her anymore-- she simply threw her belongings over one shoulder, and waved goodbye as she walked right out the door.

Nao will always hate Kunomasu Kazane.

And he will also hate the underworld that she loved so much.

ー

At first, maybe it hurt.

Everything just stopped, and from her shoulder a sharp cramp broke her shoulder blade into two, stabbed through to her left palm from the inside out-- and crescendoed to to other arm like a myriad of centipedes gouging at the speed of light.

Her teeth had bitten her tongue till it shed, but the pain was barely registered. Even the taste was absent from her senses-- her eyes were wide open but she could see nothing.

Did it hurt? The numbness was deafening; the itch in her back rubbed at the back of her mind; it may have just felt like a tickle. Excruciating agony shot across her as quickly as it left, but the phantom reminded her of the pain every second it didn't feel like it'd left at all.

Before she even realized, she was losing altitude-- her body and her limbs were loose from all nerve functions, and a cold waft through her skin reminded her of a sunburn experience.

It was only when she hit the ground the she gasped, the pain shredding across her burned skin so sharply it must've drawn blood, but she couldn't even muster the will to get her teeth out of the soil. Not even a finger was twitching in her control.

She was just still, empty, immovable-- without function.

She stopped.

It took her a moment longer to realize she breathing did, too.

Nothing was working.

Her eyes were seeing-- but why was it so bright here? it should've been nighttime, rainy, even. So what were these irritating flashing lights?

Soon, all she could see was white.

Then the white was gone, too.

ー

Nao jerked to the side-- and slipped.

His hand shot out, cushioning a brief fall from the bed to the floor-- but didn't support him long enough. He crumpled onto the ground, tangled in his blankets in the humid heat.

Laying broken on the ground, he curled up tough and tight-- and failed to suppress the whimper that just tore from his throat.

Pulling an arm over his head, he wished it would disappear.

He wished that vivid imagery from that horrid dream would just vanish already, like the pathetic, forgettable dream it was supposed to be.

He prayed it would go away, go away, go away. 

He didn't want to be anywhere near it. Sobbing from the monster that ate him out within, he gripped a hand to his heart and felt it beat. 

Rhythmically, one-two, one-two, one-two.

It was working. It was working.

He's not dead.

He's not dead, he choked on a sharp breath, sniffling pathetically.

"That was just a dream," he lied to himself, "just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream," chanting to himself as if that'd work any better, "just a fucking nightmare. just a fucking--"

He howled, a despaired, agonized wail. 

He was impatient, irritated, devastated, broken. Shattered beyond recognition, yet pretending to be an intricate kaleidoscope people could still look at-- 

Sometimes he just hated how horrifically useless he was. How meaningless his existence was. How miserable he was against his own weaknesses.

Why couldn't it just all end already?

it was probably much easier that way.

ー

"Are you sure you'll go to work today? You look really pale."

"I'm fine."

"Could I at least drive you up?"

"Sorry, Ms Sakurai-- I just need a bit of time to myself."

Naomasa kept his eyes on the ground, and wondered what was the point of all this. 

People spent a lifetime trying to forget that they die in the end. Like idiots, they obsess with some form of perishable entertainment only to die whining about their insatiable lust for addiction. 

He wasn't any different, not then and not now either.

If life was so meaningless, there wouldn't be a difference if he just died now. If life was all about pleasures, why was he fated to die so early?

She wasn't loved in that world, but she worked and laboured for the little bit she treasured-- then tragically she lost it in death. 

He was loved in this world, but he discarded it without a second thought, yet it came chasing after him in the form of people he couldn't spend longer with.

He hated this thing called life.

This thing that just played around with people, watching him suffer through such cruel fates without the inkling to help or interfere, simply for their own enjoyment-- how was this fair?

The rain was heavy and he couldn't see a thing before him-- but all he needed was to see the sight of his sneakers soaking in more muddy water, squelching disgustingly to just describe his current emotions, venting in the form of horrid emotions--

The quick flaps of a fan cut into his thoughts.

The rain was loud and deafening, yet Nao could make out the sound of something akin to a jet engine, beating against the rains--

Mere steps from where he stood, right by the school building-- was a boy standing in the rain, yet not at all wet or damp from the weather.

Something, something so quick, was rapidly spinning across his head, his hair swooshing like wind was blowing across it-- the pure white shade of it caught Nao's attention.

"Horibe Itona-kun," he spoke up with calmness that betrayed his inner turmoil, his teacher mask fitting so easily back onto his face he almost tore it right off in unease-- with a smile that could've never expressed his agony, he asked, "what are you doing out here? you'll get wet in the rain, y'know?"

Itona shot his gaze over with such alarm-- no, not alarm-- that was bloodlust. He was preparing for an attack.

His eyes were wide and angry, his lips were sealed tight and pulled flat in a lack of emotional sensations.

This child was mad. The insane kind of it-- his gaze was crazy, and his body language was taut like a robot's tuned movements. Programmed to perfection, this was a government experimental subject.

"I won't," his answer was stoic, matter-of-fact, and uninterested, "for I am stronger than the rain."

Nao held back a snort.

"Even if that's so," Nao's expressions softened, feeling the dull emotions affect him too-- maybe he was tired of being happy today. He'll probably take a nap in the lounge.

"Well," Nao mumbled, hoping Itona could hear him, "if you get struck by thunder, it's going to hurt really bad, alright?"

Itona turned back toward the school wall that led to the back of the classroom-- he had easily become disinterested, and didn't feel the need to answer that question.

"I'm stronger than the thunder," an easy, unconsidered answer left his lips-- and his body language made it clear he wanted the teacher to leave.

Nao's eyes narrowed-- "Itona," he stressed the name, "this strength you have isn't the strength you wished for. This is... this is strength for destruction."

Itona's eyes didn't leave the wall.

"What else would anyone wish for strength?" it didn't seem like he wanted to entertain the teacher any longer on this matter.

Nao breathed, and closed his eyes.

Itona wasn't listening to him-- his heart was nowhere near understanding enough to communicate with this random, insignificant teacher that seemed to have nothing better to do than try to lecture an oddball delinquent.

Nao bit his bottom lip, because that was true.

He didn't have the kind of power to do anything other than talk and pretend that measly, cheesy lines could solve any problem he came across.

Reality evidently didn't work like an anime, even in an anime world.

There was a limit to bullshit, after all.

And Naomasa was starting to forget that he, himself, was epitome of absolute bullshit.