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❃𝓘 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝔃𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓭...❃

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Early in the morning, Akira stirred from his sleep, blinking blearily as he registered the faint rustle of movement. His eyes drifted toward the door just in time to catch a glimpse of Huan slipping out of the room, his project in hand. Akira's brow furrowed slightly, but he was too groggy to think much of it. It didn't seem unusual for Huan to work late or leave early.

Still, there was something about the way Huan moved—quiet, almost too quiet. Like he didn't want to be seen.

Akira shifted under his blankets. He closed his eyes again, telling himself that everything was fine, that Huan probably just couldn't sleep. Maybe he was getting breakfast, maybe working in the robotics lab to clear his mind. Huan had always been the type to bury himself in work whenever something was on his mind.

It's nothing, Akira thought, pulling the blanket tighter around him. He exhaled slowly, trying to let go of the unease that nagged at him, and eventually, he drifted back to sleep.

But it wasn't peaceful.

°•°•°•《○●○❃○●○》•°•°•°

Akira found himself standing in a hall of endless mirrors. Each one reflected a distorted version of his face as he walked by. The air was thick, heavy, and every breath felt like it was being drawn from his chest with difficulty. The hall was dark, almost suffocating, as if something terrible lurked just beyond the reflections.

He paused before one mirror, drawn to the image within. It showed him surrounded by people—family, elders, and other clan members gathered in what seemed to be a grand celebration. A clan gathering. The elders were praising him, and he saw himself bowing in gratitude, his face set in a perfect mask of stoicism and dignity. He spoke to the guests with poise, but something felt wrong.

Suddenly, a crack echoed through the air. Akira instinctively glanced at the mirror, expecting it to have shattered. But instead, it wasn't the glass—it was his face. In the reflection, his face began to break apart, piece by piece, the cracks widening with each polite smile he forced, each fake word of happiness he spoke. The more he pretended, the more fragments of his face fell away, until all that remained was a hollow, empty head—nothing but a shell of who he used to be.

The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. This was his engagement party. Akira squealed, so high-pitched it cracked the glass. He didn't want to marry a woman—he liked men. I don't wanna ruin a poor girl's life! The reflection of his empty self just stood there, lifeless.

"This isn't real..." Akira whispered to himself, his voice shaking. "It's a dream... a nightmare."

He tore his gaze from the shattered reflection and stumbled toward another mirror. In this one, the image was far more quiet—he was alone, isolated in his room. The silence was suffocating. His reflection watched as a pale version of himself picked up a blade from a nearby table. Akira's heart stopped for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. His reflection lifted the blade, hands trembling. No! Akira's eyes widened, and he looked away quickly. He could never do that—he had so much to live for, so much he wanted to experience.

But the question lingered in the air: Could he really do the things he wished to live for? Or was he destined to remain trapped by expectations?

His chest tightened as he moved to another mirror. This time, the image it showed was different—he was happy. He saw himself laughing, relaxed as he gently applied makeup with a brush, swirling the white foundation across his face. His reflection was vibrant, alive. A shadowy figure stood behind him, styling his long hair with careful hands. Akira looked closer at the figure's reflection—it had fox ears and a tail. But then, as he watched, his heart sank. The figure's hands, the ones so lovingly doing his hair, were covered in blood.

Akira's stomach twisted in disgust, a wave of nausea rising in his throat. He couldn't bear to look any longer. He tore his gaze away, closing his eyes, trying to block out the horrifying image. But the images stayed with him—fractured, suffocating, and impossible to escape.

~

He was his seven-year-old self again, standing in the thick, shadowy woods of the Chen estate. It was a clan gathering—one of those formal events he had come to loathe. The Fujisawa clan had been invited, and as the eldest son and the only one of age to participate, Akira was expected to be in the children's competitions. This time, it was about catching spirits using spirit pouches. Tedious, boring work, but there was no avoiding it.

His fox mask sat uncomfortably on his face, because tradition. The mask was meant to shield him, to hide him, as it had done for his family for generations, but it always made him feel distant, separated from everything. Except his family. I guess that's its job.

As he wandered deeper into the woods, his hand clutching the spirit pouch, he saw one of the wispy, white creatures circling around a small burrow, drawn to something inside. Curiosity tugged at him. He caught the spirit easily, tucking it away into the pouch, before checking into the burrow.

His breath hitched.

Inside was a boy, around his age, wearing a blue robe, curled up into himself. The boy was trembling—terrified. But more than that, he was hurt. Akira's eyes quickly scanned over the bruises marring the boy's skin, his heart sinking at the sight.

"Are you okay?" Akira asked, his voice soft.

But the boy's wide, fearful eyes stared back, uncomprehending. He doesn't understand me, Akira realized. A language barrier. He knew enough to recognize it in the boy's confused expression.

For a moment, Akira hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then, he crouched lower, extending his hand. Even if they couldn't speak, this gesture was at least universal. He hoped the boy would understand.

Slowly, the boy reached out, his hand trembling as he took Akira's.

Akira pulled him out of the burrow carefully, guiding him to a nearby tree. He made sure to be gentle, sitting the boy down before rummaging through his sleeve for the small vial of ointment he always carried. As he applied it to the boy's wounds, he thought, who could have done this to him?

The boy winced slightly at the cool touch of the ointment, but he stayed still, watching Akira quietly. Once Akira finished, he looked at the boy and asked softly, "Who did this to you?"

°•°•°•《○●○❃○●○》•°•°•°

Akira woke up, his mind replayed the dream. His body still felt the ghost of that long—forgotten memory, but the room was quiet now, save for his own steady breaths. He glanced over at Huan's bed, it was empty.

Where could Huan have gone at this hour? He stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to shake off the restlessness that clung to him. Sleep wouldn't come now. Something in the pit of his stomach told him he should find Huan.

Without thinking much more, he got out of bed and quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes. It was still early, so the halls were empty and eerily quiet as he made his way through the dormitory. Akira walked briskly, his thoughts running in circles as he tried to figure out where Huan could be. Maybe the robotics lab?

But as he turned a corner, a faint noise caught his attention. At first, he thought he imagined it. A scream? Or was someone being dragged? His instincts kicked in before his mind could catch up, and he followed the sound, his heart pounding in his chest.

That's when he heard it.

Zixin's voice.

Akira froze, peering around a corner and catching sight of them. Zixin stood with that arrogant sneer on his face, looming over Huan, who was cornered and breathing hard. Xian's figure was next to him, his hand having just released its grip on Huan.

Zixin's chuckle cut through the silence like a knife. "What? Not going to say anything? Don't tell me America turned you into a rotten banana?" His voice was thick with mockery, his words dripping with venom. "I heard you followed in your mother's footsteps. Working at a brothel... it's fitting, isn't it?"

A brothel? He hadn't known that—could it be true?  Akira's eyes darted between them and Huan, who stood trembling, his back against the wall. Huan actually worked at a brothel?! His mind raced, but he couldn't dwell on the shock because Zixin's next words froze him in place.

Zixin's voice dropped into a sinister hiss. "We won't tell anyone who you really are... Chen Huan."

Chen Huan. Akira blinked, his pulse quickening as he looked harder. It is Huan. His Huan—Jia Huan—was Chen Huan. He realized what this was. 

Zixin stepped closer to Huan, his tone growing even more malicious. "I would save my amusement, but my cousin, he wants to know... did you learn anything useful in America? Or maybe you still remember—"

Huan suddenly broke free from Xian's grasp, his movements frantic as he backed away. Akira could see it in his eyes—pure terror, as if he was ready to crumble, looking for a way to escape but finding none.

Akira's body tensed, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to think quickly. The Chen cousins couldn't see him from this angle, but if he wasn't fast enough, they'd hurt Huan. In a rush, he felt his body begin to dissolve, his form breaking apart into delicate sakura petals. He needed to get one close to Huan, just enough to make contact.

One petal drifted in the air, carried by a breeze, and gently landed on Huan's arm. Akira watched as Huan stared at it, stunned. But before the Chen cousins could react, before Huan could even question what was happening, the petals began to swirl around him, engulfing him completely. His body also dissolved into the petals.

In a blink, Huan vanished from their sight. Akira worried on what they might think. They will certently be suspisious.

The world spun as the sakura petals, weaved through the air like the wind until they reappeared in their dorm room. It all happened so fast that when they materialized back into solid forms, Huan stumbled, caught in Akira's arms. A few petals still danced in the air, gently swaying to the ground as the last remnants of Akira's technique faded.

Huan stared at Akira, his eyes wide and wild, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. Akira didn't say anything at first. His heart was still racing, the adrenaline coursing through him as he held Huan close by the waist. He could feel Huan's panic, he felt him trembling, his fear... all of it.

But more than anything, Akira could see the shame in Huan's eyes, and that broke his heart the most.

Huan blinked up at him, realization dawning as the horror of what had just happened settled in. He looked terrified—not just from the encounter, but from the fact that Akira had heard everything.

His voice cracked, raw and fragile, slicing through Akira's panic. "What did you hear?"

Akira froze, his throat tightening as he glanced at Huan, unsure of how to respond. The truth? All of it? He had heard everything, every painful word that Zixin had said. His body tensed. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't prepared for this kind of situation.

Huan's voice cracked again, more desperate this time. "Did you hear them? Did you hear what they said about me?"

Akira didn't trust himself to speak, so he nodded, slow and hesitant, trying not to make things worse. But that nod seemed to shatter something in Huan. In an instant, he had grabbed Akira by the collar, shoving him against the wall, the sudden force shocked him. Huan's face was inches from his own, and for a brief second, Akira couldn't help but think how close they were. He noticed the flush in Huan's cheeks, the intensity in his eyes. Huan was so—he shook the thought away, trying to steady himself.

"What did you hear?!" Huan's voice was shaking, his grip tightening on Akira's collar.

Akira didn't move, didn't fight back. Instead, he reached up, placing his hands gently over Huan's fists. His touch was soft, meant to calm, but it only seemed to fuel Huan's desperation.

"Did you really get kicked out of the Chen Clan? And... work in that sort of situation?" Akira finally managed to ask, his voice quieter than he intended.

Huan's hands tightened around Akira's collar again, his voice low, hiding the fear underneath. "So what if I did?!"

Akira swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting back his own panic. "It's okay. I won't tell anyone. I'm not judging you, Huan... for any of it. You're still... you. I still care about you." Akira's voice came out steadier than he expected, though the words felt fragile as they left his lips. How could he explain to Huan that he genuinely cared for him, despite everything? That he wanted to protect him, to understand him better, even though they'd only scratched the surface of knowing one another?

Huan's face crumbled in front of him, the anger slipping away, replaced by a vulnerability, the same one he saw last time. His voice barely held together as he whispered, "You don't understand... I wasn't just kicked out. My father... he disowned me."

Akira's chest tightened, the pain in Huan's voice cutting through him. He felt a wave of guilt crash over him—guilt for not knowing how to fix this, for not understanding Huan's pain more deeply. How could he? How could he possibly understand what it felt like to be abandoned by your own family?

Without thinking, he moved closer, wrapping his arms around Huan. The action felt instinctive, like it was the only thing he could do to keep Huan from falling apart completely. He pulled Huan onto him, holding him tight, as if somehow that would shield him from all the pain he'd been carrying. He wished, more than anything, that he could understand Huan's pain better, that he could say something—anything—that would make this all easier for him.

But for now, all he could do was hold him.

Huan's body collapsed against him, the sobs finally breaking free. Akira tightened his grip, his hand moving through Huan's hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Each sob that racked through Huan's body tugged at Akira's heart strings, making him ache in a way he hadn't expected. He wanted to take Huan's pain away, to bear some of the weight for him. But how?

"It's okay," Akira whispered, the words feeling inadequate, yet they were all he had. "This doesn't change anything."

Yet as he held Huan, he really needed to tell him that, Huan needs to get help. He himself won't be enough. "But, Huan... you need to tell the others."

The moment those words left his mouth, he felt Huan pull away, panic flashing in his tear-streaked eyes. "No! I can't. Akira, I can't tell anyone!" He shouted. "Please, don't say anything... I don't want anyone to know..."

Akira guided him to the bed, sitting him down gently as he tried to calm him. "Relax, Huan," he said softly, sitting beside him. "I'm not saying you need to tell everyone. But you should at least talk to someone. If not us, then maybe a counselor. Zixin and Xian could have hurt you worse today."

"No!" Huan interrupted, his voice breaking. "I don't want anyone else knowing... Please, Akira. Don't tell anyone. I'm begging you..."

Akira hesitated, seeing the sheer desperation in Huan's eyes. His heart clenched, but he nodded, agreeing to keep the secret. "Alright. I won't tell anyone. But we need to make a deal."

Huan looked at him, his eyes wary. "What kind of deal?"

Akira leaned closer, meeting his gaze seriously. "I won't say anything. But you can't be alone anymore. If you're going somewhere, I go with you. Or at least one of your friends does. I can't let what happened today happen again."

Huan stared at him, clearly wanting to push back, to refuse the help. But after a long pause, he nodded. "Fine. I'll agree."

Akira felt a wave of relief, and he reached out, gently brushing away one of the lingering tears on Huan's cheek. "I just... I care about you, Huan. That's all."

Huan sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Thanks... and, uh, thanks for saving me."

"It's fine," Akira murmured, quickly retracting his hand.

An awkward silence filled the room. Akira shifted nervously, racking his brain for something—anything—to lighten the mood. He glanced over at the box of cookies sitting nearby.

"Do you... maybe want some cookies?" he asked shyly. "I have another box."

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