Chase your shadow's flight

It will grasp you in the night

You'll merge, shadow's might

 "Don't do this," Ogiwara warns him for the umpteenth time. As lovely as he is, Tetsuya cannot help but tell his brother through his eyes to quit worrying. Thankfully, the older boy does so with a single nod. Of course, doubt is still there in his thinning, trembling lips.

The dark circles beneath Ogiwara's eyes have deepened; they are no longer mere shadows from restless nights. They are filled with the weight of anxiety that has plagued him since the fateful incident. Lines have begun to etch themselves around his mouth. The boyish aura that once cloaked him has dissipated, leaving behind a visage aged beyond its years.

Tetsuya's heart sinks.

With a soft sigh, Tetsuya gets up and embraces him. "You worry too much, dear brother of mine. Do not fret, for I know what I'm doing. Do you trust me?" He feels Ogiwara nodding to his neck. Smiling, he gently pushes himself away. "Come on, help me dress." He doesn't add that none of the Dancers have volunteered to dress him up. Before, they would help each other regardless of the friction among them. But no one dares to cross their handler tonight.

For years, he has avoided Mibuchi, for he knows that the handler has a great mislike for him. Tetsuya has heard the whispers: He possesses all of the physical traits that the handler lacks and envies. If only the handler knew how much Tetsuya once abhorred those traits of his.

"Do you need this many layers?" Ogiwara asks, his brows knitted as he wraps another sash around Tetsuya's waist.

Who could fault Ogiwara's bewilderment? Tetsuya is enveloped in so much white and sea-green fabric that he's nearly swallowed by it. His knees implore him to take a seat, but he must not. Sitting means you require everyone else to bow down to you. That is why kings have thrones.

Tetsuya must act powerless tonight in order to turn the tables. He seems much smaller than he already is, and that is exactly part of his plan.

It's one of my greatest tools. He resists the impulse to smile at that thought. He used to despise his small frame. He knew it was one of the reasons why everyone thought it was easy to abuse and disrespect him. But after many years of contemplation, he soon understood that his only real option was to embrace it. Use it.

"You are curious how I am faring, am I right?" he asks, patting his face with more powder. When he gets no answer, he sighs softly and sets aside the beauty box. "It seems to me we have been dancing around this subject, but don't you think it's time we were upfront about it? "

From the corner of his eye, he sees his reflection in the mirror: a gentle, compassionate smile spreads across his lips, and his empathetic eyes have the power to melt even the coldest heart. It's no wonder that those who behold him in this light find themselves ensnared by trust. Inside, he shudders. This smile, once reserved solely for his beloved brother, has become one of his weapons. Is there truly nothing he won't exploit to achieve his ends?

But I am doing all of this for him. He'll sacrifice anything, anyone, to ensure his brother's safety. Including his soul.

Ogiwara stammers, looking for the right words, but when Tetsuya squeezes his palm, he quickly becomes more at ease. "Well, I didn't want to force you. You could tell me in your own time. But since you are willing now...how did you manage to survive among the pirates? I saw how..." He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if doing so will erase all the blood and screams from that day.

"We witnessed their cruelty. Why did they spare you?" Ogiwara's question and tone sound innocent, but had they come from somebody else, Tetsuya would think they'd had him. It reminds him of Aomine, who easily discovered who he truly was. Then again, he has managed to gain the cursed prince's trust.

"They thought they could negotiate my life. However, once we were anchored, I was able to flee and hide. That is how the Crown Prince Kagami Taiga found me." He's still thinking about his guide, who is obviously connected to Maro, wondering when they will meet again.

His brother gasps. "Almost what had happened to me." And again, he stammers. "Do you...recall Captain Alon?" Kaptan, Tetsuya almost corrects. "He doesn't see the South as being part of the Empire, and yet he and his men chased me down. I've also been curious about the unusual names he and his men have. Shouldn't they have Fushogane names like we do?"

Tetsuya bites the insides of his cheeks. How dare those people hurt his family? Tetsuya inhales through clamped teeth and lets out a long, trembling exhale that shakes his shoulders.

A sharp notion pierces through him before fury clouds his mind.

Yes, that is odd. They could've punished Ogiwara whilst they were still onboard. Aomine once told him that one of the severe punishments on the ship was to walk the plank.

"Could it be that they genuinely intended to spare you punishment and instead they wanted to give you the fighting chance to get away from them?" he murmurs, but it's loud enough that his brother gasps.

"Could it? Well, now that makes more sense. Besides, Yani had never shown animosity towards me. He always treated people kindly."

He has the urge to correct Ogiwara that humans are complex and so none of them must be trusted. But he drops it. He knows it benefits no one, but he wants to have that brother back who saw good in everyone.

"Ogiwara, do me a favour and never mention our conclusion to anyone."

Questions flood the older boy's face, and yet he doesn't voice them out.

To ease the tension, Tetsuya says, "About their names... There was this pirate who was quite garrulous. He said that one of the laws in the sea is that you can choose to change your name and abandon your old life."

"Oh. But why those names?"

Because they loathe the fact that they have been colonised. "I have no idea. I was so hungry that I fell asleep before he could go into that detail. What does it matter anyway?"

"I guess you're right." Ogiwara nods, and for a split second, Tetsuya expects him to shrug. Of course, he does not. He must be going insane. It's not normal to be looking for the person who held him captive. "Well, then. What else do you need me for?"

Tetsuya shrugs. "I can think of nothing. Leave me be, for I need some quiet time before they summon me." He is met with scrunched brows rather than the expected nod, and that's when he realises what he just did. "A pirate taught me that gesture, or at least I had observed them doing it. I believe it's turning into a habit of mine."

"I wouldn't be surprised. You'd been their prisoner for a long time, with nothing to do but wait for the chance to run away."

🌑

Tetsuya paints his lips with red, the sole vibrant colour on his otherwise flawlessly white face. Everything has to be perfect. Truth be told, he needn't cover himself with white powder thanks to his white skin, and yet tradition begets respect.

To match his blue eyes, he lines his eyelids with azure, a homage to the kingdom he is currently residing in. When he is done, he stares at his reflection and almost laughs at how absurd everything is. Such painstaking effort, only to be washed away with scented oils come nightfall.

He has checked several times, and there are no wounds or scars on him. It is a hair-raising fact, truly. How and why has his body learnt to heal itself? Before the explosion on that island of demons, he was just a normal human.

That golden object. He keeps trying to remember when he saw it way before that event. Something inside him tells him that wasn't the first time he had come across it. Try as he might, it only gives him a headache. Not because he can't recall well. It is as if something is blocking his memory.

It's him, isn't it? Just like he told Aomine, he has been suppressing many memories from emerging. Because if he lets them out, he might lose his mind. This is his way of surviving and moving on. He knows it's not ideal, but what else can he do? It's better to hide than to allow those thoughts and feelings to control you. After all, that damaged part of him is useless, and anything "useless" should always be gone.

He observes his left hand. An hour ago, he nicked it and watched blood drip from his palm to his fingers. For a moment, he feared he had made a mistake and that it was just mere luck that had saved him. But then the strange thing happened again. His incision closed as if stitched together by unseen fingers until all that remained was a blood-splattered hand.

He can still feel the stinging sensation. It doesn't hurt to move it, but it still feels numb. If this is the case, does this mean he's an immortal who can die?

There are too many things to consider at once. All he knows for now is that he must figure out how to make use of it for his goal.

"Look at you. Despite your best efforts to avoid us, you remain the same."

He suddenly snaps awake and finds himself with a stranger, a woman, laughing at him. His body moves at once before his mind can register that somehow someone has come here without him noticing any movement. And yet his hands are flat on his sides. He cannot move. There's that same sensation he'd felt when he was drowning.

Panic. He's panicking. Tetsuya's mouth opens, and his eyes desperately search for help, but it's as if they have their own minds as they stare in the full-length mirror. That is when he realises that the woman isn't physically with him but rather inside the mirror.

Who are you? he says, or at least what he could have said if he could speak.

Instead of answering, the woman—pale skin, pale eyes, pale hair—nods.

Reality fractures around him, the world shifting like a kaleidoscope of broken dreams. A flash of golden light sears his vision, and then he finds himself floating aimlessly, a consciousness without anchor, watching his own body from the outside. The invasion of his mind is a violation beyond comprehension. Thoughts scatter like leaves in a tempest, memories and identities crumbling into dust. An impenetrable barrier rises, severing him from the very core of his being.

Every smell, sight, and touch in this universe is mingling and swirling inside him, and he can't stop screaming. Unfortunately, even that he can't do. His lips are parted, but no sound comes out.

He reaches for his body as it goes down like a puppet without a string. Amidst the oddity, he cannot help but be fascinated. So this is how I look from someone's perspective. It makes sense why everyone underestimates him. He is so small, so frail, and so easy to break.

Anger slithers up his spine and digs its fangs into his neck. As he directs his gaze to the woman who is smiling and grinning at him, the venom flows through him.

The wrath becomes hotter and hotter until he wishes he could burn her with it. He hurts and trembles from an unresolved yearning to do something. Anything but floating and gaping at her.

"Who are you, and what have you done to me?" Whoever she is, how dare she remove him from his body? It may be a chain that has only brought him misery, but it's his body and nothing, and no one is allowed to take that away from him.

The pale woman says nothing. She's too amused to speak. If only he had knives, he would have flayed her ever so slowly until all that was left was a wretched screaming—what is she anyway? A ghost? What does that make him now, then?

Finally, she greets him, smiling from ear to ear. Her teeth, unlike the rest of her, are red, much to his horror. A moment passes by, and it hits him: Her perfect teeth are coated with blood. As if to confirm his discovery, she pokes her tongue out and licks them slowly, savouring the fresh liquid.

"Isn't this amusing? You have run away and changed your destiny, but our Mother just wouldn't let you go."

At the mention of 'Mother', something flashes behind his eyelids. He hadn't thought it was possible, but he can feel his heart thumping hard against his ribcage. How could it be when he is a floating soul?

"I have no idea who you are talking about," he says, clinging onto anything he can as he drifts further away from his soulless body. If he reaches the ceiling and then continues past it, what will happen next? They will find him lying on the floor, with no sign of struggle or illness.

Dead. Just like that.

"Of course you do not. You have turned your back on her. From all of us. How cruel of you, dear sister of mine." Her voice is so cold that it takes him a second to question what she means by 'sister' when he is clearly a male.

"You can hide and change your life all you want, but your destiny awaits you. A girl. A boy. It matters not. You cannot forever run away from Mother."

She's speaking nonsense, that's for sure. However, something deep within him is weeping, as if it's already asking for forgiveness.

His fury is much louder and more intense, though. It's not just being caught unaware; it's being swept away from his body. This pent-up rage has been inside of him his entire life. He doesn't understand where it is coming from, but somehow he knows he must hold onto it.

It's overwhelming, as if he's being consumed by a raging fire.

Another emotion—he needs another emotion.

Ogiwara's embrace. Their first taste of red bean cakes. Giggling and chortling when the freshly baked beans oozed and dripped down to their chins. His mother combing his hair. His blood brothers and sisters loving his puppet show. Akashi teaching him how to write his name and promising to watch him sleep because he was too afraid Kise might suddenly come back. Aomine wiping his tears.

All of it. Bad and good. They are his emotions. They are so warm, it sears him. No, not him, but the woman in the mirror. Her mocking smile falters as she shouts, her power waning against the onslaught of his humanity.

What is she saying? He doesn't know because he doesn't hear. He stops flying. Thousands of snow-blue threads come out of his body and cinch his ankles. They pull him, as if they too are desperate for him to come back.

The woman's smile has faded. She's now throwing insults at him. It would have been useful to know more and to understand why this happened to him, but he wants to live.

Ogiwara holding his hand to ease his nightmares. The children from the market singing him a song as a gesture of gratitude for buying all of their fans. The smell of freshly caught fish, which his father told him to sell from neighbour to neighbour. Akashi building a snowcastle with him. Aomine dancing with him.

These feelings... They belong to me. And as long as he feels, he is alive. And as long as he is alive, he will cherish each one of them. He won't be able to do that if he's no longer breathing, no matter how absurd their circumstances are.

The last thing he remembers as he plunges back into his body is how sad the pale woman is. No longer is she laughing and mocking him. She's longing for him. As she fades, he catches the fear in her eyes. At first, he thinks he has made her feel his strong will to survive, but as Haizaki comes into view, he soon understands why.

Something is amiss with Haizaki tonight: his teeth are bared, his hands are clenched, and the whites of his eyes are brimming with rage. But he advances slowly, as if he has a great purpose.

"Why, I only came here to confront you, whore. But I didn't know you would present yourself like this to me." His grin is far more grotesque than that mystery woman's bloody smile.

🌑

There are hands all over him. What a strange thing to notice. He's caught between consciousness and oblivion. Half of him is aware of what is happening, and half of him is asleep.

It's odd and yet comforting. What is a dream, and what is reality? He is no longer certain.

And then it's all pain. There's pressure everywhere at once, as if he is being punished for breathing.

He is both detached and attached to his body. He needs to move. Needs to leave. His limbs move and then freeze again, and they do not respond in unison as they ought to. The fingers on his body move against his skin as if his flesh were made of water, and yet the touch feels like fire.

"Wha...What are you doing?" Tetsuya manages to croak out. He can't even recognise his own voice; it's as if he had been buried for a hundred years, and now he has returned to haunt.

Through his half-lidded eyes, he sees the hatred on Haizaki's face. "What else? I have to see if you do or do not have wounds and scars, whore. You sounded far too assured back there."

No, please. Don't touch me. If he had complete control over his body, he would have let out all the food he consumed. Why? Why does the world seem determined to strip away his autonomy, to reduce him to nothing more than flesh to be used and discarded?

"And if you don't have any wounds—" Haizaki unfastens the second sash—"I will make one. It doesn't matter if it's new or not. The rule says one wound is enough."

I will kill you, he promises as unconsciousness slowly pulls him in. This isn't his body, because he's not here. With his last ounce of strength, Tetsuya spits on Haizaki's face. The charcoal-haired boy grunts in disgust and slaps him.

There's also a knife, but Tetsuya doesn't feel it, for he is not here. He's somewhere safe, where no one could violate him anymore.

Darkness embraces him. It's a comforting, welcoming void. He takes a long breath, feeling the air fill his lungs. He's back in his village, and this time, no riders will change his life. It's all perfect. His family loves him and would never consider selling him.

"What are you doing?" He hears someone shout. Is it him? Is he asking Haizaki again?

No, this voice is bigger and rougher. Far more terrifying than he could ever be.

Tetsuya cannot see a thing, but he hears someone pleading and crying—Haizaki?—and someone calling his name. "Kuroko! Kuroko! Try to stay awake!"

No...no. He can't. Can't they understand that? They should shut their mouths and leave him be.

"Help me! He's bleeding!"

"Get the knife away from that demon!"

"By the gods! Call the physician!"

"Kuroko? It's going to be all right. Just stay with us."

Stay with us.

Stay...

Stay...

"Isn't this amusing? You have run away and changed your destiny, but our Mother just wouldn't let you go."

Tetsuya stops breathing.