overclocked.

  the lecture he receives is far more expected than the concern bleeding into akane’s tone. akane aoi isn’t one to worry about him; if teru has accidentally caught the affections of the student body, the boy’s the outlier that stands to the side with a scowl, a signature roll of the eyes, the question of why hangs over his head. it’s almost endearing to know he cares at least a bit in spite of his harsh attitude.

  … not that teru much deserves the softness. bandaged hands curl as the sunrise settles across the room, breathing in the silence through shallow intakes. he isn’t quite sure he’s felt this sore in years, perhaps in his entire life. each life saved from dangerous supernaturals holds a part of his heart, but the ones he brings down that have committed no crimes yet are blown to the wind. they don’t matter; supernaturals are presences that offer nothing to those that reside in the near shore, only serving to be nuisances that he has to remove before it’s too late.

  yet, here one is at his bedside, full of life and emotions he didn’t see coming.

  teru blinks once, twice, a few more before he manages to get his vision to straighten out enough to get a clear image of akane. 

  ( how do you answer both of those questions, spoken in a voice raw with anger, with a no? teru minamoto may be a liar, one that dances around the truth and jumps through hoops to avoid answering some questions directly, but akane’s rare instance of worry makes him… )

  “ i’m usually not this weak, aoi. i’m sorry, ” he apologizes, sinking back into the bed and pillow. teru keeps eye contact with akane, a small lilt at the edge of his lips to brush off the ugly honesty he’ll hand over (even if he’s certain the other knows exactly how he’ll answer). “ if i was at my best, even if the supernatural is as powerful as it seems… i would have given my life to defeat it without hesitation. ”

  family duty over everything else. its how he was brought up and even as the bile in his stomach reminds him that kou feels the same and the unabashed rage he felt hearing it out of his younger brother’s mouth, teru will speak it freely. he’s strong, the one his siblings look up to, an exorcist with the years of practice at his hand and the unwavering will to purge the near shore of those that lurk out of sight.

  “ … i won’t ask you to do the same. ”

  it’s courtesy. akane’s a supernatural, but there’s that hard block of how the red rose on his cheeks and how the sun hits him that brings such a distinctly human feeling to his vice president that teru can’t find it in him to go about this like any other day. the bracelet on his wrist remains still, sliding only when teru reaches over to give akane a pat on the head.

  “ thank you for getting me out of there, aoi. ”

        Weak.

        Akane understands the idea infused in Teru’s words, but not its execution. Here he is yelling to a boy a year older than him, surrounded by the morning mist and swathed in layers of bandages. The words flow out and provide a layer of protection, filling in the gashes and wounds opened up prior. They help a boy who is weak: an exorcist who has failed his family’s principles, a president who has failed to protect the student body, a teenager struck and suffered by the hands of a supernatural.

        That is its execution. Akane hears the words of spirits, who deem him ever so weak, wraps his head around the notion, and fails halfway through. Teru is weak and yet he isn’t. The boy wrapped in bandages looks vulnerable, assailable, as though electricity never binds him and blisters never grip the hilt of his sword. His words track with honesty, harsh as the blood spilt in a quiet, unyielding voice. And though that strange voice with that unusual sight makes Teru look weak, it manages to make him look as strong as he has seemed before.

        ( The Minamotos hold outrageous standards for their children. Akane saw it with Teru first, then his younger brother far later. They’re insufferable and self-sacrificial, like their death will be worth all the lives they’ll save and take away. Akane gets it—he does, he tells himself, he really does—but he doesn’t. )

        “Are you always like this? I bet you’ve never listened to anything I’ve said in council meetings,” Akane snarks, red still tinging his sight and words. It’s not an approval of Teru’s apology, he knows; it’s a lie of his own, something he could never say if the other was on his feet. “Your own life isn’t equivalent to some bastard supernatural’s! If you keep it up, then I’ll be the one who ends up taking your life.”

        It’s out before he can really reflect on it. Maybe one day, he’ll be right. Maybe one day, he won’t be anything near human, but a mere representation of the present, another heartless ghost as supernatural as they come. Maybe he will be, but now…

        Now, it isn’t worth thinking on. The sun takes its flight with ease, and its rays rise to meet the beads on Teru’s wrist, then his hand as it…

                As…

                        Hold on.

        “…What are you doing?” Akane shrinks for a second, but it’s not enough as Teru succeeds. A blank stare and another shade of red fills his face, as all he can do is look up towards the other’s wrist and take cover from the sun. His energy focuses towards the peculiarity of his actions and he tries—and fails—to decipher it all. It’s all… a lot, somehow, for one action, so much so that he hardly registers the words following it.

        “I…” The words are absent from his mind, but he finds them in time. “It’s nothing. I was just doing what I had to.”

  if not for his attempt at continuing the fight moments before losing consciousness, teru would have been hit harder by the burning sense of shame in his stomach. even now, while he drifts back to the surface and shifts somewhat under the sheets of the infirmary, he can only begin to wonder how such a minor change could bring his ruin. teru’s eyes remain half-lidded under the harsh lights of the room, searching to find a familiar anything to grasp.

  akane’s voice is the first and he’s careful to turn to him. his mouth opens and it’s all dry, every word that wants to come out is like dust and he closes it again and tries to swallow. each inch of his body is sore and teru squeezes his eyes shut in a weak attempt at banishing the mind-numbing ringing in his ears and the headache from his temples.

  ( consistency remains and, like with everything else today, he fails. )

  “ … so i did. ”

  teru’s voice scratches his vocal cords and he winces. how long was he out? he tries opening his eyes further, grimacing when his vision doesn’t straighten itself out into a clear picture. how hard could he have been thrown against those stage lights?

  it all feels far too blurry right now, like a fog that’s descended over the darkness and covered the matter. teru recognizes his mistakes, knows of what he could have done better and the steps, but the story acts like an old book with pages torn from it in these moments.

  he’ll ask akane later. for now…

  teru works on shimmying himself into a sitting position, hissing as some of his wounds flare up in response to the movement. he briefly examines the bandages and rests back against the pillow, gaze drifting to his hands as opposed to the boy by his bedside.

  ( would kou be disappointed in him? would the elder brother he’s respected all this time, the one he stood up to with such strong conviction that, despite it all, teru couldn’t do much aside from back down? would that boy he’s inspired and hoped to lead see that maybe he isn’t much after all?

  teru doesn’t know. kou will learn what happened soon enough– if he didn’t while he was asleep– and the moment of truth will arrive then. )

  “ … good job on holding your own, aoi. i wasn’t sure… that you could do it. ”

  ( ‘thank you’ would have been more suitable, but teru isn’t quite ready to take more hits to his pride. )

        Little, if anything, can compare to the drone of machinery, a constant versus the abrupt chirps and blasts of wind. The creaking bed overwhelms the ambiance and Akane looks down at the source, ignoring the compulsion to wince alongside Teru. His chin lifts from his knee, his eyes closely following Teru’s movements, and his hand reaches towards Teru’s shoulder. It lowers just as quickly when he glances up to Teru’s eyes and watches them glance away, their strain and his wounds all too obvious within.

        “Don’t push yourself,” he mutters, although it’s clear enough in the quiet.

        The sun rises into view behind them, shedding red and orange as it ascends above the trees. It seeps into their bandages and fresh wounds, piercing with shame and worry and exhaustion. In greater strength, it bounces off of the two of them. As it rises, Akane sees it envelop Teru the way that it couldn’t when the sun dawned and the shade swallowed them whole. Yet, the early hours don’t lessen the harshness of Teru’s words: as strange and generous as his words are, the sound of his voice cuts and grates in every way unlike a prince. And it’s not that he cares about him in the same way that the rest of the school does. Rather, it startles him; hearing Teru weak and guardless and everything that he isn’t only cuts into him further, adding another wound to his arms that’s unexplainable to all others.

        ( What will they say when the president and vice president of the student council are in ruins like this? They’ll see Teru’s seat open and his head asleep in a school room they would never expect to see him in, and take the time to give him gifts and wish for his health, and…

        No. What will they say about this and the auditorium? Will they know anything at all? )

        “Right,” he remembers, and he nods, but it’s stiff and forced. Seeing Teru in this state—it’s like he’s seeing something that he should never have seen. The words ring in his head and Akane grips the edge of his pants. “Right.”

        “…And you’re telling me that when you’re the one who almost died?” His grip is tighter and tighter until, before he knows it, he’s standing up and closer to the bedside, red in his hands and the edges of his cheeks as he stares at the other.

        “What’s the point of telling me to be careful and then throwing yourself into the lights? Were you going to keep fighting if you hadn’t passed out right after?” He’s hardly seen the boy in action and yet he knows the answer all too well. “You can’t just do that every time you’re up against a supernatural or you’ll just—!”

        The obvious answer slips his tongue. His hands rest, no longer white and red and clutching the ends of the bed but still tense and unsteady. His face is still as red as his own hair and it takes a moment for it to subside, the last dying in his uncracked lenses.

        “…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you like… that.”

“ oh, you mean my possession of yashiro-san? “

“ that can only be performed by the most lewd of mysteries, honorable number 1. “ 

“ do you have any plans where you’d need such an ability? “ hanako says with his tell-tale smile, stitched together from the shreds of only his kindest intentions. the specter floats mere inches above the ground with his hands held ever so respectfully behind his back, his calm hover easily keeping pace with the taller boy. the final school bell still continues to ring in the background, signaling to the students that all with no responsibilities on the campus should up and head home. the mystery has long since known the loud ring was only the predecessor to a much quieter home in due time, though amber hues still glance to the window, catching a second of little figures heading beyond the gates before focusing his attention back on akane-san. “ mmm… do you need to do something that requires that time continue as normal? would it be… “ here, the boy does a small wiggle in the air, eyes closed and seemingly deep in thought as his smile grows calmer. 

“ do you want to practice confessing to aoi-san … ? my, do you really think i’d fit the role? “

fucker.

( @necrodancing​. )

        “Oh,” Akane mumbles, “of course. You’re as vile to Yashiro-san as you were to Aoi-chan. Why am I surprised?”

        ( Well, no. He isn’t. )

        “But, no!” He starts again, pace quickening around the school campus. The armband tightens around his sleeve and the glasses twirl around his fingers. And, ugh, he’s chirping again, voice flute-like and piping just like the cheeky asshole he is. “I was just wondering. You’ve never done it otherwise, so I was curious to see if it was necessary or you simply wanted to mess with them.”

        That’s a lie. Every supernatural’s best interest is to fuck with the lives of normal human beings. Hanako is the least exempt from this fact. Now in particular that rings true, as Akane falls silent and draws to a stop.

        “I wouldn’t need to stoop to the likes of you to practice. You’re a little too out-of-touch with my own life to help, all abhorrence aside. Now, if that’s settled—”

        In one swift movement, he turns his head towards the dishonorable ghost and takes him by the scruff of his collar.

  the lights shattering sends a chill up his spine and kickstarts a ringing in his ears. has five minutes already passed? akane would never purposely cut their time short during such an important moment, especially when he himself would be in danger. teru narrows his gaze, blade at the ready as he traverses back into the seating.

  it takes a glint from a burst of lightning off the tip of his blade to catch proper sight of akane, to make note of how the shadows move and–

  teru stumbles only once as he shoots forward, clearing the distance in two large bounds and swinging. his blade connects with a more dense piece of the darkness, wedging the blade in and sending waves of lightning directly into it.

  “ aoi… be more careful. ”

  for all the effort, however… without knowing where the main body is, this is only a temporary victory. teru breathes heavy, leaning more onto his right leg and watching the enemy briefly retreat to recover. if he can spot where all of it collects in the limited presence of light where it gathers, then maybe… maybe…

  he can go directly for the source and destroy it.

  ( if not for how muddled his head continues to be, he would plan further. )

  a step, two, and he leaps. teru balances on the armrests of the seats, careful as he navigates and keeps his sword angled to stab forward. he stops, listens, and waits– before jumping and moving to form a lightning cage around where the source appears to be.

  yet, the directionless nature of the auditorium’s darkness plays tricks easily on those without the proper mental standing. teru feels the lack of a trapped supernatural far too late as he lands, one foot going out from under him as another force slams directly into his side. a gasp and he goes flying, slamming into the downed stage lights.

  the wind is knocked completely out of his lungs, pain flaring throughout his entire torso. his sword has fallen from his grasp and he doesn’t know where it is and he’s faltering, he’s failing, how can he recover from this and succeed–

  there’s a name on his lips and a gasp of breath, one hand gripping weakly onto whatever metal he can find and tries to rise up. lightning sparks from around him, a signal of his location, and… he collapses right back onto the stage floor, consciousness slipping and melding into the darkness around them.

        By the time Teru reaches him, Akane’s certainly been fazed—if the new tears in his sleeves and scuffs on his vest are proof enough. When that blade and lightning shoots forward, Akane barely has the energy to fall back, holding to the edge of an armrest to steady himself.

        The blade moves and the lightning fades from the air above him, and Akane stands back up, leant forward and over the nicks on his arms. Where that blade had landed, he had once been, moments away from the cut on the side of his neck becoming much more severe.

        Chalk it up to a wrong swing, one cast with rotten judgement in the heat of a surprise attack. As the blood drips onto his shoulder, he turns to where Teru is—where he had been before he set off again—and watches the last that he can find of him in the darkness.

        “…Thanks,” he mumbles—even if he can’t be heard.

        The lightning starts up again and he nears its domain, a gloved hand on the ends of the rows to steady himself. He watches, and waits for the killing blow, and…

        And…

        ( There is the sound of something strange and unnatural on his left. Teru Minamoto has landed, sudden and direct and familiar, just moments away on his right.

        They’ve made another mistake. )

        There’s a moment where every feeling and every thought gathers in his mind, stopping time without the need to freeze its hands still. Akane’s grip on the cold metal armrests tightens, and his heart does, too, as the words he ought to say fall farther and farther out of reach. Where Teru is—what happened—he’d only seen the wind and the darkness move, and the sharp clash of something on metal, and then nothing.

        He’s not sure when he starts to run, after that. Maybe it’s when he processes what must have happened, or after time freezes through the sleight-of-hand of the pocketwatch. The lightning crackles from the stage once more before cutting out, sharp as static, and Akane finds himself in its spot in little time. One hand, then the other, reaches out on the floor, eyes searching for any raise on the floor that seems off in the dark. A whiles away from the farther sparks is the cold edge of metal and the gold hilt that adorns it; in a dull, dimmed reflection, a few feet away, Akane finds skin and cloth and blood that hasn’t had the chance to pool.

        ( He’s done this before, in this same auditorium, just a little different. Before the chandelier lights fell and a precious life had been placed directly under danger, he’d taken Aoi in his arms and moved her out of harm’s way. This time—

        This time, the lights have long fallen, and the life of the boy in question should be more important to anyone else than to him. But still, he takes Teru in his arms, and before the supernatural of the shadows can move, passes it by with a long and hard glance.

        By the time that the present has caught up to them, the two are long gone. )

                                                          — ✦ —

        It feels like hours before he speaks to him.

        The clock keeper’s garb is long gone, replaced by Akane’s normal vest and cloth and fresh bandages over the scrapes and wounds. Still, at the side of the bed where Teru Minamoto lays, Akane leans back, one foot and knee pulled up over the seat whilst the other reaches the floor. He waits there, and waits, and waits—

        And when he hears the slight rustle of noise, he speaks.

        “I thought you’d just told me to be careful.”

  he’s disoriented.

  it’s not a condition that teru is wanting to admit to, but the lack of sleep is definitely getting to him. he trips up, stumbles, narrowly avoids attacks he’s certain he’d be able to deflect and counter in a normal state. the dizzying darkness is no help and the sounds of wires snapping and glass  shattering don’t help–

  wait… wait, that isn’t supposed to happen–

  where is he aiming?

  teru snaps back to himself as time falls to a pause, steadying himself between two stagnant bolts of lightning that are around him. the light that glows gently from them is enough to see his approaching underclassmen and the various cuts to his clothing. embarrassment is the first emotion at the forefront, lips turned in disgust as he finally recognizes the warmth on his arm as an attack that cut him.

  ( lacking sleep really does have worse effects than he thought, huh? )

  “ i… ” he begins, slowly tilting his head to look up towards the hanging lights. those were his sole strategy because his family name be damned if he allowed the supernatural to ruin it. yet, here he is, the distinct way the glass is broken and how they flicker from the lightning that shot through it.

  still, there’s a snap of attention when a solid minute after everything stood still that teru registers that second half of akane’s worrying. sure, it would be inconvenient if a supernatural killed him for several reasons, but hearing it out of the other’s mouth is certainly…

  … it’s not important right now.

  “ help me come up with a solution then, aoi, ” he responds, heading off to try and find his way to the sound and lighting board. it has to be around here somewhere, right? he… didn’t break all the lights, right?

  ( if he did, he couldn’t tell. there has to be one that survived, otherwise…

  otherwise, he might have failed. )

        There’s no reasoning with him.

        Supernaturals have never, never had the interests of human beings in mind—who better than Akane to know that? Even then, he can’t help but pause and watch as Teru walks off. He’s always agreed with him on the cruelty and danger of supernaturals, but…

        ( But isn’t exorcising them in this state a little too far? )

        Still, Akane knows, with the blood visible under the spotlights, that stopping is out of the question. The tenacity and drive of the student council president extends too far, especially here. Akane wants to do something—to pull him back, to shield a blow or stop it before it can even land—but his own strength and abilities only hold so much weight.

        Then Teru reaches past the curtains, and his line of thought breaks.

        “…Of course.” It’s all he can say as he passes under the frozen stage lights to follow.

        His eyes glance when they can towards the rest of the auditorium, tracing the last known area of the supernatural, the exit, and the rest of their surroundings for an advantage—but there’s nothing. The stage lights would have been vital: not just for the capture itself, but for the steps leading up to it. Without it and the lightning thrown around the room…

        Well, even Akane wouldn’t be able to see a thing. That wouldn’t bode well for either of them.

        Akane lags behind, but he still makes three-quarters of the way to the board in little time. Yet, before he can take another step to lessen the distance, he hears the rustle of wind, a fizz, a crack that isn’t from thunder—

                and time begins to move.

        He hardly has time to react before the lights fall and shatter on the stage floor. Even from the distance he’s reached, Akane turns back, eyes wide watching the glass and light refract one last time. The lightning begins to fade, and he hurries up to Teru’s place in the auditorium—

  does joe get that it’s a bit overbearing to keep such a grip on your partner doll’s hand when the guy’s only a year younger at best? yes. is that going to stop him from worrying that some obstacle will rise up and separate them, forcing them to remain stationary and possibly in danger while apart?

  also yes.

  call it paranoia (which it certainly is), but joe’s a bit too worried about getting ranmaru killed a second time to put much care towards comfort. he’s held gin’s hand enough times in the past, so doing it for someone else isn’t–

  well, okay, gin is an affectionate elementary schooler he has known from the start and ranmaru’s… his age and clearly not liking this. joe feels the last yank and lets the other boy go, letting his arm drop limply to his side. 

  “ that’s why i’m worried… ” he mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets to avoid impulsively grabbing ranmaru’s hand again. “ look, can we just… do one more loop while holding hands and then i’ll stop? i don’t trust this place and if a trap activates ‘cause we got too relaxed, we’re really gonna be in trouble. ”

  is… is joe using puppy dog eyes here to try and convince ranmaru? maybe. is it intentional? … debatable.

        What are those? Puppy dog eyes? Joe’s beyond simple worrying, and Ranmaru…

        Ranmaru…

        Well, yes, he does kind of feel bad, but—but, seriously, personal space and worrying can only go so far! He’s not even sure why he’s so worried: he’s got a life less important than Joe’s, but the guy’s trying to ensure they both survive… for what? Hell, even without the information he has, he can’t say that he’d have enough hope to believe that he’d make it out of this floor alive.

        But… if that’s what his partner wants…

        “…Fine,” he mumbles. “One last loop.”

        Ranmaru holds out his hand towards him. They’re approaching the end of this room now, and he figures one loop can’t hurt, especially with how fast they’ve gone through the rooms already.

@necrodancing​…?

  that is certainly the creak of his door. that… is definitely not a familiar person standing in the doorway. teru looks him up and down, narrowing his eyes and stopping the movement of the pen he’s using. he studies the other boy before slowly rising from his seat. 

  “ … how did you get here? ”

  it’s a genuine question laden with cautious, teru circling to the front of his desk to properly stand and face the intruder. the pen is still gripped tight in his hand. if he can’t figure out what akane’s intentions are fast, there’s bound to be a confrontation, right?

  “ more importantly, who are you? invading my boundary without a warning or permission is punishable, you know, ” teru explains. “ it’s inconsiderate to barge into the student council office without a reason as well. ”

  does he intend to sound threatening with that? maybe a little.

        Oh. “Minamoto-senpai.” It’s the first words that slip out of his mouth as the door opens and swings shut behind him. The abyss vanishes from sight, and Akane finds himself face-to-face with his senior.

        …Which is fine. Akane’ll be irritated for the next few hours after he gets hurled back and forth through the air, but at least he’s home. The student council door has always been a familiar one; after losing himself in a place that’s nowhere…

        Maybe, even if he could go anywhere, it’s the first place he would g…

        ( How did you get here? )

        It’s not the question that shocks him as much as Teru’s actions. He’s half-prepared to quip on the idiocy of the Far Shore and in-between again as he slips off a glove, but Teru asks another question and he freezes.

        What is this? A sick joke? Teru Minamoto doesn’t have a boundary. After all, he’s not…

        ( Why doesn’t he recognize him?)

        “You don’t need to do this, you know.”

        Joe Tazuna holds no mercy as he drags Ranmaru around the fourth floor. They’ve walked around this floor with the group twice now, and as a pair once or twice more, themselves. It’s a good thing that he can withstand this extent of exercise, but…

        Geez, how can his senior last this long? And how can they walk this far without a hint of progress? And—

        Ranmaru tugs his hand away to no avail. It’s trapped in that oh-so “crushing,” “amazingly strong,” ridiculous grip that his partner has. But, oh, they’ve passed by the locked gate… again. In spite of the futility of escaping, Ranmaru groans, and tugs away from Joe far harder than before.

        “Seriously, you can quit it. It’s…”

        Embarrassing, he doesn’t say. He’s starting to feel like a kid like this. It’s like being a kindergartner exploring a playground with a guardian, except the guardian is far more interested than their child. He gets it: he’s far shorter than Joe is. But does that fact alone need him to take someone else’s hand for an entire hour, or two, or more?

        It doesn’t!

  the way the edge of teru’s lips quirk in response should be enough of an answer. akane aoi isn’t exactly a person to mince words regarding his feelings; he’s been rather honest and open about his intentions and what not from the start. while it’s not much of a fond memory, teru does recall how akane gushes about his childhood friend to the point of monotony.

  ( a tragedy that the boy had to give up part of his humanity for her, but… )

  … no, it must be his tired mind getting to him to think more into this. akane is a supernatural still whether he wished to be one or not. this partnership to protect the students outweighs his pride despite how much he wishes the situation didn’t come to this. he’s a prodigy in the art of exorcism, an exceptionally skilled member of his family since his childhood.

  holding pity towards a supernatural, no matter how human their heart and other features may be, is taboo for him. teru brushes the thoughts off with a turn on his heel, eyeing the entrance once more as he fully draws his sword out. 

  ( the blade shines in the light of the sunset, far brighter than the reflection against the hilt offered. teru approaches the doors and raises his weapon to catch the beams as they hit a point on the door. )

  “ don’t hold me back, aoi, ” he warns, tone sharp yet quiet. his free hand travels to the door handle and he throws it open, directing the beam of light into the abyss. it’s swallowed near instantly and teru’s eyes shine as his sword sparks with lightning. it crackles into the building and, with a final glance to akane, he throws himself into the fight.

  there’s… the clash of metal against something, though whether that’s the wild attacks of the supernatural being blocked or teru ripping into the rows of seats is unclear. the static charge of encased lightning strikes throughout the room, echoing endlessly.

  all he has to do is distract it until akane can freeze it. it’s fine, even when the encroaching darkness manifests in what seems to be a spinning world, it’s fine.

        It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

        It doesn’t take long to find Teru: the crowd of darkness filling the auditorium can't subdue the shine of his hair. The lightning erupting around them only amplifies it. Gold highlights refract, scatter onto the walls, and bounce into Akane’s eyes. He squints as he steps through the doorframe, and watches with narrowed eyes for Teru’s movements. He blurs in and out of focus, and Akane can hardly tell it’s him: there’re enough differences to the last time he saw him fight.

        Maybe it’s the shadows speaking for him, but Akane remembers metal biting at his blood and electricity paralyzing time quicker than this. Maybe it’s because Akane was hardly well trained with using fifteen minutes to fight, but Teru’s spending eternity to contain it.

        He would blame the details he found earlier for his worried thoughts if they weren’t worrying.

        ( Don’t hold me back, Akane remembers.                 He tries not to. )

        From his position at the peak of the audience, he can’t pinpoint much else. When he does, he finds the gaze of the other, smothered by frantic blocks of shadow. It brightens and stiffens with each echoing clang; once, it manages to blaze, like a fire in the dark.

        A crack echoes through the auditorium. It stems from the stage and the performers, not the audience. And, as Akane looks up from Teru to the spotlight and curtains—

        Another crack thunders, louder than before, and the stage lights swing down.

        ( There’s only one time when Akane’s had to fumble in his pockets as quick as he has to now. )

        The end of the chain hooks around his finger as he thrusts his hand towards the scene. The gold pocket watch launches forward, and its curve finishes with the tassel on the end. The thunder disappears; only the lightning stays glowing around him and Teru. The only noise left is the last, sharp movement of the supernatural, just before time halts.

        The first thing he hears when all is still is his own sigh. It’s rough, long, and heavy; he hadn’t thought he had held it until now. His feet move before he can think. He ducks through the bolts of lightning, and when he reaches his senior, he bares his teeth.

        “What the hell are you doing?” he spits. They’re the first words he can think of. “Where are we capturing it if the lights are down? Or if you end up dead?”

        They’re too close to the stage lights, frozen above them like a system of stars in midair. Akane hadn’t processed that until they were next to each other. Even as the cost of all of this destruction will go to them to fix, Akane focuses on Teru instead, still burning bright under artificial light.

  “ so i’ve heard, ” teru muses, only half listening to his junior’s complaints. he’ll admit, they’re an odd pair to be wandering the school at this time when the students have generally filed out or gone to participate in after school clubs. his sword swings a bit at this side, his fingers grazing over the sheath and hilt as he walks. there’s no time to listen to akane when he needs to be vigilant.

  … akane talks a lot. far more than he’s willing to listen to and, if not for the situation, he would’ve left the boy dangling from the ceiling until he returned to let him go. as if to prove this point, he messes with it in plain sight of akane. 

  to state that he doesn’t wish to be here either would be taboo. his sense of duty and will to uphold the laws of this school in his own way pushes him forth, but… dealing with this during his normal resting hours is messing with him. there’s a weariness to teru’s face that he works to expel, mental calendar rewritten and taking into account how he can stay awake until he’s safe to rest tomorrow afternoon. 

  it’s fine, he thinks, the safety of the students is far more important than sleep.

  “ if i call this student council work, will you talk less? ” teru comments, stopping in front of a large set of doors and holding out his arm to keep the other from walking further. he narrows his eyes, squinting through eternally tinted windows that give way to yawning darkness. 

  he backs away and turns, pushing his hand against akane’s mouth and pushing him backwards around a corner. “ as for the supernatural… its taken up residence in the auditorium. it’s most powerful in the darkness and can travel through shadows. that includes ours, so i won’t be watching to ensure your safety. you’re on your own, ” teru starts, finger resting against his chin as if in deep thought. “ … past that, i can’t contain a supernatural like this as easily in a lightning cage. i need you to stop it so we can find the best way to eliminate all of its hiding spots or, at least, capture it in a single position. ”

  teru levels his gaze on akane, thumb already at his hip and the blade of his sword shining in the sunset’s dying light.

  “ are you ready, aoi? ”

        “It’s not supposed to be a compliment.” Akane? Admiring the exorcist besides him for anything? It won’t happen for another nine years—and that’s assuming they’ll meet again by then. After all, they won’t need to meet in nine years. Teru Minamoto might as well become the greatest exorcist in Japan, and Akane Aoi will be miles away from the shore that they travel now.

        The idea is a far cry from everything that’s come to mind prior. But Teru obviously isn’t listening, so it’s safe enough for him to do the same.

        Or, well, it would be if he weren’t walking on the wrong side of the exorcist to divert himself. That golden trim steals the light veins of the sunset and hits Akane’s eyes. He’d be blinded if his glasses weren’t cast away on a high shelf in the councilroom—something to laud Teru for now. But it’s still surprising: Teru halts as the lights start to dance on his sheath, and Akane all but walks right into them.

        If they hadn’t shone as the sun always did, he’d have embarrassed himself. ( It’s a pity, then, that they’re like the sun. Teru Minamoto is a terrible person to compare to something like that. )

        “No.” Teru should expect better than that. “The student council doesn’t need to meddle in the affairs of the supernatural. It’s us who have to.”

        He’s annoyed by the president’s remark, of course, but he doesn’t have time to say more about it. Teru begins to explain, as asked ( though, of course, he covers his mouth while he’s at it, ) and Akane ceases a muffled complaint to listen.

        Teru’s annoying gamble of their lives intermixes with a bold amount of expectation. It’s surprising to Akane: he can’t see Teru as anything more than a soloist, who performs his dance without effort or aid. At the very least, it makes it clear that Akane isn’t here for an uncharacteristic, illogical reason, but for genuine assistance.

        He should be fine with the idea. But he hardly likes it, nor does it sit well with him. The lenses have never been real, but they didn’t obscure the strain in Teru’s gaze earlier. Even as the sun ebbs away, Akane’s unfiltered vision only makes the particular details clearer.

        But he tells himself he’s not concerned. If the power and skill Teru has is the same, if not better than what he’s seen before, one simple exorcism should be a breeze.

        “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Akane frowns, expression filled with displeasure. It’s the same narrowed eyes and tilted, huffy scowl that he always uses to deal with Teru Minamoto, the student council president standing next to him in the desolate hallway. At this time, Akane would foresee himself with a pen in one hand and crisp paper in the other, filing away records and reminiscing over Aoi for another day—

        But of course, Teru Minamoto is not like that. ( That’s one of his and his brother’s greatest flaws—getting into things they shouldn’t, busying themselves with things beneath or above them. ) Teru Minamoto, a curse onto the Far Shore and those with their hand trapped in the doorway, is too busy as always with the affairs of the supernaturals.

        Of course Teru deems it better than school or councilwork. Of course—and Akane won’t deny it, he agrees—Teru would consider a rogue spirit higher priority than anything, lest it wreak havoc on the school. But, really—and Akane tugs at his sleeve in irritance—Teru could at least give him a break from all of this bullshit.

        “Asking me to help with some shitty supernatural, roping me in and forcing me to use this…” His eyes roll before their gaze lands on the council president, and he lets out a dry scoff. “Haven’t I told you already? I wouldn’t use it for anyone but myself and Ao-chan. Don’t simply presume you can waste it for whatever you like because you’re a powerful exorcist.” In fact, if it had not been for his blood, among other factors, Akane would have frozen time and ran off long ago. It’s a pity that that can’t happen now: it’d make everything so much easier.

        ( But nothing is easy with Teru Minamoto, is it? )