The Other Trickster

“Perhaps I shouldn’t. Or perhaps that’s wrong.” Wataru’s answer is immediate and firm, but his voice remains soft. “Either way, I still remain. And I would much rather take a chance than do nothing at all. I am absolutely certain of this.”

He wanted to continue, add on the statement that if he believed such a thing to be true, he wouldn’t have fought so hard to remain, but maybe it’s already obvious. Maybe not. No matter what, such things are legitimate concerns to Goro, and understandably so. But that simply gives Wataru the further drive to show that things will be alright—as alright as it can be in the afterlife. He has his own concerns as well, things he’d already given name to.

Nothing would come easily. He knows this, for such is the way life—and now the afterlife—worked, but this is fine. He is more than willing to stay, even knowing what he now does.

I’ve stained you with enough blood. Wataru can see Goro’s gaze lingering on his neck, a literal representation, and he’s certain enough there’s more behind it. He thinks to himself that most of the blood staining his body is his own, a reminder of his death and a manifestation of emotions that he lost control of, but that isn’t the point.

“You have stained me, yes. However, I am still standing. I am alright. And soon enough it will fade, if it already hasn’t.” 

There comes a pause, as Wataru lets those last words settle in his mind. Not knowing if it’s safe… a fear of causing harm, isn’t that right?

“…Human beings can hurt each other, at times. It is almost inevitable, in fact. But they can also push each other to move forward, can assist one another to heal. And so…” He takes another step forward, smaller this time, and shifts his hand, holding Goro’s palm against his cheek. “It is alright, to be closer. I’ve told you, and I’m sure you are aware, that I am resilient. If you are concerned, then I can prove such things to you. So if you wish to come closer… If you wish to come closer, even just bit by bit, it’s alright. It is allowed… rather, it’s… more than welcomed.”

You already know how I feel, after all.

Goro was completely bewildered. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. This wasn’t how anything was ever supposed to go. They were in Hell, so why would he be given an extended hand for the first time? He wanted to shout again, wanted to dissolve into blood and screams, but he also wanted…

He wanted to have a hand to reach back with. But his hands had never belonged to him from the start.

And neither had his face. A plastic television personality crafted for everyone around him, made solely to be of use to whoever picked him up. A blood-soaked assassin, hatred lined in every muscle, defining every movement. The black nothingness beneath them, the absence where the true Goro Akechi should be, was all that remained now that Wataru had already seen both of those. And yet he still pulled him closer, despite all of that. Still wanted to reassure him that he was allowed to want this, that it wouldn’t betray him or leave Wataru as broken as anyone who’d ever come across his second visage before.

Goro didn’t believe in it for a second. This was Hell. This was one in a long line of deceit, and even in displaying so much fury, he’d fallen for it more than he ever should have. But if this was Hell, if he reminded himself it was a lie, then… As long as he didn’t let his guard down this far again, it really should be okay.

Or maybe he was only justifying it to himself. He had no words left to speak, to argue any longer. He was tired, so tired of fighting. Goro suspected the taste of blood would forever linger in his mouth, if this was any indication, but he pushed that out of his mind as this time, he took the initiative and leaned in.

“Then I’ll stay,” he surrendered, his words barely a hoarse whisper. Wataru would only be able to hear them because they were so close already, but even if they didn’t quite carry, his next action would surely serve to make his stance clear.

The moment that last word spills past his lips, Wataru braces himself once again for retaliation. He said he’d keep screaming until his words were finally registered, he meant it, and it was perhaps a good thing his throat couldn’t burn raw anymore, that his voice couldn’t die too. He tells himself that he’s prepared, he has been, and whatever happened he could handle still.

But instead of anger, instead of the screams they had been brandishing at each other like weapons, Goro’s voice is quieter. Honest. And Wataru feels the anger drain from his body, replaced with a tightness in his chest strong enough that it felt like it would suffocate him. All this time he was trying relentlessly to get through, but now that it seems like he has, he almost isn’t sure what to do.

“I’ve said why I desire such, haven’t I?” His own voice grows softer, the anger he’d felt before replaced with something else altogether. “If you do not understand, or know, then I… can show you. We have an eternity at our hands, after all. But I mean it when I say I intend to remain here. None of what I’ve said was a lie.”

The sight of the blood spilling past Goro’s lips and down his neck makes Wataru want to rush closer, to offer something, but he isn’t sure what. He isn’t sure, which frustrates him until he registers that there are a thousand desires brimming within his mind at once and he has no idea which one to chase after. He wants to figure out, but before he really gets the chance to, Goro approaches him, and Wataru feels it all catch in his throat at once. A hand brushes against his neck; he’d forgotten about the blood that had stained it from before, now wiped away. 

And he remains, as that same hand hovers in front of his lips, uncertain, before those last words fall out. His chest feels as though it burns, burning away his own uncertainty, filling him with emotions that seared and scalded, but they weren’t bad. Not by any means.

“…Do you want to know?” Wataru settles his gaze upon Goro as he takes a step forward, at the same time reaching up to take the hand that lingered in front of him to his lips. His cheeks begin to feel as though they too are burning now, and he hopes that, at least, is not visible on his features. “Stay. That is how.”

Goro was left with bare confusion, unable to piece it together with anger any longer. It was still there, lingering beneath his skin as he feared it always would after clinging to it for so long, but it had been startled away from the forefront of his mind with the force of Wataru’s hand. Even that, he wanted to be angry at, but given that only minutes had passed since he’d had his own hands around Wataru’s throat… the anger wouldn’t take solid form. He was left vulnerable, and without the strength to even blindly hate that.

“You’ve said so, but it doesn’t make any sense--objectively, it doesn’t make any sense. You shouldn’t want to be here. You’re taking chances for what’s beneath a mask, but what if what’s underneath is a black hole?”

He knew that what was underneath was a black hole. Nothing, no one, with a dangerous force that risked turning everything he touched into nothing, too. Blood continued to drip from his mouth, and wiping it away didn’t ebb the flow. He would bleed until this was resolved, if this was any indication. Irritation flared, and then died. There was nothing he could do by getting angry anymore. Wataru stepped closer, took his hand, and he felt his chest tighten without the discomfort of choking this time. Was this really okay? Had he really managed to make himself clear, everything Wataru needed to see to make gestures like that?

“I’ve stained you with enough blood.” He moved his eyes to Wataru’s neck, where he’d wiped off most of the blood but there was still a tinge of pink, his fingerprints in a vague impression of color. “I thought I could keep hiding everything, so I could help and continue to hold you at arm’s length. I don’t know if it’s safe to be closer than that.”

I’ve already hurt you.

Then so be it. It wasn’t as if Wataru was going to relent.

“I do not, nor did I ever, say you were such things. I don’t quite think I am misunderstanding everything, either. These reactions aren’t simply brought forth by helplessness. There’s a myriad of things they entail.” 

He grits his teeth further, feeling anger bubbling at the back of his mind again with every word. There are a thousand words brimming behind his lips; why do you take me for such a fool? Why are you going to deny things so vehemently? Why won’t you listen to me even for a moment? They are held back, exchanged in favor of words of retaliation, though he can’t stop the anger from pooling forth and melting in.

“I’m well aware that if I had known back then it wouldn’t have changed a single thing. And perhaps it would have been. Or perhaps letting me fall by the hands of the one who had so boorishly threatened me would have been better. But it isn’t as if I can find out anything now, for we’re already dead.”

And then Goro speaks again, volume rising once more, but that isn’t what causes the anger to start boiling in his bloodless veins. The implications that he doesn’t understand. That his words are empty, that he’s the one refusing to accept things, that he’s the one refusing to accept any truth here. An impulse rises forth, burning in him alongside the anger he feels, and he decides that there’s no use in fighting this, too. If words alone won’t get through, then fine. So be it.

Wataru storms forth, a fury in his gaze as his hand lashes out, strikes clear across Goro’s cheek. And when his own words start pooling out, his voice raises once more to match what was thrown at him moments before.

“I am aware! I am aware of what they were! I am aware of what you are! You are a killer! Is that what you’ve been waiting for me to say aloud?! Do you really think my words are empty even now?! Am I the only fool, in that case?! Fine, then! Perhaps the fact that I am still inclined to stay despite knowing what I know now is disgusting, and odious, and if that’s what you wish to think of me then so be it! You tell me I am lying to myself, but you are doing the same! Do you think I haven’t seen anything? Do you really believe I am that blind?! You’ve taken lives! Far more than I am aware of, I’m certain, and if the thought of me still remaining here despite knowing this is so abhorrent to you then so be it! But whatever you feel is far from irrelevant! You lash out at me, telling me I refuse to acknowledge anything, but what is it you are doing?! I am facing the truth! Right as we speak! I refuse to back down, and I will scream such until you acknowledge this!”

As Wataru continued to yell, Goro’s anger continued to mount, ready to once again scream back in his face that he was wrong, that he still didn’t understand, that if he understood there was no way he’d be in front of him and fighting to be allowed to tell Goro he could stay by his side, but he didn’t get to chance to.

Wataru’s hand met his own face instead, his head whipping to the side, and while he was certain the blood in his mouth had come from his throat, it could just as easily have been from the force of Wataru’s blow had they still been alive. But they weren’t alive. They were already dead, and Wataru knew what he was, and he was here anyway. Being struck brought up old memories and feelings, being talked down to and menaced, his desire to fight back versus learning when it was better not to, learning to keep his head in situations where he felt out of control to regain the advantage for himself. So this time he swallowed his anger and kept his head, trying to find reason even as he felt the blood pool in his mouth for the sake of facing everything he’d wanted to run so badly from, and he realized something.

Wataru hadn’t expressed regret for kissing him, either.

“I don’t understand.” He didn’t raise his head to meet Wataru’s eyes again, knowing he was already going to sound pitiful, but completely at a loss as he attempted to process everything without his ever-present anger. “How… if you truly do realize the truth of everything, why do you want to stay so badly? Things don’t… things like this don’t happen. You can’t just accept a killer, and not… not one who doesn’t know who he is without the killing. There’s nothing here to accept. I don’t know how you sound so sure.”

The blood pooling in his mouth spilled from between his teeth with every word, a slow drip that slid down his neck to stain the front of his clothes already covered in Wataru’s blood. Speaking honestly was worse than spitting anger, and he was too exhausted suddenly to even try to swallow back the swell, certain that he would choke even if he did. He was already unsightly, already beyond admitting some of his most dangerous secrets, already feeling the heat of Wataru’s handprint on his face even if he didn’t know if it could leave a visible mark like this, just feeling the place of contact tingling.

He approached Wataru, hesitating, and wiped off some of the blood he’d dripped on his neck before it could dry. There was no disguising the way his hand shook, but he was already showing a pitiful display, had been the whole time he’d been fighting, and he only realized now that the backs of his eyes burned with unshed tears, had been for how long now? But he didn’t remember how to cry anymore.

His hand hovered inches away from Wataru’s mouth, uncertain. There was no blood to wipe away here, but he felt like there should be, after any contact with him.

He’d expected that he’d only further Goro’s anger, and he was right. But it wasn’t as though Wataru had any intentions of backing down; no, it was more like he felt further inclined to stand his ground and push right back. It was far from a lie when he’d stated that he wouldn’t be devoured so easily, and if there were any shred of doubt towards the statement, then he’d simply have to strike it down.

Wataru watches, as Goro states one thing and his body contradicts it with another. He experienced such things for himself. The uprising of whatever remnants of their deaths clung onto them seemed to bare fangs the more distraught and emotionally disturbed they became. It’d happened to himself, when he’d finally lost complete control, it’d happened to Goro more than once, and he’s fairly certain it likely happened to himself again when he’d started screaming before.

He was a fool, yes, but not the type to be blind to such things.

“Then why are you having such reactions?” His gaze and voice become firm, unwavering under everything thrown a him. Fine, then. He’ll retaliate, if that’s the case. “Do you think I haven’t become aware of what causes our forms to pour out blood like this once again? I experienced it for myself, after all. I’m not quite the sort of fool you look to pin me as.”

Wataru feels his teeth grit at the statements; he knows now that there’s nothing he could have done. But it’s not going to change the past, whatever he felt back then or blamed himself for, because this is the present. They’re dead now, anyways.

“I’m sure there’s nothing I would’ve been able to do. And I’m certain that had I come to understand what was happening back then, I would have simply winded up feeling pathetic. Is this supposed to change anything? I was still aware, at the least, that there was something. Even if I would’ve known I could do nothing, that wouldn’t have stopped me.”

You’re disgusting. It burns, just a little. Maybe that’s not wrong. He doesn’t know, doesn’t really care right now. 

“Didn’t you say that you had committed such a terrible crime on my behalf? Hadn’t you kissed me in return? Yet you insist that I am disgusting, and that whatever interactions we had meant nothing. If they truly meant nothing, then why would you have even bothered to do such a thing for my sake in the first place? Perhaps I am disgusting, and whatever else, but I’m not as much of a fool as you take me for! Do you think it doesn’t bother me? Do you also think that I truly believe you thought our interactions were worthless? What would it have mattered, in that case, if the one who had threatened me went through with it? What point would there have been in taking his life? I am not an idiot. I am not lying. I will not pretend like I am not disturbed at the thought, but I will also not pretend like I intend to wither away from this! I am not as weak as you take me for!”

Goro wouldn’t back down just because Wataru figured out how to fight back. “Don’t misunderstand; if I hated every death, it was because I hated that it wasn’t the one man I truly wanted to see on the other end of the barrel, not because I was suffering some great moral dilemma.” Not mostly, at least. He’d made the decision early on that those people were collateral damage to take his father down.

What did that mean if he hadn’t destroyed his father in the end, though..? Now was not the time to examine such a question.

“Just because I am angry enough to cause this,” he spit blood at the floor between their feet, “does not mean I’m as helpless and distraught as you seem to think I am.” Goro hated it. Being given a way out of the actions he had taken willingly for the sake of the other’s image of him. That was what was so disgusting.

“I’m telling you that knowing back then would have been worthless! Worse, it would have gotten you killed faster. Or would that have been a better fate, do you think? To die at the end of my gun or someone else’s rather than in some sick stage show in a game like this? I’m afraid I can’t offer you that any longer.”

Wataru continued to make his argument, and Goro stared back, stunned. How could he so easily focus on half of the conversation so that he could make these arguments? How could he still want to argue for the chance to stay? When he countered, his voice rose again.

“Have you even been listening? That inept excuse for a magician isn’t the only person I killed or drove mad in such a way! Do you remember the mental shutdowns? I was the sole person capable of inducing them, each and every one of them was caused by me! And you’re so eager to turn a blind eye to that for--for what? So that it’s okay to want to stay? That’s what’s so odious! If you think you want to stay by my side, then face the truth about what I really am! Don’t tell me you could feel care for me if you think taking another’s life is so abhorrent, because I’m not sorry I did it.

Wataru continues to hold himself steady, despite the tinge of frustration he feels forming in his chest with Goro’s words. He was well aware there were things that occurred beyond his line of knowledge, things he couldn’t even begin to imagine, and he wants to retort that those statements are incredibly false, but he’ll bite his tongue for now. 

When Goro’s hands pull away from his neck, he can feel a wetness against them, can guess what it is, but the feeling is trivial compared to the statement that comes next, the grin that accompanies it. Wataru furrows his brows, remains silent again, readying himself for whatever would happen now.

But he can’t hide his reactions this time. As the words pour out, he can feel his eyes widening, alongside some sort of feeling in the pit of his stomach that he can’t describe. Wataru shifts through his memories as Goro speaks, trying to piece things together that match up with everything he’s being told. And he does piece together things that match up; a vague recollection of a staff member’s death and how peculiar it had seemed. A vague recollection of a face leering down at him, metal against his neck and a threat pressed into the back of his mind, only to find that face later to have succumbed to whatever death it was that met him. While Wataru wouldn’t say he thought the man didn’t deserved any sort of karmic retribution in return, something like that was… far too much, wasn’t it?

His mind races, trying to make sense of everything presented to him, feeling different memories creeping into his mind at the same time, and it was so much at once but he needed to put it together. It was unsettling, he wouldn’t lie to himself, but his mind pulls forth the mentions of he’ll deserve it from before. Pulls forth a recollection of a period where something was wrong, he could tell, but he couldn’t figure out what. Didn’t have enough basis to push for answers, but things like that make him wonder. Between his still-hazy memories, between the things he’d seen simply from the time after his left alone, from the words being said to him, it was–a lot. A lot to process, thinking one thing after another, but after a few more moments he gathers himself, drawing forth the steely resolution again before he opens his mouth to speak.

“…I see. I can recall the things you’re speaking of, even if only hazily. Perhaps I wanted some form of retribution for the one who threatened me, yet I will not deny that isn’t what I had wanted. And I do recall the incident within the school enough. That as well, was incredibly… unfortunate, to perhaps put it simply. But if I haven’t run off already, are you still under the assumption that I’m going to do so?”

Wataru’s arms fold across his chest, settling his gaze firmly upon Goro while he speaks. He’s well aware he’ll draw forth more anger, but if honesty is what’s wanted, then honesty is what will be given.

“I’m not going to pretend as though such things aren’t unsettling. But I’m also not going to pretend as though I’ve suddenly decided to run off with my tail between my legs like you are wanting to edge me towards. I’m persistent, stubborn, and absolutely a fool. You know, I can recall a point where I had realized that something was going on. Something that I never got answers for, didn’t have enough to push for answers, but I knew there was something. Was that it? Being unsettled, telling me there were things I shouldn’t see. Perhaps I won’t push forth in this moment now, for there’s an eternity ahead, but…” 

But I think I’m starting to form some kind of picture. He leaves it unsaid, moves past it, but the thought is there. 

“The attachment is still there. Along with everything else. I’ve never been one to care about what most of the world thinks of me and especially whether or not they agree with me. I take no enjoyment out of these events. Quite the opposite. But I’m still here, I will remain here, and I will tell you once more that you may push and lash and continue to try to disgust me or whatever else you may wish to do to lead me into turning heel, but we’re both aware that I am a thick-headed, relentless fool. And that fool has no intentions of giving in and running off even now. I am quite clear, am I not?”

Strangely, Goro felt a sinking in his gut as Wataru’s true reactions showed, shock and hesitant confusion. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Drive him off with his true face, even if he wasn’t sure how genuine it was after all. Did he have a true face? His need to please others, his hatred… maybe he wasn’t a person pinned between those emotions after all. Maybe they were all he had. But now Wataru was finally recoiling, and he hated that he couldn’t even feel vindicated by it.

And yet when Wataru stopped, insisted again that he wasn’t going anywhere, no matter how bothered he was by what Goro revealed to him, the fading anger returned alongside incredulity. He didn’t have to exist between those states if he became one of them.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I just told you I killed two people, even before this asinine game we were placed in, and you… why?! Do you really think there weren’t others? That I hated every death so much? Don’t be so goddamn naive!”

Goro looked down at his shoes, gagging as more blood poured forth from his lips, too much to spit his words around. He had hated them. He had hated every one, hated himself for not hating every one. The people his father wanted targeted were despicable, deserved deaths far worse than he gave them, in many cases… but not all. And he was well-practiced at swallowing down hatred, so whether he felt hate for his targets or for himself had never mattered.

“So you realized something was going on. Would you have been delighted to figure it out, then? That your classmate was an assassin? What would you have done? There was nothing you could have done but watched as I accumulated the blood on my hands! Nothing to turn me in for, nothing to have me from; you would have had that same pathetic look on your face as you do now!”

He hadn’t even fully realized what the words that spilled forth were, having spilled them out in an entirely incohesive state of mind. It isn’t until he sees Goro surging forward, until he feels a grip around his neck, words carrying a dangerous tone to them, that he realizes. 

Ah.

Wataru hadn’t meant to let them forth, not yet, but they had come out anyways, and there was no revoking them. He’d be a real liar if he did such a thing, after all. Wouldn’t he? And he’s startled by the sudden movement, the sudden anger that seared forth more intense than it had been even before, enough to startle him back to his senses. He remains silent, listening, widened gaze set firmly upon Goro as he begins to scream, shake him; Wataru wonders to himself if this is the catharsis that Goro needs. If he were still alive, certainly he’d have a more stark reaction to something like this.

But he’s not. Neither of them are. It doesn’t really matter how much he’s shaken or pressed upon because there’s no air in his lungs now to begin with. It’s not going to hurt him, not physically, anyways. And it’s far from any kind of ideal way to release such raw emotions. But like this, coming to terms with death, lost futures, the recollection of erased memories; they were volatile. Wataru had screamed unlike he ever had in life, in a way that surely would have left his throat more than raw if he had been alive, and Goro was losing control of himself in other ways.

He waits, until the last searing question is thrown at him, before his hands shoot up to grip Goro’s wrists, steel in his gaze now as he steadies himself to respond.

“Is this?” He repeats, almost feeling his voice wavering as his thoughts churn in his mind again, but he steadies himself enough to keep such a thing at bay. “I haven’t run away yet, have I? And I still do not plan on doing so.”

Wataru wonders to himself, briefly, what sort of hell on earth Goro has seen for things to be this way. For such vehement rejections of these emotions, of any intimation of care. He had pinned himself as someone who pushed away things, who hid his true feelings with a lock and key, but this was more. And in life, he was sure that he’d tried to understand. To offer a hand, even if it was rejected in the same way time after time, he would keep doing so. Perhaps if they hadn’t been forced into this deadly vacation, had been able to live out their lives to whatever extent, he could have done something more then. Somehow. Now they were dead, gone to the rest of the world, but at the least he could remain here now.

“If I were to revoke what I’ve said, that would make me the liar. There were plenty of things I didn’t know. You’re correct. Just as there were plenty things you knew not about me. They are quite stark in difference, yes. But I never stopped reaching forth, did I? I’m sure of that. If it satisfies you to do this, I have no breath to fill my lungs, so by all means!” 

It almost feels… odd, how resolute he is now compared to his mess of a state earlier. When he’d only just been found. Odd, but he’s thankful for it, because he’d much rather be able to push back with his feet planted firmly in the ground than attempting to do so on his hands and knees. Maybe it was because he realized how much he genuinely waned to reach out, even after death. That isn’t something he could do half-heartedly.

“Claim me to be a liar as much as you want, my words won’t change! I cannot force you to believe me. But if you’re going to ask me such a thing, calling yourself as such, then I’ll just answer you with yes. And if you tell me I don’t know you? Fufu. We’ve got eternity ahead of us, don’t we? Push at me, bite at me, claw, whatever you’d like–I already told you I won’t be devoured so easily. Why do you think it took such a brutal death to finally bring me down to my knees?”

Wataru’s impassivity with Goro’s hands around his neck only made him angrier, and he didn’t let go just yet even if it was futile. His rage didn’t end with any of Wataru’s words and actions, continuing to simmer and boil over no matter the futility of it. Wataru’s hands on his wrists burned, and yet they only convinced him to hold on tighter to his fury.

“You haven’t run away yet because you don’t know anything. You’re a fool who thinks he’s in control, who thinks because he has seen that he cannot view the world through rose-colored lenses, that he has seen the full scope of depravity of the world we live in. But you haven’t been in control of this situation from the beginning.”

Wataru’s hands on his skin, so close to where he could now realize he was bleeding again, came to be too much. Goro yanked his hands away, crossing his arms to hide the wounds even though Wataru could surely feel the blood that had stained him already.

“Why don’t I tell you? You’ve wanted to know for this long, haven’t you?” Goro’s grin was not the false smile he offered for cameras and searching gazes, nor the small genuine expression he had allowed himself on occasion. It was a sinister smile, the emptiness in his eyes only magnifying that this ‘kindness’ in sharing information was anything but.

“You think you’ll want to keep reaching, even if these frivolous emotions you speak of do exist? Do you think our dead teacher would agree with your decision? He was one of many unfortunate enough to become collateral damage because of his… extracurricular activities. But he was still our teacher once, wasn’t he? Do you even remember his death? The dramatic mental shutdown and murder that shook the very foundation of Hope’s Peak Academy! He might not look so kindly upon your decision to pursue me even now.”

His eyes narrowed. This was where he would drive it home. Get him away now before he could slither between the growing cracks in Goro’s armor while he tried to fuse it back together again.

“And what of your former rival? I’m afraid I don’t even remember his name, he was such a simpleton. So intimidated by your title, he couldn’t see your talent for himself, nor accept his own lack thereof. Yet despite his boorish behavior, I suspect you wouldn’t have wished him come to harm.” A chuckle, his mouth covered behind his hand in a show of false modesty before he showed Wataru a wide smirk once again. “I enjoyed that one. He was so miserable and pathetic, playing back the tape of him succumbing on live television was satisfying. Is this the person you wanted to know? The one who’d commit such a crime on your behalf? Does that attachment please you?”

Remembering that death still made him sick. It was a mirror of a plan he’d carried out on his father’s behalf, something he wouldn’t have been able to bear coming up with himself if he hadn’t already gone so far once already. And yet he’d wanted to do it. He’d relished in the mental shutdown he’d caused to protect someone he (cared about) didn’t loathe, and he’d hated himself for it. He’d pushed the entire situation aside after groveling to his father that it had been a case of accidental targeting and poor timing, a shadow that had gotten in the way of his actual assignment, escaping suspicion as long as he didn’t take such a risk again.

Now it was the fire of Wataru’s emotions that were being stoked by the words being spoken to him. Perhaps if he had a better grip over his own stability, he would’ve been able to stand his ground without losing control of himself once again. But he was still only recently dead, emotions mixed with memories that twisted and danced together haphazardly in his mind, and it was beyond his control now.

The tears still streamed down his face; he wasn’t sure if it was from frustration, distress, anger, a combination of it all. He wanted it to stop, tried to reign them in, but it was a battle he wasn’t going to win, and he knew this.

“And you think I sought it out to use you? Is that it?!” Wataru’s voice cracks underneath the pressure of everything. Nor does he realize he’s nearly screaming. “You’re right! I did try to seek out what was beneath! But it wasn’t to toy around with you! Or to use you, or to turn heel and stab you with it, or whatever else it is you think that I intended on doing!”

The blood begins to seep through his clothes again, dripping onto the stage, mixing in with the dried blood from his death. He doesn’t even pay attention, or perhaps he doesn’t notice it to begin with, trying to keep his gaze focused towards Goro. Like this, it was difficult–but he still had no intentions of running. He fights the urge to just turn away, but even now, he won’t run.

“I don’t believe that, you know!” Now he really is screaming. The blood seeps forth even more than before. That doesn’t matter. “I may be a fool in quite a number of ways, but I am also far more intelligent than that! I’ve said I never changed my mind, and that still remains the truth! You don’t see it, do you? What I mean when I say it’s beyond something as simple as merely caring! Because if that’s the case, then I’ll tell you! Yes! I was interested! I cared! I felt more and more, many things, and eventually I had to admit to myself that I was in love! You see?!”

He’s saying more than he intended to. Far more. But once again, he loses control over himself, words pooling past his lips just like the blood continues to pool out of the wounds piercing holes in his form.

“It was never any kind of experiment! It was me, reaching out for human warmth for the first time, finding more than I could have ever asked for, but it was not to toy around! Not to use, not to stab, wound, twist and turn, it was none of that! I would scream my dead lungs out for the rest of eternity to show this! So be it! I was never looking to take anything from you! I stayed and I stay, not for what I can take, but for you!!”

The coldness remained for as long as Wataru screamed, and Goro watched this newest debacle with impassive eyes even as his heart clenched. You idiot, it screamed, you idiot, you thought you could love him, that you could offer more than this, that anyone else would offer you anything, you know better.

But his conflict was hidden. He could keep pushing it down, or that’s what he thought. A hint of a smirk was on his face as he watched Wataru cry and bleed and scream, unable to hide anything, the opposite of himself even if he would be considered unusually closed-off by anyone else. It was almost like he really did care that much, like Goro’s deeply buried feelings would do anything but inflict more wounds. But now wasn’t the time to analyze why it was that Goro would only cause the greatest harm possible to the people who got the closest.

Then everything he knew to be true fell apart. I was in love. The mocking smile fell from his face as it contorted in rage, anger flaring once again, neither hot nor cold anymore, just blinding. Everything within him screamed before he could even open his mouth, and before he realized it he had surged forward, wrapping his hands around Wataru’s throat even before the thought crossed his mind.

“Don’t mock me,”

he threatened, both brands of anger present in his voice, low and dangerous. His hands squeezed tight even as his injuries broke open and bled again, too far gone in his anger to realize that they were both already dead, leaving breathing no longer a necessity. “You were in love? Didn’t I already tell you that if you were going to lie to me, to at least make it believable? You didn’t even know me. You had no idea I was like this.” He emphasized his words by squeezing tighter, the blood on his hands dripping down Wataru’s neck.

With every word that pours out, every flicker of appearance, Wataru feels himself growing more confused and more concerned over what this even means. The emotions bleed into his expression, unbeknownst to himself, and he feels his voice grow quieter, slightly, but still.

“…I wouldn’t be here, if such things did. And I’ve no idea who he is, but you…”

You’ve seen hell, haven’t you? But it doesn’t slip past his tongue.

Thoughts race through his mind, each one twisting at the knot that formed in his stomach. Something happened. Before this. Or maybe it was many things, perhaps even during the time they had all been classmates, maybe even long before that, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened.

A thought–no, perhaps a memory–strikes him in that moment; a stark distinction that he had been concerned, that something had been off, wrong, but he had been powerless to help Goro. He doesn’t know what, he can’t gather anything past bare emotions in this state of mind, but the feeling of helplessness unsettles him.

Wataru intended to speak up again, to simply retort once more like he had been, but those final words strike him unexpectedly hard. Your experiment is over. 

“…Experiment?” The question comes out as he sounds dumbfounded by such a thing, yet seconds later his voice shifts entirely. Louder. Every word he says grows louder. “You think I was using you as some kind of experiment? The past, the present, everything is just like that, a test? That’s what you believe me to have been doing? Toying with you to– to do what? What?! What sort of experiment would it be! What was I trying to gather, then? What do you think I was looking for that would benefit me through just experimenting and using you? It was never an experiment! Never, not once, did the thought of toying around with you in such a way cross my mind! I wanted to be there! I want to be there! I wouldn’t be here if I did not! Not because I want to experiment, not out of some selfish desire to pull something from you when I’m sure you’ve already had enough! I am here because I cared! I still do! No, in fact, there’s far more to it than that, more that I wanted to let myself admit because it’s beyond such simplistic feelings! I can still feel it! I remember shreds and pieces and I still feel it! And to just tell me I was only experimenting using you? I never was! I am not now! I never will be! I am an honest fool, I am stubborn, and I will not turn my heels and run because you think I am experimenting!”

Ah. He lost control himself, again. In an entirely different way than before, another feeling that felt as though it should’ve been long buried, resurfacing in the threshold of this nightmare vacation. His vision burns, hot tears running down his face–he has no idea when they started, didn’t even realize they were there to begin with, and he’s made a mess of himself.

But it was true. It was raw emotions, but it was true.

Goro’s face turned to stone when Wataru responded. Him. He’d said too much, gotten too out of control in his anger. Perhaps it is that, perhaps it is Wataru’s sudden rage that calmed him down. By no means was his fury abated, but it grew cold, chilling instead of fiery. His form settled, but the blood still stained his front in a ghastly display, revealing the limited extent of his control, the facade which turmoil hid behind. And yet outwardly, he only offered Wataru a blank glare, emotion draining from him to make way for a new mask, the same one he’d worn before his own execution.

“You have no ground to stand on, so offended by an accusation that is true. Or do you really not remember yet? You knew. You knew that not everything was as it appeared, and sought to find out what was beneath. You never found out, by the way. So it was a failed endeavor, at least until now.”

He sneered, crossing his arms again. He didn’t look so vulnerable this time, his chin raised and spine straight as he looked down his nose at Wataru though the other was slightly taller than him. “Do you like what you’ve seen? This is the truth you pursued for so long. A remorseless killer who never thought of our interactions as more than something to pass the time!”

He laughed, his thoughts still jumbled but fixed on ending this charade. His goals might be unmet, but he could be there to greet his father in death and be certain that his afterlife was nothing short of the worst hell imaginable, even without Loki or Robin Hood by his side. He didn’t need this.

The laughter died in his chest when he realized Wataru was crying. Were fake tears one of his talents? But he looked for the signs, and there were none. Wataru’s eyes weren’t unnaturally steady, his face was flushed, he looked like he was trying to restrain the tears, even. He hadn’t contradicted himself in his prior words, much the opposite, and now he was crying. What did that mean..? What was Goro supposed to do?

“I suppose it’s a good thing that I am not admitting any half-truths, then.”

His response was immediate, unwavering, even if he still felt twisted with countless emotions he had no intentions of backing down. Especially not now, especially when he was being pushed, especially upon coming to the decision that he wouldn’t ever back down, actually. Even without a decent scope on his memories, Wataru feels a desire to understand, to remain where it’s likely most people or perhaps even nobody ever had before.

Pushing and being pushed in return is always the way he’s interacted with people. And Goro certainly pushes, relentlessly, seeming to stab at anything he can, but something like that is better than going in half-heartedly. His own half-hearted initial breakdown didn’t give him the sense of catharsis he needed. It wasn’t until he fully let go that he actually started to feel better. And wasn’t this the same?

“Maybe I had imposed my views on others at times. But I never existed simply to take for my own gain and nothing else. Human beings are all selfish in nature, but each person’s selfishness is not all the same thing. I was selfish in my refusal to reveal my true feelings despite others revealing their hearts to me. I was selfish in thinking I could bear every problem I saw upon my back and think that it wouldn’t shatter me eventually. But if you really think that I toyed with people just to selfishly take anything I wanted from them, then I will tell you you are wrong.”

The exponential rise in Goro’s voice and the flickering visions of blood startle Wataru, and for a brief moment he is unable to hide such a reaction, eyes widening before he catches himself. The pull of his hair isn’t quite as unexpected, and Wataru’s lips part to speak again only for Goro to suddenly move back, speaking quietly, and somehow that is more startling than what came before.

 “…The only thing I am doing is telling you the truth. I can’t force you to believe me, but I am.” His own voice is quiet, but firm, resolute. “There is nothing else left for us in life, but I refuse to simply accept that everything becomes a moot point now that we’ve died. I will repeat the fact that I have no intentions of going anywhere as many times as necessary, even if it is endless. …I had mentioned something, before. Something I left unfinished at the time.”

Wataru feels his throat tighten, but he won’t deny himself the admission anymore. Even if he has the clawing urge to look away, he keeps his gaze held steady.

“The memories that flicker by and leave the most lingering impact on me… nearly all of them involve you. Not because I wanted to take something, but because genuinely, I simply…” He almost feels dizzy. His chest hurts. Don’t stop now. “I simply wanted to be by your side. Not out of a desire to take anything from you, or any sort of superficial reasons like that. I was–am–interested, not in what I could take or gain, but in you.”

And despite himself, he still won’t admit to himself the full notions of why, even though they tug at his mind just like the risky desire he’d gone through with. Even though he’s sure he would find it was what fueled such a risky desire.

Anger flared again, but that was unsurprising. An immediate refusal of his words, without even a shred of evidence. The nerve was astounding. And Goro was a never-ending font of fury--in truth, though he would never admit it to himself, nothing Wataru could have said would have calmed his temper now that it was unleashed. Even his introspection was sullen, and white-hot rage was easier than breathing through the blood clotting in his throat.

“Maybe,” he scoffed, mocking. “Selfishness is unending. What face it wears doesn’t matter, only that human beings are repulsive. The only solace I have in death is that one day the rest of our miserable species will join us! Maybe I’ll find out what happens when someone dies twice one day, just for the satisfaction of my hands wrapped around another person’s throat again!” His eyes flashed. “And doesn’t that appall you? Because you think, in your self-righteousness, that it even matters what happens to any one person! But when I erase his existence from all memory, he’ll deserve it.” He was too angry to realize he’d slipped into speaking about one person, flickering back and forth between the form he had intended to show Wataru and the screaming specter dripping more blood down his front and onto the floor of the stage.

No amount of showy anger could hide what he’d revealed, even if he conjured it once again, simmering with the threat of exploding again at any moment. “You don’t know anything. Stop talking, I already said I can’t!”

But Wataru spoke of things unfinished, of his time with Goro like it was precious even as Goro lost control mere feet from him. And he ached for it to be true, demanded for it to be false, choked up blood without even feeling it past his inner turmoil. I am interested in you. Those words weren’t so unfamiliar to Goro, but this was the first time anyone had meant him personally, not his skillset or what he could offer professionally.

He expected this. Not fully, but between all the gaps in his hazy past memories and everything he recalled from his recent ones, he expected something. That doesn’t stop his stomach from tying into a knot and fear from coating the back of his throat, and yet still he has no intention of backing away. Not anymore.

“You’re correct about that much, at least. I fought letting myself ever becoming such a mess for the entire length of my life, but death has a way of breaking people.”

Wataru feels his chest tighten again, not from the accusation that he had ulterior motives, but… such jaded views of the world and its occupants only comes from relentless experience with such things. He understands that well enough himself, will admit to some of his own, but Goro’s are intense, relentless, leaving Wataru to only wonder what the hell has happened.

“The only ulterior motive I truly have is the desire to push people forward because nothing happens living at a stand still. Lives don’t evolve living at a stand still. I do not push myself close to people for the sake of drawing things from them. I spent years close to absolutely no one, offering whatever I could just to satisfy what people wanted from me, because that is always what it was. I did not reach out to you to take something. I reached out because I was interested, genuinely interested, and not in what you could offer me. That is not something I ever considered. And if that is the type of person you believe me to be, then it seems there are still things you haven’t uncovered.”

The swelling brew of emotions he felt was overwhelming. Frustration, concern, fear, some he couldn’t name, some he didn’t want to name. Not right now. He can feel something burning at the back of his vision, but he pushes it back, swallows it, refuses to let it come forth. He’ll hold his ground. They’ve always pushed each other, right? He’s sure of that, even if now it’s much different, more raw, brutal emotions pouring out that can’t be handled so easily anymore. Death tears people down, as it continues to prove.

“Then how are we standing here? How was I able to rip apart the curtains? To reach out and touch you? Perhaps we cannot do anything meaningful for the living, but we can certainly do something meaningful for ourselves, because this is where we’ve winded up, isn’t it? We are dead, we are eternally held to this existence. By all means you may tell me you’ve lied, but when I’ve experienced the proof myself, I can’t accept such a lie. I–”

Wataru stops himself as Goro steps closer, a quiet startled noise escaping him as he feels the pull on his hair, and for a second he can’t meet that gaze. His stomach twists in the most uncomfortable way, the burning sensation behind his eyes pulsates, but once again he rejects it. He rejects it in favor of looking up, letting the burning become determination, letting his own features shape into a sort of grin no matter how half-hearted it may be.

“…You are quite mistaken if you think that I have been lying all along. If you want the honest truth from me, then I will only be repeating myself over and over again. But I am not so easy to devour; I am quite more resilient than I look. And if you think that I will turn heel and back down, then that too is a mistaken thought. I have no intentions of going anywhere. I am not here for any kind of hidden motive. I am here for you.”

Goro’s anger did not abate with Wataru’s acquiescence, instead stoked by the mixture of acceptance and challenge from the other. Did he think by giving in some ways, he could continue convincing Goro that the rest was true? He wasn’t that stupid, but it was impossible to tell what Wataru thought of him. He swallowed blood, refusing to cough in front of Wataru now that the other knew what it indicated, now that he realized the underlying truth.

“You can’t placate me by admitting half-truths. People don’t reach out unless it is to take.” Goro sneered at him, almost amused by the attempt to convince him as he ignored his dead heart beating faster as part of him wondered if it was true. It was in line with what he’d observed about Wataru’s character, the idiotic selflessness colliding with curious self-interest, but

he couldn’t afford to believe him, what if he did, and he was wrong?

He wanted it, and that made it dangerous. “Maybe you convinced yourself that is what you did, but it can’t be true. It feels better to be endlessly self-sacrificing than to toy with people for your own interest, doesn’t it? It was for their benefit, you tell yourself, and that’s the reason you did it. Right? To be stagnant is to die, but isn’t that really just imposing your own views on them? Don’t make me wretch, talking like that. You took what you wanted like anyone else.” And I’m so angry because I thought the same as you’re telling me now, and I hate being wrong, and I hate that I let myself be this vulnerable.

Without his own permission, his voice rose until he was screaming, careless of whether Daiki would be able to hear or Noah would appear from wherever he’d been hiding since Goro’s death. His form flickered, blood dripping from his mouth, from the ends of his hair, from the ends of his clothing, and then he regained control and stood his ground in rage alone. “It doesn’t matter! Who cares if you can tear some fabric, or I can scream until I knock over chairs, or we can cause someone a chill? Do you take such joy in being a poltergeist? It’s nothing of substance, and there’s nothing else left! You just said it yourself, people don’t evolve at a standstill, and this is as still as anyone can get.” He pulled Wataru’s hair again, half to prove his point and half just because he was angry and feeling petulant.

But Wataru’s grin stopped him in his tracks. He wilted, untangling his hand from Wataru’s hair and taking a step back. He shivered, crossing his arms and holding his elbows, looking away. He still scowled, yet somehow he looked diminished, his anger not raging so freely for the moment.

Whatever happens next is justified.

The statement rings in his thoughts repeatedly, all the while Wataru braces himself for whatever even comes next. He expects a lot of things, and yet the hand upon his face and in his hair, the feeling of a kiss being reciprocated even a little still manages to startle him. And he certainly won’t reject this, even though he’s fully prepared for that to be the end result, even though he finds himself wishing this could continue for much more–

But when he feels the hand in his hair yank him away with force and sees Goro rising to his feet, Wataru is startled for only a moment by the sensation, shaking his head briefly to clear his thoughts before he stands himself.

The accusations bring a pain to his chest, but he’s not going to admit that. He doesn’t even want to admit it to himself.

“…That’s wrong.” Wataru keeps his voice calm, despite the churning he feels in the pit of his stomach. “That isn’t what I wanted this entire time. For the past number of minutes, yes, but I did not throw myself into a spiral of emotions I would have kept permanently hidden in life and reach out to you just to gain something like that. Rather, I don’t have any such ulterior motives as you’re implying.” 

It stings. Of course it does, and he was prepared for it to. It was absolute risky desire that he gave into, and with risks come consequences. Wataru himself is not, by any means, what he would consider stable, but it will take far more time than this to reach such a point. That doesn’t mean he’s going to back down and give in, however.

Because that’s wrong. Goro accuses him, but it’s entirely off mark. He knows his own motives.

“What is wrong with me is how I continue to lock away emotions as if that will cease them from existing. But I did not simply act kind to lure you into such a thing. I acted kind because of my genuine feelings. I flooded out my secrets, poured out everything I rejected allowing myself to feel, and relied on you because these are my genuine feelings. And then I kissed you, because I–”

His throat feels tight, but he can’t stop now. He won’t stop now.

“…Relationships and feelings towards others are like chemical reactions within the brain. They do not simply go away. That is correct, yes? So even now, I am… no, this entire time, I’ve felt it. All that I have said, all that I have done–none of it was done to deceive you, if that is what you think of me. My mask had broken already. I will not fool myself any longer.”

Goro felt anger heat his veins where blood no longer flowed, unsure if his shaking was due to fury or anxiety he could barely admit to himself. Anger was easier. That was allowed, it wasn’t the weakness of fear stirring inside him, so he let his hand fall from his face and curl into a fist instead, nails biting into his palm without his gloves.

And maybe Wataru’s defense made sense, that he wouldn’t make himself vulnerable if he only wanted something from him, but they always wanted something from him, and he was so goddamn angry that he’d let himself forget that even for a second.

“Don’t get cute, you didn’t choose any of that. You fell apart like paper in water, no one is that pathetic on purpose. I just happened to be here to witness it and watching would have made me sick, so I intervened.” The small voice that warned him this was cruel was gone. In its place was only black rage.

“Everyone has ulterior motives. You just thought I’d go along with yours. That’s why you reached out to me in the first place, because I could tell people it didn’t matter but I couldn’t hide that I had no one else. And you thought that meant I’d be receptive.” Goro technically didn’t know if that was true, but if his memories were truly still so scrambled, Wataru didn’t either. And looking back on it now, with all of it leading up to this, a kiss wasn’t a dream so much as a nightmare.

He’d thought Wataru had been the first person not to expect something from him. It was part of why he was so intriguing. But he had wanted something and Goro had pretended not to see it.

“I don’t believe you.” Honesty? Genuine kindness? Genuine feelings? When was the last time Goro had dealt in any of them? Approaching Wataru like this had been a grave misstep, he’d forgotten himself and let himself soften when he knew that could never be allowed to happen. “No one is… people aren’t like that. If you’re going to lie to my face, you could at least try to make it convincing.”

Goro’s rage began to turn inwards as he became more introspective than furious. He had to be more rigid than this; there was no point in being this rigid when he was dead. He couldn’t let Wataru use him, even if he was telling the truth about his motives; it couldn’t be like that if part of Goro had wanted to relax into his arms forever and pretend their deaths didn’t even matter. But even if the anger was less blinding, it didn’t dissipate, and Goro didn’t back down either.

“Then you kissed me because you’re still the fool. Did you believe that bullshit earlier? Chemical reactions in the brain? We don’t have that anymore.” He almost laughed, rage and confusion warring within him. “We don’t have anything. I lied. We’re spectres in a world we can’t touch anymore, and nothing we could possibly do will ever mean anything ever again.” Nevermind that Wataru had torn down the curtain around his body, that they had certainly affected each other if not the living, that he’d wanted to believe everything he’d told Wataru even if it was only words he’d conjured to calm him down.

Wataru couldn’t shake the conflicting thoughts, the ones that continued to pull him in two separate directions, the ones making his chest feel like it was being squeezed.

One half urged him to give in, stop fighting his desires just like he fought everything else he’d been feeling so far. Be truly selfish for once, take a risk, accept whatever consequences it may bring. The other half urged him to stop, to run, even, because it was too big a risk. Too selfish, too overwhelming. His chest felt like it burned, as he held himself in place all the while fearing his body would move on its own and betray him no matter what he told himself.

He goes to speak, ends up beaten to the punch. Goro’s words wind up catching whatever his own words were going to be in his throat, and Wataru can’t entirely hide the surprised look that forms on his features. That–shouldn’t be anything startling, right? Wasn’t that sort of thing only natural? …He tries to tell himself such, all the while knowing he shouldn’t brush such a thing off so casually.

“I don’t think I would say it to be unfortunate,” he responds, a bit more quietly than he intended on, “for what are secrets, without someone eager to look into them?”

Ah. Goro seems–flustered, perhaps, something Wataru entirely understands, especially right now. He wants to respond somehow, but doesn’t know how, whether he should try to offer some kind of reassurance, pretend he saw nothing, bring up something else, words feel like they’re caught in his throat. His chest twists, thunders, burns, and he tells himself he needs to make up his mind, while wishing his mind would be quiet, wishing he could be straightforward with himself just once in his life instead of doing this to himself all over again. Wataru doesn’t know what to do. He’s afraid; he’s not afraid. He’s tired of fighting himself; he doesn’t want to let himself give in. His desires and fears crash with each other, twisting and fighting and making a mess within himself, and finally he decides he has had enough.

Whatever happens now, he will take it. Enough waging war within himself; if he’s going to go forth, or run away, then just do it.

Wataru tells himself this, as his body moves. Forwards, while there’s a thundering in his ears from a heartbeat he knows is not real. When his chest twists, because he decides that whatever happens afterwards is justified. His face feels like it’s burning, he can feel a slight quiver in his movements, but he still moves in closer to Goro despite the part of his mind that continues to scream at him to turn back.

He won’t. He doesn’t.

Whatever happens next is justified, Wataru tells himself once more, as he closes off what little distance remained with his lips. 

Ah.

Goro was still somewhat off-balance, but he tried to adjust himself. He had to get it together, to stop with this pathetic display right after he’d gotten Wataru to show his own hand. Was he so eager to give up every advantage he was gathering because he’d misread a few hints from over the years, was still misreading them now, and he was allowing himself to be weak? Absolutely not.

But instead of responding to Wataru’s words, he only saw him shift again, this time the movement not aborted. No, this time Wataru really did come closer, and half of him sparked with delight even as the other half burned with the desire to recoil, but in an instant it became clear that there was purpose behind Wataru’s movement. And he wasn’t being embraced again, either.

Wataru’s lips pressed against his, gentler than he’d imagined, no, he hadn’t imagined this at all, and ridiculously his first coherent thought was that they shouldn’t be able to feel this if they’re dead. Maybe he can admit, if only to himself, that he’d imagined this a little. His hands came to frame Wataru’s face, one on his jaw and one back in his hair again, and he pushed forward himself, reciprocating as little as he knew how to. His first kiss, and it only happened after he was dead, his unbeating heart soaring in his chest.

And then the reality of the situation caught up to him. He opened his eyes--when had he closed his eyes?--and saw Wataru’s corpse still on the table behind him, and he sat up fully and yanked, using the hand in Wataru’s hair to pull him away from him none too gently.

He let go as soon as they were separated, stumbling a few steps away himself and raising a hand to cover his mouth. He swore his lips tingled, how pathetic that he’d fall for some rom-com cliche like that, and he swore he tasted blood at the back of his throat at the same time.

He has to wonder how many times so far he’s felt things so incredibly foreign to him.

Not just here, no–he’s sure the sentiment applies to well before this point, all the way back into the memories that still remained a muddled, disorganized mess within his mind. It’d become clear to him at some point, surely over time, but it still startles him. The meltdown he’d had, the things he’d kept locked in his chest that he’d finally given in and poured out unceremoniously all at once, and then right now. Wataru feels something form in his throat, feels a heartbeat against his chest that by all means he shouldn’t, all from the simple movement of Goro’s hand and the realization of how close and warm this felt.

“…Fufufu. I’ve never been the type of human being who could just allow himself to open with ease and not tear himself to bits. I was not as I grew, and even without reign over my memories I am sure that remained true throughout those years, too.”

An unbidden thought urges him to move in closer; Wataru swallows the lump in his throat, locks the notion away in his mind. This is already more than he could–should–ask for, isn’t it? He doesn’t even have his memories, he’d said so himself, tells himself off in his mind despite knowing and agreeing with the statement that such things are chemical reactions to the brain. That it doesn’t just go away like that. But allowing himself more truly would be selfish. 

“Oh, my, in that case, have I become so easy to read? It wouldn’t do for this magician to be completely free of surprises… ✰“ He ignores the tightness that formed again in his chest when Goro smiled. Wataru lets himself chuckle softly. “Does it? …Then I am glad. Our circumstances aside, I am… relieved, if I am honest. Even if I’ve made a mess of myself in the process, being able to do such a thing is… what would I name it… cathartic.” 

It really was, though. Even though he’d fought it and made it worse, in the end, it felt better to have let it out than to have continued on keeping it in.

Goro was beginning to become agitated. He’d done it to himself already in this same conversation, but this was too comfortable, too close, and even though he liked it he barely suppressed the urge to ruin it. He liked it? No, that was a traitorous thought, none of this mattered to him. None of any of it could matter to him, not for real. He couldn’t have his revenge, but that didn’t mean he’d liked the classmates he’d been forced to spend so much time with at Hope’s Peak.

They were beneath him. He’d had a destined path set out before him while all of them, despite their talents, were painfully ordinary. So many of them used those talents frivolously or not at all, too focused on petty things like a normal high school experience or building friendships among themselves. And he had more than his talents, more than what any of them had, he had been chosen and given a gift--

So why did this feel more valuable than the press of power swelling behind his eyes ever had?

“Yes, that was true.” Goro closed his eyes for a moment, remembering, but opened them quickly, feeling too vulnerable without his sight even though they were certainly close enough already.

His heart seized in his chest as Wataru moved just slightly closer, but the motion barely went anywhere and then Wataru continued talking as though he hadn’t moved at all. Maybe he hadn’t meant to--the shift had been miniscule, barely noticeable if Goro hadn’t been so vigilant to any change, but for a moment he’d thought… No. Obviously it couldn’t be true. Goro’s perception was only affected by stress, as unfortunate as even that conciliation was.

“No. No, you weren’t especially easy to read.” Not compared to the others, at least. For Goro, who had learned to read people for survival, Wataru wasn’t impossible to figure out, but that didn’t mean he had been an open book the entire time. “It’s unfortunate for you that the Ultimate Detective was interested in figuring out your secrets, or you might have kept them forever without these circumstances.” The words were out before he realized he was speaking, teasing the way he hadn’t realized he could, and burning in Goro’s chest.

“…I do not doubt that it is.”

It was odd, how he suddenly felt inexplicably tired despite the state of his existence right now. The dead could not sleep, after all, but perhaps it was simply the weight of the emotions he’d been feeling tumbling down on him. Wataru didn’t need to dwell on such things, even if existing like this raised many questions. They didn’t require answers right away, nor would they receive any so quickly.

He’d never really considered that such a motion–the feeling of a hand running through his hair–would be comforting in such a way. But he had never really allowed such things to be done to himself, nor had he ever allowed himself to be so openly vulnerable as to give anyone a reason to even consider doing such a thing. Allowing himself to fully reveal that he did have a weak side, no matter his own claims, felt both unsettling and relieving all at once. And Wataru surprises himself with the thought that had this been shown to anyone other than Goro, he would likely have been feeling far more unsettled right now.

Was it because they both wore masks? Was it something he refused to let himself admit? Something else entirely? The questions pose themselves to him briefly before he promptly brushes them aside. That’s also something he feels no need to dwell on right now.

“Fufu… I would think so, considering that is what I am,” He laughs quietly, tiredly, feeling a brief moment of discomfort at the thought that he pushes down. It’s not like it’s a lie, or anything he’s unaware of. And he’ll have to accept it eventually. “I would have preferred to allow myself to show over time, under vastly different circumstances, but death certainly has a way of ripping apart pretenses. Though I…”

Wataru pauses for a moment, debating with his own thoughts before deciding to lift himself up a bit. He was sure the motion being repeated would stop though he admittedly didn’t want that just yet, but he wanted to stop hiding his own face and look at Goro. Surely, he was a mess, feeling the remnants of tears lingering upon his cheeks still, feeling the sheer exhaustion settle in his features, but he still manages a smile, albeit a weak one. 

“I suppose this magician really did make an exception for you to know some of his secrets, didn’t he.”

Goro was unsettled by how comfortable he was like this. There was no doubt, with his sometimes-hazy yet now intact memories, that nothing like this had never happened to him before. Embraces, hands in hair, being close enough to someone to feel their warmth (though of course, they were both dead, so they shouldn’t even be warm anymore). He had restrained himself from becoming eager to find casual touches between others in life, but he had been desperate for them, touch-starved even by his own actions. And yet…

Despite its unfamiliarity, Goro was content like this now that Wataru was settling down. He was angry, furious as the mastermind that would make his life something to play with and then toss it aside, furious that he was unable to complete his plan to watch his father suffer and die, furious that the steps he’d taken so far in his plan, the lives he’d ruined were all for nothing… But just as far as the present. He didn’t stop running his hand through Wataru’s hair, not until Wataru himself moved and his hand came to rest at the curve where his neck met his shoulder.

“I would have preferred for you to allow yourself this without tearing yourself apart. But this is okay, too.” Goro wondered when he had learned to be this gentle; certainly nothing in life had ever taught it to him. He lifted his hand again, wrapping some of Wataru’s hair around his fingers, and he smiled back at Wataru. Don’t ruin it just because you don’t know how to be happy.

Wataru wanted to retort, say that this is different than just witnessing something, but he’s still jumbled enough that he simply lets it go. There’s no use making a fuss out of something when it didn’t really matter now anyways. The blood was already there.

It felt almost… cathartic, to cry, when it was a luxury he rarely ever allowed himself to have in life. Slowly he feels himself coming back together; not repaired, not by any means, but at least piecing himself back together, albeit incredibly haphazardly. Regaining himself entirely isn’t going to happen so quickly. For either one of them, he thinks, but he lags slightly behind (or perhaps much more).

Intending to speak up again, Wataru’s lips parted, but what comes out instead is a quiet, almost started noise at the sudden feeling of a hand through his hair. It’s not unwelcome, far from it, and there’s a part of him registering a concern that Goro would hear the sound and take it as a sign of rejection or discomfort. It was just–he’d been caught off guard. Hadn’t expected that.

( but it helped. )

“…Is that so…” Wataru mumbles, after giving himself some time to ease down from the total mess he’d been some moments ago. At least he feels himself in a bit of a clearer state of mind, still absolutely a mess, but he’d take this over the incomprehensible state he was in minutes prior. Somehow, though, that–between the hand running through his hair, and hearing that, hearing I think I prefer you as you are, he felt like his heart was thundering again, but this time it wasn’t caused by fear. 

“I–” He clears his throat now, trying to rid his voice of the cracked tone, but also feeling a sort of embarrassment rising within himself. Perhaps if he had a wider scope of his memories, he could make better sense of this (or maybe he already understands, but won’t allow himself to admit it). Wataru allows himself to shift closer to Goro, just slightly, before he speaks up once more. “I… suppose you’re right. I certainly wouldn’t be the same, and even if I don’t have a clue how I would have ended up differently, in what ways, somehow… hearing you say that, preferring me as I am, I feel… happy, like that.”

He could tell he was in a more coherent state of mind considering saying such words embarrassed him, but since he’d laid bare much more than he’d ever imagined he would since the moment Goro first entered the room, there wasn’t much point in rethinking things now. He’d just been in the midst of a breakdown, still technically was, but at least he was easing down from it. But it was still… a lot? God, he didn’t know.

“…I don’t want to begin to consider how much of a disaster I must appear to be right now,” Wataru lets out a dull, tired laugh as he speaks, “But I… I should have allowed myself to let go sooner, instead of waiting until I could no longer hold myself in control. You still… bore with it, though, you still are, and I… I don’t know how to express my gratitude, but I truly…”

I am truly thankful you’re the one by my side.

Goro heard Wataru’s startled sound and paused, his hand at the back of the other’s head. But when Wataru did nothing else, he started again, slower, still hesitating. He was sure that no one had ever done such a thing to him before, so perhaps it was a movie he learned it from. A comforting gesture, where his words felt all too empty and for once he wished they would have substance. He had no substance to him to put forth beneath his words, only emptiness behind his masks, but he had his hands, even ghostly and broken as they were.

“It’s the truth,” he repeated. Even if his words were empty, he did feel like he was telling the truth for once in his life. In his death. At least Wataru seemed to be calming. He lay in the canyon between relief that Wataru would be okay and disdain that he had become so vulnerable in front of Goro, wanting to admit to neither. And yet he allowed Wataru to shift closer, continuing the motion of his hand in Wataru’s hair.

“If it makes you happy, then I’m doing what I came here for.” His purpose wasn’t strictly to make Wataru happy, saying such would make the back of his throat tingle (with disgust or blood, he couldn’t say). But it was close enough to pass for such. And it was calming him down.

“I’m sure if I sat up you’d look like death,” Goro quipped, immediately wondering if he should regret it. Wataru was certainly fragile, but then he should make peace with what they were so that he couldn’t break under the pressure anymore. “I told you, I was trapped here myself. I’m grateful that you’d allow me to see this side of you, and to try to help you. You don’t need to express anything else if you don’t want to.” Suddenly, Goro didn’t want to be thanked. A lifetime spent chasing acknowledgment, and the thought of being thanked for this sat heavily in his chest. Maybe it was just because he would have loathed anyone seeing his own display of brokenness, but even if he couldn’t refuse such a sentiment as vehemently as he wanted to without raising suspicion, he wanted to at least pass it by.

Even in the midst of his distressed state of mind, of finally letting go and allowing himself to come undone, Wataru was thankful. That he wasn’t here alone. He didn’t have the mind to worry about his own appearances or anything like that at all, but at the least, there was a part of him that was grateful to not be writhing alone, that Goro was the one here with him.

Maybe he could have expressed that somehow, if he hadn’t spiraled downwards again.

He tried to tell himself that it was nothing. That he was dead, whatever this was wouldn’t be able to hurt him more, but it was futile. The panic still seared through his mind, the pleading expression reflected in his eyes because he didn’t know what to do. Wataru had never let himself look so vulnerable before–another reason to be thankful he was in no mind to care about appearances, perhaps. 

When Goro pulls him into an embrace, Wataru’s mind races wildly. He’s thankful; he wants to ask why, you’re going to be covered in my blood, is that what you want; he wants to apologize.

But he doesn’t know what to do. What he wants to do, even. He remains still, startled, but listening, until finally his body moves, and he returns the embrace. Even though his arms are shaking, or perhaps all of him is.

“You already–” Wataru’s voice feels like it’s cracking more, but there’s so many emotions he can’t even register like this. Being dead certainly takes a toll on you, doesn’t it. “already helped me. You are. Just by… staying here, even though you’re… you’re being covered in my…”

He can’t finish that sentence. Saying you’re covered in my blood out loud makes it feel worse.

“…I could have done things differently, you know! I was the one who turned myself inhuman and drifted off and let myself keep pretending like I couldn’t be hurt and look at me now! I made a mess of myself because I never admitted to anything if it could hurt me, not even my own feelings, just because I wanted to keep the perfect mask in place and I–! I’ve…”

His voice falters. Arms tighten around Goro, Wataru’s face hides in his shoulder and he finally decides to allow himself to just cry. Or maybe he simply can’t keep it at bay anymore. But he does not try to control it, does not try to keep up appearances. He simply lets go.

Just like everything else about him became undone, this does, too.

Goro was completely out of his element, and he couldn’t deny the part of him that wanted to scoff stand on your own feet, I had to, don’t be pathetic, but if he intended to enforce that he wouldn’t have entered the room in the first place. Wataru’s anger at himself was as intriguing as it was useless; rather than refusing responsibility for his own faults, pushing blame on others for every imperfection as most people did whether consciously or not, Wataru took on culpability to a fault.

An honest fool. Goro wondered how it was the world hadn’t eaten him alive, chewed him up and spat him out a broken, useless thing, what resilience he had to have for it to take a sadistic execution to reduce him to this, when even his defenses left him so vulnerable to a world that would take advantage of them. No, he didn’t think he’d been wrong to call him that, they’d merely used two different meanings of the word honest.

“Don’t worry about the blood. You just watched me vomit it myself a few minutes ago.” He wasn’t sure how much he believed about his presence helping, but he wouldn’t argue over it when it was to his benefit to accept it.

“You could have. You could have admitted your vulnerabilities to anyone who would listen. And maybe it would have changed things… or maybe it wouldn’t have. We aren’t capable of traveling to the past to find out.” Goro paused. He only sometimes believed in fate, and something told him Wataru didn’t, or at least wouldn’t right now. Reassurances based on fate would feel empty, anyway.

As Wataru cried, he moved a hand to run through his hair, a gesture he himself was bewildered at. Where had he learned that? Well it was probably soothing, right? Or perhaps it was just weird. It would probably be stranger if he suddenly stopped right after he started, though. Leave it to Goro to stumble when trying to do something most people wouldn’t have to think about.

“If you had done things differently, you wouldn’t be the same person. And that…” It was always harder for Goro to be kind than cruel. “I think I prefer you as you are.”

Perhaps if he were in any cohesive state of mind, Wataru would feel the weight of regret forming upon his shoulders. Regret because he had told himself he wanted to unchain himself from this spot, get them both out of here, yet he continued to suppress nearly everything he needed to let loose. Regret because he recklessly shoved those things behind a gate, trying to keep his own mask in place for some foolish reason, and subsequently caused everything to come out like a dam that could no longer withhold the water, instead of a trickle of emotions that perhaps he could’ve handled much better.

Now the mask had shattered irreparably, he felt nothing like the self he put forth so long, the one he knew and felt secure in, only reduced to a mess of rapidly swirling emotions that took every thought in his head and shook them until it was all a cocktail for disaster.

The sound of a false heartbeat thunders in his ears, and coupled with the thoughts in his mind drowned out everything around him. He didn’t realize there was blood pooling down his body, didn’t even realize Goro had chased after him until his gaze is ripped away from his own corpse without warning. Perhaps if he were in a decent state of mind Wataru would care far more about being seen with such an unsightly expression plastered on his face, about being seen looking so desperately unhinged and tear-stained and the polar opposite of what he wanted to be.

Perhaps it’s a good thing he doesn’t have the mind to care about that right now.

“I shouldn’t have hid anything to begin with!” His voice cracks, just like his mask, and riddled with desperation and panic and helplessness. “What’s the point of acting as though nothing bothered me at all even now when I’m dead!? When I can see my own corpse and my own blood painting everything that’s around me?! Even before I went and destroyed any hope of having a living future I still tried to act like nothing could bother me but it all did! I kept– I kept remembering what had happened and feeling things I couldn’t understand and still tried to act as though it were alright! Am I even an honest fool when I cannot even seem to be honest with my own self?!”

Don’t punish yourself for it, Goro tells him, and Wataru lets out a sound mangled in between a sob and a laugh.

“I don’t even have to do such a thing willingly! I’m already doing it without even meaning to! I’ve already been punished by bringing my own death and losing every fragment of a living, breathing future I could’ve possibly had! I found somewhere to belong, it was taken and killed, and then I hammered the nails in the coffin with my own two hands! I did– that…”

Wataru hadn’t realized his body was reacting to his outburst as well, until his hands pressed against his chest as he spoke and felt wet. No. What? No, no. 

He pulls them back, looks down at his hands. They’re bloody, just like his entire front. Seeping through his clothes onto the floor, looking like too much even though he’s already dead and his death had already drained everything from him to begin with but maybe that’s why he looks like this–

Panic swells in him, the reasonable part of his consciousness had already been missing, he’s dead but it’s still unsightly, terrifying. His legs feel like they’re going to give way; rather, they do, and he simply crashes backwards onto the floor unceremoniously, unsure of everything. Wataru finds himself looking back up to Goro, words not passing his lips but the words help reflected clearly, unwillingly, in his gaze.

“We all have our masks,” Goro said, sounding more grave than he intended. He should be glad Wataru was otherwise occupied and likely wouldn’t notice. “Sometimes they merely remain out of habit; that doesn’t make it your fault that you feel this way.” Goro wasn’t practiced at this. He didn’t know the right words to say to make anyone feel better, let alone right after they had been killed so brutally.

“Perhaps I was wrong to call you an honest fool. But that does not make you lesser. You’re…” He had the sudden urge to say everything, the urge to say nothing, the urge to move his hands and walk away, but he remained firmly rooted. “You want to raise others up to a fault, and you don’t hide your intentions in that. You are honest by the honorable definition. It is that honor I called you a fool for.” He smiled. “And...maybe I really was wrong for that.”

He frowned as Wataru continued. “I told you, I won’t allow it. It was the mastermind who took your life, not you who gave it away.”

But he couldn’t say anymore as Wataru realized the reaction his body had to his distress, the blood seeping from his wounds, and he recoiled and then fell. Goro lost his hold on him, but when their eyes met and he saw the depths of emotion Wataru could no longer hide, his own legs felt weak.

He’d never known what it was to have someone depend on him before, either. It surprised him that it was nothing to kneel down to Wataru’s level, though he still hesitated to make further contact. After so long without it, the part of him that craved it warred with the part of him that recoiled from it, but he was trying not to think of his own setbacks at the moment.

It had been warm, when they’d embraced before. That’s what he focused on as he pulled Wataru into his arms. His whole front felt soaked in seconds, but he knew when he pulled away there would still be no stain, just as the blood he’d been choking on hadn’t stained him either. And this way Wataru could neither look at his own blood nor see his expression.

And even with the extenuating circumstances, it was still warm.