#iixvai

Probably, the fight is already over and Aoba is off with those yakuza-looking guys, or sleeping with Koujaku, or already getting drunk on ice-cold beer. Probably he has forgotten all about his trapped and miserable brother. By the time Sei catches up with him, Rhyme will be over for the night, and he might well have to drag Aoba home and tend to his hangover.

Sei taps his pencil on his desk nine times: three short, three long, three short again. SOS, the international Morse code signal for distress. As usual, if anyone hears it, they don't bother to come save him.

Sei sighs. He can tell you who invented Morse code (three Americans, though Samuel Morse is the only one anyone remembers). He knows the year it was first used (1844), as well as the content of the first message sent (What hath God wrought – a good question, Sei thinks). He can use it to communicate, although the only word he knows other than SOS is ass (one short, one long, six more short). He can say a lot more than ass in three languages, get any Allmate up and running as long as the hardware's intact, solve for x in all sorts of equations, and remain undefeated in Rhyme for five years straight. Yet everyone from Granny to his teachers apparently think that he isn't dedicated enough to school in order to graduate. He should have just dropped out as soon as he had the chance, like Aoba.

The door swings open at last, drawing Sei's attention. The tutor stumbles through, looking a little red-faced, his school uniform rumpled. Sei thinks again of Aoba and Koujaku in bed together, and he feels himself blush.

“Sorry,” the tutor mutters, without sounding a bit like he means it. He strides forward with an armful of books, which he dumps unceremoniously onto the desk next to Sei. Then, with more caution, he removes a folded sheet of paper from inside the cover of one text. Without bothering to introduce himself, he says, “We'll start with a pre-test to figure out the gaps in your knowledge.”

Sei nods slightly, poising his pencil and watching the tutor while he waits for the test to be placed in front of him. The tutor is younger than Sei, but then, so are all of Sei's classmates. He's white, with blonde hair; perhaps an exchange student, though he speaks with no accent. He's out of breath, and there are pinprick holes in his face where piercings might go, when he's off school grounds. That part is intriguing, at least.

The tutor hands over the test paper, which is thick, bound together by a staple that barely holds. Sei flips through it and sees that it's written much like a university exam, with sections on each topic high school students are required to take, from history to grammar to mathematics. Sei notes that his elective subjects are included as well: Mandarin, statistics, Heian era literature. The tutor has done his research.

Sei glances at him again out of the corner of an eye. He has settled down to browse something online, his Coil screen angled away so Sei can't peek at it. Well, that's not so bad. At least Sei won't have to endure a long speech about the importance of education, or the societal ramifications of lacking it. He can move at his own pace.

He starts in on the test, penciling in answers quickly. The standardized subjects bore him. Either he knows the answers instantly, or he knows he doesn't know them, so there's no sense in trying. He flips through page after page as the minute hand winds around again and again. The afternoon grows warmer as the sun angles itself through the classroom window; Sei's hair sticks to his forehead, and the cicadas outside sing.

Not once does the tutor look at him. Whatever's on that Coil must be fascinating.

Once he reaches the elective section, Sei almost begins to enjoy himself. The Heian literature questions in particular are like revisiting fond memories. He'd first signed up for the class because he heard that the teacher was forgiving, and didn't count attendance into the final grade. Then a few weeks into the first term, he'd come across an author who shared his name: Sei Shonagon, better known as Lady Sei. It turned out that Lady Sei was a contemporary of Lady Murasaki, author of The Tale of Genji, which was widely known as the world's first novel. Both were ladies-in-waiting at noble courts, but only one appeared to have become famous – outside of high school elective literature courses, that was.

At first it was passing curiosity that drove Sei to find out more about his obscure namesake. He read The Pillow Book, her collection of poetic observations on court life, and found it awfully similar to what you might scroll through online while waiting for a class or a Rhyme match to begin. Opinion pieces, top ten lists, musings on animals, love letters, flowering trees. Though he wouldn't have claimed to find the text exactly riveting, the thought kept occurring to him that Lady Sei knew instinctively what takes even modern writers years of education to discover: how to capture the attention of an audience, in as few words as possible.

He hadn't thought the book would stick with him, but he ended up borrowing a name from it for his Allmate. The black-and-white cat who lived in Lady Sei's palace was known as Lady Myobu, a title more often given to noblewomen of a certain rank. It was a fine name, too, for the black-and-white kitten who went everywhere with Sei, riding along in his bag. After that, it was impossible to forget entirely about The Pillow Book or its author.

Sei could, right now, compose an essay on the book with no preparation, but as it turns out, the only question on it is multiple choice. He selects the correct answer and looks up at the clock, aware that he's lost a quarter of an hour to daydreaming. The tutor, still glued to his Coil screen, doesn't seem to mind. Sei finishes up the exam – quickly calculating a few percentages, then matching poem titles to their genres – then sets his pencil down on his desk and waits.

“Aren't you going to check your work?” the tutor asks, without looking up.

“No, I'm not,” Sei says. They're his first words to the tutor, and they come out quieter than he would have liked.

He expects the tutor to insist that he take a moment to reread his answers, or at least to cast a glare of disapproval his way, Instead, the tutor stands and takes the test paper, then gathers his books. “All right,” he says, his voice low and soft. “That's it for today. I'll be in touch to arrange our next meeting.”

On impulse, Sei almost asks how soon they're likely to speak, but he stifles the words. Better if the tutor forgets him, allows him his freedom. He could leave now too, and in fact it's probably expected that he'll follow his tutor out and make polite conversation along the way, but instead he waits at his desk until the sound of footsteps recedes. In terms of social standing, he has little to lose.

Clouds drift over the sun, darkening the sky, although two or three hours of light are left in the day. The cicadas quiet, as if falsely lulled into sleep. Before leaving, Sei closes the classroom windows, in case an afternoon rainstorm blows through. One near the back always sticks, but when he leans his full weight on it, it slides almost all the way shut.

Sei weaves his way through the school halls. They're empty and cluttered with strewn papers, just as they'll be a month from now, when summer vacation begins. By then, his grades and his work with this odd, solitary tutor will determine whether he's to move on with the rest of his class or be held back again. Or be pulled out of this school and sent to a stricter one on the mainland, away from his few friends, away from Rhyme. Which is a very real possibility, unless he either improves or drops out.

He checks one more time for messages from Aoba, but there's nothing.

It's strange, Sei thinks, to know what so many others throughout history must have felt. He understands those two Americans whose names he can't even recall, who lived decades upon decades ago and worked with Samuel Morse. The experience dates back even further than that, over a thousand years further to the court of Lady Sei, whose name is passed up in elementary-level literature courses in favor of Murasaki. They've got something in common, the lot of them: they've all been left behind.

-

Sei doesn't want to trail uselessly after his brother, but he also doesn't want to go home and end up with Granny cornering him by the front door, demanding to know how the tutoring session went. He doesn't think she'd take it well if he told her that the tutor barely spoke, never offered his name, and likely went home to stick piercing jewelry into at least six spots on his face.

He could present the facts more gently, but he doubts it would help. He could say that the tutor was quiet and young, focused and intense. He could say that he'd had to take a preliminary exam before the tutor was comfortable instructing him. And if he said these things, his grandmother would shake her head and reply that he couldn't have possibly met the tutor, because he's made up the tutor he'd give himself, if he were in charge.

So instead of going home or messaging Aoba, Sei wanders alone through shadowed streets, letting his bootheels crunch down on the trash you start finding on the sidewalk as you near the city's center: dead leaves, food wrappers, and broken multicolored glass, which he shatters into small rainbows as he walks.

The clouds overhead grow heavy, but Sei isn't worried about getting caught in the rain. He does stop long enough to make sure Myobu is carefully curled at the bottom of his bag, beneath his spare sweater and his hat. Her fur has been waterproofed, but still, Sei doesn't like the thought of her having to get wet.

Although Myobu has been with him for almost as long as Aoba has had Ren, she went without a name until that literature course. Before then, he just called her Kitty. Aoba, who swiped her from a local junk shop because she reminded him of Sei, kept suggesting foreign names that sounded similar to Ren, like Renata, or Renee. Their friend Mizuki offered Padma, which was a common name from where he'd once lived. Like Ren, it was a name used across genders, and it meant lotus flower.

Sei thought Padma was a nice name, even though it evoked thoughts of books and films that had been popular – well, probably back when Mizuki was a child – but he could never quite get the pronunciation down. Besides that, he wanted his Allmate to be more than just Ren's counterpart. She needed her own identity.

So she was Kitty while Sei and Aoba worked on scrubbing her matted fur, oiling or replacing her rusted joints, and untangling the corrupt data that kept her from starting up. She remained Kitty for years after they got her in working order, until Sei came across Lady Myobu, and the name settled over his Allmate as though it had always belonged to her.

Sei catches himself wondering if his tutor would like her, would find her name clever, but he waves the thought away. Why bother focusing on school when he's already put in extra hours today?

 The wind picks up, and the temperature falls. Sparse raindrops splatter on the pavement. Sei stays out of the street, pressing close to the buildings lining the sidewalk. Cyclists skirt around him, and people in suits and formal shoes push past him, their heels clicking loudly. The moisture in the air makes his hair frizz up, but the falling rain tamps it back down again. He walks on, clutching his bag close to his body, hardly aware of any of it.

Symbols scrawled on walls mark this as Dry Juice territory – in other words, a safe place for Sei or just about anyone to walk. The Black Needle sits nestled among other shops at the center of this part of the neighborhood, and Mizuki will be there now. It seems as though he's always at work, mixing liquors or mixing inks, with speed and with flair. He's an artist, but unlike the other artists Sei has known, Mizuki does not wait for inspiration to strike before he creates a masterpiece. He can work through any conditions, to any specifications. Under pressure, he thrives.

Last summer Sei had convinced Mizuki to take an afternoon off and come along to a festival. Of course, Koujaku pushed them all into dressing up. Each year he embarrasses both Aoba and Sei with gifts of bright, lavish yukata, in matching patterns and contrasting colors, with coordinated ribbons for Myobu and Ren. He'd have done the same for Mizuki if allowed, but everyone expected Mizuki to stick to street clothes. Sei had been pleasantly surprised when he'd shown up wearing jinbei instead; in thin cotton, without the protection of his leather jacket, Mizuki seemed more open, more able to be touched.

They'd stuck together for most of the day. Mizuki constantly asked if Sei needed a drink of water, or a rest, or some shade from the harsh summer sun, which was irritating, but curiously flattering, too. When Sei took his hand, he did not let go.

It seemed almost like the natural course of things: two twins in matching yukata, with matching Allmates in their backpacks and matching older boyfriends. Back then, Sei would have let the flow of life deposit him there, into Mizuki's arms, without resisting.

But just after sunset, he'd led Mizuki into the corner of a quiet garden and sat with him there, waiting to be kissed. When the kiss was not forthcoming, he took the initiative to lean in, and Mizuki stopped him with a gentle hand on one shoulder.

You're just so young.

Frustrated, Sei had argued back that he wasn't half as fragile as everyone made him out to be. He was no child, and he didn't deserve to be treated like one. And anyway, Koujaku and Aoba were together, even though there were just as many years between them.

Mizuki had listened, had let Sei speak. When it was over he pressed a kiss to Sei's forehead, rather than his mouth. He said, I don't think it's me that you want.

And it wasn't.

So Sei won't be going to the Black Needle today to seek shelter from the rain. He's still friends with Mizuki; they meet up almost every night he and Aoba are out Rhyming. In fact, there have been a few tipsy three-in-the-morning moments when Sei could have gotten that kiss, or even seduced Mizuki into bed while Aoba and Koujaku thrashed and moaned in the next room (or alleyway) over. But that's another difference between Sei and his brother, and it's one that Sei prefers to hold onto. There's nothing wrong with giving in to what your body wants, but Sei doesn't want to be who he is when he's lonely.

Once the rain picks up, the sidewalk clears, and Sei finds himself walking alone, ducking under awnings and overhangs when he can. Cars inch forward, but no one offers him a ride, or else he doesn't notice if they do. At intersections, they veer out in front of him, spraying him with water and making him clutch for Myobu to make sure she's safe.

Most everyone dashes across the street wherever there's an opening, but Sei is in no hurry. He waits at crosswalks for the lights to change. He's at one of these crossings, one block south and two west of the Black Needle, headed nowhere in particular, when someone steps up beside him and shields him from the rain.

It's the tutor. Sei's not surprised. He's warm, as if the boundaries of his wide black umbrella not only fend off the drizzle but also hold in the heat. He's about Sei's height, and he's out of his school uniform now, dressed instead in black and white with seafoam trim. His piercings are in, stainless-steel studs dotting his lower lip and rings through his thin, pale brows. When he speaks, his mouth opens to reveal the glint of a bar through his tongue. “I'll wait for the signal. Cross with me so you don't end up more soaked than you already are.”

Sei is certain that the tutor has just spoken more words than he did during their entire session at school. He just nods. When the light changes, he moves forward, careful to keep in pace.

Headlights shine on them, illuminating the rain. Sei could swear the tutor is shielding him from the light with his body, almost as if he knows about Sei's nightmares, the ones where the world goes bright, sharp, and cold. Halfway across, Sei looks up, and meets the tutor's steady green eyes.

They step up on the curb together and stand there, for a moment, as headlights streak past them.

“Hold this,” the tutor says, and hands Sei his umbrella so he can look at something on his Coil. It doesn't occur to Sei to do anything but accept.

Sei half-tilts one wrist to glance at his own Coil, and that's as long as it takes for the tutor to take one, two, three steps forward; to hurry across the next street, leaving Sei and the umbrella behind him.

The rain falls like a curtain, obscuring the space between them. Sei has one foot on the sidewalk and one in the road when the signals change again and traffic pours toward him. He stumbles back, barely catches himself. Beyond the cars, the tutor has vanished.

It's just like with Mizuki, he thinks to himself. He's tried so hard to make his own way, yet he finds himself swept along with someone else's will once more, like leaves into the overflowing gutters.

-

The rain-darkened sky has shifted into a clear and star-dotted evening by the time Sei finds Aoba. It's almost unseasonably cool out now: the wind that blew in with the storm has brought the last gasp of spring upon them. Myobu, released from Sei's bag, now lies comfortably draped in the crook of his elbow, marking him as a Rhymer among equals.

Although Myobu is set to communicate via messages sent to Sei through his Coil, she's as quiet as Sei himself. She doesn't speak unless spoken to, except during Rhyme battles and emergencies. She does, however, purr softly in his arms, and the gentle vibrations soothe him.

Together they make their way toward the abandoned, fenced-in construction site where Rhymers are gathering in hope of a fight. It's the fifth spot Sei has checked tonight, and rumor has it that it's overdue for an encounter. Each team has their own methods for pinning down the probability of a Rhyme session occurring at a given place or time, and for the most part they don't share. Sei knows that people will talk about what excites them though, even if they don't mean to, and he knows where to find information online.

Aoba doesn't use any apps or equations to track Rhyme, though. He claims he goes on instinct to figure out where the next game will take place, but of course, other players let him in on their secrets all the time. Everyone wants to see Sly Blue play.

The fence is high and edged with sharp wire, but holes have long ago been clipped in the chain-link metal. Sei glances behind him; they're on the outskirts of Dry Juice territory now, and Bug Bomb's logo is messily scrawled on the crumbling brick wall across the street. The spray-painted lady winks down at him, lopsided. They're not known for leaving Rhymers to play in peace, but Sei can take them, as long as he senses them coming. He lifts Myobu onto his shoulder, and instructs her, “Keep an eye out, okay?”

She mews affirmatively, and he lets her stand guard while he rolls up one edge of the fence enough to slip under. From the other side, he smooths it out again, makes it look intact. Longtime Rhymers will know where to find the gaps, but police, Rib players, and anyone else who might give them grief will be hard-pressed to find a way in.

This would have been a shopping center, had construction been completed. Two- and three-story buildings form an outer circle, lined inside with raw weed-studded dirt where sidewalks would have been poured. The centerpiece is a cracked stone fountain with stagnant green water in its basin. Rhymers cluster around it; at least two dozen of them stand there in the mud. More lean against walls or crouch in open doorways. No one looks up when Sei passes. If he's selected to play, then they'll look, and he'll delight in seeing their mouths drop open in shock at his record, his skills. But unlike Aoba, he isn't recognized on sight.

For a moment he thinks Aoba isn't here, either, until he hears a familiar voice call out to him. “Oi, big brother! Up here!”

Sei looks up. There's Aoba, sitting in a second-story window frame and waving, with his legs hanging out over the sloped roof of the first floor's entryway. He's not alone, but Sei can't see who's with him. Pointing at a stack of concrete blocks piled almost up to the lowest edge of the roof, Aoba adds, “Climb up!”

There's probably a staircase inside, but Sei thinks he can make it. “Hold on,” he says to Myobu, and she does, curling her paws tightly around the strap of his bag. Trespassers long before him have ensured that the blocks are stacked to allow for plenty of footholds, and if he's careful where he steps, it's sturdy enough. He's not as strong or as nimble as Aoba, but he's persistent, patient. Though it's not easy to pull himself atop the roof, he swings a leg up and braces his heel on one of the shingles, and then he's as good as in. Myobu scampers ahead, leaping into Aoba's lap alongside Ren as soon as she sees him.

The roof itself is slippery and sharp-angled, but strong arms reach out through a window and pull him safely inside. It's cool, dark, and damp in here, and at first Sei can't see who's got him, until lips brush his ear and a calm voice murmurs, “That's no good, Sei-san. You could have hurt yourself.”

It's the yakuza guys, Virus and Trip. One of them tugs on a lock of his hair, which hurts, but they don't know how sensitive his hair is. Trip says, “But you're safe with us now, Sei.”

“We'll have to help you down if you're selected to Rhyme tonight,” Virus adds.

“We'll help,” Trip agrees, leaning in close enough that Sei can smell his sour-candy breath. “We'd like to see you Rhyme tonight, Sei.”

“Get off,” Aoba says, rolling his eyes as he shoos Virus away. He even gives Trip an unceremonious shove. The grip on Sei's hair is released, and he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. “You can watch just fine from up here. Go sit down, Sei's sitting with me.”

They listen. Everyone listens to Aoba. It makes Sei feel envious, but also, sometimes, grateful. Aoba pats the hard, chilly window frame at his side, and Sei sits there, while the others take their seats in the next window down. Ren speaks his name in greeting, and Sei rewards him with scratches behind both ears.

On the ground, the Rhyme session, if there is going to be one, still hasn't started, which doesn't matter to Sei at all. Here, side-by-side with his twin who smells of summer and liquor, their Allmates sprawled together across their laps, playfighting – this is where Sei belongs. He offers up a small smile, to no one in particular.

Aoba reaches into his backpack and comes up with two tall, lukewarm cans of beer. He offers one to Sei. “So where have you been all day?”

Sei accepts the drink. It tastes bitter, but he feels like he needs it. The day's been long. “I had to stay late at school.”

Aoba drinks half his beer in one swallow, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He doesn't take his eyes off the Rhymers standing around the fountain, but he puts his arm around Sei's shoulder. “Why'd you have to do that?”

He's told Aoba before, but he doesn't mind having to repeat himself. He can't imagine he'd want to have to remember anything about school if it were no longer part of his own daily life. “I had an appointment with the tutor who's supposed to make sure I graduate this year.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Aoba glances at Sei. His eyes, which have grown so hard over the past few years, briefly soften. Sei chooses to interpret this as an apology. “How was that?”

“He was nice,” Sei says, when he means to say fine.

“Good. Cause you know he'd have to answer to me if he wasn't, right?”

Sei knows. Sei also knows that he's not interested, anymore, in having his brother solve all his problems for him. But he says, “Thank you, Aoba,” and he means it. Then, in an attempt to steer his own mind away from the tutor, he adds, “Did you get to Rhyme earlier?”

Aoba shakes his head. “Not yet. Whoever tipped me off about the place was either wrong, or they lied.” He pets Ren, pets Myobu, then crunches his empty beer can and reaches for another. He offers it to Sei first, but Sei shakes his head; he's barely had two sips yet. “So I guess I'm due for some luck tonight, right?”

As if on cue, Usui appears, in a flash of light so intense that Sei cringes away. She stands tall, towering over the crowd, a few meters out from the fountain. Her voice echoes loudly in the valley of concrete. “The waiting is over, everyone! Rhyme is about to begin!”

Aoba watches, transfixed. He's on his Coil, maybe messing with Ren's settings in anticipation of a game, but he's not looking at what he's typing. Even Virus and Trip are focused and quiet. Every member of the crowd is either silent or chanting Usui's name.

Sei wonders, as he always does, if she's pure AI or controlled by a human. He wonders what it would be like, either way, to have that kind of power..

None of them are selected for the first game, which is between two players Sei doesn't recognize. One of them uses the handle Genji, though – it could be part of the player's real name, or a reference to the main character of Lady Murasaki's novel. Sei smiles again, wondering whether to cheer the player on or consider her a rival. In the end, Sei decides the two choices aren't mutually exclusive.

They watch the fight, seeing what the players see in real time, knowing that the players, in their virtual realm, are blocked off from the world, unable to hear the shouts and cheers. Genji is sort of an underdog; she's not part of a team, her Allmate (a duckling who takes the form of a golden-robed human in combat) is an old model, and she hasn't been playing for long. Her opponent, White Rose, is polished and precise, ranked high on a team known for blindsiding one another with drive-bys for practice.

In the few moments it takes for a Rhyme match to transpire, everyone takes sides. It's nothing personal. It's part of the game. Sei decides he likes Genji, who reminds him a little of Aoba. But all the same, Genji stands to lose nothing if she can't win. White Rose has far to fall.

Genji almost wins. A light drizzle comes down again, soaking the muddy field. Genji pushes her wet bangs out of her face, but Sei can tell she's too focused to know, on a conscious level, what the weather is doing in the real world. Sei has the strange urge to hop down and offer her the umbrella he still has in his bag, but he'd be blacklisted from tonight's session if he touched an active player. Genji is still ahead at this point, but she chooses offense over blocking White Rose's attack, though she has only a sliver of defense remaining.

“It's over for her,” Aoba says, shaking his head. And he's right. Genji's attack isn't strong enough to take out White Rose in one last hit, and on the next turn, she goes down.

The Rhyme field releases them, and they blink as their eyes adjust to the evening darkness, lit only by the backlights of forty or fifty Coils and the glow of Usui herself. White Rose's teammates offer their congratulations, and people say kind things to Genji, too – nice try, and better luck next time. Everyone picks sides during a Rhyme match, but everyone's your friend, once it's over.

Sei can feel Aoba tense up beside him just before the next pair of players is announced. He wants badly to play; they both do. Despite Sei's best efforts at humility, he wants people to look at him. And to think, for a minute at least, now, there's someone powerful, or worthy, or brave.

But Sly Blue is not called up to play, and neither is Captive Princess. This match's players are two guys called Tektonik and Noiz.

“This should be good,” Aoba says. “They're on the same team. Ruff Rabbit. Newer players, kinda on the young side, but smart. And – shit, look at this.”

Sei looks. Aoba has pulled up Noiz's stats on his Coil. Thirty wins in the past six months, and no losses. Noiz hasn't been playing as long as Sei and Aoba, but like them, he's undefeated.

Aoba lets out a low whistle. “What I wouldn't give to be out there with him now.”

When Sei turns back to the field, he suddenly feels the same way.

The players are in position to start the game, and Sei knows one of them. He knows who Noiz is. Young, foreign, blond. Piercings, serious eyes. It's his tutor. Noiz, who has a flawless Rhyme record, who's gearing up right now to continue on his winning streak, is Sei's tutor.

Sei doesn't think. He just sets Myobu in Aoba's lap, drops what's left of his beer, and slides off his window perch, landing hard on the rooftop below. He skids, but keeps his balance and walks forward.

“What the hell, Sei?” Aoba asks, in a voice that seems very far away.

Someone, probably Trip, gets up to come pull Sei back to safety, but Aoba says, “No. He knows what he's doing, even if I don't. Let him go.”

Then there's nothing but Sei, Noiz, and the Rhyme field. The rest of the world shrinks away as surely as if Sei were playing in this game himself. Noiz's hands are bandaged, wrapped up completely – were they bandaged earlier too? Could Sei have overlooked that, before he thought it important to really open his eyes to this boy, or does he just wear them for Rhyme, a lucky charm or something like it?

Noiz's Allmate, in its physical form, is sleek and small and new, but when the field comes down, the little green cubes manifest themselves instead as a row of tiny high-voiced bunnies. Sei grins; they're adorable. Not what he would have expected.

Sei walks out to the edge and stops there, heels on sagging shingles, toes hanging out over air. The rain is light, almost a fine mist, and the smell of wet earth rises all around him, contrasting with the geometric neon of the Rhyme field. Noiz's competitor, Tektonik, has a bright green scorpion Allmate that just gets larger when active. He opens with a poison attack, one that will drain away Noiz's defense over the course of the fight. You can catch a beginner off guard with a tactic like that, but Sei is sure that Noiz won't be fooled.

Noiz is a good fighter. He's balanced. He never lets his guard down, but his offense is solid too, and it only builds in strength the longer the fight goes on. Most Rhymers either open strong or close strong. Sei and Aoba fall into the latter group, thanks to the unique nature of their skills. But Noiz increases the pressure so slowly and steadily that by the time the match ends, his opponent doesn't seem to know what hit him.

Sei is, in theory, interested in Noiz's strategy. He's interested in the bunny Allmate's settings, stats, and moveset, but right now, he can't recall the name of a single attack Noiz has called out during the battle. There's no room in Sei's mind for anything except the expressions on Noiz's face, the way they evolve as the fight runs its course. The set of his jaw, the shape of his mouth, the arch of his pierced brows; these features all suggest that he is calm, unruffled, confident bordering on cocky.

But the brightness of his eyes betrays sheer exhilaration. They're the same, he and Sei. Sei is sure of it. They're alive when in the midst of a battle, and maybe not much of anywhere else.

Noiz is declared the winner, and again, the field recedes. Both players are mobbed by their teammates instantly. Tektonik, who has broken a sweat in spite of the weather, starts chattering away, but Noiz stays quiet, hangs back. He surveys the landscape before him, the dark half-finished buildings. Sei follows his eyes – and catches sight of a group of people standing in front of the construction zone's locked gate, an instant before it swings open and the flashlights snap on.

Like Sei's nightmare. It's dark, until the light swallows him, and then he is left helpless and exposed.

Without thinking, Sei cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Police! Get out of here!”

Chaos breaks loose. Usui flickers out of existence as Rhymers dash in every direction. Sei looks back at Aoba, who has him fixed with a frantic stare. Sei can't go back in through the window; he warned the others, he's a target now, and they'll have cops surrounding the building before he, Aoba, and the others can get out.

He motions for Aoba to run. Aoba hesitates for a second, then nods. He gathers Myobu and Sei's bag along with his own things, and then he makes a break for it.

Sei crouches down and grabs hold of the edge of the roof to swing himself to the ground. Even from the lowest point, it's a full story down, but he lands on his toes in the soft mud and rolls forward, catching himself and pushing himself up with his outstretched palms. He risks a glance toward the gate. They're close. Rather than try to sprint across the open field, he heads into the alley leading to the rear of the building. If they catch him there, he'll be cornered, but these buildings back up against the fence. All he needs to do is stay one step ahead until he finds a gap in the fence large enough to squirm through quickly.

He runs alongside the fence, praying he's not leaving behind obvious footprints, risking the possibility that someone might be patrolling the outer perimeter. He draws in breath, quick and quiet, and hopes that his lungs will hold out. A familiar voice shouts shrilly through a megaphone (“Trespassers! Will! Be! Caught! And! Puniiiiiished!”) and Sei almost groans aloud. If Akushima is here, he won't stop until he's got his hands on someone. Well, that won't be Sei tonight.

He thinks he's almost back to the place where he first entered, but as he passes another alley, he sees a figure standing at the opposite end, hands raised, frozen as a flashlight beam sweeps over him.

It's Noiz. Of course it would have to be Noiz.

In a fraction of a second, countless thoughts spin through Sei's mind. He thinks of going ahead alone. Then he thinks of the first match of the evening, between Genji and White Rose. He remembers thinking about how far White Rose, if she lost, would fall.

Sei doesn't know what Noiz has to lose, but he knows that he himself is already at rock bottom.

He darts down the alleyway and yanks Noiz along by one hand. His skin is warm through the bandages. Not ten paces behind them, a flashlight swings toward them, and a voice shouts, “Hey! Get back here!”

It's not Akushima, at least. At this rate there's no way they can lose him, so they're going to have to outpace him and bank on the hope that he won't care enough to chase them once they're out. Sei tries to pick up speed, but he's flagging; Noiz is practically dragging him now, around the corner and urgently forward

“There!” Sei shouts, when he finally sets eyes on a hole in the fence. Noiz doesn't spot the seam immediately, so Sei throws himself to the ground and pries it open. “Go, hurry!”

Noiz doesn't have to be told twice. He wrenches himself through the narrow gap, then turns around to grab Sei's hands and help him through just as the cop skids to a stop behind them. Sei's clothes are sodden with mud, the backs of his legs scraped raw by the sharp metal, and he could swear he feels the cop grabbing at his shoe just before he tumbles to the ground on the other side. He doesn't get a break to breathe, though. Noiz pulls him to his feet and keeps running, straight through the street, as cars swerve and honk at them.

A block away, Sei presses a hand to the stitch in his side and dares to look back. The cop is still inside the fence. No one's coming after them.

Sei breaks up in the relieved laughter of a narrow escape. It reddens his cheeks and burns his lungs, but he can't hold the laughs in. They're safe, and – who would have thought the day would turn out this way? Everything aches, his clothes and hair must be a mess, that shrill megaphone cop is still turning an old construction site inside out for them down the road, and here he is holding on tight to a guy he just met today! Who's supposed to be his tutor! Sei claps his hand over his mouth to stifle himself, but just ends up snorting and laughing harder.

Noiz slows, looks at him sidelong, and lets out a chuckle. Then some old man strolls by them on the sidewalk, gawking openly at Sei's fit of giggles, and Noiz laughs again, and it's all downhill from there. They end up collapsing together on the steps of a closed shop, Sei leaning on Noiz, Noiz willing, for now, to support him.

When their laughter quiets, Sei doesn't move. He lets himself rest his head on Noiz's shoulder without really thinking about it. Soon, there will have to be questions, decisions, thoughts and feelings to recognize and confront. But for now, Sei rests, until Noiz clears his throat and sits up straighter, and it becomes obvious that Sei should sit up, too.

“We should get out of here in case the cops come this way,” Noiz says.

“I know a place where we'd be safe,” Sei suggests, meaning the Black Needle. He needs to find Aoba, of course, but that's likely where Aoba will have ended up anyway.

Noiz shakes his head. “I meant home. It's late.” He looks pointedly at his Coil, where the time is displayed. “I've still got work to do tonight.”

Sei isn't sure if this is meant to be a disguised reprimand, a suggestion that perhaps Noiz thinks he should be doing his homework instead of running around on the streets. He wants to say, What kind of work? He wants to ask if they can study together.

But that would mean admitting he wants more than he's been given, so what comes out of his mouth is, “Oh. I – I understand.”

Noiz nods and stands up, bandaged hands tucked into his pockets. “Thanks. For everything.”

Sei thinks: Can I see you tomorrow? Can I buy you – a drink, an ice cream? When will you be out Rhyming again?

Sei says, as he watches Noiz go: “Of course. You, too.”

ii.

In the dream, he's losing himself under the light. Aoba is gone. Aoba has been gone for a long time. Sei can feel parts of himself, thoughts and hopes and memories, slipping away. He can't see anything but bright blankness, can't see what is tearing him to pieces. Then the light fades, and he's left with nothing but a startling sense of guilt.

-

When Sei wakes, he does not recall returning home or cleaning himself up. But either he somehow managed, or Aoba took care of him, because he sees gauze wrapped around his legs, a fresh school uniform hanging from his doorknob, and Myobu in sleep mode, curled up on the pillow beside him.

He finds his Coil on the bedside table and is glad to see that it survived the night. His alarm isn't on, but it's only fifteen minutes after it would have sounded, anyway. He blinks, letting the fact of a new day settle into him, before he rises and feels the pain flare up.

The swollen joints of his ankles and knees resist movement, and the headache swells like fire behind one eye. Compared to this, the deep scratches on his calves and palms barely sting. At least he doesn't seem to be running a fever. He walks a few tentative steps, then sits back down, shuts his eyes, and cradles his head in his hands, and that's where he stays until Aoba comes in to get him.

This morning, he hasn't got the strength to do anything but cooperate. Aoba helps him dress in his uniform and tenderly brushes his hair, knowing it hurts twice as much when he's sick. Then Aoba carries him, not without effort, down the stairs, where they can hear Granny cooking in the kitchen. She always cooks breakfast – and lunch, and dinner, though neither of them ever join her. What she doesn't eat herself or give to the neighbors gets tucked away in the fridge, boxed up and labeled, for them to eat at whatever ungodly hour they arrive home. It's not unheard of for Sei and Aoba to sit across from one another at the kitchen table, eating a whole day's worth of meals an hour or two before dawn.

Sei feels a spark of tenderness for his grandmother, an emotion he never knows how to express. And he won't have to figure it out today, because Aoba carries him right out the front door.

They don't go toward the school. Sei, who has never turned down an opportunity to stay home sick, who in fact is known to exaggerate his symptoms or feign them altogether at times, feels curiously disappointed. His spirits improve, though, when he realizes that they're headed for Koujaku's apartment.

Koujaku meets them downstairs and offers to carry Sei. Sei lets himself be passed around, lets himself lean heavily on Koujaku, while Aoba complains about having to walk all that way.

This has happened before. When Sei is sick but doesn't want to stay at home, Koujaku is always willing to skip work and tend to him. Most of the time, Aoba escorts him over and then leaves. Today he hangs around, sitting on the edge of the bed, talking quietly with Koujaku and rubbing Sei's back, while Sei lies on his side between the silk sheets.

Sei doesn't need to sleep, really. He'll recover just fine as long as he's off his feet. But it's safe and comfortable here, and he finds himself drifting. He catches snippets of conversation about Koujaku's latest clients, or the trouble Mizuki's been having importing both liquor and tattoo supplies, now that Toue, Inc has such a monopoly on contact with the mainland. He avoids nightmares, but sinks into dream once or twice, and finds himself standing at the construction site fountain on a starless night, staring up at Noiz, whose silhouette he glimpses through a window.

That's it, he realizes, when he wakes long enough to accept Koujaku's offer of a cup of tea. He wanted to go to school to keep from disappointing Noiz. It's too late for that now, so he drinks his tea, lets Koujaku pat his head, and closes his eyes again.

It would help if he could explain to Noiz – to anyone, to any of the teachers whose simmering disapproval make him want to skip more classes than the ones he can't help missing – just what is wrong with him. The story is that when Aoba was adopted into Granny's family, they learned that he had a twin who wasn't at the same orphanage. They searched for Sei, but it took years to find him. By then, he was more damaged than Aoba, thanks to whatever unnamed trauma it was that split them from their birth family in the first place.

Granny is both insistent about this story and determinedly non-specific, which frustrates Sei to no end. He should have been old enough to remember the time before he was adopted, but his memory starts at his reunion with Aoba, where he'd laid eyes upon his twin and knew at once that he'd found another few fragments of a soul that would never feel whole.

It doesn't make sense. It doesn't come together. When Granny talks to other people like herself – covert doctors, nurses, pharmacists, and other healers who neither accepted job offers in Platinum Jail nor ran off to the mainland like the parents who supposedly loved Sei and Aoba so much – she uses certain words to describe Sei's condition. Words that Sei can define, individually, but that lose their meaning when he tries to apply them to himself: neurologic, idiopathic, psychosomatic.

What it comes down to is that no one knows why he's sick, and so he's never really had an excuse.

As afternoon rolls around, Sei's headache subsides, and it's hard not to feel better. He sits up, not knowing what woke him, until he hears his Coil buzz and realizes he has an unread message. He rubs his eyes and drinks the dregs of the tea still sitting nearby before he checks it.

The message is from an unknown number, sent three minutes ago. It says, You weren't in school today.

Sei rereads the number, but nothing jogs his memory. He looks around to see if Koujaku or Aoba might recognize it, but they're gone, and after a moment he notices that the shower is on. Soft sounds are coming from the bathroom. It doesn't take much thought to figure out what they're up to. Sei smirks to himself.

Then he looks at the message again. Granny always calls instead of messaging, and a teacher wouldn't contact a student like this out of the blue, but no one else cares whether he's in class or not, except –

Sei is bolder online than in person, by far. He messages back, Noiz?

The reply comes almost instantly. Yeah. Where are you?

For a moment his heart flutters, but he knows Noiz isn't exactly asking him to meet up for fun. He just wants to know why he's wasting his time on a tutoring session for an absentee student. I'm out sick. I didn't think we had a meeting today.

We don't.

Sei nearly forgets how to breathe. There is more to it. What they have between them isn't entirely about school after all. An unwanted fantasy flashes through his head: Sei pressed up against the wall of the shower, where Aoba must be right now, with Noiz rather than Koujaku holding him there.

The Coil slips from his grasp, hits the floor hard, and vibrates loudly there as another message comes through. The sound from the bathroom cuts off, except for the spray of the shower. Then, tentatively, Koujaku's muffled voice calls out, “Sei? Are you all right?”

Sei fights to swallow a laugh. “I'm fine. I'll be downstairs, so you two can take it to bed if you want!”

When he hears Aoba burst out laughing, he lets himself giggle. Then he gathers up his Coil and heads downstairs, testing the strength of his legs and finding it good enough. He reads the new message from Noiz as he goes. It's a long one.

After I scored your test, I looked over your grades for the past few years. You only fall behind when you miss class. When you show up for a few weeks straight, you start catching up.

Sei thinks about responding with something irreverent, maybe asking Noiz what his point is, but instead he says, How did I do on the test?

You missed three questions out of sixty.

Sei can't help but smile a little as he curls up in a comfortable chair downstairs, across from Ren and Myobu, who are napping with Koujaku's Allmate, Beni, nestled between them. Noiz knows he's smart in more ways than one, at least. Does that mean you don't think I need a tutor after all?

A while passes before Noiz replies. Sei tries to remind himself that it's ridiculous to be nervous over a delay of a few extra minutes, but he still finds himself fidgeting with the rumpled uniform he slept in all day.

At last, the message comes through. I think it means you need to come to school. If you can't, then your parents or whoever really need to hire someone who can teach you at home, or get you enrolled in classes online.

Sei reads the message, then reads it again. It's almost as if the meaning can't get through to him. He's not sure if Noiz's words are good or bad, if they're meant to encourage or condemn. He thinks this may be the first time anyone's ever directly suggested that it's not all his fault, whether or not it's true.

He's deleting the third reply he's attempted to type out when Noiz says something else.

If you want to talk about your options, I've got nothing better to do for the next few hours.

Sei smiles so wide that he has to cover his mouth, because there's no way it's legal to feel so happy over some ridiculous boy. He'll have to somehow sneak back home for a change of clothes, and he'll probably need something for the pain if he plans to walk more than a few blocks, but he wouldn't miss this for the world. He thinks he'd even lie to Aoba, if that's what it took to get to Noiz tonight.

Sure. Name your time and place.

Noiz sends back the name of a restaurant Sei's never been to, which doesn't matter. He'd meet in a landfill if Noiz asked him to. But – there are limits to what he's okay with, after all. Stalking, for one. Or flipping through others' Coils when they're not looking. So before he heads off to get ready, Sei asks, How did you get my number, anyway?

The same way you and I have both ended up undefeated in Rhyme for so long.

Hard work and determination? Sei messages back, mostly sarcastically.

Part luck, and part secrets, Noiz replies.

Sei decides that will have to do, for now.

-

In some ways, Koujaku and Aoba's relationship makes more sense than most. They've always been there for each other. Koujaku has been around longer than Sei, even. So of course, when it comes to matters such as love and sex, there's no good reason for them not to experiment, to figure out whether they're still compatible. Which, as it turns out, they are.

What confuses Sei is not that they both see other people, rather that Koujaku dates so many different women when he's never looked at any of them the way he looks at Aoba. But Sei minds his own business on the issue, which works out well for him at times like this, when he's in need of fresh clothes again and Koujaku has a whole closet full of what his dates have left behind.

He picks out tight black jeans and a white shirt with lace at the collar and sleeves. Noiz hasn't seen him in anything but his school uniform before, which is slightly nerve-wracking, but it's not like Rhymers are a traditional bunch when it comes to clothing. He allows Koujaku to shape and trim his fingernails, and paint them in matte black polish with silver tips. Once they're dry, he heads out, as Aoba and Koujaku argue over exactly how much of a fashion disaster it would be for Aoba to spell out his Rhyme name on his nails in blue glitter.

Sei hasn't quite told either of them exactly who he's meeting. If Koujaku knew it was a Rhymer, he'd probably insist on coming along as a chaperone. And if Aoba knew that it was Noiz in particular – well, Sei isn't sure how he'd react. But all he's confessed so far is that he's got a bit of a crush on his tutor, who wants to get together outside of school to talk. He'd still wondered if Aoba would ask to come along and meet the guy, but Aoba had just said he had other plans for the evening, anyway.

Sei wanted to look up the restaurant Noiz suggested before deciding for sure on what to wear, but Koujaku insisted that he'd chosen a perfect outfit for the occasion, and in the whirlwind of getting ready in an unfamiliar place to go see an unfamiliar person, Sei never ended up doing any research at all. He hadn't exactly expected a Platinum Jail-type restaurant, the kind of place with bathroom attendants and a prix fixe menu, but when he sees that it's a takeout pizza chain with no apparent place to sit and eat, he starts to wonder if he isn't overdressed.

He stands outside for a few moments, hoping that Noiz will appear. When that doesn't happen, Sei steps inside, and to his surprise, the girl at the counter looks him up and down and says right away, “You're here to see Noiz, right?”

Sei nods, then works up the nerve to raise his eyes and ask, “How did you know?”

Is he that predictable? Did Noiz say look out for the weird one, or something?

The girl shrugs. “No ever comes in here before dinnertime unless he invites them.”

Which doesn't speak well for the food, but Sei isn't here to eat. As she leads him to the shop's rear door – is there a dining room back there, perhaps? – he dares to ask, “Does Noiz invite a lot of people here?”

If she knows what he's getting at, she doesn't let on. “Not really. Mostly his teammates for that Rhyme thing. Which is fine, I guess. My girlfriend plays Rib.”

It's just like Noiz, Sei thinks, to hold strategy meetings at a restaurant where the employees feel roughly the way Koujaku does about Rhyme. Out of politeness, he asks, “What team is she on?”

“Dry Juice, of course.” The girl grins as she holds the door open for Sei. “I've met their leader, Mizuki, before. I mean, really got to talk to him, you know? You ever met him?”

Sei thinks of the failed kiss, the missed opportunity last summer, and his smile freezes on his face. “Met him? Y-you could say that.”

“Anyway, he's pretty cool, right?” She ushers him through the door, and he goes, eager to step out of this particular conversation. “So yeah, here's your guy.”

To Sei's surprise, the door opens out onto a tiny fenced-in garden, with just enough room for two picnic tables and a feathery, drooping maple tree. Noiz is seated at one of the tables with his Coil open in front of him and a large pizza at his side. He looks up long enough to wave, and Sei thinks he sees a smile tugging at one corner of Noiz's mouth. Wishful thinking, maybe.

“Thanks,” Noiz says, and Sei nods to the girl as well. She winks – she actually winks at Sei – and disappears back into the store, leaving Sei to take a seat opposite Noiz at the picnic table.

He doesn't want to interrupt Noiz while he's busy, so he sits quietly, admiring the way the light filtering through the maple tree turns Noiz's hair to spun gold. With metaphors like this, he supposes he could give Lady Sei Shonagon a run for her money, were he to travel back to her Heian era court. Still, the knowledge that he's exaggerating, that he's head-over-heels, doesn't make what he feels for Noiz any less true.

“You can eat,” Noiz says, with a wave of his hand. “If you don't like pizza I can get you a menu. Have whatever you want, I've got an open tab here.”

Sei is fairly sure that open tabs are a bar thing, not a takeout pizza thing, but that would probably be rude to bring up, wouldn't it? He takes a slice from the box. Noiz seems to have eaten quite a lot of it already, but there's plenty left, and it's still hot. “Thank you, but I like pizza just fine.”

He eats, and he watches Noiz. It's good, shockingly good for the look of the place, although without napkins or plates it's hard to keep sauce from dripping onto his shirt. Noiz seems to have mastered the art of eating pizza one-handed without smudging his Coil screen, which is sort of impressive.

After a few moments, Noiz flicks off his Coil and looks up. He says, “So here's the deal.”

Sei slurps the last bit of melted cheese into his mouth, hopefully not too inelegantly, and listens.

Noiz meets Sei's eyes while he speaks. There's nothing harsh in his tone. “I get credit for tutoring. You get – I don't know. You live up to your mom or dad's expectations, or whatever. Technically, I can tell the school that you met with me, whether or not you did, and we can both go our own ways. If you're not going to get anything out of tutoring, then I see no reason not to tell them what they want to hear.”

Sei takes a second to let the words sink in. He chews on the dry edge of his pizza crust, wanting another slice, knowing this conversation is a bit too important to allow for smears of sauce and strings of cheese in the way of his speech. Noiz's eyes are so intense, it's almost scary. They remind him of Virus and Trip's matching eyes, but without the distant, cold quality. Noiz is warm, but he's serious.

Sei says, “What's the alternative?”

“I'm not what you need,” Noiz says, and Sei's heart hurts, because he is.

Noiz goes on. “If you want to study together, I'll do it. If what you need is someone to keep you motivated enough to keep trying, I'm fine with that. I wouldn't have signed up for this if I wasn't. But I've got the idea that there's more to it than that, for you.”

“I...” Sei shakes his head. He doesn't even know, yet, whether Noiz asked him out here purely on business, or as a social call. He feels kept off his feet. Maybe that's not Noiz's intention, but Sei can't let someone who first gave him hope now start to walk all over him. No matter how lovely that someone may be.

Sei dabs at his mouth with his hand, because there's nothing else to use, then folds both hands on the table and struggles to make himself keep eye contact as he speaks. “I don't understand what you're getting at. It's generous of you to offer what you have, but I don't know what you mean when you tell me I need something else.” His voice cracks on the next words, but he won't let himself fall apart. “I see that I must have been wrong to – to wonder if you wanted to spend time with me. So I just need to know what you do want.”

Noiz is quiet. His eyes are only on Sei. His palms are flat on the table; he's not holding onto his Coil, or food, or any other distraction. Under his gaze, Sei trembles, and hates himself for it.

Then, for the first time, Noiz says his name. “Sei. I'm asking what you want.”

He's asking if Sei wants to keep trying. He's asking, indirectly, if there's something behind Sei's frequent absences from school or if he just doesn't care. And, unlike most people Sei has dealt with, he's not hoping for a certain answer. Sei can't just tell him what he wants to hear.

But Sei also can't tell him the truth: that it's both. There's something behind his absences, sometimes, and he's also far beyond caring.

So instead, Sei says, “I want to talk about Rhyme.”

He half expects Noiz to get mad at him, but Noiz just looks at him evenly and says, “Go ahead.”

At first Sei isn't sure he really has anything to discuss, but he starts speaking before the thoughts finish forming in his mind. “I enjoyed watching you play. You seem to be in it for something other than just winning. I think that's a part of why you're so skilled that you've never lost.”

Noiz takes another slice of pizza as he listens. “What do you think I'm in it for?”

Again, the answer spills out before Sei has time to think. “If I had to guess, I'd say there's not much else you enjoy. I don't mean you're an addict, or you don't have any other interests. But Rhyme makes you feel the way you want to feel.”

Sei has another slice too, stuffing it into his mouth before he can go off talking again about things that should probably be better kept to himself instead.

Noiz doesn't deny Sei's words, but doesn't admit to them, either. He tilts his head thoughtfully, and for a while, they eat in silence. The sky is cloudless today, but there's still a breeze, which stirs fallen leaves and sends them cascading over their picnic table. Sei shuts the pizza box to avoid unwanted vegetable toppings.

“Is that how Rhyme is for you?” Noiz asks.

Sei considers the question. It's not the first time he's thought about what Rhyme means to him. For Aoba, he knows, Rhyme brings power and confidence that he can't find anywhere else, but it's different for Sei. Winning still feels good, but beyond that, Rhyme might be the one thing Sei can do alone, and on his own terms.

“Yes,” he says to Noiz. “That's how it is for me.”

Noiz goes quiet for a while once more. He opens his Coil and taps the screen a few times before closing it. Then he reaches into the pizza box, where two slices remain, and hands one to Sei. Their fingertips brush, which would be much more romantic if not for the crumbs and oil. Still, the touch gives Sei a buzz like a shot of vodka.

“So,” Noiz says, “Do you want to Rhyme tonight?”

-

It hardly feels possible or real, but Sei is walking down the street with Noiz, willing his limp to stay away as he listens to Noiz talk about his team. Ruff Rabbit apparently does more than just play Rhyme; from what Noiz says, they're basically hackers.

“You can make money doing that?” Sei asks, thinking vaguely of the time he remotely unlocked the entire school building to allow Ren and Myobu, who'd been confiscated, to escape. And all the times he's changed his grades, or gotten Aoba out of detention via any method from a computer glitch to a rogue, unstoppable fire alarm. And also the things he does with Allmates and Rhyme fields, but he doubts that's something you can put a name to.

Noiz nods. “We're not just a bunch of kids who do it to mess with people, although some started out that way. Think bigger. Think business.” He nods toward Platinum Jail, where Toue, Inc is based. “Did you know they own Rhyme's game developer? Who knows that they might be doing with all our information.”

Sei feels as though he must have known, because the revelation doesn't surprise him. He tries not to think too much about companies like that, about what they're capable of. There's no point, when there's nothing he can do.

“You'd be shocked at what people like them get away with if no one keeps tabs,” Noiz says. “On a day-to-day basis, though, we make most of our income off lower-stakes stuff, like Rhyme apps. I bet you've got one of ours on your Coil right now.”

Sei notes the names of the apps Noiz lists for him, but he doesn't check his Coil now. He's too busy wondering if it's possible, after all, for him to find a place in the world, if people are paid for doing what comes naturally to him. He could move away from home someday, or at least face his own grandmother without shame in his eyes. He's not sure if he could handle dealing with major corporations and their dark secrets, but Rhyme apps are a different story.

“Sei?”

He jumps. “I – I'm sorry. I was just thinking.”

Noiz half-smiles. “About what? Hoping for a job offer?”

“Well...”

One step ahead of Sei, Noiz rounds a corner onto a deserted residential street that's supposed to lead to the first potential Rhyme venue they're going to check out. Sei follows.

Out of nowhere, everything flashes dark. Sei feels like he's falling. It's not unlike being pulled into a Rhyme match, except that the field doesn't materialize before him. He wonders if he has fainted, wonders if his nightmares have spilled into the waking world. Then he's shoved back out into the daylight, where he stumbles into a wall before finding his balance.

His injured palms throb as he catches himself with them, but he bites back the pain and just says to Noiz, “Sorry. I don't know what...”

Then he sees what has happened. Noiz has been pulled into a drive-by. He's lost in the Rhyme field now, dead to the world. Sei must have been close enough to feel the effects of the field coming down.

The trouble is, Noiz's opponent is Aoba.

Sei sighs loudly, not that either of them can hear him. They're standing on a street corner, mouthing commands to their Allmates. Since it's not an official match, Sei can't see what's happening. Drive-bys are scary when they happen to you, but honestly, they're kind of ridiculous to watch.

Sei can't do much but wait it out. He stands right beside his oblivious brother, arms crossed, and shakes his head. “I thought even you wouldn't pull something like this while I'm on a date.”

There. That feels better. Sei sits cross-legged on the sidewalk and tries to focus on reading something on his Coil. But as ridiculous as this whole situation is, he's a little tense. Although it won't affect their official standings, won't break anyone's undefeated streak, someone will have to lose.

And the way people sometimes end up after losing to Aoba…

It's a long match, and Sei ends up spending most of it with the number for an ambulance dialed out on his Coil and his finger over the call button, just in case.

But when the fight ends, Noiz is the first to speak. “That's impossible. You don't even have any mods on your Allmate.”

“Does it look like I cheated? Check the log. It's all legal. Shit, I'm surprised you're still standing.”

“You initiated the drive-by. I have no way to know for sure that you didn't modify the field.”

“So what, since I might have messed with something, you can't possibly have lost?”

“That's not what I'm saying. I just want to know how you did it.”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Excuse me,” Sei says loudly, and both of them turn, in surprise, to stare at him.

“Sei,” Aoba says uncomfortably. “Where did you come from?”

“I've been here since it started.”

Noiz frowns. He turns toward Sei, but won't look at him. “Was this all a setup, or what?”

Though the breeze has faded, Sei feels cold. “What do you mean?”

“It's obvious enough to me.” Noiz glances at Aoba. “I knew you were related. I knew you were both undefeated. It happens. But now Sly Blue just happens to show up for a drive-by while I'm out with his brother, and on top of that I can't figure out how he won it. I don't get it. What's your game?”

Anger flares up in Sei's heart, but he swallows it down. “I – Noiz, I…”

“Sei didn't have anything to do with this,” Aoba says, his voice a little shaky. “I didn't even know he was with you. I just wanted to fight you.”

“Right,” Noiz says, turning away from Aoba.

“Hey.” Aoba grabs Noiz's shoulder, and it's probably the shock more than his strength that makes Noiz look at him. He's holding on tight, all the same. He lowers his voice, and when he speaks, his words come out at a strange, slow, forceful pace. “I said, Sei didn't do anything.”

Sei steps back instinctively, ready again to call for help if either one of them takes this any further. But to his surprise, Noiz says, “Of course he didn't do anything. That doesn't make you look any smarter.”

Aoba doesn't defend himself. He lets go of Noiz. The relief on his face is obvious. “You two should just – get going, or whatever.”

“Not so fast. I still want to know how you won.”

“So you start the drive-by next time.”

“You're not fooling me with that again. Next time we fight, it'll be an official match, if I have anything to do with it.” He moves back to Sei's side. To Sei's relief, it seems like he's ready to keep walking and put this all behind them.

But Aoba, for all that he's willing to do for Sei, never has known when to stop. “You're going out to Rhyme tonight, aren't you? Why not try to go for it now?”

Noiz looks to Sei for an answer, and Sei sighs under his breath. “Fine. We'll make a party out of it.”

“Are you sure?” Noiz asks.

But Aoba is already strolling along the path they were headed down earlier. “Where'd you get that Allmate, anyway? That thing's so modded I bet you can barely lift it.”

“That's not quite how mods work. I'd think you'd know that by now.”

Sei follows, trying to listen to them talk, but in time he can't help tuning their voices out. It's going to be a long night.

-

The evening does, in fact, end up turning into a party. Usui never appears at the spot they try first, but Kou and Hagima, two of the guys from Koujaku's Rib team, are playing with the Allmates and watching. They're not Rhymers, but Kou always wants to tag along with Aoba (or, more accurately, wants to spend as much time as possible petting Ren), and Sei's got a theory that Hagima hangs around to try to keep them out of trouble.

Then some of Noiz's teammates join up, and by nightfall Virus and Trip have somehow wormed their way into the group. Within a few hours, once word has gotten around that there's an apparent alliance forming between two of Rhyme's most notorious players (meaning Noiz and Sly Blue; Sei doesn't figure into this unless one of them mentions his record), people none of them have ever met before are talking and laughing with them like old friends.

It's hard to get a word in with either Noiz or Aoba, but Virus and Trip always stick with Sei at times like this. Virus seems to have picked up on Sei's disappointment, because he keeps smoothing his hair tenderly and offering him sips from a flask of something strong. Sei drinks freely; he never did, after all, get around to taking any pain medicine, and after a few blocks of walking, he starts to hurt. Liquor does the job too, in a pinch.

The third venue they try is a success. The participant pool is small and crammed into a narrow lot where an old condemned house once stood. Sei is chosen to play against a member of Ruff Rabbit, a guy by the name of Cottontail, who can't be older than fourteen. He expects Noiz to warn him to go easy on the kid, or to hear people complain that someone more interesting than Sei wasn't selected, but none of that happens. He activates Myobu, toys with her settings for an instant, then lets the Rhyme field take him.

Cottontail's Allmate is a bunny who takes on the form of a floppy-eared, anime-style girl. Myobu's Rhyme form is styled after an ukiyo-e print, all pale colors and rounded lines. Her slow, practiced movements flow like paint on silk; the calligraphic runes announcing her actions shine in bright silver. Two-dimensional women fighting on a three-dimensional game field – it's jarring, which is how Sei likes it.

Sei wins without needing to let his will seep into the field, and he bursts free into the night, tipsy and flushed with unexpected joy. To Cottontail, he calls out, “Good game!”

The boy smiles shyly. Noiz claps him on the back to congratulate him, and he gets shyer still.

Then Noiz comes to Sei. “That was beautiful,” he says. “You fight like it's a form of art.”

“Isn't it?” Sei replies.

-

They tumble through the Black Needle, which has closed off its tattoo studio for the night. The whole space is filled with people dancing, talking, drinking, under multicolored lights. The heat put out by their bodies is more intoxicating than the alcohol.

Because Mizuki is there, Sei lets Noiz buy him a strong drink. Because Mizuki is there, he twines his fingers through Noiz's and lets their bandaged palms touch.

-

Halfway through the night they end up on the roof of an office building. It's not a frequent Rhyme venue, though Noiz and his teammates say all signs point to its use. Everyone's heard from a friend of a friend that matches up here have gotten so out of hand that they've called in military helicopters, or something equally preposterous, to break it up. No one was there to witness it, of course.

Usui shows up, and the cheer is loud enough to rouse the city from sleep. Noiz is passed over again, and so is Aoba. Sei isn't paying attention, but rather swaying on his feet and staring out toward the shiny dome of Platinum Jail, thinking vaguely of what Noiz said about finding information on the company that has its hold on the place, when Aoba puts an arm around him and nudges him forward. “You're up again. Knock 'em dead.”

Against odds, Sei has been chosen a second time. He forgets this opponent's name almost immediately after it's announced. What sticks in his mind is that she reminds him of the girl from the pizza place where Noiz always eats. Her Allmate is a sharp-toothed crocodile, and Sei is ruthless with her. The match ends fast, with Sei's eyes on the girl's. In that instant, they're connected, they're a closed circuit: Sei, the girl, their Allmates, the field. He doesn't know what happens after that. He just knows, when it's over, that he has won.

When he uses his power, it's just like his dreams. Darkness, then light. The knowledge that the world is far away. Then, the sensation of falling to pieces.

Then the guilt, which only comes with the dreams.

In evening shadows deepened by the sudden absence of the field, he locks eyes with the girl again and sees a frightening emptiness in her gaze. She staggers and presses a hand to her head, as if the loss physically aches.

“Sei,” Noiz begins, in a serious tone.

But he's cut off by the shriek of a megaphone aimed up at them from the ground, and everyone runs for a stairwell, hoping they've chosen an exit that won't be surrounded. Hand in hand with both Noiz and Aoba, he slips away easily and reconvenes with the others back at the Black Needle. By the time the chatter starts up again, it's not about Sei's victory but about their narrow escape.

Sei looks, but cannot find the girl he fought – or anyone who knows her – anywhere.

-

“Do you like boys?”

“You mean to date?”

“Mm-hm.”

They're on a different rooftop now; the roof of the Black Needle, which Sei only knows how to reach because Mizuki used to trust him. Sei isn't sure if they've told anyone where they were going. Aoba has sent him a message, but so what? Aoba never responds when he's supposed to, when Sei messages him.

“Yeah. I do,” Noiz answers.

Sei rests his head on Noiz's shoulder, the way he did for a moment on the night they first met. Which was just last night, wasn't it? He laughs. “Do you like girls?”

“I date pretty much everyone.”

Sei looks at his fingernails. Moonlight catches the silver glitter. Koujaku's careful work has already scratched and chipped, but Sei likes it better this way. It suits him. “What if I'm both?”

“Nail polish doesn't make you a certain gender, you know.”

“I know.” Sei giggles. “I didn't think you'd notice it.”

“Hard to miss.”

Noiz stretches his hand out, presses it against Sei's. Sei's fingers are longer, but they fit together well. Would fit better, Sei thinks, without the padding of bandages between them. He asks, “Are you hurt?”

“What if I am?”

“Then I hope you heal soon.”

“What if I don't?”

“Hey, I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions.”

“Says who?”

Sei doesn't have an answer for that, so he kisses Noiz's cheek. And when Noiz tilts his head forward to catch Sei's mouth, he falls into it. There's no thought this time, no hesitation, just Noiz's tongue pressing softly between Sei's lips. Sei sucks on it, even carelessly bites down a little, and to his surprise, Noiz moans.

Then Noiz pulls away, and the kiss is over as quickly as it started. Sei looks at him, watching his face to see if he wanted it. But as always, he's hard to read.

“Noiz?” Sei says. “What if there's something wrong with me?”

“Wrong how?”

“I don't know. What if I'm just...different from everyone else?”

“What if I already know that, and don't mind?”

“There are things you don't know.”

“No one's the same as anybody else, anyway. Not even you and your twin.”

“That doesn't count. Aoba and I...we're like two different parts of the same thing. We're not even whole people when we're apart.”

“Hm. That's going to be a problem.”

“Why's that?”

Noiz tilts Sei's chin up and allows their lips to brush once more. “Because I like having you all to myself.”