#intotherainbow

   Ryoken may have held Yusaku’s hand as he led him to the trap that was the lost Incident, but Spectre sat side by side with Yusaku many times in that kindergarten classroom. Spectre’s heart thudded in his chest as he recalled that missed connection.

   The pecking order of the orphanage that he had once belonged to was brutal. Inescapable. Even at school. The older children would make sure that the children who had parents and regular family lives and homes would know to avoid him. Bully him. Keep him at the very bottom of that chain that kept him tethered and, well, weird.

   Spectre didn’t mind, of course. He would have avoided the new children that he mixed with at the public kindergarten and elementary school the orphanage enrolled some of their wards to anyway, by his own volition. But then there was that other boy he met by some chance of bureaucracy. Some administrator deciding that the new, transient kid could go into the same kindergarten class as he and he had the same problem as Spectre. Something about him… It just made the other children turn on him, but at least Spectre was outwardly off-putting. He couldn’t see a fault in that boy’s green eyes.

   Or maybe that was just retroactive bias. At first, Spectre had been vehement on disliking this boy. He avoided him just like he avoided the other children and seeing he was being purposefully ignored, the boy tried to socialise with other children but the other children were uninterested, even outright cruel to him.

   Then someone had a very bright idea of attempting to the pit the two, socially awkward boys at the bottom of the pecking order against them. It didn’t work, of course. Spectre saw right through the deception but poor Yusaku, he didn’t.

   “My name is Fujiki Yusaku,” he introduced himself in a great, big gust of breath, gawky and flustered, “and they told me to be your friend.”

   Yusaku pointed to a crowd of other children. They snickered and cackled, Yusaku didn’t know what was so funny. Spectre did, however, and he promptly ignored Yusaku. He stared, dull-eyed, at Yusaku for a moment and then returned to what he had been doing before: colouring in the drawing that he had made.

   Yusaku stood by Spectre’s desk for a moment. He felt caught in between two worlds. The other children were still laughing and it was really starting to make his skin crawl since he still didn’t know what was so funny. But Spectre, however, in front of him, seemed entirely uninterested in Yusaku but Yusaku’s eyes were going wide. He could see what Spectre was drawing.

   “That’s so good.” Yusaku gasped and he sat down next to Spectre.

   Spectre was unnerved by how genuine and excited Yusaku sounded. He stopped what he was doing and clenched very tightly onto the green oil pastel he had been smearing on the paper. Yusaku continued to stick his head very close to Spectre so he could see more of the drawing.

    “Did you draw that?” Yusaku asked.

   Grumpily, Spectre replied, “Yes.”

   “It's so good!” Yusaku praised him again. “Is it a tree?”

   “It’s my Mother.” Spectre said in a very quiet voice. He had been roughhouse before, many times before, whenever he tried to talk about his Mother because yes, she was a tree but she was still so much more than that to him. She was alive, she was his world.

   “But you're not a tree?” Yusaku asked, puzzled. “So how can your Mother be a tree?”

   “She just is.” Spectre replied, getting annoyed but he tried to zone Yusaku out, still colouring in the foliage of his Mother whom he had drawn.

   “I see.” Yusaku replied. “That’s cool.”

   Spectre felt his ears twitch. That’s… cool. He had never been agreed with before. Or at the very least, not verbally attacked for being strange and unusual for thinking a tree to be his mother. He took another look at Yusaku and his eyes were very green, very verdant, and even his name was as it was wreathed in wisteria. It almost made Spectre jealous, it was a lot prettier a name than the one that the orphanage had given him.

   “Thank you…” Spectre murmured as he kept colouring in, smearing green on the paper and as much as he did on the side of his small, pudgy hand.

   He thought Yusaku was going to leave. He’d been entwined in a very poor practical joke and that should have been enough. He didn’t, though. Instead, he pestered Spectre with questions about his ideas for the world, about again, how his Mother could be a tree, if he wasn’t and such like that. And for once, Spectre didn’t mind as these questions were coming from a place of good faith, he wasn’t being asked to be mocked. And so, Yusaku listened, enraptured by the theology that his fellow five year old preached.

   But such friendship was not fated to last. Yusaku’s family moved around a lot. He never told Spectre why. This stint at this particular kindergarten was only meant for a month and by the end of it, they had to say goodbye but Spectre wanted to remember the kindness that Yusaku had shown him. He was such a happy, friendly child, starkly different to the grumpy demeanour Spectre held himself with but what little they had shared together truly did mean the world to Spectre.

   Who would have thought the children they had both been would both endure the same Incident. Spectre had enjoyed it. Yusaku had endured it. Spectre could forget the harsh memories he had of the outside world in those white walls that confined him. Yusaku was made to forget them, the trauma genuinely erasing his memories. Spectre was accepted after the Incident, by the very scientists who had orchestrated it but Yusaku was abandoned afterwards.

   Spectre couldn’t even take relish in knowing he had been right. That Yusaku had been loved and cherished prior to the Incident, Spectre recalled how Yusaku had spoken of his very busy and very industrious parents but despite their work, he had never felt secondary to it. What a very rare blessing with an unfortunate end, Spectre mused.

   As much as Ai loved his more costume-like everyday wear, it was a bit too inconspicuous for such a dull and domestic outing like going to buy homeware essentials. So, he was in a turtleneck and jeans, all his robotic-joints of his SOLtiS body safely hidden away under soft wool and worn denim. He and Yusaku looked quite good together in his similar casual wear of jeans a hoodie too, in Ai’s opinion. They must look like quite the pair of honeymoon phase lovebirds from an outside perspective as they wandered about collecting things and just generally doing couple things, like holding hands.

   For every hand Ai had in a pile of cushions or stuffed animals, he also kept his other hand on Yusaku as they ambled about in search of new decorations. They were holding hands, coiled up around each other, generally keeping shoulder to shoulder, even if one had his head in the clouds and the other was searching far more realistically than that. For now, they were looking for new bedding and maybe some new towels for both the kitchen and the bathroom. Just small touches like that but Ai, naturally, had huge ideas.

   This was going to be their first love nest! They had finally moved out of Yusaku’s crummy, high school era apartment and into something which didn’t have a single crack in the wall and had fantastic heating and kindly seeming neighbours. It really felt like their prospects were looking up and for the better. All in the form of a place they could really, truly call their own and host parties and spend quality time with each other in every way, shape, and form. Ai wanted nothing but the best for himself and Yusaku. Yusaku just wanted to make sure to have money for rent and dinner afterwards, needing neither sleep nor food, Ai often forgot that.

   “Ooh, what about these ones?” Ai asked. “Doesn’t it look so warm and cosy, a real statement piece if you ask me.”

   Yusaku just glared. This was absolutely, definitely not what he had in mind to buy for himself - and despite what Ai seemed to think, it was for himself. He just stared at the item that Ai had picked out from the various blocks of doonas all packaged up in plastic and piled on one another. He had chosen a very Gothic-looking doona pattern which depicted a black and purple laden fairy with pale, eerie skin and she was holding a skull in one hand and a rose in the other. Her expression was melancholic, her clothes torn and decrepit, her butterfly-like wings were limp and glistening in the middle of a murky swamp that frayed at the edge. It would have looked good in an emo teenage girl’s bedroom. Yusaku was none of those things.

   “No.” he said flatly.

   “Aw, why? It's dramatic, theatrical, and look at that thread count, its quality for its price.” Ai begged.

   “It's just not to my tastes.” Yusaku told him.

   “You're no fun.” Ai pouted and his eyes continued to scan the selection in front of them both. And then he saw something that caught his attention again, making his pupils dilate and a grin pop up on his face again. “What about this one?” he asked.

   He pushed a couple of bricks of bedding out of the way and showed off one that was just barely visible through the stack. He picked it up and showed its design off to Yusaku and Yusaku actually didn’t mind it. It was nice. Tasteful, subtle, that sort of thing.

   The bedding set that Ai had picked out this time was of a dark, muted purple with grey geometric designs that implied a nighttime scene of the moon and stars. It mightn’t have been quite as mature than if it was just the dark, muted purple colour but it was a good compromise for the master bedroom that they were both looking for so it was more than acceptable.

   “I like it.” Yusaku smiled.

   “See, I knew you would.” Ai puffed out his chest as he laid the bedding box in their trolley. “I could be an interior designer one day, you know.”

   “Hm, really? What would you call your business then? Interior Design by the Purple People Eater?” Yusaku indulged him as he got out his notebook from his back pocket so he could tick one item off his list. They only had a couple more things left to buy and if he was lucky, only things which he had written down prior to leaving their new apartment would end up in their trolley by the end of it but at the same time. It was fun to indulge Ai sometimes.

   “Why yes, actually, that’s a very good name for my designs.” Ai teased. 

   “Good. Then why don’t we go to the bathroom section next and pick out some towels.” Yusaku said. “And if you do a good job at staying under budget, I’ll let you pick out some bric-a-brac even.”

   Ai’s eyes flashed, excited, “Yes, that sounds great. I’ll find us the cutest soap dispensers next, don’t you worry. Or a nice jar to keep your toothbrush in.” Ai gushed, sounding very determined.

   He knew what he wanted. He wanted a good, fine warrior with feats of strength to their name but he hoped for a kind soul all the same. One who protected, not destroyed. Yes, Prince Flame thought he would have much compatibility with someone who was like that and so, a great contest began. To become consort to the great and regal Prince Flame of the Cyberse Realm.

   News of such a rare prize to be had in the form of Prince Flame’s hand in perpetual companionship spread far and wide. From the towns and cities close to the kingdom’s palace to far into the hinterlands by the north-eastern beaches and caught the attention of a young man looking to strike it big. He figured that consort was a fancy word for bodyguard and he considered himself to be of great integrity and so, he bade his tiny village home goodbye and made his way to the citadel, hopeful that his fate was about to change - and for the better.

   Prince Flame orchestrated great games and fanfare in the capital city of he and his family’s realm. He oversaw the festivities with great mirth. Small activities that led to bigger and better things: a gladiatorial match was to be the jewel in their crown over all the carnival games and tug-of-wars that they held throughout the city.

   The best of the best coming forth as the cream of the crop through all the different stakes and matches. The best of the best had truly come to gather for Prince Flame’s entertainment and companionship, a jovial atmosphere took over the citadel despite the bloodlusting undercurrent of it all. Sword eaters and fire spinners, warriors and maidens, they all competed just so they might earn the favour of one of the realm’s leaders.

   But there was one that spurred rumours that caught even Prince Flame’s attention. As the end of the week began to dwindle and come down to the wire, it was the warrior from the small town to the north east coast that caught attention wherever he went.

   Seemingly unassuming at first with his glasses and mop of fluffy white hair, he soon proved himself just as capable or maybe more than ten men from the royal guard. He was down to earth and humble, endearing himself to the inner city common folk and even aristocrats alike, by the time that the colosseum opened, all chanted his name: Takeru! Takeru! Takeru!

   From his place in the lap of luxury and victory, Prince Flame observed eagerly as the ones who had been deemed graciously to fit his specifications as a lover fought not only each other but untamed animals and traps. The colosseum was alive with death and bloodshed, swords and axes, polearms and lances, it was all fair game in love and war.

   Prince Flame was enthralled by the action and the violence at it unfolded before him in the sandstone arena. It was a blaze of utmost glory, the passion that burned captivated Prince Flame like none other, his heart was racing and all his attention was on the small time kiddo that no one had heard of before until now.

   His form was clumsy but he more than made up for it in strength and dexterity. The grin that he bore and the sweat that he glistened with was handsome and shining. Prince Flame couldn’t even imagine tearing away his eyes from this youth - Takeru - as he defended himself from the other men and women, even animals such as bears and lions, on this platform of the royals. The sun shone dry and hard, illuminating the indomitable spirit of one individual in this battle and one individual alone.

   At the end of the hours of the fight, Prince Flame descended, well rested and beautiful, so he could finally meet the warrior who had seized his heart like none other. He was calm, had all but a sashay to his hips, as he drew closer to the utterly exhausted but utterly victorious Takeru.

   “Congratulations,” Prince Flame bade his victor, admiring all the stern curves of his well toned body, his eye catching on the sharp glint of his sword as it reflected the last of the orange sunset, “you have earned a most envious prize.”

   He hazarded a smile. It was self-satisfied yet earnest, “Thank you, I’ve been trying hard.” he replied.

   “I imagine I need no introduction but you… You the rumoured golden boy, you could do with one.” Prince Flame teased him. His heart fluttered, he could sense how Takeru’s soul burned most impressively and now, Prince Flame could claim the honour of having such a youth as his and his alone, it was positively selfish and yet it delighted him with lust and glee.

   “Y-Yeah…” he stuttered out an embarrassed laugh, he corrected his posture even though it was clear he wanted to slump into bed, and Prince Flame hoped to do so the same beside him, “I’m Takeru of the Homura clan, it is a pleasure to become your consort. I vow to stay by your side, protect and adore you.”

   “That’s what I like to hear, love.” Prince Flame said and he took Takeru’s free hand so he could crown him with the object of all desire. He gently threaded a golden ring around Takeru’s thick, corresponding finger. He nuzzled Takeru’s palm and looked up at him with a gentle ember of burgeoning love unto him. “I shall look forward to our married life.”

   Takeru stiffened and in a very tiny voice, he asked, “D-Does consort not mean bodyguard?” 

   Prince Flame blinked and was taken aback by the question. “No,” he chortled, most amused but in good nature per the shine in his amber-coloured eyes, “it means lover. But I have a feeling I would be very safe in your hands.”

   She had supported him for ten, long years. She had cooked and cleaned for him, she had been a dutiful childhood friend to him. She paid more rent than he did in their shared apartment whilst he chased dreams of getting famous, she was scrubbing toilets. His parents had been so disappointed in them both when they ran away together to chase the coattails of the rich and famous rather than take over the family business of innkeeping in the boonies and now look at them. They didn’t even have a scrap of friendship left to show for it because at the end of the day, Ryoken was just using Miyu as free labour.

   “I know how things ended the other day,” that husky, male voice said in the phone as Miyu listened, “but I still love you. Don’t leave me, I’m coming soon to get you from the train station.

   Oh. Hell. Fucking. No.

   Miyu couldn’t describe it but she just felt rage burn inside her. Her heart rate went up immediately and she couldn’t control her words or actions. She heard Ryoken’s voice in that phone recording rather than some generic male actor that belonged to this studio she was trying to get picked up from at. 

   She flung the phone on the ground and she broke the goddamn prop, stomping on it, she railed and cussed and it was an entire ordeal. Nothing like the graceful, serene forgiveness this shitty ex-boyfriend character got from the other girls, especially that Zaizen Aoi girl. Miyu wasn’t even acting, she was just venting. She wasn’t even trying to be like other girls as she whinged and wailed in her misplaced furor, she just wanted to get all the feelings in her head out.

   What a waste that would all turn out to be. Miyu had gone to class after class, she had thrown herself at her part-time job right up until she quit. She made the most beautiful cabbage rose on stage as her unique skill for that portion of the talent section and then, when she finally made it all but to curtain call, the acting exercise had turned into that. She had tried so hard to get that far and she had blown it on that. Kind of worth it though. Save for that disgustingly pink jumpsuit that she was expected to wear as part of her induction to the Skip Beat programme. 

   See, whilst Miyu may have blown her shot at becoming a normal actress, she did have a saving grace. The director saw something in her. Some kind of shine in her eyes, she was different, he had to give her that and so, just for her - and one other girl in the same boat as her, though she didn’t know who yet - he created two casual positions as part of the Skip Beat programme. Basically, she was their odd-jobber, everything from cleaning to actual minor parts on variety shows, everything she would need to rebuild her career from scratch and maybe learn to behave along the way, too.

   God she wishes she could have been like that Zaizen Aoi girl. 

   Miyu doesn’t even remember seeing Zaizen at the prior rounds. Maybe there were other rooms or days they were hosting from or maybe she had called ahead to say she couldn’t make it because the first time they saw each other was at the final acting round of the talent scouting and she had been a show stopper. Everything about her took Miyu’s breath away. Her performance had been that stunning, she had been the first to go in the acting round and she left a very high standard.

   She heard that very same phone call as Miyu and whilst she did break the performance, it was hearts she broke, not the prop itself. At just that word, a magnificent tear was shed and streaked down her cheek as she graciously was saved by the ex-boyfriend character from herself. Her performance was nothing less than divine and convincing, like an angel of performing arts had stepped down from heaven just to appear on that woody-coloured stage and sit in those plastic chairs.

   “Yes, of course,” she cried, majestic and demure, not overly dramatic yet her drama was delectable, “I understand. The engagement is back on. I love you, too.”

   Everything about her was beautiful. Her tone of voice and her makeup, her coiffed, brunette hair and her brown eyes. Yet even so, she had a humble serenity about her. It was obvious that out of everyone here today, she was the likeliest to become the next big thing, a mega-star of fame and fortune with her acting and her beauty and yet. She didn’t have an air of arrogance about her, she graciously thanked her competitors for being her competitors and the judging panel all the same, and also the crew who were doing the lights and sounds, the prop master. She had the most immaculate etiquette.

   Miyu couldn’t help but be a little bit envious as there was no way in hell that the Zaizen Aoi would ever-

   There was a knock on the change room door and someone came in. Someone with brown hair and brown eyes, wearing that very same ghastly pink jumpsuit as Miyu and Miyu couldn’t believe it. Her jaw dropped with the utmost, awestruck confusion as this person came in through the staff only door.

   “Aoi?!” she exclaimed.

   Aoi’s eyes went wide and she blushed, averting her eyes. Miyu got the feeling from it that she was remembered from the audition, but not for any good reason but. This didn’t make any sense. Aoi was an undiscovered gem of actress, why on Earth would she be the other half of the Skip Beat programme?

   Aoi came closer and she sat down on the bench that Miyu had been miserating sitting upon. They sat somewhat close and Aoi kept her knees primly together, placing her hand atop of them and speaking more to her cuticles than to Miyu, she explained exactly what she was doing here.

   “You seem surprised to see me.” Aoi awkwardly said. “I can’t say I’m shocked to see you here.” She giggled. “Your acting audition left quite the impression.”

   “Yay, woo…” Miyu sarcastically mumbled to herself.

   “But it was all your own hard work. You clawed your way through the trials but… but I bought my way in.” Aoi said. She frowned. “I didn’t want to, but my ever doting older brother paid for me to skip to the final round. I begged and pleaded but the money had already gone through. It was obvious but I still informed the adjudicators of this and was disqualified but… But the director gave me a second chance in the form of being part of the Skip Beat programme, with you.”

   “With me.” Miyu echoed.

   “So we will be seeing a lot of each other now, as co-workers.” Aoi stiffly said.

   “Yup, so we better get along, eh?” Miyu laughed. She reached out for Aoi’s hand and she moved it to between them, Miyu placed hers atop of Aoi’s. “It’ll be us against the world, ‘cause look at us? We’re a joke! I’m Little Miss Anger Issues and your Little Miss Trust Fund Baby, lol, what a pair we make. And in these horrible outfits the director wants us to wear? Ew! But we’ll make it to the top, we have to.”

   “Yeah, we do, I want to prove my older brother wrong, that I can make it in the world without his micromanaging.” Aoi huffed.

   “And I want to out-famous my B-List ex!” Miyu raised her voice and she held Miyu’s hand tightly before thrusting them up in the air. “To the sisters of the Skip Beat Program, cheer for us!” she yelled.