‘  Yet  ’  —  that  was  the  keyword,  wasn't  it?  And  it  didn't  go  unnoticed,  evident  in  the  minute  scowl  it  earned.  A  warning,  if  nothing  else,  because  her  fists  would  go  flying  the  second  he  tried  to  pull  one  of  his  doppel  stunts.  She  relaxed  again  with  his  promise. 

       ❝   Seriously?   ❞   Her  jump  at  the  notion  was  sincere,  but  she  quickly  reeled  herself  back  in.   ❝   I  mean--  …   ❞   Now  it  was  her  turn  to  shrink  back  some.   ❝   I  couldn't  ask  you  t'  do  that.   ❞   She  wouldn't.  She  didn't  want  him  around  for  any  form  of  replacement  and  she  wanted  to  make  that  clear.   (   Even  if  she  totally  would  have  loved  to  give  up  a  chore  or  two.   )   ❝   Thanks  though.   ❞ 

' yeah , seriously ! ' sure , it might've been a while since he'd ever done anyone's dishes or folded laundry after letting it dry , but he was more than confident that he could manage despite what sorts of doubts anyone else might have had . her enthusiasm makes him grin and laugh ; her soft decline , too . it makes me happy to be trusted enough to be relied on , is what he could have said , but without wanting to bring up a nerve-wracking topic like that , he only shakes his head at her instead . ' it's fine , so just tell me whatever , whenever . there's no way someone like me'll ever be able ta live straight an' do some crap like get an honest job , so it's the least i could do . already told seiko too --- if you won't put me ta work , i'm sure she will . '

there's the faintest, ragged inhale at the recalling of deeds done, burdens borne, things endured and endured until they should not be anymore, but are still borne anyway. ' because someone has to endure them '. the cosmos will stop turning if he doesn't, irontomb will rise from their shared tomb laid by dawnmaker. you'll never know sleep again, his mind teases him, cruel, relentless, self-hating.

but the cosmos lives for it, right ? the friends can see the dawn because of time bought, right ? so why are you sick when you're alone ?

a swallow, throat dry, a low rasp that holds none of his guileless smile, his playful charm. those sun-bright rays.

" so you know me, and yet...you don't. not truly. you have a map, but you can't reach the destination. " it's better that way, he what, wants to warn them? this being who wears his face ? and why his face? why his ? there's a surge of odd grief for someone he doesn't even know.

maybe the grief is 'for' both of them.

" it must not have...been easy to see all that. for what it's worth, i feel..almost as if i'm the one that owes you an apology. no one should...have to endure those kinds of things. you shouldn't have. not by choice. at least...that's what i think ── did...it hurt? "

a swallow, trying to recall that he doesn't have to swallow, that he can breathe - that there isn't smoke and fire filling his lungs, cracking his skin from the inside out -- he can breathe like any other person.

" i suppose... that flame is to bear on my own. always. i knew that, though. and...ultimately i can't imagine a life where i haven't. lives, i suppose. " phainon's gaze is not effusive and bright, but remnants of how it looked in a cycle unending, where heroes plummet and fall, by the sword, by fire, by sun. where one hero carries the sun, the stars and the world on his back, by blood, by sword, by anguish. by hatred, rage and consuming love.

" .... you're not a dream, are you ? " i didn't want to burn. i didn't want to hurt. i didn't want anything but the happiness and future of those i love.

' ... who can say ? ' to being nothing more than a dream , or perhaps , somehow , not one , reality askew and perpetually shifting in mirage-like waves about its bizarre non-self . ' if ... given the opportunity to choose , however ... i would rather just be a dream than a nightmare . '

the truth , for whatever it was , was a thing that only ever seemed to ruin and poison it . how it would have liked to confess that it too had lived a seemingly endless existence compressed into the inhumane confines of a square-foot tank or isolated canister . nothing more than a curio meant to be bare - scrutinized by wandering legions of identical researchers , gazed upon with deaf apathy , antipathy ; ultimately deemed less of any interest or value than its own cruel , claustrophobia - inducing containers .

thirty - three million cycles . ( multiply it by its own infinite zeroes , and that was ... )

endurable . it was what was endured .

the touch upon the other is acceptant . strangely cool in its temperature , and near - brotherly . the sentiment its mimic features express , ( something caught between sympathy , shame - apology , and a reserved , yet bidding welcome , ) precedes what explication at least that it had wanted to give .

' your friends were searching for you . they asked me to find you , and this was the surest way that i knew how . ' in that sense perhaps the other had been both map and destination all along , and now , here they were . ' it was ... surprising at first , i'll admit . but phantom pains can only reach me by the half . when you live as many lives as there are stars , and glimpse into everyone's agonies , and loves , and relations ... ' its second hand clasps over the space of its mock - heart : an act of sincerity .

no human should have sanely been able to withstand anything of theirs ,

and yet .

       Deadpan,  she  watched  Yan  Qing  process.  He  …  didn't  know  what  there  was  to  talk  about  here  either,  did  he?   —  Which  was  actually  kinda  funny,  and  she  may  have  laughed  if  not  for  her  disbelief  he  hadn't  come  with  a  plan  other  than  BECOMING  GYARU.   (   Kogal  slaaaaay!   ) 

       Her  features  shifted,  an  air  of  casualty  replacing  her  previous  stoicism.  Eyes  wandering  off  to  one  side,  she  mused,   ❝   Well,  we've  got  movie  night  on  Wednesday.   ❞   The  special  edition  DVD  Okarun  had  gotten  her  was  on  the  menu  that  night  —  though  they'd  probably  talk  through  the  majority  of  it   (   she'd  already  watched  it  about  five  times  herself   ).  Her  hand  rose  to  twiddle  her  hair  some.   ❝   I  dunno  …  I  guess,  like  …  I'm  busy  a  lot,  y'know?  So  we  just  don't  get  to  hang  out  as  much.   ❞   Even  when  they  came  to  visit  her  at  the  cafe   (   to  tease  her   )   their  conversations  were  clipped.  The  most  time  they  spent  together  mowadays  was  between  classes.   

                  Ugh,  this  serious  air  was  seriously  stifling! 

       ❝   Yes,  weird,   ❞   she  returned  with  narrowed  eyes.  Something  …  There  was  something  he  wasn't  telling  her  …

            Ah,  but  she  could  say  that  about  everyone  now,  couldn't  she?             It  seemed  everyone  was  keeping  something  from  her  nowadays. 

       And  she   HATED   it.  Hated  it,  hated  it,  hated  it!  Hated  how  her  and  Jiji  had  apparently  already  had  their  shocking  first  reintroduction.  Hated  how  there  was  this  weird  feeling  in  her  gut  —  comforting  yet  disconcerting  —  whenever  she  saw  ‘  Okarun  ’  and  the  inexplicable  fury  that  bubbled  up  within  her  whenever  Shiratori  snaked  her  arms  around  him.  No  matter  how  hard  she  tried  —  and  trust  and  believe,  she'd  tried  —  she  couldn't  seem  to  grab  it,  that  lingering  something  at  the  edge  of  her  mind.  Long  nights  were  spent  trying,  with  tears  she  had  no  knowledge  of  from  whence  they  came. 

       They'd  told  her  she'd  lost  her  memories.  But  how  did  something  like  that  just  happen?  She  was  healthy  by  all  accounts  —  that  she  could  remember  —  so  how  did  one  simply  wake  up  and  forget?  It  felt  like  a  lie.  All  of  it  ;  the  life  she  lived  now,  the  relationships  they'd  had  to  tell  her  about,  the  whole  ‘  stick  close  to  someone  always  '  schtick. 

                And  as  much  as  she  hated  it  …  it  hurt  too. 

       It  made  her  sick  to  her  stomach,  nauseated  from  the  weight  of  it  all.  If  things  were  as  they  said,  why  couldn't  they  just  tell  her  why?  Why  had  this  happened  to  her?  She'd  laughed,  joked,  bantered  since  she  came  to,  but  not  once  she'd  woken  had  she  felt  true  peace.  How  could  she?  Every  second  spent  trying  to  remember  was  excruciating. 

‘  Not  because  of  you  or  anything  …  ’

       Another  lie.  So  she  punched  his  shoulder.   ❝   Who  ya  callin'  fragile,  huh?   ❞   Her  fists  idled  in  front  of  her.   ❝   Baddies-smaddies.  I'd  like  t'  see  someone  try  to  get  one  over  on  me.   ❞   (   Hotheaded  as  always.   )   He  slooowed  his  pace  and  she  made  sure  to  match,  thumbs  now  hooked  in  the  straps  of  her  backpack.  She  breathed  the  faintest  sigh.  Normally,  she  might  have  laughed  at  his  antics.  Today  she  couldn't  find  the  humor  to.

                   He  was  changing  the  subject.                                                           Of  course  he  was.

she's frustrated , obviously . no , not even just that . this was different from her usual hot-headedness , the don't-give-a-damn temper that he'd long already grown used to and so often prodded to playfully rile . on any other day before , he'd have laughed too . with her ; both of them sparking off each other's smiles and turning their feelings into something that he could always cling to as a comforting reminder that they really were that close .

here and now , with everything going quiet between them , he can barely bring himself to face the difference : momo had to be flat out depressed .

and yet somehow , he still manages to keep a smile . anything to try to combat the awkward at best , harrowing at worst atmosphere , even if any upbeat attempt just made everything else feel completely out of place . dissonant . vamola got to cook ? is what he's about to ask at first --- but then of course the other question comes , and so the interrogation starts and he feels a sweat breaking out at his palms , his hands trying to squeeze out any and all evidence while their prime , damning witness was distracted .

think .

' ... i don't think it's for me to say . ' which was to say --- crap , he needed an excuse , and fast . whatever it took to steer momo away from any suspicions over him , him , beginning with diverting her away from the very thought and considering possibility of any paranormal existence beneath her childhood friend's skin . ' miss seiko said that we should just leave things be , so ... '

these were things being left . ( left behind ? he hoped not . ) as his mind tried to balance everything all at once , ( jiji's influence , his own , on top of readily attempting to predict momo's conversational steps and feelings , ) he realizes once more just how helpless he's really become . even like this , a part of him relentlessly greedy just to be able to talk to her , there wasn't a single part of him that was wholly convinced it could somehow turn things around and cheer her up ; make her happy .

And then there's a bit right at the end of the story as the wife and the husband are walking out of court:

Jill turned abruptly. "What is your name? Your real name."

The man's gray eyes flickered. He smiled a little, kind, gentle smile. "I'm afraid you would not be able to pronounce it. The sounds cannot be formed..."

Jill was silent as they walked along, deep in thought. The city lights were coming on all around them. Bright yellow spots in the gloom. "What are you thinking?" the man asked.

"I was thinking perhaps I will still call you Lester," Jill said. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind," the man said. He put his arm around her, drawing her close to him. He gazed down tenderly as they walked through the thickening darkness, between the yellow candles of light that marked the way. "Anything you wish. Whatever will make you happy."

And I. God. There's something there. A soupcon of monsterfuckery. To tell your partner in a moment of intimacy that yes, you're something so inhuman that the lips you're stealing can't speak your actual name. You're a parasite that not only had the ability to burrow under this man's skin and take over his life, but you were so desperate to escape a dead, dry, blasted planet that you did.

instead , he doesn't say anything . doesn't bother to correct her that no not really , it didn't always work like that when it came to pilfering ( inheriting ) others' memories ; that right now it was just him and her and he wouldn't have needed anything else to tell that she was serious , anyways , because nobody else had ever taken him this seriously in the first place , especially not when bereft of the lie ( the sweet , comforting belief , ) that he was still somehow , something human .

' momo ... ' his gaze drops downwards and for a moment he thinks they might end up in other circles . whether or not she cared , it was still wrong . it was wrong . he was wrong . it was wrong to force her to endure ; to be forced to helplessly watch her endure because of him , and so abandonment would have been ( had to have been ) best before the slow , excruciating treadmill of disillusionment took hold and he lost all the rest of his pathetic fool's gold luster . her people , your people ... no one's island had a place for tossed strays and castaways . not anymore . not ever since ( ... ) to him , it seemed as if everyone was always born right into things like family and friendship and their very own place , and the only way to get one now , hopeless and faceless , was to take it .

if that was all there was to it , then the only thing left would have been to kill momo after all . right here , outside the barrier that he had bargained ( swindled ) her out of himself . away from safety and security and protection and all the little things that she was able to call hers . home . his cheeks flush at the word . the way it beckoned as it made anyone's mouth and mind wrap around the syllables . the way it stung and ached like a punched bruise and made him feel weak , so much that a hand lifts and tries to hide the rest of his face away . it's hard not to feel ashamed of himself . it's hard not to know that he was doing , had done so much wrong , and yet still couldn't help but want , want - want - want from the bottom of a heart that he had tried to close up and throw away into his darkest and most deepest place , where it still decided to beat inside of an otherwise empty , beggarly tin can .

       Momo  stood  quiet,  but  tall  and  self-assured  with  a  smile  laden  with  hope  ;  hope  that  he  would  see  and  understand  her  too.  She  meant  every  word.  If  he  chose  to  leave,  she  refused  to  let  him  go  easy.  If  he  chose  to  kill  her,  well  …  she  wasn't  sure  of  the  odds,  but  she  certainly  wouldn't  go  down  without  a  fight.  But  if  he  chose  the  ‘  super  secret  third  option  ’,  her  invitation  for  that  safe  place  to  land   (   if  he'd  allow  himself   ),  she  meant  that  too  —  and  she  hoped  he  would  accept.

       She  awaited  his  answer  wordlessly,  though  the  hand  coming  to  shield  his  face  did  earn  a  curious  look.  Clearly  he  was  thinking  …  Of  what,  she  wished  he'd  tell  her  —  but  she'd  already  decided  to  mind  her  thirst  for  knowledge  as  much  as  her  tongue.  Instead,  she  opted  for  studying  him  while  he  seemed  to  writhe  under  the  weight  of  his  own  thoughts  ;  his  own  internal  warfare. 

       When  he  finally  spoke  again,  her  eyes  widened  some,  puzzled.  All  that  …  And  all  he  had  to  say  was  this? 

       Momo  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter  ;  the  kind  that  had  her  nigh  tears,  curled  over  herself  with  her  arms  wrapped  over  her  stomach.  For  as  short  a  time  she'd  known  him  —  and  the  time  she  had  known  the  actual  ‘  him  ’  being  even  shorter  —  it  was  so  …  Yan  Qing. 

       One  spell  of  laughter  later,  she  stood  upright,  wiping  away  the  one  tear  —  found  only  in  joy  —  that  had  slipped.   ❝   Forreal?  That's  what  you're  worried  about?   ❞   He  truly  fretted  over  the  weirdest  things!  Settled  down,  she  added,   ❝   Don't  worry,  it'll  be  on  us.   ❞   Or  rather,  her  grandma  —  but  surely  she  wouldn't  mind.  ‘  Life  begins  with  food  ‘  was  an  ideal  she’d  always  adhered  to. 

                  Ah!  But  that  also  meant  — 

                " i'm going to save your life too. "

                her gaze softened momentarily, before the SMILE slowly faded from her expression. because she was it. she saw that stubbornness in the eyes she had seen more than enough times to know just how far he was willing to go in order to achieve that result. now he was comparing himself to the KING OF KNIGHTS. he was going to reverse the curse and fate she had made peace with.

it would have been impure and desperate and ugly , but it would have been work , just enough to keep him something close to sane , with a mind unsparingly focused on nothing but every relentless step until she was finally , somehow , one way or another returned to him . healthy . happy . because that was what he had swore to her ever since she had begun granting the same to him , his eyes mewling while his cheeks flushed reddish-pink at the gentle card of her fingers through his hair .

he couldn't imagine any worse sadism than this . her touch , the kindest he had ever been given , while her words remained the cruelest that she could have ever said . but that was just who his master --- misaya was . in the end , any cowardice ; discomfort , was his . and it wouldn't have done to lie or pathetically try to save face in front of her . no doubt she would have been able to tell , and been displeased by any lie .

' ... you'd hate it if i ended up existing alone , only ever crying out and moping for you . ' wasn't that right ? his glance into her eyes affirms otherwise ; that he wouldn't , that it would have been a waste of far too precious time . even more than that , it sounded far too selfish to be the only one throwing himself into an immeasurable , nightmarish grief . ' as a warrior ... i'm prepared to accept the possibility of my death , as well as the deaths of others . but as me --- me , ' his muscles twitch and with it his arms shift to hold her . his mock - armor soon darkens , sky - steel unraveling itself into black wraps and flowering tattoos .

still just a shadow . a voice in the dark .

' i'm scared that i might have to somehow live on without you . ' the slightest tremble in his grip too confessed as much . ' there's nothing else that i want . what's a servant without a master ? you're the only one who knows just who i really am --- and not only that , but it's just not right . there's no reason that you shouldn't get to live and experience everything that you ever wanted to . there's no reason that you shouldn't get to be happy . there's no reason ... ' a pause , and with his face contorting further into a miserable expression , his head shakes . ' i'm scared of losing the sole person i was willing to devote myself to again . i'm scared of everything turning out to be for nothing but someone else's laugh . if everything were like that , then i'd rather just die and be over with it . but i can't just leave you , master . '

               Sometimes  he  could  be  so  annoying---!                   —  But  she  wouldn't  have  it  any  other  way.

       Only  once  he  offered  her  a  thumbs  up  in  acknowledgment  —  in  agreement  —  did  she  pause,  fists  still  twisting  his  collar.  A  disgruntled  ‘  hmph  ’  before  she  ultimately  let  him  go.   (   Hopefully  she  got  her  point  across  —  even  if  a  bit  violently.   )   ❝   Glad  we  have  an  understanding.   ❞