The sunlight was particularly bright that day; that was the reason Ryouji squinted when he stepped out of his house—it had nothing to do with Ryouichi, Ryouji's shut-in elder brother. Ryouichi, who hadn't left the house in years, who had never seen his brother dance, except on the computer monitor in his room. Ryouichi, who had no idea where his little brother had slept the last week—Ryouji hadn't been home during that time.
Their parents couldn't help—off in another city, they would have less information than Ryouichi about his younger brother's habits and friends. Anything that happened to his brother was ultimately Ryouichi's fault, as well; he was the reason they moved to Zawame; he had wanted to attend the college in the city, and his younger brother, with his adoring eyes, had begged to come along. Yet, Ryouichi had proved himself a pathetic shadow of a guardian, dropping out of college almost immediately, the anxiety of facing the world causing him to hole up in the house for the last few years.
Ryouji, wonderful child that he was, looked at his brother with the same adoring eyes as the day they moved out of the house. Eyes of unbreakable faith, the only eyes that didn't see Ryouichi as the failure he was. Ryouji was the sun in his older brother's unlit, empty house of a world, coming home every day with stories poised on his lips. When he formed a dance team, when they claimed their first stage, when Ryouji got in fights with other teams, when they lost their first stage—Ryouichi lived these moments through his brother's stories. He comforted, celebrated, and laughed along with Ryouji—when the Invess games began, Ryouichi was relieved, in a way—his brother wouldn't risk getting hurt anymore. Even when Ryouji dropped out of school and picked up a minimum-wage job to buy lockseeds, Ryouichi accepted his actions—as someone that not only dropped out, but could no longer leave the house, who was he to judge?
The games escalated, though, and Ryouichi watched on his monitor as his little brother became an armored rider and began fighting again. The bruises and scrapes started to cover his body like before, but nothing major, nothing serious. Ryouichi began to worry like he did before, the way he worried that one of the other teams would bring a knife to his brother's fistfights.
Ryouichi's worries culminated when Ryouji came home edgy one night, his usual monologues reduced to a vague story about the day—Raid Wild had lost the lockseed collection game, and Ryouji's belt had been damaged. He didn't know if it would work, and he'd have to take it to Sid for repairs, but he claimed he'd get revenge on the others—that Raid Wild would dominate the rankings in a matter of days.
Ryouji was hiding something—how his belt broke, or that something had happened that day that his older brother wouldn't approve of. Ryouichi didn't push it—he should have—but he knew Ryouji would tell him later, when he decided he wanted advice or when the situation resolved.
The next day, the computer monitor showed in excruciating detail Ryouji's expression as he was emotionally crushed by the betrayal of his friend. Ryouichi made Ryouji's favorite comfort foods that night, but his little brother didn't return. It wouldn't have been unusual for Ryouji to have spent the night at Raid Wild's hangout, but the days passed, and Ryouichi knew he needed to find his little brother.
And so Ryouichi had left the house for the first time in years, taking advantage of how similar he and Ryouji looked. Dressed in his brother's clothes, hair trimmed and styled to the best of his ability—he was Ryouji, now. Ryouji, who could leave the house, who could cope with the outside world. He forced himself to believe this wholeheartedly, for the moment he remembered he was Ryouichi, he'd be stranded in a crowd of people, far from the only place he felt safe.
Ryouji headed for the building Raid Wild hung out at. He got lost because he was absentminded, not because the city was almost foreign to him. When he arrived, he found that the doors were locked, and had to scramble in through the window. How many times had he forgotten or lost his keys, and later laughingly relayed this story to his brother, along with the trick of climbing the nearby chain-link fence before leaping to the window?
He fell awkwardly on a worn couch, one he had relocated for the sake of such impromptu entrances. Looking around, it was clear the room was abandoned; dust motes from the couch clouded the air, and dust coated every surface. Raid Wild had split, and if anyone still wore the uniform, they didn't bother coming to their usual hangout anymore.
The team leader stood, frowning, and brushed off his clothes. Without his teammates, he'd have to turn to his rivals for help—luckily, he was on chummy terms with two of them. He exited the Raid Wild base, squinting as he transitioned from a dark building to the glaring sun again. He paused as he shut the door, remembering the display of cruelty Hideyasu had put on for everyone to see. No, he corrected himself, he had one friend to talk to right now, not two. Making sure the entrance was locked, he started for the place the Gaim team called home.
It was normal for Ryouji to get lost—after all, he had never been to the Gaim base. Probably. No, definitely, he nodded to himself, he definitely had never gone there, or he would have told his older brother about it. He also had no idea where it was in the first place—only a vague idea of a location based on Gaim's stage choice; no one would cross town to dance, especially when most of the team members had to rely on public transportation to get around.
Ryouichi couldn't summon the nerves required to ask for directions, so he wandered around until he found a place Ryouji knew—Drupers. It was frequented by most of the teams on this side of town; as Gaim was one of them, it wouldn't be hard to run into some of its members and get to their hangout that way. At the least, the owner of the cafe might be able to point Ryouji in the right direction.
As he entered the store, its employees glanced at him out of habit—and watched him carefully when they recognized him. Ryouichi briefly wondered if something had happened on that last day; if Ryouji had caused trouble in the store, losing his temper and starting one of his fights amidst the customers and tables. Kiyojiro didn't tell him to leave, however, approaching cautiously and extending a greeting. Ryouichi noticed he stayed near the display in the center of the room—as if to put it between him and Ryouji at a moment's notice for protection.
"It's been a while since you were last here, Hase—you feeling better?"
Hase nodded uneasily. It would be the first time in years that Ryouichi had spoken to someone other than his brother. Ryouji, on the other hand—Ryouji had simply caused some mischief, it seemed, and had dropped off the map for just a week.
"Yeah," Ryouji said casually, "Sorry about... before." he added, prompted by the cautious looks the Drupers' duo was still giving him.
He didn't have a clue what had happened in the cafe, but apologizing for it had been the right move; Iyo returned to leafing absently through a magazine, and Kiyojiro visibly relaxed.
"Ah, well… You didn't exactly seem like yourself last week." Drupers' owner crossed the space between him and Ryouji, treating the latter as someone to converse with instead of a wild animal. In a softer voice, he added, "You know, if you want to talk about it—" he trailed off, holding Ryouji's gaze. For a second, Ryouichi wondered if he had been exposed.
"To be honest… I don't really remember what happened that day." Kiyojiro mulled his confession over.
"I could see that… To put it bluntly, you looked like you were pretty hopped up on something."
Before either Ryouji or Kiyojiro could say more, the jingle of a bell behind Ryouji signaled someone entering—someone who promptly interrupted the conversation.
"Hase? Hase, is that you?!" Excited, the person wasted no time in crossing to Ryouji, grabbing his shoulders, and thoroughly examining his appearance. Hase was too stunned to speak immediately; Ryouichi quickly took in the other boy's hair and clothes—the blue and checkerboard pattern of Gaim, roughly the same age as Ryouji—this was Kouta.
Ryouji had a history with Kouta, starting before the Invess game, when stages would often be physically fought for. They were the brawlers for their respective teams, butting heads—sometimes literally—and frequently exchanging blows. Combat skill had established a rather rigid pecking order for most of the teams; Raid Wild and Gaim, however, were fairly even in this aspect. They fought frequently with each other for stages, each losing as many fights as they won. Eventually, the two teams' fighters formed a strange-but-friendly bond that remained when the Invess game began.
Ryouji tried to pick apart his friend's expression—worry, joy, relief, surprise—it was hard to pin it down to a word or two. Hase muttered a vague response, unsure of what to say. Luckily, Kouta had no shortage of words, unknowingly filling in the gaps in the other boy's knowledge.
"You disappeared for like, a week—what happened?" noticing that Hase was still startled speechless, he then added in a quieter, more serious tone, "Hey, are you feeling alright? I mean, you ate that fruit and all..." Fruit? If it was worth mentioning, it couldn't be the typical fruit you could buy in a store—the fruit from the forest, maybe? The one that turned into lockseeds?
"Ah, that—" Hase reached for something to say; Ryouichi was panicking—Kouta might not know Ryouji had a brother, but he would be able to tell that the person in front of him wasn't the person he knew.
"He doesn't remember anything." Kiyojiro intervened before Ryouichi could break down.
"Y-Yeah." Ryouji nodded, "I was hoping you could help me figure out what happened."
"Mmn, that's pretty tough." Kouta pursed his lips, trying to recall week-old memories, "I dunno if I can help much, but I'll try."
The two boys got a table and ordered parfaits. As Ryouji ate, Kouta went over the events of a week ago; he and Kaito had been fighting the white rider when Ryouji showed up, ripped one of the forest fruits off a vine that had crossed through a crack—
"What's a crack?" Ryouji interrupted around a mouthful of kiwi.
"Ah, right, you wouldn't know what they're called—they're the giant sky-zippers that connect to the forest—Helheim." Ryouji nodded, satisfied, and Kouta continued.
Ryouji had eaten the fruit, at which point the white rider had yelled for him to spit it out—he didn't, and his body—Kouta frowned, trying to think out to word this part tactfully.
"The plant… it made your body change. Green and sorta vine-y. After that, um…"
"Kouta. It's me. Don't start pulling punches on me now." Kouta chuckled nervously, but relaxed a bit.
"You turned into an Invess. At least for a bit, then you turned into something in-between. I chased you here—you were kinda nuts—you attacked Rat, sent him to the hospital."
"Is he alright?"
"Yeah, nothing serious—but you left after that, and I lost track of you. I haven't seen you since." Kouta spooned out a strawberry from his parfait and chewed it thoughtfully. Once he swallowed it, he added, "One of the other riders probably saw you, but I haven't heard about it. Honestly, I was worried the white rider got you—he tried to kill me once."
"What did I look like?"
"Green." Kouta started, "sorta mossy and plantlike in spots—" he gestured to his jawline and arms, "—with these claws on one hand," and moved his left hand to indicate the claw length of the right. "That's when you were half-Invess. When you were full-Invess—you looked like one of those old lion statues." he paused, seeming to realize something for the first time, "The claws… They were still only on your right hand."
Ryouji nodded to show he understood Kouta's haphazard gestures and confused descriptions—he ingrained the bit about the claws deeply into his memory—he now had an identifying feature to ask about, which would be useful if someone saw him as an Invess without knowing who it was. He finished his parfait and thanked Kouta before getting directions to Charmant and leaving—his chats with the rider and Kiyojiro had given him an idea.
With Kouta's directions, Ryouji had no problems navigating to the pastry shop. Hideyasu was working the counter, dressed like a French chef and looking miserable—at least, until the door opened, and he caught sight of Ryouji. Written across his glasses-wearing face were two conflicting emotions—elation and alarm. Ryouji was his closest friend, who no one had heard from in days, but was also a hothead that Hideyasu had stabbed in the back. Hideyasu had always been bad in a fight, so if Ryouji decided to leap over the counter and pummel him, he wouldn't be able to save himself, and he knew it. He stiffened up like a rodent facing a predator, and when he spoke, it was in as neutral a tone as he could manage.
"Hase, what are you doing here?" Ryouji smiled sheepishly.
"I was hoping you could help me out." For a moment, the mask Hideyasu maintained to hide his emotions shattered, his disbelief and confusion showing clearly.
"Me. You want me to help you."
"We're friends, aren't we?"
In only a few moments, Ryouichi understood why his brother had been so attached to Hideyasu—Hideyasu and Ryouichi were strikingly similar. Clever but cowardly, they could think through all of a situation's outcomes, finding the most likely one, and the best actions to take in response. Ryouichi watched, amused, as Hideyasu's trains of thought screeched to a halt at the word "friends", backed up, rearranged the tracks, and began chugging in another direction as their owner pieced together the scenario Ryouichi was setting up.
"What's the problem?" Hideyasu began cautiously. He wasn't sold on the apparent situation, and was still ready to bolt if needed.
"I was hoping you could help me recover my memory." Hideyasu's mask was back now, hiding most of the panic this request brought—Ryouji's amnesia was a stroke of luck—who knew what he'd do if he remembered Hideyasu's betrayal. Ryouji ambled up to the glass display counter and leaned on it casually—he was just chatting with his friend, after all. "I don't remember anything in the past week—Kouta said he saw me eat one of Helheim's fruits."
Hideyasu's jaw dropped open, "you what?!" Ryouji opened his mouth to respond, but a voice from the kitchen cut him off.
"Boy—" the word was a singsong, barely veiled threat, "—stop flirting with the customers and come back to the kitchen." Hideyasu cringed, aware he was going to be punished in some way.
"I'll be back in a bit," he told Ryouji, "wait at a table and we can talk as soon as I'm on break." Hideyasu disappeared through a door behind the counter, and Ryouji searched for a seat. Able to examine the shop now, he began to feel out of place in his leather jacket, surrounded by frills—aside from a customer accompanied by his girlfriend, Ryouji was the only male in the shop that didn't work there.
Hideyasu ducked out of the kitchen a few minutes later with a drink in hand.
"I'll be back in a bit" he informed Ryouji softly as he set the glass down on the table. Only delivering the drink to make Ryouji look less out of place, he vanished back into the kitchen. Ryouji sipped the drink and watched people walking along the sidewalks. When Hideyasu emerged again, he brought two plates with him, setting them down on the table and taking a seat opposite Ryouji.
"I know you like fruity things more than sugary things, so I brought you a tart. If you have any complaints to give to the chef—" he pointed to himself, "—you're looking at him." Ryouji didn't hide his surprise.
"You made this?" It was fantastic-looking, the fruit carefully arranged. Ryouji had only seen desserts look this good in magazines and TV shows. Hideyasu shrugged off the praise—producing artful pastries was apparently as routine to him as getting dressed in the morning or using the bathroom.
"Honestly, I'm sick of eating this stuff. Too many sweets a day."
"Just because you work here doesn't mean you need to eat here."
"No, but Oren makes me. Eating my own cooking is supposed to improve my skills—make my tastes more refined or something." he picked up his fork and took a bite of the white, strawberry-topped cake in front of him, "but all it's done so far is wreck my blood sugar levels," he added dryly. Ryouji tried to suppress a chuckle as he separated a bite from his tart. It wound up tasting as good as it looked.
"So, a week ago—" Ryouji broke the silence. Hideyasu stiffened, fork in his mouth. "—I'm trying to find out what I did."
"After eating the fruit?" Hideyasu let the fork linger between his lips, speaking around it, then removing it when he was done to get another bite of cake.
"Yeah. Kouta said I attacked one of Gaim's members at Drupers, then ran off."
"Why the hell would you eat the fruit?" Hideyasu grumbled, still hung up on that part of Ryouji's story. Ryouichi remembered the way his brother's eyes darted around when they spoke a week ago, the way he seemed to be haunted by something Ryouichi couldn't see.
"It just—it seemed like a good idea, somehow, since my belt was broke." Hideyasu made a noise that indicated he didn't think the second part of that statement was in any way related to the first part, but didn't press the topic further; no sane, logical reason existed to eat fruit from an alien forest.
"So what happened? After you ate it." Ryouji began to tell Hideyasu what Kouta had told him—when he mentioned briefly becoming an Invess, a trace of recollection flickered across Hideyasu's face.
"Do you remember something?" Hideyasu wouldn't meet Ryouji's gaze, sucking on the tip of his fork.
"No, it's… it's probably nothing." Ryouji watched him quietly—when he stayed silent, Hideyasu would often elaborate. "I fought an Invess that day, is all. One that wasn't a grunt." Ryouji waited, hoping Hideyasu would say more. He didn't; as long as the Invess was unrelated to Ryouji, he didn't need to talk about it.
"Did it happen to have—" Ryouji replicated the gesture Kouta used earlier to indicate the Invess's abnormal right hand. Hideyasu's eyes widened sharply; the level of recognition was so sudden that it caught Ryouji off-guard, stalling him mid-sentence. Hideyasu shook his head "no" slightly.
"That can't be right." he muttered, almost to himself, dropping his eyes from Ryouji's gaze and staring at his plate in disbelief. He shook his head again, more definitively this time, "That's not possible."
"Why?" Hideyasu looked his friend in the eyes again, and suddenly Ryouji saw him not as the brilliant strategist he had known, but a terrified child.
"I killed that Invess."
It was a plea for confirmation, as if Hase would become transparent and walk through the wall any second now. Confronted with this unexpectedly vulnerable Hideyasu, it took Hase a moment to speak.
"Yeah," his mouth was dry, but he forced it to open, forced his lips to move, to form words, "I really couldn't have been that Invess." He chuckled, a weak, hollow sound, "Besides, those things aren't all that unique, you know?" His excuse was too flimsy—the claws were a remarkable enough trait to be used as identification.
"Y-Yeah." Hideyasu smiled, but in his eyes Hase could see what his brief hesitation had cost him.
He had solidified Hideyasu's fears; even with a living Ryouji in front of him, he'd have nightmares tonight of killing his friend. Fighting the clawed Invess only to have it turn into a terrified Ryouji as he landed the final blow; standing triumphant over an enemy another night, only to glance down and see his friend, beaten to death—or, when his mind was particularly creative—betraying Ryouji, then, when the other boy was most vulnerable, striking him from behind, with blood from the impact spattering across Hideyasu's glasses. The dreams would haunt him, night after night; time would help ease their frequency, but the feeling that Ryouji was dead and that the one in front of him was a fake, that the Ryouji in front of him could vanish at any moment—that would never fully leave him, and nothing Hase did would be able to change this.
Hase closed his eyes; he had the pieces of the truth that he needed, and as much as he didn't want to, he forced them together. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly—his brother was dead. Why he was where he was that day, why he ate the fruit—these were questions he would never have answers to. He opened his eyes, but the world felt fake, a hollow shell. Of course it did—the sibling he cared for so much was no longer in it. Still, this empty-feeling world would keep turning, and needed to choose what he would do from now on.
He glanced over at Hideyasu's concerned expression, and his decision was made. He'd put one foot in front of the other, like he always did when things got tough—after all, Ryouji couldn't mourn his older brother forever.