Choose...
Aoi looks at her hands. She looks at her invisible choices, at number one and number two, and bemoans her situation. Her back is against the door to her room, an old-time phone dangling off its cord. An alarm clock ticks backwards, time winding counterclockwise as she shakes.
Her brother or Playmaker?
Her person of greatest obsession or the boy of her greatest affections?
"Choose," she tells herself.
In one hand, she holds Playmaker's greatest secret. It weighs down upon her limb, bringing it crashing through the floor. In the other is her brother's attention, the gaze of his eyes upon her, his mere attention that she craves.
She must sacrifice one to obtain the other.
She can't have both, she knows that.
"Choose."
Yusaku looks at her, green eyes disinterested in the world around him. She is standing away from him, books upon books in her arms until there is no end to them because she must be studious, she must get good grades and obtain her brother's praise.
She walks towards him, gaze down, because he is just another person, another competitor in a long line of class rankings. He is nothing of importance, a figure of ones and zeros manifested in the real world.
She trips, her infinite amount of books spilling from her arms. Yusaku pauses, his distant gaze fixated upon her, and he, to her surprise, offers her a hand.
"Are you alright?"
Aoi frowns at the insincere smile on his face.
"Choose."
Blue Angel hops from roof to roof, her high-heeled shoes crashing down upon sun-tanned tiles. Her Duel Disk glimmers in the sunshine and she laughs, skipping to and fro as she runs down the line of houses that pile up along the street.
Across from her, choosing his board over his feet, hovers a boy in a green and black suit striped with gold. He flies with certainty, a kind of cautious confidence that has him soaring over the rooftops she strides across. His Decode Talker and Firewall Dragon have taken the field - both entities that declare themselves as his ace monsters. Holy Trickster Angel is at her side, the humanoid monster tailing behind her with exasperated sighs that only her real world self would dare utter.
Cameras prod all around her, tiny white drones hovering with the starving attention of hungry little puppies. They swarm her and Playmaker, lapping up their every movement with scrutinous gazes. She can already imagine the announcers on the TV screens shouting and cheering, can see the people beneath her waving and screaming. She can see the Blue Angel and Playmaker memorophilia enclosing around their throats, around their wrists and fingers and hands and necks and ears until, ultimately, it is a giant noose of money.
"Let's go, go, go!" she shouts in utter glee, a light contrast to the emotions bundled upon her chest. Playmaker offers her an irritated look that speaks wonders of his feelings towards her performance. She waves her hand to a camera and it hovers closer to her (a bit too close to her chest) and she bats it away with a carefree swipe. It fizzles in shame and moves off with little clicks.
Playmaker grabs a card from his deck. It sparks with the light of the virtual sun, catching on sunlight, and is placed onto his board with little constraint.
"Choose."
Her brother stands in a door, hands behind his back. His gaze is held prisoner by the scenery outside their mansion, by the lingering clouds that graze across the blue grass and the tiny little leaves that fly off across its depths. She stands with her bag slung across her back and her gaze to his backside. He is regal, a man of great worth and great value in the world of SOL Technology. It's no wonder why she desperately wants his icy blue eyes to warm upon seeing her, why she wants to see him smile at her like she's the sun in the sky. He's a man of great accomplishments, of newspaper worth, and yet she's little more than a spot in the corner of his eyes.
He praises Playmaker, praises the boy on the hoverboard who saved the VRAINS with his superior skills against the Knights of Hanoi. He also watches Blue Angel's - her - duels with the fever of an obsessed man, drawn in by the Charisma Duelist's deck and by her supreme savage strength. On occasion, if she's lucky and in earshot, she'll hear him sing the highest of regards for her alternate self. She hugs such words with generous affection, grateful that, for once, her brother appreciates her in some gratifying way.
Of course, that all changes when her brother gains the highest animosity for the man who stole his AI program. He becomes spiteful, vengeful, spitting like a cobra in order to make a promise to enact revenge against the man who played him for a fool.
"Choose."
Playmaker. Her brother. Yusaku Fujiki. Akira Zaizen.
"Choose."
Playmaker settles a duel with an agent of SOL. The man sulks and logs off while Playmaker flicks his scathing gaze across the battlefield. A screen appears in front of him with none other than her brother to shout and scream at the man in the black and green wetsuit.
"Choose."
Her brother sends a glass cup shattering to the ground, his calm composure lost in the heated moments of his greatest frustration. Silver shards rain down to the ground, melting into little teardrops that stain her cheeks red as she picks up the pieces. Her brother, as always, wants nothing to do with her and stomps off into his room, slamming the door behind him.
"Choose."
She challenges Playmaker to a battle, certain that, if she could be the one to finally defeat him, she would earn only the highest praise from her brother. Then and only then would she reveal her true identity to him, eager to obtain his affectionate words in person.
"Choose."
She's brutally defeated, sinking into the ground as Playmaker ascends to the sky. She curses and screams, angry that such an interloper, such a hero, can ruin her reputation in one straight hit.
"Choose."
Blue Angel becomes wrapped up in the very fabrication of revenge. She will stop at nothing to defeat Playmaker, to win her brother's love, to become someone her brother can look upon and be proud of for once in his life.
"Choose."
Akira Zaizen, as workaholic as he ever is, strains himself to the maximum capability. He can see nothing else but the shackles on Playmaker's wrists, the chains that will bind his ankles to silver bars as Akira drags the man kicking and screaming into the depths of jail.
"Choose."
She tries a different approach; make friends with him. If she can't beat him then she'll weasel out his secret. If she can't defeat him, she'll find out who he actually is in the true world. So, she gets cutesy, gets involved, does anything she can to garner his trust. He's an anomaly, someone so disinterested in Dueling that it almost baffles her how he can exist in a space meant for nothing else but Dueling.
"Choose."
Eventually, he cracks. He lets her into his little circle, tolerating her in his presence. His little program, the little creature that her brother so desperately wants, distrusts her with malicious intent. It makes lewd comments regarding her VR form, poking fun at her real world self (while hurting her where it hurts) and overall making its intentions very, very clear. The thing is oddly protective of Playmaker, a being of digital parts and yet somehow the man's virtual caretaker.
"Choose."
Shockingly, she finds herself enjoying Playmaker's presence. He's a distant person, one disinterested by Dueling, but his passion for fighting against the Knights of Hanoi speaks well of his determination to succeed. She can admit she's charmed by that, by the way he is able to determine the critical points of when to attack and when to defend, when to launch forward and when to flee. He's intelligent, well-bred in the field of combat, and it's almost scary how much Blue Angel can relate to that.
"Choose."
There is a particularly nasty fight in which a Knight of Hanoi corners Playmaker, his monsters towering over the man with sharpened teeth and graceful claws. The man finds himself in a bind, down to the last card, and his hands shake on camera when he draws it. However, he smiles and activates it.
A trap.
Playmaker's enemy screams as his monsters are vanquished from the field but not before he gets the last word. One of his creatures, a worm of green light, dives forward moments before it disappears to bite into his arm. It's Playmaker's time to scream as he is knocked off his board and sent hurtling into the depths of a Data Storm.
By the time the storm clears, Playmaker is gone.
"Choose."
Yusaku Fujiki vanishes from class. The whole ordeal in itself is not strange - people ditch class all the time - but the fact that it's Yusaku Fujiki, of all people, draws in the rumors that make it to Aoi's ears. He was a boy of great attendance, always available whenever school was and very, very rarely a person to miss school even on the worst flu imaginable.
Speculation is abound when Yusaku shows up the next day with his arm in a cast. Such an item has many gossiping about the tragedies the boy has encountered, of the dog that must've chased him down until it could only gnaw on his hand or of the way such a careful boy must've fallen from great heights to land such a thick cast of white bandages.
Aoi, personally, doesn't care what the reason is. Her mind is more on Playmaker, on how his eyes had widened as his board had tipped to the side, on how his AI program had screamed and screamed for him to "get back on, just get back on!" and how he'd fallen with his face twisted, for the first time since she'd teamed up with him, in terror.
"Choose."
As their missions in the VRAINS get more and more dangerous, Aoi notices she's starting to accumulate a series of injuries along her body. Bruises and scratches etch themselves into her flesh, battering her skin until it becomes harder and harder to hide any traces of injury. She's had to wrap scarves around her neck, wear gloves on her hands and pull up her leggings any time they dipped below her skirt to obscure all the battle scars she's obtained.
Playmaker, her partner, and Go, the other member of their team (aside from, later, Revolver and the guy with a seeming fetish for hot dogs), are in no better shape than she is herself. She's seen them in worse conditions than herself, breath stolen, blood painted on their arms and legs, and she wonders how everything had gone from fun and games, from her wanting to exploit him for her brother's sake, to her wanting to fight alongside him in his desperation to uncover the Cyberverse.
The news media will never shut up about it. Go Onizuka, the only one of their cast whose VR form is the same as his real world one, is constantly prodded by news reporters for tidbits about their latest exploits. Aoi, sometimes, wishes she can be right next to him, to support him and reassure him with her presence and to not hide away from the world in her stupid little self.
The self even her brother can't love.
"Choose."
More and more, Yusaku abandons school. Their classmates have long since stopped with the theories, clueless and unable to pry anything out of him the moment he lands in their presence. Aoi, though reasonably worried for him, finds herself distracted by the pulling up of her leggings or the extra layer of scarf that burns her in the midst of summer-day heat. It's getting to the point where she's begun to limp, wincing at every wrong twist of her foot. It's also gotten to the point where Akira Zaizen, whose gaze was always (always) on his work, flits to her as if her misplaced footsteps have caused him too large a nuisance.
His gaze, always cold and uninviting, glares down upon her like a snake. His eyes flash at the wounds along her skin, not quite out of concern but out of a ruthless anger that vibrates down to his hand and sends his pencil snapping in-between his fingers.
He interrogates her. Akira Zaizen interrogates his sister with curled lips, cupping her cheeks with rough hands and jerking her head up to meet his gaze. Aoi's grateful for the attention, honestly, it's the first time that she's ever seen him so concerned for her and not Blue Angel but all she can feel is the quivering of her body, the scared adrenaline that pumps through her skin and the sudden need to escape from this furious shadow of her brother.
When all is done she slumps to the floor as her brother stalks away, furious and upset and spitting with disgust. She's unsure how she's managed to evade his prodding for so long but she's proud of herself for keeping her secret from him. In the past, he might have been happy to relate her adventures in the VRAINS to him. Now, however, she shied away from it, frightened by what the SOL head of security would do when he realized she'd befriended his company's worst enemy.
"Choose."
Yusaku comes to school one day, a noticeable bruise on his cheek. The speculation regarding him and his mysterious injuries has long since closed, however, and her peers merely passed along worrying looks to their classroom outcast. Aoi herself began to wonder what was the cause of all his injuries. She's studied him a little in class (he was adjacent to her after all, not too far, merely a seat to her left), and he seemed too intent on the notes on the board to bother with her suspicious gaze.
However, there's a brief moment of time, a tiny sliver in which his gaze flits to her. Her eyes widen as she's caught red-handed but she can't look away. There's something about him that screams familiar, something that makes her want to rush up to him and jump and smile at him just like Blue Angel would if she was in the VR world.
Too late, she realizes his gaze has drifted down from hers to her legs. She stares at him, dumbfounded, and follows his gaze.
The bruise on her leg is showing, the one that glistens a bright purple and smattered with red. Aoi flushes, pulling up her legging so as to hide the offending injury.
Yusaku frowns at her, his eyes narrowed.
She doesn't like that look. She really, really does not like that look.
"Choose."
Yusaku confronts her at the end of school, pulling her aside as the rest of his classmates drift down the hallway. She hears a certain chatter that insinuates the idea that Yusaku would ask her on a date, that their outcast classmate would be asking, of course, the only other outcast in the class, for her hand. Such wild rumors made her give an exasperated sigh. She knew why Yusaku wanted to talk and she knew it had more to do with the purple on her legs than the bouquet of roses her peers thought they saw in Yusaku's hands.
The boy is cool, cautious, nearly calculating. There are gears whirling in his head, green eyes alert and yet, somehow interested in the way she returns his gaze with defiance, ready to defend herself and her injuries with a retort that echoes of his own.
Then, he says four words that shatter her sense of safety.
"Choose."
He's done it. She doesn't know how and she doesn't know when but, somehow, he's figured it out.
He know she's the Blue Angel.
Yusaku pulls together an analysis from his head, listing out facts that describe how he's identified her, and gathers too much evidence for her to find a reasonable loophole. Trapped and suffocated by the sudden appearance of a noose around her throat, she backs away, legs slamming into the chair behind her.
She falls before she can stop herself, unbalanced to the point of tipping over. However, Yusaku is faster, a hand enclosing upon her wrist and pulling her up and into his arms. She blushes furiously, knowing full well that such an action was unnecessary.
Yusaku leans down, breath rushing past her ear. She watches him with shock, uncertain as to what he was trying to pull.
His next words make everything come together.
"Choose."
She's numb, too numb that it almost comes to no shock to her that her brother is home early. He is present in the living room, a book laid before him. His work clothes, for once, are off and replaced by a reasonable outfit of a simple shirt and jeans. He looks up at her, closes his book, and then strides over to her with a formal spring in his step.
There's a smile on his face, a light-hearted kind that suddenly vanquishes any feeling of shock she might have with the swelling of her heart. His gaze was so different from the cold-hearted brother she was constantly trying to impress. He seemed less distant now, less disapproving, like the brother she'd worked so desperately to find.
She inquires as to his earliness. He responds in a tact manner about how the company is forcing him - the workaholic - to stay at home - to spend time with her. He admits it's been a long, long time since any such change has occurred and, as such, he wants to spend all his time with her.
Aoi's too giddy to even suspect that he is lying. It's what she's always wanted, it's what she's always craved. Her brother, her cold and distant brother, is finally paying attention to her. She accepts his explanation without any suspicion and, without missing a beat, he draws up a list of suggestions of what to try.
She couldn't be more happy.
"Choose."
Her next meeting with Playmaker is awkward. It's hard for her to act cutesy and cheery when he knows who she is. When she knows who he is.
Go, the only one of them whose real world self and VR self were the same, notes the seeming animosity between them with worry and concern. He inquires as to the cause and then, Playmaker (Yusaku), gives him a thin smile.
He checks for cameras, checks for the little drones that constantly follow their little troupe and ,after Ignis reports that there is nothing around them, Yusaku speaks. He tells Go his real name, reveals his identity, and then slumps his shoulders as if it is some relief to him to tell that information to his partner in person.
The wrestler admits to not knowing his real-life form, unaware of such a Yusaku Fujiki in his own school district, but he promises to meet up with the boy under some guise when the time allows it. Aoi watches their exchange with fascination, almost amazed that Go would accept Playmaker's true identity so easily.
Then, he turnes to her, his silence speaking the question that made her heart thrum in her chest. The pro-wrestler Charisma Duelist watches her with a kind smile, curious but accepting of any choice she makes. Playmaker steps towards her, his attitude much the same, but his curiosity is less present now that he knows her true identity. In a way, she's irritated at the knowing smile he beholds, at the way his shoulders suddenly relax now that he knows she's Aoi Zaizen. Does Yusaku Fujiki look down upon her, now that he realizes just who she truly is? Does he see her as less cutesy, less cheery, now that he knows Blue Angel's just a mask? Is his soft smile mocking her or encouraging her? She can't tell; he's too hard to read.
So, she gives in. She gives in to Go's kindhearted stare and reveals her identity. He seems surprised to know she is the sister to their enemy's chief of security, his lips frowning. She reassures him of his doubts, already pinpointing the cause for his concern. He takes it with confidence but she can't help but feel he still won't trust her completely.
She'll never betray them though.
Never.
"Choose one."
Her brother continues to pay more and more attention to her, treating her to things like her favorite ice cream or taking her to the zoo, at which she acts like the little child she is and gapes and giggles and points with all the enthusiasm of someone who has never had her brother come to the zoo with her before.
Akira Zaizen spends more and more time off work to attend to her and she thinks that, for once, she's actually doing something right with her life. She doesn't know what and she doesn't know how but she wants to hold these moments for eternity in her arms and never let go. This happiness blooming in her chest is something that is way too rare for her to forget.
She'll never ever forget these moments with her brother, she'll forever cherish them with happiness for as long as she lives.
Forever.
"Choose one."
Sometimes there are days where she meets with Playmaker and there are no expectations of Duels or Knights or SOL officers coming to take Ignis hostage. Those days are almost a miracle, ones that Blue Angel does not think of lightly. They duel each other for fun, learning each other's decks in action until it is almost up to chance and chance alone for them to beat one another.
When not caught up in saving the Cyberverse, they've added another course to their daily destinations. Cafe Nagi, a hotdog stand in the center of Den City, is their common meeting place. Yusaku and Aoi are frequent visitors to the stall, with Yusaku living there and Aoi being within general walking distance. Go, on the other hand, meets up only when the media pressure has let him loose, enjoying trips here and there to pick up a hotdog and a drink.
It's almost reassuring when Revolver switches sides. Having been betrayed by Specter beforehand, he sought no other option than to team up with Yusaku in order to reclaim the leadership he'd lost. However, after the Knights of Hanoi had effectively been recaptured Revolver, much to their surprise, disbanded the organization and chose to tag alongside them in their war for Cyverse.
Blue Angel, at first, doesn't appreciate his company. He's callous and cold, too critical and too calculating - much, much like Yusaku. However, he proves worthy in her eyes when he single-handedly duels against an army of SOL duelists who swarm upon them like sharks. She admits her respect for him them and takes a strong liking to him, eager to see how their partnership will occur throughout the rest of their days in VRAINS.
Playmaker, however, has something akin to a scathing look on his face whenever she interacts with Revolver, a kind of misplaced frustration that has her wondering what his mind holds. He's not pleased, that much she understands, but for what reason is something beyond her.
"Choose one or the other."
She reveals herself to her brother as the Blue Angel and he looks like he hasn't expected anything less. The news doesn't affect him in any way and he merely gives her a sort of glance that suggests "yes, so what?".
It'd be crushing to her if she hadn't realized he must've found out somewhere along the line. He was smart and, while he spent more time with her, he'd have to realize that the times she'd disappear into her room and the times that Blue Angel appeared were almost no coincidence.
His words are reassuring to her, comforting and promising that he won't think of her any different. Instead, he becomes interested in what she can do. Can she get Playmaker to reveal his true identity (been there, done that), can she convince himself to turn himself in (unlikely, he'd sooner disappear than be captured), or can she convince him to give up the AI kept hostage inside his Duel Disk (hmm, possible)?
She feels uncertain under Akira's sudden inquiries, uneasy and hesitant. Should she give in to his requests? Should she betray Playmaker, betray Yusaku? Aoi doesn't even know if she has the capability to do such a thing.
"Choose him."
Playmaker - Yusaku - grows more and more distant from her. He's become isolated, giving her the cold shoulder more often than not and the few times he deems okay to speak to her his voice is icy. He makes it clear that he doesn't want to associate with her or with anyone for that manner. She's seen the way he's hunched in upon himself, frustrated and agonized and lashing out at anyone who frustrated him in any way, shape or form.
Revolver takes notice of it with scathing remarks that call Playmaker out on his behavior. The boy retorts, unleashing a whirl of arguments that leave them all huffing and puffing. They bicker and shout and scream and suddenly there is a huge rift between them all. They stand away from each other in a bitter circle, glaring and accusing and she's shivering because they're falling apart and there's nothing she can do to stop it.
Go logs off first, declaring his job done. Revolver follows after him, evidently disgusted. Kusanagi, whose presence in the world shapeshifts from a hacked drone to himself in person, disables the flying camera he has hijacked with a careful mentioned worry in regards to Yusaku. The boy with the pink and blue hair spits something back at him, his cool calm lost with the anger that burns underneath him.
He glares at her, shoulders up in defiance and eyes narrowed with a crystal cold that scares Aoi. He doesn't seem normal, he doesn't seem like himself. She knew that, days earlier, he'd been chasing a clue to his past, something so vital that he'd up and left in the middle of the night. She hadn't known what he'd found but, whatever it was had turned him against them, against himself.
Playmaker challenges her to say something, anything, that will rile him up. He's so desperate to start something, itching with frustration and rage, and it takes all her confidence to withstand his spiteful gaze. He makes no move against her, doesn't raise his hand or say anything. Instead, he slaps his Duel Disk and she watches as he vanishes from the VRAINS.
She's alone. Alone and shivering and resentful as one little incident steals away her happiness bit by bit.
"Choose your brother."
After their little spat, they'd all gone their separate ways. Aoi had stopped meeting up with them both in the VRAINS and in real life, unable to withstand the baggage that would undoubtedly build upon her. Yusaku attended class, as usual, and it was almost unbearable to sit beside him. He did everything in his power to pretend she didn't exist, his gaze pointedly directed to the board or everywhere else but the space in which he existed. It hurt. It hurt much more than she had realized. She'd hated being ignored, being an outcast. She'd gone through that once before, before Blue Angel with her brother, and now she was repeating that part of her life yet again.
Her brother, however, reassures her whenever she can't handle it anymore. The rift between her and her friends becomes too much to bare and suddenly she is lost and alone with only her brother and Blue Angel's fans to guide her. Their separation with Playmaker had affected the entirety of their fan bases, splitting them between her and Go, between Revolver and Playmaker and the rest of their crew. She's warned her fans against it, wanting to play nice and at least pretend that things were still the same, but the animosity that had been borne in her heart had even influenced them. Family member turned against family member, fan against fan, until it all broke out in violent riots that echoed of their own internal anger.
It was all too much.
Akira Zaizen, as if true to his change of heart, did everything he could to reassure her. She took comfort in that fact, glad that, for once, she had his support in something that tore her apart from the inside out.
Even so, that did not stop his sudden insistence for her to enact revenge. Akira would always persist in his comfortings for her to enact revenge. It was just little snippets of conversation, little bits of words of sentences that wormed their way in, but her brother was turning her against Playmaker. He encouraged her to fight back against the man, to defy him for the misery he had created insider her and her mind spun with possibilities. She listened to him, eager, and was lulled into his suggestions like they were the call of a siren.
She'd do it. Surely, she would.
She'd betray Playmaker.
"Choose Akira."
Playmaker had revealed no intent to apologize to her in particular. He'd apologized to everyone else but her, his gaze avoiding hers as though he specifically refused to speak to her. It was painful to see him act in such a way towards her but it made her guilt all the less evident. If he wanted to act like a child then fine. Be that way.
"Choose Playmaker."
Eventually, Yusaku does damage repair and apologizes to her. It's curt and nearly insincere, a far cry from the apologies he's given the rest of their cast. His sudden animosity does nothing to flatten the misery she feels, like a sudden rejection from a lover gone very, very wrong. She's hurt more than she realizes, stung by the sudden backpedaling of their relationship and the resentment that swarms off of him for reasons she doesn't understand.
Once, they might have been close. Aoi replays the memories of him in her mind, of all the times they'd met up early at Kusanagi's hot dog stand and enjoyed a frequent chat that had nothing to do with Duels or Knights or her brother back before he'd made an effort to be her brother. It'd been lovely. She'd looked forward to the steaming sausages placed in-between white buns and the pleasant sunshine that grinned down upon them. It'd been different and unique and all the more fun once Go, Revolver and the rest of their cast made an attempt to join.
Now, however, their meetings are icy, chattering teeth with shivering bodies and goosebumps all along their flesh. She's constantly cold in Yusaku's presence, forever stuck in a blizzard that rampages endlessly past her. There is no small talk, no deck strategies or sipping casually of drinks. Instead, there is just glaring eyes, cold-shouldered words and drinks crushed slightly in-between constricting hands.
It was if everything was going into reverse. Her brother was the one who cared not Playmaker. It was Akira who comforted her, who kept her steady in a river of ice water and not the man who'd saved her from Cracking Dragon's fire all that time ago. And, it hurt. She was repeating the horror with a different person, cursed, forever, to only have one or the other.
"Choose your brother or choose him."
She makes her choice. She has two options: She can hide Playmaker's secret from her brother or she can reveal it to him in return for his jail sentence.
It's not hard, truly, to pick a decision. The guilt isn't weighing down upon her and she has no regrets to counter her burning anger.
Or, at least, that's what she keeps telling herself.
Playmaker's secret weighs in her hand, dropping through the floor, splitting planks, moving farther and farther away from her eyes. Her brother's gaze in her other hand flickers from cold to warm, from disapproving to proud, and Aoi tucks her hands against her chest until she folds into herself.
Akira. Her brother.
The pendulum swings.
Yusaku. Her friend.
It stops over her beating heart.
She tells her brother in the morning.
"I choose my brother."
Akira Zaizen waits no time to contact the police and have Yusaku arrested. Aoi is there when they come into class, hauling him away. Her brother picks her up seconds later, back to his prim and proper self but in a flurry of excitement. He seems too wrapped up in the Playmaker to take notice of her horror, of the sudden realization of the repercussions her decision has created. Her stomach swells with fright that bubbles inside her until she is combusting from the inside out.
Yusaku, however, refuses to meet her gaze. He is taken quietly, his Duel Disk extracted and Ignis forcibly removed from its depths by a special program SOL had installed. Handcuffs are put on his wrists while her brother blabbers on about Yusaku's acts of terrorism' and how 'SOL Technology would do its best to reform him'. Akira walks off with him, forgetting his sister's presence to return to a regal and elegant posture. Her brother's sheer words make her quail as, suddenly, it all fits together.
Aoi has been used.
"I chose my brother."
She's left alone in the seclusion of her home, her Duel Disk in front of her. It gleams with memories that sting at her skin, that pierce at her until all she can do is curl up and cry.
The news media reports on Yusaku's arrest, shocked and in a flurry about why he had caused such an upset with SOL Technology. They also note the disappearance of Playmaker, of Blue Angel, and of the ragtag team left behind to fend off against the enemies of the VRAINS.
Sometimes, if Aoi listens carefully, she can hear the phantom of Yusaku's voice. She can hear the calm and calculated words he'd say, the three-to-three pros and cons that he'd inevitably list when he'd be asked about a specific opinion. She can remember herself as the Blue Angel skipping and gliding over rooftops until it's just a board under her feet and a Data Stream beneath that. She can remember the heat of Cracking Dragon, of arms enclosing around her waist and pulling her away from the blast so that she could avoid account deletion. It hurts. It hurts. It's so painful, these memories, that all she wants to do is claw at herself until the itch that settles in her mind disappears.
Her former companions make it worse. They've come to her house, breaching the security restrictions her brother had set in place to arrive at her locked door. They'd begged, pleaded, for an understanding, for a realization, for her to just come and talk to them. Sick. It made her sick, sicker than she'd ever felt.
She'd had to choose one or the other. She'd had to sacrifice between Akira and Playmaker, between her brother and her best friend.
She couldn't have both.
So she had none.
~Bad End~