Soushi woke, to find that he was dreaming. Or, more accurately, he was in someone else's dream.
Soushi rarely dreamed, even before the Siegfried System, but ever since his first crossing, he hadn't had a single dream of his own. He'd thought he had, a few times, only to realize that he was not the one dreaming. Soushi was simply a specter, in worlds and minds that were not his own. Often, in settings that he did not belong.
The dreams were one of the strangest side-effects of crossing, and the only one that he didn't mention at his checkups. It was well theorized how the physical aspects of the Sigfreid System's crossing would work. Toomi-sensei had been ready with pain pills shortly after she let Kazuki go that first night, and over the skirmishes and injuries, he'd received a menagerie of specialized medications that mirrored the ones his pilots received -though he often received them in much larger doses. Whereas he didn't have to go through the mandatory checkups that the actual pilots did after every battle, that was only because what he was going through was well theorized, his reactions were expected, and though the side effects were odd, his life was in very little actual danger. The dreams were not expected, and he didn't share them. The dreams were his, and as selfish as it made him, he wouldn't share.
When they'd all gone, he'd be the one to remember that Kouyo dreamed of marrying Shouko, that Mamoru dreamed of acting, that Maya dreamed of sharing ice cream with Kazuki and talking about having children. It was his punishment, he'd always be left behind. The others would go off to protect the island, and they might all die. Even if piloting didn't ruin them, with time, the assimilation process would. He'd be stuck on the island, forever, reliving the pain that they'd endured, and hearing the whispers of their dying words.
Soushi had it lucky, and he hated it.
The good dreams were only painful in retrospect, though they did serve to make him feel more isolated than was likely healthy; but that wasn't anything new. The nightmares were unbearable: the failures, the fears, the funerals, the deaths, the assimilations. He'd been there time and time again, and felt every sort of emotional ache and artificial high that the subconscious could dig up. It was exhausting, but Soushi was lucky.
He had sleeping pills that worked. They worked so well that when he started taking them as a child, his night terrors, and all his dreams, almost completely disappeared. They worked on these dreams too, but he couldn't bring himself to use them anymore. In the dreams, he could do things, and sometimes, he was actually listened to. He could tell Maya that he was sorry he'd let Shouko die. He could tell Mamoru how ridiculous he looked in that helmet, and to just follow orders. He could tell Sakura that she wasn't the only one who'd lost a father. He could be as honest as was physically possible for him, and not be afraid of the consequences. There were no expectations, no responsibility, no island to protect, no paradise to uphold, and no picking Fafner over Kazuki.
He almost always woke up with headaches and lingering fatigue, but he found that taking naps during the day, when no one else was sleeping, made things significantly easier on him. He had promised himself that if it ever got out of hand, he would use the pills. But he hadn't yet, and he didn't want to.
That day had been slightly different. It was still early in the day, and he'd retreated to his quarters in Alvis for a short nap, fatigue nipping at his heals from a particularly violent dream from Sakura the night before. He'd been asleep before his head had hit the pillow.
But Soushi found himself in a dream. During the day, it was rare to fall into another's dreams, but there he was, fully aware of what was happing. He was on the beach, dark water lapping at his feet, the ocean darker than usual, and the sky as black as pitch. Soushi looked up to the sky, and was not surprised when no stars shone down on him. Details like that didn't always make it into dream worlds. Ironically, Kenji was the only one who consistently had stars in his dreams.
Soushi sighed. It should have been Kenji. Sometimes, he nodded off in class, but usually, those naps didn't last long, and the dreams often consisted of mild bullying, but with the lack of stars, Soushi couldn't be sure. It was nothing to be concerned about, but the situation would hinder the amount of sleep he would get. Sleep he needed.
He was contemplating the situation, when he heard a scream. A horrible, gut wrenching scream, that washed over him like cold rain. The sound had come from in town, away from the ocean, and Soushi was running towards the sound before he realized what he was doing, barreling up the stairs that led away from the beach as fast as he could. Good dreams didn't start with screaming.
The scream didn't stop, it kept going, like the person who was screaming didn't need air. The sound ballooned around him, and multiplied as if the same person could scream with more than one voice, and from all angles. Even still, Soushi knew without a shadow of a doubt which direction it was coming from. The dreams always led him to where he needed to be, always. But with the sudden sound of screaming, came an unbearable sense of guilt. It was so strong and came upon him so suddenly, that he stumbled, and missed the step in front of him, not catching enough of the stone stairway to keep himself standing upright. With a sudden gasp he fell on the concrete stairway, and slid down a few steps. He was thankful that it didn't really injure him, but he could feel his brain compensating for the lack of pain, as his legs and hip began to ache where he'd made impact. It wasn't real pain, because he wouldn't bruise, but his brain wouldn't let him forget it either.
Soushi grimaced, and pulled himself back up to a standing position with ease. The screaming hadn't stopped, but it did waver from time to time, before intensifying. Soushi took a deep breath, and shoved down the overwhelming emotion. He should have been more prepared for that, but it had caught him off guard. He had to juggle many different types of emotions, in all levels of severity while in the Sigfreid System. Handling one wasn't too hard when he was prepared for it.
Once he'd forced his mind to calm down, he continued a quick pace towards the source of the screams, which had yet to stop. As he got closer, he realized where the scream was coming from, and he stopped for just a moment. Now that he thought of it, the scream did sound like that of a child, and the ocean had been very, very dark, both tell tale signs of what might come next. Soushi hoped his conclusion was wrong.
His fears were confirmed as he stepped into the small courtyard, and found two small children, one brandishing a stick, with tears rolling down his face, and the other covered in blood and screaming in pain, his tiny hand clutching the side of his head, where his left eye was.
Soushi always knew who's dream he was in, simply by looking at the dreamer. There were always signs, like the stars for Kenji, or how the ocean's in Kazuki's dreams were always as black as pitch, but there was just something different about how the dreamer looked, in comparison to the people and scenery around them. It wasn't anything he could physically see, but it was a sense. It felt the same way that visiting Tsubaki felt. It was like meeting the core of that world, and Soushi had grown to consider it in those terms. The minute he laid his eyes on the children, he knew what was going on.
This was Kazuki's dream, and he was reliving that event in their childhood. The one that Soushi had instigated, the one where he had lost him his eye, the one that had taught him not to run away, the one that had ruined their friendship. Soushi couldn't tell if the guilt running through him was his own, or Kazuki's but he shoved it down. There was no use in such regrets, the past was in the past, and he strove to let that go. It didn't always work.
Soushi was watching the scene, trying not to tense as the child vision of himself writhed and screamed in anguish, when Kazuki -the child he had once been- settled his wide, anguished eyes on Soushi. And just like that, the screaming stopped, echoing out of existence, and the world around them melted. It was an unnerving sensation, to have the world dissolve around you, but it was very common for dreams, and Soushi didn't show his unease. It was uncommon for the dreamer to acknowledge him, as a viewer. It was far more common that he was entirely ignored, or went unseen within the dreamscape. There had been many times when he'd wanted to do something within the dreams, and he had simply been unable to, but there had also been times where he'd been able to directly manipulate outcomes. There was nothing stable, or consistent about his dream-crossing, the rules often changed on him, and he was usually caught trying to figure out how those rules had changed, but the sudden and immediate acknowledgement was unnerving.
The child in front of him was still crying, big messy tears streaming down his face. The stick remained in his hand for just a few seconds more, until Kazuki opened his small hand, and the stick simply evaporated into nonexistence. As if the stick had somehow stabilized him, Kazuki collapsed to the ground, his knees taking the brunt of the fall. From there, he bawled, covering his eyes with his hands, and screaming Soushi's name over and over again, intermittent with pleas for forgiveness.
It was physically painful to listen to, and Soushi found himself closing the distance between them without even considering any other option. But once he was in front of Kazuki, small and despondent, and wailing before him, Soushi was suddenly struck with what to do about it. He wanted to make this better, to comfort Kazuki, but was that something he was even capable of? Soushi knew that their relationship was closer now, but it was also something entirely different from normal relationships. Soushi knew that Kazuki had guilt, but he'd always wondered if Kazuki remembered Soushi's guilt too, or if the memory suppressants had taken that away from him entirely. Soushi had never known, and he was to ashamed to ever breach the subject in person. Speaking frankly with Kazuki was never easy, pesky emotions always seemed to get in the way, and it always took him longer to get them in order. Even in the dreams, it was hardest with Kazuki.
"Kazuki." He tried to get the child to stop by calling his name. He tried to make it soft, to coax the child out of his anguish induced stupor, but it did nothing. Kazuki kept crying and screaming, begging for forgiveness. "Kazuki" This time he said it with just a little more force, but it didn't help either. Kazuki still had his hands over his eyes, begging and crying for forgiveness, but now he was also shaking his head 'no no no'.
"Kazuki!" This time, Soushi let go of his hesitation. He knelt down, and wrapped his arms around the young version of Kazuki in front of him. Soushi made sure to hold him within arm's length, so that he could see into Kazuki's face. "Kazuki, stop!"
With a loud whimper, Kazuki stopped screaming and slowly pulled his hands away from his face. Soushi could see the angry red puffs around his eyes, the strain in the child's body, and the tremble of his lips, as they fell into a jagged line. The child looked up, and his crying started a new. Kazuki tried to pull away, but Soushi wouldn't let him. Instead of holding him, Soushi brought his hands around the childn's back, and hugged Kazuki, molding their bodies together. "I-i didn't mean to. I-I-" Kazuki didn't get the rest out, before hiccupping and folding into Soushi's arms. The child cried and cried, his tears sinking into the uniform Soushi wore.
"I don't want to be this person. This person who hurts others, who hurts Soushi." The voice was not that of the child in his arms, but it was Kazuki's voice, deep and resonating as it echoed around them. Soushi looked up, trying to see if he could pinpoint the voices location, could see where grown Kazuki was hiding, but there was nothing to see. The only Kazuki there, was the small whimpering thing in his arms, and as if on cue, the child in Soushi's arms cried louder, and wrapped his small arms around Soushi's waist, fisting his fingers in the fabric of Soushi's jacket.
Soushi imagined that if it was Maya, she'd know what to do. She'd have calmed Kazuki down with just a few well placed words. Maya was like that. He wasn't. He didn't have any comforting whispers, any gestures that would have made this better. He had always wondered if he would be better at these things if he remembered his mother's face, but he shoved that thought away. Tsubaki liked physical contact, even if she didn't like it from him, so this would do. This had to do.
But the Kazuki in his arms was crying louder, suffering more, and Soushi didn't know what he could do. He didn't even know if the physical contact was even helping. He settled one hand on the back of Kazuki's head, and nuzzled their heads closer together.
Kazuki sniffled, and gripped him tighter. Soushi thought things were starting to settle, when Kazuki snuck a look at his face, and whatever calm he'd achieved shattered. The child was once again screaming in his arms, and hiding in his shoulder. At the same time, wind started whistling around him in great torrents, screaming all around them, whipping their hair around, and forcing Soushi to narrow his eyes from the onslaught. Soushi had no idea how on earth he should handle this, or even if he could. One look at him had sent Kazuki into anguish once more, and the environment, the wind violently whirling around them, was an obvious side effect of Kazuki's volatile emotions. Soushi knew that it had been the damned scar that had been the cause of it. The old injury still brought him so much grief.
"I hate this person. This person that I am." The disembodies voice was back, booming all around them like thunder, even if Kazuki's tone was even, and measured. In response the crying turned to outright wailing again, and the sounds of the child and the wind merged into a great howling, a great torrent of emotional sound.
All Soushi could do was hold on to the child in his arms. "Stop it!" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and he folded in around Kazuki, as if his body could shield the child. "You didn't do anything wrong, Kazuki!"
"This person-" A great howl of wind erupted, and it sounded distinctly like a scream. Soushi force his eyes shut, and held on tighter to the child in his arms. "No, I. I hurt you."
"I am thankful! Kazuki!" The moment the words were out of his mouth, the dreamscape stilled. The wind stopped, the crying child in his arms went silent, and all was quiet. Soushi looked around in confusion, before the Kazuki in his arm's moved. It wasn't a lot, but the child pulled away ever so slightly, so that he could look up into Soushi's face.
Those brown eyes looked up at him, and for that single blessed moment, they were calm. Soushi didn't fumble with his words, he didn't think about what he should say, or shouldn't say. He had this reprieve, and he had to use it. Kazuki would likely forget it, but Soushi wanted these words to matter. "Kazuki, this scar is very important to me. It has made me who I am. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if you had listened to me. This person, this me, is only me, because of you, and because of this precious scar you gave me. Every day, I am reminded of my mistakes, of what I must do better, of how I fit in this world. You taught me a lesson, that no one else could have. I needed you then, Kazuki, and even if you don't understand, you gave me exactly what I needed. Don't-" And in a rush, sense came back to him.
Even here, where it probably didn't matter, being so honest was painful. He was not good with emotions, he chased them away, locked them up in boxes that would never be opened, but like water, they always seeped out of his bindings.
In some childish attempt to hide himself, he embraced Kazuki again, burring his head into the child's small shoulder. He hoped Kazuki understood, because he couldn't say it again, would never be able to utter the words, or finish that thought. He wanted Kazuki to know, but talking was so hard, and he's screwed it up so badly before. Almost lost Kazuki over one damned word, and Kazuki hadn't understood. Soushi could feel his lip trembling. He wanted so badly to be understood.
"Don't, Kazuki. Don't."
When he opened his eyes, Soushi was in his room. He could feel the weariness hanging on him like weights, and he could feel the wetness of his eyes leaking onto his pillow. He could still feel the warmth of Kazuki's body in his arms, could still feel the overwhelming need to hide, to run away, and wondered if that was exactly what he'd done. Had he abandoned Kazuki to his own dream? Had he run away from his problems again?
He let his eyes drift shut, and brought his hand to trace the smooth skin of the scar over his eye.
He had to go back. Kazuki was still dreaming, so he had to go back, and finish what he'd started. No running away when things got rough, he told himself. But even just laying there, he knew he would fall back into sleep in only a few moments. Even closed, his eyelids felt weighted down.
Soushi hoped, that when he did fall back into dreams, that Kazuki would be waiting for him, and that he would be able to finish what he'd said, but in a few moments, when sleep did come, darkness was all he knew.
-\/-
Kazuki didn't have a rational reason to jump out of bed as fast as he could, dress, and run to Alvis.
A monstrous headache that had made him unspeakably dizzy and a fever, had made him decide to stay home for that day. It was rare for him to feel ill, and even more irregular for him to stay home for it, but that day, he'd taken the advice the others had given him, and he'd stayed home, quickly falling back into a fitful sleep.
He didn't remember if he had dreamed or not, but the urgent urge to see Soushi likely meant that he had. Sometimes, for reasons he didn't understand, that happened when he slept. Today, it had been worse than usual. Normally, he could just try and shrug off the feeling, but that day, it would not take no for an answer. To his surprise, he woke with little to no remnants of his earlier condition, and nothing had stood in his way as he'd tossed on something presentable, and dashed out of the house and to Alvis.
In fact, the only thing that stood in his way, was the white sliding door that led into Soushi's barren little sanctum.
There was no way that Kazuki had clearance into Soushi's private room, and it was only as he stood there, that he realized just how irrational he was being. Just because he'd had some urge to see Soushi, he'd come running all this way, just to be deflected by a door that he couldn't open.
Kazuki sighed. He could just press the call button. He was sure Soushi would let him in, but what would he say? That he'd woken up and wanted to go see him? How irrational the truth sounded! He also had no idea how he knew that Soushi would be in his room, now that he thought of it. For one reason or another, he hadn't run into anyone else on his way there to ask where Soushi was, but he'd had this sense, that he somehow knew Soushi would be in his room. How irrational it all sounded.
Kazuki was just about to turn around and leave, when something clicked. The little red light by the door's control pad turned green. The door slid open, and at the same time Kazuki felt the distinct presence of the island's core wash over him. He smiled in thanks, and cautiously entered the room.
Just as he had somehow known, Soushi was in his room. His form was curled in on itself, unmoving as it lay motionless on the bed, the only signs of life were the long, measured breaths of sleep.
He should have left. Kazuki knew that. He knew that he hadn't asked Soushi if he could be here, didn't have any rational reason to stay. But the moment he saw Soushi, dark circles under his eyes, and looking so peaceful in sleep, Kazuki knew he wasn't going to leave. He just knew that he needed to stay. Even with that scar glaring at him from across the room, Kazuki remained. He thought about taking the vacant side of the bed, about curling in around Soushi as he slept, and feeling his even breath on his cheek, but Kazuki didn't dare.
Instead, he took a seat on the couch, and watched the even up and down of Soushi's chest, allowing his eyes to linger over the scar he'd made, and wondering what life would be like, if Soushi didn't have it. Would they be normal best friends? Would they talk about girls, and manga, like Kenji and Mamoru? Would they have drifted apart anyway? Would they be normal?
Kazuki didn't know, but as he sat there watching Soushi, he thought that maybe, what they had now was better. Now, every moment counted. Every look, every fight, every shared thought. It all mattered, and even though he had so many regrets, Kazuki knew he wouldn't change that. Even if he might have wanted to be a different person, he would never want his Soushi to be different.
It was a strange sort of feeling, knowing true regret, but also accepting that those same mistakes had shaped the world around him into something worth protecting.
He was sure that Soushi would feel the same way.