A/N: I do not own Inazuma Eleven.
This fic corresponds to the Monthly Special Days for March: Multiple Personality Day (5 March).
Possible tissue alert. You may want to standby just in case.
Words in italics refer to flashbacks.
Mirror
The cold, harsh wind whipped relentlessly at his face as he trudged onwards. Pulling his jacket tightly around his body, he closed his eyes and focused on taking one step forward at a time. A soft piece of fabric flew wildly in the storm with one end anchored firmly in his clenched right fist.
He didn't need to see where he was going. The area was as familiar to him as the back of his hand. After all, he came here every year without fail. Stopping deliberately, he reached out his free left hand to the side and felt around. His fingers met frozen wood. Cracking his eyes open, he brushed away the snow that had piled on top, and smiled at the familiar sign.
"Northern Ridge".
Fubuki stroked the white scarf absently as he sat against a small shrine-like structure, staring out into the endless fields of white snow.
The snowstorm had died down to a safe level by the time he had arrived. It was as if it knew he was coming back to this place at this time of the year and thus allowed him safe passage. This was the place where the Inazuma Caravan found him shivering in the snow, alone at the side of the road.
He smiled at the memory.
Breaking his gaze at the empty space before him, Fubuki looked down at the white scarf in his lap.
Natsumi had retrieved it from the soccer field and returned it to him after they had left Mount Fuji. He had nearly slapped himself when he realised that he had forgotten to pick it up after the match with Genesis, but held back and eagerly took it from her hands with a word of grateful thanks.
It was Atsuya's favourite. What would he say if he had just carelessly left it behind? The memory of his dead brother made Fubuki clutch the scarf almost desperately.
He sat numbly at the roadside with half-closed, blank eyes. The paramedics had given him a quick check to make sure he was unharmed before instructing him to sit tight at that spot and stay there.
They frantically shouted at one another and tried to dig out his family, buried under a mountain of snow. He didn't understand it. Couldn't they just dig themselves out? After being pushed out of the car, he had rolled to a stop on the icy ground with some snow falling on him. If he could brush it off and stand up, why couldn't they?
Come to think of it, who pushed him out in the first place? His body really hurt. He bet it was Atsuya. When his little brother got out, he would throw at him the biggest snowball he could make with his small hands as hard as he could. That would teach him a lesson. Fubuki grinned at the thought, but for some reason his smile didn't go all the way like it usually did.
What was this dark, fearful feeling?
A cry from one of the paramedics snapped his attention back to the unfolding scene. There were so many of them blocking the way. He couldn't see a thing. Did they find someone? His mother perhaps?
Scrambling up, he tried to break into the crowd of paramedics to see what was going on, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. Looking at its owner, he tilted his head in confusion as a woman shook her head at him in sadness and sympathy.
There were more yells coming from them. He turned his head to look, and saw one of the paramedics casting a piece of fabric hastily to the side. His eyes widened as he recognised Atsuya's favourite scarf.
Wrenching himself from the woman's grip, he chased after the fluttering white garment as it flew away. Grabbing it as it got caught on a rock jutting out from the ground, he hugged it close to his chest before turning to look back. From where he was, he could see everything.
They had found his family. His face broke into a wide smile, but it quickly dissolved into confusion.
What was all that equipment around them? The paramedics were using so many tools. He recognised some of them. He had seen them in hospitals. His father took Atsuya and him there once when their grandmother became really sick. Did his family catch a cold from staying out too long in the snow?
The paramedics looked urgent as they tried to wake his father and Atsuya up. They had already left his mother at the side. She looked like she was sleeping, but her chest wasn't moving up and down like it usually did.
Something started to grip his heart. The hand holding onto Atsuya's scarf clenched into a fist.
He could not tear his eyes off. He stared and stared until a body moved into the way and crouched down before him. A pair of arms pulled him into a hug.
It was that same woman from earlier.
Releasing him, she gently cupped his cheeks and turned his head to face hers. It was then that he recognised her. She was the woman who had found him at the side of the road. He had been calling out and trying to find his family. He had told her that a lot of snow had hit his father's car, and that he had been pushed out but his family were still inside. He had asked her to help him dig them out. For some reason, she had looked frightened and quickly took out her phone to call the other people here.
Her eyes brimmed with tears. Why was she crying? Did he do something wrong? The dreadful feeling in his heart began to grow quickly.
Behind her, he spotted the paramedics carrying his parents' and brother's bodies on stretchers and into the ambulance. They were pale and unmoving.
In his mind, something finally clicked. He gasped in shock as his eyes widened and his knees gave way. As he fell against her, body trembling uncontrollably, she hugged him again and stroked his back sadly.
He screamed.
A sudden breeze snapped him out of his thoughts. Looking down at his clenched fist, Fubuki took a deep breath and released his grip on Atsuya's scarf. He smoothed it out, trying to get rid of the wrinkles he made.
That had been many years ago, but he still missed his family terribly, especially Atsuya. He had spent so much time with his younger brother - playing soccer, having snowball fights and racing down snow-covered hills on their snowboards.
The loneliness that followed the accident had been torturous. He had felt so lost and terrified with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. It nearly drove him over the edge of sanity.
He needed Atsuya so badly. It was the only way he could be stronger so the pain wouldn't hurt so much. He had always been weaker and less confident than his twin. It was probably because of this that Atsuya's personality began taking root in him and grew.
To some extent, he felt more at ease with his brother by his side, or in this case, inside of him. The power that flowed through his body when his other half took control was so addictive. It felt so good that he started to use it more and more often. If his teammates from Hakuren noticed anything, they didn't say a word. Why would they? After all, it was Atsuya who helped them to score many goals.
Everything was okay. He would still have a part of his family, he would still be able to play soccer well, he would still be perfect -
Fubuki laughed sadly and shook his head. It was because he was so obsessed with the idea of perfection that everything started to fall apart. The match with Epsilon was the turning point. Instead of helping him, Atsuya began to dominate him. The balance between his two personalities began to falter.
For once, Fubuki feared his own twin and later the soccer that he loved. The more Atsuya took control of him, the more his true self vanished into the darkness of his heart. Trying to keep his brother alive and controlling him at the same time started to take their toll on him, both physically and mentally. If it hadn't been for Aphrodi and Gouenji…
He smiled. It was his friends who he could count on, who would support him and fight by his side. It was all thanks to them that he was no longer alone, that he could play soccer to his heart's content and genuinely enjoy it.
"You're not alone anymore, brother."
Those were Atsuya's parting words to him. Fubuki suddenly felt a strange presence somewhere behind, but he didn't need to look back to identify it.
He could feel his brother.
They were twins, but they were also individuals. Two became one, but one became two.
Not anymore. Only Fubuki Shirou was left, but Atsuya would live as a part of his memories.
A/N: In the lighter sense of the phrase, Happy Multiple Personality Day.