When Akito wakes up in the morning, he finds himself on the couch wrapped in a raggedy blanket slightly torn at the edges. In front of him there is a plate with a piece of golden bread on it, and a glass of orange juice, now lukewarm. Kaito... Akito feels a moment of joy, but as he gets up, he realizes he is unclothed. He's let it happen again. He's let Kaito have his fun again.
Ever since Mom died a few years ago, Kaito had been looking after Akito, raising money to the best of his ability. But back then, who, really, would hire a barely legal eighteen-year-old to work in an office? A job with respectable pay? After the first few rejections, Kaito remained strong. He lived, he loved Akito still; but after time passed, he became rebellious and distant, grew his silvery hair long, and threw away proper dress by wearing a tank top each day.
And that was when he began to drink and drink and drink and drink. Until he couldn't think, couldn't see, until all he wanted was cheap love to satisfy his carnal hungers. It didn't matter who it came from, prostitutes, women at the bar, his very own brother. Sometimes he'd be devastatingly angry, and took a liking to beating Akito with his belt when he was drunk. That dark leather belt, Dad's belt, the Whip of Death. Trapped in his own shattering world, Kaito proceeded to drag those around him down with him.
Deep in reverie, Akito munches the bread hungrily, gulping the orange juice with gusto even though it is tepid. He is full, satisfied, his stomach full for once, but something is missing. Akito is hollow and desolate, so he goes to his prison of a room once more.
The Rush magazine is still on the floor with Minami Itsuki's face on the cover. Akito picks it up, smiling slightly, and then gasps as he sees the date on the front: May Issue. Right now, it's well into June. Akito realizes he has missed the latest installment, and hurriedly tries to find clean clothes to wear. All that is left is a sweatshirt and thin, beige pants. Akito doesn't care, and he carefully climbs out the living room window and down the fire escape.
There is no way he will go out that cursed front door, that demonic gate from which kind people leave and cruel shells of their past selves return. The damn door that marks every time Kaito comes back a changed man. Akito makes it down safely, and runs to the corner deli.
"You want the usual, 'Kito?" Sandy, the beer-bellied, elderly, deli owner, smiles a grin that sends his face into a contortion of wrinkles. Akito, accustomed to it, laughs back.
"I'm sorry I can't pay you this time, Sandy." Akito sighs reproachfully.
"Nah! Don't worry 'bout it, kid," Sandy swats him away, "You're the only one who gets this 'zine anyways. Good brats like you should get nicer stuff, y'know?"
Akito beams heartbreakingly, and Sandy is glad he spends money each month to buy Rush. God knows what kind of brother the poor kid has.
Taking the magazine carefully, Akito opens it to the front cover, where the headlines hit him full force: MINAMI ITSUKI: AT SHOW IN CHILDHOOD HOME, SALMUDENA. Akito can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe. Itsuki. Minami Itsuki. Is coming here.
Just a few weeks, just a few weeks… Please, Akito pleads, let Itsuki come before Kaito hurts me again.
And right then. Right there. Is when Akito begins to hear the voices.