And... the final chapter! Just the epilogue to go. Stay tuned for some fun~

Warnings: suicidal ideation, emotional abuse, flashbacks, addiction

Chapter 36

—A—

Waking up to a darker room than I had gone to sleep in was a new feeling. The guys had insisted I take Rowen's room when I had been so tired I couldn't move, pointing to the blackout blinds drawn tight. Even with what I assumed to be a very neon night-life, the room was barely lighter than a phone turned on.

Rowen's bedside clock read just shy of two thirty. Less than I would've liked to sleep, but at least it was some. And it wasn't too late in Ottawa, so there was unlikely to be a pile of work waiting for me.

The thought of going back to work made me want to die all over again, but at least it was manageable.

I pushed myself up with a groan before heading into the living room, Fullmetal Alchemist still on. Tessa slept on a futon, Sage slept on the couch, and Rowen sat on the floor in front of the couch, leaning against it with Sage's hand on his shoulder. Kento was asleep in the room next door… and Ryo was just waking up in that same room, having taken Cye's place while Cye was visiting family.

Ryo hadn't been there, when I fell asleep.

He came out of the room just as Rowen got up and stretched. My attention went to the brightness Wildfire radiated, allowing me to see him easily even as my eyes adjusted to the dark. "Feeling better?"

I let out a breathy laugh, threading my fingers through my hair. "Enough…"

He put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me into a hug, one hand rubbing my back. "I'm glad to hear it." He pulled back, hand going to my head. "Wanted… to be here when you woke up, just…"

"Your PTSD?" At his nod, I briefly hugged him again. "I'm. Kinda glad I got to tell you I'm feeling a little better."

He squeezed me so tight I could barely breathe before letting me go.

Everyone else woke up to some degree to ask me how I was doing. My answer was better but I was still tired, better but I just wanted to go home to eat. I kept it buried deep down how much my job made me want to die; I didn't want to have that conversation, right this moment.

I wanted to go back to sleep, but I couldn't.

Dais appeared right as we were on the conversation of how I would get home. I left with a general commentary on when they'd wake up and I could call at any time if it got bad, they'd be there for me. They didn't want me to ever feel so alone I had to do something drastic. Their sleep wasn't more important than my life.

It was exceptionally hard to believe that, but they repeated it so much it had to be true.

After a few final goodbye hugs— Tessa throwing in a kiss on my cheek—Dais poofed me back to my apartment. Sun flooded the space in the way my internal clock told me it should, and I was back to being alone.

I blinked.

The place was clean.

Dais smiled at my reaction. "We… hoped clearing your space would help clear your mind."

I laughed softly. "I… I don't know what to say…"

Dais kept his hand on my shoulder. "Do you want to spend some time in the youjakai, with us?"

I looked down. "Kinda want to avoid going back to work, so yes."

He poofed me to a room full of low, lounge-friendly couches, all around a table with a blanket flowing down from under the top. A television on the wall showed Smash Brothers; all the other Warlords other than Anubis held a controller, one lounging empty on the table for Dais. But the game paused the minute I came in.

I swallowed, shifting awkwardly by Dais' side. One of Cale's dogs came up from their position near the table to sniff my hand, whining softly as they pushed into my thigh like a giant cat. Scratching them was almost on automatic, just to give something for my hands to do.

Cale stood up from the game. "Do you want breakfast, Kure?"

I nodded. "Dunno what I want, but…"

He smiled at me. "Don't worry. This place is called the City of Desire for a reason."

I turned to follow him walking behind me, seeing him go into an open… kitchen, something far more modern than I would have expected. Then again, a television with video games was also far more modern than I would have expected. The whole room was light and airy despite the curtains closed. My stark white and light grey space looked downright somber compared to the tans and dark wood of this room.

Anubis watched me, staying unusually distant. "After they lived in the ningenkai for a time, they brought back some of the comforts of the modern world."

I laughed softly as leftover food from yesterday— only in full containers— came out of the fridge. And bacon curry fried rice. And burritos.

My mouth watered and I dove in. Food for everyone had gone on the table, I had cozied up under the table with blissful soft heat, Anubis beside me with the rest of the Warlords on the other side, and Cale's dog Inkblot laying half under the heat of the table.

By the time my fried rice was done, a tournament among the four Warlords had ended. I reached to the table to grab the next dish I wanted, kept warm by the heating element under the surface, when I saw Kayura pass her controller off to Anubis.

He gripped it firmly, causing a ripple of mixed emotions among the seasonal armours that was kept from me. But from my own flash of guilt, I knew exactly what it was.

I had nearly taken that opportunity from them.

Everyone was far more muted than they could have been at teaching their old friend how to play. All-too familiar grief underscored it, with how he had watched but didn't know how to actually use the controller; from the feel of it, he could barely remember how to use his hands, his somewhat more physical form so recent.

Flashes of anger flicked like fireflies in the connection. I let them wash over me, almost relieved that finally somebody was angry at me. Finally there was pain and heartbreak and them wanting to be selfish, wanting to possess me.

Emotions I deserved, instead of the heartbreaking understanding the Ronin had given me.

They played one game before I felt Anubis disconnect from Dusk, taking some of my energy— and honestly most of his— with it. His visible presence vanished.

"Pushed too far?" Kayura said to the empty air.

A sense of agreement floated through. I wanted to offer more energy, but his ghost pushed it away. Saying I needed it for myself. I tried to hide how I didn't want to give it, caught in a tug of war between how useful I had been, a good thing, and how used I felt, a bad thing.

He seemed to understand that, too. Even if he didn't exactly want to connect with me at the same depth we had before, for painfully obvious reasons. The whole connection threatened to burst with barely-contained something, but from the rolling tension, anger was the main ingredient.

Cale glanced at me, trying to mask it. "Would you like to rest?"

I shrugged. "I mean, I just woke up…"

Sekhmet chuckled, although it hardly sounded honest. "Cale would tell you how revitalizing a morning nap is."

Cale narrowed his eyes. "Says the one who wakes after my chores are finished."

Dais snorted. "Kayura seems to manage fine."

That got an out and out glare.

I tried not to shrink at the reminder everyone got up before I did and was more productive before I was and there was my mom's voice, again, reminding me how much I would never get anywhere. Being around so much anger only made it worse, me feeling on pins and needles at when they were going to explode at me. This wasn't an if. There was too much emotion for it to be an if.

Summer's threads slowly strangled those voices. "We would… like for you to have a room here, that you can escape to."

I swallowed, trying to push his armour away. "I need to stop escaping."

Kayura shook her head. "If it's escaping here or…"

Neither of us wanted her to finish that sentence, so I was glad for her to trail off. At least that felt more sad than angry.

Sekhmet leaned forward. "As we said, time moves more slowly here. If you need time without guilt, to… think…"

I was too worn down to resist, already; all I could do was half-nod in agreement. I impassively let Dais take me down halls of shoji screens that felt more like what I expected to exist in a palace that had existed for thousands of years. Candles flickered in ornate lanterns, the wood floors mirror smooth under my socked feet. Statues with a sort of… friendly monstrocity marked the corners, making navigating in what would otherwise be a maze relatively landmark-filled.

He stopped me in front of one, hand still on my shoulder. "Close your eyes and imagine the room of your dreams. The space of your dreams. Whatever you desire will be behind this door."

I licked my lips. "You don't… have to…"

He paused, wrestling with words. The emotions from earlier were coming back in force. "If it means keeping you, as selfish as that sounds, then we do have to."

I clenched my fists. "I don't want to be kept."

He bowed his head, turning me to face him. "Please. Allow yourself one moment of imagining what it would take for you to stay. We don't want to ask that of you without giving you something in return."

I had to admit, that possibility was appealing.

Some of the puffed-up-ness in my chest dissipated and I turned towards the door, at least going to try and humour him. I let my mind go wild, all of my old, long-dead childhood dreams dragged up to the surface despite the pain of remembering how old they were.

Once I was thoroughly satisfied it would be impossible— secretly thinking that there was nothing that could ever reach it, that what was behind this door would just prove how unrealistic all of this was— I slid the shoji screen open.

And gasped.

A wall of windows looked out to the beautiful youjakai sky, constantly-shifting colours looking like a painting. Golden curtains punctuated them every few feet, the lack of light showing through them revealing how they were solid blackout. Low shelves under them in dark mahogany anchored the space, books and sculptures and pictures dotting them.

The four-poster bed in matching wood tones had much softer curtains, these in rose and a soft, fuzzy texture that made me go grab them. My fingers of one hand tangled in the material while my other hand smoothed over the golden and cherry blossom patterned duvet cover, it feeling warm like cotton but soft like silk.

The dresser was covered in some of my favourite makeup, the mirror beautifully delicate— a chair in the corner had a lamp curving over it and I recognized the chair from the university pride centre, the chair that made me feel the safest. Night-tables rounded everything off and I finally looked down at the carpet: a circle in gold and pink with roses on the border.

Dais stood at the entrance. "You have beautiful tastes."

I couldn't close my jaw. "I've wanted a room like this since I was a kid…!"

He stared at me, head tilted to one side. "I'm sure this would be very simple to achieve."

I paused, my breath leaving me.

This was simple.

I knew enough about interior design to calculate. The furniture was about two thousand dollars, maybe three, and the fabrics were maybe a grand. It would take time, but a piece here, a piece there. I already had a few basic pieces, like the dresser I had splurged for. It looked remarkably similar to the one now in the room. All I needed was a mirror.

I looked at the floor. "My mom never let me redo my room until it matched her tastes…"

Kayura peeked her head into my room, her own jaw dropping. "Can I borrow some of this?"

I laughed, no real joy in the sound. "Go ahead."

Dais nudged her inside. "She took quite a liking to decorating, when she was in the ningenkai. If you would like some company as you decorate your own space…"

She blushed. "I'd love to, if you'll have me…"

My breath shuddered. The tangle of emotions had shifted from anger to sadness more firmly, now, back to what it felt like around the guys. That softness that felt too cold. I ignored it, going to look at the barely-visible shoji screen between the wall of windows and the tall bookcase.

Opening it revealed a different kind of paradise.

The room was overflowing with art supplies. A single, moderately-sized window was high on the wall, but my eyes were drawn to the floor to ceiling shelves— and the ladder in front of them— full of paints, brushes, clay, markers, coloured pencils, and various other 'luxury' chemicals to experiment with their effects. A table in the middle was solidly square with a light wood top, something unlikely to clash with what I was painting. Another console-type table was pushed against the other wall, the bottom shelves packed with sketchbooks and loose paper, with the top giving room for whatever projects to dry.

I walked up to the table, noticing it was higher than average so I wouldn't kill my back as I bent over it. I dragged a stool from against the wall to sit, feeling everything very comfortable. The overhead light wasn't too stark, there were lamps everywhere I could use, but I could also just stare at a wall or a table surface.

Everything very me.

Kayura sounded thoroughly frozen behind me. "This… might be a little harder to recreate in your apartment."

I laughed. "Gee, ya think?"

"Just another reason for you to visit," Dais responded.

That… fondness in his tone. I didn't know how to process that fondness in his tone. They had been angry at me. They had been sad because of me. That meant yelling and screaming and accusations. It meant guilt trips and promises to never do it again and ultimatums. Bribery. Insistence I had no reason.

It didn't mean polite asking. It didn't mean listening to what I wanted. It didn't mean open offers.

It didn't mean this.

I twisted in my chair to address them. "Why are you even doing this?"

They both looked sheepish in different ways. Dais' jaw tensed, while Kayura looked down. The seasonal armours notably pulled away, less rage and anger but sorrow more intensely than any fury. It's like they didn't want me to feel anything from them. They just wanted to give me space.

Dais shook his head subtly. "The only thing we could do, in our… grief at losing another. Is to try and remove all reasons you could want to die."

I rolled my shoulders, looking away. "You were angry at me."

"We just want to know why," Kayura said, voice cracking for the first time I'd known her. Of course I caused it. Of course it was my fault. "Why you would… want to leave us."

Dais was slightly more level-headed. Slightly. "Suicide is… not something we have ever considered. Kourin's attempt was our first brush with it. The weight of what we had done rested on Cale, but even upon seeing that he didn't consider attempting. Yours is…" He swallowed, voice roughening. "The first time we are at a loss, as to why."

"Because I have it so good and so much support and so many people I relate to and—" I cut myself off, standing up from the stool to get away from this spot. "I get it. I'm just a selfish bitch who throws everything I have away."

"No." Dais' breath shuddered as he tried to continue. "We knew there had to be a reason, why you were— are in so much pain. But we cannot think of it for how we have only recently come into your life."

Kayura stepped up, cautiously placing a hand on my shoulder. "Will you at least… let us help you reach your dreams?"

I flinched. That was the nerve I had tried to bury all of yesterday. "I can't."

"Why not?"

If only she knew. If only anyone knew. I didn't want to tell anybody. I didn't want to face that any of my mom's voices were true. I just wanted to do work and try to forget I couldn't do it, try to forget that every trick in the book hadn't worked for me, try to forget I'll never be successful.

"Kure," Dais said softly. "Tell us."

I scrunched my eyes shut. "I'm not good enough to be successful."

Kayura wrapped her arms around my shoulders, so much like my sister I almost did a double-take. "I don't believe that."

"Everyone can be successful at something," Dais said. "You told us yourself, even our successes over the Ronin for Arago proved we had some measure of competence."

I shook my head. "I'm organized and detail oriented and keep track of things really well and… I can't do my job."

"What is it?"

"Coordination." I exhaled, finding my hand creeping to Kayura's wrist despite myself. "So keeping track of projects, and organizing, and… I'm always behind, I never have time to do anything else, emails send me into panic attacks, I…"

Kayura squeezed me. "Maybe it's not right for you."

"Everything's going to need coordination. If I can't do this…"

Her arms went even tighter. "But if… If it's killing you…"

I swallowed. "If I can't get this down, then everything will kill me."

A drop of water hit my shirt. "I don't want you to go."

Dais finally stepped forward the rest of the way, hugging us both. "None of us do."

Slowly, steadily, my body collapsed in on itself. First my throat, followed by my shoulders, stomach. Kayura's soft sniffling and Dais' tight grip helped and didn't, but the other Seasonal armours floating in definitely pushed me closer to crying. They seemed to understand more, now, emotions shifted to how they wanted me alive.

It just made me realize how much I still didn't want to be alive.

"If everything's going to kill me," I finally got out. "I might as well just stay with the thing where I know how it's going to."

Dais shook his head. "That, to me, is all the more reason to find something that will hurt you less, if… you are already in so much pain."

I swallowed, continuing to lean against him as my body just kept shaking. "I don't want to think about changing to something else."

Kayura loosened her grip, going to just tangling her hands in the back of my shirt. "Then stay here for awhile. Don't think about it."

Dais gently stroked my hair. "You can stay as long as you want. I'm sure Cale would say this will feel better after a nap."

I laughed, pulling away from them both to wipe my eyes. The tension and rolling emotions had sort of broken, more replaced by confusion. I could live with confusion. "Y-yeah, kinda want to try that bed."

We walked out of my art room and I paused, eyes caught on a fuzzy black ball curled up on the bed. The cat yawned and lazily stretched to at least two feet in length, looking up at me with amber eyes once they'd settled back down. White whiskers curled forward in front of an impressively floofy ruff, with an equally impressive floofy tail twitching the longer they went without attention.

I walked up and gently stroked their head, the fur some of the softest I had ever felt. Immediately their eyes closed and they began purring loudly, whiskers vibrating from the sound.

"Hi baby…"

A gentle trill was my reply, promptly followed by them getting up and hooking their paws over my shoulder. Their rump readily went against me as I picked them up in full, the motor in their chest continuing to run.

I laughed softly as they shoved their nose in my ear. "I think this is how you get adopted by a cat."

Dais laughed, coming up to rub the little lovebug's ears. He paused, glancing at Kayura to come over. "The stripes…"

She gasped. "Black Blaze?"

The cat looked towards her and trilled again, settling back against me. I frowned. "Black blaze?"

Dais nodded. "He gave his life to save White Blaze, after the latter died protecting the Ronin."

I adjusted the cat so I was looking at his face. "Is that your name? Black Blaze?"

He shoved his nose into my forehead and licked me as a reply.

"How about Blackie?"

He kneaded my collarbone with that.

I smiled, scratching between his shoulder blades. "Guess you're coming home with me, huh…"

He chirped in agreement and shoved his face under my chin, tucking himself against me.

I stood in the room and held him, settling into his purring. He'd hooked himself back against my shoulder, him heavy enough in my arms I had to sit down. He nuzzled me, and kneaded me, and gave off a stronger air of wanting me than any of the humans I had been with in the past twenty four hours. Or maybe, an air I could more readily believe.

My absolutely, positively wildest dream had been companionship.

Sitting here with the Warlords gushing over my cat, in a room tailor-made to be my escape…

Maybe some of my dreams could come true.

—~—

Sage walked out of class at 1355 to see a few messages from Alexa on the encrypted chat. She hadn't marked them as important, but for how she had been struggling since her suicide attempt, they were. Even if it was just things she thought he would find interesting, letting her know she was a presence in his life had rocketed to the top of his priority list.

The latest one read 'can you call me once you're out of class?', and it took most of his self control to not call immediately before reading why.

She was having an anxiety attack at the thought of leaving her job. Something that had been stressing her ever since she revealed how much it made her want to die. It had taken her days to tell them about her work after her attempt, and she'd slowly been approaching crisis point as she explored the full depth of what had been happening, fighting her mother's abuse along the way. Fighting her boss' abuse along the way. She'd been obsessing over this for weeks, by now.

He pulled up the keyboard on his phone and switched it to English, gently reaching out with Kourin to let her know he was available now. 'Still awake?'

Knots in Kure unwound. 'It's barely 1 am here so yes'

'Still want to talk?'

His phone ringing was the answer. He made his way to a quieter part of campus as he picked up. "Are you alright?"

"No but thanks for asking." She took a shuddering breath, Kure once again like the fragile glass it had been after her suicide attempt. "It feels like I'm just going to fail at whatever job I go after so I shouldn't even bother trying…"

His chest tightened, Kourin trying to to warm what had once again become a very cold heart. "What makes you think that?"

Her voice started breaking up; at least she was responding instead of isolating. "Everything relies on coordination so saying that I hate it is a guaranteed out…"

"Are you sure?" He forced himself to breathe, leaning against a wall in a mostly-deserted hallway. "It might just be what you're doing now. Has your boss offered any support?"

"I loved it in college is the thing! I was supposed to be one of the best coordinators and—" her voice hitched, before bubbling with laughter. "It's okay, Blackie. I'm okay."

Hearing her say that released some knots of tension. She had sent him dozens of pictures of her cat since he'd shown up in the youjakai for her, and he seemed to provide the physical company she needed day to day. But still— there was no replacement for a human voice. It's why Sage hadn't reached exclusively for the yoroi connection; taking time with somebody else instead of having a conversation at the speed of thought often provided the buffer needed to pull someone out of a crisis.

"I'm sure if he could talk, he'd want you to try," Sage said lightly. "And honestly… college is its own environment. It's alright to change once you get out. Especially since, from what you've said before, you didn't have time to explore yourself and now you do." He paused momentarily, checking to see if she had a retort before continuing. "What would you love to do?"

"Write," she responded immediately. "But… there isn't a lot of money in that."

He frowned. "Are you sure? Rowen talks about how much grant writers make often enough…"

That got her to pause, faintest spark of hope in her yoroi. "I've never really looked into it."

"Do that." He waited for any potential response again, listening for how she was taking it. Soft sniffles were the only thing on the line. "Let it out. It's alright to be afraid."

The dam broke, taking his heart with it.

He didn't know how the guys had survived, listening to his pain. Perhaps this was his own suicidality coming forth, for how he was afraid of the future almost as much as she was. He hardly knew how to comfort himself, let alone her. But he had to comfort her. He had to give her some hope change was possible, that at least some options were worth it. Thinking of opportunities where she was too frozen and petrified to reach forward. But with every spark of hope came dozens of flashbacks, where her mother had denied her that hope. Sometimes she vocalized them; sometimes, like now, all she did was sob so hard he knew she had to be trembling. He wanted to hold her so desperately, but all he could do was support her through his yoroi.

Kourin reached out to Tenku, just for the anchor.

Alexa's breathing finally settled enough to speak. "What if I'm not good enough to make a career out of something I've done for so much of my life?"

"It might take some time," he responded. "It took me until my third dan examinations to really truly think I could make a career out of the sport I love. I took a degree in kinesiology to stay close to it, should I not be able to be an athlete. I only tried for the all-Japan kendo competition on a whim, and… I'm still not sure I'll be good at it."

That seemed to stop her in her tracks. "Your whole life is kendo."

He laughed softly. "It is. It's my family's life. I've been studying it since I could walk. And I'm terrified I won't make it as far as people expect me to, both while I'm in university or after. Ojisama is a living legend, my mother has titles, and even my sister is decorated. But I love it enough to try, and I love it enough to learn from my failures to come back better, next time." He took a breath. "It's like recovering from PTSD. I try some coping strategies, they fail, I try others, they work, then they stop working, and… it's constant adjustment."

She sniffed, Kure finally relaxing at hearing his story. Fully connecting back into him now that she knew somebody else shared her experience. "It feels like I only have one chance to change and if it doesn't work, my mom's right I'll never get anywhere."

"That's…" He hesitated, getting Tenku's approval before finishing. "More Rowen's story than mine. But from what he's told me, he's learned you can change and try multiple times and in the long term, it's alright. It hurts in the short term but it's not the end of the world. You can try even just a different job in the same industry and see if the environment works any better for you, and write on the side, or see where writing can take you now. That I can promise you."

She started crying again. "It feels like here's as good as it's going to get, for how unproductive I am."

Anger flared in his chest; he tried to keep it out of his voice. "That sounds like your mother."

"No! No, it's—" she scrambled for words, an eventual, quiet, "It's realistic."

He threaded a hand through his hair. "Putting you down to make you believe you can't leave isn't realistic, it's abuse."

She swallowed so hard he heard it. "What if he's right?"

"What if he's wrong?"

Silence. Sage only hoped he hadn't pushed too hard or too much. Kure's rolling emotions offered some hope that maybe what he had said had gotten in. She hadn't pulled away too far, either, hesitating in a sort of limbo Sage had grown to recognize from when information she had just heard contradicted what she had been told her whole life.

He tried to stem the voices he knew would be rising. "I'll still care for you and support you no matter your choice. But if he's speaking like that… I do hope you will consider changing employment sooner, rather than later."

"Alright." Before she could continue, loud purring filled the speaker, followed by her laughter. "I think Blackie's telling me to go to bed. And… considering it's two thirty, I really probably should."

Sage tipped his head back against the wall he was leaning against, propping one foot up. He hadn't even noticed the time passing, but the shadows had changed around him. "Rest. I'll talk to you again when I wake up tomorrow, or before bed if you wake up by then."

A smile made its way into her voice. "Thanks, Sage. Enjoy the rest of your day."

He smiled back. "Sleep well."

He hung up and exhaled, rubbing his face tiredly. She hadn't mentioned it, she hadn't said anything that was overtly a red flag, but feeling like a failure at whatever you did and feeling like failure was inevitable was one of the precursors for suicidal thoughts. The way Kure had felt didn't help his suspicion she had fallen back into that pit.

At least she had reached out, this time.

"Close call?" Rowen asked.

Sage shook his head. "Not enough she mentioned wanting to attempt, thank the gods. Just… scared of changing, which I understand perhaps too well. Scared that everyone who told her she was worthless was correct. That she couldn't change careers because there wasn't anything else she was good at. That she would fail at what she had been doing for so long. Which I… also understand perhaps too well."

"So do I, brother." Tenku wrapped Kourin in a blanket of space's cool peace, stars dotting the darkness. Doing the same for Sage what he had just done for Alexa. "Sharing our stories can only help her."

He laughed internally, darkly— he hadn't even noticed how glass-like Kourin had become. "And remind me, at least, of how insecure I still am about my choices, about how… in the end it's all the same voices that drove me to attempt, failing at something, not being worthy, and it hasn't died. The closer I get to the championship the more I feel I've made a mistake."

Tenku drew Kourin closer. "Just by qualifying you've lived up to the Date name. A student hasn't won in over forty years, so it's unreasonable to expect yourself to win. Even if you are a protege, simply moving beyond the qualifying rounds proves that."

He closed his eyes, seeing nothing but blackness behind them. "My response to that statement was, if I've proven myself with that, then I can drop out now."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

He had to express some appreciation for that, as much as he would have preferred a cigarette to interfering on Rowen's day. He had his coping strategies. But it was Rowen's call, not his, as much as he wanted to smoke just to self regulate. He knew he should meditate instead, he knew he should focus on the breathing skills he relied on in kendo, but it was moments like this where he wondered if he was addicted. He wanted nothing except to smoke. To be near fire so maybe he could relight his own.

Going to meet up with Rowen in a private part of campus and hugging his brother completely brushed that craving away.

"It's already faded," Sage murmured into Rowen's neck, only half telling the truth. "I…"

It was nearly impossible to express how flashes of darkness kept returning, how he sometimes felt like two different people. The confident Date heir and the young man who held a sword because it was the only thing he knew how to do. For all the others relied on him, for all they had given him reason upon reason why they felt justified relying on him, he still couldn't believe they could put their faith in someone who felt so at a loss for how to exist that he didn't know how he kept going, some days.

Alexa relied on him to show life could improve after a suicide attempt, and he still had so many moments he doubted if it was worth living. He could really only confidently say he had one moment to show for his recovery, just in Virginia. The rest of the time, he felt too much like the only reason he continued living was others' expectation, not any desire to build his own life.

Rowen rubbed his spine soothingly. "It's alright. We're all a bit shaken up right now."

Rowen rubbed his spine soothingly. "It's alright. We're all a bit shaken up right now."

Sage nodded, closing his eyes to soak up the affection. He gripped Rowen back to acknowledge how he had been in some pain, for how he and Tessa had decided to wait on a relationship until more time had passed. It hadn't helped Tessa was stressed and scared about her sister's attempt, relying on the guys' schedules to be there for Alexa late at night when she couldn't be. Rowen had understood, but still had moments of doubting if he had truly done the right thing with his confession.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked into his brother's neck.

The tension and tighter squeeze was all the answer Sage needed. After long moments, Rowen finally admitted, "N-not…not recently…"

He stroked Rowen's hair. "You can call any time if you need company."

The younger man swallowed, hands fisting in Sage's shirt. "I know…"

There was the sense of Rowen's own darkness behind those words, the deep shame they both felt for their vices. Shame Sage still felt so intensely for smoking he couldn't even bring it up to tell Rowen he understood.

Instead he stroked his friend's spine, Kourin radiating warmth. "I still love you."

They pulled back from each other, Rowen's hands staying on Sage's biceps. He took a deep breath and managed a small, lopsided smile. "No matter what the outcome, we have each other. It'll be alright."

Sage's return smile was weak but there. "It can be hard to remember that when I'll be up for scrutiny in public for the first time, the whole world of kendo watching."

Rowen squeezed his shoulders. "All that matters to me is you're alive."

Sage pulled him back into a hug. "Thank you for reminding me."

Connection. That's what made living so worthwhile. That's why he found the strength to hold on. So long as he had his brothers, the rest of the world was irrelevant. He could be safe here. He had been safe in their arms, in their homes, and now he could offer that safety to them, and to others. Building a life not with accomplishments, but with people.

They parted for real, Rowen rocketing back to Tokyo for his evening class. Sage watched him leave, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

He could survive this.

And maybe, with enough dedication, show them what he was really made of.