When Koichi woke the next morning, it was to sunlight and his brother's arm draped over his shoulder. As if even in sleep, Koji had felt compelled to protect his more vulnerable twin. Or at least try to protect him- try to shelter him from the cruel reality which lurked just beyond his closed eyelids. There was very little a limp arm could do against the forces of darkness which hunted Koichi and they both knew it. Still, the intention was clear. Well, clear enough to make him smile a little, even as he wormed his way to freedom. It was 5:30 in the morning, a full half-hour before the twins technically had to get up for school, but Koichi'd always been an early riser and felt eager to start the day. Considering the terror of a night he'd endured, this sentiment seemed justified. Besides, even after the nights she worked late, their mother was an early riser too and there was a lot of work that needed to be done before she saw one of her boys engaging in his morning rituals. The blood stains on his neck and pillow being of primary consideration…

Koji groaned, clearly distressed by the sudden absence of warmth by his side. But this wasn't the first time Koichi'd had to wiggle his way to freedom in the mornings and a well-placed pillow always made things right in the world. Despite their often frigid 'goodnights,' there had always been and always would be a gravitation between the twins that manifested itself one way or another. When the two slept side by side at their mothers, no matter how far apart they put the futons, Koichi inevitably woke up to a much closer Koji. Of course, he never mentioned it; the slightest idea of his body moving without his conscious consent would be devastating to Koji and Koichi, for his part, liked the closeness. It reminded him of a time, now long past, when they'd been inseparable. A time when simply being twins filled the void of their destinies' and there was no greater comfort than to know the other was nearby. Now Koji seemed more content to keep a prudent distance and Koichi… could find no fault in his reasoning. So he gave him his space during the day and found secret contentment in the warmth of sleep.

Not that long ago he would have been thrilled to find his brother's arm draped over his shoulder. He would have taken great comfort in the gesture, in knowing that no matter how tense things got during the waking hours, Koji still wanted to be near him. This simple gesture meant his brother cared, a fact not often apparent from his icy disposition. Such notions, sentimental as they may be, had always made him feel safe and under normal circumstances this would've been enough lighten Koichi's mood for the rest of the day. But these were not normal circumstances…

A stiff, blood-stained portion of his collar dislodged from his skin as he moved, pulling his thoughts away from the light like a weighted chain around his ankle. Such musings were pointless; there was no protection for him, not from walls or blankets or even his sentry twin. Now there was only prudence and vigilance and attention to detail. Silent as a shadow he moved to the bathroom, avoiding all the pitfalls of creaking floorboards and squeaking hinges. When the reality of the situation greeted him in the mirror, what few thoughts of happiness that remained fell from his mind, shattering like a crystal glass on the tile.

Koichi didn't usually get a warm, fuzzy feeling from his morning bed head, but he wasn't accustomed to recoiling from it either. The face reflected in the glass this morning was another story, pale and sickly and more a canvas for the dark streaks of dried blood than a face at all. His eyes were still a little blood-shot and the hemorrhage from his ears had formed rusted clots on his skin. It was not a pleasing visage and it was most certainly not one his mother ever needed to see. The urgency of the task made it easier to focus on the work rather than its origins, to wipe away the blood without worrying about where it came from. To ignore the undeniable fact that destroying the evidence in no way diminished the crime itself.

Duskmon was back and no matter what Koichi did, there was no hiding from him. There was no escaping him. And in a secret little corner of his heart, Koichi feared there was no stopping him.

Tomoko knew her children better than either of them cared to admit. She knew their favorite colors and scents and activities. She knew their favorite foods and the ones they ate just to be polite. She knew their humors and their stressors, the silent indicators of like and dislike. And she knew the tell tale ticks of their fibbing. Which was how, when her boys entered the kitchen at 6:30 AM, she knew something was so horribly wrong, they couldn't talk to her about it. But Koichi'd gotten his mild manners and passive perspective from somewhere and it most certainly wasn't his father. So instead of pushing the matter, as most intuitive parents think best, Tomoko just smiled at the storm clouds nestled in their blue-black hair and served them their rice and miso. They'd tell her what she needed to know, if she was patient.

"Good morning Koji," she greeted the younger twin first, reaching across to pull a loose hair from his shoulder affectionately. He responded with a rare grin tinged with guilt. "Koichi. Have you had a nice week?"

"Nice enough," Koji snorted disdainfully, attacking his rice in the morose ritual that indicated the week had been significantly less than nice.

"We had a history exam this past Monday," added Koichi quickly, lifting the miso bowl to his lips.

"What on," probed Tomoko, returning to the kitchen alcove to fetch tea.

"German unification."

"Who cares about the Germans anyway," grumbled Koji into his rice, scowling.

"I'd imagine the Germans do," she teased, finally taking a seat and starting her own breakfast. Koichi chuckled lightly as Koji shot him a disapproving look. This only caused the elder twin to chuckle more, but there was a hollow, forced note in his voice. Both were clearly distressed and the history test had next to nothing to do with it. Before she could inquire further, Koichi anticipated her move and picked up the mantle of conversation.

"What about you Mother? Is everything going well?"

"Well as can be expected," she sighed, giving one of her soft yet tortured smiles. It didn't go unnoticed and even Koji put down his rice and gave her an inquisitive look. "Really, you two, you're going to give yourselves grey hair with all your worrying. I'm fine. My weeks are just so uneventful before you get here that I don't think them worthy of comment."

"If you say so…" said Koji with a shrug. The conversation seemed unusually forced and Tomoko, glancing at the clock, decided to push the matter just a little.

"Have you made plans for after school," she asked ritualistically, knowing their usual answer but anticipating a deviation. There was a short silence, which proved her right.

"Actually…" started Koji, ever the bolder twin. "We need to meet some friends after school…"

"A study group," added Koichi quickly. He knew his mother trusted them and wouldn't have asked any more, but felt compelled to add conditions nonetheless. For when their father did.

"Alright," she said blithely, sipping her tea and smiling. "Just remember to be home at a reasonable hour; I'm making tsukiyaki."

"I'm sorry Mom," said Koji suddenly, setting down his finished breakfast with a clatter and giving her an intense look. Koichi looked startled and a little unnerved by the gesture, but Tomoko just smiled. Her younger son had always found it difficult to lie.

"Koji, there's no need," she breathed, reaching across the table to stroke his cheek. He melted under her touch, his gaze suddenly expressing how truly upset he was by the whole situation. She smiled back at him, her other hand finding the older twin's arm and patting it reassuringly. It broke Tomoko's heart to see him suffer- to see both her boys suffer like this. And it killed her a little to know there was next to nothing she could do to ease their pain. But both she and their father had exiled themselves from the twins' private world long ago and she'd come to terms with that.

"You two have always kept secrets from me, ever since you were too small to speak," she said gently, her eyes shifting from one navy gaze to the other. "You've lived in your own world with your own rules, and I understand there are things about that world I can never know. I understand… there are monsters I can't help you fight and adventures you need to have without me. Now, if you need some space or some time to yourselves, just say so. You're almost grown men, you don't need to justify yourselves to me or feel badly about it. Be mindful and be safe, that's all I ask."

Koji still looked a little guilty and Koichi… well, Koichi just looked stunned. Tomoko gave them one final smile, then withdrew, taking their empty breakfast plates to the sink.

"Now hurry and finish getting ready or you'll be late to school."