Koji's eyes flew open, the terror of the nightmare fresh in his blood even though he knew instantly that it had been just a dream. "Just" being a relative term. He didn't move, didn't even breathe for a long second, eyes sweeping the darkness. It was his room at their dad's, complete with desk, family photographs, and guitar. He was in bed, cocooned in blankets and tucked beneath pillows. His door was closed. No one was there… but the unease didn't go away. If anything the apparent safety of his current condition only intensified his concern. Something felt off; something was out of place, he just couldn't tell what it was.

Slowly the sense of panic faded and he decided that any threat was purely from his subconscious. That didn't comfort him much, as it had been an astoundingly disturbing dream and it worried him that such things were even in his psyche. The content in and of itself was bad enough, but the characters? His brother giving him an ice-pick lobotomy? What sorts of horrible things did that say about their situation? What sorts of horrible things did that say about how he perceived his brother…

It didn't matter. It was just a dream.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Koji threw off the blankets and pushed himself into the cold morning. Going back to sleep at that point was impossible; the adrenaline was pumping too fast and besides, it was 4:23AM. He had to be up soon anyway. "Soon" being a relative term. Typically he wasn't much of an early-riser, though this may've had more to do with the fact that his dad was than any natural tendencies. When he was younger, before Satomi, his dad used to focus that "early bird" mentality entirely on him, bursting in every morning a solid hour before Koji felt inclined to get up. Like clockwork… This improved dramatically after Dad started seeing Satomi and all but vanished after the wedding. Still, he was always down-stairs, waiting like a trap of conversation that Koji didn't want to deal with.

Nowadays Koichi joined their father in the mornings, but conversation was still rare. The two had trouble relating: Koichi to his very driven, hard father and Dad to his more sensitive son. It wasn't that the two disliked each other- at least, Koji didn't think they did. Despite Koichi's sentiments to the contrary, he actually had more of the traits most valued by their father. He was scholarly, reliably ranking above Koji in their class and scoring better on every exam. He was athletic, even though his wiry frame seemed to suggest otherwise. True, he wasn't involved in any school clubs, which was a point of contention, but he had his job and was a very fast learner. No, it wasn't a lack of appreciation that stayed conversation. Rather, the two just didn't know how to communicate. Dad didn't know what questions to ask and Koichi had no idea what sorts of answers to give. They'd tried for a couple of years. Then high school hit and both resigned themselves to the silence. So Dad's energy focused back primarily onto the son he'd raised, which was annoying to put it lightly. Even praise for Koichi often seemed to come as criticisms for Koji, which wasn't all bad because it made both twins equally uncomfortable. Nevertheless, it was something Koji didn't want to deal with, especially early in the morning.

Especially not this morning… He looked down at his unmade bed, shrugged in a rebellious fashion, and made his way over to his closet to get dressed. It was Thursday, a school day. The days were getting longer, hotter, and stickier, heralding their summer vacation and all its associated promises. Homework had already been assigned to keep them company during their "time off," cram school applications had been filled out and submitted, and this time next week Koji would be "free." A snort of disdainful humor slipped through his nose before he'd had a chance to stop it. What a load of crap. Even when the world wasn't in imminent danger from evil, calling those few weeks the school released them to do homework and more school in another facility a vacation seemed ludicrous. He selected the short-sleeved uniform, sighing. Factor in that imminent danger, and the fact that his brother hadn't said two words to him (excepting false displays for their parents' benefit) since Saturday and Koji really felt like there was nothing to be happy about.

Saturday… he didn't really want to think about Saturday, but no sooner had the word entered his mind all sorts of memories followed it, unbidden and unyielding to his preferences. Dorian had returned to the upstairs apartment some thirty minutes after his departure, all cold grins and assurances that Koichi was safe and sound on the third floor. He thought the reason the dark twin hadn't accompanied him back up was self-evident: Koichi didn't want to see them. Period. End of discussion. Why it had taken half an hour to descend several flights of stairs and ascertain the teen's whereabouts or what, if anything, the two had discussed, was left unsaid. Questions pertaining to his certainty in the manner were met with veiled hostility and suggestions that the other three go down and see for themselves. The latter was accompanied by a vague warning that churned in Koji's stomach even after the group decided the meeting was over. Dorian had then excused himself, or thrown them out depending on your perspective, saying there were some things he needed to handle and that he would call when he wanted them. This also worried Koji, but the prospect of several Dorian-free days was too good to pass up.

They found Koichi exactly where Dorian said he would be, curled against the wall on the third floor landing. He was sitting across from a pile of reeking vomit, knees pulled up to his chest, fists covering his eyes. It quickly became apparent that his little stint with the lights had taken a rather severe toll on his body, and that he had no intention of discussing it even if he'd had the energy. Actually, he had no intention of discussing anything. When he heard them pause over him, he'd pulled himself to his feet, but refused to make eye contact. Izumi's rage seemed to dissipate upon viewing his sorry state and she'd asked how he was.

"I'm fine."

He hadn't said anything to any of them since. Koji, for his part, was more annoyed than hurt by the dramatics. Near as he could tell, Koichi felt he was owed an apology and was playing juvenile games until he got it. Koji was not wrong and would not apologize for being in the morally superior position. If that made the game… or the babysitting, more awkward then so be it. Protecting his brother didn't require direct interaction, so the arrangement actually suited Koji just fine. Izumi and Takuya, however, were less grounded in their principles of self-respect. They wanted to talk to him, which Koji knew was pointless, and had been trying for three days now. Koichi worked Monday-Friday evenings at the Western-style coffee shop a couple blocks from their dad's house (made possible in no small part by their dad's friends among the local business owners) and couldn't miss work. So at least one of them had had to skip after school activities to keep an eye on the joint instead. On-the-job isn't a conducive time to be chatting anyway, so when one factored in Koichi's stubborn rejection it was understandable that no one had had any success in getting through to him. Today it was Koji's turn. He was going to have to miss kendo…

Creek

Koji started, swearing under his breath and turning sharply to locate the sound. It was faint, yet deafening in the early stillness. As his eyes skimmed the room the noise came again, a little more subtle this time but still loud enough for him to pinpoint the origin. It was coming from the other side of the wall- from Koichi's room. His first response was a fresh wave of panic. Aloof apathy thrown to the winds, he left the collar of his shirt unbuttoned and strode quickly to the door, opening it with practiced stealth and side stepping to the neighboring room. Then his fingertips brushed the doorknob and another thought crossed his mind. Blood drops rolling down the pale skin of his brother's neck. Black liquid in a crystal glass. Soulless eyes. What was he going to find in there?

Before he'd had a chance to debate this with any sort of rationality the door opened on its own. Well, maybe not quite on its own, but Koji jumped nonetheless. His twin's soft, navy gaze stared out at him from across the threshold, close enough to touch and yet so infinitely far away. His lips were dry and his eyes puckered, rimmed in red as if from a lack of sleep. Dark, bruise-like bags under those eyes seemed to confirm this assumption and his skin looked clammy. Overall he appeared exhausted and the grey light of dawn was doing nothing for him.

"You're up," Koji stated, instantly regretting it. Obviously Koichi was up, he was staring at him like he was a crazy person. The older twin blinked slowly but made no other indication that he'd heard. Not knowing what else to do, Koji decided to continue morning pleasantries then excuse himself tastefully. "How'd you sleep?"

Koichi blinked again. His hand was still resting on the door handle and, for a moment, Koji thought he was just going to close it back in his face. Instead, he licked his lips, clearly struggling with the answer. Koji wasn't sure how that was possible, since it wasn't a really complicated question. Then he spoke:

"You dream loudly."

Koji's mouth went dry with fear at the exact same moment his gut inflamed with anger. He grabbed the wooden edge of the door, forcing it further open as he leaned in.

"Excuse me for having nightmares," he hissed quietly. "Not that that's any of your business."

This was the part where Koichi sighed in exasperation and explained, once again, that he couldn't control his ability. Apologized because he couldn't help but experience Koji's most emotionally enflamed moments. That's how it worked- had always worked for the past five years. But not this time. This time Koichi didn't even break eye contact. He held his brother's accusatory gaze for a long moment- for what felt like minutes. Then he just turned and went back to his bed, sitting down on the edge and looking out the window. It was unclear whether or not Koji was supposed to follow, or if he even wanted to.

"That's it," he asked from the doorway. He'd meant it to sound threatening, like he was picking a fight, but it came out much more concerned. Koichi leaned his head against the glass, his silhouette looking horribly fatalistic, and Koji suddenly understood what was out of place. What had been out of place all week. Now, alone with his twin in the silent dawn, it became painfully obvious: Koji couldn't feel a thing from Koichi. He'd been shut out from his brother's mind, cut off by his twin's self-imposed isolation. Yes, Koichi was in the same room, even involved in the same poor-excuse of a conversation, but it was like looking at a ghost. There was no empathic connection, no twin-ESP like in the Digital World, not even the body language cues picked up by close friends. Like a stranger… That hurt; a nameless sorrow welled up in his throat as he took a shaky breath.

"Nii-san…" Koji tried again, this time gentler, maybe even pleading. "Come on. This isn't okay."

"What do you want from me?" Koichi's response was firm and cool, with neither a trace of familiarity nor animosity. He turned to look at his brother with cryptic eyes. "Do you want me to apologize? Okay, I'm sorry. Do you want me to admit I was wrong? Fine, I was wrong. And you were right, I shouldn't want to keep anything from our friends and I shouldn't have asked you to either."

Koji was, in a word, shocked. The only force he'd ever encountered that could rival him in unapologetic stubbornness was his brother's. That he would so easily admit to wrongdoing was unprecedented and, if he was being honest, unsettling. It meant he was seriously, very upset. Koichi returned his gaze to the rising sun, letting out a small, disparaging sigh.

"It doesn't change anything. It doesn't matter if I'm sorry or not."

"It matters to me."

"Please," the older twin said with a short, mirthless snort. "Don't patronize me. Koji, in your nightmares I kill you. And it's not a new thing, you've been having these dreams since we got back from the Digital World. Normal people dream about exams or zombies or whatever, but not you. You're afraid of me and no matter how many times I apologize I can't change that."

"Just what is that supposed to mean!" Indignant, exposed anger flared up again, singeing his fraternal compassion. Again with the dream invasion! Koji had to struggle to keep his voice down, since he didn't want their dad coming in to investigate. His fingers were threatening to ball into fists and, although he couldn't quite justify hitting his brother, a part of him kind of wanted to.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Well tough!" Koichi gave him an incomprehensible look, the brightening sky throwing his features into shadow. He looked… resigned. As if he'd just given something important up and now sat, waiting for judgment. That face… it got him every time, tweaking some primal bond, forcing compassion back to the surface of his turbulent mind. Koji let out a sigh of frustration, wishing he could maintain his anger. It was easier to be angry than confused and hurt. "What the hell did Dorian say to you anyway?"

"It's not just what Dorian said-"

"Then what is it? Look, I don't want to talk about feelings anymore than you do, but this-" he made a wide gesture in Koichi's general direction. "This isolation thing, it's not healthy. I know; I've been there. It doesn't make you stronger or more prepared. If anything it makes you easier to exploit and I know that isn't what you want. So if you don't wanna talk to me that's fine, I get it. But talk to Takuya or Izumi or anyone. Just cut the silent-treatment crap."

Koichi stood up, back to the sunlight, face obscured by shadow. His shoulders were tense, breath controlled but uneven. For the first time in days Koji saw his words take effect- saw something roll off his brother, causing a wave of relief to spread through him. Koichi was angry and Koji could tell, could read it in his frame even without their empathic contact. Good. At least anger was something. At least anger was active.

"Cut the crap," he repeated incredulously. "Really? You would say that to me?"

"How do you figure?" Koji's tone was borderline sarcastic, though genuinely uncertain, which only served to further aggravate his twin.

"Did it occur to anyone that maybe I haven't been talking to any of you because I already know what you're going to say and I don't want to hear it? 'It's not your fault Koichi.' 'You weren't in control.' 'You aren't Duskmon anymore and you're not responsible for the things Tache has done.' That is crap. Dorian may be horrible, but at least he's honest with me! You three, on the other hand, are all words of encouragement to my face, but I can't even go to the bathroom without one of you following me!"

"That's-"

"For my protection. Yeah I know." The tightness in Koichi's shoulders had increased dramatically as the tenor of his voice became lower, more threatening. For a brief moment Koji even thought he might try hitting him, but then he just turned back to the light. His face softened as he looked out the window, sighing with released frustration.

"I know… And the worst part is, I know you're all just trying to help. I know that Tache is out there, waiting for me, planning how he's going to get me on my own and I know you don't trust me to resist him. I know that on some level, you're all afraid of me, of what I'll become once Tache gets back inside of me. You should be afraid. You shouldn't trust me. It would be easier for all of us if you all just stayed out of it, just uninvolved yourselves and let Dorian handle it. But that's not going to happen, so there's nothing to talk about."

A moment of unclear silence passed between the two brothers. Koichi stared out at the rising sun, bathed in its light yet somehow insulated from it. Koji stood in the shadows, like a second sun at his back, his stare hotter and infinitely more intense. Neither moved. Neither spoke. Seconds ticked by with tangible jerks of a clock hand, until finally Koji couldn't take it anymore.

"You said you were sorry," he said slowly, his voice low and deliberate. "That you were wrong to want to keep things from us. If that's true- if any of that was true, then don't keep things from us now. Talk to me, please. Tell me what's going on with you."

Koichi didn't blink or respond in any way. He just continued to look out the window, as if he hadn't heard Koji or had forgotten his twin was in the room altogether. The anger was gone, receded into the cold apathy his twin had been wearing all week. It was as if he hadn't said anything at all, as if the conversation had never happened. Koji had reached out and Koichi pulled away from the contact, just like he always did when something really bad was about to happen. He remembered this feeling- this helplessness in the face of the dark twin's resolve. He hated this feeling, like his heart was being compressed inside his chest and his ribcage was going to implode from the sudden lack of volume.

"I need to get ready for school," Koichi said absently. Koji couldn't tell if the words were for him or if his brother was just thinking out loud. What Koji did know was that his brother was closing himself off, stubbornly refusing help as usual, and there was nothing Koji could do about it. All his anger slipped away, boiling down to the feeling Koji had been trying to deny since this all began: despair. Something was coming for them and Koichi was going to try and fight it on his own. And he was going to loose…