A/N: Short but bittersweet, Rokuda and Aika's relationship from an outsider's viewpoint.


Meanwhile, far away from the lights of the city, a certain duo was sitting at the riverside.

Aoi glanced over at Aika; though they didn't say anything, their mind was swirling with thoughts. They didn't dare snap her out of her peaceful state.

They counted themself lucky enough that she even bothered to invite them to sit with her. Even if she did look a little apprehensive to do so, they did appreciate the gesture and at this point, they'd take anything they could get.

"I wish I could confess my true feelings," they lamented to themself with a silent sigh as they looked away. "But… no, it's way too soon. She would never forgive me, would she?"

Briefly, a face flickered across their mind's eye, and their expression soured with distaste. A shy smile, gentle blue eyes, and a curtain of hair as green as the branches of a pine, along with that voice. That voice.

"I don't want any trouble, senpai," he had shakily uttered, palms raised in surrender. Sweat had beaded on his brow and his eyes flickered back and forth between Aoi and any possible exit, his body all but shrinking in on itself in a feeble attempt to appear weak and disarming. "I just wanna go lie down for a nap, okay?"

"But you wouldn't have done that, would you?" They thought bitterly, eyes narrowed. "No… had I not taken your place, you would be here right now. Going off doing who knows what with her. Had I not taken his place-"

They stopped, Aika's hand coming into view. They turned slightly to see her running her fingers through the cool water, a placid smile on her face.

Had they not taken his place…

Guilt bloomed in their chest as she looked to the sky, searching for the moon. Its silvery shine contrasted starkly with the sable shade of the skies, a spotlight to turn to for light.

Aika's painful stare came across their mind, hand clutching at the horizontal scar along her throat, along with her barely-there, wheezing voice: "Who- are- you? Wh- ere- is- he?"

They almost shuddered audibly from the haunting rasp repeating like a broken record. "I hate that I had to do that… but- but if I didn't…"

"Rokuda…" they closed their eyes in a grimace. "I could really use your advice right now. What would you say? What would you do?"

They recalled quite clearly the few times they'd caught him flirting with her. Or at least, his version of flirting. She was only a lady-in-waiting to the queen, so they hadn't given her much thought, but…

He could barely remember her full voice. What did she sound like? How did she sound while talking? Singing? Humming?

It must have been beautiful, if the queen's first decision was to take it away. Perhaps she thought she would die if she did so. One less traitor in the ranks, of course.

And yet… Rokuda never complained. He never said a word about the scar, never said a word about her. Yet every time they caught them together, he always had the most dopey look on his face, and Aika…

Their frown deepened. Aika… she was happy. So happy.

"And I took that away from her," they thought to themself miserably. "What I wouldn't give to be in your shoes right now, Rokuda… if only you hadn't died. If only you'd been the miserable, stubborn cockroach I thought you were."

Traitorously, their brain whispered, yet you are. You are in his shoes. You got the life he worked so hard for, all the while he's lying in a ditch somewhere.

Aoi's eyes squeezed shut, another pang of pain engulfing their chest.

"Don't you think I know that?" They snapped back silently, clasping their hands together over their heart. "Don't you think I regret what I did? I wish I hadn't snapped that night. I wish I'd have just let him go. I wish that I could have been brave enough to betray my commander and go with him."

"And now I ache for whom I can't have," they mourned. "I'll die before I can ever even try for the life I want. And… and it's all my fault. All because I was so damned envious of how he seemed to have everything I wanted. Because-"

They paused in their train of thought. The confession, though they tried not to think about it, made them open their eyes and stare up at the moon in contemplation. Their eyes narrowed, their lips pursed, their mind set on one phrase:

Because he was everything that I wasn't.