Masaki comes online at a young age - far too young, as a result of his mother's death.

At the time, he doesn't realize what happened, not really.

He's too focused on the blood, the pain, the loss of his mother.

The lights are suddenly too bright, taking over his vision until he's running, hiding in the dark.

Sounds are too loud. Whispers feel like screams, the rumble of cars, blaring of horns, slamming of doors and people yelling at each other are far too much. He's hearing things that should be impossible, the mice scattering sound in the neighboring building - down the street, the chatter of students from the highschool miles from his, the baying of dogs chasing yowling cats streets over.

Closing his eyes only makes it worse.

The feeling of his clothes, once soft and well worn now feel like sandpaper tearing apart his skin.

The overpowering smell of dirt, sweat and sewage clogs his nose and lungs, tar building up unseen.

Tastes explode through him in horrible waves, even plain rice was too much for his senses.

He didn't understand what was happening; didn't know what to do.

His father and Takeru naturally attributed his strange actions to grief, to guilt.

Masaki couldn't sleep, couldn't keep anything down and hid away in his room in the dark refusing to go out.

Eventually he was forced out, back into society and very slowly through trial and error, Masaki found ways to cope with the changes.

Most of them weren't healthy but he did what he could with what little he knew.

It was difficult.

Especially when the lights became too bright, when sound overtook everything, when a single pierce of rice took up front and center, when smells good and bad clouded over his mind and when he lost himself for minutes and hours in the feel of something silky cool or soft against his raw skin.

It was difficult learning this all on his own. He ended up spending a great deal of time in the surrounding libraries searching books and the internet for answers. Gradually he learned about the changes, and what they meant.

At first he denied it, the internet was full of lies, refusing to believe he was something else.

Something not entirely human.

Something.

And time after time when the symptoms and training methods proved true, he was forced to believe it.

He was on the cusp of acceptance when it happened. His dad brought a woman home to meet him and Aniki.

He's not sure how he missed it, the tell-tale signs of his father going out, spending time with a woman, perhaps even falling in love again. Yes he had been thoroughly distracted, busy with his world turning upside down in multiple ways but how could he have missed this much?

And then the woman stepped aside revealing a child - a boy younger than him and oh.

Things made sense now.

Masaki forced himself to smile and nod politely.

She would never replace his mom but if it meant his dad smiled more, laughed louder, then Masaki would bear with it.

Hiroto was not what he expected.

He was withdrawn, angry at the way things had turned out.

His dad pulled Masaki aside that night, practically pleading with him to accept Hiroto as his younger brother despite Hiroto's obvious hatred towards him. Masaki couldn't stand the plea in his father's voice, accepting it without fighting.

Masaki forced himself to accept Hiroto as his brother, his family.

Hiroto did not make things easy, throwing a fit left and right at the smallest of things. Masaki, unable to bear his new brother's furious screams during the day and torturous sobs at night, pulled away, never getting too close. He left most things that pertained to Hiroto to Takeru.

Though even that became difficult when Hitoto permanently moved into his room after their parents' small ceremony.

Masaki returned his focus to himself, having to relearn how to cope now that his safe space had been invaded. In his research, he found that focusing on one thing, a reference point, helped immensely. Originally, he'd been forced to pick several different ones, the cat down the street - more specifically it's steady heartbeat, for when he's at home, the smell of Takeru's hair gel at the otherwise gross smelling factory and the gentle hum of the light fixtures in school.

With Hiroto around, Masaki found it nearly impossible to focus on his reference points and thus far too easy to zone.

Unfortunately, his new brother was scarily observant, it wasn't long before his eyes followed Masaki as he moved through the house and eventually, when curiosity ate away at him enough, Hiroto started asking questions Masaki didn't have the answers for.

One day when Hiroto came home later than usual, everything changed.

Masaki didn't know what happened but he could easily tell his brother was furious, he smelled strongly of sweat and dirt and the almost everprescennt fainter underlying layers of smells from school and the streets.

But more than all of that, another scent clung to him. It was something strange, oddly metallic and common enough that he should easily recognize it.

He took a second breath, inhaling deeply and oh.

Blood.

The realization hit him like a truck and he went down.

Masaki fell fast and hard into the deepest zone he'd ever been in.

He didn't realize it at first, didn't recognize the feeling for what it was. That was one of the most difficult things about going through this on his own. He first has to recognize that he has zoned before he could pull himself out of it. Usually it's not too bad, realizing what happened and forcefully climbing out of the haze he falls into but this time was worse than anything he'd experienced before.

Blood was all he could smell. It clogged up his nostrils, filling his lungs. He was covered in it, lying in a pool of red as it climbed his body.

It poured into his mouth, choking him.

He tried to fight against it but it was all he could see, feel, taste, smell. It swarmed him, waves of red crushing him.

Off to his right a phantom screamed a loud, high pitched, terrifying scream.

His eardrums burst, blood from inside him now streaming out.

Red dripped down on him, from his eyes at first, tears of blood streaming down his face to drip into the pool beneath him. Soon it came from above and he was showered in a downpour of red.

The phantom danced ever closer, black edging his vision. He was drowning in blood, unable to hear, unable to breath, to think, unable to scream out for help. Then ever so softly he heard something.

That's impossible.

But it came again, soft and hazy off to his left - away from the phantom. Something in him urged Masaki forward.

He struggled, crawling through the blood towards the sound. It came again, a dull thump.

He crawled faster, now swimming through a river of red.

Thump.

He struggles faster, the blood clawing at him, tearing into him to keep him there.

Thump.

The river picks up, faster and fast it swirls trying to drag him under.

Thump.

A flash of red catches his eye moments before the wave hits.

He's pushed down.

Underneath the surface of the river, it's dark; a red so deep it borders on black. He struggles, kicking towards the surface.

He can't hear anything through the blood, no gentle thump, just the sounds of him fighting for his life.

Something grabs him from below, dragging him down even further, red overtaking everything as he slowly drowns.

The faint red glow fades around him, black taking over. He wakes to a gentle rocking sensation.


Thump.

He struggles to open his eyes; he's so tired, exhaustion finally catching up with him. He can't move his arms but cracks open one eye, peaking out into darkness.

Thump.

He jerks up, fully awake as he takes in his surroundings. Somehow he's still alive, floating on the surface of the river.

Thump.

The sound comes again, closer now, startlingly clear as if it's directly in front of him. He moves fast, forcing himself through the blood.

Thump.

Faster before it drags me under again.

Thump.

With one final push, Masaki dives out of the blood towards the sound.

Thump.

He follows it, rushing through the dark.

Thump.

Blood drips off of him leaving a trail of red in his wake.

Thump.

He breaks into a run, lunging towards the soothing sound even faster.

Thump.

It's louder now.

Thump.

Closer than it's ever been.

Thump.

From behind him comes another noise, the rushing of blood water.

Thump.

He doesn't turn back.

Thump.

He's close, so close.

Thump.

Behind him it starts to rain. Blood rain.

Thump.

Just a little more.

Thump.

Blood laps at his ankles, clawing at him.

Thump.

Almost there.

Thump.

Red pours over him, obscuring his vision.

Thump.

Masaki closes his eyes.

Thump.

Claws scrape against his back.

Thump.

Barely he makes it, plunging into the darkness, leaving the red behind.

Thump.

The phantom screeches, furious at his escape.

Thump.

Finally he breaks through.


Masaki's back, he can tell.

He can hear that thump mixing with a soft mumbling of words.

Can feel the warmth he's resting against. It surrounds him in a way that must mean he's lying on someone, held in their arms.

Slowly he inhales through his nose, scared of smelling metallic, ozone, blood.

Instead he finds cinnamon, sandalwood, sweat and dirt.

Hiroto.

He doesn't open his eyes, not yet. He sinks into his brother instead, not realizing how tense he was until he relaxes completely.

Thump.

The familiar sound lulles him into an even more relaxed state, his weight falling onto Hiroto completely.

Masaki knows his brother is scared, can feel it, how he worries for him despite his previous hatred.

He should get up, make an excuse, something but he can't bring himself to move.

He doesn't want to leave the comfort of Hiroto's arm, not yet.

He's been dealing with this for so long, alone.

He knows that this changes things.

Hiroto had already been asking more questions than Masaki could answer, there was no way he would just let this slip past now.

He'd have to tell Hiroto.

Masaki finds his mood has soured at the idea.

Of all the people he could have told, it had to be his new brother, who hates him.

Great.

Masaki resigns himself to his fate.

He will tell Hiroto.

Not everything, just enough to sate his curiosity.

And he'll force him to keep it a secret before he tells him anything.

For now he rests, he'd just had the deepest, most difficult, horrible zone of his life. He settles down, falling asleep to the gentle thumping of Hiroto's heartbeat.


Later he forces himself up and for the first time, lets someone in. He tells Hiroto his best kept secret and prays he won't regret it.

Afterwards, Hiroto doesn't leave him be, nudging his way into Masaki's world slowly until he's close.

Too close.

It's only when Masaki finds himself focusing on Hiroto's heartbeat to prevent him from zoning that he realizes it's too late.

Hiroto's wormed his way in and Masaki doesn't think he'd survive without him.