No Other Name
Everyone is born with a soulmate. Upon hitting puberty, your soulmate's name appears on your body somewhere. Sento blinked awake in the rain, twenty-five, with no soul mark. But that's fine. He's got Smash to fight and a world to save and the best partner in Banjou. So what if Banjou's soul mark isn't Sento's name? And anyway, if Sento had a soulmate, what name would they wear? Kiryuu Sento doesn't exist.
...
…
Everyone had a soulmate. Whether that soulmate was platonic or romantic, everyone had one. That one person that would understand them better than anyone else, who would know them and love them no matter what.
There were only two exceptions. Anyone who was present at the Sky Wall Disaster had their soul marks erased when their personalities were altered by Pandora's Box.
The other exception was Kiryuu Sento.
At first, recovering from whatever had left him with amnesia and struggling with nightmares of green tanks and men in bat armor, Sento had not realized there was anything different about him. After all, Misora and Owner didn't have visible soul marks either, and what was out of sight was out of mind. Then came his first fight with a Smash.
When Sento returned to Nascita from that fight, Owner smiled and said, "Welcome home."
Then Misora carted him off to the bathroom to bandage his injuries. Off came Sento's shoes, socks, and pants while Misora insisted on cleaning and wrapping the few scrapes that had made it through his jeans. Off came his shirt and scarf as she tended to those cuts and bruises on his chest, arms, back, and face. Part of Sento considered the fact that a girl who was not family was seeing him so exposed, but another part insisted that she was his sister. For all that it mattered, Misora was family.
Suddenly, Misora's fingers stopped applying ointment. She recoiled sharply enough to catch Sento's drifting attention from where he had already been planning how to improve the Rider system. He glanced over his shoulder at her curiously.
"Misora?"
"Sento," she breathed out, her expression part confused and part sad. "There's no name."
He frowned. "Huh? Name?"
"Your soulmate," Misora clarified, holding her hands close to her chest. "You don't have a name anywhere."
They looked up pictures of the people who had been at the Sky Wall Disaster – those that had died and those that had not – but none of them had Sento's face. His lack of soul mark was not because he was present at the ceremony. He simply…didn't have a soulmate.
"Hm," Sento mused, his voice flat. "So now I'm a lost physicist with no memories…and no soulmate."
Misora immediately began to cry, and both she and Owner wrapped their arms around Sento in a hug. Sento just kept looking at the pictures of those who had died, still staring back at him from the computer screen. He wished he could say he felt like crying, that he was sad. But it was as if Misora and Owner had taken those emotions on for him so he didn't have to feel them. Instead he just felt…empty.
He didn't have a place in this world. And no one would ever truly understand him, not at his deepest level. Not all of him.
Sento didn't sleep that night.
…
…
In the morning, Owner made him terrible, awful coffee and Misora brought him toast at the counter. They tiptoed around the café, talking in quiet voices. It was like someone had died. Sento hated it.
Swallowing his toast, he said, "I think I know what it is."
"What what is?" Misora asked, her finger poised to start the toaster again.
Giving a carefree smile, Sento continued, "Why I don't have a soul mark." He shrugged as if his lack meant nothing. "It's because I'm not old enough yet."
Both Isurugi's narrowed their eyes at him, confused.
"Hey, Sento," Owner said, trying for a teasing tone. He pointed at Sento. "You may have a baby face, but anyone can see you're not that young. We agreed that you're probably twenty-six, remember?"
Sento's smile turned a little bitter, but he still huffed a laugh. "The person I used to be is," he argued, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm only a few weeks old."
He said it in such a pompous, assured way that Misora snorted. Then, shocked by herself and under the gaze of both her father and Sento, she began to giggle. "Sento's still a baby," she managed.
As both Isurugi's laughed and the air in Nascita grew light again, Sento's smile became more genuine. Perhaps it was true that this person he was now wasn't old enough to have developed a soul mark yet, perhaps not. More likely, he had never had one and never would. But the falsehood had made his found family smile again and that was what was most important to Sento: their happiness, rather than his own.
…
…
It was okay to not have a soulmate. Sento wasn't less because of it, certainly. But it did lend itself to how he defined the person he wanted to be.
He hoped that his previous self had been accepting of others, that he had helped people whenever possible, that he was a good person. He hoped that his old self would have run into a fight to defend those too weak to defend themselves. He hoped that not having a soulmate only made him kinder, not bitter.
So that's who he became.
He was a genius, a polymath, the best in the world. And his hopes and dreams and desires transformed him into a superhero.
…
…
"Who the hell are you?" Banjou Ryuuga demanded after Sento forcibly crashed his bike.
Giving a bored sort of sigh, Sento stepped off his own bike. "Oh, I'm just here to bring in a murderer. Namely, you," he said, pointing at the auburn haired man.
"I'm not a murderer!"
Meeting Banjou was…an experience. Here was the first time that anyone possibly connected to Sento's missing memories had appeared. Someone who had also experienced being experimented on by strange people in gas masks. He wasn't about to let a Smash take him and disappear!
Banjou threw punches first and asked questions later. It should have made his guilt as a murderer more likely, but there was something about him – something desperate in the way he moved, something frightened in his eyes, just…something…
"You've got to believe me!" Banjou cried, grabbing Build by the shoulders.
And Sento did. Despite having no evidence of Banjou's innocence, no way of knowing if he really had been experimented on or if he was lying. He believed him.
"I might be stupid as hell, and a piece of trash…but I would never kill someone," Banjou whispered, self-flagellation heavy in his voice, as the police closed in on them.
"Oh," Sento sighed. "I'm definitely going to regret this day." He transformed his cell phone into his bike once more and pat the back of it. "Come on. Let's go."
And just like that, Sento became a fugitive to save a man he had only just met. And yet something in him, completely illogically, knew it was the right thing to do.
…
…
It was purely by accident that Sento saw Banjou's soul mark. They'd gotten back to Nascita and Banjou obviously couldn't stay in his experiment clothes. There was an entire crate of clothes that Owner had grabbed for Sento over the last year – most of it in styles Sento would never wear. Since he and Banjou were more-or-less similar in size, most of it would fit him too.
Banjou didn't leave the room to disrobe, like most people would have. He just turned his back and pulled his shirt off. And there, across Banjou's right shoulder blade, a name.
Ogura Kasumi
Ah, Sento thought, his heart giving a small pang. Of course.
Wait, why was he sad? Maybe…It was the first time Sento had ever seen someone else's soul mark. Misora's was lost under the gold bangle on her wrist. Just the bare edges of the name were visible – not nearly enough to read or identify the person's name. And Owner had acted like a blushing, wronged virgin when Sento had asked to see his.
Here was proof that other people definitely had soul marks. Proof that Sento was different. That there was more wrong with him than simply faulty memory.
…
…
He wasn't sad anymore once Banjou ran off to try and save Kasumi alone! Idiot!
It was strange. Sento had dedicated his life to helping others, and of course he wanted to help Kasumi. But more than that, he wanted to help Banjou. Kasumi was his soulmate, and her being in danger clearly upset him. And then, learning that there was nothing they could do…that Kasumi would die no matter what…
Again Sento's heart ached. He touched the Build armor over his heart and breathed, in, out.
He did what he could for Banjou and Kasumi. He held off the Smash energy so they could say their goodbyes. Once Kasumi was gone, Banjou broke down. The cops were on their way but Banjou wouldn't get up. If he didn't move, he'd be arrested again, become an experiment again.
"It's fine," Banjou cried. "It doesn't matter anymore."
Sento grabbed him by the shirt. "What's fine about this?!" he shouted, and he didn't even know why he was so upset, only that he was.
He talked about clearing Banjou's name, and living for Kasumi, and somehow he got Banjou up and on his bike again. Only once they were back in the lab under Nascita did he let Banjou be. Banjou sat under the stairs, arms wrapped around his legs, and cried. Sento sat at the top of the stairs, a silent guard, keeping the fridge door shut until he was done.
…
…
They found Nabeshima, the guard who drugged Banjou so Faust could capture and experiment on him. But by the time they saved him from being a Smash, his memories had been erased. He couldn't help them clear Banjou's name, or find Faust, or anything.
What upset Banjou the most, though, was that Nabeshima didn't remember his own daughter.
That knowledge struck a chord in Sento. Banjou wasn't just a pair of fists, or an idiot, didn't only care about clearing his name. He cared about people. He cared more about them than himself.
Whatever rough outside he presented, Banjou Ryuuga was a good person.
…
…
Banjou brought a lot of life to Sento's world. Nascita had been nice before, but the only entertainment was when Misora pretended to be cute as Miitan and when Sento got excited because an experiment went well. But Banjou was loud and full of energy and got bored easily.
He demanded they buy board games or card games and play to keep him busy, and somehow Sento always gave in to playing with him for hours even though he had inventions and research to work on–both for Build and for his actual job. Any game that required strategy went to Sento, and ended with Banjou throwing his cards down and pouting like a child while Sento preened like a swan. Any game of luck inevitably went to Banjou.
"That makes no sense," Sento mused after he'd lost eight games of luck in a row. "Even basic statistics says I should be winning at least a few times."
"Don't be jealous just because I'm so much better than you," Banjou bragged, a huge smile stretching across his face.
It should have been infuriating to Sento's pride, having Banjou rub the victories in his face, but instead Sento just shook his head and collected the cards. "Again."
When Owner bought him a punching bag, the sound of his fists became background noise as Sento typed away on his computer. Sento had always preferred silence, or the quiet hum of computers, but within days the sound of that punching bag was as calming as any processor.
The first time Owner made Banjou coffee, he had spit it out, forcefully, all over Owner himself. Afterward, he tried to play it off. "It-It-It was—It was really—uh—hot!"
Sento found himself smiling at the lie, fondness creeping over him.
…
…
That didn't mean he and Banjou didn't argue, because they did. Boy did they. And Banjou was fists first, questions later, so often times their arguments ended with at least one punch to the gut.
But Banjou also reminded Sento what they were fighting for when Sento became overwhelmed. When the walls felt like they were closing in, Banjou broke them down. It was uncanny how Banjou always seemed to know what Sento needed to hear when he needed it most. Though they had only known each other for a short period of time, Banjou could read Sento like a book.
Probably better than he could read a book, actually. Banjou had a terrible attention span for the written word.
It was like—Like a soulmate.
Sento checked his body in the mirror after bathing one day, every inch he could bring into view. No name marked his skin. No calligraphy painted fate on his body.
"What did I expect?" he asked with a depreciating smile, setting the mirror down. "He already had a soulmate and it wasn't me."
And even if Kasumi hadn't been Banjou's soulmate, Sento was twenty-six. If a mark was going to appear on his skin, he would've had it by now. No matter how much he was growing to care for Banjou Ryuuga, no matter how close they might become, they weren't soulmates.
Sento wasn't anyone's soulmate.
"I don't even know what name someone would wear if I had one," he said to himself. "Kiryuu Sento doesn't exist."
…
…
"I only needed you to get Misora to purify the bottles," Blood Stalk tells him. "Do you understand? You were only cast in the role of superhero for that reason. It was an illusion. Not real. You were playing at being a Kamen Rider."
Something inside of Sento broke, and he wasn't sure it could ever be fixed.
Everything about him is a lie. He has no memories, and every memory he does have has been twisted and manipulated by this man to meet his own ends. Sento thought he was fighting for good, for peace. He thought of the Isurugi's as his family, Nascita as his home. But now…Now he and Banjou had been beaten, all the truths laid bare. Both of them pawns in Blood Stalk's game.
He and Banjou. Fighting together.
"You said if it was a choice between your memories or helping people as Build, it was simple. You'd always choose Build!"
"This is terrible," Sento muttered. "To think you made such a fool of me. But…"
He pushed himself off the ground, saw Banjou off to the side. Yes. Everything he and Banjou had been through might have been orchestrated by Owner, but that didn't mean it wasn't real.
"The things we believed in were not an illusion," Sento said, narrowing his eyes at Blood Stalk. "Me and him," he nodded toward Banjou, "We've been fighting to help people. To protect others, we've stood our ground again and again. Even without you, there are things I have to protect. And for the justice I believe in, I'm going to defeat you!"
The transformation into RabbitTank Sparkling fizzed like a carbonated beverage all over his body. It tickled, especially over his chest. Luckily, the mask on his face hid the momentary grin he couldn't help making at the feeling. Laughing after such a speech would ruin the entire mood.
…
…
The mood was ruined anyway. Sento had always known that Kiryuu Sento was not real. He knew Kiryuu Sento was a made up name, a made up person, a filler for the man Sento used to be.
He just didn't think 'the man he used to be' would be Katsuragi Takumi.
No wonder he didn't have a soul mark, he thought as he mindlessly soldered technical components together. He was the one who had forsaken humanity to run tests on the Nebula Gas, who had turned countless people into Smash, who founded Faust.
Who killed Ogura Kasumi.
Forget being Banjou's soulmate. He'd be lucky if Banjou ever considered them friends again.
"How can you just sit there?!" Banjou shouted, throwing Sento's work to the floor. "You're the damn Devil's Scientist!"
He was. Even if he couldn't remember it.
"You…killed Kasumi."
He did. His experiments led to her death. If it weren't for him, Banjou's soulmate would still be alive.
"You did experiments on all those people!"
More than Owner's betrayal, telling Sento he was only playing at being a hero…This sent the blow straight to his heart. He really had only been playing, when in reality…he was the villain.
Banjou grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to look him in the eyes, but Sento couldn't face him and kept his head turned away. "Don't just sit there! Say something!"
Tone quiet, defeated, Sento asked, "What do you want me to do?"
What would make up for everything he had done before losing his memories?
Banjou insisted on a fight. Hand-to-hand. Sento didn't know how that could possibly make anything better, but he agreed. If it would help Banjou feel better, he'd do anything. However, after the fight, Banjou only seemed more frustrated and lost.
And then Sento couldn't fight the Smash. He had caused their pain, caused them to become Smash. What right did he have to hurt them again?
"You didn't just create the Smash!" Banjou shouted, jumping in to save him. "You also strapped on that belt and protected peoples' tomorrows! Their futures and their hopes! You're responsible for that too!"
Banjou Ryuuga was a self-declared idiot. His IQ was league's below Sento's own. He was fight first, think later. And yet, somehow, he knew the exact words to unlock Sento's heart.
"You fight because you want to help people! You rose up to protect them! Katsuragi Takumi and Satou Taro wouldn't have done that! Only Kiryuu Sento did!"
It was like Banjou made him real. Took this false persona created out of barber shops and a portmanteau and gave it meaning. Banjou brought Sento to life.
How could anyone know Sento—know what Sento needed, even when he himself didn't know—better than Banjou? Sure, they did not wear each other's names on their body's, but Sento could not think of a better soulmate. And when this battle was over? He was going to say as much to his partner.
"Now, shall we begin the experiment?" he said, voice brighter than it had been in days. And then he transformed.
…
…
War puts off lots of things.
…
…
"Banjou's going to Hokuto to fight for you," Misora told him. "He said he wanted to end the war as fast as possible, so that you could smile again."
Heat burned in Sento's chest, behind his eyes. What kind of stupid—Of course Banjou would do that. Of course he would, using a tool that would damage him at that, and without even telling Sento about it. Then again, how many times had Sento done something simply because it would make Banjou happier, without telling Banjou what he was doing? It seemed they had that in common.
"He doesn't need to do that." Sento shook his head. "Why would he do that?"
Misora looked at him with an expression torn between pity and incredulity. "Because he cares about you, Sento." She nervously rubbed her hands together. "I—I think…He might be—I think Banjou is your—"
Sento shook his head again, raising a hand to cut her off. "You know as well as I do that that's not possible." The thought made Misora frown but Sento continued. "His soulmate was Ogura Kasumi. Not Katsuragi Takumi."
Without waiting for her to answer, Sento started gathering up his belt and bottles—as well as the Hazard Trigger. He didn't want to use it, but if he had to—if it would help Banjou…
"You're leaving?" Misora asked.
A nod. "I'll stop him," Sento said. "Before anything bad happens with the Sclash Driver."
…
…
The Hazard Trigger erased everything Sento was. Turned him into a relentless machine. One moment, Sento was helping defend Banjou from the Hard Smashes…the next, he was watching one of them die.
"Did I do this?" he asked, heart racing, and turned to Banjou for an answer.
Banjou was on the ground beside him, battle worn, a look of shock and burgeoning horror on his face. It was all Sento needed to know. The hateful calls of the other Hokuto Hard Smashes only made it worse.
Sento had—He'd killed someone. Someone who had a soulmate. Someone who had a family. Someone who had fought for their country, for their friends. Someone who deserved to live.
Somehow, he ended up back at Nascita, in his lab, staring at the collection of bottles on the table. The Build System. Had he created it to be a weapon? Or to fight for justice? He had fought to bring about a world of love and peace. That was his dream. A world where no one became a Smash, where the Sky Wall didn't hurt people, where Pandora's Box could not erase anyone's soul mark ever again.
He was a murderer.
Not a hero.
A killer.
Sento placed his hands on the table's edge, fingers curling underneath. Slowly, he lifted, watching in empty fascination as the table tipped. Further. Further. One by one, the bottles clacked and clanged to the floor. Rabbit. Panda. Gattling. Vacuum. Hawk. Fire Engine. All of them. The table followed, landing with an awful crash that echoed horribly in the metal lined room.
Within moments, the fridge opened upstairs and Misora, Sawa, and Banjou rushed down, shouting for him and asking if he was okay. They stopped in the doorway, observing the mess. Sento turned away from the lab and walked slowly toward the bedroom.
"Sento?" Misora asked as he neared them.
Sento gave a single shake of his head. "Do me a favor?" he asked, his voice rough like he'd been gargling rocks. He couldn't even look at his friends in the eyes. "Give those to Prime Minister Himuro."
"What?" Sawa gasped.
"But you're Build!" Banjou shouted. "You need them!"
Sento squeezed his eyes shut. Just the thought of transforming again hurt like a Vortech Finish to the chest. Except that would likely kill him, and there he was…still alive. While Aoba was—
Grabbing his hair, Sento sank to his knees by the nightstand. When he managed to speak, his voice came out in a pitiful wheeze. "I can't."
…
…
Someone managed to give him a bath. Not a proper one, but they cleaned the mess from his exposed skin, changed his clothes. They even washed his hair. Somewhere in the back of Sento's mind, he recognized that the hands were far too masculine to be Sawa's or Misora's, so the one to care for him must have been Banjou.
Banjou's care was painful. He was so gentle with Sento, understanding how fragile he felt at the moment. And he had always known Sento, even when they first met. He got how Sento's mind worked, even if he didn't understand any of the science or math Sento spouted. Sento wished half of what he said had the same inspiring effect on Banjou as Banjou's speeches had on him.
The way Banjou quietly washed the dirt from his arms and bandaged the tiny cuts from the asphalt—The intensity in his eyes as he focused on his task—Banjou cared about him. Perhaps not the way he had cared for Kasumi, but maybe, once, he and Banjou could have been something.
How arrogant had he been, to assume that someone like him was worthy of someone like Banjou Ryuuga? To think he could replace Banjou's soulmate?
Banjou had been arrested on murder charges, but he would never hurt someone that way. He would never kill another human being. No, only Sento would do that. Whether he was Katsuragi Takumi or Kiryuu Sento…He was a murderer.
"You gotta eat, man," Banjou's voice came to him.
Sento had never had less of an appetite. But the way Banjou said that…How long had it been since he ate? How long since Aoba died? He'd lost track.
Kneeling before him, Banjou roughly tousled his own hair. "This wasn't supposed to happen," he grumbled to himself. "I was only trying to help."
He was always trying to help, even if his attempts were misguided or stupid. That was one of the things Sento loved about him. Tears gathered in Sento's eyes, already sore from previous crying.
"I wish—"
Banjou's head snapped up at the sound of Sento's quiet voice. "Sento?" he let out, hopefully.
Sento managed to lift his arm, though it felt like it weighed a million pounds, and grabbed Banjou's right arm. "If I could bring her back…to you. I wish—" The tears slipped down his cheeks. "I only hurt people."
Banjou's face screwed up and he lunged forward, dislodging Sento's weak grip, to grab the sides of Sento's face. He forced Sento to look at him, though he was blurry through Sento's tears.
"Shut up!" Banjou shouted, and it sounded like he might cry too.
Great. Now Sento had made Banjou sad too. So much for hero.
"Stop saying things like that!" Banjou continued. "You're supposed to be the smart one! You're the hero, remember? You protect people!"
Heroes didn't murder people. Somehow, Sento didn't have the strength to speak again, but he managed to turn his head out of Banjou's grip to stare at the brick wall instead.
"Sento." Banjou was definitely crying now. "I'm so sorry."
And then he was gone, back up the stairs, leaving Sento alone. Like he deserved to be. Because he didn't deserve an apology. He didn't deserve a soul mark. He didn't deserve to be a hero.
Heroes didn't kill people.
…
…
Thanks in part to Kazumi—to Kamen Rider Grease—and even Blood Stalk, Sento found the will to fight to end the war. One battle. Just one battle, and the war would be over.
It wasn't a will to live. He still felt hollowed out and empty, but there was an end in sight.
If he could win the proxy battle and end the war…everyone else could live happily. No matter what happened to him. Banjou could go back to being a pro-fighter. Misora could finally go outside. Sawa could cover any news story she wanted and never have to report on another battle. They would get their lives back.
"Why are you doing the proxy battle? It was supposed to be me!" Banjou yelled.
"You can't win," Sento countered easily, as if he didn't feel one wrong move from shattering. "You're afraid of the Sclash Driver."
"You're the same with the Hazard Trigger," Banjou shot back.
"So I won't use it," Sento lied. Even with all the training he had done, it was likely he would need the Hazard Trigger.
Banjou smacked the café countertop, his face screwing up with emotion. "You didn't even consider that I…" Without finishing, he grabbed his jacket and marched out the door.
Sento pretended to prepare a cup of coffee so he didn't have to look at the closed door or at Misora. She stepped decidedly up to the counter across from him.
"Sento," she began. "Banjou cares about you."
His heart ached. "I know," he admitted, his voice wet. "But it's too much."
Misora's expression was infinitely sad. "He doesn't care about the Hazard—"
"Misora," Sento interrupted, lowering his head. "I still don't have a mark. I checked. Believe me, I've looked. Often. I'm not—I'm not meant to be his."
Misora rubbed her cuff, right over where her soul mark was hidden. "I might never know who my soul mark says," she said at length. "This cuff might never come off. But—!" She stepped close enough to reach out for Sento's hands. "I still want to be happy. So if I fall in love with someone, I'm going to try. With them. For them. So that they can be happy too."
It was different. Misora had a mark. If she felt that connection with a person, then they were probably her soulmate. And her soulmate would wear Misora's name in return.
"If Banjou makes you happy," Misora hedged, hope like a double-edged knife in her tone, "then isn't that enough?"
It should be. People found contentment with those who were not their soulmates. Sento had found joy in the people within Nascita, but they weren't his platonic soulmates nor romantic ones. It was entirely possible for someone to find love again after their soulmate has passed away. Except—
Banjou didn't deserve to be stuck with Sento. He was an excellent partner, a great friend, a good person. Sento, with the darkness of his past as Katsuragi and now his corrupted present as a killer…He would only hurt Banjou in the long run.
So, instead of answering Misora's question, Sento asked her for the hardest, most awful favor in the world. If he used the Hazard Trigger and lost himself to it again…she had to kill him. Before he could kill anyone else.
…
…
In the end, Misora told Sawa of Sento's plan. Then Sawa brought Banjou to the proxy match. Banjou mastered the Sclash Driver and broke Sento out of the Hazard Trigger's control. No one died on either side of the conflict. He hadn't killed anyone.
"Thank you," Sento managed, voice thick with emotion.
Banjou huffed out what might have been a laugh and clapped a hand onto Sento's arm where he was hiding his wet eyes.
"You just ended a war," Banjou reminded him. "If anything, we should be thanking you."
Sento laughed wetly. He wasn't ready to make jokes about being the hero of the story again, might never be ready, but he had not felt so light since the war began. Perhaps there was a chance to make up for his crimes yet.
Banjou's hand slid from Sento's arm to his hand and clasped it tight. With another wet laugh, tears dripping onto the battle platform below, Sento held on just as tightly.
…
…
tbc
