The air was clear, the sky a muted blue. The rhythm of waves rolled around him, breaking quietly upon the silent bank of the beach. The leaves on the trees behind quivered faintly as the wind passed, but otherwise made no rustle, no sound. They hugged the house that stood amongst them, trees and shrubbery bowing in kind as if to protect it from the outside world. On this beach, in front of this forlorn and grand, and lonely house, Izou sat with his knees to his chest, hugging them as the greenery, and the ocean was meant to calm his nerves.

Greenery. Oceans. And white roses.

He heard someone come up behind him, and by the gait of their steps, he knew it to be Kuroi.

"Mind if I sit here?" the familiar voice asked. "Or would you prefer more time?"

More time wasn't going to help him now. Izou shrugged listlessly, and so Kuroi scuffed down on the rock next to him.

There remained a couple of feets' space between them, and Izou found it vaguely interesting that the distance didn't bother him. He supposed he didn't really want to be close to anyone right now, really.

"Any new revelations?" Kuroi asked. Izou hadn't told him much after appearing atthe house that night, but Kuroi had his suspicions. Kunihiro-sama wasn't who I thought he was, was all Izou had cracked that night. Once Kuroi and Shirai had confirmed that Saitou-sama hadn't physically hurt Izou, the following days had been set about trying to decipher what Izou had meant - ...for he hadn't explained any further since, remaining hollowed-eyed and tightly-lipped as he aimlessly wandered the green gardens and rocky beach paths.

In answer to Kuroi's question, Izou shook his head, still staring at the horizon of the waves. He had come to some revelations, but not about Kunihiro-sama.

"Did you used to dream about this place?" Izou murmured quietly. "The sounds of the waves, the canopy of the leaves… did they haunt you?"

Kuroi arched his brow at Izou, and tilted his head from side to side in thought. "Yes, I suppose so," he finally concluded. "I think this was both my first and my last memory. My first upon waking, my last before my...accident."

Pink skies, surrounded by flowers. Peonies, roses, blossoms. I know of what it is that you dream, with petals raining from above. It was I who held you.

An accident, Izou mused quietly, but then quickly banished the thought with some bitterness. The word accident sounded right, but it was laced with terrible feelings he daren't open now.

"How did you know this place was real?" Izou finally asked, still staring into the open ocean. "When Shirai brought you back, how could you trust this was really the true place from your memories, and not something you just...anchored to a dream?"

Kuroi leaned back against the rock. "Interesting choice of words," he mused in return. "If I'm honest… I didn't."

Izou raised his head, and turned it marginally to peer at Kuroi from the corner of his eye. Kuroi shrugged.

"The way I see it, everyone must walk the path of self-discovery, regardless if they are amnesiac or not." Kuroi gestured to their surroundings. "For you and me, our memories are both a blessing and a curse. We are burdened with fragments of what we don't know, but at the same time, we get to choose what we want to do with them. Although I wasn't sure this place was real..." Kuroi shrugged. "I decided which parts of it was, for me."

Izou took a moment to digest these words. In the past, Kuroi had said something similar, but Izou's situation now was far more...complex.

"But by casting those memories aside, aren't we just…" Izou looked up at the sky, trying to find the right words. "Like, abandoning our destiny? Who we were meant to be?"

Kuroi almost made a noise that sounded like a scoff, but thankfully it was mostly politely contained.

"I don't believe in destiny," he said clearly. "Shirai would tell you otherwise, but I don't believe we're meant to follow a premade path that has an end for us."

While Izou knew these words were supposed to be encouraging, somewhere inside him he felt a pit of disappointment. Immediately he chastised himself for these conflicting feelings. On one hand, the idea of fated as a star-crossed lover had once been tantalizing and wildly romantic. On the other hand, it was now a nightmare too.

"Then why do we even bother remembering?" Izou pushed back, a bit of bitterness seeping into his voice. "Why do we even try to rebuild who we were?"

"We don't," Kuroi answered. "To a certain extent, our most important decision is to choose if we want to pursue and remain as who we were, or to journey forth into completely new people."

Izou glanced down at his knees.

"What if we don't know enough about ourselves to do that?" he finally whispered. "What if we make the same mistakes without knowing, and fall into that premade path…?" Tears started prickling at his eyes. What if we were stupid enough to let everything happen again?

"Hey."

The hand Kuroi placed on Izou's shoulder was firm enough for him to pull his head up. A couple of tears fell down the valley of his knees as he looked over to Kuroi.

Kuroi's normally intense brown eyes were completely open and sincere. There was such a firm assurance to the kindness in his expression, that it made Izou's breath begin to even steadily.

"That's why we take it one day at a time," Kuroi reminded him quietly. "Look back on what we know, to make changes to what's happening now. If our destiny was meant to be, why did we have to restart it again?" Kuroi smirked here. "Obviously, something went wrong the first time."

Despite himself, Izou had to choke a laugh at that. Kuroi's smirk changed to an encouraging smile.

"We can honour our pasts, but we don't have to repeat them." Another squeeze, and Izou's smile brightened a bit, despite himself. "We choose who we want to be, Izou, and what happens to us. Every day."

Izou recalled how much Kuroi himself had changed from the kindly "Shin" he was before. His hair cut shorter, his clothes mostly modest and white. Now his hair was long, past his shoulders, always in a half-ponytail. His skin was darker, from being out in the sun all the time. His self-assuredness as Shin now shone as confidence that was fearless. Izou wondered who he would look like in a year from now, and if he would even like it. Would he be more like his past self? Or more like someone completely different?

"Did you not like being Shin?" Izou asked softly, with a bit of a smile on his face. Knowing Kuroi now, of course he wouldn't.

Kuroi looked a little surprised at the question. "He wasn't all bad," he admitted. "I don't think there was any part of me before that was Shin, but...he's a good reference for whoever I want to build for myself in the future."

At this, Izou's eyes softened, and his face crinkled in a bit of a smile.

"I think you're still like Shin," Izou murmured.

Kuroi's surprise increased. "Really?"

Izou nodded. "You're still kind, just like Shin." He looked back over to the waters, remembering the first time they had met… "Shin" looking concerned, helping Izou up from his disorientation. Here, let me help, he had said. Ah...be careful. Take it easy.

"You've always wanted to help people," Izou continued distantly. "You still do."

Kuroi still looked surprised, but now his face had softened with some humility. "I like to think Shin was more patient though," he joked. "I know I can come off a bit hard sometimes. And my temper certainly doesn't help."

Izou's smile widened. "I didn't mind," he said fondly, thinking of all the times other orderlies or Shirai would tease or sigh at Kuroi's insistent advice. "I really appreciated it."

Although Izou didn't catch it, Kuroi's face softened as well then. While it had been a common expression for Shin, it was a rare one for Kuroi.

"Well...thank you for letting me," Kuroi said sincerely. It had been truly nice, wonderfully refreshing, and strangely, deeply validating - to have had someone like Izou love and accept that part of him as what it was.

Izou smiled back at Kuroi, this time much more brightly. Wanting to encourage Izou's upswing, Kuroi wrapped his arm around his shoulders, drawing him into a tight, supporting half-hug. The two folded in on each other naturally, bonded in this moment of solidarity.

"Who you are is your choice to be, Izou," Kuroi said again, as the two of them looked onto the sun cracking between the clouds. "Your past does not dictate your fate. It's only the foundation - you have the build the rest."

Izou sighed deeply and let himself commit this moment to memory. Kuroi squeezed him, and roughly rubbed Izou up and down the arm.

"Can I always come back here for help?" Izou whispered. "If I ever get lost on my own?"

Kuroi's grip turned even more encouraging. "Of course," he said with utmost confidence. Izou glanced up and saw how committed he was to these words. "We've always got your back, Izou. Promise."

After Kuroi had left, Izou was feeling much better. He still hadn't quite figured out what to do about his future, but Kuroi certainly had a certain campaigning effect on people.

After some time, he felt another presence beside him. He looked up to see Shirai standing where Kuroi once was. In his plain white, loose garments, he seemed more like a spectred monk than a human being.

"I just wanted to check-in and see how you were doing," Shirai said. "May I?"

Izou simply nodded, uncertain yet how he was to feel about Shirai. The white flowers, the sea, the greenery. No one had said anything one way or another, but Izou felt that he could intuit now what was the nature of their relationship.

Shirai settled down in the same spot as Kuroi. The two sat in the silence momentarily; one cross-legged with his hands folded neatly in his lap, while the other was crunched and huddled together, with his chin resting on his knees.

"Kuroi's spoken to you, I assume?" Shirai murmured. Izou nodded, still looking at the horizon. "What did he say?"

"Fuck fate, essentially."

Shirai's moonlike face broke into a bit of an amused smirk at that. "That sounds like something he'd say," Shirai agreed.

Izou couldn't help but smile wryly as well before his own face softened.

"How do you feel about destiny, Shirai-san?" Izou asked distantly.

"I'm quite drawn to the concept, actually," Shirai said plainly. "There is a certain...comfort in knowing that your life has already been pre-written for you. I find it makes certain tribulations easier to accept. In my experience, fighting it rarely leads to any difference."

The answer was so practical and vaguely pessimistic and Izou was a little alarmed. He knew Shirai was quite a pacifist in personality, but this took the cake. Izou then thought of his own tribulations, and immediately his gut twisted. He wasn't sure if he wanted to accept what his memories were intuiting.

"But," Shirai sighed softly, tilting his head at the horizon. "Perhaps I might reconsider my philosophy... " His head drifted over his shoulder to gaze at the house.

Izou followed Shirai's gaze, before leaning his own head on the arms on his knees. His face flattened a little.

"Would you pursue him now?"

Shirai looked surprised, turning back to face Izou. If there was any comfort in what Izou had recently realized, it was that Shirai was as transparent and honest as he was pacifistic.

"I'm sorry?"

"Kuroi." Izou tilted his head more, arching his neck like a swan inspecting curiously. "You love him."

Shirai's face flickered with understanding, then broke into a bit of a half-chuckle.

"I'm afraid you haven't got that quite right," he said softly, looking down. But instead of elaborating, Shirai just turned back to face the ocean again.

Izou was mildly surprised; he wasn't usually one to get romantic inclinations wrong.

"But you do care for him," Izou pressed, trying to unravel his hypothesis. "You want to love him."

The sad, wry way Shirai smiled confirmed Izou's suspicions. But instead, Shirai responded with these words.

"I just want to do right by him."

It was clear this was as much Shirai was ever going to say on the matter, so Izou returned to gazing at the sea. Before he could sort that mess out, he had other, bigger problems on his plate.

"If you don't mind me asking, have you thought of what you'll do with Saitou-san?" Shirai asked.

Izou shook his head.

"I know I don't know much about you two," Shirai started slowly, "but he does seem to care for you a great deal."

At the implication, Izou blanched. He hadn't really wanted to think about Saitou-sama's... care , if that had been what it was. So certain, so absolute. As if Izou had absolutely no say in it.

"He talked as if we were star-crossed lovers," Izou whispered bitterly.

"He knew you from your past, then?"

Izou laughed darkly. "Sure. Or something. I don't entirely know." He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his arms.

"I want to believe him," Izou bit out in a whisper. "But I'm also scared. None of this makes any sense. He doesn't even know me!"

Shirai didn't reach over to comfort him like Kuroi did. But his voice was gentler, filled with much more compassion and understanding that Izou thought was capable.

"Perhaps that might be a good place to start," were his kind words. "To put yourself first. Whatever you decide with Saitou-san, you don't have to decide now."

Both Izou's heart and stomach twisted at that. He was about to protest, but Shirai hadn't finished speaking yet.

"After all," Shirai continued, "if Saitou-san truly believes you two are star-crossed lovers...then what's a little more time? And some space?"