A week after what Soushi is privately calling The Incident, there has been… absolutely no sign of either of them. Makabe Kazuki is back to being so conspicuously and intentionally absent that he might as well be a ghost.

And Soushi's… what? Predecessor? Progenitor? Counterpart?

Whatever he is, Soushi has felt nothing from him.

Which is— well. Soushi isn't stupid. He can figure, in retrospect, that the constant, draining tiredness and loneliness that had disappeared after The Incident had been because of that Soushi. He's also certain that, despite those feelings disappearing for the most part, that that guy is still there.

Just hiding himself better. Maybe so that he can take control of Soushi's body again, which is a thought that makes a nauseous, bone-deep terror rise up in the back of Soushi's throat. He doesn't think that's why, but that guy had taken control of him, and Soushi had had no power to stop it.

(He hates, hates, that his only true reassurance in that respect is that guy not wanting to do something Makabe Kazuki would hate. The sanctity of his own body shouldn't be in the hands of someone he wanted to kill.)

(That he wants to kill. Doesn't he…?)

Shaking his head sharply, Soushi focuses on the other, more likely option. That that guy is hiding because he's, what, miserable about not being able to see his boyfriend? Really? Soushi is Soushi, and they're not the same, but aren't they supposed to be, sort of? And yet—

That guy's irritation resolves into a stabbing pain behind Soushi's left eye that makes him wince and clutch at it, even as he's biting back satisfaction at actually getting a reaction.

Don't speak on things you know nothing about, comes a voice in his head that isn't his own.

(Or… is, sort of. It's like listening to a recording of your own voice, and then a step further. It's weird.)

"Technically I didn't speak on anything," he mutters into the silence of his bedroom, because he can't quite help himself. The stabbing pain behind his eye increases enough to make it start watering furiously.

"Okay, okay!" Soushi bites out, and the pain recedes a little. He can still feel that guy's presence like it's the precursor to a migraine, but it feels a little less intentional.

The other Soushi stays silent but still noticeably present as Soushi rubs his eyes and then flops back forcefully onto his pillow, glaring up at the ceiling.

"Tell me, then," he demands. "I want to understand… everything."

He's supposed to be some force for hope for the islanders, and he doesn't understand it. He's whatever he is to the other Soushi but still himself, and he doesn't understand that either. He knows - no matter how little he wants to admit to knowing it - that Makabe Kazuki cares about him deeply, even if he demonstrated that care by murdering Soushi's sister, and he understands that least of all.

Soushi is sick of not understanding things.

And his predecessor owes him, after The Incident. If he wants to do things like take control of Soushi's body, he can at least make up for it with information.

There's a second of tiny, stifled amusement in the back of his head that makes Soushi glare harder at the ceiling, and then the other Soushi sobers up again.

I don't think I can put it into words, comes the voice again, after a moment of thoughtfulness. Not if you actually want to understand.

Soushi makes a frustrated noise. "Show me, then. You can do that, can't you? I do want to understand. Something. Anything. Everything. You owe me at least something!"

There's a pause, and then a feeling of wordless acquiescence. And then… well.

In retrospect, maybe Soushi should have realized that his predecessor would focus on Kazuki. In retrospect, maybe he should have paid closer attention to how the other Soushi had felt while he was in Kazuki's presence. In retrospect, maybe he should have considered that having every single bit of this opened to him all at once would be agonizing.

(Soushi has never felt the way his predecessor feels about Kazuki for anyone. Soushi doesn't think he wants to feel this way for anyone. Soushi has the bruising feelings of hurt and betrayal and upsettingly persistent affection that he clutches close to his heart where nobody else can see them, and he'd thought that that was a kind of agony. It feels like a joke in the face of his predecessor's feelings, like he's a fish from a tank who'd thought that was all the water in the world until suddenly being dumped into the ocean. Soushi feels tiny, and childish, and there are tears running down his cheeks and it hurts.)

(The other Soushi hates him, he thinks. He's not sure he can blame him, right now.)

I'm sorry, the other Soushi says eventually.

He's not sorry. Both of them can tell. Soushi doesn't actually acknowledge the lie or the fact that it is a lie with words, though, just pulls his knees up against his chest and rests his soaked cheek on them.

"He killed my sister," he says, because he feels as though he needs some kind of defence right now.

He killed a Festum wearing the face and name of my sister, the other Soushi retorts.

Soushi hisses wordlessly at him for a moment. He knows that. He knows that that's true. Just like he knows that his childhood was fake, that the island was fake, that his entire life was fake.

But not all of it was. Maybe Soushi doesn't know where the divide was between fake memories and actual experience, and maybe the whole thing was an act for everyone but him, but at least some of it happened. At least some of it was real for him.

Even if it was a lie, even if he knows better now, Soushi can't shake the knowledge that Makabe Kazuki murdered his sister. He can't pretend that Tsubaki - that whatever her name really was - wasn't his sister. Even if it was a lie, it was Soushi's reality. Pretending otherwise would, in itself, be a lie.

There's silence in his head, and then something like understanding.

"I'm sorry," Soushi says.

It's a little less of a lie than his predecessor's apology. Soushi is sorry.

But Makabe Kazuki murdered his sister and took him away from his family. Maybe it was a lie, and maybe it needed to happen. Maybe Soushi's hatred is childish.

(Maybe his hatred rings entirely hollow, and the other Soushi's mercy in this moment is to not turn the full intensity of his focus on that fact.)

"I'm sorry," Soushi says again, and this time it comes out on a sob.

He's sorry that they're in this position. He's sorry that he's positioned as an obstacle, whether either of them like it. He's sorry that, even understanding the intensity of those feelings and the agony of that separation, he can't bring himself to relent.

But he's not sorry that he can't see Kazuki. He can't be sorry for that. Tsubaki - his Tsubaki - deserves at least that much consideration from him, for at least a little longer.

I understand, the other Soushi says finally, and then falls silent. There's not really anything more for either of them to say.

(The other Soushi's presence doesn't fade, this time. It's not a comfort to either of them.)