happy valentines? idk haha im sorry /o\ i was supposed to update this earlier but i had second doubts? but oh well. cant escape the schedule now! thank you again for the support and please enjoy~

Sleep is admittedly a gift of life. And from yesterday's emotion roller coaster, he could use a bit more of this gift, even if the same gift did present him with that freakish nightmare. Unfortunately for him, he's the type who can't sleep again after waking up in the morning, no matter the time. Not to mention there's Arata, who had been up and about earlier than he has—which is surprising.

Here they are now, hunting down breakfast in some local convenience store not a block or two away from their hotel. It's easier said than done. He's struggling to not doze off with a simple onigiri in hand while Arata can't seem to choose what to have so he's jumping from one shelf to the next, promptly annoying the blond because he's acting like a five year old in a toy store.

"Can you please take something so we can leave?" he says, sounding desperate.

"But I don't know what to eat…" Arata whines, surprisingly similar to a kicked puppy.

The blond's finger twitches. "Just get onigiri."

"I'm not going to get any energy from just that!"

He sighs. A whining Arata is one kind of Arata he doesn't want to put up with. He shakes his head, makes his way to the cashier and pays for his food, all the while keeping a sideways glance on Arata.

He thinks that he should choose Arata's breakfast instead for the following days to come if he's going to be this picky about simple food. They ate their breakfast together most of the time—Arata's the one who cooks, because the blond can't do that to save his life—so now that their routine is lightly disturbed, he's like a mess of autumn leaves in the wind.

His hair is red like autumn leaves too.

Arata has always been a big eater anyway; the blond reminisces on the many times he had tried to steal his sausages in the dining hall. Not to mention he used to spend almost every Silver Credit he had on snacks. He wonders if Arata is still the reckless spender from many years ago.

When Arata comes back to the counter with an armful of 'food', he thinks he has his answer.

They leave the store in a bit of a hurry, with him advising Arata not to spend too much in one place. He's not sure if the redhead heard him or it fell on deaf ears. He already has an amnesiac Arata to deal with; he doesn't need a deaf one to add to it.

He sees Arata opening the wrapper to a spicy bun when he decides to interrupt.

"Have you taken an injection?"

He wants to slap himself, kick himself in the shin or slam his head into a wall of concrete. But even if he feels all of that, he's serious about the question.

He just didn't mean to say it that way.

Arata stops biting into his bun midway and he turns to look at the blond, almost with eyes of disbelief. There's a moment's silence that leaves him uncomfortable. But when Arata breaks into a big grin, he's more confused than ever.

"That's the first time anyone outside of my family cared." Arata says. He shakes his head, still grinning. "No, I haven't. I'll do that when we get back," the redhead tilts his head, a tint of pink on his cheeks, before he says, "I can show you how to do it too, I mean, if you want. I mean, you can never be too sure, right? Like maybe I fainted or something and I need it and you can—"

"Okay."

Arata gives him a surprised but glad look. "Really?"

He nods. "Really."

He just wants to help Arata as much as he can.

When they reach their room again, he finds they are talking about flowers. They had walked past a flower shop and he had made a comment regarding the flowers, stating he did prefer real live flowers than the fake plastics after all.

Arata got them into a very lengthy conversation about flowers, to say the least. It's not that he isn't enjoying it—he can feel himself smiling, damn it—but it did feel kind of strange. Arata knows a lot about the language of flowers, apparently, because one of his friends in the band absolutely adores it and it rubbed off on the redhead.

"Can you believe that forget-me-nots actually mean true love? It's one thing they're called forget-me-nots." Arata says, chuckling and sounding amused by the idea.

"I thought roses meant true love?" he replied, sitting down on his bed.

"Nah, roses just mean love in general. It's the forget-me-nots that have the word true in them. So, what flower do you like? I'll try telling you the meaning of it if I remember." Arata offers with a grin. He's sitting cross-legged on his own bed, looking eager and excited to hear the blond's answer.

He takes a few moments to think, realizing that he doesn't really know a lot of flowers in the first place. He decides to go with his heart and say, "Carnations. I think I like carnations the most."

"Eh… Carnations, huh?" Arata is still grinning. "That's a fun one. A different coloured carnation can carry a different meaning. I remember reading that red carnations mean yes while yellow carnations mean no. Amusing, huh?"

It's not like he really cares in the first place, but it's nice to know and see that Arata is enjoying himself.

They spend some time in their room, with Arata showing him how to properly inject the insulin and where it would be best. Arata even gets him to do it in the end, which freaks the blond out at first because what if I mess up oh my God will he die if I mess up—

(He manages to do it, somehow. Arata had flinched and looked nervous too, but he still encouraged the blond to go on and it worked out.)

When the sun is at its highest peak, they agree to go out again for lunch and some sightseeing. It's only the second day, and they don't really have much planned. They walk with a tourist map in hand, and keeping an eye out for a restaurant that wouldn't be too much of a burden on their wallets but still have good food.

They settle for a ramen stand.

It's a surprise to the blond that things like these still exist in this age. He supposes some things never change or fade away with time.

Arata easily makes friends with the owner behind the counter, talking with the old man as if they've been friends for years. And when they pay and leave, he notices how Arata's beaming.

The redhead is wearing a simple dark purple shirt with a Yeah! in bright colours and stars on the front and a pair of khaki pants with some Converse shoes. He has some bracelets made of rope and leather on his left wrist too. It's a simple outfit and yet the blond finds himself staring. He gulps and uses all the strength he has to look away.

The blond feels a hand on his shoulder and almost jumps out of his skin.

"Hoshihara, I've got an idea on where we can go," Arata says with another one of his famous grins. "You'll love it, I promise."

After that stunt at the beach yesterday? He can't say he doesn't trust Arata.

So he shrugs, and for Arata's sake, nods his head. "Sure."

Arata leads the way, just like the day before, and the blond follows slightly from the back. They walk by the sidewalk of the main road and he's readings the signs but none of them ring a bell. "Can I know where we're going this time?" he dares to ask, looking at Arata from the sides of his eyes.

"Can I make it another surprise?" is the response he gets.

The blond closes his eyes and chuckles. "Fine," he surrenders. He's not really curious in the first place. Because he knows, wherever Arata takes him, it will be a good place. He knows that from a long time ago, from when they were in Kamui. All he needed to do, all he needs to do, is take the other's hand.

Arata just laughs.

"You seem familiar with this place," the blond begins.

"I've visited with my family a couple of times, actually," Arata says. "Okay, a lot of times," he admits with a sheepish smile. "Even before I had my accident."

That explains everything.

"And you still wanted to come here with me? Don't you feel bored?"

"Of course not!" Arata says, raising his hands a bit. "It's different when it's with family. It's different when it's with… you."

The way Arata said the last sentence; it leaves a thump! in the blond's chest. What is that about? It's almost like… he's saying…

He quickly looks away, feeling the jitters trickle up him and he rubs his forearms. He curses himself inwardly because he stutters when he says, "R-Really?" He gulps and dares himself to ask, "How is it… different?"

What is he doing?

Arata almost trips over his own two feet. "A-Ah, it's like…!" he starts to say but it doesn't sound like he's going anywhere with it, if the fumbling and stuttering and looking at everywhere but the other means anything. "H-Hey, look, we're here!" he suddenly exclaims, pointing at a signboard that says Shiki no Sato.

The blond feels his jitteriness slowly evaporate into the air and he lets the breath he's holding go. He looks up, following Arata's finger and reads the sign.

"Shiki no Sato?" he reads out loud. They're not exactly there yet, they have to take a right first, but he can see the entrance in sight. "What's in there?"

Arata holds his wrist and breaks into a light jog. He's grinning and it's as if the awkwardness from the earlier predicament never happened. "Come on, you'll see!" the redhead says.

He obliges, letting a fond smile appear on his face when Arata turns his head forward so the redhead doesn't see.

They walk through the gates and the sight blows him away.

There are a variety of colours, from pink to blue and yellow, and more than the colours are the types that greet his eyes. He can recognize at least seven in his sight and at least four he knows by name. The rest, from sky to land, are laden with flowers he doesn't know—never seen or never heard of.

The gates that they walked through, they're covered in green overgrowth. There are lilac-coloured flowers on the overgrowth, some blooming to its full and some still young buds just peeking out into the new world.

He can feel his breath catch and he can feel the amazement from deep inside him. He walks forward, turning his head around to get a clearer look of the place.

"It's… a garden," he says, barely whispering the words. "It's a garden."

Arata walks up next to him. He can hear the smile in the redhead's voice as he says, "Yeah, it's really nice, huh? I hope… you don't mind all these flowers, Hoshihara."

The blond is basically left speechless. So he shakes his head and says, "No, I don't mind at all. It's… It's really beautiful here," he looks to his side, to see Arata looking at him almost expectantly. "I like it." He admits.

Arata grins again but there's something different about this one. He seems more open, clearer—brighter, and relaxed. The blond knows he did something right by then.

The redhead gives him a tour of the garden and he's showing him the flowers he talked about earlier. He cracks jokes, and the blond struggles to keep his poker face on most of the time. Arata must at least notice his lips twitching and the blond can see the satisfaction on the other's face.

They walk past a water fountain and he sees a stream not far from where they are that leads to a lake. All this nature feels overwhelming after staying cooped up in the city for so long. He figures he really did need this vacation and from how Arata is acting, he thinks he can say the same in his behalf.

The souvenir shop is quite the walking distance away, deeper into the heart of the garden slash park. He sees various postcards and other knickknacks with floral themes, and fridge magnets that promote Shiki no Sato and Fukushima. He notices the shelf filled with flower dolls and plushies, where a little girl and boy are begging their parents for two dolls each.

Arata buys some snow globes and keychains, saying that his bandmates asked him for souvenirs. They walk out the shop with a Thank you! echoing behind their backs from the clerk and the blond thinks everything is going smoothly so far today, and thanks to the earlier awkwardness he's sure things can't get worse.

But then he locks eyes with Muraku.

The both of them, he and Muraku, stop dead in their tracks—both of their eyes wide and their expressions made up of shock. The blond can't feel his limbs but his heart is trying to jump out of his chest and his entire body feels ice cold like all the warmth slipped out the moment they saw one another.

Shit.

Muraku's eyes turn from him to the redhead next to him and then he turns back. Arata is technically doing the same thing—he's turning his head from his flatmate to Muraku and then back to his flatmate, a look of utter disarray and curiosity on his face.

The silence drags on. Nobody is saying a word—Muraku, out of disbelief, Arata, out of confusion, and he, out of fear.

Then the parents and their two children from earlier walk up from behind the two flatmates and the children both run up to Muraku with bright grins on their faces, shouting, "Muraku-nii! Muraku-nii! Look what we got!"

Like someone had clicked the play button again, Muraku bends down to pet the two children's heads and smile. "They look really cute. But don't abuse mom and dad's wallets too much, okay?" he says with a chuckle. The two children nod their heads, each of them hugging two dolls tightly.

Arata nudges him in the side with his elbow. He whispers, "You know that guy?"

We both know that guy.

He swallows the lump in his throat and nods slowly to answer Arata. Then Muraku faces the parents and the blond can hear Muraku clearly when he says, "You guys go on ahead, I ran into some friends."

And then they're left alone again, just the three of them.

Before the silence could get pregnant, Muraku rubs the back of his neck. "So…"

And before anything else can be said by Muraku or Arata, the blond speaks. "It's been a long time, Muraku," he says and turns to Arata. "Sena, this is my friend from Kamui Daimon, Houjou Muraku. He was in the same virtual country as me."

Arata beams. Muraku's face says What the Fuck.

"Hi there! I'm Sena Arata," the redhead steps towards Muraku and extends a hand. "It's nice to meet you."

The black haired man doesn't take Arata's hand. He looks too surprised, too damned surprised, to respond. He stares at Arata's hand, and then at Arata's face and then he looks at the blond who's sweating through his palms and neck and just thinking what did he do to screw up this much.

Arata seems to get the message, he seems to understand the tense atmosphere between his flatmate and the stranger he just met, because he quickly retracts his hand and says, "Ah, I'm thirsty. I'm going back inside to get a drink!" and he disappears in two seconds flat.

He doesn't know if he wants to be grateful to Arata or kick him later for this. He thinks the appropriate emotion would be the former. The silent tension between him and Muraku grows and he sighs, giving in to the situation.

"…I can explain." He begins.

Muraku raises an eyebrow.

They sit on the bench next to the store and he begins telling Muraku everything. From his failed search, to the unexpected reunion, to Arata's amnesia and everything else in between that he thinks matters. Muraku is silent the entire time, and he only speaks up when he's sure the story is done.

"And for how long have you been with him?"

"Almost a year now, I think."

Muraku hums. He has his hands joint under his chin, and the blond swears he can almost see the purple gloves Muraku used to wear. They're not there anymore, obviously, because they're replaced by a ring on one finger that makes him wonder if it's an engagement ring.

"And you didn't tell anyone else because…?" Muraku turns his head to look at him.

He sighs again, this time guiltily. "Because I didn't want anyone to meet him and realize he doesn't even remember them."

He knows how that feels like. And it hurt, God, it hurt.

Muraku leans into the bench, a thoughtful look on his face. "Even after all this time, he hasn't remembered anything?"

He shakes his head. "I'm beginning to think that…" he takes a breath, "that maybe he won't get his memories back at all."

The words come out strained and reluctant, like he doesn't want to believe them. And he really doesn't.

Muraku hums. There's a thoughtful look on his face. He doesn't know what to make of it, he's not sure if anything that Muraku says after this will be good or bad.

After he began his search for Arata almost three years ago, he had not expected that the search would take so much of his time and effort that he actually began to drift away from his friends. Only Haruki and Sakuya had continuously pestered him; and Muraku drops an email once in a while.

He didn't mean to keep this a secret from Muraku, didn't mean to keep his friends in the dark about the amnesiac Arata. Only Haruki knew of this up until now, and that was because he was there too to witness the encounter. He doesn't know if Sakuya knows though, but he does know Haruki and Sakuya are still in close contact.

He just thought that he should spare them… what? The pain? The shock? He doesn't know. He hopes they understand why he did this, though, if he ever gets the chance to tell them—or if he fails to recover the redhead's memories.

Arata walks out of the shop just then.

He looks wary at first, looking for signs of a bad atmosphere or a tense aura. When he's certain he can't find any bad moods, he approaches them with his grin again.

"Man, I couldn't choose what to drink!" he says, lifting up a plastic bag with three kinds of cold bottled tea.

The blond raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're going to drink all of that?"

"No, no, of course not! I bought these for the three of us but I didn't know what your friend would like. Go ahead, you take first pick." Arata says, showing Muraku the three flavours available.

Muraku looks amused. Like, Why did I expect anything else from you?

He reaches out for the green tea, thanking Arata as he does. The blond takes his pick next, taking the milk tea, and in the same time he shoves away the slight prickle in his chest when Arata and Muraku smiled at each other.

Arata is left with strawberry tea and he looks content to have it.

"So, Houjou, right?" Arata starts and Muraku's fingers curl around his bottle tighter, but he looks up at the redhead all the same. "How was Hoshihara like back when you guys attended Kamui? He doesn't tell me anything other than how the system works!"

"Sena!" he said with a start, taken off guard. Muraku gives him a look. And then he smirks.

"He was overconfident with himself," Muraku begins, "and he wasn't a good team player. He fought with his teammates a lot, refusing to work together a number of times and went against his platoon captain's orders the first time he went into the Second World. He was always trying to outshine everyone and wanted to be the best. In short, he had a stick up his ass."

He feels his face flush. In anger or embarrassment, he doesn't know. All he knows is that he wants to strangle Muraku and send the man to Hell and the Sun and back.

Arata himself looks quite surprised. And nervous too, if the quick glances at him is any indication.

"But," Muraku continues, taking a sip of his green tea. "This was all before I moved to the same virtual country as him, Jenock. Now he's different. Someone there in Kamui changed him, for the better."

Muraku looks at him and he shrinks under his eyes. His blue eyes flicker to Arata, and their gazes catch. He blushes and looks away.

"Whoa… really?" Arata shoves both hands into his pockets, his strawberry tea forgotten in the plastic bag around his wrist. "Whoever that was, they sound amazing." He almost sounds melancholic.

He looks up, back into Arata's eyes, and says quickly. "He is."

That startles the redhead.

Arata blinks for a few times, before he raises his left hand and brushes his hair with his fingers. "I… see…" his voice sounds strained, and he makes a distressed face—eyebrows furrowed, lips curled into a frown and a deep look in his eyes.

"Sena…?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry…!" a sheepish grin appears on his face. Before he or Muraku can say anything about what happened, Arata claps his hands together. "That's right! Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen Hoshihara in an LBX battle before!"

He freezes.

Muraku looks at him before he looks at Arata. "You haven't? I thought you two have been living together for a year now?"

"Hoshihara for some reason hides his LBX from me," Arata says, accusingly. He's still grinning, so the tone doesn't bring much effect. "And it's not like I can follow him to work."

He fidgets, but Muraku doesn't notice or pretends not to. There's a smile on his face, small but with hidden meaning—almost mischievous.

"If he doesn't mind it, he can fight me right now." Muraku says, taking out a cube. He recognizes the cube immediately, and his anxiousness grows. It's a D-Cube.

Arata looks excited. "That's a D-Cube, isn't it?!" he looks at him with a sparkle in his eyes. The message is clear. Will you battle him? Please? Please? Will you?

He sighs and gives in. There's no way he can say no to that face.

The diorama is set up a bit further from the bench and shop, so they wouldn't be disturbing any other visitors. The two LBX players stand opposing one another.

"What are the terms?" he asks.

Muraku gives it a thought. "General rules, with a five minute limit?"

He nods. "Sounds good to me."

Arata stands at the other side of the diorama, looking into the miniature landscape of mountains and grass with a childlike excitement on his face.

Muraku's the first to take out his LBX, and raising his CCM, he calls out the name. "Magna Cetus!"

As it lands, Arata beams at it. "That looks so cool!"

He stares at Muraku's LBX, noting how the design is as sleek as Magna Orthus but the framework slightly resembles Gunther Yzelphar in terms of menacing. And, of course, it's painted with his trademark colour—violet, with shades of a deeper purple and some silver and gold accents.

He takes out something out of pocket—a silver cube that looks like a D-Cube but smaller. Muraku raises an eyebrow at it while Arata looks confused. He takes out his CCM and taps in a command.

"Val Spirit."

The cube comes to life—cracks appear in perfect straight lines and hints of sky blue begin to show. The cracks open wider and shift around. The eyes of the two spectators widen at the sight. It's like watching something come to life.

In a sense, that is true.

The LBX in his palm transforms into its full appearance—an elegant, sleek and versatile white and blue LBX built with speed and power in mind. There are scratches in some places, where the enemies had it easiest to hit, but even if Muraku did hit the spots his previous opponents aimed for now, it won't carry much damage to the system in general.

Val Spirit jumps into the diorama, facing its foe. The weapon it wields on the right is a katana, and in the left is an obsidian kunai. The framework looks light, like a feather, and it feels it could float off at any given second without warning. Like a spirit.

Anyone can tell it's a fast LBX—and he can almost read the question on Muraku's face. How fast?

Magna Cetus takes out its own weapon, a gun from its Multi-Gimmick Sack with three barrels. He wonders why Muraku is using a far-ranged weapon first, instead of a sword, but he assumes he wants to test out Val Spirit's speed before anything else.

"Cyber Lance technology, right?" Muraku asks.

He nods his head. Muraku smiles.

Arata looks absolutely ecstatic at the sight of the two LBXs, his eyes sparkling and a wide grin appearing on his face. The energy that's coming from him is almost contagious.

"Without further delay!" Arata exclaims, holding his bottled tea to his mouth like a microphone. "We'll now begin the match between Magna Cetus and Val Spirit! Battle… Start!"

He wants to point out that they usually say the players' names and not their LBXs. He also wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of Arata being an overexcited emcee.

He can't though, because Muraku begins his attack almost immediately. In his distracted condition, he lets some bullets hit Val Spirit before he gets his LBX to jump away from Muraku's range. Magna Cetus chases after him however, and he's left with dodging the incoming bullets in a dance. None of the bullets hit him anymore, and he can see the frustration on Muraku's face at the realization of Oh. That's how fast it is.

Using a hill as leverage, Val Spirit kicks itself off the terrain and towards Magna Cetus. In that split second, Muraku barely manages to stop the katana from hitting him with his gun. But there's still the kunai, and with hands tangled with the gun and katana, he can do nothing but take the slash it leaves on Magna Cetus's chest.

Val Spirit jumps back and he looks at Muraku with raised eyebrows, taunting him silently, coolly. There's a smirk lingering on his lips, however, and he can feel his chest beating from the adrenaline. Muraku notices his look and he bristles, the anxiousness evident on his face but there's a small smile too. Arata is cheering in the background, his voice almost drowned by the blood pumping in his ears.

Magna Cetus changes its weapon, drawing its broadsword from its MGS. The attack on Val Spirit is again sudden, and he's forced to drop his kunai because one hand is not enough to hold back Magna Cetus with his katana. Muraku's LBX may not be as speedy as Val Spirit is, who is a blur when it runs to the human eye, but it makes up for what it lacks with unbelievable strength, befitting the name of the monster its named after.

The wheels in its heels aren't helping, either.

Val Spirit is pushed back into a hill, and he swears under his breath. He inputs commands into his CCM rapidly and by miracle, he manages to slip through Magna Cetus by ducking under its arms and dropping its katana in the same time. Magna Cetus almost runs into the wall, but it doesn't, and Val Spirit makes a mad dash for its kunai from earlier.

With one kunai retrieved, and the second kunai taken from the MGS behind it, he decides on a different attack pattern. Before Magna Cetus can attack again, he rushes forward and hits the violet LBX with his kunai. He runs off, only to come back again and again.

He repeats the process, using the speed of his LBX to its fullest. It's a cliché tactic, but it's working right now. Neither Muraku nor Magna Cetus can keep up with the speed.

Val Spirit becomes invisible.

It's not something new. He knows this can happen—it was designed to happen. Val Spirit can go fast enough it will disappear to the untrained human eye. But because this isn't his first time making his LBX disappear like that, he finds that he can see glimpses of it just fine.

He knows from Arata's and Muraku's confused looks that they can't.

But maybe Muraku has good instincts, or he saw through the attack pattern, because Magna Cetus raises his broadsword in a peculiar angle and he realizes too late what Muraku is doing. Val Spirit crashes right into it, sending the lightweight LBX tumbling and visible to the naked eye again.

He narrows his eyes at Muraku, who gives him an innocent smug look. He doesn't know how Muraku pulled that face off, but he did.

"Surely Cyber Lance's precious test player can do better than this?" Muraku says casually with a shrug.

He glares at Muraku, a threatening smile forming around his lips. "Mighty words from someone who wasn't recruited by any company."

The two of them stare at each other for a long while, before each of their LBXs begins their attacks once more.

By the end of the five minute limit (thank God Arata kept watch of the time), neither of them is the winner. Even after all these years, even with new LBXs, and even with the large gap between their last LBX match against one another until now, they still know each other's moves and tricks like the back of their hands—hardened into their minds from the long time they spent in War Time.

He wonders if, maybe, just maybe, Arata remembers their tricks.

"That was awesome!" Arata stresses the last word, throwing both of his hands up before grabbing the blond in a headlock, just as he's about to retrieve Val Spirit. He yelps from getting caught off guard and Muraku chuckles, keeping Magna Cetus.

Arata is jumping up and down with his arms still around him. "You guys were totally, amazingly, splendidly, awesome! I can't find enough words to describe that battle! It's the best I ever saw! Of course, I don't see a lot of LBX battles in the first place… but!" he stops for a while. "It's still astounding!"

He doesn't care if Muraku is laughing at his misery—he's just glad that Arata doesn't notice the red that's dusting his cheeks from this embrace he has him in.

Thankfully, Muraku saves him from his embarrassment. "Arata was it?" damn, he's good at acting. "Maybe you should let him go now. I think he's having a hard time breathing…"

Arata does let him go, but then he moves his hands to his face instead and looks him in the eyes carefully. "You're okay, right? I didn't hold you too hard?"

"I'm not fragile!" he bursts, a slight scowl on his face from being treated with care. He's not a breakable package, thank you very much. He pulls away from Arata's hands, feeling the warmth on his cheeks stay for a bit longer than what he would've liked.

Arata just laughs. "Of course you're not."

He doesn't think the redhead meant it.

Muraku coughs into his hand, attracting their attention. "Now, if the two of you would stop acting like newlyweds for just a second…"

A furious blush creeps up his neck and face and he hears Arata sputter. "W-We're not newlyweds!"

"You're the one with the engagement ring anyway," he mumbles and looks evidently at Muraku's left hand.

Muraku looks confused for a moment, genuinely and utterly confused, before a look of realization settles on his face and he laughs. He raises his left hand, the ring now on obvious display. "You mean this?"

He nods his head. Muraku shakes his.

"It's not an engagement ring, but it does act as one."

The statement leaves him in his own state of confusion. He looks at Arata, who looks back at him with the same confused face.

He doesn't need to ask for an explanation because Muraku provides. With a shrug, he says, "I don't want a relationship, any kind of relationship actually. I'm aro and ace. So this ring just helps keep interested people away."

Ah, he should've expected that. He watches as Muraku's diorama returns to its D-Cube form, and the man picks it up before pocketing it. He laments on their high school lives together. Muraku had always rejected love letters, and the few lucky people who did manage to get into a relationship with him always ended up with the Violet Devil calling it off not long after.

The news didn't surprise him. He guesses he just always… knew.

"So that's it?" he says, scratching the back of his head. "And here I thought you were forced into an arranged marriage."

"That's extreme…" Arata comments with a shudder. "Arranged marriages at this decade? I'd run away from home if my parents put me up to it."

The three of them exchange a few more words regarding the topic, with Arata occasionally laughing at something he or Muraku said. Then Muraku's parents from earlier come back with the two hyper children in tow, and they have to bid their goodbyes.

"It's nice meeting you, Sena Arata." Muraku says his name the same way the blond remembers him saying it; all those years ago back in Kamui Daimon, back when the Violet Devil was in Rossius. Muraku shakes Arata's hand, who grins. "I can say the same to you! Thanks for showing me that LBX battle!"

Then Muraku shakes hands with the blond. "It was nice fighting against you again, too. Take care, alright?"

When their eyes lock, the message from Muraku is obvious. Take care of him too.

"You don't have to worry too much. I'll keep in touch, okay?" Of course I will.

They wave him off and when Muraku is out of sights, Arata is grinning sneakily at him—a grin full of mischief. It leaves a bad feeling in his gut.

"What?" he asks, feeling quite alarmed.

"Oh, nothing~" Arata says and whistles a tune, walking towards the heart of the garden.

He blinks. "Hey, that can't be nothing! What is it?!"

"I told you, nothing!"

"Come back here!"

Arata's laugh sounds like chimes as he chases after him.