The pale moon hangs low over the pristine rooftops of Seireitei, its silver light casting long, eerie shadows that stretch across the quiet streets. Inside the confines of the Kisaragi estate, Himari sits rigidly on a tatami mat, one of her trembling hands clutching the ornate edge of her family's ancestral table. The silence in the room is oppressive, broken only by the soft crackle of lanterns swaying overhead.
Sayaka kneels nearby, her gaze fixed on the floor. The composed air she usually carries has vanished, replaced by a delicate mixture of concern and barely concealed fear.
"Sayaka," Himari whispers, her voice low but laden with urgency, each word cutting through the silence like a blade. "You must never speak of this. Not to anyone."
"Of course, my lady," Sayaka replies, her tone steady, though her hands tighten subtly on the folds of her kimono. Her eyes remain fixed downward, not daring to wander.
"Have that physician taken care of. I don't want this news spreading," Himari says, voice heavy. Her eyes narrow, and a sneer twists her otherwise pristine face as she continues, "Oh, and inform my family"—the word drips with disdain—"that I have fallen ill and do not wish to be disturbed. Only you are permitted to tend to me. Now, go. You are dismissed."
Sayaka bows deeply, her expression unreadable, though the stiffness in her movements betrays her unease. Without a word, she rises and steps out of the room, the soft rustle of her clothing the only sound as she departs to carry out her lady's orders.
Himari presses a hand to her belly, where a subtle swell has begun to take shape. It's impossible, absurd, yet utterly undeniable. For months, she had dismissed the strange fatigue and waves of nausea as mere byproducts of the stress that came with her responsibilities. But now, her body is betraying her in a way she cannot ignore, a life is growing inside her. An aberrant phenomenon, as miraculous as it is damning.
The most important part is she has not lain with anyone! Ever!
Some might call it a blessing, a miracle even. But to her, this is no blessing. This is an ill fortune of the highest order.
Her mother had passed long ago, and her father succumbed to illness ten years prior, leaving her as the sole heir to the Kisaragi estate. Though her claim to the title was indisputable, her gender rendered her position precarious.
Many of her relatives regarded her with thinly veiled greed, their eyes sharp and waiting, eager to exploit even the slightest misstep to strip her of her rightful place. A scandal like this—a child conceived under mysterious circumstances—would arm them with all the justification they needed.
She refuses to tarnish the memory of her father. Already, she can hear the venomous whispers of her relatives if they ever discover her secret. Their scornful voices echo in her mind: "Unworthy. Unfit to lead." The mere thought makes her stomach churn.
No! It cannot stay!
Her hand tightens around the edges of the table, her grip fierce. Her knuckle blanches as the pressure builds, and in her frustration, the delicate wood beneath her fingers finally splinters with an audible crack.
The faint scent of burnt herbs lingers in the air as Sayaka hurries down the dimly lit corridors of the Kisaragi estate. In her hands, a wooden tray carries yet another bitter concoction—a remedy promised to resolve her lady's predicament. At the sliding door to Himari's chambers, she pauses, the flickering shadows of candlelight spilling through the thin gaps in the frame. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she slides the door open.
"My Lady, I—" Sayaka's voice falters, and she freezes in the doorway.
Himari kneels by a porcelain basin, her trembling hands gripping its edges so tightly that several nails have split, streaking her fingers with blood. Her face is deathly pale, beads of sweat glistening on her brow. Her lips are stained dark red, and the sickening sound of retching echoes through the room.
She spits into the bowl again, her breath ragged and labored. The sight freezes Sayaka in place, her heart pounding as dread twists in her gut.
"Lady Himari!" Sayaka exclaims, abandoning the tray as it clatters to the floor. She rushes to her mistress' side, hands steadying Himari's trembling form.
Himari jerks away, her movements sluggish yet defiant, her glare sharp despite her pale and weakened state. "Don't fuss over me, Sayaka. I said I'm fine!"
"Fine?!" Sayaka's voice cracks, her composure unravels. "You've been poisoning yourself! Look at you—" The words tumble out before she can stop them. She catches herself, her lips tightening in regret. After a heavy pause, she bows her head, her tone soft and contrite. "My lady, forgive me for speaking out of turn."
She remains kneeling, her hands folded in her lap, though her eyes dart briefly to the crimson-stained basin.
Himari wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing the blood across her pale skin like a grotesque imitation of the rouge Sayaka often applied to her in better days. Her eyes filled with anger even as her body fails her. "And what would you have me do?" she hisses, her voice intense, adding pressure to the suffocating air of the room. "Carry this... thing to term? Watch as my name is dragged through the dirt?!"
Sayaka swallows hard, her hands twisting the folds of her kimono. She wants to plead again, to beg her lady to allow her to summon an officer from the Fourth Division. But she already knows how Himari will respond. She's heard it all before—heard it more times than she can count. Himari would refuse, forbidding any outsider from entering the estate.
It has been over six months since they first discovered the truth, six long months during which Himari has locked herself away.
Himari's condition has deteriorated rapidly. What began as a pretense of illness to shield her secret has become all too real. Her body is frail, her skin pale and clammy, her once-bright eyes clouded with exhaustion and pain. The life—or lives—inside her are eating her energy at an unnatural pace, demanding more than her body can give.
It couldn't possibly be a single child, not with how her belly has become, nor with the ravenous appetite that barely sustains her. Yet even as she eats far more than usual, she grows weaker, her energy drained day by day.
Sayaka watches helplessly, her heart aching at her lady's pain. The fetuses, whatever they are, seem to be consuming her mistress from the inside out, feeding on her strength and leaving her a shadow of herself.
The whispers in the estate have grown louder, filled with speculation about Lady Himari's mysterious illness. But Sayaka's immediate concern is her mistress' health. Each passing day brings more uncertainty, and the longer Himari carries the pregnancy, the more her life is at risk. Yet, to terminate the pregnancy at this period carries even greater danger.
In the heavy silence of the room, Himari exhales a deep sigh, the sound wet and ragged, as if blood still clings to her throat. "Your concern has been heard," she says, the words are filled with something that almost sounds like resignation.
For a long moment, there is no further command. Sayaka doesn't need to hear it explicitly to understand—her lady has made her choice. Himari intends to carry the pregnancy to term.
What comes after, Sayaka cannot say. Perhaps her lady has plans. But… She lowers her head. She would also make her own arrangements to lighten her mistress' burden in any way she could.
Himari lies on the bloodstained futon, her body trembling with each shallow, labored breath. The dim candlelight cast shadows across her pale, sweat-drenched face, and her once-immaculate hair clings to her skin in tangled strands. It feels as if her very soul has been wrung out, leaving only an empty, battered shell behind.
The room is eerily silent now. The cries of the twins have finally faded, replaced by the soft rustle of clothes. Sayaka stands at the foot of the futon, her hands steady as she cradles the swaddled infants in her arms. The tiny bodies are wrapped in plain clothes, their faces peeking out, soft and unblemished, with delicate features.
Two boys. Perfectly identical. When one cries the other follows and when one stops the other also does the same.
Himari turns her head with immense effort, each movement a strain, as her vision blurs and refocuses on the bundles in Sayaka's arms. A storm of emotions churns within her—a complex mix of relief that the ordeal is finally over, disgust at the living proof of her shame, and a sickening pang of something she refuses to name.
Her voice is weak, barely a whisper, but the command is clear. "They can't stay." Her words are final. "Take them to the Rukongai or wherever, I care not. Leave them somewhere—anywhere far from me."
"I understand, my Lady," Sayaka replies softly.
Himari blinks, her gaze flickering as if processing the response. "I expected you to protest, if only a little."
For a moment, Sayaka stands still, silent. Then, her voice steady, "My lady's desire is the most important," she pauses and then says, "also, I have made an arrangements."
Himari's lips press into a thin line, her expression unreadable. She closes her eyes, her body sagging with exhaustion. When she speaks again, her voice is even quieter, almost a breath. "Do whatever you want with them. Just make sure I never see them again."
Sayaka bows her head. "As you wish, my Lady."
She turns to leave, but just as she reaches the door, Himari's voice stops her. "Sayaka."
She pauses, her hand hovering near the doorframe. "Yes, my Lady?"
Himari's gaze flickers toward the twins, the two small figures still cradled in Sayaka's arms. She holds no affection for them. "Sousuke and Shisane."
Sayaka blinks, surprised by the names, but she makes no further comment.
Himari lets out a slow, rattling breath, her chest heaving, "They're... the bane of my life these past few months. It's only fair I decide what to call them before they're gone for good."
Sayaka bows her head. "Of course, my Lady."
Himari waves a hand in dismissal, her expression already growing distant.
I dream of an all-consuming darkness, I am afraid
Sousuke stands alone in the yard, the setting sun casting long shadows across the stone pathway. The air is still, but beneath the surface, this energy around him pulses, something that others can feel but he himself barely even notices.
To Sousuke, this energy is merely a part of him, no more remarkable than breathing. It's always there, constant and inescapable. Unlike breathing, however, it demands his focus to keep a tight leash.
He suppresses it, as he always has. It's a necessity—one he has long learned to live with in his fifteen years of existence.
He can control it, and he does so by controlling himself. His emotions must remain calm, steady, like a still lake that doesn't ripple even in the strongest of winds.
If he lets his emotions slip, even for a moment… Sousuke shakes his head, banishing the thought before it takes hold. There's no point in revisiting what's already done, especially not that embarrassing incident a few years ago. The memory still stings—envy is an ugly thing, after all, and he has had more than his fill of Shisane lording it over him with that infuriatingly smug grin.
Don't be angry. Don't be annoyed. Don't be angry. The last part, in particular, needs repetition—a mantra he's clung to for years when dealing with his, in his opinion, younger brother. The distinction, while meaningless to others, is one he stubbornly holds onto. He couldn't imagine the irresponsible Shisane being older than him.
"Sousuke!"
The voice breaks through his quiet concentration like a drunk man holding a vase while running, and for a fraction of a second, his composure wavers. Nothing happens—there's no one else around to feel anything. Their uncle is away working outside, leaving the yard empty save for the two of them.
But it's the principle of the matter. He slipped.
Sousuke grits his teeth as he steadies himself… He doesn't care anymore, he stops trying to control his emotion and lets it flow on the surface.
He doesn't have to look to know who is coming; the eager, carefree steps are unmistakable. He can feel the buzzing, restless energy long before Shisane comes into view.
His twin is a storm, relentless, charging forward with an enthusiasm that Sousuke often finds exhausting. Yet, as Shisane's bounding footsteps draw closer, Sousuke takes a slow breath, his mantra echoing faintly in his mind.
Don't be annoyed. Don't be angry. Don't be annoyed.
The corner of his mouth twitches. He knows he'll need every ounce of that control in the next few moments.
Sousuke remains still, his gaze flickering briefly toward Shisane. As usual, his brother is completely unfazed. Shisane doesn't feel the weight of the energy that clings to him like an unshakable shadow. He never does.
Shisane bounds in front of him, his eyes alight with excitement, a grin stretching across his face. "Sousuke, come on! Let's go do something! I'm bored!" His voice is as lively as ever, brimming with the kind of enthusiasm that Sousuke finds both endearing and irritating.
Sousuke's chest tightens, just slightly, a flicker of frustration that he buries before it can fully form. No one else would notice it—Sousuke is too practiced for that—but he makes doubly sure his brother won't catch it.
"Are you a child?" Sousuke asks, his tone even and calm, though he already knows the answer. It's less a question and more a routine, a script they've been following for as long as he can remember.
Shisane hums thoughtfully, tapping his chin in exaggerated contemplation before flashing a grin. "Of course I am! You're one too."
Sousuke doesn't bother refuting the statement. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, the faintest flicker of exasperation crossing his features before vanishing into the calm façade he always maintains. "I can't," Sousuke replies simply, his voice steady, almost detached.
Shisane's easy freedom, his unrestrained laughter, his boundless energy—all of it grates on Sousuke in ways he'd never admit aloud. Shisane doesn't have to constantly watch himself. That effortless ease frustrates Sousuke in a way that feels almost unfair.
They should have had the same struggle, shouldn't they? They're twins—akin to one person cleaved cleanly in two, each half carrying its share of the same burdens. But knowing Shisane is better at handling it than he is…
While Sousuke is halfway annoyed with his own thoughts, Shisane remains oblivious. "You're always so serious, Sousuke," he says, pout replacing his usual carefree grin.
Before Sousuke can respond, Shisane steps closer, reaching forward and tugging at his arm, undeterred by his brother's stony demeanor. "Come on, let's have some fun with the others!"
Sousuke digs his heels into the ground, refusing to budge despite Shisane's persistent tugging. If someone were to ask which of them was the more stubborn, Sousuke would undoubtedly point a finger at his twin without hesitation. But the truth? They're both equally obstinate, neither willing to give ground unless the two of them get scolded or when blood is drawn.
A thought lingers in his mind. Sometimes, Sousuke feels as though he's the only one who understands his other half. Sometimes it feels one-sided. It gnaws at him in ways he can't explain. It makes him angry, but he can't let himself be angry.
Shisane's persistent tugging escalates as Sousuke continues to not relent. Neither twin says a word, they are glaring at each other until, inevitably, the tension snaps.
Sousuke moves first, attempting to wrench his arm free from Shisane's grip. "Let go," he mutters through gritted teeth, but Shisane only tightens his hold, laughing defiantly.
"Not a chance!" Shisane taunts, his grin wide and triumphant.
Smug little –
What starts as a tug-of-war spirals into a messy scuffle in mere moments. Sousuke yanks harder, throwing Shisane off balance, but the younger twin reacts instinctively, shifting his weight and tackling Sousuke around the middle. They crash to the ground in a heap, the impact knocking the air out of both of them.
"Idiot!" Sousuke hisses, attempting to push Shisane off, but his brother has other ideas. "Get off me!"
"Oh, I'm the idiot? You're the one being unreasonable!" Shisane retorts, his voice somewhere between a laugh and a growl as he wrestles with Sousuke's flailing limbs.
"Unreasonable? I'll show you unreasonable!"
Their struggle is wild and graceless, a tangle of limbs and frustrated grunts. Shisane manages to land an accidental elbow to Sousuke's face, the sharp impact leaving a dull ache and the immediate promise of a black eye. What a brute!
"Shisane!" Sousuke snaps, momentarily stunned by the pain.
"Oops! Didn't mean to!" Shisane calls back, though his grin suggests he's not all that sorry.
Sousuke's retaliation is swift—a swipe of his hand that catches Shisane's cheek. Just as Sousuke's nails leave a trail of bloods on Shisane's cheek, the sound of a throat-clearing cuts through the chaos like a blade. Both twins freeze mid-struggle, their limbs still tangled as they look up, wide-eyed, to see their uncle standing a few feet away.
The man's presence is imposing, his arms crossed, his sharp gaze shifting between the two of them. His expression isn't angry—not yet—but the slight arch of his brow and the faint downturn of his lips speak volumes.
"What," their uncle begins, his voice slow and deliberate, "is going on here?"
Sousuke and Shisane exchange a quick glance, the heat of their scuffle immediately cooling under the weight of their uncle's scrutiny.
"He started it," Sousuke mutters, sitting up stiffly, his tone flat but his face betraying his irritation. His black eye is already starting to darken, a stark contrast against his pale skin.
"Me?" Shisane exclaims, indignant as he points at the blood on his cheek. "You're the one who scratched me!"
"After you elbowed me in the face first, stupid!" Sousuke retorts, his calm façade cracking just slightly.
Their uncle exhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as if summoning the patience to deal with them. "Both of you," he says, his tone firm but measured, "get up. Now."
The twins scramble to their feet, brushing dirt and leaves off their clothes. Shisane still looks carefree, while Sousuke keeps his expression neutral. Nothing to see here, just walk away and continue your day.
Their uncle surveys them, his eyes lingering on their injuries. "What did I tell you about fighting?"
Shisane shrugs, his grin returning despite the circumstances, clearly unrepentant. "Not to do it where you can see?"
Sousuke shoots him a glare, but their uncle sighs, shaking his head. "Shisane, don't goad your brother!"
"Kazu-oji—" Shisane starts to protest, but their uncle interrupts before he can finish.
"Don't quibble, I know it's you!" Kazuki then looks at Sousuke. "And Sousuke, you…" He stops himself, shaking his head. "Never mind, just continue as you are."
"Well, that's unfair." Shisane pouts and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He then looks at Sousuke with the kind of expression that makes him want to hit his brother. "Anyway, it's a win for me. My fifty to your forty-five!" Shisane grins.
"It's a tie! Have you no shame?!" Sousuke snaps, his voice rising in irritation. Why, oh why, is he so easily provoked by such childish tricks? Sousuke doesn't know. It feels like Shisane's idiocy transfers to him by close proximity, making him behave this way.
"That's what a loser always says when they lose."
A cough interrupts them before they can start another argument. Their uncle sighs. "Kids, just clean yourselves up," he says, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Please, at least try not to maim each other next time."
Shisane flashes a sheepish smile. "No promises."