Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It wasn't rare for Tokiya to call the rest of ST☆RISH for a sudden meeting.

Sometimes, he wanted to discuss stage directions. Other times, he came up with song lyrics that he just had to hear them sing a cappella. One time, he even dragged all of them to the dance studio to demonstrate choreography after a burst of inspiration. Tokiya was a perfectionist to the highest degree, but no one ever complained, knowing how valuable his insights were.

It wasn't even rare for Tokiya to call for a sudden meeting in the early hours of the morning, when the sun barely even shone. It was common knowledge that he was one of the earliest risers in the agency, and the only one who was ever awake to greet him on his way out for his morning jog was Masato.

It was rare, however, for the meeting to take place in Tokiya and Otoya's bedroom.

As expected, Masato was the first to knock on the door. It was unexpected, however, for Ren to trail behind him, looking for all the world like a dying man.

"I am sorry for calling everyone this early," said Tokiya in a low voice. He glanced worriedly at the swaying Ren and let him and Masato in. "I will explain when everyone is here. Ren, feel free to take the couch…"

Ren seemed to be operating on autopilot. Without needing to be told twice, he slumped onto the couch, folded his arms, bowed his head, and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, his breathing evened.

Masato was content with sitting primly and properly next to him. "No worries, Ichinose. I have just finished cooking. Perhaps we can all have breakfast after the meeting concludes."

Tokiya was about to reply, but Syo opened the door without knocking. Natsuki stood behind him, lightly tapping the door in vain. "Sorry we're late! Good morning, everyone."

Tokiya was more than used to Syo barging into every room that he didn't even have it in him to sigh. "Alright, we just need to wait for Aijima-san, then I shall start."

As if summoned by magic, Cecil knocked on the door and let himself in. "Hello! Am I the last one here? Sorry, I just woke up."

"All good, Aijima-san." Tokiya crossed his arms, looking very grave. Cecil and Natsuki were reciting their respective schedules in low voices. Syo was silently doing stretches—from the dry towel wrapped around his neck, he must be planning to hit the gym the moment he exited Tokiya's room. Masato was silently—and rather awkwardly—observing everyone. And Ren was sleeping.

Finally, the buzz halted when Cecil looked around and asked, "Where is Otoya?"

Syo also spoke up. "Yeah, we're still missing Otoya." Spotting the mound of blankets on Otoya's bed, he clicked his tongue and approached the mattress. "Jeez, is he still asleep? Oooi, Otoya…"

Tokiya hissed. "Don't—"

But it was too late. Syo lifted the blankets in one smooth movement, revealing…

Well, it was undoubtedly Otoya, alright. Messy red hair and tan skin and all. But this Otoya was clearly too small for the 175 centimeters listed on his profile. His shirt, pants, and blankets engulfed his tiny figure. He tucked his limbs into himself as he snored softly. His chin was more rounded, his cheekbones were less prominent, and while Otoya's face always held traces of boyishness, this was clearly the yet-mature face of a child.

"What the—" Syo jerked back as if he encountered a horde of spiders. The blanket dropped onto the floor. "O-Otoya?!" he squawked. Otoya stirred, and he quickly lowered his voice. "That is Otoya, right?!"

Tokiya was massaging his forehead by now. Among the appalled, "I-Ittoki…?!" the soft gasp of, "Otoya-kun…?" and the drowsy, "Ikki? Damn it, I'm more hammered than I thought," he managed to raise his voice just enough. "Everyone, please calm down. This is why I called everyone today. When I woke up this morning, Otoya was…" His voice stuttered when he noticed Otoya was properly waking up. No matter how confused he and everyone else were, discussing someone right within their earshot was still uncouth.

The whole room held its breath when Otoya's eyes blinked open, revealing large red eyes that were usually so bright and energetic but were now devoid of light. Those lips that always curved into a smile were now pulled into a frown. He looked around the room, and it bothered ST☆RISH when his eyes were filled with confusion, not recognition. In fact, there might even be fear.

Everyone's horrors were confirmed when Otoya was the first to speak—in a small, nearly cracked voice that had yet to develop, "Who… are you?"

Chaos erupted.

"Oi, Otoya, you must be joking."

"Otoya-kun? It's us!"

"Ikki, what are you…?"

"Everyone, please!"

Tokiya nearly yelled this time. Everyone froze, but Tokiya wasn't directing irritation towards the group. Instead, he was looking at Otoya with concern.

Five heads followed the direction Tokiya was staring at, and they were met with Otoya's glassy eyes. His lips wobbled, and it was all he could do to hide his face in the collar of the shirt that was too big for him.

"Wait, Otoya," Tokiya's voice cracked. "I'm sorry. Did I…?"

Before he could finish the sentence, Otoya started sniffling.

Masato moved like a blur. Suddenly, he was perched on the edge of Otoya's bed and positioned himself to block Otoya's small body from view. No one could see Masato's face, but his low voice traveled through the deadly silent room. "Apologies for the shock, Ittoki. I imagine it must be overwhelming for you."

Otoya didn't say anything, only blinking rapidly. Masato took it as his cue to proceed. "It must be disconcerting to wake up to strange faces, so why don't you have a drink? Then, we can talk."

Then, Masato took it upon himself to fetch Otoya's mug from the bedside table and handed it to the child. He kept his hand at the bottom of the mug as Otoya drank with wobbly hands.

Once Otoya drained the mug, he whispered so softly that only Masato could hear, "Thank you, um…" He eyed Masato nervously.

"You're welcome. Introductions are in order, I think," said Masato, slightly raising his voice for the whole room to hear. "My name is Hijirikawa Masato. These"—he gestured with a hand to the other five people in the room—"are my friends from an idol group named ST☆RISH. A group you are also in."

Otoya now eyed everyone with guarded curiosity. Natsuki gave a little wave. "So… they're my friends?"

Everyone sighed a collective breath of relief. At least Otoya knew they weren't a group of shady kidnappers. Natsuki piped up. "That's right! We went to Saotome Academy together, too. I am Shinomiya Natsuki. Masato-kun and I were your classmates!"

Otoya shifted uncomfortably. "I've… never heard of Saotome Academy…"

The rest of ST☆RISH exchanged looks of confusion. Masato swallowed through a dry throat. "Ittoki… may I ask your age?"

"Seven."

Everyone else winced. Otoya's age had regressed fifteen-something years. Just how exactly were they going to explain this?

But Tokiya had something else on his mind. "Seven… That should be when—ah, never mind." His tone hinted that he would talk about this once Otoya was out of earshot. "Anyway, Otoya, hello. Um, my name is Ichinose Tokiya, member of ST☆RISH, as well as your roommate. Speaking of, we live in the dormitories of Shining Entertainment, where many of Saotome Academy's students are employed after graduation."

Otoya tilted his head. "Em… employ?"

"He means we work here." Ren was the one who spoke this time. He still looked exhausted, but his eyes were soft with amusement instead of droopy with sleep. "And we live in the same place, too! Fun, huh? Anyway, the name's Jinguuji Ren." He smiled lazily and winked at Otoya.

Otoya's next words wiped the smile completely off Ren's face. "Oh… Just like me and my siblings at the orphanage."

Tokiya cringed. He hadn't wanted to bring up what he realized—that Otoya must have regressed to the time he just lost his family and entered the orphanage where he grew up.

Ren recovered quickly. "Not… quite," he chuckled. "I can see the resemblance, though."

"We're all bigger than your siblings, I bet!" said Syo, louder than necessary.

"Most of us."

"Shut up, Ren. Anyway, hey, Otoya! I'm Kurusu Syo!"

By this point, Otoya's eyes were darting from one person to another, lips moving soundlessly. Masato's voice dropped to a light whisper. "You don't have to force yourself to remember everyone's names and faces immediately."

"Yeah, especially Ren's."

"Ochibi-chan, you're so grumpy this morning…"

"As you can see," Tokiya sighed, though he failed to hide the fondness in his voice, "we are… a colorful bunch."

The usual Otoya, the one ST☆RISH and the world knew and loved, would grin widely and laugh heartily. His eyes would sparkle, his laugh would travel across the room, and his presence would carry warmth, love, and music.

This time, Otoya only observed Ren and Syo's banter with guarded interest until they felt awkward at the lack of a third voice. Syo cleared his throat. "So, okay, I know Hijirikawa said to take it easy, but there's one more person you gotta know."

Everyone turned to Cecil, who had been way too silent all this time. Cecil met Otoya's eyes with furrowed brows. He chewed his lips and wrung his hands restlessly until Natsuki gave him a gentle push on the back. "You can do it, Cecil-kun."

Cecil forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hi, Otoya. My name is Aijima Cecil. It is nice to meet you."

The rest of ST☆RISH waited for Cecil to say more—the most important thing that he should say. But Cecil cast his gaze downwards and pressed his lips together.

In fact, it was Otoya who mumbled, "Aijima…san?"

Everyone flinched, Cecil most of all. Otoya didn't seem to notice. "That's like my mom's last name."

There was a collective intake of breath, followed by a low curse from Syo. Tokiya and Masato scrambled to come up with something, but Cecil spoke first. "Is that so?" His tone had become more lighthearted. "What a coincidence. I hope we can become close, then!"

"Uhm… then…" Otoya looked tentatively at Cecil, then at Masato by his side, and finally at everyone else. "I'll… I'll be in your care."

He bowed his head, and something broke in Cecil. At how unsure Otoya looked, how guarded and reluctant he must be, and how, despite everything, he had no choice but to go along with the six strangers he was supposed to be friends with. Cecil forced a deep breath and looked around. Judging from Tokiya and Masato's complicated faces, Syo's clenched fists, Natsuki's frown, and Ren's tight lips, everyone else felt the same way.

After their glamping trip, ST☆RISH had become even closer, if that was even possible. This was especially true for Otoya and Cecil. If they were both free, it was impossible to find one without the other. They played games together, watched silly movies together, sang together while Otoya strummed his guitar… But now, here Otoya was, looking at Cecil—at all of them—like they held no memories for him.

ST☆RISH, being strangers to Otoya? When Tokiya had been sharing a living space with him for years? When Masato and Natsuki were his first friends in the academy? When Ren and Syo were like supportive (yet sometimes annoying) siblings who had his back no matter what? When Cecil had clicked with him so easily before being aware that they were bound by blood?

It felt wrong. It was wrong. Otoya should never be looking at ST☆RISH this way—with confusion, doubt, restraint, and anxiety, with no love to be seen. ST☆RISH was not going to let this go on. But…

"The heck do we do now?" Syo voiced everyone's sentiment.

"The first thing we should do," said Tokiya after a moment's pause, "is to cancel Otoya's work for the day. I can inform the agency…"

"Or," Ren piped up, "we take it up to the Boss."

Syo gulped audibly. Natsuki put a hand under his chin. "I wonder if he has a solution…"

"That"—Ren pointed at Natsuki—"or he might have something to do with it."

Everyone grimaced, knowing how eccentric their wild card of a president was. Didn't he accidentally summon Satan once? With the stunts he pulled off on a daily basis, turning Otoya into a child might just be a side effect of whatever he tried to do this time.

Tokiya pinched the bridge of his nose. "Either way, Ren is right. I hate to say this, but we should tell him."

"I agree," Masato pitched in. "He has to be made aware if something this major happens to his—ah, to one of his idols."

It was a good thing (or a bad thing, if you asked Syo or Ren) that Otoya was following everyone's conversation like a confusing volleyball rally. Otherwise, Masato wouldn't have been able to catch himself from saying what was on everyone's minds.

His idol? His son, you mean? His one and only son, from his one and only love, whom he left to pursue his career? His son, whom he still hadn't acknowledged, whom he supported financially only in secret, whom he then left to emotionally fend for himself? His son, who was now so scared of everyone leaving because he had set a precedent?

Natsuki clapped once, causing everyone to jump in varying degrees of embarrassment. "Okay! Shall we see the president now, then?"

Ren was the second to recover. "Dressed like that?" He gestured to Otoya's small form. It was hard to say he was clothed, considering the T-shirt and shorts hung so loosely on his body. It was more fitting to say he had been drowning in fabric, especially with the added blanket that he scrambled to retrieve after Syo had carelessly tossed it aside.

"I don't suppose anyone here has children's clothes to spare?" Tokiya muttered.

Masato squared his shoulders. "Give me fifteen minutes with Ittoki and I'll get that sorted."

He turned to Otoya, coaxing him with soft words that were inaudible to everyone else. After a short while, he escorted—or borderline carried—Otoya to his own bedroom.

When Masato closed the door behind him, everyone's shoulders sagged. The falsely cheerful air they tried to maintain for Otoya's sake dissolved immediately, replaced with confusion and sadness.

"For the love of…" Syo claimed Tokiya's bed and slumped on it. "It's too early to deal with something so strange."

"At least… at least Otoya-kun is a lovely child?" Natsuki hedged.

"A lovely child," Ren echoed, voice flat as he stared at the ceiling. "Who carries too much trauma for a seven-year-old."

"If I may hazard a guess…" Tokiya muttered, "at that age, the memory of losing his aunt and entering the orphanage is still fresh."

Natsuki hummed in sympathy. "He mentioned siblings, but… Oh, Cecil-kun, are you alright? You've been awfully silent."

"Hm?" Cecil minutely flinched when Natsuki touched his shoulder. "Ah… I am sorry, I was lost in thought."

The other four looked at each other, then back at Cecil with concern. While the whole situation was shocking and confusing, it was understandable for Cecil to be more disconcerted than most.

"You can talk to us," said Syo. "Just say what's on your mind. Rip the bandage off, you know?"

Cecil nodded slowly. "I just… I have seen pictures of Otoya as a child." After discovering their relationship, Otoya and Cecil caught up on each other's pasts, telling stories about their respective childhoods to make up for lost time. "His smile was as bright as it is now. But… I know that has not always been the case."

There was a collective sigh. When Tokiya visited Otoya's old orphanage, the director had told him that Otoya hadn't been able to smile in the first few months after his arrival. "A time when Otoya lost his ability to smile…" Tokiya said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Who would've thought we're witnessing it now, huh?" Ren finished grimly.

Cecil looked at the floor as if he could burn a hole through the carpet. "I just… it hurts, seeing Otoya like that." Cecil swallowed, and everyone made noises of agreement. He struggled to continue. "But what hurts more is knowing that… things should not have been this way."

"What do you mean, Cesshi?"

"Otoya did not have to lose his smile… had I been with him." Cecil's voice was so faint and breathy, and it took all his might to continue speaking. "Had we… grown up together."

There were a few seconds of silence before Ren finally stood up from the couch and crossed the room to pat Cecil's head. "Now, now. No use in dwelling on what's already happened."

Syo nodded. "Right. Otoya wouldn't want that."

"I agree!" Natsuki clasped his hands together. "We should focus on the here and now. Isn't that what Otoya-kun always says?"

"But…" said Cecil, pretending he didn't feel better after Ren thoroughly ruffled his hair. "Presently, Otoya has lost his smile again…"

Syo grinned. "So… we gotta find a way to help Otoya get his smile back!"

"But how?" Cecil frowned. "Otoya seems very guarded towards us…"

"We have to take this slowly," said Tokiya thoughtfully. "One at a time. Otoya has to be with at least one of us at all times. He should not feel as though he is abandoned, and frankly, I do not trust a child that young to roam around the dormitories alone…"

Ren chuckled. "Even an adult Ikki is a menace when left alone, to be fair."

Natsuki giggled. "It's settled, then! Otoya will have someone with him at all times. Um… but I have work this morning, so…"

"I'm free," said Syo promptly. "Sure, I'll hang out with Otoya."

"Thank you, Syo." Tokiya checked his watch. "I have an early appointment, so I hope the meeting with the president does not run late…"

At that moment, Masato knocked and opened the door. "We're ready. Shall we head to the president's office?"

Otoya peeked from behind Masato, wearing a red T-shirt and denim shorts. Somehow, Masato had found him shoes, as well.

"How did you…? You know what, I won't ask," Ren sighed in exasperated amusement.

"I could have done more, I think," Masato mused. "But…"

"No buts, Masato-kun!" Natsuki practically skipped over and bent down to meet Otoya's eyes. He giggled in glee. "Otoya-chan is sooo cute like this! Any more and I won't be able to take it!"

There was a huff of laughter from Ren, followed by an incredulous, "…chan?" from Syo.

"Otoya-kun is cuter than usual, so he's Otoya-chan!" Natsuki grinned, eyes forming into crescents. "Don't worry, Syo-chan is still cute, too."

"Shut up, I never asked that!"

Natsuki ignored his grumbling mess of a roommate and held out a hand to Otoya. "Now, Otoya-chan, shall we go?"

Otoya stared, unblinking, but Natsuki patiently kept his palm extended. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he took Natsuki's hand. With timid hopefulness, he turned his gaze towards Masato.

Masato stared back, and it only took him a second before saying, "Oh, alright." He wrapped his hand around Otoya's, and, in a voice he typically reserved for his sister, said, "Let's go then, Ittoki?"

"Mn."

The remaining members of ST☆RISH watched Otoya walk between his classmates, hands holding them close. For a second, the image of a teen Otoya walking with Masato and Natsuki down the halls of Saotome Academy flashed before them. The Otoya who smiled even brighter than the sun streaming from the floor-to-ceiling windows, who walked so freely with his loose tie and open blazer, who faced any test and trial with fiery determination. The pillar that held them together and inspired them to work hard because he loved ST☆RISH so much and poured his heart into everything.

Tokiya, Ren, Syo, and Cecil exchanged glances before looking at the timid, quiet, unsmiling Otoya in front of them. Soundlessly, they nodded and started walking.

They had a lot of work to do.

"Excuse us, President. We would like to discuss an urgent matter," said Tokiya as he led the group to enter Shining Saotome's office.

Shining was sitting with the back of his chair to the door. When the door clicked shut and the sounds of footsteps stopped, he swiveled his chair slowly for a dramatic flair. "Hmm? Why, if it isn't ST☆RISH… what is it that you want to discuss with me… oh."

Shining's eyes were obscured by his eccentric glasses, but his eyebrows visibly shot up. He stared at the spot between Masato and Natsuki's torsos, where Otoya was trying to make himself invisible. "…Care to explain, Mister Ichinose?"

Tokiya grimaced at being appointed spokesperson, as if this was his fault. "There is not much to explain, President. When I woke up, Otoya's body and mind had regressed to the age of seven. We were wondering if you have clues that can lead us to the reason or the solution."

"Or if you have something to do with—ow!"

Tokiya stepped on Syo's foot.

"That's all we know, Boss," said Ren, voice as lax as if he were discussing the weather. "Ikki here doesn't remember us—because he's a child now, you see. So until we get this fixed, he can't attend any of his jobs."

"So, President, if you have any clues, we would appreciate it if you lent us a hand," Masato concluded with a bow. Ren silently praised him for not being angrier. He sure was.

In fact, they all were. Tokiya's brows were furrowed. Natsuki was silently caressing Otoya's small hand to ease his nerves, but he himself wasn't smiling. Syo could barely suppress a glare. And Cecil balled his hands into fists, sinking his nails into his palms and lamenting the fact that he no longer had claws.

Everyone's silent anger manifested into indignant yells when Shining jumped across his executive desk and lifted Otoya by the armpits, eliciting a startled yelp from the child.

"President!"

"Oi—"

"What are you doing to your…"

That last one was from Cecil, who promptly caught himself. They weren't supposed to know—Otoya never confronted Shining, and they had to respect that decision. Syo once said that Otoya was too nonconfrontational, and that, "If it were me, I'd scream myself hoarse in front of him, and…" He then proceeded to describe several actions that ST☆RISH agreed would make Syo banned from all public appearances.

"Mister Ittoki is now seven, you say…?" Shining hummed.

"Yes," said Tokiya, wondering if Shining also knew why that age was relevant. Along with it came the curiosity of how Shining must be feeling as he held his son for the first time. He observed Otoya with alarm and sympathy.

Tokiya was about to press Shining further when Otoya unexpectedly spoke, "Uncle, you look familiar."

ST☆RISH's sharp gasp was barely audible because Shining began coughing dramatically. He put Otoya down as if another second holding him would have burned his palms. Otoya soundlessly scrambled to hide behind Masato and Natsuki again.

Though they all could guess the answer, Cecil asked anyway. "Otoya does not remember any of us, nor does he recognize the dormitories. President, why does he think you are a familiar face?" He didn't even try to hide the note of reproach in his voice, nor his hard stare. Tokiya could chide him about etiquette later.

"That is something you have to ask Mister Ittoki himself, no?" Shining said. Cecil barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

They all turned to Otoya, who shrank under the scrutiny and seemed determined not to talk. Tokiya relented. "Very well. However, President, our request still stands. Do you have any idea what might have caused this… transformation?"

"Hmm…" Shining stared at them intently. It was off-putting how he seemed to scrutinize all of ST☆RISH from head to toe when they couldn't see his eyes. "Since you seem to be very relentless in pursuing information from me… Yes, I did attempt something."

ST☆RISH bristled. There was a low curse, followed by a soft, "Syo-chan!"

Cecil sighed. "President, did you… Is this another summoning ritual that went wrong?"

"I wouldn't say it's a summoning." Shining raised both hands and shrugged. "But I did try to… contact someone, Mister Aijima…" The way he emphasized that name sent a slight chill down Cecil's spine. "Nothing happened, so I thought it didn't work, you see. I didn't expect there would be… a side effect." Shining pinned his gaze on Otoya, who quickly bowed his head and hid behind Natsuki completely.

"And do you know how to revert it?" Tokiya asked, voice flat.

"No… well!" Shining raised a finger when ST☆RISH shifted restlessly (and Syo raised his fist). "Not yet. I will do my own research, of course." Syo and Tokiya rolled their eyes. Sure. "In the meantime, I hope that you can spend time with Mister Ittoki and watch over him. I wouldn't want anything to happen to my… idol."

The fact that ST☆RISH could keep a straight face at that final word spoke volumes of their respect towards Otoya's wish, as well as a culmination of years of acting roles.

"Rest assured, that is what we plan to do," said Masato. "Now then, I believe Ittoki has yet to have breakfast, and many of us need to leave for work soon. So, President, if you will excuse us."

He and Natsuki were the only ones who bowed before exiting. Otoya mimicked them before raising his hands for Masato and Natsuki to hold. They led ST☆RISH to exit Shining's office.

Syo closed the door with a heavy sigh. "What a deadbeat."

"Syo-chan!"

"Well, I was too hopeful to expect the Boss to help," Ren commented. He ignored Masato's jabbing comment about how it was his idea to talk to Shining in the first place.

He also ignored Tokiya's pointed, "Ren, if Otoya gets nightmares after being manhandled by a two-meter man with a ridiculous hairdo and equally ridiculous sunglasses, I am blaming you… Otoya, where are you going?"

Otoya let go of Masato and Natsuki's hands for once and ran off all on his own. ST☆RISH made to move, but they halted at the faint sound of a piano that cheerfully traveled across the hall.

"This is…" Masato muttered.

Ren smiled. "Let's find the closest music room."

Otoya started eagerly peeking inside every room, knowing that each step brought him closer to the source of the beautiful melody. ST☆RISH walked closely behind him, and once again they were reminded of how strong Otoya's back looked whenever he led them to any practice room and how wide his smile was when he looked over his shoulder to address one or all of them.

Finally, Otoya reached a music room, but instead of greeting the person inside, he only stood in front of the door.

"What's wrong, Otoya-chan?" asked Natsuki. "It's okay, just open the door."

"She won't mind," Masato added.

So Otoya timidly pushed the door open, and the music stopped. Nanami Haruka turned her head towards the door, eyes brightening at the sight of her guests. "Good morning, everyone!"

There were replies of morning greetings as Haruka scanned the group. "Where is…" Her eyes moved downwards and widened. "Ittoki-kun…?"

At least Otoya didn't hide behind anyone this time, but he did take a step back. Haruka quickly recovered from her shock and rose from the piano chair. She bent her knees, meeting Otoya's shy eyes that were peeking from between his bangs. "You're Ittoki-kun, right?"

"Y-yes…"

Haruka glanced up at ST☆RISH in uncertainty. Tokiya sighed. "You see, Nanami-san…" He walked towards Haruka and whispered into her ear. Haruka's expression went from confusion, to shock, to contemplation. All the while, Otoya looked at the floor and shuffled his feet, like a child resigning himself to a punishment.

"So that's how it is…" Haruka muttered. She was still shaken, but her smile was soft when she met Otoya's eyes once more. "Then introductions are in order. Nice to meet you, Ittoki-kun. My name is Nanami Haruka. I'm a composer at Shining Entertainment, and I happen to write ST☆RISH's songs."

Otoya's eyes widened in wonder, and for a brief moment, Haruka thought she saw his smile and heard his voice. "Really, Nanami, you wrote that? That's awesome!"

Yet, at present, Otoya only said, "What I heard just now…" He gestured at the piano. "Nanami-san wrote that?"

"Yes," said Haruka slowly. The first song I ever wrote for you, she didn't say. "What do you think of it?"

"…It's beautiful."

"I see. I'm glad Ittoki-kun thinks so." And for a brief moment, Haruka remembered how Otoya had jumped excitedly. "Aaah, I can't wait to sing it!"

Haruka forced herself to say the next few words. "I wrote that for you."

ST☆RISH looked at each other. Haruka sure had guts.

"You did?"

"Yes! Many years ago. I've written more songs for you since then."

Otoya looked more curious now. "How… do you write songs?"

Haruka placed a hand under her chin, considering the question carefully. "I think about who will sing my song. How they feel, what kind of person they are, what is important to them… It's how I can put the right feelings into the piece. Later, the singer will add lyrics, so it's a joint effort." She looked at ST☆RISH and smiled. "With a great relationship between the singer and composer, I believe a song will touch many hearts."

Otoya brought a hand to his heart. "So… you need teamwork to make a song?"

"That's right."

"But what happens when the team leaves?"

There was a stunned silence. The temperature in the room might as well have dropped several degrees.

"…When?" Haruka repeated.

Otoya knew he had said the wrong thing. "I mean…" he mumbled. "Everyone will leave someday, right?"

Painful gasps traveled all over the room. No seven-year-old should be thinking like this. In a literal sense, yes, separation was inevitable. But Otoya's fears ran deeper. He thought—no, he believed—that everyone would leave him behind. How would they reassure a scarred child without spouting off meaningless comfort?

Haruka beat ST☆RISH to it. "Is that what you believe, Ittoki-kun? I think differently."

"Eh?"

"In a sense, you're right. Leaving is a part of life that you can't run away from. I know it's sad, but the people who leave us are never truly gone."

"…I don't get it."

"It's like this." Haruka looked deeply into Otoya's eyes. "If you love someone and keep them close to you, you'll remember them, right? What they like and don't like, what they look and sound like, how they make you feel, and how you feel about them. These memories all stay with you. Then…" Haruka swept a fond glance at ST☆RISH. "You will meet new people who will fill your days again. And"—her gaze landed on Cecil and lingered there—"you might even meet people who will bring you closer to those you love and have lost. To keep them in your heart for as long as you live… Isn't that also forever?"

Her true meaning went unsaid, but ST☆RISH smiled. To live in the moment, to sing and dance with all their might, to laugh and love with all their heart, that was ST☆RISH's eternity. They would do whatever it would take until this little, hurt, and fearful Otoya understood that he had a family in ST☆RISH. A family for always.

"Is… that so?" Otoya sounded like he was struggling to grasp everything Haruka had just said.

Haruka giggled. At the end of the day, Otoya was only seven, after all. "My point is… Yes, people may leave. But not always in the way that you think. A piece of them stays with you. For idols and composers like us"—she gestured to the whole room—"we leave behind a piece of ourselves in our music. As long as you remember that, the people you love are never actually gone."

There was more that Haruka wished to say. Like how Otoya's family—his mother, his aunt, even his father—were never truly gone. How they stayed within him and shaped him to where he was today. How everything that had happened to them led him to where he was now. But this Otoya wouldn't understand, so she left it at that and passed the baton to ST☆RISH.

"Well said, Nanami-san," Tokiya said while checking his watch. "But I am afraid we should leave soon if we do not want to be late." He ignored the dirty looks from Ren and Syo for killing the mood. "I am sorry, Otoya, but we have to attend our jobs. Syo will be with you, though!" Tokiya added quickly at the sight of Otoya's increasingly distressed expression. Syo flinched, even though he'd agreed to take first watch on Otoya.

"Ah, you're right! That's no good…" Haruka stood up and gathered her things. But before she followed Tokiya, who was already at the doorway, she kneeled again and pulled Otoya into a gentle hug. "I'll be off, Ittoki-kun. Remember what I said, okay? Have fun with Syo-kun! Well"—she giggled—"I have no doubt that you will."

This was ST☆RISH's cue to head off, too. "Sadly, Masato-kun and I have work the entire day," Natsuki said, his pout nearly matching Otoya's own. "But we can spend tomorrow together!"

"Kurusu, there's breakfast in the kitchen. Feel free to help yourselves. I was hoping we all could have breakfast together, but…" Masato sighed and checked his watch. "Well, then, we'll be off." Practically dragging Natsuki away, Masato muttered about how he would simply have to grab a melon bread for a light breakfast.

When it was only the two of them, Syo turned to Otoya. He was quick in volunteering himself, and he liked to think he was fine around children, but this… was new.

"Now," he said tentatively, "what should we do, Otoya?"

Chapter Text

Secretly, Syo was a little giddy. He—and the rest of ST☆RISH, he bet—would kill for the chance to see any of them as a small child and tease him to hell and back. But Otoya was currently at his lowest, and to him, Syo was practically a stranger.

Syo had dealt with enough children throughout his professional and personal lives. He particularly liked the energetic kids—the ones who were loud, witty, and rowdy to match his energy. He knew he could count on them to never make things boring or awkward. He didn't even mind the mischievous ones and would be more than happy to do the displeasing task of telling off rude children.

It was the quiet and timid ones who were harder to handle, in his opinion. The ones who kept their heads down, who never let their voices be heard, who obeyed every rule without voicing what they thought, until they ended up crying in silence. Syo never imagined there was a time Otoya had been in this second category, but here they were.

Fortunately, Syo didn't have to rack his brain—Otoya's grumbling stomach let him know exactly what he was feeling.

Embarrassed, Otoya clutched his stomach and shrank in on himself, but Syo barked out a laugh. "Hey, no worries! I'm hungry, too. Breakfast first, then we go from there, yeah? Come on, it's a good thing Hijirikawa cooked this morning." Syo turned on his heels, and Otoya jogged to follow him.

The walk to the kitchen was silent, but at least Otoya wasn't so listless. He kept stealing glances through the floor-to-ceiling windows to the garden outside. "Nice weather today, huh?" Syo broke the silence. "I was planning to work out at the gym, but maybe I'll do it outdoors since the sky is so clear. Why don't you join me after breakfast?"

"Okay, um…"

Syo sneaked a glance and stifled a laugh at Otoya's scrunched brows. Was he trying to remember his name?

"Kurusu-san," he finally said.

Syo nearly tripped on his own feet. "Ah…" he scratched his head, laughing to hide the fact that he almost cursed in front of a child, even if it was Otoya. Bewilderment and unfamiliarity filled him. "Just Syo is fine, you know."

"Then, um…" Otoya's lips formed the S, but Syo had a feeling he was greatly hesitating.

It hurt a bit, actually. Otoya never hesitated to call someone by their first name with so much familiarity, as if they'd been friends forever. This warm, unguarded friendliness was what drew Syo to him, despite being from different classes. That, and Otoya was good at sports and never ridiculed Syo for his height. Unlike the two jerks he had to call classmates…

His train of thought was interrupted when Otoya finally said, "Syo… san."

Syo huffed out a laugh, a small smile forming on his face. Well, good enough.

"Wow, Hijirikawa made a lot," Syo mused, peering into the pot of miso soup on the stove. "Lucky us!"

Syo started dividing rice, soup, and mackerel fish into their bowls and plates. "You need to eat lots so you can grow big and strong!" he said cheekily, placing the bigger fish on Otoya's plate.

If only Otoya reacted with the same spirit. Instead, he thanked Syo silently. Well, it seemed like Syo couldn't banter with Otoya for the time being.

"Let's eat!" said Syo with loud enthusiasm, then sipped his broth.

Otoya waited until the first spoonful properly disappeared into Syo's mouth before he grabbed his chopsticks. He took a sip of his own broth, and his eyes widened. Quickly, he ate with more vigor.

"Good?" Syo grinned. "That's Hijirikawa for you. Maybe we can ask him to make breakfast again tomorrow."

Between chews, Otoya tried to speak. "N-no, I don't wanna bother him…"

Syo frowned. Bother. Didn't Otoya say something similar when he ran off a while back? That he didn't want to weigh ST☆RISH down?

Afraid of sounding hollow, Syo could only say, "…Don't be ridiculous! Anyway"—he cleared his throat—"what do you usually have for breakfast?" Sandwich, he thought to himself, or eggs with ketchup.

"We make our own sandwiches…" Otoya began. Syo smiled. "Or when we get sunny side-ups, I add ketchup."

Syo hummed in interest, urging Otoya to talk more. About how he liked his sandwiches (no crusts), his favorite food (curry), and what he thought about vegetables (what else did he hate aside from green peppers?) But Otoya ate his food in silence and only gave short answers, leaving Syo to carry the conversation.

Syo rested his chin on his palm as he chewed, eyeing Otoya. It was weird—for once, Otoya was younger than him, and he thought he'd have to wrangle a rowdy, loud, cheerful boy, like some kids in his old hospital whenever he came to visit Kaoru. He was so ready to be the ever-capable older brother that he rarely had the chance to be, thanks to his twin's nagging and protective nature, but he couldn't even do that for Otoya because he was so… reserved.

"Aaaah, man, that was great!" said Syo, finishing the last bits of rice in his bowl.

Faintly, he heard Otoya go, "Thank you for the meal…" And later, when Otoya insisted on helping Syo with the dishes, he only said, "It's okay, Syo-san." He was so listless, so monotonous, so… automated, to the point that Syo barely recognized him.

How many more times could Syo handle this stab of pain in his chest before he began having suspicions of his illness relapsing?

Syo and Otoya (who was perched on a chair) did the dishes in near silence, the complete opposite of what usually went down when these two were on dish duty. Once done, Syo stretched and bounced on his heels. He had to get the mood fired up. "Now, what do you say we go to the field?"

"The… field?"

Syo grinned. "The soccer field! You like soccer, Otoya?" He nearly phrased it as an obvious statement and managed to turn it into a question at the last second.

"…Mn." The thought of going outside seemed to pique Otoya's interest.

"Great. Let's go!"

Following this, he (or someone else) would have to call out to Otoya, telling him not to run right after eating. But this time, Otoya silently followed Syo's leisurely steps, like some of the shier kids Syo had seen in the hospital. A familiar but wrong sight.

They reached the soccer field, and Syo grinned at Otoya's slow intake of breath. He remembered when they first moved to the dorms and went to check the facilities together. If he thought the sports facilities at Saotome Academy were impressive, well, it was nothing compared to what Shining Entertainment's dorms had to offer. A vast expanse of fresh green grass lay out before them. Large, sleek bleachers stood on either side of the court. The goalposts were rooted firmly to the ground, so no one could sneakily move them around to negate a goal the way some kids—and, okay, Syo—liked to do.

"Come here, Otoya. Can you help me with the cones?" Syo led Otoya to one corner of the field, where a large basket was filled to the brim with soccer balls of various brands and designs. Next to it was a stack of colorful cones, rings, and even bibs for practice.

They picked a ball and arranged cones, and Syo made another attempt at filling the silence. "Do you play soccer with your siblings often?" Wow, it was so awkward to say Otoya's siblings when he'd associated that word with ST☆RISH. Heck, Otoya had an actual blood sibling here, and he didn't even know it. How unsettling.

"Not… much," Otoya said, making Syo grow more uneasy. Did he not have friends at the orphanage? Was he keeping his distance from others? Syo desperately wanted to know. It was frustrating to see Otoya this lonely, even if it was self-inflicted by way of Otoya distancing himself from others—especially if this was the case.

But he shouldn't push. "I see. Then you'll play lots with me! How 'bout that?"

"…Okay."

"Great! Since we just ate, let's start with something light to warm up and bring the food down, yeah? Can you do short passes?"

Syo moved to stand a few strides away from Otoya, and they began kicking the ball back and forth. Otoya's passes were still sloppy and inaccurate, and more often than not, the ball didn't even reach Syo's foot. Syo cheered him on anyway, the way he did to the kids at Otoya's orphanage or his old hospital.

It seemed to be working. After a while, Otoya's passes became more accurate, and Syo suggested widening their distance.

So, even at this age, Otoya was good at soccer, Syo thought. He's just rusty because… Well.

"You're pretty good at this, Otoya!" Syo yelled to distract himself from his thoughts. "Say, how long have you been playing?"

Otoya had to raise his voice to be heard. "Since… kindergarten?"

Syo smiled. Chatting with Otoya as they played soccer together… This was more like it. "That's awesome! I couldn't really do sports when I was at that age."

Oops, Syo hadn't meant to tell this to a little Otoya, but it just slipped. He was so used to all of ST☆RISH knowing.

Otoya looked at him with large eyes, toying with the ball by his feet. "Why?" His next pass was shaky, but Syo received it firmly.

"I was sick," he said lightly, and left it at that. "So I couldn't do things that would make me too tired."

Otoya was an active child, Syo was sure, even if he didn't look like one right now. From the way his eyebrows furrowed, he must be thinking how boring Syo's childhood must've been. "What did you do, then?"

Syo laughed. "I wonder… I complained a lot, I guess. And my brother always hung out with me to keep me company. Well, more like, he wouldn't leave even if I told him to."

Otoya's ears perked up at the word. "Syo-san has a brother?"

"Yup, a younger twin brother! Maybe I'll take you to meet him sometime." Kaoru was working on becoming a children's doctor, so he'd get along especially well with this Otoya. Speaking of, could Kaoru help them find a cure for Otoya's condition? Maybe Syo should give him a call.

Otoya's voice interrupted Syo's train of thought. "So… you're always together?"

The ball landed more firmly near Syo's feet this time. "When we were younger, yeah. We're both busy with our jobs now, so we don't hang out as much… We're still close, though!" Syo added frantically at the sight of Otoya's deflating expression. Damn, he thought Kaoru was clingy, but he didn't expect Otoya's separation issues to be this severe. Just a few hours with him and Syo was beginning to fold… Damn it, hold it together, Kurusu Syo!

"I want a brother," Otoya mused, "and play with him every day."

Syo nearly failed to receive the next pass. How embarrassing. "…Don't you have lots of siblings?"

"We're… not that close."

"I see. Don't worry, if you ask them to play soccer with you, you'll surely grow closer! That's how we—"

Wait. He almost said that was how he and Otoya got close, despite being from different classes. Not that Otoya remembered. "That's how I got close with the other kids when I was little!" Then again, sick kids had a way of bonding with one another through shared misery… Was Otoya's gloominess rubbing off on him? This wouldn't do. Syo kicked the ball with reinvigorated strength.

"Was that why you started playing soccer, Syo-san?"

Syo thought about it. "Hmm, not exactly. I started playing soccer—and physical activities in general—to grow stronger."

"…Stronger?"

Syo balanced the ball on the bridge of his foot. How much should he tell Otoya? The grown Otoya knew of his illness—all of ST☆RISH did. But this Otoya was too small and hurt, and while Syo didn't see himself as the sentimental type, he felt the inherent urge to protect Otoya's feelings. On the other hand, it was unfair to hide everything from Otoya just because he was a kid. Didn't Syo hate it when the adults discussed his condition with one another but refused to tell him?

Otoya should be the one to decide how much he could handle, not Syo. With this decision, Syo said carefully, "I told you I was sick, right? Well, I was in and out of the hospital often." He kicked the ball lightly. "It annoyed me. So I trained myself to become stronger.

Otoya returned it. "Stronger for what?"

"Good point!" Syo grinned and kicked the ball his way. "For playing with the others around me…" Kick. Receive. "For protecting the people important to me, the way they take care of me." Another kick. Moments later, the ball was back to him. "Basically, I wanna put"—Syo kicked the ball upwards, balanced it on one foot, and shot towards the goalpost far behind Otoya—"a smile on their faces!"

The ball soared in a graceful arc above Otoya's head. Otoya followed its curve with a gaping mouth.

"And so I can play with you, of course!" Syo ended his speech with a grin and a thumbs-up, which he thought was a very manly pose indeed. Otoya wasn't smiling, but the sparkling, wide eyes and parted lips were satisfying enough.

They continued playing soccer. After Syo deemed they'd had enough warm-ups, they began doing longer passes. He taught Otoya how to guard the goalpost, took turns shooting and goalkeeping, and showed him the cool tricks the grown Otoya had taught him. Syo was a firm believer that exercise was the cure for most depression, but not once did Otoya's face break into a smile. He wasn't as gloomy as he'd been this morning, though, so Syo counted that as a win.

By midday, someone joined them on the field.

"Hey, Ochibi-chan, Ikki."

"Oh, it's you." Syo knew immediately that Ren had no plans to get all dirty and sweaty with them.

"I'm free right now, so I thought I'd hang out with Ikki next."

"Yeah, perfect timing. I have work in an hour… Guess I gotta grab lunch on the way. Otoya, let's pack up."

Syo began collecting the plastic cones and carried them to the corner of the field while lightly dribbling a ball with his feet.

Otoya followed with two stacks of cones under both arms, obedient as ever. But… "Syo-san is leaving?"

Syo gulped and cursed in his head. He turned to Ren, who only raised an eyebrow in question. What have you been telling him?

"Technically, I have to leave for work." Syo chose his words carefully, something he frankly rarely cared to do. He finished depositing the ball and crouched down to Otoya's level. "But it doesn't mean I'm leaving you for good! We'll play again really soon, yeah?"

Syo had said this line countless times. To the fans after every live, to the kids in his old hospital, and even to the children at Otoya's orphanage on the off chance he tagged along. A promise of seeing each other again, so they'd better work hard until then.

But Otoya didn't ask for a promise. He only looked at his shoes and nodded once. It pricked Syo's chest, but what could he do? Otoya wouldn't suddenly trust him after one soccer game. In the hospital, some kids always shed tears when he had to leave, no matter how many times he kept coming back. It was just how children were—they thought every separation was forever until proven otherwise.

Syo sighed with an exasperated smile. He looked at Otoya, from the tips of his hair to the soles of his shoes. "You need a change of clothes. Or better, a bath," he declared.

Then, he sprang to his feet and looked at Ren. "Can you take care of that? I mean, you don't have much experience wrangling kids around, do you?"

Ren looked at him in mock offense. "It's just one kid, and Ikki is the nicest boy ever." He winked at said boy. "Right?"

Otoya ducked his head and hid one foot behind the other, returning to his timid shell and erasing the traces of wonder that Syo recognized in the Otoya he was used to hanging out with.

Ren recognized the unease and chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, I know it's gotta be hard to remember so many names at once. I'm Jinguuji Ren. Pleasure to meet you, Ikki."

"Um, nice to meet you, Jinguuji-san."

Ren and Syo both flinched. As a social butterfly, no one in Saotome Academy had ever called Ren that way—not even the fangirls who crowded him and caused Syo to hurt his eye sockets from too much eyerolling. "Get used to it," Syo muttered under his breath. "He still can't drop the honorific for me."

Ren was silent for a few beats, but then he squared himself. "Ikki, if you can call me Ren by the end of the day, I'll treat you to something." He winked at Otoya again. "Now, should we get you cleaned up? Let's have fun at the shopping mall."

Syo gawked. "You're crazy," he hissed. "Bringing a kid around? As an idol?! Not to mention everyone can see it's Otoya…"

"We'll wear disguises and be lowkey." Ren waved a hand right in front of Syo's face. How dare he!

"But…"

"We'll be fine, Ochibi-chan. Won't we, Ikki?" Ren smiled at Otoya, who didn't quite understand what was so wrong with taking him to an outing and could only nod. "See. Now go to work. With all your manly chivalrous spirit, or whatever."

Syo huffed. "Don't do anything stupid, Ren." He doubted his own words, but Ren was the only one free, so what choice did he have? "And Otoya…"

Syo extended his hand, about to ruffle Otoya's hair the way he liked to do whenever Otoya scored a goal. but hesitated at the last second. Otoya didn't flinch away, but he didn't look entirely sociable, either.

Syo weighed both sides. To Otoya, he was little more than a stranger. But to Syo, this confused, quiet child was still Otoya.

So he threw caution to the wind and patted Otoya's head lightly. "We'll play again soon, 'kay? Promise!"

Ah, he ended up promising to Otoya, anyway. It didn't matter if Otoya didn't ask or even believe him for now. He'd fulfill it. Otoya nodded once, and that was all he needed.

Syo flashed Otoya one last big grin. "See you guys later!"

Ren waved back, but Otoya stared at Syo with a trace of loneliness in his eyes. It took all of Syo's might to turn around, but just as he did, he caught sight of Otoya inching closer to Ren.

At least there was hope. Syo knew he was only one part of the solution, and he'd done his part to the best of his abilities. Now, it was up to his friends.

He mouthed a good luck to Ren and jogged off to get ready for work.

Chapter Text

Syo was right—unlike him, Cecil, or, well, Otoya, Ren rarely worked with children.

So, naturally, he didn't expect Otoya to reach for his hand, but that was what happened. His natural charm and charisma could reach even children, after all. Or maybe Otoya subconsciously knew Ren was safe to be around? Ha, if only.

Despite being the youngest of three brothers, Ren hadn't been babied. Quite the opposite, in fact. Even as a child, he knew he had to make himself useful if he wanted even a drop of his father's approval.

Over the years, though, he'd started growing fond of ST☆RISH's younger members, Otoya included. Seeing a small Otoya now, Ren's heart was squeezed at all the right places. He fought to keep a nonchalant face that wouldn't get a laugh out of Syo or Masato if they saw.

Otoya's hand hesitated before he could touch Ren's, so Ren took the initiative to hold his hand and started walking. Honestly… it felt strange. He didn't know how Masato and Natsuki made it look so natural this morning. But Ren prided himself on his adaptability, so he sent a smile towards Otoya. Not the charming and slightly flirtatious smile he showed the ladies, but the warm and calm one when it was just him and ST☆RISH, without millions of watching eyes.

They reached Ren and Masato's room in silence, where Ren had found spare children's clothes on Masato's bed when he arrived to drop off his things earlier. He learned not to question where Masato got them or how he procured them so quickly. If Cecil could turn into a cat, and now Otoya had turned into a child, then Masato sewing two sets of clothes in fifteen minutes was just any other Tuesday.

Ren held up the shirt and shorts. They were the same model as the ones Otoya was currently wearing—a plain cotton t-shirt and knee-length trousers—except the shirt was black and the shorts were red. "Do you want a shower, Ikki? I've got spare towels here. C'mere, I'll show you how to run the showers."

Ren led Otoya to the bathroom and pointed at the different shower settings. "Feel free to use the products here." Ren pointed at the stash of body wash, face wash, shampoo, and conditioner. "Got it?" Otoya nodded timidly. Ren smiled. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Ren gently closed the door and soon heard a click from the inside. He sat on his bed and mindlessly flipped through magazines until his gaze landed on a photo of ST☆RISH during one of their lives. Ren looked at the picture of himself, looking delighted as he held Tokiya and Syo's hands. Inadvertently, a soft smile made its way to his face, and he basked in the warm and fuzzy feeling that always crept up his chest during their lives. Call him sappy, but being around ST☆RISH always put him at ease.

His gaze shifted to Otoya, who had an open-mouthed grin and was seemingly laughing. So bright and warm, even back during their school days. People would doubt him, but Ren wholeheartedly believed Otoya had been more popular than him. He had hordes of fangirls that were lured in by his false mask of suave charm, but Otoya was honest, pure, and earnest. It was natural for him to attract the admiration and affection of others, Ren included.

…Right?

Looking at the young Otoya now, Ren began doubting his memory. How much of Otoya's cheerfulness was by nature, and how much of it was nurtured? Did he decide to be happy for himself, or did he force himself to smile for others until it became muscle memory? At what point in his life did Otoya regain his smile, and how much of it was by design? ST☆RISH was trying to make Otoya smile again, but the last thing they wanted was to pressure him. Ren couldn't let that happen.

His train of thought was interrupted by the click of the bathroom door. Otoya walked out looking clean and smelling of citrus, which, Ren realized with a smile, was his own. He was no stranger to Otoya borrowing his body products—they both enjoyed the fresh scent of citrus on their soap. "There you go, look how cool you are." Ren got up from his bed. "But you can look even more fashionable! Ren nii-chan will help you," he couldn't help but add. It wasn't his first time acting as Otoya's older brother—in fact, a part of Ren felt this was all too natural.

"Uhm…"

Ren laughed. "You don't have to call me that. Ren is fine. Come on, Ikki."

He led Otoya to the basement, where a company car was parked. The windows were tinted black, but Ren still put on sunglasses and a hat to reduce the likelihood of someone recognizing an idol driving with a kid riding shotgun. They tore through the fortunately bare streets of Tokyo on a weekday afternoon, and soon, they reached the shopping mall.

"Have you ever gone here, Ikki?" Ren asked conversationally. Otoya had once mentioned that the orphanage director took the kids to the shopping mall once every two months. They were given a small allowance to spend on whatever they wanted, and that was how Otoya bought his first soccer ball since moving to the orphanage. Much later, he began saving his allowance and bought his first guitar, which he still kept in his room to this day.

Ren itched to equip Otoya with his black card if that would make him happy. But shopping was Syo's therapy, not Otoya's, so scratch that thought.

"Not yet," Otoya answered, his head turning this way and that. "I used to go to the smaller malls."

Ren frowned. So, Otoya had been in the orphanage for less than two months, then. The wound was fresher than he thought. He recovered quickly. "You're gonna have lots of fun, then." Hopefully, said the viciously negative part of his mind. He shook the thought away. "First stop—the department store."

Otoya gawked at the sheer size of the area, looking at the rows upon rows of dress pants on clothing hangers, baskets of neatly pressed shirts, and towering mannequins posing the latest fashion. Any other kid would start running around by now. Heck, the grown Otoya would already be flitting from one rack to another, pulling out hangers, running his fingers through the cool fabric…

"Does this place sell everything?" Otoya's voice was hushed in awe.

"Pretty much," said Ren. "But our goal's further in. Come on, Ikki."

They reached the kids' section, an area Ren never glanced at but was now admiring with appreciation. So, this was the kind of style popular among elementary schoolers these days. He recognized some of the brands for their luxury items—heck, he was wearing some of them— and whistled impressively at the price tags.

Ren pretended to peruse the rack of children's t-shirts while keeping an eye on Otoya. He waited, waited, waited… until he noticed Otoya pinning his gaze on a certain red shirt worn by a child-sized mannequin. Upon a closer look, there was an illustration of a smiling musical note—Onpu-kun—on it. Ren sighed with a smile, which widened when he felt Otoya tugging on his pinky.

"You like that one?" Ren asked. Otoya nodded. "Great choice, I think it'll look great on you. Wanna try it on? Come on."

He led Otoya to the stack of shirts placed by the mannequin's feet and picked one up. "What size do you wear, Ikki? I think M suits you, yeah?" He held the shirt against Otoya's torso, matching the shoulder width and sleeve length. Ren's heart clenched at how small Otoya looked. Not that he knew much about children's fitness, but from his amateurish point of view, Otoya looked objectively healthy. But his shoulders were slumped, his head was bowed, and his back was hunched, like the pain was too much for his small body to contain…

"Ikki," Ren forced out. Did he sound nonchalant enough? "Straighten up a bit, 'kay?"

"…Mn."

"There we go. Yup, M's probably the right fit." Ren stood up and quickly located the changing room. He gently pushed Otoya into a stall, reassuring him that he'd wait right outside. He heard the click of the bolt, but just when he turned around to find a seat, he locked eyes with someone. A store clerk.

She let out a small squeal, tore her gaze away, and hid behind the wall from where she'd been peeking, but what was the point?

Ren typically didn't mind being recognized. Even with a disguise, it was just a testament to how iconic he looked. In fact, it was flattering.

But this time, he was with Otoya, who was a child, and if Ren wasn't careful, a witness could easily tip a journalist, who would look into the kid's background, try to contact Otoya, and then… Ren exhaled. It would've been easier if he'd been caught with a lady.

He clenched his fist, releasing the tension from his body. With well-trained casual steps, he approached the clerk, still leaning against the wall and clutching her chest. "Hello there, Miss."

She jumped slightly. "Ren-sama," she breathed out.

Ren chuckled, holding up both hands in surrender. "You found me out," he said warmly.

"I'm… I'm a big fan." She seemed torn between losing herself in Ren's eyes and nervously avoiding his intense gaze.

"What an honor. Thank you, my little lamb." Ren heard another squeak and watched in mild interest as she took something from her front pocket—a handkerchief.

"Uhm… can I have your signature?"

"Of course." Ren reached for his own pocket. Carrying a pen around was a habit he'd maintained since his Saotome days. He signed the handkerchief with a flourish and even added a little personalized note. "Because you're a special lamb of mine."

The store clerk flushed and thanked him profusely.

"No, no, thank you for supporting me," said Ren with a salute. But he lingered, because the store clerk clearly had something else she wanted to say—something he'd been waiting (and dreading) for.

"Uhm… Ren-sama."

"Yes?"

"I saw someone with you…"

There it was. Ren leaned against the wall and laughed lightheartedly. "Oh! That's a family friend. His parents are out for work, so I offered to hang out with him."

With how good his acting was, no one would even think to doubt him. The clerk's face turned from confusion to understanding. "I see…" She smiled, and Ren saw awe painted across her face. Maybe soon he'd gain a reputation for being good around kids, too. Not sure how that would work out with his established playboy image, but that was a problem for the hypothetical future.

"But since he's so little…" Ren stared intently into her eyes. He heard a soft intake of breath, and this was his cue to step forward. Not too close, not too fast, but just enough to appear serious but not threatening. "I don't want him to be overwhelmed by the press, you know."

"Of course." The clerk was breathless.

"So, I'm sure you'll understand if I ask you to keep this between us? The child being with me, I mean."

"Yes, Ren-sama. Of course I will."

"Great!" Ren leaned back and straightened his back, returning to his charming, ladies' man persona. "Thanks for your cooperation, little lamb. Now, I must go. Have a great day at work." He winked, waved, blew a kiss for good measure, and disappeared behind the wall, leaving the stunned store clerk looking like someone waking up from a hypnosis spell.

He took care of that pretty well, if he did say so himself. Syo was being too paranoid. Ren turned back to the changing rooms… and met Otoya's questioning eyes.

How much had he heard? How much did he understand? Hopefully not much, from how clueless Otoya looked. Ren forced himself to beam. "Why, look at how dashing you are."

Otoya looked at the shirt he was wearing, then peered inside the changing room to see his reflection in the mirror. "Really?"

"Really!" Ren bent down and joined Otoya in looking at the mirror. The red made his eyes and hair pop and highlighted his tan skin. "But I'll teach you how to look even cooler. Let's find accessories to go with this."

They browsed through the racks displaying faux leather jackets. Ren smiled when Otoya gravitated towards flannel instead. "I like this," he said. "It's smoother…"

"Sure! Any color in mind?" Otoya shook his head. "Want my help?" He nodded shyly. Ren was close to bursting with cuteness aggression, and for once, he understood how Natsuki felt on the daily.

He reached for a flannel outer jacket that was so dark blue it was nearly black. "How about this, then? We can find jeans in this color, too."

"Okay."

The next time Otoya exited the dressing room (with no store clerk spying on them, thankfully), his outfit looked so much like what his grown self usually wore that Ren had to second-guess himself. A red shirt that matched his eyes and hair paired well with the navy flannel outerwear. His jeans were stylish but not too tight, so he could move freely. The sneakers were light and perfect for running. The only thing that stayed from Otoya's old outfit was the rosary he'd been wearing since he woke up, which he refused to remove no matter how big it was on him. Ren didn't force it and only tucked the rosary into Otoya's shirt.

Ren grinned. "You look great, Ikki."

Otoya ducked his head. He was probably not used to being decked out in brand new clothes. Hopefully, he didn't check the price tags. "Thanks to Ren-san…"

"Nonsense! You picked all the outfits." Ren only directed Otoya to several options that would suit him, but Otoya made the final calls. "Alright, final touch."

He placed a red cap on Otoya's head and smoothed his messy hair. Otoya rarely wore anything to obscure his face—after all, it was his smile, which reached his eyes, that drew people to him—but this time, the cap could help disguise him a bit.

Otoya glanced at the mirror again, turning his body every which way. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were rosy with excitement.

Ren could melt on the carpet. "Like it?"

"Mn. Thank you, Ren."

Ren's eyes widened, and in the mirror, Otoya's followed suit. "Uhm, ah… I'm sorry—"

"Nope, don't say sorry." Ren's grin was so wide that his cheeks hurt. His chest was so, so warm. His hand moved on instinct to pat Otoya's head. If only he hadn't just put on the cap there himself, he'd ruffle Otoya's hair the way he liked to do to tease him.

Otoya relaxed. It seemed like the sight of people's happiness had always been a positive reinforcement for him, even as a child.

"I'm glad," said Ren carefully. "But don't force yourself to call me that if you're not comfortable."

"…Okay, Ren-san." Otoya eyed him carefully, but Ren's smile didn't waver. This was enough.

"Right, let's find a cafe. I'm treating you to ice cream."

They located an empty cafe at a secluded corner of the mall. Ren ordered pasta and sandwiches, considering Otoya hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Not to mention he was playing soccer until noon, too… Taking care of a kid sure was a handful, especially when he didn't complain or voice out his discomfort. Ren's respect towards caretakers instantly multiplied. One of these days, he should get something for George, his butler.

Ren chewed on his creamy pasta, the rich taste barely registering on his taste buds. He watched Otoya fiddling with his sandwiches until it finally clicked. "It's okay to remove the crusts," he said with a laugh. "I should've told the server, huh? Sorry."

"No, it's okay!" Otoya shook his head frantically.

Ren smirked. "Do you need my help with it?"

Otoya shook his head again, more shyly this time. "I can do it myself."

Ren chuckled. "Alright."

They continued eating. Otoya eagerly munched on his sandwich, leaving crumbs around his lips. Ren held the urge not to snap a picture. Suddenly, his phone dinged with the custom notification he set for ST☆RISH.

How is Otoya? It was Tokiya, checking in on the group chat.

With me, Ren typed. Eating lunch right now.

Another person joined the conversation. You better not feed him junk food.

Ren snorted at the message. Mean, Hijirikawa. Just so you know, Ikki is enjoying his perfectly healthy, perfectly crustless sandwiches. With plenty of vegetables.

Aww, that's wonderful! Have lots of fun! ( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩)

Ren raised his eyebrow in amusement. ST☆RISH had this uncanny habit of showing up one after the other when someone struck up a conversation in the group chat. Right? We're having lots of fun indeed.

Ren raised his phone, about to call out to Otoya for a picture, but that was when he noticed Otoya's frown.

His first instinct was to ask if there was a problem with Otoya's food. But there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it visually, and if it tasted weird, Otoya would've reacted by now. Ren studied Otoya's face, and only now did he notice that Otoya was staring at a point behind him—at the cafe's entrance, which Ren had his back to.

But Ren didn't need to turn around. He heard the cheerful, high-pitched voice of two children, most likely boys of Otoya's age, and a grown woman. Between the giggles, Ren heard them shouting on top of one another, "Mama, mama!"

Ren's throat was suddenly dry. His head snapped towards Otoya, who was chewing on his lips instead of his sandwich. He gulped. How should he handle this? How much should he say, and how much should he let Otoya say? Damn it, he wasn't familiar with a kid's psyche, even if it was Otoya. "…Ikki."

Otoya blinked rapidly and forced himself to take a bite out of his sandwich. "Hm?"

Ren fought to hide his frown. Was this when Otoya's habit of hiding his sadness started? He searched Otoya's eyes. "If something's troubling you, you can talk to me any time."

"…Nothing's wrong, Ren-san." Otoya bit into his sandwich again. "The food's good."

Ren breathed out slowly. Alright. He wouldn't pry. But he wouldn't give up, either. 'I see. That's good."

He continued eating his now-tasteless pasta. For a spell, they remained silent with their own thoughts until Ren deliberately sighed and placed his fork on the plate with a loud clink. "I guess it's impossible not to think about her, after all that."

Otoya looked up. "Her?"

Ren smiled, partly glad he caught Otoya's attention but mostly nervous about revealing something so personal to a child. But he had to set an example, and it wasn't as if Ren had never told Otoya this, anyway. "My mom," said Ren, proud of how level his voice sounded. The last time he braved himself to be vulnerable about his family, he almost broke down in front of Masato. Almost. Well, maybe a bit. "She passed away not too long after giving birth to me, you see." And a part of him still blamed himself for that. But this wasn't about him. "I barely know anything about her." Aside from the song she wrote specifically for him, and the memorabilia and merchandise he found in thrift shops or the back shelf of old merchandise stores once in a blue moon.

Otoya fidgeted, clearly wanting to talk. After an uncomfortably long time, he said, "I… don't know my mom. Only her name."

Ren chuckled. "So we're in the same boat, huh, Ikki?"

Otoya still looked uncomfortable, but after Ren spoke of his mother so casually, he seemed more inclined to talk. "But I had an aunt."

"Yeah?" Ren smiled, leaning in. "What was she like?"

"Kind." Otoya's voice was barely above a whisper. "Patient. She loved taking me to see the sunflowers…"

Ren winced. The sunflower field. Otoya. All gloom and lifeless. "Sounds lovely."

"Yeah… but she got sick. Grown-ups said she… she worked too much." Ren was silent, waiting. "I waited until she got better. She promised we'd see the sunflowers again. I kept waiting, but she… she…" Otoya's breath hitched, and he desperately clenched his eyes shut.

"It's okay," said Ren. "I get it."

"No," cried Otoya all of a sudden, before dropping his voice. Ren eyed him cautiously. "It's my fault! It's because of me that she…"

Ren furrowed his brows. "Ikki…"

"It's my fault," Otoya repeated. He choked on his words. "She didn't have to take me in, but she did, and that's why she got sick…"

He had heard this story when Tokiya relayed it, but hearing it in person, from the Otoya who had just experienced it… Something hot broiled in Ren's stomach. He desperately tried to prevent it from showing on his face. "Who told you this?"

Otoya ducked, suddenly embarrassed. "No one! I heard the grown-ups talking…"

Ren, despite what his wild persona might suggest. wasn't one to resort to violence. But for once, he wanted to give these faceless people a good punch or ten. Did Otoya really have so many terrible relatives? As his new family, Ren couldn't let this slide. "Ikki," he said firmly. "Ikki, look at me."

Ren waited with as much patience as he'd ever mustered until Otoya dared to meet his eyes. "I know it's gonna be hard," he said slowly. "You might not believe me at first. But I need you to know, Ikki, that it's not your fault."

Otoya's features shifted as he registered Ren's words. He blinked. Once, twice. Then, the first teardrop slid down his cheeks.

Ren wanted to move to the empty chair next to Otoya and envelop the boy in a hug. But that meant potentially exposing Otoya's face to passersby. Besides, he wasn't sure how much this Otoya accepted physical contact. So Ren leaned forward, placing his hand on Otoya's shoulder and rubbing his arm occasionally. "It's not your fault," Ren repeated for however many times Otoya needed to hear it. "Your aunt took you in because she wanted to. Because she loved you. She didn't regret any of it, I'm sure."

It was the same for me. It took an embarrassingly long session of breaking down in front of his stoic roommate for Ren to forgive himself, but he was getting there. Otoya deserved the same.

"It's okay to feel sad," Ren continued, "but I don't want you to feel guilty. Okay? She wouldn't want that. She'd want you to live a happy, fulfilling life."

Otoya nodded as he continued crying silently. Ren swallowed through his dry throat. "It's okay, Ikki," he rasped out. "It's not your fault. It's never been your fault." He wasn't sure if he was saying this to Otoya or himself. Maybe both.

"Thank you, Ren-san…" Otoya whispered, futilely wiping his tears even as more spilled out. "I'm sorry…"

"No, don't apologize. Cry as much as you want."

It was a miracle how Ren managed not to cry. He kept his hand on Otoya's shoulder until, eventually, his phone dinged again. Another message in the family group chat, Ren chuckled to himself.

How are things? I will be back by six, so I can cook Otoya dinner. That was Tokiya, who would have Ren's head if he found out Otoya cried under Ren's charge—if Masato didn't get to him first. He would have a lot of explaining to do. He should've taken that picture to at least prove that Otoya had been fine for most of their outing.

But he would deal with that later. Right now, he continued soothing the boy in front of him, feeling the small third son of the Jinguuji family heal in the process.

Chapter Text

Tokiya had been feeling a headache approaching the whole day, and it took listening to Ren recounting his day with Otoya for the dull pain in his temple to turn into a throbbing ache. When Ren finished, it was all he could do to say in a completely flat voice, "You took him to a mall."

"In disguise."

"You bought him clothes."

"Doesn't Ikki look charming?"

"…That is not the point."

"Then all's well that ends well, right?"

"Ren."

"What, Icchi?"

"You made him cry." Tokiya's voice was hard now.

Ren grimaced. "Hey, I wish you wouldn't phrase it like that."

"How else am I supposed to phrase it?!" Tokiya hissed.

They were in Tokiya and Otoya's bedroom, and Otoya was snoozing on his bed. The soccer practice with Syo, walking through the largest mall in Shinjuku with Ren, and whatever emotional burden he received after must have tired him out.

"We had a deep talk," said Ren, ignoring Tokiya's blatant glare. "And it got emotional. It was hard seeing Ikki cry, believe me, but I think he needed it."

Tokiya inhaled deeply, studying Ren's serious face. He gave out no details, but Tokiya trusted Ren's judgment. Whatever Ren and Otoya talked about was not his to pry. In the end, he could only sigh. "Very well. Thank you for… taking him under your wing for most of the day."

"No worries. Ikki's a great kid."

"…Right."

"Hey, I'm serious. Anyway, I gotta go to work. See you, Icchi. Good luck."

"Thank you. I will be needing it."

"Oh, come on. It won't be so bad." And with those parting words and a chuckle, Ren closed the door.

Tokiya slowly turned towards Otoya, watching him as if he were a ticking time bomb. Should he wake him up? Should he start dinner while Otoya was asleep? What if Otoya woke up when he was not in the room and thought he had been abandoned? Goodness, Tokiya accompanied Otoya to visit his old orphanage sometimes, but he had to admit he was not as adept at handling children as some of the other members. If only he had asked Masato or Natsuki for pointers. Tokiya considered himself a quick decision-maker, but this time, he failed to set his mind before he spotted glistening tears on Otoya's cheeks.

Forget cooking. Tokiya didn't even spare a second to blame Ren anymore. He made a beeline for Otoya's bed.

Otoya was alone. He was a kid who didn't know many things, but he was sure of this. He had a mom whom he didn't remember. He had a dad whom he never got to know. He had an aunt who took care of him, but it led to her tiring herself out. It's not your fault, it's never been your fault.

But even so, he was still alone, wasn't he? He wasn't close with the kids in the orphanage. The director was worried about him. The caretakers spoke to and about him in whispers, as if he were fragile glass. No, no. He couldn't make them sad and drive them away. He wanted friends! He wanted family! But what if they left again? He wouldn't be able to handle any more loss. He was lonely. He wanted warmth. He was suffocating. The emptiness was closing in…

Amazing grace

How sweet the sound

Music. Was that… music?

That saved a wretch like me

So beautiful… He didn't know this voice, but it made him feel safe.

I once was lost

But now I'm found

Wait, he did know this voice. Didn't he hear it just this morning?

Was blind, but now I see

Ichinose-san. No…

Otoya opened his eyes and was met with midnight blue.

"Tokiya."

Tokiya swore his heart dropped to his stomach. Otoya snapping his eyes open all of a sudden gave him a little scare, but the way Otoya whispered his name was exactly how he always did. Could it be…

Otoya fidgeted. "Sorry. Tokiya… san."

Tokiya swallowed the blooming hope. Of course Otoya wouldn't regain his memories that easily. "Are you alright?"

Otoya buried his face in his pillow, and Tokiya's heart squeezed. He recognized this—Otoya's habit of hiding his sadness to avoid worrying other people. Was this where it came from? Or had it been developing for longer? Tokiya was someone who kept to himself and minded his own business, but he had learned the hard way what could happen when he incorrectly treated Otoya the same way. As his roommate, rival, and one of the people Otoya trusted most, he felt guilty and more responsible, somehow. Rather illogical, sure, but so was his relationship with Otoya.

Tokiya tried again. "Was it a nightmare?" From the way Otoya's face sank deeper into the pillow, Tokiya had struck the spot. He tread the line more carefully. "You… ah, if you are comfortable, do not hesitate to talk to me about it." Was that good enough? With the usual Otoya, Tokiya rarely had to consider his wording—Otoya took everything thrown at him rather casually. But now, he should be more considerate.

No. He should have always been. He had been fooled by the bright exterior and thus deemed Otoya happy enough, loved enough, okay enough, so he never tried to bridge their distance. He spent years living with Otoya while keeping a blissfully ignorant eye to the dirt and grime underneath. It was embarrassing how inconsiderate Tokiya had been.

Otoya still would not meet his eyes. "I'm okay."

A piece of Tokiya's heart chipped at that, but maybe Otoya had just been too tired after whatever emotional hell Ren had put him through and was not ready to be vulnerable again any time soon. "Alright," said Tokiya softly, the words coming out relaxed and lighthearted only thanks to his acting expertise. "But I am here if you want to talk, okay?"

"Mn."

It was much easier to say these things to the grown Otoya, who responded with smiles and thanks. Tokiya was not sure if this Otoya took his words to heart. How did Ren make Otoya open up? Perhaps before berating him, Tokiya should grill him for pointers.

At that moment, there was a light rumble from Otoya's stomach. Otoya's cheeks turned red, but Tokiya lightly chuckled. At last, another habit he recognized. "Are you hungry? I have not eaten dinner either. Shall I fix up something for us?"

Otoya nodded shyly. Tokiya stood up from the bed and looked at Otoya in thought. Surprisingly, Otoya stared back with clear anticipation. "…Care to join me?"

The chips and cracks in his heart mended a little when Otoya nodded and removed himself from the blankets in a rush.

In the kitchen, Tokiya told Otoya to wait by the table as he washed his hands. Cooking, for Tokiya, usually meant some kind of vegetable dish. But since Otoya required more energy, it would be better to make something with more carbohydrates. Potato salad, perhaps?

After deciding on the menu, Tokiya swiftly peeled and boiled potatoes and carrots, taking advantage of the empty kitchen to use both stoves at once. As he waited, he peeled and sliced cucumbers, then dipped them in salt and sugar.

If it were up to Tokiya, this was already a sufficient meal. But Otoya always liked… Instinctively, his hand had roamed the kitchen shelves. That was when he heard a squeak behind him.

Tokiya turned and met Otoya's timid but watchful eyes. Hurriedly, the boy avoided his gaze, but Tokiya caught what he was looking at—his hand had been hovering near a basket of vegetables. A majority of them were green peppers.

"You do not like green peppers?" Tokiya smiled. He chided Otoya about this all the time, but just this once, he let him off. "Do not worry. The recipe does ot call for it." Instead, he grabbed the pack of milk bread.

Otoya was still watching, so Tokiya made a show of slicing off the crusts and putting them aside. A part of him wanted to teach Otoya to be less picky with his food, since it was theoretically easier to train your palette at a young age, but who was he to demand Otoya like that? If the lack of green peppers and bread crusts would contribute to ST☆RISH's joint effort in making Otoya smile, then Tokiya was more than willing to slice off the damn bread crusts. Once the vegetables were all properly mixed and seasoned, Tokiya scooped some onto his plate before using the rest as a sandwich filling for the near-drooling Otoya.

Just like the grown version, Otoya ate quickly. "Slow down, Otoya," Tokiya could not help but say. "You might hurt yourself."

He expected Otoya to chuckle and scratch the side of his head before eating unhurriedly, but now he watched in mute shock as Otoya lowered his head. "Sorry, Tokiya-san."

In all his years of knowing Otoya, had he really apologized so sincerely for something so trivial? Tokiya shifted uncomfortably. "It is alright."

Otoya relaxed, but Tokiya could spot the tell-tale signs—his tense shoulders, his twitchy fingers, his downcast eyes… It took Tokiya years to recognize these, but to be fair, the Otoya he knew had unexpectedly mastered the art of masking.

Otoya should never have to. He should simply be honest. He should learn that there would be people who loved and cared about him regardless. But how was he going to convey all this? He chewed on his salad, unable to eat mindfully and appreciate the taste of the food he made himself.

As Tokiya cleaned up (with Otoya's insistence to help, to his secret delight), he tried to strike up a conversation. "I am free tonight. Is there anything you are interested in doing?"

It was odd to say this to Otoya. Tokiya would gladly spend his free time reading a book in bed instead of entertaining Otoya's antics. But this time, he was moved by a great sense of care and responsibility.

It was only after Tokiya and Otoya returned to their room that Otoya finally talked. "…The song."

"Yes?"

"The song Tokiya-san sang… it was nice."

"Ah, thank you." Right. Was it Otoya's aunt who was a Catholic? Perhaps she had sung this around their house.

Otoya fiddled with his blanket, and Tokiya watched him from his own bed on the opposite side of the room. They usually talked from their respective beds like this—or rather, Otoya did most of the talking while Tokiya listened absently—but this time, Tokiya was urged to move to Otoya's space.

He held back at the sight of Otoya's chewed lips. Dismay and mild frustration rose in his chest. Syo had easily agreed to play with Otoya, and Ren somehow made Otoya open up to the point of crying. Compared to his classmates, Tokiya suddenly felt like he was nowhere close to understanding Otoya.

Guilt began to cloud his mind. Could that really be the case? Tokiya refused to manifest this worry into reality, and it was not because he despised losing to Syo and Ren. "Do you like singing, Otoya?"

Tokiya watched in fond familiarity as the traces of glee danced in Otoya's eyes. "I… used to sing with my aunt."

Tokiya noted, not without some dread, that Otoya's eyes dimmed slightly. But they were also filled with nostalgia, which was not a bad sign. "That sounds lovely."

"Mn. She said my mom liked to sing, too."

It sure runs in the family, Tokiya almost blurted out, remembering the youthful face of their eccentric president that he had unearthed after months of curious digging. But then there was Cecil, and perhaps the genuine love for music came predominantly from their mother.

…Goodness, Cecil. If Tokiya felt this disoriented and strange, he could not even begin to imagine how this impacted Cecil. His throat was suddenly dry. "That is… nice," he said lamely. "Do you sing often? These days, I mean."

Mentally, Tokiya slapped his forehead. What was he doing, digging into fresh wounds?"

As expected, Otoya shook his head glumly. "I don't really sing with the others. I'm not close to them."

Not close to the others. Tokiya never expected he would ever hear these words from Otoya. "I see," Tokiya said, hiding the upset in his voice. "I would not worry if I were you. I think it is only a matter of time until you make friends." After all, Otoya was so radiant. He shone light into the lives of anyone he met, and his perseverance eventually broke through Tokiya's logical and no-nonsense exterior.

But this Otoya… "I'm not sure how…"

Tokiya frowned, chest squeezing. The pain worsened when Otoya continued, "They think I'm too…" Otoya gestured to himself, thinking of a suitable word.

"Distant?" Tokiya supplied. "You keep to yourself. You focus only on yourself and keep others at arm's length… Is that what others think?"

Otoya's eyes widened. He fidgeted. Whether he was uncomfortable or excited for being understood, Tokiya was yet to be sure. "Our circumstances are different, but I was like that, too."

"No way!" Otoya exclaimed, causing Tokiya to raise an eyebrow. That was the loudest Otoya had ever been since he regressed to a child. "Tokiya-san is so…"

"So?"

Tokiya smiled, watching in flattered amusement as Otoya fumbled for words. Was he shy? "Tokiya-san is so kind and caring…"

He inhaled slowly. Years ago, when he and Otoya just started rooming together, Otoya had called him that, too. He had not been sure what Otoya saw in him that was "kind" and "caring", but Tokiya had grown to accept that, as critical and perceptive as he was, this was the kind of thing only someone else could point out. He breathed out a laugh. "Why, thank you. But did you know, Otoya? I have not always been like this."

"Eh?"

Tokiya rose from his bed. Screw it. "Can I go over there?"

Unlike him, Otoya did not enjoy talking from opposite ends of the room, so he either sat on the couch or at the foot of Tokiya's bed. After so many years, it was surprisingly easy for Tokiya to do the same.

Now, the two of them sat side by side on Otoya's bed. Tokiya began his tale when they had settled comfortably. "When I first entered Saotome Academy, I had no friends either."

"Really?"

"Really. I was hyper-focused on my studies. My skills and techniques were perfect, so I thought that would make me pass every test with ease, but…" Here, he laughed dryly. "I had to admit defeat to someone." Before Otoya could ask who and force Tokiya to admit something so embarrassing, he quickly continued, "This student was in a lower-ranked class than me, so I did not consider him anything of note. Yet, he made me his rival." Tokiya's lips pursed in an attempt to suppress his laughter. "I could never shake him off, but neither could I deny his skill."

"He's better than Tokiya-san?"

Tokiya sighed with a smile. "In many ways, he is. Even though his techniques were mediocre and his breathing was irregular, when he sang… I knew from the very first time I heard him—he was the real deal."

Tokiya stood up and walked around the bed, reaching out to Otoya's guitar on its stand. "I will borrow this for a bit," he muttered, unsure if it was meant for himself, the currently absent grown Otoya, or the child in the room. He returned to the bed, quickly tuning the guitar.

Tokiya was very much aware of how intently Otoya was staring at him, but seeing that Otoya still said nothing, Tokiya continued his story while absentmindedly turning the pegs and plucking the strings. "This guitar is his—the one he brought when he moved to Saotome Academy's dormitories." He was probably dropping too many hints about the identity of this person, but Otoya was too engrossed in his story to connect the dots. "He was self-taught, so his grip and techniques were off. Even so… he performed better than I did."

"Really?"

"Yes, like this."

Satisfied with how the guitar was tuned, Tokiya strummed with more conviction. His fingers naturally found the chords without his eyes having to look. The words flowed out naturally, and his pitch was perfect. He sang Otoya's part of the song, then sang his own. It was easy when Tokiya always studied everyone's parts so thoroughly. His senses sharpened. His vocal control was perfect. His breathing was steady. When Tokiya sang, nothing else existed but himself and the song…

But then he locked eyes with Otoya, and while he still was not smiling, it was the most joyful Tokiya had seen him today.

Slowly, Tokiya relaxed. He maintained control of his breathing and enunciation, but he no longer paid strict attention to the contractions of his diaphragm or the shape of his mouth. He sang the lyrics and felt the poetry in his heart. His shoulders naturally lightened, and when the color of his voice shifted just a fraction, he did not even mind, because he was smiling.

He finished the song with a light vibrato. The strings quivered. No one in the room spoke until the reverb completely dissipated.

"Tokiya-san…" Otoya whispered. "You sound good! And looks like so much fun."

Tokiya smiled. Of course that was the first thing Otoya noticed. "Thank you." I learned that from you. "I learned that from him. Skill and technique are important, but you can never be a great idol if your singing lacks heart."

"Heart?"

"That's how you attract people to enjoy your singing. I wholeheartedly believe this is how he made friends, and I know you can, too."

Otoya still looked unsure. "Can I… hear Tokiya-san sing more?"

"Of course. Any requests?"

"Uhm… There's this song my mom liked."

"Your mom—" Tokiya nearly choked. He had a feeling he knew the song Otoya was referring to.

"I think it's… For Love?"

Tokiya did his best to suppress a wince. For Love might not have been released in their generation, but it was a record-breaking song every singer knew and dreamed of achieving. But when the composer was your mother, who you thought had been long dead, and the singer was your absent father-turned-company president, Tokiya understood why Otoya silently switched channels whenever this song came up on the radio. Cecil had started sporting a complicated expression whenever he heard it, too.

But Otoya knew none of this. All this Otoya knew was that For Love was his late mother's favorite song and one of the few memories he had of her. Tokiya would be damned if he denied this small comfort from Otoya.

So he sang For Love, the lyrics coming easily to him after studying the song for hours to understand what exactly made it sell twenty million copies. This time, he remembered to lace his voice with joy and love for music, despite how his heart lamented how it was this one thing that took the singer away from his one true love. When Tokiya finished singing, Otoya was biting his lower lip, no doubt trying to hold back tears.

Tokiya's grip on the guitar's neck nearly slipped. "Are you—"

"I'm okay." Otoya harshly wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Thanks, Tokiya-san. That was… really good."

"You do not have to thank me…" Tokiya muttered. "Is there any other song you would like to hear?"

Otoya began mentioning song titles. He asked for nursery rhymes that the director sang to the younger kids at the orphanage. He requested pop songs that the radio stations played. He even questioned what kind of songs Tokiya and ST☆RISH sang.

Tokiya played all of them on the guitar. He no longer pinpointed his focus on the pressure on his stomach or the placement of his tongue. Instead, his body swayed to the beat, and he thought about how the songs made him feel. When he sang Otoya's songs back to him, he closed his eyes and smiled gently, like a fresh summer breeze was caressing him.

To have fun while singing was something Otoya had taught him. Tokiya would teach the same thing to the scared, broken child in front of him.

Otoya's lips did not curve into a smile, but his eyes sparkled as he clapped vigorously. Tokiya figured that this, too, was enough. To cut himself some slack was also something Otoya had taught him.

Otoya had taught him so much… Tokiya felt compelled to repay the favor. Not because he felt like he owed Otoya anything, but because Otoya deserved this much from his roommate and rival.

So, Tokiya extended an offer Otoya had always made for him over the years. "Why don't we sing together?"

Tokiya could tell Otoya was interested, but he only ducked his head. "I'm not as good as Tokiya-san."

Tokiya tilted his head with a sigh and a smile. This was one of Otoya's insecurities—that he did not possess genius talent like the other members. He would argue Otoya's natural charm was something one-of-a-kind that no one else possessed, but it was useless to say that now. So he said, "I can only get to this level because of practice, you know." Come to think of it, Otoya witnessed how hard Tokiya worked, but had he ever told him how he used to be so bad at music to the point of being tone-deaf? "And when you have fun, you can improve by leaps and bounds." The way you did.

Otoya was finally convinced. "Then… can we sing Amazing Grace again?"

Something tugged on Tokiya's heartstrings. He softly strummed the guitar. His soft voice carried through the room, and soon, Otoya timidly joined. Tokiya nodded in encouragement, smiling when Otoya's voice grew stronger.

"That was very good!" Tokiya said warmly when they finished, meaning every word. Otoya bowed his head shyly as he muttered another song request.

That was how they spent the rest of the night, singing all sorts of songs that came to Otoya's mind. Tokiya strummed the guitar as Otoya sang children's lullabies. He suppressed the stuffiness in his chest when Otoya's voice, untrained and undeveloped, sang For Love, not without the hint of passion that his grown self possessed. Tokiya felt flattered when Otoya asked him to teach him their duet song, and he could sympathize with Natsuki's cuteness aggression when Otoya tried to learn the hand choreography for ST☆RISH's debut single.

But at the end of the day, Otoya was just a child. Tokiya had expected Otoya to be a child with an endless supply of energy, but apparently, this Otoya was nothing like that—or at least, not yet. After a while, Otoya's voice weakened, and he began yawning more frequently.

"I think it is rest time for you, Otoya," said Tokiya, pressing the strings of the guitar to halt their vibration.

Otoya pursed his lips in what was undoubtedly a pout. Well, that was familiar. "I want to sing with Tokiya-san more."

Tokiya huffed in fond exasperation, a familiar reaction to Otoya's antics. "You will. You always can." He paused. "I have work the whole day tomorrow, unfortunately. However!" he said quickly when the pout turned into a deep frown, "the others also wish to spend time with you. Remember Shinomiya-san and Hijirikawa-san? Your classmates will spend tomorrow with you." Natsuki and Masato had confirmed their availability in the group chat. Hopefully, Cecil could make it later in the day, because no one else was free in the evening.

After some more coaxing, Otoya finally relented. He tucked himself under the blanket and curled up, making himself look and feel smaller—Tokiya had spent enough years with Otoya to know that this was not how he normally slept. His chest tightened, and he resisted the urge to… oh, forget it.

He reached a hand to Otoya. like he had done so many times, only this time it was to rearrange his blanket. He patted Otoya's head for good measure, hoping that he could convey everything he could not say—everything would be alright. Otoya would someday find smiling as easy as taking a breath. He would soon be surrounded by so many friends. He would realize there were people who loved him. No matter what, now and always.

"Good night, Otoya."

Chapter Text

Natsuki bounded over to Otoya and Tokiya's room with delighted steps. He knew this was a confusing situation for Otoya, and while he was also taken aback, he couldn't deny his excitement at this novel experience. Aside from Syo, he'd never seen any of his friends as children. Pictures were one thing, but seeing a child Otoya in person, talking to him, spinning him around… Natsuki was practically skipping with glee.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently, though he wasn't sure how much patience he had when one of the sweetest children in the world was behind the door. He bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Ah, come in, Shinomiya-san. The door is unlocked," said Tokiya's muffled voice.

"Oka~y! Good morning!" Natsuki opened the door with a grin, emphasizing each syllable. He was greeted by the most irresistible sight.

"Good morning, Shinomiya-san. If you could give me a moment… Otoya." Tokiya turned to Otoya, trying to sound stern but coming off as gentle to Natsuki's ears. Well, no one could bear to be strict with someone as cute and sweet as Otoya, could they? "Otoya, I need to leave for work."

Natsuki tilted his body to the side and spotted Otoya clutching on the hem of Tokiya's neat dress shirt. "Tokiya-san is leaving me behind…?"

Tokiya shifted, blocking Otoya from Natsuki's view. But his voice sounded desperate and helpless.

You're leaving me…?

Natsuki blinked rapidly.

"No, I am not. I just need to do my work for the day, and we can see each other again tomorrow."

Natsuki perked up at that. "Tokiya-kun, are you spending the night somewhere?"

"Yes, I am scheduled for a two-day shoot, but I should be back by tomorrow morning."

"I see!" Natsuki clasped his hands together. "Would you like some of my cookies for the journey? I just made a batch."

"Uh, that will not be necessary, but thank you. Otoya…" Tokiya was now trying to pry Otoya's fingers off his pressed clothes. His patience deserved a gold star, in Natsuki's opinion. "Please, I will be back tomorrow, then we can sing together again, I promise."

I just have some business to take care of, so class is canceled today. Can you practice on your own? I'll be back tomorrow, then we can continue like usual.

Natsuki furrowed his brows, shooing the memory away. "You were singing together? How lovely!" He stepped forward. "Otoya-kun, Tokiya-kun needs to go to work soon, or he'll be late."

Otoya's attention went from Tokiya to Natsuki. "Natsuki-san…?"

"Yes!" Aww, Otoya remembered his name! He was worried Otoya would struggle after spending all of yesterday with three people. "I'm free this morning, so we can play together! Would you be okay with that?"

Otoya was silently chewing on his lips while he mulled over the words. Was Natsuki not convincing enough? Would Otoya rather spend the day with Tokiya after all? Natsuki understood that, as roommates, those two were exceptionally close. After all, wasn't he the same with Syo? Then again, it would be nice if he wasn't dismissed—

"Okay."

"Eh?"

"If it's Natsuki-san… okay," said Otoya firmly. Then he hopped off the bed, letting go of Tokiya's shirt in the process (the owner started smoothing out his shirt without much success). He stood in front of Natsuki, staring in shy expectation. "Uhm, please take care of me today."

Doubt left Natsuki's chest. He gladly knelt to be level with Otoya. "Yes! Let's have looots of fun, Otoya-chan! Can I call you that?"

"O-okay…" said Otoya. Natsuk beamed.

Behind him, Tokiya breathed a sigh of relief. "If that is the case, I shall take my leave. Otoya, Shinomiya-san, I will see you both tomorrow."

"Take care!" Natsuki held Otoya's hand, stood up, and together, they walked Tokiya to the door. "Bye-bye!" He waved, watching Tokiya walk down the hall and disappear around the corner.

And now it was just the two of them.

Natsuki bent down in front of Otoya again. "Well, then! What should we do, Otoya-chan? Hm?"

Otoya was looking at something. Following his gaze, Natsuki spotted Otoya's guitar on its stand. He smiled. "Did Tokiya-kun play the guitar for you?"

"Mn."

"That sounds fun!"

"Can Natsuki-san play, too?"

"Unfortunately, I don't play the guitar." Natsuki shook his head with a soft, regrettable smile. "Aside from Tokiya-kun, I have another friend who does. It's his main instrument! But…" He placed a hand under his chin. "He's away right now."

"When will he be back?"

Natsuki stared at Otoya thoughtfully. "Soon." I hope.

"So… uhm. What instrument does Natsuki-san play?"

Natsuki smiled. Otoya was asking a lot more questions than he did yesterday morning. Whatever Syo, Ren, and Tokiya did, it must have helped Otoya open up a great deal. Natsuki could only hope he was able to keep up the momentum. "I play the viola! Does Otoya-chan want to listen?"

Otoya nodded, eyes beaming in curiosity.

"Great! It's in my room. Let's go!" Natsuki extended his hand, which Otoya easily took. Together, they crossed the hall and reached Natsuki and Syo's shared room. Syo had work the whole day, which was a shame, because playing with him and the little Otoya together would be the cutest thing in the world. But he had to make do with this. A little Otoya was already a delight, anyway.

Otoya watched in curiosity as Natsuki tuned his viola. "Is that… a violin?"

"It looks similar, doesn't it?" said Natsuki, moving his bow expertly. "I can play the violin, too! But this one is a viola. It's bigger and has a lower sound." He finished tuning, and his hands instinctively moved to play the intro of a song. Ah, he ended up playing the duet he and Otoya sang for a cross-unit project they had a few years ago.

Otoya perked up, as if he recognized the piece. But it couldn't be… right? "It… sounds nice."

"Thank you! It's a song I sing with my friend who plays the guitar. But he's not here right now… If he were, we could perform a wonderful duet! But I'll play for Otoya-chan to the best of my abilities, okay? Make yourself comfortable!"

Otoya nodded and sat on the edge of Natsuki's bed, surrounded by small and big plushies. Natsuki wanted to squeal. Ah, but sudden loud noises might scare Otoya away, so he took a deep breath, focused on the weight of the instrument and the music in his mind, and began playing.

The notes came easily for him, and the pressure of his bow on the strings was perfect. He recalled how fun it was to harmonize to this song with Otoya. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear that cheerful voice and the strumming of the guitar… But as the song ended and Natsuki opened his eyes, there was only a little boy staring at him with practically stars in his eyes.

"It's really good… Natsuki-san is great at playing!"

Natsuki giggled. If he weren't holding his viola, he would surely give Otoya a tight hug. "Thank you, Otoya-chan! It's supposed to be a duet, so it's not actually complete, but I'm glad you enjoyed it!"

"Duet?"

Natsuki plucked the viola strings idly. "It means two people playing music or singing together. The piece I just played was supposed to have a guitar part." It was rare for the guitar and viola to be played together, but the resulting music blew Natsuki away.

"But Natsuki-san already sounds great by himself."

He used to hear that a lot. You sound great. You'll be a wonderful soloist, as long as you listen to what I say. He smiled bitterly. "Thank you. But it's not enough."

"Eh?"

Natsuki blinked. Oh, he must have muttered something Otoya wasn't supposed to hear… "Ah, I'm sorry. It's nothing, I was…" Natsuki began to deflect, only to notice curiosity and concern in Otoya's eyes.

What was he doing? Keeping things to himself, not letting others see his hurt, not making others worry too much, because once that happened, they would start to care, and once that happened…

Natsuki mentally shook his head. He and Otoya were similar in this regard. It was Otoya who taught him to open up. It was Otoya who, through his smiles and sorrows, taught him he would no longer be betrayed and abandoned. Now, it was Natsuki's turn to return the lesson. "Otoya-chan, can I tell you a story?"

"Okay…"

Natsuki sat down on his bed next to Otoya. "Long ago, I used to play the violin, not the viola. Do you remember Syo-chan from yesterday? We used to compete together!"

Otoya inched closer to him in curiosity. "Does Natsuki-san still play the violin now?"

"Hmm, not much. Viola is my main instrument now. Besides, there was a long time when I couldn't bear holding the violin at all…"

Otoya's eyes dimmed. Was that it? Was that how Otoya felt now, losing his ability to smile? Was there something, anything else he couldn't bear to do after losing his family? Natsuki decided this was a problem to discuss with the grown Otoya later, and only if he was comfortable.

Natsuki looked at his viola in his hands, and then at Syo's violin case across the room. "I think… I think the violin is a great instrument, but it can also be a lonely one. Its sound is sharp and crisp, so it has a lot of solo pieces—that's a piece you play by yourself. Even if you play with an orchestra, as the soloist, all the attention is on you. It can be… isolating."

"But did you have fun?"

Natsuki's eyes widened. He turned to Otoya, who looked timid but sincere. Someone must have taught Otoya the joy of music yesterday, and Natsuki had a feeling he knew who. "It was fun!" Natsuki smiled. "But most of the time, I was too busy practicing that I rarely played with friends. So during that time, I couldn't help but feel lonely on stage." His voice dropped lower. "The spotlights were too hot, the cameras were too blinding, the applause was too loud, but no one was by my side." Natsuki paused, smiling bitterly. "Only one person had my back."

Otoya was quiet, as if understanding the sadness in Natsuki's words.

"Otoya-chan… this is a sad story. It's okay if you don't want to hear the rest. I can just play more songs for you."

Unexpectedly, Otoya shook his head. "Um, Natsuki-san should let it out if he feels like it." He quickly ducked his head, as if embarrassed for what he'd just said.

Natsuki smiled softly. His friends did a wonderful job. Was it Ren who taught Otoya this? Or Syo? He resolved to bake cookies for them both. Oh, the others would get their fill, too, of course. "Okay, then." He took a deep breath. "I had… a teacher that I loved."

In hindsight, love wasn't the right word for it. His feelings for his teacher had run deeper than the ocean and spanned vaster than any galaxy. She had been his muse, his protector, his guiding star… She affirmed him, taught him how to express his feelings, taught him about feelings, and understood him as much as he understood himself. He wondered where he would be without her.

How could he explain all of this to Otoya? And how could he break it to him that the person whom he had trusted with all his heart and soul crushed him to the point of irreversible ruin?

But he had to. Otoya trusted him with his feelings, so he should do the same. "That teacher taught me everything about the viola. She… taught me everything about life. I wanted to thank her… by writing her a song."

Otoya tilted his head. "Why a song?"

Natsuki smiled bitterly. "As a musician, a song is the best way to express your feelings. When words are too much, your emotions can be carried through music."

Otoya nodded. "I want to do that…"

"I can help you with it! Whoever you're writing it for must be very happy when they receive it." He said this like a prayer.

"Did… did your teacher feel happy?"

"Ah… Well, yes. She appeared happy to me, at least. But…" Natsuki tried to avoid Otoya's large eyes. "She stole my song, left that same night, and became a famous musician soon after."

Otoya gasped. "That's bad!"

"Mn," Natsuki agreed half-heartedly. "I tried to tell people it's my song, but everyone believed her, not me."

"Natsuki-san…" Otoya frowned.

Natsuki couldn't help but pat his head. "It's still hard when I hear that song, but I'm okay now, for the most part! Anyway, I switched to viola after that. I couldn't abandon music entirely, but the violin was too painful to touch… Not only that, I became afraid of loving people as much as I did."

Otoya visibly flinched, causing Natsuki's heart to clench. If possible, he didn't want to bring this up. He'd rather play the viola for Otoya and make him smile. Was he stepping a line?

"I…" Otoya hugged his knees. "Uhm, how did you get over it?" A veiled question, Natsuki recognized immediately.

"You… meet the right people," Natsuki said carefully. He smiled wryly at Otoya's confused expression. "Maybe this isn't the answer you want to hear, Otoya-chan, but that's what happened to me. You meet the right people who will insist on loving you anyway. Unconditionally, without malice, without expecting anything in return… and slowly, you will love them back."

Otoya clenched his blanket. "But what if…"

"What if you keep meeting the wrong people?" Natsuki asked softly. He ran his fingers down his viola bow. "I admit that's a risk factor. When I started playing the viola, I played with many different people, but none of them felt right. I couldn't enjoy music to the fullest, the way I used to."

"But you do now."

"That's right."

"What changed?"

Natsuki's smile was soft. What changed? People entered his life. Syo. Haruka. Masato and Otoya. Tokiya and Ren, and then Cecil. ST☆RISH. "I found my people. Although… a part of me rejected them at first." A chuckle. A wild and vicious part of him, the one who tried to protect him despite being scared and hurting himself… "But they love me enough to fight for me and stay by my side, time and time again. You'll find yours, too, I'm sure." He ruffled Otoya's hair.

Otoya only nodded. He seemed to want to say something, but Natsuki decided not to push. "And that's my story!" said Natsuki, playing a short victory tune on the viola. His heart cheered when Otoya's eyes twinkled. "Now, should we play more songs?"

"I want to play…" Otoya muttered, then added hurriedly. "Um, can I?"

Natsuki beamed. "Of course! Well, the guitar is too big for you, but…" He tapped his chin. Otoya was curiously staring at his viola. "Oh, are you interested in my viola strings? They're pretty different from a guitar's, but I can teach you! Here, hold it like this…"

The viola was still too big for Otoya, so eventually Natsuki told him he didn't have to put it on his shoulder and hold it like a guitar instead. It admittedly made a very funny sight, but Otoya just looked so adorable, with his clumsy fingers feeling the strings. Should he get Otoya a half-sized guitar? Or a ukulele, maybe? Would that be an impulsive purchase?

The rest of the morning continued in comfortable idleness. Natsuki showed him how to play different notes on the viola strings, and Otoya mimicked the placement of Natsuki's fingers on the fingerboard. Natsuki clapped with utmost joy when Otoya succeeded in plucking all the notes to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

They had to stop after a while because Otoya's fingers had gone sore and his stomach began to rumble. "Wow, we had so much fun that we lost track of time…" Natsuki mused, staring at the Piyo-chan wall clock. "I baked some cookies last night. Otoya-chan can eat one while I get lunch started. How's that?"

"Mn."

"Lovely!" Natsuki extended his hand again. Otoya grabbed it like it was the most natural thing in the world. "To the kitchen we go!"

They found Masato in the kitchen. He was in the process of putting on his pristine white apron.

"Masato-kun!" Natsuki greeted as he took out a container of cookies from the cabinet. "I thought you still had the radio show with Syo-chan."

"Ah, yes, it wrapped up early. Kurusu is off to his next job, but I thought I could return to the dorms for… Shinomiya, what are those?"

"Hm?" Natsuki lifted the lid and placed the container on the table. "My cookies! Otoya-chan is hungry, so I think a light snack is in order before lunch. Just one, okay, Otoya-chan?"

"Uh, Ittoki…"

The cookie was eagerly stuffed into Otoya's mouth, to Natsuki's delight and Masato's look of horror.

A second later, Otoya coughed violently.

"Oh, dear." Natsuki tilted his head. "Do you not like it?"

"Ittoki, don't force yourself." Masato hurriedly extended a hand to Otoya. "Give it here. Shinomiya's tastes… may not suit everyone."

But Otoya shook his head. He even stuffed the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

Masato's jaw dropped. Natsuki's eyes widened, but he was still worried because Otoya was struggling to swallow. "Otoya-chan, are you okay?"

"I'm… I'm okay," Otoya panted, wiping the corner of his mouth.

"Ittoki…" Masato's eyes were almost teary. "You don't have to force yourself to—"

"I like it," said Otoya firmly. Masato made a choking noise. "It's homemade by Natsuki-san, so I like it."

The kitchen was silent for a few beats. Otoya mumbled, "It… uhm, Auntie used to bake me cookies before lunch, and…"

Otoya lowered his head to hide his face, but not before Natsuki caught the tears clouding his eyes. He looked at Masato with understanding and pain.

Otoya thought he would never eat homemade cookies again.

"That's it." Masato tightened his apron. "Ittoki, I'm cooking you lunch."

Chapter Text

Aside from music, what Masato treasured most was family.

His grandfather, his mother, his sister… later, the definition extended to ST☆RISH. He strived to make his family happy in the ways he knew how—he played piano the way his grandfather taught him. He handled the house chores and child rearing to help ease his mother's burden. He styled his sister's hair and followed through with all her (sensible) requests. Loving his father was a hurdle, though, and it was a thought he refused to mull over during his waking hours.

When he sang, played the piano, danced, wrote calligraphy, or simply worked on house chores, the shackles of his past seemed to never have existed. His mind entered a blissful state where all he was expected—and all he wanted—to do was pour his all into his goals. Most of the time, the goal included seeing smiles bloom on the faces of those he loved.

This time was no different. At the sight of Otoya's glassy eyes, some gear activated in Masato's mind. He tightened the knot on the back of his apron and rolled up his sleeves, mentally and physically preparing himself to make Otoya happy in the way he knew would (usually) work. His eyes darted around, locating ingredients and tools. His hands matched the quick workings of his brain with precision.

"Shinomiya," he called out, because he had long mastered the art of working while talking, even if he rarely showed it, "What time do you need to leave for work?"

"Right about now, actually…"

"Ah. I was hoping you could at least join us for lunch."

"No, I'm afraid the company car is picking me up very soon—oh, Otoya-chan, don't make that face…"

Usually, nothing but a major emergency could distract Masato from his work, but this time, he looked away from the stove. Otoya's eyes were wide and pleading, and his lips were pulled into a frown. He clung to the sleeve of Natsuki's sweater for dear life.

"Otoya-chan…" Natsuki did a remarkable job of not bursting into tears. Masato sure was desperately trying to hold back. "I'm sorry, but I really have to go. Only for a while! I promise we'll play again really, really, really soon!"

Otoya clutched Natsuki's sleeve tighter, but he let go right after that. "Okay…"

"Masato nii-chan will cook you a veeery delicious lunch!"

Masato choked. "Masato nii—" Otoya turned his eyes on him.

Natsuki giggled. "Masato is an onii-chan, after all! Oh, my ride has arrived. Bye-bye, Masato-kun! Otoya-chan, can I get a biiig hug?"

Natsuki spread his arms, and he (and Masato) melted when Otoya nodded shyly and extended his own arms. Natsuki wasted no time in enveloping Otoya in a tight embrace. "Squeeze…"

"Shinomiya…" Masato fought to suppress the amusement in his voice, though it probably showed. "Regulate your strength. Ittoki is a child."

"Oh, sorry, Otoya-chan! Well, then!" Natsuki released Otoya from his deathly hug and patted his head. "Bye-bye!"

Once Natsuki left the kitchen, the room turned excruciatingly silent. It had been the same yesterday, when Masato brought Otoya to his bedroom, rifled through old clothes, and modified them to fit Otoya's size. At least Otoya wasn't eyeing him with wariness right now.

For a few moments, Masato could do nothing except return Otoya's near-blank stare. "Uh, you don't have to address me as onii-chan if you don't want to."

The silence was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Otoya blinked in confusion, and Masato winced. How smooth. Where had all his composure as an experienced older brother gone? He recalled Mai's smiling face, but the broken, traumatized boy in front of him was nothing like his sheltered sister. If anything, Otoya's cautiously neutral expression reminded him more of himself.

Masato smiled gently, feeling his eyes curve at the edges. "Ittoki, I'm making curry. Do you like it?"

He watched intently as Otoya's eyes began to show excitement. Otoya opened his mouth, but he settled on nodding vigorously. "That's good." Masato eyed the open container of Natsuki's baked goods. "I know you're probably hungry, but you don't have to eat Shinomiya's cookies if you don't like them…"

"It… it tastes… um…" As expected, Otoya couldn't bring himself to say weird, perhaps out of fear of being called disrespectful. "It's different. But I like it."

Otoya's determination made Masato feel impressed and pained in equal parts. He knew that not even an idol diet could stop Otoya from buying any instant food from the supermarket, but he also remembered Otoya's wide smiles and words of gratitude whenever he slid a plate of homemade toast for breakfast, or whenever he brought soup to Otoya's room on the rare occasion he fell ill. Masato, so used to eating and making home-cooked meals, thought it was a given. Of course he would cook for his friends. It was not a favor or expectation, but simply how things went. But to Otoya, it was a blessing. A reassuring reminder that people still loved him enough to set aside their time, energy, and effort, stirred them in a bowl of ingredients, spilled drops of oil and batter here and there, and served the result in hopes of putting a smile on his face. Otoya looked beyond presentation and taste and instead loved food because of the person.

Masato looked away and swallowed the lump in his throat. "The curry shouldn't take long," he said, wishing his voice wasn't shaky, "but there's some fruit for you to snack on…"

"Can I help?"

"Huh?"

Otoya stared at the patterns on the wooden surface of the table. "The curry. Can I help?"

Masato stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Just yesterday morning, Otoya had been as stiff as a block of wood when Masato helped him change into fitting clothes. That same Otoya was now happier and more loved after spending over a day with four people who cared for him, who cherished him, who were there and repeatedly chose to be there, and his heart filled with hope.

"Of course," he said, voice awfully wet, chest awfully full of familiar, mushy affection. Otoya eagerly hopped off his chair. "Wash your hands."

Otoya joined him in front of the kitchen counter, his little feet pitter-pattering against the sleek, dry tiles, and then…

"Ngh…"

He could barely reach the sink.

Somehow, this did it for Masato. A chuckle escaped him, and he stifled it with a cough. But the amusement in his chest built up the longer he watched Otoya try to reach for the tap, until the laughter spilled out, deep bellows from his stomach that sent streams of warmth through his whole body.

"Masato-san…" Otoya muttered, face turning the same color as his hair.

Seeing his pout and puffy cheeks only made Masato laugh harder. It brought to mind all the times Mai struggled to reach something. Before she could say "please," all she could do was don the same expression Otoya was wearing and wail, "Nii-chama!"

"Masa…!"

Masato wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes. His laughter seemed to echo in the kitchen before it completely dissipated, and Otoya's voice—because, foreign and undeveloped as it may be, it was undoubtedly Otoya's voice—finally registered in his mind.

For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw the grown Otoya—red hair unruly, only a few centimeters shorter—pouting at him like an adorable little brother. But this was the same child he'd discovered slightly over twenty-four hours prior. The broken, timid, and frightened child who called everyone by honorifics. Syo and Ren even claimed they still couldn't recover from being addressed by their last names.

So what did Otoya just call him…? Masato stared at Otoya in stunned wonder.

Otoya quickly realized his blunder. He hid his hands behind his back and hunched his shoulders, as if he wished nothing more than to shrink in on himself. "Uhm, I'm sorry, I…"

"No, it is alright…"

"I'm sorry, Hijrikawa-san"—Masato flinched—"I don't know what—I…"

"Ittoki. Ittoki, hey." Masato kneeled in front of Otoya. "I'm not mad."

Otoya sniffled, a mere few seconds away from crying. "Y-you're not?"

"No." What kind of fear and trauma did Otoya harbor that could trigger this sort of fear and regret after misaddressing someone? "You… you can call me that, if you'd like." In fact, I'd be delighted if you did.

Masato's heart dropped a bit when Otoya firmly shook his head and said stubbornly, "Masato-san."

Masato's hand itched to reach out and pat Otoya's head, but he just barely restrained himself. Otoya needed space right now. "Alright, alright. Then, let's focus on the"—he chuckled—"problem at hand." He went to the adjoining dining room to retrieve a chair. "Not ideal, but at least you can reach the sink more comfortably."

Otoya pouted at him again. Masato's heart melted. He was usually calm around Otoya, so this light and giddy feeling was a novel one. "Anyway, you can wash your hands and help me with the carrots and potatoes." He took the basket of vegetables and placed it within Otoya's reach. Examining the peeler, he decided it was too big and sharp for Otoya.

They worked in awkward silence, only accompanied by running water and the soft sound of blade against vegetable skin. Masato was not accustomed to this situation, not when Otoya was in a room. Otoya wasn't a fan of cooking in the first place, but he usually helped with washing and peeling ingredients if Masato explicitly announced he was making curry. They would work comfortably, with Otoya chatting about everything and nothing.

More than Otoya's regressed boy and mind, it was this silence, believe it or not, that bothered Masato the most—so much so that he decided to strike up a conversation. "Ittoki."

Otoya jolted. 'Y-yes?" He reacted like he was unexpectedly called by a teacher. Was Masato too stiff and intimidating?

"Relax," Masato said dryly, futilely trying to follow his own advice, "I'd just… like to chat, if that's alright with you."

Otoya nodded. "Okay."

Masato smiled softly. "I have a little sister. Her name is Mai, and she's a little older than you are right now." How odd. This past day might as well have been a dream.

"I see."

"Our mother often falls ill, so I've been helping take care of her since she was born. You can say it's easy to feel attached to her because of that." Otoya's hands didn't stop moving. Masato himself wondered where he was going with this.

"Masato-san sounds like a good nii-chan." Otoya's voice was small, but Masato still caught it.

He chuckled. "Thank you. I hope she thinks so, too."

Otoya almost dropped a potato. His face flushed, and he gripped the potato tighter. "Of course she does! Masato-san is so kind…"

Masato's heart was so warm. "Thank you, Ittoki. I try my best." Then, a thought struck him. "You have big sisters and brothers in the orphanage, I'm sure? Are you close?" From Tokiya and Natsuki's update, Otoya had yet to grow close with the siblings his age, but perhaps the older children or adult volunteers had approached and accompanied him. Masato could only hope.

"Mn… Some of the older kids play with us often."

Masato smiled in relief. "Can you tell me about them?"

Otoya thought for a bit. "Um… There are brothers and sisters in middle school who sometimes help with our homework."

"Do they help you out?"

"Sometimes…"

Masato looked at Otoya for a brief spell. "You can approach them for help if you need. I'm sure they won't mind."

Otoya blushed again. "Okay…"

"How about cooking? Do you and your siblings help out in the kitchen?"

"Yeah. We take turns cooking and washing every day."

Masato nodded. "I see. Doing chores with your siblings is also a bonding activity."

"But many kids complain…"

Masato laughed. He glanced at Otoya, who was chewing his lips, and once again his heart was full of warmth and the desire to tease. He dried his hands and thoroughly ruffled Otoya's hair.

"Masato-san…!"

"Haha, sorry," Masato chuckled. Part of being an older brother was knowing how to have fun with your siblings, no? He walked to the fridge and took out a container. "Anyway, we're in luck. I prepared curry roux the other day, so we simply need to cook this."

Otoyaa's eyes widened in amazement. "Masato-san made that himself?"

"Yes." Masato opened the box, showing Otoya the uniform cuts of the rich brown roux.

"Homemade curry…" Otoya muttered to himself, staring at the container like it was worth its weight in gold.

He blinked when Masato moved the box away from his line of sight. "Do you typically use pre-made curry?"

"Yes…" Otoya's voice dropped. "Auntie used to buy them, too."

Masato stole a glance at Otoya's side profile as he filled a deep pot with water. "Well," he began carefully, "Homemade or store-bought matters less than the feelings of the cook. That's what I believe."

Masato's hands moved quickly, finding the pork cuts he'd prepared the day before. As he started slicing onions, he heard Otoya mumble, "Feelings?"

Masato placed the onions in the pot. His deft hands sliced the carrots and potatoes as he talked. "Have you ever cooked, Ittoki?"

Otoya shrugged. "I just… help out like this?"

Masato smiled. "That counts, too. Do you enjoy it?"

The answer came quickly and honestly. "I prefer eating."

His cheeks turned red when Masato snorted. "I suppose that's fair. But when you do help out in the kitchen, how do you feel?"

"Everyone plays around, so…"

Masato picked up on the things left unsaid. The other children didn't approach Otoya, leaving him to deal with washing vegetables by himself. His heart clenched, but before he could redirect the chatter, Otoya added, "Uhm, but I like cooking with Masato-san."

Masato's hands stopped moving for a beat. "Thank you. And thank you for telling me."

"…I think the curry will be tasty, too."

Masato chuckled. "Why do you think so? You've never tasted my curry."

"Because Masato-san made the breakfast yesterday, and that was good."

Masato properly laughed at that. Oh, Otoya sure was an interesting child. Or perhaps he just missed his banter with Mai. "So, to put it simply, it's because I made it."

"Mn."

Masato began stirring the ingredients in the pot when he heard Otoya's inquisitive voice. "Is there a secret?"

Masato's eyes twinkled. "What, so you can make delicious curry by yourself?" He laughed when Otoya looked away in embarrassment. "Well… I can't say there's any secret to it." His hands moved to locate the salt, pepper, and ketchup. He'd made this curry so often that he didn't need to measure. "I simply add ingredients that I figure the person who will eat my meals would like. For example…"

A trip to the fridge, and Masato returned with a small container of grated apples. Otoya's eyes widened. "Masato-san, how did you…?"

"Heh, of course I know." He knew to the extent that Otoya's favored curry ingredients became his—and everyone's—default. He opened the box and offered it to Otoya, allowing the boy to take a pinch of grated apples to stuff into his mouth. Masato proceeded to add some into the mix. "If I didn't know you, Ittoki, I might make a standard curry, without extra ingredients. The curry will still taste delicious, but it will be just like any other." He moved over, allowing Otoya to stir the pot using a long ladle. "When you add your feelings into a dish, that's when you start wondering whether you should add honey, reduce the salt, or increase the spiciness… Things like that make the dish memorable. Whether the roux is homemade or not is not the dealbreaker."

And maybe this was why Otoya said he enjoyed Natsuki's cookies, too. Not that Masato would allow him to eat too much of Natsuki's questionable concoction. "Your aunt's curry," he said gently, "is special, even if she bought the roux. The curry you eat at the orphanage will grow on you in its own way, too."

Otoya watched the simmering broth in silence. Masato could only wish he had delivered his point.

For a while, neither of them spoke, the only sound in the room coming from the simmering and bubbling pot. Eventually, Masato peered into the pot and declared, "We can put in the roux now. Ittoki, would you like to help me with this?"

Otoya nodded eagerly and carefully put the blocks of curry roux into the pot. Two at a time, the way Masato instructed. The delicious smell of curry wafted through the room as Otoya and Masato chatted idly. To Masato's pleasant surprise, Otoya was the one who asked more questions. He inquired about Masato's favorite food, which led to confusion about Masato's distaste for milk, and ended with a lengthy explanation of why he hated green peppers.

Finally, the curry was ready. As Masato ladled them into two plates of fluffy white rice, Otoya's face was the most excited he had seen since his age regression.

"Let's eat—be careful, it's hot."

But the warning came a tad too late. Otoya took his first bite without blowing on the steaming curry, which resulted in fits of coughing. Masato sighed. So, Otoya had always been like this. He silently offered Otoya a glass of water. "Slow down. No one is going to take your food away, so eat as much as you'd like."

Masato didn't miss how Otoya tightened his hold on the spoon. Cold realization sank into his stomach. Otoya's orphanage had adequate funding, but naturally, he still had to share his food with the others and couldn't eat as many portions as he wanted. Especially as a child, being told you had to enjoy your favorite food in moderation must be frustrating.

Silently, Masato scooped more curry into Otoya's plate. The gears in his head turned rapidly for a distraction. "By the way, Ittoki, is there a particular big brother or sister who is your favorite?"

It didn't take long for Otoya to think. "Taku-nii," he said. "He grew up in the orphanage, too. But now he's in… uhm, university."

Masato dug through his memory. Otoya had indeed mentioned someone with that name once or twice. A volunteer who oftentimes sponsored the children in secret—Otoya only found out after he himself aged out of the system. "What about him?" Masato prodded.

"He's kind and patient… He likes cooking for us, then joins us for lunch or dinner." Then, in a lower voice, "He's a bit like Masato-san."

Now it was Masato's turn to tighten his hold on the spoon. "Is that so? I appreciate the compliment."

The faint noises of utensils hitting the plate stopped. "When I grow up…"

"Hm?"

Masato glanced at Otoya and noticed he was talking to himself. His eyes were thoughtful and firm. "When I grow up, I want to be a good nii-chan. Like Taku-nii and Masato-san."

Masato's breath hitched. "I'm sure you will," he muttered under his breath.

Otoya didn't seem to hear. He continued eating as if he didn't just say something that sent a jolt of pain to Masato's chest.

Masato watched with blooming satisfaction when Otoya leaned on the dining chair, well-fed and blissful. He had finished eating a while ago, but insisted on keeping Otoya company as he ate. And when Otoya timidly asked if he could get a second helping of rice and curry, Masato didn't deny him. The relief and gratefulness that filled Otoya's eyes nearly made Masato gasp.

"Thank you for the food, Masato-san…" said Otoya with half-lidded eyes. "It was so, so good…"

"I'm glad." Masato smiled. He peered into the pot of curry. The leftovers were still enough for two people, so he took a picture of the curry and notified the rest of ST☆RISH, in case anyone came back hungry and needed a quick fix. When he checked the group chat, though, he noticed the flood of messages that he had apparently missed.

My shoot is canceled because of the rain! This was from Cecil. I have no other work today, so I am free for the rest of the day. I will return to the dormitories.

Tokiya had replied quickly. Ah, I am sorry your shoot had to be canceled, but it is also a relief to know that someone can accompany Otoya in the evening.

Natsuki followed up quickly. Have lots of fun, Cecil-kun! ✺◟(＾∇＾)◞✺

I hope you won't need it, but good luck… Syo typed right after. I still think about how awkward Otoya was.

He then sent a meme Masato was too uptight and old-fashioned (in Ren's words) to decipher.

Masato glanced up at Otoya, who was quickly dozing off. He would have to keep him from eating right after sleeping, but a nap would be beneficial. He hesitated, his fingers hovering above the keyboard.

That's a relief. I will have to leave in a couple of hours. Aijima, Ittoki will probably be sleeping when you return.

"Ittoki, don't doze off on the table," Masato called out, and Otoya blinked awake. Masato resisted the urge to pat his head and decided to occupy his hands with the dishes. "You can have a nap soon. However, by the time you wake up, I will probably have left, as I need to attend another job."

Otoya pouted, but he was too tired to complain. "Okay…"

Guilt still crept up Masato's chest. "Someone will arrive soon, though. He will keep you company for the rest of the day."

"Who?"

Hands full of plates, Masato paused in thought. He studied Otoya's anxious yet curious expression and smiled.

"Someone you will get along with very, very well."

Chapter Text

When Cecil returned to the dormitories, he found Otoya in his and Tokiya's bedroom, tucked under the blankets and snoring lightly. The person who directed him here—Masato—was reading a script on the sofa.

"Hi…" Cecil whispered, stepping inside the room with light steps.

"Aijima, welcome back," greeted Masato. "Ittoki fell asleep about an hour ago."

Cecil could not help the pout that made its way to his face. "So I just missed him?"

Masato gave a slight smile. "I would say it's good timing. Trying to converse with a sleepy child can be a rather cumbersome experience, as I'm sure you know."

Cecil had to admit Masato was right. He had tagged along with Otoya to the orphanage many times. Like everything else about them, children's reactions to something were a spectrum. When sleepy, some were agreeable enough to be led to bed, but others could be fussy and uncooperative. A stranger—it pained Cecil to think of himself as that—introducing himself to you while you were dozing off must not be a pleasant experience. It was definitely for the better that it was Masato who prepared Otoya for nap time. Though Cecil wished he had seen what a child Otoya was like when he was sleepy…

"You have a point…" Cecil relented. "Thank you for keeping Otoya company, Masato. I will have to thank everyone, too."

Masato smiled deeper in understanding. "You're welcome. However, keep in mind that we all do this for Ittoki because we want to. You shouldn't think you carry more responsibility."

Cecil shifted his weight from one foot to another. He did, in fact, feel an odd sense of extra responsibility that he believed his friends should not carry. Masato had not been in the room when Cecil uttered his thoughts, but he was perceptive enough to sense what Cecil was feeling—that if only he and Otoya had grown up together, the way normal brothers would, Otoya would not have to suffer this much.

"Aijima, are you alright?"

Cecil blinked, sighing. He nodded weakly. "Yes… You are right. We are all accompanying Otoya because we want to. Even so, I still cannot help but feel guilty…"

He could not bring himself to voice his thoughts, not again. But Masato understood enough. "You wish things had been different."

Cecil swallowed. "I do."

Masato sighed. "If only that were the case, right? However, I believe the pain of the past also makes up the person. Does it not?"

"Well…"

Masato turned his head to look at Otoya on the bed. "Once, I thought Ittoki and I were similar in some ways. We run away from the hurt we feel in the past. Instead of confronting it, we only desperately run faster and faster."

Cecil remembered this conversation, when Otoya ran away after his negative emotions piled up too much due to his collaboration project with Eiichi. While his relationship with Eiichi was civil and even friendly now, Cecil still held traces of bitterness about the whole incident.

"After spending time with the child that Ittoki is now," Masato continued, "I can understand why and how exactly he began running. There are moments when the experience left me saddened, but it has deepened my understanding of Ittoki as a friend I care about. I'm sure everyone else feels the same way."

"Masato…"

"Seeing Ittoki now, there are things I wish I could have done for him when he was a child," Masato muttered, seemingly more to himself. "I wish I had cooked for him and let him eat as much as he wanted. I imagine Kurusu wishes he had played soccer with him when no one else had invited him to play. Ichinose and Shinomiya could have taught him the joys of music during his lowest moments. Whatever Jinguuji said to make him cry"—Masato sighed deeply—"why, I have no doubt he wishes to go back in time to convey that to him."

Cecil's eyes widened. Masato must have read and reread the things everyone else reported they did with Otoya.

"We didn't know Ittoki back then, so we couldn't do anything for him when he was deeply hurt. But with this strange occurrence, we can." Masato smiled. "If you would take my advice… Instead of lamenting what could have been, I suggest you spend the time doing what you've always wished to do with Ittoki. Haven't you said that you wish you had an older brother?"

Masato's eyes twinkled at that last sentence, and Cecil fought the heat in his cheeks. He had long viewed ST☆RISH as his family. Growing up as an only child who was thrust into a group where he was the youngest, he secretly enjoyed the feeling of being the baby of the bunch. It was hard to believe Masato still remembered some off-handed comment Cecil had made years ago, but then again, if anyone were to remember, it would be him.

And apparently, Masato had more ammunition to fluster him. "Earlier, Ittoki told me he wanted to be a good older brother when he grew up."

"H-he did?" Cecil sputtered.

"Yes. Well, the circumstances are different now," Masato chuckled, "but the sentiment still stands. This is a great chance for the two of you to spend some brotherly quality time."

And then Masato patted Cecil's shoulder and left the room, saying that he had to get to work.

Cecil sat on the sofa while it was still warm, sinking into the cushions with a heavy sigh. Thinking about it again, it was a good thing he arrived when Otoya was asleep. This way, he had time to prepare himself on what to say and do when Otoya woke up.

He kept expressing his wishes to everyone, but what did he want to do with Otoya, actually?

His mind rattled off activities faster than he could keep up. They were close in age, so he wished they could have learned how to read and write together. He wished he could have crawled into Otoya's bed whenever the thunderstorms scared him at night. He wanted them to sit in the dining room in anticipation as their mother made them Japanese curry or onigiri. And once they were older, he wanted them to flip through family albums and reminisce about their childhoods. Cecil did not even have to be a prince—he would trade his royalty for the mundane things he could have done with Otoya.

Well, some of these things were impossible to do even with Otoya's current condition, but some were plausible. Cecil made up his mind, and that was when the blankets rustled. He knelt by Otoya's bed in a second.

Cecil had had sleepovers with Otoya in the past. He was familiar with how Otoya woke up—he would stretch his already-sprawled arms and legs, mumble, "Few more minutes…" but spring out of bed not even a minute later. He spotted these same traits now, albeit with slight differences. Otoya still stretched, but his arms and legs were previously curled in on himself. He mumbled something unintelligible, but he rose from bed quickly. And the most noticeable of all was how lethargic and reserved Otoya was, instead of the bundle of energy Cecil was used to.

"Good morning, Otoya," said Cecil, despite the fact that it was well past noon.

Otoya blinked drowsily. His droopy eyes stared at Cecil. "Uhm… Aijima… san?"

Cecil visibly flinched. Being called so formally by Otoya, of all people? Call him dramatic, but he would have to commiserate with Syo and Ren soon and learn how they were coping…

Otoya noticed his discomfort. "I'm sorry," he said hurriedly. "Cecil… san."

"Do not worry about it," Cecil said, heart pounding. "Hi, Otoya! I hope you had a nice rest!"

Otoya hummed and looked around the room while rubbing his eyes.

"Masato has left for work," Cecil supplied. "Tokiya is away for work, too. Did he tell you he will not return for the night?"

Looking down, Otoya swung his dangling legs. "Yeah…"

"Then, how about a sleepover with me?"

Confusion and curiosity danced in Otoya's eyes when they met Cecil's own. "Sleepover?"

"Yes! I do not have a roommate, so it gets lonely sometimes." Here, Cecil gave a pout, which quickly turned into a smile as he extended his hand. "How about we play in my room?"

The delight Cecil felt when Otoya reached for his hand without hesitation sent an indescribable warmth to his chest. Together, they walked to Cecil's room. With every step, Otoya gripped his hand tighter.

Cecil fought to control the hurt and joy raging in his chest. He knew Otoya did not like sleeping alone in a room. After all, he had had roommates for over half his life—first the kids in the orphanage, and later Tokiya. It was common for Otoya to declare an impromptu sleepover in his or Cecil's room whenever Tokiya was away.

But… there must have been a time when Otoya slept all by himself. There must have been a time when Otoya slept in a bed much too big for him, in a room much too quiet for him, feeling all alone and helpless after his aunt passed away. Cecil squeezed Otoya's tiny hand to chase away the thought.

They reached Cecil's room, its layout very similar to Otoya and Tokiya's own. Two beds were on either side of the room, one left unoccupied after Camus moved out, thank the Muses.

Otoya gravitated to Cecil's side of the room and began scanning the shelves. Books on Japanese grammar, a collection of Japanese folktales, Japanese recipes from magazines and newspapers, music scores… Otoya's eyes skimmed past everything and landed on the bottommost shelf, where Cecil kept his photo albums. He curiously poked the spine of one of them.

"Do you want to look at my photos?" Cecil asked. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled a random album out of the shelf and beckoned Otoya to join him on the bed.

It happened to be the album containing photos of his work as an idol. Candid pictures from live stages and interviews, photoshoot projects both of himself and others, variety shows he attended, educational programs he starred in…

"Look, here is everyone!" Cecil pointed at a picture of ST☆RISH in their latest live. Otoya inched closer, recognizing most of the faces. Natsuki was on the leftmost side of the lineup, with Cecil on the other end. Cecil watched as Otoya's fingers traced the outlines of Ren and Syo, followed by Tokiya. And there, in the center, holding Masato and Tokiya's hands with a blinding smile, was Otoya himself. How much would Otoya recognize his grown self, looking so cheerful and loved?

"Is this… ST☆RISH?" Otoya tried the unfamiliar word.

"Yes! This was from our latest concert."

Otoya looked at the picture with what could only be described as longing. "…You all seem close."

"Of course! We see one another as family."

"Family…" Otoya traced the picture again, causing Cecil's heart to squeeze. "I…"

Otoya closed his mouth and continued flipping through the album in silence, but Cecil could guess what he wanted to say.

So he said it. "Otoya is family to me, too."

He did not expect this simple sentence to prove to be extremely effective. Otoya's eyes sparkled, and he looked at Cecil with hope and adoration. "I am?"

"Yes! I have always seen Otoya as my brother," said Cecil, fighting not to let the truth slip out. The rest of the world did not know of their deeper connection, and it would be better for their careers if it remained so. So, as much as Cecil wanted to call Otoya "nii-san" to show closeness and playfulness, he had to hold back.

"Then…" Otoya fiddled with his thumbs. "Can I… can I call you Cecil-nii?"

Cecil's jaw went slack. No, actually, his whole body might as well have been mush. "Yes," he breathed out, at the same time Otoya rambled, "Uhm, that's what we call the older brothers in the orphanage, so it just came out, sorry…"

"Otoya." Cecil forced a smile, even though internally he was screaming at fate. "Yes, I can be your Cecil-nii, if you want." In exchange, when you return to normal, can you be my nii-san?

Redness spread across Otoya's tan cheeks. "T-then… Can you tell me about your family?"

Cecil's smile faltered. His family, and especially his parents, was a sensitive topic he and Otoya rarely discussed. When they did talk about it, he always had to tread the delicate line between nostalgia and hurt. Why did Otoya, who just lost his family, want to know about…

Oh. It was the orphanage's tradition, wasn't it?

Cecil learned about this in one of his visits to the orphanage with Otoya. There was a child therapist who frequented the orphanage every few months. She encouraged the children to talk about their past family situation if they knew about it. It served as a healthy outlet, better than bottling everything up. Otoya said that he'd seen children who became more comfortable in telling one another about their families after that. They accepted it as part of their history instead of something shameful or upsetting that they had to hide. Surprisingly, it also became a way for them to bond over similar experiences.

Had Otoya started talking about his family? Was this why he was asking Cecil the same thing? He wanted Cecil to open up first, before he felt safe enough to do the same…

Cecil made up his mind. "Even better, I can show you!" He hopped off the bed and pulled out a photo album from the shelf. This one held his family pictures, which mostly covered his childhood and adolescent years.

Otoya was practically pressed to his side when he opened the album. The warmth from that tiny body gave Cecil strength, preventing his voice from shaking. "I am actually half-Japanese. My mother is Japanese, born and raised, but my father is the king of a faraway country of music, Agna Palace."

Otoya's jaw dropped. "Cecil-nii's dad is a king?"

Cecil giggled. He faintly recalled that Otoya had a similar reaction upon his first meeting. "He is. Look, this is him." He pointed at a picture of himself decked in Agna's fanciest traditional garments. Next to him was his father, a tall and well-built man with dark hair and a calm, regal smile.

"Then, you're a prince?" Otoya asked. Cecil nodded. "Why did you become an idol, then?"

"Well, it was a long story… I was cursed by the other members of the royal family." Cecil pursed his lips as he stared at a spot on the wall. He had no pictures of them, and he would rather keep it that way. "They do not like that I am half-foreigner. So they cursed me into a black cat."

Otoya's gaping mouth only grew larger, but he drank up Cecil's words without a drop of disbelief. Even when Cecil told ST☆RISH about his curse, Otoya was the first to declare he believed him. "You were a cat?" Otoya's voice was hushed in amazement and wonder. "How's that like?"

Cecil laughed. "There are nice things about it, but there are weird times, too. I could easily climb trees and see in the dark. But I became afraid of water." He frowned at that. Getting adjusted to water again was a slow and turbulent process. "By some chance, I ended up at Saotome Academy and was adopted as a stray cat by Haruka. Do you remember her from yesterday?"

Otoya nodded. "How did you go back to a human?"

"Haruka broke my curse with the power of love and music!" Cecil playfully tapped Otoya's nose. Whatever curse fell upon you, I know we can break it, too. "After that, I was officially scouted to join the agency by the president, Shining Saotome."

Otoya did not need to be reminded about Shining. "He's… kind of scary."

Cecil chuckled dryly at Otoya's blatant honesty. "Yes, and many people agree."

"But… I think I've seen him somewhere."

Cecil looked at Otoya, who was frowning in thought. Otoya had said this to Shining's face, and Cecil had pushed the matter out of spite, but Shining waved them off.

He actually knew why Shining seemed familiar to Otoya, though. Shining Saotome had been Otoya's benefactor in secret. He must have attended Otoya's aunt's funeral and made arrangements for Otoya to enter the orphanage. Maybe in the short time Otoya had been in the orphanage, Shining had made several appearances. Cecil thought this was the bare minimum as Otoya's biological father. Not that he could fully forgive Shining for everything else.

Still, this was not something he could tell the current Otoya—it was not his place. "I see. Do you remember where or when?"

Otoya thought harder, but in the end, he shook his head and shrugged weakly. He refocused his attention on Cecil's photo album, and his eyes landed on…

"Is this Cecil-nii's mom?"

Here we go. Cecil prayed to the Muses for strength. "Yes! This is my mother, A—"

Wait. He could not say her name, could he? Otoya already knew his—their—mother's name. The first time Cecil accidentally said it in Otoya's vicinity, it led to a shocking and tearful realization of their connection. It had left Otoya shaken and hurt, despite already feeling secure and loved by ST☆RISH. Cecil could not imagine how this child Otoya would react if he knew. In the end, as much as Cecil wanted to assure Otoya that he still had his biological parents, he would not put him through the emotional pain of knowing why and how they left.

So Cecil only joined Otoya in staring at his—their—mother's picture. He knew Otoya mostly got his looks from his father—Cecil had choked on his drink when Tokiya showed him a picture of Saotome Mitsuo that he had discovered—but looking at Kotomi, and then at Otoya's young face, he could see the faint similarities. The high cheekbones and full cheeks, the red hair, the ear shape, the curve of their eyes when they smiled, which Cecil also inherited… "Isn't she beautiful?"

"Mn," Otoya said without tearing his gaze away. If he recognized Kotomi's similarities with his aunt… well, Cecil would not know what to say.

Whatever Otoya was thinking about, though, he kept it to himself. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he flipped the page. There was Kotomi again, with a newborn Cecil in her arms.

Did Otoya have his pictures taken as a newborn? Were there pictures of Kotomi holding Otoya lying somewhere in a dusty album? Who recorded his first smile, his first steps, his first words? Cecil would never know. The only people who knew were gone.

He decided the silence and the voice in his head were too loud. "Most of my family dislikes me, so my mother is the closest person to me. After all, we are both seen as outsiders. But even then, as I was growing up, I could never spend long moments with her."

Otoya frowned. "That's not fair…"

"I know." Cecil smiled bitterly. He loved Agna with all his heart, but he was very grateful for being in ST☆RISH now, where he always felt included and belonged. "But we always made the most out of our time together!"

"What did you do?"

"Singing, mostly! Mother loves to sing, and she can write songs, too! Maybe that was why Father fell in love with her."

Otoya gasped. "Auntie and I did that, too!"

There it was, Otoya's first mention of his family. Shared experiences, Cecil thought. He took this as a good sign. "Amazing! What kind of songs did you like to sing?"

"Lots of songs! Auntie knew all the children's lullabies."

Cecil's smile bloomed. "My mother liked to sing me Japanese lullabies, too! She was also the one who taught me Japanese."

Otoya's mouth formed into an O. He glanced at the row of Japanese grammar books on the shelf with renewed understanding.

Cecil flipped the page this time. He laughed at the picture that greeted him—his child self, maybe eight or nine, sitting inside a crate full of fruits and vegetables. He wore a cheeky expression as his hands held up the lid. "Mother likes going to the street markets herself, and I love tagging along," he explained. "Then she would make me Japanese dishes."

"What's your favorite?" Otoya asked.

"Onigiri!" Cecil said, turning the page to show Otoya a photo of him and Kotomi rolling rice into triangular onigiri. "I like how they can have different fillings and are easy to carry and eat."

Otoya nodded. "I like curry," he said without being asked.

"Curry is also nice!" Cecil agreed. "Mother makes curry for me sometimes." And so do you. Both are really, really delicious.

They continued going through the photo album, with Cecil doing most of the talking.

"First birthday, first steps… Oh, this was the first time I wrote my name in kanji. I think I was around your age."

"Aijima… It's really like my mom's name."

Cecil did not let Otoya mull over it. "Then it must be fate that you call me Cecil-nii! Oh, this was taken on my birthday. The royal family and palace servants hid their dislike of me to hold a celebration. Should we hold a huge party for you, too, Otoya?"

"Uhm… Sounds cool."

"I will let ST☆RISH know, then! Oh, this was not a particularly festive moment, but it was special for me. After the rain, Mother and I like to sing and dance outside. The rainbow and the bright blue sky always make me feel like the clear skies are sending me a message of joy and love."

"That's fun… I don't like rain either."

Cecil smiled, his hand gravitating to pat Otoya's head. "It was indeed fun! I wish Otoya could have joined me."

"Mn… Cecil-nii's mom looks very kind."

A lump was stuck in Cecil's throat. "She is. And she would love you lots."

Otoya looked up at Cecil shyly. "Cecil-nii thinks so?"

"I know she would!" Cecil nodded with conviction. "I wish I could take you to meet her! We should plan a trip to Agna." He was making dangerous promises, but he could not stop himself. Kotomi did not remember her firstborn at all, but how wonderful it would be if Otoya got even the slightest bit of closure.

"…Yeah," mumbled Otoya, running his finger through the pages of the photo album.

"Well, until then…" Cecil caressed Otoya's messy hair. "I can do those things with you."

"Huh?"

Cecil looked out the window. It had been raining when he arrived at the dormitory, but the rain had stopped at some point. All that was left were the clear blue sky, the droplets of water dangling from the tips of leaves and branches, and, if Cecil opened the window, the fresh scent of the damp earth.

"Perfect timing." Cecil grinned, carefully taking the album from Otoya's hand. He grabbed both of Otoya's hands and tugged him to stand up. "The rain has stopped. Let's go, Otoya!"

They hurried to the gardens, Cecil walking so briskly that Otoya had to jog to catch up. When Cecil opened the double doors, the calming scent of nature surrounded his senses. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and relaxing his shoulders. Then, he guided Otoya to step into the clearing. Surrounded by lush bushes and trees from all sides, he began to sing.

It was a traditional song from Agna, a song to thank the Muses for the fine weather that inspired the birth of many songs. While singing in his native tongue, Cecil inadvertently began to dance. His hands and feet moved naturally, almost instinctively, without his brain having to direct them. His arms extended, his feet made a turn, and his lips were curved in a blissful smile as he danced to a rhythm only he could hear, no, feel reverberating in his chest.

When Cecil finally opened his eyes, Otoya was staring in awe. Before he could say anything, Otoya blurted out, "Can you teach me?"

Cecil smiled widely. "The dance?" Otoya nodded. "Come here, then!"

Otoya was initially stiff when Cecil guided his arms and legs. Where to step, where to position his hands, where to look and turn his head… But he relaxed after a while, and before long, Otoya could dance on the beat as Cecil sang a short passage.

"Amazing! Otoya is very good at this."

Otoya scratched his cheek. "No, Cecil-nii is a good teacher…"

Cecil sighed with a smile. That was because he had years of experience practicing how to dance, sing, and even breathe with Otoya. He kept this fact to himself.

They continued dancing and singing under the clear sky. Cecil showed him more Agna dances, and he was extremely delighted when Otoya said he wanted to learn a dance from one of ST☆RISH's songs.

"Make a fist and hold it in front of your mouth, like this!" Cecil laughed as Otoya clumsily tried to maintain his hold on the imaginary microphone as he danced.

The sky had turned orange by the time Otoya's stomach rumbled. Seemingly forgetting the mic he was supposed to be holding, Otoya clutched his stomach in embarrassment.

Cecil giggled. "Dinner after a dance practice is always great! Shall we eat? Masato said there is leftover curry."

The promise of curry made Otoya perk up. He took Cecil's offered hand, and together, they walked to the dining room. Cecil watched in amusement as Otoya practically inhaled the reheated curry. After all that dancing, he must be starving.

While Cecil was doing the dishes, an idea struck him. "Otoya, do you know how to make onigiri?"

Otoya paused from his activity of drying the spoons. "I can shape them, but they don't turn out good."

Cecil laughed. "Well, what matters is the taste, right? I saw some leftover chicken in the fridge. How about we make onigiri after this? We can eat it for breakfast tomorrow."

Otoya's eyes widened, and Cecil swore he almost, almost smiled. Though he had so much fun with Otoya today that he had forgotten that was the objective.

They chatted about Japanese food as Cecil prepared the rice and seasoning. Once the rice and filling were ready, he and Otoya sat at the dining table, shaping the rice into triangular shapes.

"Position your hand like this," Cecil said, showing his own C-shaped hand. "Otoya's hands are small, so your onigiri should also be around the same size. Yes, like that!"

In the end, Otoya's onigiri still turned out messy, but Cecil laughed it off. "They have character! When I was a child, my onigiri also turned out like this," he assured. "But Mother assured me they still taste delicious. Try one!" He offered one small onigiri to Otoya and ate one himself. Humming, he placed the onigiri in a container and stored them in a cabinet.

They returned to Cecil's room after that, where Cecil read out loud from the collection of Japanese folktales that Tokiya had gifted him. Otoya sat next to him and joined him in looking at the pages, but with the lack of pictures and mostly kanji characters, Otoya was probably mostly listening to his voice.

Cecil was secretly delighted. He read rather slowly, so he was often asked to read to the smaller children at Otoya's orphanage. When Otoya was not occupied, he sat on the rug, listening to Cecil with the same look of interest and awe that the children shared, no matter how many times he had heard the stories before.

This was how they spent the evening. When Cecil finished reading the last story in the book—an elderly couple who cut open a large peach and found a baby boy—he noticed Otoya was fighting off sleep. "Tired?" Cecil asked softly. "It is close to your bedtime."

"Mm…" Otoya mumbled. Sleepiness made him clingier, Cecil noticed, melting when Otoya raised his arms.

Cecil did not need to think twice—he scooped Otoya into his arms. "Now, now, you have not taken a bath! Up you go!" He carried him to the bathroom easily and pointed at the various soap and shampoo bottles that originally belonged to Otoya. Cecil just never returned them because Otoya often spent nights in his room, anyway. Earlier this morning, Tokiya had even dropped off the small toothbrush he had bought for Otoya.

When Otoya exited the bathroom, he was clean and ready for bed—in fact, he was swaying where he stood. Cecil laughed, directing him to the empty bed that Otoya used whenever he slept over. Cecil took a quick bath (with a sponge and lukewarm water, because he still avoided the bathtub), but when he reentered the bedroom, he found Otoya on his bed.

"Otoya…" Cecil sighed with a smile, approaching the boy who had made himself comfortable in Cecil's pillows and blanket.

"Can I sleep here?" Otoya said in a tiny voice. Though with how he held Cecil's pillow tightly, his request bore no room for argument.

Otoya was quickly drifting off to sleep, and Cecil did not have the heart to move him. He could only sigh again. "Okay."

The bed was spacious for one person, so the addition of Otoya was nothing. Yet Cecil's chest felt tight. Did Otoya like to climb into his siblings' beds? Did they comfort each other after a nightmare? Why couldn't Cecil have done that with his own brother?

Cecil shooed the thoughts away. He might not have been there for Otoya then, but right now, this same Otoya called him "Cecil-nii". He asked about Cecil's family and talked about his own. He requested Cecil to teach him how to dance. He chose to sleep close to Cecil. Cecil could not be any more grateful.

He turned off the lights and climbed into bed next to Otoya, sleeping on his side. Instinctively, his hand reached out to rest on Otoya's small shoulder and patted it rhythmically. He liked to do this to the children in the orphanage. It helped lull them to sleep.

"Cecil-nii," mumbled Otoya sleepily.

"Yes?" Cecil replied, eyes closed.

"I had a lot of fun today. Thank you."

Cecil's eyes snapped open, and he gasped. Even in the dark, even with his limited night vision as a human, he could see it.

Otoya was smiling.

Not just a slight curve of his lips. Not just some twinkle in his eyes. The wide smile stretched his cheeks and reached his eyes. Cecil had seen this smile countless times on the Otoya he knew and loved, but this one felt so very special.

After saying that, Otoya closed his eyes, and his breathing evened. Soon, he fell asleep completely, the smile still on his face.

Cecil was not sure if he had blinked even once through all that.

The responsible thing to do would be to spring out of bed, grab his phone, and tell ST☆RISH the good news. Or maybe he should reply to Otoya, even if he could not hear. Some of the kids in the orphanage asked for head pats as they drifted off to sleep, and Cecil should probably do that. He wanted to.

But he could not do any of this. All he could do was hold Otoya's shoulder tighter as his other hand reached for Otoya's own.

Moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating the two brothers who finally found rest. As the moon peeked from the window, she became the only witness to Otoya's peacefully slumbering face and Cecil's tears on the damp pillow.

Chapter Text

Otoya woke up to a pretty awkward situation.

For one thing, he was in Cecil's room. This was pretty common, but he'd never slept on the same bed with him. Yet here he was, clearly on Cecil's bed. The owner was still snoozing next to him, hand clasping his own.

For another, Otoya's clothes were too small for him. The shirt he was wearing rode up his stomach, fabric stretching and seams threatening to open. If Otoya raised his arms, he would surely hear a ripping noise. He didn't even dare to check the state of his pants. At least he was covered by a blanket.

And then there was the rush of memories that surged into his mind the moment he opened his eyes.

To be honest, it felt like a very long dream. That must have been it, right? He was super exhausted after… what had he been doing? A variety show where he had to rock climb, was it? Yeah, that. The physical and mental toll must have been too much, so he slept for two days straight and dreamed he was a child again. Made sense, no? People often dream about their past, right?

But then… It didn't explain why he was wearing children's clothes (from high-end brands, no less). It didn't explain why he was in Cecil's room, on Cecil's bed, when he could've dropped unconscious on his own bed (and he was sure he had). It didn't explain the dampness on Cecil's pillow… Was he crying? Why was he crying?

So, he had to accept the weird experience as his reality. Somehow, he had reverted to childhood, his mind and body going back to the time he just got into the orphanage. And then… and then ST☆RISH took turns keeping him company. Syo played soccer with him. Ren took him shopping. Tokiya sang to him. Natsuki taught him how to play music, and he willingly ate his cookies—heck, he still remembered the taste, too. Otoya held back a gag. Masato made him his favorite curry, and Cecil…

Cecil talked about his—their—mother. Then they danced together, made onigiri together, read storybooks together…

And he smiled for the first time in months.

Otoya remembered that time in his life. Losing his family, entering an orphanage, believing everyone he loved would abandon him… He remembered keeping his distance. He pushed people away. He couldn't smile no matter what. The process of regaining his happiness was very, very slow, involving the orphanage director, volunteers, and many sessions with a child therapist.

ST☆RISH achieved it in two days. On top of that, with patience, empathy, and love, they broke whatever spell made him a child.

Otoya looked at Cecil's sleeping face and felt the sudden urge to hug him breathless.

But, uh, before that, he should probably change his clothes.

He carefully let go of his hand, which Cecil had been holding. Cecil wasn't a light sleeper, but loud noises could still wake him up, so Otoya tiptoed around the bed, opened Cecil's dresser with as little noise as possible, and picked up the first shirt and pants he saw. Whether it was Cecil's clothes or Otoya's own that got mixed in after all their sleepovers, he didn't know. He'd stopped keeping track.

Once Otoya was dressed properly, he returned to Cecil's bed and began the tried-and-true ritual of waking him up.

"Cecil…" Otoya poked Cecil's cheek.

"Mm…"

"Cecil, wake up."

"Five more minutes…"

Otoya snickered. In five minutes, the poking would turn into relentless tickling. He decided to spare Cecil this morning. "Come on, wake up!"

Cecil mumbled something that sounded like a "no", but it could also be a "nya".

Otoya tried another tactic. He walked around the bed and lay on it again. Supporting his head with one arm, he lay on his side and said, "Cecil-nii."

He counted four full beats before Cecil's eyes snapped open. One look at Otoya was all it took for him to scramble up. His arms and legs were tangled in the blanket, but he could only gawk at Otoya.

"O-otoya?!" Cecil squawked, voice a notch higher than usual.

Otoya grinned. "Good morning!"

Cecil kept staring at him in disbelief. "You… you are back…"

"Yup! Good as new!" Otoya patted his chest. He scratched his cheek as his face turned serious. "I also... remember everything."

"You do?" Cecil looked flustered.

"Hey, why are you embarrassed? That should be me! The things I said…"

"No, Otoya was a very adorable child!" Cecil tilted his head and smiled at Otoya. "I enjoyed being your Cecil-nii."

Now it was Otoya's turn to blush. "Uhm… thanks? And, uh, thanks for taking care of me."

"You are welcome! It has truly been a pleasure. I am glad I got to know the little Otoya."

Okay, Otoya was sure the redness on his face deepened. "Sorry if I caused too much trouble…"

"Non!" Cecil said promptly. "It was no trouble at all. You do not even have to worry about messing with our schedules."

Gratefulness and love filled Otoya's chest and spread to his whole body, but a part of him still felt uneasy. "Still, if there's anything I can do… Like, it's not that I want to pay you back for your troubles, but I also wanna make you guys happy, you know?"

Cecil's eyes twinkled with an idea. If this was Ren or Tokiya, or even Syo, Otoya would've been more worried. But surely Cecil wouldn't ask for anything impossible?

"Then… Otoya, I want you to allow me to call you nii-san."

Otoya's eyes widened. "Cecil…"

"I know you think it is awkward," Cecil began, "and I understand you do not want me to get too used to it and accidentally call you that when we are in public. But…" He paused, wringing his hands. "Yesterday… was really fun for me, too. I… I know there is no use for me to apologize for not being there for you when we were young, but I still feel bad sometimes. But yesterday made me feel closer to you. It made me very, very happy."

Otoya didn't know what to say. Cecil kept talking. "I will be careful," he promised. "I will only use it when we are alone. And I will not call you that all the time, but it would be nice to address Otoya as my brother some—Otoya?"

Otoya had cut him off with a hug. He wrapped his arms around Cecil tightly. "Mn," he whispered, afraid that his voice would break if he said anything more. "Okay."

Cecil tentatively wrapped his arms around Otoya's torso. "You… you mean it?"

Otoya found his voice. "Yeah! After going around calling you Cecil-nii yesterday, you deserve it."

Cecil giggled. "Thank you! Then… I will be in your care, like always, nii-san."

"Ah…" Otoya's voice immediately cracked. Moisture filled his eyes, and he quickly hid his face on Cecil's shoulder.

He was no stranger to being called an older brother. He had always been "Oto-nii" to the kids at the orphanage. But finding out he had an actual blood brother, being addressed as such, and knowing that this family of his wouldn't leave him…

Otoya hugged his brother tighter. "Me, too, Cecil. Let's work hard together!"

Otoya announced his comeback to ST☆RISH by snapping a selfie with Cecil and sending it to the group chat, captioned, The sleepover was a success! He sent the message from Cecil's phone because his own was still in his bedroom, untouched for two days.

The reaction was immediate. Happy messages from Masato and Ren, a barrage of cute stickers from Natsuki, and a string of keyboard smashes from Syo. Tokiya had also read the message, but instead of replying, he knocked on Cecil's bedroom door soon after the message was sent. He was patient enough to wait for Cecil to open the door for him, but apparently not patient enough to at least drop his work bag in his own room.

"Otoya." Tokiya's voice was breathless. His shoulders rose and fell, like he was running to get here. Maybe he did run. Tokiya sometimes had a flair for the dramatics.

Otoya met Tokiya's stunned stare with a grin. "To~kiya, did you miss me?"

Tokiya huffed, quickly regaining his composure. "If that is what you want to believe, sure."

Otoya chuckled. Well, Tokiya didn't deny it, did he?

With a concerned frown, Tokiya continued, "Otoya, I will be honest. You gave us a bit of a scare."

Otoya's smile turned more somber. "I know. Sorry."

"It is not your fault," Tokiya said immediately, then looked away. "And… well, I did not say it was not enjoyable for me."

"Oh, I'm sure you enjoyed it. You sang for me! You sang with me! Aaah, Tokiya is so nice!" Otoya grinned again, watching Tokiya purse his lips. "Oh, I remember what you said, you know? About how you acknowledged me at school! To~kiya, you should've said so!"

"Oh, you remember that much…?" Tokiya was now pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please forget about it…"

"Nope!" Otoya hopped off Cecil's bed and bounded over to Tokiya, who wasn't fast enough to avoid his hug. Behind him, Cecil giggled. "We should sing in our room more often, Tokiya! I didn't know you could sing Amazing Grace so well!"

"I… well, alright," Tokiya sighed, hiding a smile of his own. "But you play the guitar next time."

"Ahaha, of course! Hm?" There was a knock on the door. Cecil went to open it, and Otoya's face broke into another smile. "Ren! Masa!"

Ren put a hand on his chest dramatically. "Oh, Ikki, you grew up so quickly…"

Masato stepped into the room. "Ittoki, I'm glad to see you're well." Then, to everyone's surprise, he reached out a hand and ruffled Otoya's head. "Shall I make more curry to celebrate?"

"That'd be awesome!" Otoya nodded, snuggling into Masato's hand. He was enjoying Masato's head pats way too much. Quickly, he pulled Masato into a hug. "Masa's cooking is always great. Thank you."

Masato wasn't one for physical shows of affection, so Otoya was glad to find out he was very relaxed today. "My pleasure, Ittoki."

"I'll help out when you cook again!"

Masato chuckled next to his ear. "I hope you no longer have to stand on a chair, then."

"Masa…!" Otoya let go of the hug and pouted to more peals of laughter. He turned to Ren, who was still at the door frame. "Ren… Thanks for the clothes. I'd pay you back, but…"

"You know I won't accept," said Ren, holding his palm up.

Otoya smiled. "Yup, I know you won't. Uhm, but the clothes I wore this morning… I think I almost tore them."

Ren shrugged. "Just a little collateral damage to get our beloved Ikki back. Besides, Hijirikawa can fix it. Won't you?" Masato only scoffed at that, but Otoya knew he would ask for the clothes later, already armed with a needle and thread.

Speaking of, what would he do with the clothes? Donate them to the orphanage? Keep them as a memento of this magical experience?

Otoya's idle thoughts were interrupted when Ren said, a bit more seriously, "Also… Well, I already got an earful from Icchi and Hijirikawa, but I still need to say it. Sorry I made you cry, Ikki."

Before Tokiya or Masato could say anything, Otoya hugged Ren. "Nah, don't be sorry. It was… nice. Cathartic, in a way. I really needed it. Thank you, Ren."

Ren laughed, patting Otoya's back. "Then, I'm glad."

Otoya hugged Ren tighter, basking in the feeling of safety and assurance that always came when he was around ST☆RISH's oldest.

"Oi, oi, what's all this?"

"Oh, is Otoya-kun giving hugs? I want one, too!"

Ren and Otoya turned to the new voices. "Syo! Natsuki, too!" Otoya exclaimed.

Natsuki was close to jumping up and down. "Otoya-kun! You're really back! Aaah, I'm so glad!"

"Ahaha, yup! Thanks for playing with me yesterda—ow, ow, ow, Natsuki…" Otoya didn't even have to initiate the hug before he was being crushed half to death.

"Oh, sorry!" Natsuki loosened his hold. "Welcome back, Otoya-kun! Oh, or do you prefer Otoya-chan, still?"

Otoya didn't miss Ren's snort and Syo's twitching eyebrow. "Uh, the usual's fine…" he wheezed next to Natsuki's ear. "Natsuki, thanks for yesterday. I'm glad we could play music together, and I'm glad you talked to me about your past. What you said really stuck with me. I felt… more assured, somehow."

Natsuki whispered back, "I'm glad it could help you." And then, even softer, "Have you found the right people?"

Otoya pulled back. "Yeah," he said, looking into Natsuki's eyes, then sweeping a glance at everyone in the room. "Yeah, I have."

The light hitting Natsuki's glasses made his green eyes look even softer. "That's wonderful."

Otoya grinned. "Natsuki, we should play more duets! With the guitar and viola."

Natsuki clasped his hands together. "That would be amazing! I'll bake us cookies right after."

"Uh, you don't have to go that far…"

"Nothing of the sort!" Natsuki beamed.

Otoya shuddered. He appreciated Natsuki baking cookies for him, but maybe he should get Masato to oversee the process. He turned to Syo for backup.

"Tch, I'm really not suited for all these gushy moments…" Syo clicked his tongue when all eyes turned to him. "But, uh, I'm glad you're back, Otoya."

"Thank you, Syo!" Otoya grinned. "And thanks for being the first to volunteer to hang out with me. You… probably had it the most awkward."

"Tell me about it!" Syo groaned. He tackled Otoya, circling an arm around his neck and pulling him down. He lightly pressed his fist against Otoya's temple and twisted it around. "Never call me Kurusu-san again, you hear?!"

Otoya laughed, his head buckling under the pressure of Syo's relentless hand. "Of course, Syo!"

When Otoya was finally released from the hug, his cheeks and stomach were sore from all the laughing. He stared at ST☆RISH with slightly glassy eyes as immense warmth seeped into his chest.

"Everyone," he said, as if they were backstage before a live, "I'm sorry I made you worry."

He bowed to the protests and cries of, "Please do not apologize," and "You don't have to feel bad!" and "It's not your fault, Otoya-kun!"

"I know, I know." Otoya straightened up. "But… still, I made you worry. It's… I still feel bad, and I gotta work on that…"

"Hey, healing isn't gradual! No worries," Syo interrupted.

Tokiya sighed with a smile. "We understand."

Otoya smiled back and continued, "But… I also feel grateful. I know I was very… different from what you're used to. But you guys accept me despite that."

"Because it is still Otoya," said Cecil.

Natsuki nodded. "The happy and sad parts of you, both are still Otoya-kun!"

"You guys…" The tears were threatening to spill. Otoya didn't know if they were tears from all the laughing earlier or new ones that formed because he felt so, so happy.

"We have established this countless times, and we will continue reminding anyone who needs it," said Masato. "If one of us is in trouble or upset, we all will lend a hand."

"No matter how big or small the trouble is, figuratively or literally." Ren winked. "Don't hesitate to come to us, Ikki."

Otoya's cheeks were officially wet now. "Mn! Thanks, everyone! Thank you so so so much!" He threw his arms out, beckoning everyone close.

Cecil was the first to hug him back, saying, "Always, nii-san!" in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Ren and Masato laughed when they heard this. They joined the embrace, Ren messing up Otoya's hair and Masato wiping the tears from Otoya's eyes. Natsuki squealed in excitement, pulling an exasperated Tokiya and a secretly teary-eyed Syo into the group hug.

Otoya was effectively crushed by six people, but he didn't care. He didn't even register it when Natsuki tightened his hug, and everyone began yelling in unison. All he felt was the love that seeped from everything his senses could recognize. ST☆RISH's touch, their peals of laughter, their soft smiles…

Otoya's own lips curved into a smile. From now on, he would never lose it again.