Chapter Text
He finds the note half-tucked away in the depths of his drawer, the bottom of which had not seen the light in years. Buried beneath old sock puppets and crumpled drafts of performance scripts — a piece of paper carefully folded and hidden away.
He's curious when he opens it, being unable to remember writing anything like it. A note lined with small, careful characters, each one written with deliberate care.
'This belongs to Tenma Tsukasa.'
Slowly, going over it once, and then twice, the words that he reads are pitiful and oozing with plaintiveness; an apology for his failings, an earnestness accompanied by a desire to do more, to be better.
There's a strange tightness in his chest that squeezes the air out his lungs. His hands tremble at the unobtrusive words written in black gel pen, bringing to life a boy without any of the boldness that he had come to be associated with.
At the end, a hopeful utterance signed off with wistfulness, perhaps even a tinge of bitterness.
'I want Saki to get well soon. I want Papa and Mama to smile again. I want us to be happy.'
It's a reality that will come to be, because Saki is home now; well enough to attend school regularly and rekindle the friendships she had lost over the course of her countless hospital stays. The furrow between his parents' brows is gone. There is never a dull day with his friends at Wondershow.
Somehow, for better or worse, his wishes had been granted.
But as he sets the note gently on the ground, standing from where he'd gradually sunk to his knees while reading, his furrowed eyes meet his reflection in the mirror across the room.
The house is lively. He can hear Saki on a video call with one of her friends again, discussing about anything and everything from music to cafes to class gossip. There is the faint cluttering of pots from the kitchen, the drone of the television in the distance.
The boy in the mirror stares back with knowing eyes; widening the distance in the gulf separating him from his family.
The note by his feet written by that pitiful ten year old boy had only ever been selfish.
You have no right to feel alone or upset.
"I don't need anything more," he murmurs quietly. "Saki's healthy now. Everything's okay again. I'm a shining, glimmering and glamorous star. I'm happy. I am."
A bleak heaviness settles over him, a weight that had perhaps always been there, that now sinks into his very being. Phantom laughter, hands over his eyes, the world greying at the edges. A boy, sitting alone in an empty home, waiting.
"Saki! Tsukasa! Come down and eat! Dinner's ready!"
He jerks, blinking slowly as he unclenches his trembling hands.
"Coming!"
The note, folded back into a neat square and set back into that drawer; tucked away and shut with a lock and key, never to be spoken of again.
Just forget.
He travels down the stairs of his room and sits at the dining table, laughing boisterously as his sister shares about her day and his parents joke around with teasing banter.
The atmosphere is light, the house warm with the knowledge of long battles won and finally overcome. Tsukasa Tenma is happy. Happy.
You won't ever be alone again.
The boy in the mirror watches quietly, left behind.
And it begins quietly, with a home that'd been lively, warm and bright.
In the days diluted by routine and mundanity, a domesticity that'd been privileged before, a paradigm shift occurs as his sister asks over dinner one day, "Can I have dinner out with Icchan tomorrow?"
He sees his mother frown, hesitating over her next bite of food.
"Why?"
"Icchan wanted to show me a new restaurant she found near Scramble Crossing. Apparently they have good sushi there?"
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" His father presses. "You've only just been discharged."
"Please? I promise I won't overdo it! I just really want to go out for dinner for once!"
And it was evident then that the quiet comfort of routine hadn't truly set in yet. He saw it in the way his parents continued to hesitate, and how Saki began to wilt.
Chiming in, he laughs. "Why not? It sounds fun!"
"See?" Saki beams at his response. "If Onii-chan says it's fine, then it really will be!"
His parents share a look. A split second reaction that has them eventually shaking their heads fondly and ultimately agreeing, endeared by Saki's wide-eyed hope.
He let his trembling hands cling tightly around his cutlery, a smile fixed firmly in place. Unease hidden behind the facade of easy confidence, a faith that everything would be okay.
And it goes well.
Dinner goes well. Saki is well.
And maybe the paradigm shift hadn't ever been the beginning, only the means to an end. More and more nights where Saki would come home later, swarmed by part time jobs and study dates and dinners out with her friends. More and more nights where his parents, in light of Saki's recovery and their newfound confidence in her stable condition, would begin to go out on nightly dates again, indulging in each other's company.
Once, he'd thought – you won't ever be alone again.
That picturesque canvas of joy and warmth greys gradually, inevitably, to a reality he is familiar with, in the home that he comes back to day after day — empty and waiting, like the last flickering remnants of flames in a crackling fireplace, leaving nothing behind but ash. A reminder of what once was.
But he smiles all the same, laughing and welcoming his family home with open arms, doing chores during those quiet afternoons to ease the idea of home into a mindless afterthought.
Maybe it was easier this way, to pretend that he hadn't already realised just what it all meant – to let the epiphanies set in slowly. A gradual descent into quicksand without struggle, entrapment sinking its claws into him, until he's left none the wiser about the possibility of escape. Reality, as it is, after the grace period of days right out of a dream, in a world where his family is whole and he is never alone — where he is happy.
And there is an answer there to be found – a wordless question yet to take form, quiescent yet malleable. Lingering quietly in a world out of his fingertips, knowing eyes, the sound of airy laughter. A voice he knows, but does not want to remember.
Hands pressed over his own, gently squeezing.
Intangible and warm.
Fleeting.
Unreal.
He dreams often of vibrancy, a colourful wonderland of unpredictability and fun. Shows with endless laughter, so warm he wishes it would never end.
The weight of a gaze unsettles him. He turns to find a worn plush, hidden behind one of the countless trees interspersed throughout. Quietly unobtrusive, quietly waiting. Colours muted as the dream sinks into grey, silence ringing in the scream of the void.
The plush toy stares through the flickering form of a lion, with fur the washed out colours of orange and pink, uneven stitches lining its seams.
"You've forgotten me, haven't you, Tsukasa-kun?" It smiles back at him.
Who are you?
An unbidden name on his lips, with words he cannot quite speak. There is a question there to be found, an answer he won't ever give; what he'd tried to forget, that he'd never once forgotten all along.
The fleeting intangibility of an unspoken desire, a coagulating presence that lurks in the shadows of his vibrant dreams, whispering — I won't ever leave again.
In the space beyond, a veil he'd shifted and shut away, the slow sinking of feigned ignorance, the way he dreams—
—and awakens all the same.
Morning comes, as it always does. Sunlight scintillates through the open windows. He sits at the table, watching the world pass him by — anticipation in the syrupy air, a distancing sort of pressure that hadn't been as present before.
"Onii-chan, you're going to be late, you know?"
He blinks back to awareness with a startled yelp, nearly toppling over his glass of juice as he jerks his head to the analogue clock on the kitchen wall.
"Huh?"
The very picture of eloquence.
Saki frowns lightly, reaching out to place a hand over his forehead, concerned. "Are you feeling unwell? You've been zoned out for the past ten minutes."
Startled by her worry, he smiles and shakes his head. "No, I'm alright! I think I just had a weird dream or something last night, though I can't remember anything about it."
An odd sense of knowing, a tightness in his chest without release — the search for something that leaves him starkly off-kilter.
He barely manages to keep the smile on his face, taking hulking gulps of his juice before swallowing down the last few bites of toast and standing to leave for school.
"I'll be going now then, Saki! See you tonight."
"Ah... Wait a minute!" Saki interrupts abruptly.
Pausing in his motions of picking up his schoolbag, he turns towards his sister, looking sheepishly amused.
"What is it?"
"I forgot to mention it earlier, but I'm going out for dinner with Icchan and the rest again. You don't have to wait up for me."
His expression melts into surprise.
"Again?" he asks, confused. "Haven't you already been having dinner out with Ichika for the past few days already?"
He's distantly aware of his trembling grip on his bag, knuckles white. It's an odd feeling; a heavy weight collapsing in on his chest, gut twisting in unease — a feeling almost reminiscent to betrayal.
Saki nods, beaming. "But I'm fine, Onii-chan! I haven't had any flare ups or been sick recently, and I just really, really want to spend time with my friends again outside of school!"
She blinks at him with imploring eyes, mistaking his bewilderment for concern. And he doesn't correct her, feeling all at once endeared and ashamed to have been hesitant.
"Alright then!" he forces out, easily enough. "So it'll just be me, Mom and Dad tonight?"
Saki shakes her head. "Mom and Dad will be home late too. Just have dinner on your own, okay? Make a proper meal! Just because I'm not there doesn't mean you get to skip out on eating healthily!"
The flickering image of a dimmed room; a boy and an empty house, a friend seated across him on an empty chair. Plates set out — a dinner for one. The boy with downcast eyes, taking small bites out of a plate with food. Waiting. Always waiting.
The strange heaviness in his chest grows to bring a tightness in his throat, a dread that weighs down on his entirety.
Strange... It's almost like I felt....
"Onii-chan, you're zoning out again!"
He blinks away the thought.
Saki chides. "You'll really be late if you don't leave right now!"
"AHHH! You're right! I'm off then, Saki!"
The memory fades out of mind. He tucks away the odd heaviness, the sense of unsteadiness. It melts into distant apathy, until he is able to smile again with greater ease.
It doesn't matter.
Focusing instead on each step forward, letting the motions of sprinting towards Kamiyama High. He makes it —just barely— before the late bell, and heaves from the exertion.
"Nice save, Tsukasa-kun!" His classmates titter and tease good-naturedly about his haggard appearance.
The sound of laughter melds into the background. He smiles easily, yells a little too loudly, and his classmates converge around him with light-hearted cheer.
Just forget.
"Ne, Tsukasa-kun! I'm going down to see your show this weekend — Wonderland x Showtime, right?"
"AH!!!! Thanks for the support, Amane-kun! Truly, your taste must be of the finest quality, to appreciate this star's talent!"
"Ah... Not so loud, Tsukasa-kun... Also, my name is actually Akane?"
"HA-HA-HA, NO NEED TO BE SHY, AYAME-KUN! I, TSUKASA TENMA, AM ALWAYS DELIGHTED BY A FAN!"
Swept away by the atmosphere of grins and laughter, there isn't anything to worry about. His classmate groans, head in his palms, as chuckles resound around them.
They smile back at him as he grins, laughing with vigour. And he's happy like this, even if apathy paints the words he spills forth with falsities and honeyed pretence. He doesn't think of the sinking weight – doesn't think of epiphanies and the reality of the greying world around him.
Forget it all.
(It's the only way to be happy.)
He returns to an empty home, refrigerator light casting a dim glow over the darkened room. A single cling-wrapped plate of fried rice with a note on top; an apology for yet another night away from home.
'To the best older brother in the world: We'll eat dinner together tomorrow :) Mom promises to make all your favourites!'
"Ah, well, I guess it can't be helped!" He shrugs. Nonchalance colours his words, a casual acceptance in his tone, breezy and light. He sets the plate in the microwave, watching the minutes slowly count away.
The microwave beeps. He sits at the dining table, taking a bite of the heated meal, and smiles. "As expected of Mom. Her cooking's as amazing as usual!"
His voice echoes loudly across the empty space, reverberating back to him. The inward hunch into himself is involuntary. He cringes at the sound grating on his ears, before straightening immediately, catching himself in his ungraceful act.
"You're a star!" he chides. "You can't be acting so unsightly!"
Then quieter still, that distant part of him that lingers even as he averts his eyes to the emptiness around him, thinks — tomorrow.
We'll have dinner together tomorrow.
He takes another bite.
The reality of a world gradually bleeding of colour. A hand shielded over his eyes, blocking it all out. Laughter, silence, a name he cannot quite remember, whispering—
("You've forgotten me, haven't you, Tsukasa-kun?")
Another bite.
Another smile.
A boy, sat in an empty home; a dinner for one.
And he is happy. The weight of joy, tightening his chest like a vice, settling in his stomach — even if it happens, again and again and again; coming back to an empty home, reheating yet another home-cooked meal, yet another favourite of his. He's so, so happy.
(You won't ever be alone again.)
Just forget.
He smiles.
I've never once been lonely.
He sits by the benches along Wonderstage, a wry smile fixed on his face as his gaze flickers between the different attractions around him.
"Tsukasa-kun?"
The world comes back gradually in waves. First, sound; a note of concern laced with the nonchalance in Rui's voice. Colour comes next, vibrant bursts of light from the attractions of Phoenix Wonderland. Purple catches his eye, the gleam of ochre in that scrutinising gaze.
He snaps back to awareness with a mild jump, blinking as he turns to stare at the rest of the group, having not realised that the discussion that'd been going on had slowly tapered off into silence.
"Ah, sorry. I was lost in thought for a bit. You can continue!" he mutters sheepishly. There is anticipation in the air, a curiosity that peers through those watchful eyes that settle upon him.
"You've been distracted lately," Rui starts, a hint of disapproval in his tone.
He frowns. "Just because I was caught daydreaming one time doesn't mean I'm always distracted, Rui."
Inevitably, his shoulders begin to hunch. He stares back with fire in his eyes, bracing himself accordingly for the onslaught of teasing.
"No, Rui's right." Nene interrupts. "You've been off lately."
At her words, he blinks, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you're quiet for one. And you get this weird pinched expression on your face at times. It makes you look more pathetic than usual."
"Hey—!" he snaps, taken aback and a little more than mildly offended when Emu giggles and even Rui quirks a wry smirk at the insult.
Nene raises an eyebrow, daring him to retort. He sighs, refusing to take the bait, muttering begrudgingly. "I've just been thinking about things lately."
An off-handed retort ("Wow, first time?") has his eyes narrowing as Emu elbows Nene with a force seemingly hard enough to bruise, making her wince.
But though Nene puts on a show of disinterest, he catches the unspoken in her unaffected performance, the concern that spills forth nonetheless.
"Share with the class, Tsukasa-kun," Rui urges, and there's a look in his eyes that he can't quite decipher. "Maybe we can offer some advice."
"Yeah, Tsukasa-kun! We're here for you if anything's wrong!" Emu beams. She leaps forward to cling tightly onto his arm, even as he grumbles and tries to edge away.
And there is a bubbling feeling in his chest, familiar in its warmth – the quiet contentment of being cared for, even when it's so obviously his fault for being distracted, for letting thoughts he cannot quite articulate bring down the mood of their practice sessions.
He's happy that they care. That's why there is a heaviness settled upon his shoulders, why his stomach churns at the scrutiny of their gazes. It's because he's happy, so perhaps that's why he says—
"—Ah, it's nothing to worry about! I was just thinking about the script, you know? Surely such a dazzling star like me couldn't possibly have this little lines!"
Just to watch Nene roll her eyes to the high heavens, Emu bursting into delighted giggles.
And yet, Rui does not say a word. Not a single one.
"Oi, you alright, Rui? Need water or anything?" He frowns, stepping forward a little at the conflicted expression flitting across Rui's face; out of place and strange, bringing with it a jolt of panic within him.
Rui blinks, before smiling enigmatically. "No, I'm alright."
"Are you sure?" he pushes.
"Well, Tsukasa-kun, if your concern is having too little lines, I could have something arranged to give what little stage time you have be more... impactful. Befitting of a star."
An unconscious shudder travels down his spine.
"No, no, no thanks! The last time you offered I nearly died from one of your crazy inventions!"
"Fufu, isn't that the goal, Tsukasa-kun? It's what they say, right? You only start living once you've experienced the thrill of death!"
"I live life just fine without death, Rui!"
Practice dissolves into laughter, of warmth and vibrancy, colours bursting across a land of happiness where people are happy and smiling and light on their feet all the time. There is no sadness here, nothing to worry about. All his troubles could almost be easily set aside and forgotten.
Emu clings onto his arm, staring up at him with stars in her eyes. Rui chuckles fondly at her antics. Even Nene murmurs quietly, looking more relieved. "As long as you're alright."
And so, he smiles.
"When am I not?"
Tsukasa Tenma is happy.
("Liar.")
"I'll be going now!" His sister grins, pigtails bobbing lightly as she tugs on her shoes and shuts the door behind her. She leaves before he can say much more than a stay safe, and he swallows down all the words he wants to say, the heaviness in him that brings about an odd sense of defeat.
He doesn't say, but I cooked dinner for us tonight.
He doesn't say, I wanted you to stay.
"Well!" he chuckles instead. "I'm glad Saki's feeling okay. It's good to be energetic!"
The house is quiet. He turns on the television, letting the sounds wash over him like white noise. Lights flood the empty dining room. He sets out a meal for one, settling in and humming lightly to fill the silence in the air.
It's his favourite ginger fried pork dish, still warm from the microwave, and those familiar written words on a hastily scribbled words: I'm sorry Tsukasa, your dad and I can't make it back for dinner today too. Another day, okay? It's a promise!
White noise and flickering lights. He takes another bite, going over his lines for the next Wondershow in his head between the mouthfuls. His smile fixed firmly in place.
"Tsukasa-kun," a voice calls out to him from where his phone is set at the edge of the dining table. Light and airy, in that familiar cadence, though without its typical vigour. "Wanna chat for a bit?"
"...Miku?" He blinks as the blue glow of a hologram fizzles into view.
Miku grins, hair flying crazily from the force of her jumping forward to press right into his face. "Hi!"
He just barely resists the urge to flinch. "Ah...! Too close, Miku! What's going on? Need me to call Emu or something?"
"No, silly!" She laughs. "I'm here for you!"
He grimaces. "Um, no offence, but why?"
"Because we used to talk like this allllll the time! Don't you remember, Tsukasa-kun?"
("I'm the only one who will never leave.")
...Huh?
"We did?"
Crossing the distance to sit right across him at the dining table, she glances back at him with guileless eyes.
"We did," Miku says simply, and staring at him with a fond expression on her face, she looked almost human. "You can ask me anything you want, Tsukasa-kun."
He hesitates.
A question to be found; words unable to be said. Hands pressed over his own, a world he cannot quite remember.
"Then... Miku, can you be honest with me?"
The notion of an epiphany settles over his shoulders — a familiar weight, encompassing and a constant reminder of all the things he'd rather forget; all the things he has forgotten.
You've done this before, a part of him thinks. You've remembered before, and then you chose to forget.
Why?
Miku's smile is small and playful as she hums thoughtfully. "When am I not with you, Tsukasa-kun?"
A low buzzing in his ears. The sound of phantom laughter. In the dim light, Miku's form seems to stretch, looming over his wavering self.
"Just... what am I forgetting?" he mumbles. "You know, don't you? Just like how you knew what my True Feelings were."
"Tsukasa-kun," Miku interrupts sharply, even as her smile only grows. A muted sort of energy in the air, one that precedes the heaviness in her next words.
"Are you sure you want to know?"
He pauses, startled, before brushing past the warning in her words. "Just what exactly am I forgetting, Miku?"
"That's not something I can tell you."
"Why?" he snaps, standing abruptly as the dish in front of him rattles from the force of his hands slamming onto the table. The sound jerks him out of his reckless outburst. He reaches out to set the plate away from the edge, safe from the possibility of breaking.
A heaving breath in, and he continues. "You said you would be honest, Miku."
Miku stares, considering. She tilts her head slightly, a hint of teeth showing in her coy smile, and says nothing else.
The jolt of frustration is unbridled. He turns to walk away, leaving his phone behind.
"Forget it. Treat it like I didn't say any—"
"Ne, Tsukasa-kun. Come to the Sekai for a bit. Maybe you'll find your answers there – in the world that you created."
And he doesn't turn back, even as his hands begin to clench, twisting into the material of his sweater. The heaviness that settles over his shoulder is a reminder, yet another warning.
("Are you sure you want to know?")
He surrenders to the feeling, and feels a rush of sensation washing cooly over him. Carnival music, lights and vibrant trees stretching on for miles. An illuminated night sky. A space untouched with no one in sight.
"Follow me!" Miku laughs playfully, not waiting for a response. She skips along to the hum of an off-tune song he can't quite recognise as he scrambles to catch up.
"Oi! Miku! Wait for a minu—!"
"If you want to know what you're forgetting, you'll have to keep up, Tsu-ka-sa-kun~"
The colours gradually meld into a technicolour blur. A visage of happiness and cheer, even its neon glow fades gradually to a monochrome lustre.
She leads them through the various attractions, weaving her way skilfully past the murmuring plants, then stopping so abruptly he hardly stops himself from slamming into her back.
"Don't stop so suddenly! Were you trying to kill me?!"
"We're here."
The sight in front of him registers.
A blue curtain obscures the entrance of a lone building. Small and structured, lingering amidst the silence with no laughter or sound or any life at all. Static white noise in his ears, an oppressing sort of pressure that is crushing in its familiarity.
Miku lifts the curtain, revealing a room with grey walls and half-tiled floors. Boxes unsealed but unopened, worn plushes with their stuffings spilled out of their bodies — in so much worse condition than even the shabbiest of plushes he would usually see wandering around the Sekai.
"Hello...?" he calls out to them, heart twisting at the pitiful sight.
The plushes do not move.
"Silly, silly Tsukasa-kun! They can't hear you like that! They're asleep right now. Shhhhh." Miku presses a finger to her lips. The dim light casts an eerie glow in her eyes, something mysterious and larger than life captured in her crinkled grin.
"Why.... Why are they asleep?"
"Hm..." Miku hums thoughtfully. "Who knows?"
He flinches, feeling wrung out and struck off-kilter.
"Why are you doing this?"
Storming forward to meet Miku's playful gaze, he gives into the intensity of his emotions, even as Miku only smiles and asks simply.
"Doing what?"
"You're just— just fooling around, joking and laughing and— what happened to these plushes, Miku? Why are they asleep and not out there, having fun with the rest? Why were they shoved here to be forgotten?"
"I think you already know why."
He freezes. "What?"
Miku takes light skipping steps into the room, picking up a stray plush and cradling it to her chest. An elephant, missing a single button eye.
"You know exactly what this place is. What you're feeling right now. Your True Feelings."
The typical air of light-heartedness around her has been displaced by a heavy maturity that she'd never once expressed before.
"Are you happy, Tsukasa-kun?" she asks, and waits patiently for an answer, even as he hesitates, staring at the grey room with wide eyes instead.
A single orange worn lion with a faded pink mane sits atop one of those dusty boxes. It stares at him, the only plush conscious in this dark room. Awake but unmoving.
He doesn't say a word.
"I see!" Miku laughs. "Don't worry, I understand."
She drops the elephant in her arms to the ground, and it is crudely forgotten. Pouncing onto his floundering self, she wraps her around around him like a particularly playful chimpanzee, wild joy in her eyes once more.
"Then let's go play, Tsukasa-kun! Go, go, go! I think Kaito's practising another show for us! Ne, ne, doesn't that sound exciting?"
Just forget.
Isn't it easier that way?
He smiles.
"Okay, okay, let's go take a look since I'm already here."
"Yay~!" Miku cheers, leaning in to glomp him tighter. Her tinkling laughter rings by his ear, a melting lilt that lends him its focus, until the heaviness fades away.
A hand presses into his own, warm and fleeting.
Intangible.
Warm.
("You can't run forever, Tsukasa-kun.")
He turns back to the vibrant wonderland of his Sekai, the world he created, filled with joy, so much joy, and only laughter and music to be shared.
"I'm happy, Miku. Those things in that room. Those don't belong to me."
She smiles teasingly, poking his cheek playfully with her free hand, the other still being swung around his shoulders. "Heeeeh? What room, Tsukasa-kun~? Did you hit your head too hard?"
"Ah... Nothing then. Forget I said anything."
"Roger~!"
("But when you do, look for the note. Look for me.")
He dreams of worn eyes staring at his hunched frame. His hand in a vice-grip, clenched tightly around soft fabric, the back of his palms is tickled by the sensation of fur.
A body settled heavily on his own, propped against the dining chair, against his trembling frame.
"I'll always be here for you, Tsukasa-kun." A voice, airy and soft, entrenched with an edge of knowledge that sets a heaviness upon his shoulders.
You left me in the end.
The ghost of a smile, accompanied by a tinkling laugh. Just like how he'd always imagined it to be, in those stories he once told.
"I never left, Tsukasa-kun. You've only just forgotten me."
A room that is small and grey, where he settles behind the boxes, stacked to act like looming tower walls. His arms clinging onto armfuls of plushes, who stare up at him with wide glittering button eyes.
He puts them on the ground.
Stay, he warns, a finger pointed sternly at them.
A ferret makes a sad crooning cry. An elephant wilts, ears dropping. The other plushies follow suit, pawing at his legs or making muted snuffling sounds.
Ten years old. He's too old for these toys now, for these feelings.
"Are you ready to go, Tsukasa-kun?"
The only one left.
The lion watches with a gleam in their eyes.
"Yes," he says quietly, even as his hands tremble, wrung tightly together.
"Is that so~?" the lion hums, light and airy, unaffected by his wavering voice. "Then, let's go play now. We have more shows to make, don't we?"
"Mm. Let's go—"
The dream falls away, like it always does.
He jerks his eyes open, an unbidden name upon his lips.
"—Miku."