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Rain patters on the train window in unsettled wind.
Tsukasa gazes outside of it, earbuds in, phone playing absolutely nothing but silence.
He sits in the corner seat of the four-seater cabin. He keeps his shoulder turned slightly, walling himself off from the other three who fill the other seats.
His three friends of their troupe.
The trains rounds a bend and sways small.
The talks of WonderlandsxShowtime goes on without him as they play quiet games with one another and converse.
He had missed their cue.
Their promotional show at a well-respected resort regularly used for prospective business within the Ootori family - and he had missed his cue.
He doesn’t know what happened.
He’d been confident, brimming with anticipation, eager and prepared.
They had blocked and rehearsed to perfection, determined to bring the Otori family some semblance of pride, and in this faraway distance from their city and homes, this deep in the mountains, Emu's brother had gone with them.
Shousuke was nothing like Keisuke, but he had offered a good luck and mentioned he'd be in the audience watching with a possible future business client or two.
"Then we should triple our efforts to wow the crowd," Rui had mused, eyes alight.
"Shouldn't we be wowing the crowd triple the effort every time we perform?" Nene had countered, somewhat exasperated.
"Yes, of course. Come Nene, you know me better than that. I'm only thinking of how we can more. I wonder if there's time to devise something."
"I'm asking you. Please stick to the script."
The curtains had raised.
The show had gone on.
Tsukasa, as he always did, had been backstage behind the curtain, mouthing the lines of the rest of his troupe as they went on beneath the dazzling lights of the grand wooden, curtained stage and performed like nothing else.
A scene between Nene, Emu and Rui had been unfolding before his attentive eyes.
They were performing with gusto. Incredibly.
Nene and Rui had begun to sing. A small duet, light-hearted.
Emu would soon join in.
A twirling, easy jazz number would break out, lighter steps for the lightest dance as they sung together about possibilities of the future; of life and hopes and dreams to re-awaken the passion Emu's character, Alice, had lost.
Tsukasa had watched them, smiling, warmly, preparing to interrupt the trio’s gathering with a scoff and sneer as he in his villainous role was meant to do.
But he hadn’t.
He had felt himself still smiling but his legs hadn’t moved.
And his thoughts had suddenly emptied.
His friends on the stage had been... shining so vivaciously.
Nothing at all like the motley crew when they had first started out on the rundown wonder stage full of mishaps, uncertainties and griefs.
They’d outgrown that small space.
They had exponentially grown, in confidence, voice and grace.
There was little Tsukasa needed to do nowadays but lend a listening ear to their ideas and give his support and ‘the clear’.
Little more he needed to do but ensure those of his tiny group had everything they needed to succeeded.
More than often, his troupe went into the SEKAI for their own errands, personal curiosities, conversations with KAITO and the others; to have time for themselves away from the world or to simply have musing fun.
He would hear about those adventures of Nene, Rui and Emu later when they all met, and he would smile and be glad they’d enjoyed themselves, and have a flitting thought to himself of a question of what would happen should the SEKAI one day be gone.
It was that which had caught and stilled him behind the curtains of that stage.
That one day, his troupe:
Their shows, their travels, their happiness together - moments performing like this - would soon be a memory that could only be recalled.
He had already known, however, that this was the future laid out for them ahead.
One of separation, beginnings and ends.
They’d already discussed it, multiple times before.
So why…?
He had thought back then.
Why?
He had thought again, as his missed cue had prolonged and Rui's eyes had gone towards the curtains and back of the stage and met his own.
A simple beat of a second.
Nene had picked up right away something was wrong and began to adlib. Emu, understanding without words, put renewed excitement into her character, playing along, asking Nene once more to sing and dance a tune with her.
As they had led the show, Tsukasa had taken one step back.
Then another.
And another still.
He hadn’t known the sort of expression that had been on his face; only that his heart had been full to bursting with so much pride and love and gratitude towards the three that had changed his life, had changed him, for the better, that his throat had grown stuck with fear.
He had fumbled.
He had vanished from Rui's sight.
He hadn’t returned to the stage.
He had stumbled weakly down steps, then more steps, then swiftly moved across the floor to a dark, dark corner cluttered in unused props, extra stage materials and boxes and buckets.
There his legs had given in and he had slumped in the crevice of the wall between the thrumming heater and a costume rack where he touched his forehead to his trembling knees and folded his shaking arms over them and his head to block out the lights of the venue and muffle the sound of ongoing performance from his ears.
He hadn't been alone for long.
His phone was what he'd forgotten to remove from his pocket before the show, having spent time showing KAITO and Len and Luka the grandness of their stage and auditorium.
So he'd been able to feel when a pale, blue hologram had worriedly flickered to life somewhere in front of him, though he refused to lift his head to see it.
"Tsukasa-kun?" Miku had asked.
But he hadn't answered.
Eventually a hand of his had fumbled out and reached down and shut his phone off without answering.
In the deafening silence that had followed afterwards, Tsukasa had breathed in.
And breathed out.
And accepted his chosen absence from the show.
The show that went on without him, uncaring of his weaknesses; his fright - until it would come to its end.
And it had. Eventually.
As all things did.
His face had remained buried, in the muddled darkness only the protection of his arms could give, for a long time after.
But soon had come the soft walk of stage boots across the floor, the sound of shifting props, the clothes racked eased aside, and a soft, easy hand that had fallen to rest on the crown of his head.
"Tsukasa-kun. The audience is leaving now," Rui tells him; voice a gentle cadence without ire. "Are you well enough to stand?"
Yes, of course, he had said in his mind, but his mouth hadn't opened and he hadn't moved an inch, and a quiet had fallen, solemn but kind, as he felt Rui's eyes stay on him in the lack of answer given.
Hesitant footsteps had drawn near then, and Emu's voice - not close, but not too far - had worriedly asked:
"Tsukasa-kun, should onii-chan call for a doctor? He's asking."
Doctor.
The word had dredged Tsukasa upwards from the murky pit of which his mind had fallen to, and he had pulled himself together enough to lift his head, stand, look at neither Emu or Rui, and go to meet Shousuke - wherever Emu's big brother would be.
He hadn't needed to go far.
Shousuke had already been walking in the direction of the corner Tsukasa had tucked himself into earlier, phone in hand, Nene following close behind.
"No doctor," Tsukasa had said.
"No doctor," Shousuke had repeated, coming to a halt in front of him and giving him a skeptical look over.
They hadn't called for a doctor, and Shousuke had sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling out, before leading the way for their troupe away from the stage.
Tsukasa had all but clung to his shadow, to avoid confrontation or questions from his friends who walked slower a short distance further back.
In the quarters where they'd been staying in the resort, on the other side of its entertainment venues, for the weekend, the four of them had been sharing the same room, splitting two beds.
But that night, Tsukasa had only sat on the edge of the bed shared with Rui, frowning at the carpeted floor.
The others had milled around the room, getting showered, changing, removing accessories; stowing them carefully in protected bags, and Tsukasa had been all too aware of their glances, their lingering stares, the words unspoken in closed mouths, on the edge of silent tongues.
What happened to you?
Why did you mess up?
The show was ruined.
These were things they would have never said, yet Tsukasa heard them nonetheless.
So he had risen, left the room without a word, and gone down the hall where Shousuke had bunkered down in his own small, personal suite.
Surprisingly, Emu's brother hadn't said a word asking why Tsukasa had been standing outside his door with nothing but his phone in hand.
Shousuke had simply taken a step backwards before jerking his head in the direction of the bathroom, telling Tsukasa to shower, use the extra brush and towel, and to 'try not to drown'.
On autopilot, Tsukasa had done just that.
And as the water of the shower had run behind him, he had stood in front of the long bathroom sink, fully-clothes, whispering apologies to his phone as its screen flashed and it turned itself back on. Miku had quietly worried back, shoulders dropping, wilting as a drooping flower.
"I'm alright. I'm sorry for what I did."
"Tsukasa-kun, Miku doesn't care about that. Does Tsukasa-kun want to talk? Miku is here for you."
"No, I'm - I'm feeling tired. I should shower - and - go."
He had, without another word.
His phone had stayed silent afterwards. Privacy given; whether it was the work of KAITO or MEIKO, Tsukasa hadn't really known.
But by the time he had come out, undrowned but no less miserable, exhausted and wet, there had been ordered room service on the desk.
"Eat," Shosuke had said from where he lounged still dressed in a turtleneck and slacks on top of the sheets in his bed.
He'd been flipping through the channels with zero interest in what was flashing on the screen, and Tsukasa in the here-and-there bursts of noise and silence, had pulled out the desk chair, sat blankly - and ate.
He had curled on the couch facing the TV beside the bed after being made to brush his teeth and wash his face a second time, then Shousuke had tossed over two pillows and a thick blanket, and the two of them had watched a documentary on creatures of the Deep Sea as thunder had buckled the clouds and rain had broken outside the window.
To the droning narration of the TV, Tsukasa had bundled himself up tight, and let the warmth and noise of the TV lull him to sleep.
Their train had been boarded early the next morning at four A.M.
The rain had stayed. The platform had been wet.
The smell of damp earth, wet asphalt and luggage had followed them into the private cabin reserved in their name.
Shousuke had made sure they were seated and settled before departing for his own cabin in a different car.
"It's six hours back. Stay out of trouble. Text or call if you need me."
Silence between Tsukasa, Nene, Rui and Emu had only lasted for a minute after Shousuke had gone.
"Tsukasa-kun, were you with my brother last night? Did you sleep alright?"
"Yeah. I slept well. I feel better."
Tsukasa had said it while looking straight down at his phone and the homescreen of his personalized Youtube, melancholic and sunken in a mood though he really had slept well- considering he hadn't dreamt of a single thing but darkness.
He had felt Nene's gaze on the side of his head from where she had taken the seat on his right, and had felt Rui's from where he had taken the seat in front of him, and he had heard, more than saw the frown in Emu's words as her eyes sat on him from her diagonal angle across.
"Tsukasa-kun..."
"I'm sorry about the show," he had said. "I'm glad you guys were able to save it."
Because they had - without him.
Emu's head had shaken, her frown had bent down and down, upset.
"It's not the show I'm thinking about. I don't think you're feeling okay."
"I'm fine."
"That may be, but perhaps you should try and get some more rest," Rui had suggested, and it was a clear way of telling them all without telling them all that perhaps it was best to the leave the questions for later and leave Tsukasa be.
Conversations had slowly started up between his friends afterwards, none which tried to involve him.
He'd felt somehow more miserable because of it, but grateful.
A card game. Three rounds.
A multi-player racing game on their phones.
The rain had droned on.
The train had rattled, rolling forward beneath the heavy clouds.
A long tunnel passed through.
In the utter darkness of it, talk had begun on the mystery of the streaming detective series centered around their park.
It was heading into its third season.
Nene had been religiously following it along. Rui had caught a few episodes here and there. Emu hadn't seen it yet.
"I have season one and two on my phone through the app," Nene had said. "Want to watch it?"
His friends had moved from their seats to settle on the floor in a tight, clustered group of misshapen limbs and tangled arrangement.
Nene's phone had played the audio quiet but loud enough to fill the cabin.
Nearly an hour had passed.
Tsukasa hadn't yet looked away from the window, but he could hear the show past his earbuds that played nothing.
At one point, a trap had been set for the enemy.
Trip stairs of a sort.
Nene had questioned its authenticity.
Rui had broken into a delighted ramble, and in the wet reflection of the glass, Tsukasa had watched his taller friend pull out his phone, scroll through and search for reference.
"- see here. It was actually a tactic employed on defense towers. If you were to explore medieval grounds in Europe, you'd notice each step was built uneven. It was done to cause trouble and slow the advance of any opposing force laying siege to their castles."
"That's wonderhoy cool," Emu is now smiling brightly, draped over half Rui's back. "Do you think we could try it ourselves in one of our shows?"
"Unfortunately, no. It wouldn't be wise," Rui is chuckling. "We couldn't have any of us falling and hurting ourselves, could we?"
"Mmmm, that's true, you're right," Emu agrees, though, disappointed, sighing small.
Nene offers an alternative. "Maybe in the SEKAI."
Emu perks back up. "Ooh! Yeah! We could ask Miku-chan and the others."
"Build a castle and have the plushies as the army that tries and storms it?" Rui contemplates, mirthful. "It sound like a plan."
He pauses.
Deliberate.
Questioning.
"...Tsukasa-kun. What do you think?"
Tsukasa tears his gaze from outside the window and-
"...Tsukasa-kun?"
He's stood up without realizing it.
But now all eyes are on him.
A washed out star beneath a spotlight.
"Bathroom," he says.
He doesn't go the bathroom.
He goes three cars back to where Emu's big brother's car is, swaying with the movements of the dipping train as he does so.
The other passengers, adults, traveling university students, business women and men and elder, doze, read, or spend time on puzzles in books or eyes glued to their devices.
They pay him - a lone high schooler, dressed for winter in a thick blur and furred parka - no mind. Though the parka wasn't even his.
He had borrowed it before he left from Touya.
Rather- Touya had found and given it to him before they had departed.
"The mountains will be cold, senpai; in this season with heavy rain. I went camping in the new year with this. Please, take it with you."
"Isn't this Akito's?"
"He gifted it. I'm sure he won't mind if I'm lending it to you."
Akito would.
Because Tsukasa was something of a nuisance to him.
Tsukasa wasn't an idiot.
But he hadn't had the heart to tell Touya the way Akito saw him, Tenma Tsukasa, wasn't at all like how Touya did.
Touya valued him. And though Tsukasa had told Touya before, he wondered still if his kouhai knew just how much Tsukasa valued him more.
For giving him confidence, and the belief he could make others smile when doubts had come.
But Touya has his partner. He's mending broken bonds within his family; he's chasing a like-minded dream with the close friends he's made.
There is no place for Tsukasa in that.
It no longer has the space.
It's no different with Saki.
Childhood friends rejoined, bonds renewed, a singular goal of becoming pro - staying together still - no matter the trials that come.
Tsukasa will watch and love and support them, those precious, important stars of his, grabbed down from the skies above and selfishly held, because Tenma Tsukasa is a great big brother and a good friend, who loves those close to him dear.
But those stars, in the end, are fireflies, and his hands will endlessly let them go.
As they will too with Wonderlands.
Tsukasa's stops when he reaches Shousuke's four-seater cabin reserved for himself.
It's empty, and he hesitates for a moment wondering if he should go in, before sliding the door open, closing it and taking the corner seat by the window.
A briefcase and a few of Shousuke's other things are in the other seats.
He glances over the belongings of 'an adult' before shifting in his seat and imagining he could hide in its corner for the rest of the trip back home.
He's frustrated.
Hot tears burn at his eyes.
There's no reason for his behavior; no need for him to ruin a new day when he's already ruined the one that's come before.
He scrolls through Youtube to try and find a video to distract him.
Old history.
Recently watched.
Recommended.
He clicks on a video of a number of from an overseas musical he'd been enthralled by weeks before.
But now, it only brings him misery.
His emotions in his churn and conflict.
Watching the actors dance across the grace with nimbleness and grace and strength in their every gesture and their voice -
He’s reminded again.
This is the level of stardom he seeks to achieve.
This is the level of talent he has yet to reach.
This is the world of professionals.
There’s a future in Emu's hands of a vibrant, dream and laughter filled park as she takes on the mantle as her brothers step down.
Limitless, unyielding, bold and brave.
There’s a future in Rui's genius, in the wide berth of his skills on par and beyond with those in stem in their top universities. An engineer, a scientist, a teacher, director, born with visions blessed with hands that could create them.
There is no one more dependable, more reliable, more capable than him.
He who looks out for others, and cares for them deeply.
Who revitalized that future of Nene's that would have been lost had Rui not reached out his hand.
Nene's future, shining, stronger, brighter than any star Tsukasa could ever dream to hold.
Every show her abilities grow, every show t feels pride and fear and reverence at what she has become- what she will continue, well without them, to be.
Songstress, actress, mentor.
When the last shell of her shyness is broken, when she openly, regularly walks the streets, and strides across the stages of the world, open heart and warmth in her spreading arms and singing voice - there is nothing that will stop her.
And Tsukasa.
Whose future is declared in spoken words of proclamations.
In continual efforts of practice behind the scene.
In pushing himself to the limit; studying, learning more- because he wasn’t born with natural talent; wasn't born with a prodigal mind.
He was a kid who had to be taught how to play across 88 keys; who wore his emotions and heart on his sleeve.
Who had no particular dreams or goals as a kid but to be a good son and an even better brother to the parents and sister he loves.
Who practiced the piano.
Who sewed crooked stitches of other’s names into small pillows and gifted them to those he saw as friends; a friend who had become an idol, on a colorful stage and sea of shining lights.
He doesn’t think about it much - but when he does, he does.
His friends who steadily progress on the road of their dreams ahead so magnificently blessed with blossoming, blooming gifts under the dazzling lights of the future.
If he doesn’t keep running, he’ll be left behind in the shadows of their steps.
Tsukasa slumps down in the soft hardness of his seat as the train rumbles soft and sways on the winding track.
Clouds gray the isolated car.
The patter of rain on glass drums a low, lulling rhythm, reaching past the theatrical music playing in the earbuds he wears.
He gazes at the sliding drops of storm curving down the window beside his head.
A smudged blur of green mountains.
The vast expansive smear of a deep ocean beyond.
He drags his eyes away and moves them to his wet and muddy shoes, where he looks at the laces he’s allowed to become messy and undone.
The sound of rain drums louder.
His thumb on his phone shuts out of YouTube.
He opens up his music player, hits a song list of piano his mother had once given him to play, and lets his eyes close.
He wonders how exciting the detective show his friends watch elsewhere is.
He wakes, unsure of when he'd fallen asleep.
An eternity of a deep slumber. For a moment and another moment more, he can't remember where he is.
Two warm hands hold his right one, thumbs easing over knuckles, between fingers, pressing, soothingly, into his skin.
His head has been guided onto a shoulder.
Rui's.
He's explaining something to Emu who sits in front of them on the floor, holding Nene's hand who sits beside her.
She follows the movements of Rui's hands as Rui goes into depth on acupuncture and pressure points and traditional healing arts native to the mountains they've left where the Ootori's favored resort sits his.
It's a jumble of official terminology that sounds like nonsensical noise in Tsukasa's ears.
Or maybe it's just that he's not awake yet fully, because he doesn't know why his friends are here.
Or...what exactly they're doing.
Yet as he's thinking it, beginning to think too much, one of Rui's hands leaves Tsukasa's and finds its way around his shoulder.
Long fingers ease up into the base of his scalp, beneath his hair. They scratch lightly.
"No, that's not a part of it," Nene begins as Emu tries to do the same to her only with two hands instead of one.
But Nene makes no actual move to get away, and rather sits and watches Tsukasa who barely registers her gaze, leaning into Rui's touch, huffing, content, blinking slow and groggy, mind threatening to drift back from consciousness.
"...Like a puppy," is what she comments.
"So is Nene-chan," Emu giggles, mischievously victorious. "Look. You get all smiley when I go behind your ear."
"W- We're not the same," Nene tries and fails to protest against her words, flushing red.
"A hehehe."
"Tsukasa-kun?" Rui questions lightly as Emu playfully messes around with Nene's hair before them.
His fingers settle at the base of Tsukasa's neck - and rest.
"...How are you feeling now?"
"Better," Tsukasa mumbles.
And it's true.
He's not sure what changed.
"I'm glad to hear it."
The smile in Rui's voice can't be mistaken for anything else, but Tsukasa doesn't lift his head to try and see it.
Rui's shoulder is cozy. The puffy jacket for cold weather Rui wears himself is soft and lined in fur.
Again the train sways. Tsukasa's cheek sinks deeper onto Rui's shoulder.
After a long minute of watching Emu settle down and choose to braid Nene's hair, Tsukasa opens his mouth, and very softly, to the friend he leans again, murmurs an apology again.
This time for nothing.
This time for everything.
"M'sorry."
"It's quite alright, Tsukasa-kun. When you're ready, we'll talk about it," Rui says just as softly, as if it's just the two of them, seated alone on the long-traveling train. "For now, I'm can't be anything but truly happy you're here with us."
Tsukasa's mouth keeps talking.
"Rui."
"Yes?"
"...Do you think I can become a star?"
The question leaves him before he can stop it.
But how could he have tried to - when he feels so comfortably safe and secure in the warmth of his friends despite his earlier poor attitude, self-deprecation and the outdoor storm outside the train?
He's not sure if he's asked it loud enough for Nene and Emu to hear, but it's Rui's other hand, still left on Tsukasa's own, that squeezes and rubs a thumb once more over his knuckles.
Until fingers weave between his own.
Until their hands are intertwined.
It grounds Tsukasa immensely.
It makes everything in him ache.
He's never been frightened of the future, until he's begun to think of who and what he'll truly lose when that future comes.
But Rui tells him, in the pocket of their privacy, though their other friends are near:
"Tsukasa-kun. You are already a star. Ours and everyone else's that you've come to know. And you shine so bright. In the days ahead, you'll only shine brighter. Don't lose strength. Tenma Tsukasa is our leader. Without him, we would have never reached here. That's why, Tsukasa-kun, I'd like us to keep on forging ahead together on uncertain and certain roads, and sit together when we have worries and doubts and fears."
Rui's hand reassuringly squeezes Tsukasa's hand again.
"And know, Tsukasa-kun, there is no reason on earth we would forget you're here. No matter how bright the lights on the stage of lives become."
Oh.
Tsukasa's throat is tightening back up.
His swallow hurts.
He opens his mouth and his breath shakes, and his eyes are stupidly blurring wet.
How un-star like.
How shameful.
How had Rui known exactly what to say?
...He supposes they've gotten to know each other much, much more than he guessed.
He supposes they've spent much, much more time together than he had processed.
Hadn't they all?
Birthdays, study sessions, game nights, movie nights, every other day at the Wonder Stage, every weekend a show, meet-ups in the city, in cafe's, at the mall, in bookstores, music stores, in the SEKAI, for lunch, late evenings, brainstorming sessions; when they missed each other - for fun.
Tsukasa's throat gets stuck as he recalls.
The dazzling lights on the stage of their lives.
Tsukasa doesn't want to stand alone beneath them.
More than anything, so unlike the beginning, he wants to stand beneath them holding hands with these people, together.
His precious, important friends.
Rui's head turns slightly.
His mouth presses simple and warm against Tsukasa's brow.
Tsukasa's tears spill out.
He's mortified.
They're wiped by Nene.
Emu takes his other hand, the one Rui doesn't have a hold of, and grasps onto it tightly.
"It must be a fever," he sniffles.
Nene shakes her head with a small smile of helplessness and fondness as she looks upon him.
"Yeah. Must be. So we should get you taken care of, huh? What do you need?"
"I know!" Emu declares, determined. She dives into his chest; knocking the air out of his lungs.
He keels forward wheezing yet her arms around him impossibly tighten to levels of near suffocating.
"Emu, you're killing me," he gets out.
"Maybe you should hug him tighter," Nene suggests, because at the end of the day, as Tsukasa had always suspected, there truly was a part of her born from the devil's spawn.
Emu's in the process of delivering unto Tsukasa the deadliest embrace of his life with Rui chuckling softly at their antics, when the glass door to the private cabin slides open.
They stop what they're doing and look over.
Shousuke looks at them all, cup of take-out tea in one hand, paper bag in the other. Aggrieved.
"I leave to get drinks and medicine for the kid for twenty minutes and you've all migrated here like fungus."
"You were hogging him to yourself," Emu chides, "reading a magazine and being boring. We wanted to sit with Tsukasa-kun first."
"What do you mean hogging?" Shousuke scowls. "I came back from the bathroom and found him dead asleep. What else was I going to do but read?" His eyes go from his younger sister to Tsukasa, who's confused at their words, but doesn't have it in him to question. "Anyway, here."
He passes over the tea and paper bag.
The bag is intercepted by Rui who stops holding Tsukasa's hand to open the bag and poke around through it.
Tsukasa's pays a little longer than he should to the absence of warmth as his hand is left alone, but finds his attention diverted back to Shousuke who continues to address him.
"You were temping higher than you should. When we get back, go home and rest. Maybe take the next day off from school. No funny business. We have another promotional show in two weeks. You should be in good condition to travel then."
"Spend the night at my house," Rui says, cracking out a Motrin from its packaging. "You won't want to go home sick while your sister's there, will you? My parents won't mind."
"Sounds good. Do that," Nene says. "I'll bring over soup."
Tsukasa blinks up at her. "You can cook?"
She looks down at him. "Offer redacted."
He makes a face at her, but inside a warmth in him is bubbling, spilling, spreading from deep inside his chest.
Rui presses the Motrin into Tsukasa's hand. "Wait for this. Since the tea's too hot."
"Shousuke knows how to cook," Emu says after.
"What?" Shousuke's face horrendously twists. "No I don't."
"But onii-chan made me soup all the time when I was sick before."
"It was store-bought."
"Eh?" Emu looks at her older brother with a wildly startled, if not betrayed expression. "Does Keisuke-onii-chan know?"
"Why wouldn't he?" Shousuke scoffs. "He started the tradition in the first while I was suffering until Hinata came along."
"That's certainly unexpected," Rui muses. "But somehow right."
Shousuke squints at him.
Eventually the tea in Tsukasa's hand cools and the cabin settles down.
But Rui's wonders linger in Tsukasa's head as their train journeys on.
As he's kept company by his friends and Emu's recalcitrant brother in the poor weather before dawn.
Unexpected.
But somehow right.
Yes...
Maybe, indeed in their company, there will always shine a light above them high.
Dazzling, unexpected and bright.
Rui's hand finds it way back to Tsukasa's own.
Tsukasa gazes down at their fingers.
Then laces them together.
When he lifts his gaze after, he finds Rui smiling at him small.
Tsukasa warms.
It must be some sort of selfishness.
A helplessly, clinging thought.
Moments like this.
I won't think about losing them yet.
Beyond the train and its ongoing tracks, the rain continues to fall on a stage whose curtains have not yet closed.