He was going to tug and tug with all his might even if Kou didnât budge. If that was the way things ended up, then so be it, but Mitsuba wasnât about to abandon him; he wasnât about to leave Kou vulnerable again when that was still hanging so freshly over his head, the sound of his own failure echoing in his head even when there was nothing but silence to keep him company. Was this how Kou had felt, he wonderedâ? Was this how it felt to know that you had let someone down that you cared for so greatly, so much that the weight was crushing you and all you wanted to do was tear your heart free and stop feeling even if just for a second of relief?
But Kou did budge, and it seemed as if that had shaken him out of his trance; though Mitsuba wasnât looking back, he could feel Kou actively trying to move with him instead of just being pulled uselessly along, now, and his voice (still far too quiet for Kou, and Mitsuba didnât like it; he wanted Kou to be okay again) followed soon thereafter.
âI donât know,â Mitsuba admitted, through the tears and the gasping and the pounding of his head and his heart and everything else in his body. âAway. Somewhere away.â
If they didnât look back, it would almost be like it â he â Mitsuba himself â wasnât there.
       â e he heh eh he  hÌŽÌÌeÌŽÍ̱hÌ”ÌÍeÌŽÌÍ.~ â
It was fainter, at least, though Mitsuba knew that he was never going to be far behind. Was he targeting himself in particular, he wondered? It â if the jealousy of the Bent-Neck Boy was anything like the jealousy in Mitsubaâs heart now, he could understand why. Heâd want to eliminate himself, too.
And â it hit him, in that moment. A clear realization, unlike any heâd had before, that he had been so, so jealous of the Mitsuba that had been able to be human and live his own life⊠but that Mitsuba had been so sad. Heâd thought heâd had friends but he hadnât, heâd had to hide who he was⊠heâd been miserable. And Mitsuba, this Mitsuba, now â heâd been so envious. But here, now, wasnât he⊠wasnât he someone who had friends? Wasnât he someone who could live his own life without having to hide who he was?
Mitsuba froze in his tracks.
     Mitsubaâs wish was: I want friends. I want to stay with my friends, forever and ever.
Mitsuba raised his free hand up to his face, his sleeve wiping away his tears to the best of his ability. He hadnât quite processed his switch back to Kouâs last name, but it seemed to come more instinctively; whatever desperation had overtaken him, he was trying his best to swallow back down, and it showed. Even as he turned around to face Kou again, though, it was obvious that he was just moments away from crumbling again. His teeth were clenched too tightly together to try to keep his jaw steady; his lower lip was trembling intermittently.
âI need you to stay here, Minamoto-kun. You have to keep yourself safe. I â Iâm going to protect you this time, okay?â
â⊠um⊠so⊠I â I know Iâm⊠I know Iâm not the Mitsuba you want me to be, b-but I⊠I donât want you to get hurt, and I⊠I donât want you to feel like you failed that Mitsuba, either. Like â like you failed me.â
Kou was much better at these on-the-spot speeches, wasnât he? Mitsuba slowly released his grip on Kou, his claw falling back down to his side. At some point heâd gone from looking at Kou to looking beside Kou; he couldnât bring himself to make eye contact. Not once heâd really started talking.
â⊠I canât⊠ask for you to face this when you might get hurt. This isnât⊠your fight, I donât think. Um⊠I â I just need you to trust me, please. I⊠I love you, and I canât⊠if you get hurt againâŠâ
The tears were coming back. Mitsuba swallowed thickly, very aware of a lump in his throat, and as he practically croaked out the last few words he forced himself to push past Kou and take off running, back in the direction of the Bent-Neck Boy.
    As much as the world around them was clearing upâa far cry from the fog that had once swallowed Archimedes wholeâMitsubaâs grip really was all that kept it from falling apart all over again. It was Kouâs single tether as he tried to make sense of the situation, and to figure out what to do. But Mitsuba didnât stop running, and neither did he: he was too weak to pull away, too afraid of freezing up again and getting ensnared by old regret.
     If his grandparents could see him, theyâd probably be yelling, rolling in their graves with fury. Here he was, saved by the hand of a supernatural, running away from one he couldnât even defeat. No Minamoto had ever been recorded in history as running away. There was always walking awayâwalking with their backs turned and expressions proud. Even Teru-nii had done that, even when he hadnât exorcised Hanako for good: that gait and bearing had been passed down from every generation to the next. But Kouâ
     Kou didnât have that. The blood of a high-level supernatural had never spilled over his hands and dropped to the ground; there was never a need to feel so accomplished in something he never did. He had walked besides supernaturals and behind them, never with his back turned to face themâand now, the only time that he did, he was sprinting for his own life, all his strength shoved towards running rather than fighting.
     But he couldnât keep running forever. It wasnât stamina that would stop him: he had enough to travel the length of the city and maybe more. But no sprint could outrun the memories still clinging to him, boiling his blood and warming the tears that still appeared. There was no âsomewhereâ that wasnât far enough from the sorrow that stayed by his side, always next to him and in front of him and behind him. And the more they ranâ
     The closer it wouldâve gotten to spilling over.
     They froze too quickly; Kou, still caught up in running away and thinking and trying to stop himself from regretting, couldnât even speak. He threw his strength into watching and listening and couldnât even object when Mitsuba made his speech and stuttered over his words. Because as much as Mitsuba wanted him to stay there, and to stay safe, and to stay out of thisâ
     He couldnât. It was wrongâall of it was wrong. And even if he trusted Mitsubaâeven if he trusted Mitsuba more than anythingâit didnât stop his eyes from widening at every word in his makeshift speech, or a sense of protest rising in his silenced throat.
     And when Mitsuba let go of his hand, and ran towards the ghost behind him, and when Kou turned with himâhe couldnât watch him go alone.
     âMitsubaââ No. Noâhe was already a few steps ahead, and even though part of Kou wanted to ground himself there and let him run the entire length ahead, he couldnât. âMitsubaâwait!â
     He scrambled after him and caught to his hand in seconds, holding as tight as he could. Even after yellingâeven if it could hardly be called a yellâhis breath was shakier than his grip, with the thoughts that he wanted to say in his head but the words lost before they could reach his lips. There was so much to say, and the Bent-Neck Boy was still coming closerâbut his head was so scattered, and he just couldnât speak.
     âWhatââ he stopped, shaking, only continuing by forcing the words out before he lost them. âWhat are you saying? I donâtâI donât know what you mean byâby the Mitsuba thatâthat I want you to be. Because youâreââ
     Because he didnât need to be someone else. Because he was fine as himselfâas he was right now, no matter what tried to say he was a different Mitsuba or he wasnât him orâor anything else. Becauseâ
     âBecause youâre already yourself. Thatâs all I want you to beâ!â
    All his breath felt like itâd left him again. But he had toâhe had to keep going.
     âAnd Iââ he did fail Mitsuba, and he knew it. There, in his memories, he could still remember it: the last moments before Tsukasa had appeared, the single second before everything fell apart. He failed that Mitsuba because heâd never managed to move on. Granting his wish and letting him move on from this shoreâthat was the very duty he swore when they first met again, and he would swear the former again, and again, and again. Even after he couldnât do that the first time, he wasnât the one to help him in the endâheâd done everything but that. And even as his breath shook and his eyes welled with tears and his grip grew unsteady, he knew that was more than enough to count. âI did. I did fail him. You donât need to say I didnât.â
     But. âBut I canâtâI canât stay out of this. Even if you wonât let me go aloneâI have to help.â He couldnât sit there and watch him disappear again. He had done that too many times already. âAndâI know that I might get hurt. I know that you donât want me to, and I trust youâI do. I really do. But Iââ
     âI love you, too.â More than the stars and the moon and the sun. âBut I have to go there. I canât just sit and watch this happen again.â
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