Blackbird - An Ensemble Stars Short Story
Apr. 11th, 2023 03:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iridesenescenceWriter: Akira
A pipe dream is burning.
— Love will always win in the end.
— Hard work and good intentions will be rewarded.
— If you wish fervently enough, any dream can come true.
Any adult would know those are nothing but lies. The stack of papers that embody the pure feelings of a youth who wholeheartedly believed in such nonsense, such delusions, is thrown into the bonfire and left to burn.
The charred remains of hopes and dreams are fanned by the updraft formed from the heat—
Soot and ashes drift upwards, wretchedly polluting the beautiful sky.
"Oh, this is terrible!"
Hibiki Wataru looks to the heavens, and in contrast to his exclamation, he appears joyous as he shudders.
He is a beautiful man.
With long silver hair like solidified moonlight, and a blessed physique perfectly fitting the golden ratio.
He wears the refinedly-designed uniform in an inexplicably casual fashion.
Even his expressions and behaviour are so refined that they feel excessively charming; it's almost a wonder that there isn't iridescent dust or light around him.
But it's precisely because he's so beautiful that he appears out of place wherever he goes.
As if they've encountered some sort of monster, passers-by cast bizarre gazes as they distance themselves from him or flee the area entirely. While that is certainly the most appropriate reaction when coming face-to-face with such a creature—
He would at least like them to scream.
Or curse at him, spit at him, or pelt him with rocks.
To be ignored is the cruelest treatment of all.
As if proclaiming thus, he gestures invitingly, but the only one to approach him is a single, dirtied dove.
"Ah, Gilles! My poor Gilles de Rais! Your feathers are looking absolutely filthy!"
Wataru laments as he nuzzles against the dove perched on his shoulder.
"Look at you, all covered in soot — you look more like a crow than a dove! Crows are intelligent, so they would make excellent performers with some training, but people seem to dislike them, so that might be a challenge."
At the sight of Wataru casually speaking to the dove, the people in his vicinity distance themselves further.
"... Though, perhaps having such creatures as partners would be more fitting for me now."
In response to Wataru's subdued muttering, the soot-covered dove tugs on his hair with its beak.
"Ow, ow ow?! I'm just joking, Gilles! Are you jealous? We've been together from the moment you hatched, it would be unthinkable for me to abandon you and find another partner! Please, I implore you, don't be upset— Oh?"
In the dove's rampage, something has fallen from its beak.
A charred scrap of paper.
The remains of a dream, carried from afar on the wind.
"Oh, splendid! I was actually in a tight spot over my lack of ink!"
Delighted, Wataru crushes the scrap with his fingertips.
And with his finger dyed black, he signs his name on the stack of papers he carries.
"— With this, it's complete."
Clutching the stack like it's a precious treasure, Wataru shudders again.
"I wonder if he'll be happy."
* * *
A war had occurred.
A wretched struggle where youths hurt and killed in the name of their dreams and ideals — in the name of love.
While it might be looked back on as a gruesome memory like that, it wasn't as if people had really taken up arms and drenched themselves in blood.
Each and every one of them was an idol.
Their true purpose is to sing, dance, and bring happiness to people up on stage.
But their home at the time — the private school Yumenosaki Academy — had not been an environment where idols could live as they should have. Everything had stagnated, rotted, and ground to a halt.
And there were some who stepped forward to change the status quo.
And there were also some who had had something precious mutilated by the word 'revolution' that those paraded. In their rage and devastation, they attempted to fight back.
They turned everything that had been prepared to make others happy into weapons, misused them, and blamed their gloom and misery on each other.
As a result, this vast, boundless world underwent a minute change.
But the price to be paid for that was great.
— The era of conflict in Yumenosaki Academy.
— The first revolution.
— The beginning of the end.
Each one steeped in regret, they reminisce on that tragedy.
* * *
A hospital ward.
The brand new hospital near Yumenosaki Academy has been constructed to provide immediate medical attention to just one person, if his physical condition requires it.
The cutting-edge technology and first-rate doctors also exist for the sole purpose of prolonging his survival. Even if it means prioritising him over other patients, and even if they have to do it by force.
The person in question is the son of the Tenshouin Financial Conglomerate, with wealth that few in the world can hold a candle to — Tenshouin Eichi.
He is one of the protagonists in the struggle that had unfolded in Yumenosaki Academy.
His love for idols is second to none.
But the ways of ruling that have been drilled into him since young by the conglomerate's tutors, the bright and sharp mind he has cultivated, and his parched, emotionless heart have driven him to slaughter that which he loved with his own two hands.
The multitude of misdeeds he had committed by this ironic turn of fate consumed him, and made him ill.
"......"
Tenshouin Eichi lies on the floor of the spacious, empty hospital ward.
He too is a beautiful man, but cracks have formed in that beauty.
He's thin and weak, as if he hasn't been eating sufficiently, and his blonde hair like solidified sunshine is dishevelled. The hospital gown made from quality fabric that he wears is crumpled and soiled.
He resembles a chick that's fallen from its nest.
The IV drip and other medical equipment meant to treat him and keep him alive have all been ripped out and pounded till they no longer function by none other than Eichi himself.
Even the doctors who worried for him or wished to perform treatment, as is their duty, were thoroughly threatened and cursed at, and have given him some distance.
— I don't want to live anymore.
— Please, don't treat me.
— I shouldn't be allowed to stay alive.
"That's not true."
A reply came to Eichi's monologue. One he spouted while drained and on the brink of death — one that no one should have been able to hear.
From the single tiny window, so small that there should have been no way to fit through it regardless of how you contorted yourself, the well-built Hibiki Wataru had soundlessly infiltrated the ward.
As if this was a dream.
As if via some sort of trick, there he was.
"— So it's you. Hibiki Wataru of the Five Eccentrics."
"That tale has come to an end, so could you address me in another way?"
Eichi spoke as though half convinced he was dreaming, and Wataru replied casually as he wandered around the room.
He makes sure not to tread on or damage the wreckage scattered across the floor.
"Come, let's lighten the mood in here! Let us rejoice over the success of our performances as we rest and recover our energy! That is our duty right now, Tenshouin Eichi-kun!"
"What, exactly, have you come here for?"
While he glares up at Wataru, Eichi mutters as if venting his frustration.
"Have you come to ridicule me for thinking I had won, when in reality I had lost everything?"
Perhaps because his pride wouldn't allow him to remain looking so unsightly, he moves to sit on the bed, wobbling as he does so.
Because even the cleaners have kept their distance, the filthy bed is his current throne.
"Or do you intend to avenge your friends, the Five Eccentrics?"
"Oh no, not at all? Though it was by no means well-done, you did manage to see the performance through till the end! I would only praise you — to ridicule you would be unthinkable!"
Wataru continues to speak like he's enjoying himself. He gathers petals in an array of colours from what lies scattered next to the vase on the floor and clenches them in his fist. When he next opens it, they've become a single, perfect flower.
"Besides, my beloved friends of the Five Eccentrics haven't really been killed. They're not nearly that delicate— I ask that you not make light of them."
For just a moment, his eyes brim with animosity. Then, as if donning a mask, Wataru conceals it.
"Shu is finding solace in the dolls he loves and is loved by, and is slowly regaining his vitality. Kanata has also begun a new life alongside the inexperienced hero that saved his heart. And of course, His Majesty — our demon king Rei too — that one wouldn't die even if you killed him, really."
Naming the great figures that comprise the Five Eccentrics one by one, Wataru smiles.
"As for the youngest child that we gave everything we had to protect... There isn't so much as a scratch on Natsume-kun. He quickly found the bluebird that you released, and has begun a new life as an idol — as a single human, not as one of the Eccentrics."
"... They're so strong. Each and every one of them. Much stronger, much more respectable human beings than I am. Even Hiyori-kun and Nagisa-kun have quickly moved on to a new stage."
With a slightly stunned expression, Eichi hangs his head like a child that has wandered astray and is at a loss as to what to do.
"Am I the only one who can't move forward? Perhaps the only loser in the Five Eccentrics' subjugation, or this whole tale of conflict in Yumenosaki, was me."
"I think not. You see, shameful as it may be to admit, I'm not quite sure what I should do next either."
Wearing a dazed expression similar to Eichi's, Wataru fiddles with the flower. His fingertips are still faintly stained black.
"It was a splendid performance, and while we may not have ended it in the best way possible, it was the next best ending, so I'm fairly satisfied. However, my plans for the future have gone up in smoke, so I'm actually at a loss."
"Is that so. I'll express my condolences for that; you did play the role of a villain that was the object of everyone's hatred; a role subjected to ridicule and contempt."
"Indeed I did. Thanks to that, no one has come to offer me anything new, and my schedule is looking rather empty from here on out. While I could certainly prepare for a play myself and perform any old story... Acting alone is a lonely affair, wouldn't you say?"
"You always look like you're having fun up on stage, even when you're alone."
"I have little choice in the matter. You see, an entertainer exists to delight. But I have no desire to stand up on stage for my own sake; I wouldn't be able to work up any motivation for that."
Shrugging his shoulders, Wataru quietly offers Eichi the flower.
"Thus, I thought to come to the organiser of the play that provided me with the greatest satisfaction to request for a new role. So here I am — in addition to paying you a general hospital visit, that is."
"Are you being sarcastic? I humiliated and dishonoured you and the friends you love. To satisfy my own desires, I crushed you all to death underfoot."
"No one has died, Eichi-kun. That was all a mere story."
"What, are you trying to say that you all escaped unscathed? Like some kind of sore loser?"
"Oh, no. But if I were to resent you, that would be what dishonours my friends when they played their roles as villains with such dignity. So there you have it — I will do no such thing as avenge them."
"I can't say I understand your sensibilities."
"Neither can I. It's my first time ever living alongside this sensation of truly being alive... I don't have a name for what it is that swirls within me."
Saying this, Wataru tilts his head innocently, like a toddler that has just tripped for the first time in his life.
* * *
"Oh dear, we were getting wrapped up in idle conversation, but first things first, I must pass you this gift."
All of a sudden, Wataru returns to his usual self, and he gently passes the flower he had been holding to Eichi.
In the moment that the flower touches Eichi's finger, it becomes a stack of papers. As if by magic.
"... That was a surprise. You're as masterful with your sleight of hand as ever, Hibiki-kun."
"I don't think you and I are close enough for you to speak as if you know me."
"I've been watching you for a long time now."
Perhaps lacking the energy to hide behind a pretense of power, Eichi responds honestly and flips through the documents.
As he does, shock is evident in his expression.
"This is—"
"Fufufu. The pipe dream that Natsume-kun — the youngest brother amongst us Five Eccentrics — worked desperately to write."
Gazing upon Eichi's surprised expression, Wataru continues speaking, looking pleased.
"What we have here is a scenario for us Five Eccentrics to seize victory in the final battle you and I performed in the other day."
"Now that you mention it, you were talking with the others before the performance. I had my hands full at the time, so I couldn't concern myself with it."
As he carefully flips through the papers, engrossed in reading, Eichi's expression relaxes.
"Fufu, how cute. It really is a pipe dream. Not wanting the Five Eccentrics that he loves so dearly to be defeated, and hoping to reach a happy ending without losing anyone along the way."
"Indeed. An impossible daydream, a fantastical delusion is what has been penned here."
"... We managed to bring things to an end at that performance precisely because we defeated you. If you all had won there, we would probably still be locked in conflict right now."
"Indeed. I could foresee that happening, and thus, I didn't accept what that adorable child — what Natsume-kun had poured his dreams, hopes and love into."
"And everything ended just as it was supposed to."
"Certainly. But just as you would expect of a story desperately penned by the child we showered in love, it's an interesting tale, no? Turning a blind eye to it and thoughtlessly discarding it would be such a waste."
As if caressing an infant, Wataru's fingers gently stroke the surface of the papers.
"So in that moment, I scrutinised and memorised it, then took the liberty of creating a replica. The original was sacrificed to flames not too long ago by Natsume-kun's own hands, you see. The pipe dream he crafted, in theory, should have been erased from this world."
Looking every bit like a child that has succeeded in an act of mischief, Wataru grins.
"Or so people will believe! But what remains here — replica though it may be — is as close to the real thing as it could be. No, rather... I've revived and left it behind to satisfy my own desires."
"Hm, I see. But you know this can't be used, don't you? It's the product of delusions that are far too removed from reality — in other words, a worthless piece of junk. This is nothing but a transformative work written by a reader who refused to face the cruelty of reality and instead concocted an alternative ending that was to his liking."
Dropping the papers across the dirty bed, Eichi laughs derisively.
"Things like that are irrelevant to this world. Stories like that can only exist in the idealistic, dreaming heads of their authors. They're not real, and they can't come true."
"Right. So, as someone who can properly face reality, I'd like for you to reconfigure this."
"......?"
"You don't have better things to be doing while you're hospitalised, do you?"
Sheet by sheet, Wataru carefully gathers up the papers Eichi had scattered. He smiles.
"So make good use of that time, and use these as inspiration. For a new story — one where your enemies, the Five Eccentrics, triumph instead."
"And what would the point of that be?"
"Though the chance of that day arriving might seem exceedingly slim, you should still be ready in the event of the future not unfolding as you had wished. I'm sure you're the most acutely aware of this, but considering the weak and sickly constitution you were born with, you never know when death may befall you."
"... That's true. Even now, I've lost all will to live and am rejecting treatment."
"You are this story's protagonist. And upon your death — if you are suddenly, forcefully removed from it, this entire story will crumble."
"......"
"I trust you understand what I'm implying, Eichi-kun?"
"I do, Hibiki-kun."
A flicker of light appears in Eichi's eyes. Eyes that had, until now, been as dull as a corpse's.
"As the protagonist, and as the author of this tale, I bear a responsibility. I have to prepare for when my character dies and disappears from this world — this story."
"Right. But since you don't appear to be a professional at creating them, I thought a reference might serve you well. Pipe dream though it may be, Natsume-kun's work is a perfect fit in both content and quality, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yeah, you're right. It is a tale that a budding genius, the youngest of the Five Eccentrics, spun as if his life depended on it."
This time, with no mockery in his expression, Eichi let himself honestly praise his foe's work as he smiled.
"I appreciate this, Hibiki-kun. A story with my death as a premise isn't something I could ask Keito to write, after all — not when he's the most reluctant to even think about that happening."
Eichi comments as such with deep affection in his tone. Then his eyes widen, as if surprised by his own words.
Perhaps he had remembered that he did have something left to love, despite believing he had lost everything.
"I'll be the one to write it. Because this story will continue on, even when I'm gone."
Moving animatedly, Eichi dyes his finger in the dirt splattered across the bed and begins writing on the reverse side of the papers. The words he produces are messy and unsteady, legible only to him.
"First, I'll be defeated while I'm still alive. After taking the Five Eccentrics down and obtaining everything, I'll become a mad tyrant, and a new generation of heroes will rise to slay me. Those heroes could include Natsume-kun, as the surviving Eccentric, or someone else entirely."
"Right ♪ And after that? What will happen next?"
"There's no point in just letting power change hands. We need the members of society to take the initiative and work to make the world a better place. Yes, so we should aim for a civilian-led revolution next. Then, umm, aah—"
In his fervour, he messes the documents up, then cradles his head in his hands.
"I can't collect my thoughts! I'm no genius, after all! Aah, it's shameful to ask, and it's not something you're obliged to concern yourself with, but— can I ask you to help me plan this out, Hibiki-kun?"
"Of course, I would be happy to ♪ I don't have anything to do either, after all!"
Taking a seat on the bed, Wataru gazes blissfully at Eichi as he zealously begins spinning a new tale.
"I too am excited to see what sort of stage it is that I'll be called to perform on next. Ah, that has always been the epitome of joy in my life!"
"I need more paper! And some stationery! Hibiki-kun, can you pick some up from somewhere?"
"Sure, sure. Say, aren't you supposed to be a fan of mine? Yet here you are ordering me around."
But he smiles as he admits he doesn't mind, and then Wataru begins to move like a bird taking off.
"Now, go forth! Sing! Weave! Create your story! Tragedies become comedies when retold, I'm sure your next work will be a story that is great fun!"
"Enough of that, stop rambling! Hurry! Before I run out of life!"
"Alright, alright. Goodness, you really don't know how to ask favours of people, esteemed author... ♪"
......
And thus, Hibiki Wataru came to help Tenshouin Eichi in the crafting of his story. As they supported each other and engaged in heated discussions, they planned for the future.
Their defeat as fine, the rulers of Yumenosaki Academy, by the revolutionaries Trickstar, is something that would occur past the end of the dismal winter.
In the season where the seeds that the dirtied, weary bird had brought, sprout into flowers.
A pipe dream is burning.
— Love will always win in the end.
— Hard work and good intentions will be rewarded.
— If you wish fervently enough, any dream can come true.
Any adult would know those are nothing but lies. The stack of papers that embody the pure feelings of a youth who wholeheartedly believed in such nonsense, such delusions, is thrown into the bonfire and left to burn.
The charred remains of hopes and dreams are fanned by the updraft formed from the heat—
Soot and ashes drift upwards, wretchedly polluting the beautiful sky.
"Oh, this is terrible!"
Hibiki Wataru looks to the heavens, and in contrast to his exclamation, he appears joyous as he shudders.
He is a beautiful man.
With long silver hair like solidified moonlight, and a blessed physique perfectly fitting the golden ratio.
He wears the refinedly-designed uniform in an inexplicably casual fashion.
Even his expressions and behaviour are so refined that they feel excessively charming; it's almost a wonder that there isn't iridescent dust or light around him.
But it's precisely because he's so beautiful that he appears out of place wherever he goes.
As if they've encountered some sort of monster, passers-by cast bizarre gazes as they distance themselves from him or flee the area entirely. While that is certainly the most appropriate reaction when coming face-to-face with such a creature—
He would at least like them to scream.
Or curse at him, spit at him, or pelt him with rocks.
To be ignored is the cruelest treatment of all.
As if proclaiming thus, he gestures invitingly, but the only one to approach him is a single, dirtied dove.
"Ah, Gilles! My poor Gilles de Rais! Your feathers are looking absolutely filthy!"
Wataru laments as he nuzzles against the dove perched on his shoulder.
"Look at you, all covered in soot — you look more like a crow than a dove! Crows are intelligent, so they would make excellent performers with some training, but people seem to dislike them, so that might be a challenge."
At the sight of Wataru casually speaking to the dove, the people in his vicinity distance themselves further.
"... Though, perhaps having such creatures as partners would be more fitting for me now."
In response to Wataru's subdued muttering, the soot-covered dove tugs on his hair with its beak.
"Ow, ow ow?! I'm just joking, Gilles! Are you jealous? We've been together from the moment you hatched, it would be unthinkable for me to abandon you and find another partner! Please, I implore you, don't be upset— Oh?"
In the dove's rampage, something has fallen from its beak.
A charred scrap of paper.
The remains of a dream, carried from afar on the wind.
"Oh, splendid! I was actually in a tight spot over my lack of ink!"
Delighted, Wataru crushes the scrap with his fingertips.
And with his finger dyed black, he signs his name on the stack of papers he carries.
"— With this, it's complete."
Clutching the stack like it's a precious treasure, Wataru shudders again.
"I wonder if he'll be happy."
* * *
A war had occurred.
A wretched struggle where youths hurt and killed in the name of their dreams and ideals — in the name of love.
While it might be looked back on as a gruesome memory like that, it wasn't as if people had really taken up arms and drenched themselves in blood.
Each and every one of them was an idol.
Their true purpose is to sing, dance, and bring happiness to people up on stage.
But their home at the time — the private school Yumenosaki Academy — had not been an environment where idols could live as they should have. Everything had stagnated, rotted, and ground to a halt.
And there were some who stepped forward to change the status quo.
And there were also some who had had something precious mutilated by the word 'revolution' that those paraded. In their rage and devastation, they attempted to fight back.
They turned everything that had been prepared to make others happy into weapons, misused them, and blamed their gloom and misery on each other.
As a result, this vast, boundless world underwent a minute change.
But the price to be paid for that was great.
— The era of conflict in Yumenosaki Academy.
— The first revolution.
— The beginning of the end.
Each one steeped in regret, they reminisce on that tragedy.
* * *
A hospital ward.
The brand new hospital near Yumenosaki Academy has been constructed to provide immediate medical attention to just one person, if his physical condition requires it.
The cutting-edge technology and first-rate doctors also exist for the sole purpose of prolonging his survival. Even if it means prioritising him over other patients, and even if they have to do it by force.
The person in question is the son of the Tenshouin Financial Conglomerate, with wealth that few in the world can hold a candle to — Tenshouin Eichi.
He is one of the protagonists in the struggle that had unfolded in Yumenosaki Academy.
His love for idols is second to none.
But the ways of ruling that have been drilled into him since young by the conglomerate's tutors, the bright and sharp mind he has cultivated, and his parched, emotionless heart have driven him to slaughter that which he loved with his own two hands.
The multitude of misdeeds he had committed by this ironic turn of fate consumed him, and made him ill.
"......"
Tenshouin Eichi lies on the floor of the spacious, empty hospital ward.
He too is a beautiful man, but cracks have formed in that beauty.
He's thin and weak, as if he hasn't been eating sufficiently, and his blonde hair like solidified sunshine is dishevelled. The hospital gown made from quality fabric that he wears is crumpled and soiled.
He resembles a chick that's fallen from its nest.
The IV drip and other medical equipment meant to treat him and keep him alive have all been ripped out and pounded till they no longer function by none other than Eichi himself.
Even the doctors who worried for him or wished to perform treatment, as is their duty, were thoroughly threatened and cursed at, and have given him some distance.
— I don't want to live anymore.
— Please, don't treat me.
— I shouldn't be allowed to stay alive.
"That's not true."
A reply came to Eichi's monologue. One he spouted while drained and on the brink of death — one that no one should have been able to hear.
From the single tiny window, so small that there should have been no way to fit through it regardless of how you contorted yourself, the well-built Hibiki Wataru had soundlessly infiltrated the ward.
As if this was a dream.
As if via some sort of trick, there he was.
"— So it's you. Hibiki Wataru of the Five Eccentrics."
"That tale has come to an end, so could you address me in another way?"
Eichi spoke as though half convinced he was dreaming, and Wataru replied casually as he wandered around the room.
He makes sure not to tread on or damage the wreckage scattered across the floor.
"Come, let's lighten the mood in here! Let us rejoice over the success of our performances as we rest and recover our energy! That is our duty right now, Tenshouin Eichi-kun!"
"What, exactly, have you come here for?"
While he glares up at Wataru, Eichi mutters as if venting his frustration.
"Have you come to ridicule me for thinking I had won, when in reality I had lost everything?"
Perhaps because his pride wouldn't allow him to remain looking so unsightly, he moves to sit on the bed, wobbling as he does so.
Because even the cleaners have kept their distance, the filthy bed is his current throne.
"Or do you intend to avenge your friends, the Five Eccentrics?"
"Oh no, not at all? Though it was by no means well-done, you did manage to see the performance through till the end! I would only praise you — to ridicule you would be unthinkable!"
Wataru continues to speak like he's enjoying himself. He gathers petals in an array of colours from what lies scattered next to the vase on the floor and clenches them in his fist. When he next opens it, they've become a single, perfect flower.
"Besides, my beloved friends of the Five Eccentrics haven't really been killed. They're not nearly that delicate— I ask that you not make light of them."
For just a moment, his eyes brim with animosity. Then, as if donning a mask, Wataru conceals it.
"Shu is finding solace in the dolls he loves and is loved by, and is slowly regaining his vitality. Kanata has also begun a new life alongside the inexperienced hero that saved his heart. And of course, His Majesty — our demon king Rei too — that one wouldn't die even if you killed him, really."
Naming the great figures that comprise the Five Eccentrics one by one, Wataru smiles.
"As for the youngest child that we gave everything we had to protect... There isn't so much as a scratch on Natsume-kun. He quickly found the bluebird that you released, and has begun a new life as an idol — as a single human, not as one of the Eccentrics."
"... They're so strong. Each and every one of them. Much stronger, much more respectable human beings than I am. Even Hiyori-kun and Nagisa-kun have quickly moved on to a new stage."
With a slightly stunned expression, Eichi hangs his head like a child that has wandered astray and is at a loss as to what to do.
"Am I the only one who can't move forward? Perhaps the only loser in the Five Eccentrics' subjugation, or this whole tale of conflict in Yumenosaki, was me."
"I think not. You see, shameful as it may be to admit, I'm not quite sure what I should do next either."
Wearing a dazed expression similar to Eichi's, Wataru fiddles with the flower. His fingertips are still faintly stained black.
"It was a splendid performance, and while we may not have ended it in the best way possible, it was the next best ending, so I'm fairly satisfied. However, my plans for the future have gone up in smoke, so I'm actually at a loss."
"Is that so. I'll express my condolences for that; you did play the role of a villain that was the object of everyone's hatred; a role subjected to ridicule and contempt."
"Indeed I did. Thanks to that, no one has come to offer me anything new, and my schedule is looking rather empty from here on out. While I could certainly prepare for a play myself and perform any old story... Acting alone is a lonely affair, wouldn't you say?"
"You always look like you're having fun up on stage, even when you're alone."
"I have little choice in the matter. You see, an entertainer exists to delight. But I have no desire to stand up on stage for my own sake; I wouldn't be able to work up any motivation for that."
Shrugging his shoulders, Wataru quietly offers Eichi the flower.
"Thus, I thought to come to the organiser of the play that provided me with the greatest satisfaction to request for a new role. So here I am — in addition to paying you a general hospital visit, that is."
"Are you being sarcastic? I humiliated and dishonoured you and the friends you love. To satisfy my own desires, I crushed you all to death underfoot."
"No one has died, Eichi-kun. That was all a mere story."
"What, are you trying to say that you all escaped unscathed? Like some kind of sore loser?"
"Oh, no. But if I were to resent you, that would be what dishonours my friends when they played their roles as villains with such dignity. So there you have it — I will do no such thing as avenge them."
"I can't say I understand your sensibilities."
"Neither can I. It's my first time ever living alongside this sensation of truly being alive... I don't have a name for what it is that swirls within me."
Saying this, Wataru tilts his head innocently, like a toddler that has just tripped for the first time in his life.
* * *
"Oh dear, we were getting wrapped up in idle conversation, but first things first, I must pass you this gift."
All of a sudden, Wataru returns to his usual self, and he gently passes the flower he had been holding to Eichi.
In the moment that the flower touches Eichi's finger, it becomes a stack of papers. As if by magic.
"... That was a surprise. You're as masterful with your sleight of hand as ever, Hibiki-kun."
"I don't think you and I are close enough for you to speak as if you know me."
"I've been watching you for a long time now."
Perhaps lacking the energy to hide behind a pretense of power, Eichi responds honestly and flips through the documents.
As he does, shock is evident in his expression.
"This is—"
"Fufufu. The pipe dream that Natsume-kun — the youngest brother amongst us Five Eccentrics — worked desperately to write."
Gazing upon Eichi's surprised expression, Wataru continues speaking, looking pleased.
"What we have here is a scenario for us Five Eccentrics to seize victory in the final battle you and I performed in the other day."
"Now that you mention it, you were talking with the others before the performance. I had my hands full at the time, so I couldn't concern myself with it."
As he carefully flips through the papers, engrossed in reading, Eichi's expression relaxes.
"Fufu, how cute. It really is a pipe dream. Not wanting the Five Eccentrics that he loves so dearly to be defeated, and hoping to reach a happy ending without losing anyone along the way."
"Indeed. An impossible daydream, a fantastical delusion is what has been penned here."
"... We managed to bring things to an end at that performance precisely because we defeated you. If you all had won there, we would probably still be locked in conflict right now."
"Indeed. I could foresee that happening, and thus, I didn't accept what that adorable child — what Natsume-kun had poured his dreams, hopes and love into."
"And everything ended just as it was supposed to."
"Certainly. But just as you would expect of a story desperately penned by the child we showered in love, it's an interesting tale, no? Turning a blind eye to it and thoughtlessly discarding it would be such a waste."
As if caressing an infant, Wataru's fingers gently stroke the surface of the papers.
"So in that moment, I scrutinised and memorised it, then took the liberty of creating a replica. The original was sacrificed to flames not too long ago by Natsume-kun's own hands, you see. The pipe dream he crafted, in theory, should have been erased from this world."
Looking every bit like a child that has succeeded in an act of mischief, Wataru grins.
"Or so people will believe! But what remains here — replica though it may be — is as close to the real thing as it could be. No, rather... I've revived and left it behind to satisfy my own desires."
"Hm, I see. But you know this can't be used, don't you? It's the product of delusions that are far too removed from reality — in other words, a worthless piece of junk. This is nothing but a transformative work written by a reader who refused to face the cruelty of reality and instead concocted an alternative ending that was to his liking."
Dropping the papers across the dirty bed, Eichi laughs derisively.
"Things like that are irrelevant to this world. Stories like that can only exist in the idealistic, dreaming heads of their authors. They're not real, and they can't come true."
"Right. So, as someone who can properly face reality, I'd like for you to reconfigure this."
"......?"
"You don't have better things to be doing while you're hospitalised, do you?"
Sheet by sheet, Wataru carefully gathers up the papers Eichi had scattered. He smiles.
"So make good use of that time, and use these as inspiration. For a new story — one where your enemies, the Five Eccentrics, triumph instead."
"And what would the point of that be?"
"Though the chance of that day arriving might seem exceedingly slim, you should still be ready in the event of the future not unfolding as you had wished. I'm sure you're the most acutely aware of this, but considering the weak and sickly constitution you were born with, you never know when death may befall you."
"... That's true. Even now, I've lost all will to live and am rejecting treatment."
"You are this story's protagonist. And upon your death — if you are suddenly, forcefully removed from it, this entire story will crumble."
"......"
"I trust you understand what I'm implying, Eichi-kun?"
"I do, Hibiki-kun."
A flicker of light appears in Eichi's eyes. Eyes that had, until now, been as dull as a corpse's.
"As the protagonist, and as the author of this tale, I bear a responsibility. I have to prepare for when my character dies and disappears from this world — this story."
"Right. But since you don't appear to be a professional at creating them, I thought a reference might serve you well. Pipe dream though it may be, Natsume-kun's work is a perfect fit in both content and quality, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yeah, you're right. It is a tale that a budding genius, the youngest of the Five Eccentrics, spun as if his life depended on it."
This time, with no mockery in his expression, Eichi let himself honestly praise his foe's work as he smiled.
"I appreciate this, Hibiki-kun. A story with my death as a premise isn't something I could ask Keito to write, after all — not when he's the most reluctant to even think about that happening."
Eichi comments as such with deep affection in his tone. Then his eyes widen, as if surprised by his own words.
Perhaps he had remembered that he did have something left to love, despite believing he had lost everything.
"I'll be the one to write it. Because this story will continue on, even when I'm gone."
Moving animatedly, Eichi dyes his finger in the dirt splattered across the bed and begins writing on the reverse side of the papers. The words he produces are messy and unsteady, legible only to him.
"First, I'll be defeated while I'm still alive. After taking the Five Eccentrics down and obtaining everything, I'll become a mad tyrant, and a new generation of heroes will rise to slay me. Those heroes could include Natsume-kun, as the surviving Eccentric, or someone else entirely."
"Right ♪ And after that? What will happen next?"
"There's no point in just letting power change hands. We need the members of society to take the initiative and work to make the world a better place. Yes, so we should aim for a civilian-led revolution next. Then, umm, aah—"
In his fervour, he messes the documents up, then cradles his head in his hands.
"I can't collect my thoughts! I'm no genius, after all! Aah, it's shameful to ask, and it's not something you're obliged to concern yourself with, but— can I ask you to help me plan this out, Hibiki-kun?"
"Of course, I would be happy to ♪ I don't have anything to do either, after all!"
Taking a seat on the bed, Wataru gazes blissfully at Eichi as he zealously begins spinning a new tale.
"I too am excited to see what sort of stage it is that I'll be called to perform on next. Ah, that has always been the epitome of joy in my life!"
"I need more paper! And some stationery! Hibiki-kun, can you pick some up from somewhere?"
"Sure, sure. Say, aren't you supposed to be a fan of mine? Yet here you are ordering me around."
But he smiles as he admits he doesn't mind, and then Wataru begins to move like a bird taking off.
"Now, go forth! Sing! Weave! Create your story! Tragedies become comedies when retold, I'm sure your next work will be a story that is great fun!"
"Enough of that, stop rambling! Hurry! Before I run out of life!"
"Alright, alright. Goodness, you really don't know how to ask favours of people, esteemed author... ♪"
......
And thus, Hibiki Wataru came to help Tenshouin Eichi in the crafting of his story. As they supported each other and engaged in heated discussions, they planned for the future.
Their defeat as fine, the rulers of Yumenosaki Academy, by the revolutionaries Trickstar, is something that would occur past the end of the dismal winter.
In the season where the seeds that the dirtied, weary bird had brought, sprout into flowers.
