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His emotions flow with the colors of life; his goal stains the pure white canvas black.
It’s the faint awareness in his actions — in the wish he wants to accomplish. One where his interests interfere poorly with the outcome of said goal. An irony he’s thought over and over with great intention.
Where phantometals cease to be used.
Where phantom lives won’t continue.
When he says he doesn’t mind? It’s probably the most obvious lie he’s ever said.
(That’s what Itsuki tells him, anyways.)
Maybe because, somewhere in his heart, he doesn’t want to stop making music. It’s a love that runs deep through childhood — through memories — that he holds some reservations about the thought.
Though, he lets the idea go.
A sigh through the nose, a pang against his chest, and a hand running through his hair late at night. The bright glow of his laptop enlists many tabs from his recent research. Alter Trigger typed into the search bar and mere scraps of websites that pop up. All unrelated, all the information he can grasp within reach.
The heavy thought of music and phantom lives flashes in his mind—
The thought smothers immediately when he feels Rokuta snuggle into his side.
Right… The cold night blankets Kei, taking his younger brother’s hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. Everything quells down and his duty as an older brother comes to reinforce his plans. Reignited determination holds his reservations down.
“Right…” Kei says aloud this time. “Music… I shouldn’t let myself be blinded.” It’s quiet, this newfound way of asserting the mess in his head, rubbing the heel of his hand in his eye to keep himself awake.
The excitement of phantometals is nothing more than temptation. A poison that forces others to indulge in its thrill and magical glamor.
Something dangerous that erodes others in exchange for their life in music.
He takes another breath. It’s alright. He doesn’t mind dropping it all. No, not at all.
To stop making music…
A sacrifice worth taking for his brother.
For Minori…
Healing through music…
Kei doesn’t exactly know why he has such a gift. Truthfully, he hasn’t the foggiest idea what it’s meant for him nor why it’s gifted to him. Questions often were raised at him for it for quite a while now. The charm that soothes the heart of others when he lets the lyrics flow from his heart and into the music he makes. A genius, everyone called him.
Although never the pessimistic type, he can’t truly accept the kind words and looks of awe. Even then, even now.
He doesn’t like the title for reasons:
One, it discards the effort he makes as ‘natural talent’ born in his being. A compliment that leaves a bitter aftertaste, but he’s not simple-minded. He knows it’s often well-meant.
Two, it’s caused a strain in his feelings with music these days. Despite all the amazement in how his music can bring respite to those around him, what good is its ‘healing’ if it can’t heal his brother?
For how can he be a genius if his plans can’t save his brother —and others— from the cruel fate of metal erosion?
He’s no genius.
Not even close to it.
Still, he must try, no?
This gift of his… If it can truly warm the cockles of one’s heart, then who’s to say that same power can’t grant him access to stopping the evil from spreading?
Then maybe, just maybe—
Kei confides his plans to Itsuki.
“—let’s end the phantom lives. To stop the hurting.”
It goes along a lot smoother than he thought when Itsuki accepts to go hand-in-hand with his ideals. How grateful he is with the boy whose emotions are forever locked behind an iron wall. Whose emotions come at its rawest at the cost of using the devil’s weapon.
(He remembers staying by his side when he collapses on his knees, words and logic in shambles as he spurs things about that room and those people in his erratic moments.
Kei has a feeling of what it is, though. Instead, he stays by his side. His goal of abolishing the phantometals are sheathed for another day as he rubs comforting circles on the seventeen-year-old’s back.
Sitting there as support, careful in his gestures, until the trap reaction comes and goes.
For his new brother; for his new family.)
Kei, however, worries about bringing him too deep into his plans with Rokuta. He’s grateful for their willingness, but the lengths to sacrifice it all with him.
To save them, it’s why he returns to the music world. To the sounds and life he once abandoned in order to find closure with his brothers.
Yet, here he is, bringing them back into the world that can tear them apart.
(A strange part of him feels glad to return to his roots in music. Even after everything it’s done to Itsuki and Rokuta. What harm it’s done through trap reactions and the experiments happened upon with Alter Trigger.
What’s wrong with him?)
They’re adamant in sticking through —with him— until the very end. As 1Nm8, they’ll bring their sound to heal the tainted minds of phantometal users.
If they succeed, and they must, then this should be fine. He prays that it succeeds.
For everyone.
This power that has been blessed upon him by god… is the least he can do.
The battle with The Cat’s Whiskers leaves a bigger impact on him than Kei likes to admit.
How strong does that power have on them? On any of them for that matter? On the contrary to what he’s told them, the fire in their rhythm grew, and their sound doesn’t waver at his news at all.
Not that he’d wanted them to throw the towel, but it prods at him severely.
A connection formed through the cursed power… Is such a thing really powerful?
Their song is incomparable to theirs when their drive fights for what they believe in. It almost turns that gift from god he believes in into nothing in comparison.
His eyes travel down to the note regarding his round robin chance against the other teams who lost. Tough competition between all the others… Kei draws back a sigh, his chest constricting.
One final chance at reaching their goal.
Their last chance in freeing everyone…
In saving them both…
The other room has Rokuta’s snores pouring out of the open door — Kei forgets to shut it behind him properly, he realizes. Both him and Itsuki rested early after the news of their defeat reached them. He wonders what they’d say to him in his current state, awake and alone. Their goal being a lot farther than how it began.
Itsuki’s been silent for the past couple of days and Rokuta… He’s hiding something. A gut feeling, but he doesn’t pry. A small distance in his true feelings and more to not worry him.
It doesn’t lessen in the slightest.
Has he started losing more of his memories? He bites his lower lip.
Did he make a mistake? Bringing them onto his plan with pure confidence he’d lead them to the next round? Or was that simply arrogance for thinking he could purify the world so easily?
Sure, it wasn’t foolproof but…
Something drops in the pits of his stomach. Anxiety? Uneasiness? The teen doesn’t have a label for the boiling tension in his stomach. The cold grip of doubt slithering down his spine.
Perhaps it’s payback for his overconfidence… Rather ironic, getting full of himself, and he shudders. Forehead pressed against the cold slab of the kitchen island, hunched over to hide the coward within him from the consequences of his decision.
From the cruel retribution of using God’s gift to destroy the phantom lives with those very phantometals.
The punishment of playing God with great hypocrisy.
Oh, the irony.