A/N: After such a long while, I went back to finish KnB and even listened to Akashi's character album. Double Core is the song which inspired me. Frankly, I'm quite surprised. Given how the truth of his tragic past has come out, why isn't there an explosion of Akashi-related stories? It's been too long since I've returned, so maybe it's a matter of perception. Anyways, I wanted to write about someone who understands Akashi best…And who's better than a twin, in that exact same situation?

…

Chapter 1

…

"After thousands and thousands of dreams, we awaken…

After thousands and thousands of births, we are born.

This, the end, is only the beginning."

~ Dr. Brian Weiss ~

…

Thump. Thump.

Death. It is a strange prospect, really.

Some thinks of it as pure blackness, voided of thoughts, personalities, self. Others think of it as a beginning of something else, reincarnation, per say. And then, there were those select few who thinks of it as a release from anguish, sorrow, hurt, happiness – everything and nothing.

Thump.

He liked to think of himself as one of those few, despite everything.

Thumpthump.

Ah…The tears are falling, aren't they? Before he even changed into the flimsy shirt they gave, tears had already begun streaming down their faces – the faces of his team members, his beloved children. Sempais, kouhais, even those of his own age, the third years had come. Family, friends, rivals…

"…" His mother was crying her eyes out, his father nimbly supporting her with muscular arms.

Apologetic eyes turned towards him. His father was apologizing – he could tell – for every mistake he made as a parent, a friend, even as a stranger. The days of forcing him into the things he hated were forgiven. The single threat of having to win in everything, even the one single sport where he could breathe in, was gone. The boundaries disappeared and vanished.

He became free.

Mamoru smiled.

"No need to look so sad, Mother, Father." He turned to his schoolmates, past, and present. An exasperated sigh fell from his lips. "You too, you wimpy kids."

They sniffled. The next captain in line rubbed his tearing eyes.

"We're not kids, Stupid captain. We're just a year apart…" He sniffled.

"You're still my kids despite everything." He smiled gently, because really, who knows whether this would be the last time he would be smiling at them, teasing them with that word they loathed and loved so much.

Their breaths hitched. Some cried more. Others chose to hold back that rising feeling in their throats – that overwhelming urge to say something to destroy the brittle atmosphere they had winded with their words and tears and everything.

In the end, they chose to say nothing. He spoke before they could.

"I won't die so easily, brats. The surgery will be a success."

His parents' eyes widened and narrowed with grief.

His teammates' brightened with hope.

"R-Really?" The most energetic child leapt up.

"Yup. It's true." He beamed. "So…Don't look so sad."

Those…were the last words he said before he was wheeled into the surgery room. As the doors closed on their faces, the smile he tried to retain with much difficulty faded. Tilting his head back to rest on the hard metal table, he stared blankly, thoughtlessly, into the overwhelmingly bright light above him. The sounds of clanking metal were dimly registered.

Dark eyes narrowed sorrowfully, brimming over with tears.

He hated it: lying to his loved ones.

Their expressions when they figure out the truth are always too painful to look at. The nagging guilt never fades either. He could only imagine his vice-captain's expression when the truth is revealed to him, when the doctor exits with gloves on his hands, face dark as he announces the news.

The surgery only had thirty per cent chance of success.

But…It was enough for him.

If he lives, he would go on to see them in his everyday life. He would still fulfill his promise to his father: In return for those three years of freedom given to him, he would act as an obedient heir of the family, play his role as the perfect man. He would no longer play basketball, but even that is okay.

If he dies…It only means he would become free of everything. But even then, it was still okay.

He was tired of living, tired enough to give it up, but simultaneously, not tired enough to not continue living.

It was an ironic mix. Regardless, he would accept whatever outcome.

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A single sharp pain in his arm later, a mask was placed over his lower face. A rush of gas. The doctor loomed over him, asking questions which made lesser sense by the second. By the time he numbly realized it, his eyes were closing and everything was black.

…Thump…Thump.

…

Thump. Thump. Thump.

In the darkness, the series of 'thump, thump' continued. It was the sound of life, a would-be beautiful, beautiful sound, should he not be made aware that it does not belong to him.

Thump. Thump.

It was deafening. If he lived, shouldn't the hospital staff have done something about the volume?

Thump. Thump.

It's…beginning to become annoying.

An almost knee-jerk reaction, he shifted a limb, hitting something without meaning to.

Another 'thump' was heard, accompanied by a pulse of warmth which lulled him gently into a state of dazed, sleepiness. There was a gurgle, then the distant chuckles of a gentle, gentle woman.

"One of them kicked." She whispered.

…What?

Alarmed, he tried to open his eyes for the first time, but to no avail. It became painfully obvious then, that he was floating amidst a bubble of some fluid of some kind. The silky warmth he had not imagined was wrapped all around him…And he was in a fetus position, in order to accommodate the lack of space.

He wanted to yelp in alarm, but all he did was swallow some fluid.

What- What is – What-

An appendage grazed him. He would have leapt out of his skin, if it was possible in the tight space.

Before long, through the rising panic that refused to register, he realized the appendage was wrapping tiny fingers around him – that thing was a hand, and obviously a very tiny hand, judging by the length of those fingers.

Wha- What-

He curiously reached back and touched the other entity within this space. True. There were two hands, two legs, even a head. It was something shaped suspiciously like a human being.

A sudden thought lodged in his mind, quickly confirmed with aide of the surrounding heat, sounds, feelings and he wanted to laugh, incredulously, exasperatedly, maniacally, whatever adjectives one could use when in such an odd situation.

He had died, afterall.

And he was reincarnated into the body of a fetus.

And he had a twin.

Whatever is one supposed to do in such a situation?

Laugh, of course. And perhaps, cry.

As if sensing his discomfort, the other fetus shifted closer, wrapping taut arms around him in comfort.

Unable to push it back, he allowed the other to do as it wished, instead curling into himself and wondering how he should live his sudden, new life.

Hah. Still, he wanted to cry.

As if mocking him, the series of thumping continued.

Thump. Thump.

…

Akashi Shiori suspected, right from the beginning that one of her sons was not hers.

As her head tilted back to rest against a pillow wearily, her two darling sons were shipped off for their first bath. The head nurse helped her settle into a comfortable position, smiling happily for her as she draped the sheets back over the Akashi woman. Then, her two darlings, wrapped in towels the shade of baby blue and dark blue, were tucked carefully into the crook of either of her arms.

"Hello…" She cooed at one of them.

Closed eyes fluttered, opening to reveal large scarlet orbs, gleaming with pretty innocence in the bright light of the room. The equally scarlet locks framed his face as he opened his lips in an adorable yawn, cuddling into her arms without hesitation.

"He is the older one." The nurse informed her.

She beamed.

The door crashed opened.

"Shiori…!" Masaomi panted heavily. She smiled in exasperation at her husband, still donned in suit to pair off everything formal about him; She didn't doubt that he ran all the way from his workplace to the hospital. As usual, always the stiff, awkward knight in shining armor, he took a hesitant step forward, mildly noticing the fierce glares of all the other nurses in the room, screaming for him to just go to her already!

She laughed. Her older child yawned again.

"Masaomi…!" She exclaimed, brimming with happiness.

Without a second thought, she lifted the older child by a single inch – an inch of movement which usually would not have meant anything to anyone else, but to him, was a nudge towards fatherhood. He stumbled back, eyes wide with a horror that made her laugh again.

"It's your son…! It's our son!" She cuddled the other child happily, nuzzling his cheeks. "Carry him, please…?" She aimed a single pleading look at him.

He cringed. He knows as well as she did that he can never muster the will to defy that look. With trembling, large hands, he reached for the older scarlet haired child, supporting the head and body with a constipated expression picture-worthy for a first time dad.

"Am…Am I doing this correctly?" He tried to regain composure to no avail.

The nurses laughed. Heck. She laughed.

And there was a gurgle of laughter, something that sounded almost like a giggle.

In shock and happiness, she turned her head to gaze at her younger child for the first time, only to be taken aback by the glint of sheer amusement in his large scarlet eyes. Then, as quickly as the gleam had came, it disappeared. Was he…? No, he definitely did it.

A nagging sense of discomfort came to haunt her. It was, however, eradicated the moment the baby nuzzled her arm, scarlet eyes molten with concern at her sudden silence.

It was an unusual behavior, especially for an infant who is supposed to be newborn. He may not have meant it, but his actions only confirmed her suspicions.

The Akashi's are astute, sometimes impossibly so.

"Shiori, is anything wrong?" Masaomi asked.

She blinked and smiled.

"No, there's nothing at all, dear."

And with that single phrase, she pretended that the world was back on the proper axis. For now, it would be imperative to act normal, for fear that her beloved would go mad with paranoia. Masaomi - …No, the Akashi clan head has always been too overprotective. For now, she would take the preliminaries all Akashi are trained to take: Observe, analyze, and take action.

"What will their names be, Shiori?" Masaomi leaned in. In a rare display of affection in public, he combed a hand through her warm brown tresses, a smile revealed only to her.

She returned a warm smile.

"Like we've decided…Seijuro and Satoru." She declared, smiling widely and she kissed the cheek of the child in her arms. He squirmed adorably and she chuckled. He may not be hers, but regardless, she already sees him as hers. "Akashi Seijuro and Akashi Satoru. You're Satoru from today onwards, my dear."

He paused, eyes wide with a deer-in-headlights look.

Shiori smiled wider.

…

"Captain, you're a strange person."

"Kind but cruel, comical yet serious…"

"GYAAAH! It's Captain!"

"The Captain Pokemon: A rare human species with wildly attractive features, attracting females and males of all species. An abnormally cheerful creature, it prefers having large social circles to manipulate and interacts mainly through physical contact-"

His kohai have always loved describing him as a sort of weird alien. Hell. Even his peers and sempai saw him as some kind of weird species. Of course, he thought it was rude of them, but strangely enough, he enjoyed their frazzled responses every time. But that was beside the point.

If the newly terms Akashi Satoru was strange, by all means, he thought Akashi Shiori was another dimension entirely.

The woman clearly noticed his mental age despite his efforts at acting.

When changing diapers or bottle feeding (her doctor said her body was too weak for breast feeding), she would intentionally slip in jokes about going the same thing to some middle-aged man. She would purposely make him slip up by asking high level questions or making crude jokes in the absence of her man. She would even force him to play with Seijuro, releasing the infant in a game of catch with him, him, being the prey, naturally.

It is all very troubling.

He would sigh, if possible, but with his head tucked uncomfortably into baby Seijuro's shoulder, it was difficult to. Seijuro, being the light sleeper he was, would rouse. Not to mention, it would give him ugly wrinkles, so he'd rather not.

Still…To think this is the dimension of Kuroko no Basuke…He wanted to sigh again.

He had realized months after the introduction to his twin's name. It took a dozen of bouts of nostalgia before he finally recalled that manga his vice-captain had introduced to the entire team. Something about all basketball players having to know it…Seeing how he was rarely gung-ho about things, Satoru had let him. But to think it would backfire this time round…

Seijuro shifted in his sleep, pudgy face squashed uncomfortably against Satoru's.

He…really wanted to sigh.

A tiny hand flew up out of the corner of his eyes. With a gasp, he moved in time to avoid pudgy little fingers taking out his eyes. Unfortunately for him, it meant his head was closer to Seijuro's than he liked, and that the hand was now wrapped around his neck, pulling him scarily closer.

Satoru gulped, paling.

As a character, he had certainly admired Akashi Seijuro. Their family situations were too alike for him not to draw parallels. He had even sympathized with the boy's alter-ego situation; He probably would have become like him, too, should he not have made that deal with his Father.

But as a person…Baby Seijuro was adorable, of course. But to think that alter-ego would be part of his brother…The thought is…terrifying, to say the least.

Large scarlet eyes opened dazedly.

"Aaah?" Seijuro stared curiously at him.

He would cringe, but he was already tiring of his own reactions.

Frowning (pouting), he shook off the thoughts and buried his head back into his twin's chest, a wordless signal for Seijuro to go back to sleep.

"'Eep." He uttered, deadpanning at the slur in his own words.

Reincarnation, he decided, is the one thing he hates most henceforth.

Seijuro, being the oblivious angel he was, smiled and patted his neck once in a comforting manner. It wasn't until the tiny chest started heaving up and down did Satoru sleepily recall why the action felt familiar: The first time he had awoken in this world…Seijuro had done that to him, intentionally or not.

He smiled in his sleep, drifting off to a world without troubling redheads and meddlesome Mothers.

…

A single day without said meddlesome Mother at home meant awkward hell, Satoru quickly learnt.

When they had reached one year old, an emergency happened over at the Akashi main house; Shiori had to leave to return to the main house briefly. Satoru knew, of course, that it wasn't simply because of that reason. Otherwise, it would be Masaomi leaving in place of Shiori.

"I'll be back within a week!" Shiori cried as she dodged out of the house.

"Itterashai…" Masaomi whispered, just as the door closed.

Left at the entrance of the large mansion, the helpless, usually work-obsessed husband looked down at his two redheaded children with an emotionless expression and felt his eyes twitch.

Satoru stared right back, making sure to keep his eyes as large and curious and innocent as possible, just like how Seijuro always does. Thank heavens he has Seijuro as a benchmark. Otherwise, his mental age would be straight giveaway. With Masaomi, it was always a tad harder because the man has the personality even a wall would envy, but otherwise, with Shiori's constant (irritating) practice, it became a tad easier.

"Papa!" Seijuro exclaimed happily. He has already spoken his first word a few months ago.

"What should I do?" Masaomi asked.

How should they know? Satoru wanted to reply. Instead, he beamed back at the man.

He positively cannot recall an instant where the man had to act as replacement nanny and change their diapers in Shiori's stead, but as long as they think positive, perhaps it would be possible living through this hellish week.

Perhaps.

Maybe.

There's a teeny tiny possibility.

Nu-Uh.

He gagged the moment the baby food reached his lips. Seijuro burst in tears at once.

"That bad, huh." Masaomi sighed. "In all honesty, I think it looks edible, at least."

Satoru stared at him blankly, giving that single stare that said why-don't-you-try-it-yourself. Masaomi understood easily, given how accustomed he is to using the staring language.

"Okay, I'll try it." He sighed. A mouthful of uncharacteristic spitting and gagging later, both children burst into giggles. Masaomi looks bitter as he plucked out his phone. "In times of emergency, one should always call the police."

Satoru's giggles continued. He wouldn't…His eyes widened when the single adult really pressed the call button, calling the police to aid such a situation, of all things. What is he going to say? 'There has been a domestic situation, so please help'?

"Pa…" Masaomi looked up. "Papa!"

The phone drooped in his hands. His expression was frozen, lips dropping in shock.

"Y-you…You just…called me 'papa'…?"

Satoru wanted to facefault at once. He doesn't speak often, not much at least. He never planned to speak so early on either, mostly fearing that dam of accidental words it may unleash in subsequent future.

"Papa…!" He yelled again, trying to at least steal the mad man's attention away from his phone.

Alas, nothing seems to work against the ever illogical Akashi and their seemingly inherited craziness.

"Hello. Yes, I have a problem on my hands."

Satoru frowned (pouted), turning back to the still sniffling Seijuro. It wasn't his fault if Shiori returned to find the police babysitting them.

"Could you pass the call to Akashi Meilin? There is an emergency at the house."

Scarlet eyes widened at the name. He sweatdropped, facepalming as Masaomi continued talking distractedly on the phone. Ah. So it was one of those many Akashi clan members with their diverse occupations.

"'atoru?" Seijuro tilted his head, beads of tears still at the corners of his eyes.

This time, he really did sigh.

…

Grandfathers are weird, he decided at the age of two. He never had had a grandfather in his past life, but his first impression of the one in this life is just…strange. He'd like to think that strangeness is an inherited trait in the Akashi line, diminishing with each subsequent generation (which explains Seijuro's normalcy).

"Oh…So these are my grandsons…They're so cute…" He swooned, eyes wide as he stared at them.

Satoru wanted to laugh, but instead, he maintained the same innocent expression he had copied off Seijuro two years ago.

The man is large, muscular form obvious even under the thick layers of kimono. With long white hair to mash with everything, he seems just as formal, if not more, as their Father. The intimidating aura was stronger too. Was, being the key word.

The expression didn't fit.

"Hehe…Would you like to carry Satoru, Father?" Shiori giggled.

"Eh…! I- I- I-Can I?!" Akashi Takamura lifted shaking hands.

Satoru felt a pit of dread forming as Shiori beamed, sparkles and flowers and all appearing around her face. His mother…is merciless. He momentarily pondered breaking cover and ducking away from the man. It seems worth it, given how his Grandfather is now trembling even in the legs.

"Of course you can. He's your grandson afterall." She said the accursed words.

Satoru paled as she handed him out to Takamura.

He prayed to not be dropped. He prayed to not be dropped-

The pair of large hands that received him was surprisingly gentle and firm despite their previous trembling. No, in fact, they felt even sturdier and more confident than Masaomi's grip.

He found himself turned around, large scarlet eyes rising to meet the slanted red eyes of his grandfather.

What- What should he do? Should he giggle, laugh or cry? He certainly felt plenty ready to burst into a fit of tears at this point; The man is simply that intimidating close up. But then again, he had met plenty other more intimidating men in his past life, so…

He chose the path of giggles.

"Hehe!" With a laugh, he reached up and tugged the long white goatee, smiling at the surprised look on his grandfather's face. It quickly melted into bliss.

"You're cute, aren't you, little Satoru? You're cute~" Takamura cooed.

"Father…" Shiori smiled, exasperated with his reaction. "You shouldn't encourage him. He would do that to my hair much later on."

"Satoru is a good boy, so I doubt he would." Takamura beamed. "You wouldn't, would you, Satoru?"

"I wouldn't, Grandpa." He replied obediently, forming that same smile Shiori often use to charm Masaomi.

At once, the expression of bliss exploded into euphoria.

"He called me 'Grandpa'…He called me 'Grandpa', Shiori!" He yelled.

"Indeed, he did." Shiori replied indulgently.

"Ah…What happiness. After so many years of living, I finally got myself a grandson, and he's so adorable. It was worth it afterall…Looking over the clan even when you're gone…Grandma, if only you're still here to see this~!" A bead of tear actually slid out from his eyes as he yelled passionately into the skies.

Satoru wondered how he should react to that. Even Shiori had sweatdropped. He felt dumbfounded to find Seijuro hiding behind their Mother, staring at the man with an obvious look of distrust. Seijuro may be maturing quickly, but that typical child instinct to trust everyone was not yet gone. For him to suspect the man…

Well…In such cases, just play along, right?

With tiny hands, Satoru reached up and wiped the tear from the large man's face, summoning tears to his eyes. He sniffled.

"Grandpa…Why are you sad?"

Takamura gasped, as if an arrow shot through his heart.

"Grandpa's not sad! I'm just so happy I could cry, Satoru-chan~!" He squeezed him with just enough strength and control to not hurt, but feel pleasantly tight.

It was then that Satoru got his first hint. With how used to handling kids Takamura appears to be, this reaction to one of such grandkids must be an exaggeration of his exact emotion. For whose sake, he wasn't quite not sure. Maybe it was a subtle message to him, or even just plain theatrics for the fun of being able to see his Mother's expression contort in shock.

Whichever the case, he decided to play along. Afterall, Shiori's astonished expression was something he'd be happy to see, especially right after she dumped him into his Grandpa's merciless care.

"Grandpa…"

"Satoru…"

"Grandpa…!"

"Satoru…!"

Their theatrics reached an entirely different level; an actual sunset background appeared behind them.

Shiori and Seijuro's expressions were laughable.

…

"How did the meeting with your Grandpa go?" Masaomi asked later that night as they arranged the futon.

The Akashi clan had many houses, but the true main house was the Japanese-styled manor which Takamura and many other Akashi's stayed in – one which the couple refused to live in due to 'personal reasons', despite being the head family. While the main house had kindly offered two rooms, Shiori had wanted a 'family-like' atmosphere so they camped out in one single large room instead.

"Grandpa is…strange." Seijuro summarized in a single word.

The progress is slow, but Satoru could see Seijuro turning into the strict, no-fun person he would be in the future. Even his speech patterns are gradually becoming more mature, following the example of both parents.

It made him slightly anxious, to be honest. Thus, he tried to become more light-hearted, if only to retain the childish innocence that was quickly disappearing from Seijuro's eyes.

"The old man is fun!" He exclaimed, kicking a pillow high up into the air.

"Satoru…Don't call your Grandpa that." Masaomi reproached. "Be respectful to him."

He pouted, turning around onto his tummy.

"But he is old!"

"He is old, indeed." Shiori chuckled.

"You're old too, Papa!" A vein pulsed on Masaomi's head.

"Call me 'Father'. And I'm only twenty-five, that is not old, by society's standards."

"Still older compared to us!" Satoru grinned, winking at his twin. Seijuro tilted his head. "Ne, Sei-chan?"

The more obedient twin thought for a second.

"Indeed." He nodded.

Shiori stifled her laughs. Masaomi twitched and stood, stomping past the poor tatami.

As his figure loomed over the still eagle-spread Satoru, the rebellious twin's face slowly drained of colour. He gulped, a loud sound compared to the silence that suddenly fell over the room. With trembling hands, he pushed himself up and squeaked softly.

"Pa…Papa?" Maybe he went too far…

Within a heartbeat, the man had squatted, reaching towards him with large hands. Satoru instantaneously became too aware of how those hands are much larger than his head…He gulped again.

"Punish you." Masaomi voiced.

"Hu…Huh?"

In the next instant, he found large fingers digging into his sides, dragging up and down his most sensitive spots relentlessly. An explosion of laughter erupted. He cried as his father blankly carried out his 'punishment', oblivious to a smiling Shiori and a softly laughing Seijuro.

"Pap- Hahaha…No…!" He laughed.

As he opened his eyes in the middle of his fit, he caught a glimpse of a curve forming upon the man's lips.

His eyes widened.

Then as sudden as it came, it disappeared.

…

A toilet trip in the night brought him walking past his Grandpa's room.

The door was ajar, and through the slight creak, he saw Takamura standing at the door to the garden, hair and kimono fluttering as the wind brushed past. This, he realized numbly, is the true head of the Akashi household, the one his Father was trying to live up to, the one hidden beneath that humorous theatrics in the afternoon.

Takamura turned, scarlet eyes landing on equally scarlet eyes for a brief moment.

Satoru jumped, dodging behind the door at once.

There was a chuckle, one in a deep tone that was layered with an intimidating aura, and the sounds of shuffling were heard.

"Don't need to be sneaky. Come over and join me, Satoru."

He hesitated. What if this is a trap? But then again, why would he want to trap him?

Without another thought, he entered the room, pushing the door closed. Heart thumping in that steady, rhythmic tune that started it all, he walked and kneeled on the only other cushion in the room- one opposite Takamura and the tea set. There was a rather stiff feeling in the room, one which made him feel like an actor playing out a script while ad lib-ing. It was…nostalgic.

Takamura sipped at his tea.

Wanting to break the terse silence, Satoru smiled.

"Coffee is better, you know?" He commented needlessly.

Takamura shrugged, smiling wryly.

"But my wife has always liked tea, so it's my only option." He replied.

Another silence. Another sip. Then, the play started.

"Who…are you?"

It was like Shogi, Satoru mused. In the silence of the room, his words were a single clear thud, the sound of shogi pieces hitting the board with overwhelming certainty.

There were many options open to him. He could reply with almost anything, in fact. A son. A grandson. A reincarnated person. An ex-captain of a basketball team. A previously perfect heir to another household.

He breathed and he chose that one role he was sure to devote himself entirely to in this life.

"Just…Sei-chan's little brother." He smiled.

Takamura took in his words and smiled.

"…I see." He swirled the tea in the cup. "Well, Sei-chan's little brother, I hope I can entrust Seijuro to your capable hands henceforth. The clan elders are becoming…noisy, over the matters of a clan heir that young and impressionable. They cannot wait to sink their claws into the boy."

Satoru frowned.

So this is the reason for their visit here. To affirm Seijuro's position as the next clan heir…And perhaps, to warn Kenshi to start taking actions to train Seijuro to become an impeccable, unmoving clan heir.

"Please…Protect him."

There was a glint in his grandfather's eyes, a glint of urgency and pain and happiness that felt painfully familiar and nostalgic. It took mere moments to remember where he had seen those eyes – Because for a period of time, he had seen those eyes every day in the mirror – It was mind jolting, because the epiphany it gave him numbed his mind-

-Takamura reminded him of himself, just weeks before he would die.

Thump.

Thump. Thump.

Satoru breathed, pursuing his lips, and he smiled.

"You're still not dead yet, Old Man, so don't go leaving much desired burdens on other people."

His words took the old man back by surprise. Takamura smiled, slowly, gradually, before tossing his head back in laughter. And Satoru smiled, because he knew he had said exactly what Takamura secretly wanted him to say.

"You're a strange guy, Satoru." The old man said.

"It isn't the first time I've heard that." He shrugged. "More importantly, can I drink this cup of tea? It's an offering to someone dead, isn't it?" He smiled lazily up at the old man, and Takamura laughed once more.

"Sure. I'm sure my wife wouldn't mind."

…

A/N: Please share your opinions with me!