A Dream of Reality
a 'Here is Greenwood' story
by Lady Koneko
-Chapter One 'Awakening to Reality'

Mitsuru sighed. It was another beautiful day at Greenwood. The Hasukawa Kazuya - Iragashi Miya incident had ended peacefully, Nagisa had not been seen for several months, and Misako and her ghost friends had finally agreed not to enter the bathing rooms and individual dorm rooms without a direct, spoken invitation. School was to end in a month's time, and for two people, life would never be the same.

He was sitting at his desk, half-heartedly leafing through his history text. A whole era of his life would be ending soon, his high school life. Things would never be the same. He and Shinobu were going to follow on the plans they had made years ago, moving into an apartment together and going to collage. They had already received their acceptances to Sengoku University, and they would be living in Shinobu's apartment in Ueno that he had inherited from his maternal grandmother. It would be a bit of a commute, but it would be well worth it. Everything was going along perfectly, but there was something... just on the edge of his awareness... that was bothering him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Whatever it was, it was persistent, he had been having this same feeling on and off for nearly two years now, that something was just off-kilter with how things should be, but he was never able to pinpoint it. Something would just happen, and he would have this feeling, somewhat like deja vu but not, that ~that~ was not how things were suppose to be. His first meeting with Shun was a perfect example, and the first time this... whatever this feeling was, occurred.

The school year had just ended, and the new borders were just arriving. The couple that lived next door in room 210 had left the day before, and the new residents were moving in that day. Well, one of them was. Grapevine had it that the second was in the hospital and wouldn't be arriving for several weeks. He had been lying on his bed, the door open, reading a magazine. Shinobu had gone off somewhere, he said he would return in several hours and Mitsuru knew that, curiosity notwithstanding; that he would not find out where Shinobu went. The sounds of the new students were loud coming through the half-open door, and he had just come to the reluctant decision to move and close the door, when he heard a familiar gay laugh. He put aside the magazine and jumped off the bed, curious because he had no memories of having heard this laugh, but he ~knew~ the laugh. He pushed open the door and propped himself against the doorframe and watched as a perky girl with long pink hair and rose-pink eyes in a yellow jumper literally bounced up the stairs. His eyes narrowed, and the feeling that something was wrong hit him between the eyes. This girl was familiar to him, he knew her, yet he had never met her. As she approached, he noticed something disturbing. She was not a girl. The feminine person approaching him was male, but for some reason he could not shake the feeling that he ~was~ a girl. Then s/he saw him and bounced over to him, beaming, introducing him/herself as Kisaragi Shun, first year student at Ryokuto Academy and new resident of room 210. Mitsuru had near sweat-dropped; then he had introduced himself. Shun gave him a huge, kawaii grin and said how wonderful the year was going to be, how s/he was sure they would be great friends and a whole lot of other babble that he was hard pressed to keep up with. Before his eyes could glaze over, an announcement came over the intercom that his luggage had arrived, and before the message was over, Shun was already halfway down the stairs.

That had not been the only incident, either. He experienced the same feeling with near half the students living at Greenwood after that first time, including those he already knew, only not so intensely. Then at school, he had the same feeling he had experienced with Shun when he encountered Hasukawa Kazuhiro, the school nurse. When he first met Kazuya, the feeling had hit him so hard he had nearly passed out. He covered it well, no one noticed, but it had been a close thing. It was almost the same with Misako, but she had near scared the life out of him at first meeting, and that had gone far in overpowered the strange feeling of familiarity.

But now, now the feeling was different. Not focused on a person or an event, but seemingly involved everything. He had been having that off-kilter feeling for the last several months, every time he thought about life after Greenwood, making him unable to focus on anything until he dropped the thought.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to relive the pressure that had built behind his eyes. As the months had gone by, and graduation grew closer, the feeling that something was wrong grew stronger, and the pressure built. Lately the pressure and the dull ache it caused was a constant companion, and the others had started to notice that something was wrong with him. Just last week, Kazuya had asked if there was something wrong, that he seemed distracted at odd times. For Kazuya to say this, it had to have been obvious. Shinobu had been watching him, not saying anything but giving him worried looks every now and then.

And then, as though the thought of his roommate was a trigger, the feeling hit him full force, the not-quite painful pressure behind his eyes exploding, sending daggers stabbing his mind. He clutched his head with his hands; digging his fingers into his hair tightly and a keening moan escaping his lips. The pain grew, intensified, and dimly beyond the pain he could hear voices calling him, a chanting, and the soft sounds of chimes.

With a low, pain-filled moan, Mitsuru collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

* * * * *

A low thrum of voices was the first thing he became aware of. Soft, faint, muffled, they lured him out of the darkness and gave him something to focus on. He had no idea how long the voices had been there, it seemed that they always had been, and it was comforting. But comfort could only last for so long, and now he reached for the voices, trying to touch them, to be with them. A dull ache built around him as he concentrated, the voices grew stronger, and he could make out two voices out of the canopy of sound. One was male, a pitched tenor, and the other female, a soprano. Both sounded... worried? Strained? He frowned, and it seemed as if his body was at a distance, on the other side of a clear wall that he could not reach past. Cautiously, he ran mental fingers across the wall, on the other side was the voices, was the light, and behind him darkness and oblivion. With a wave of determination, he drew all his strength and threw himself against the wall.

There was the sound of glass cracking, and then the familiar chorus of chimes as the wall broke, shattering into thousands of motes of sparkling light.

* * * * *

"I think he is coming around," Kazuya said urgently to his companion, his gaze locked on the silent figure resting on the bed. She rushed to the other side, across from Kazuya, her fists practically shoved into her mouth. On the bed, the figure moved, his arm jerking, his hand balling up into a fist. Misako gasped, tears welling in her eyes as a pair of amethyst eyes slowly blinked open to stare blurrily up at the ceiling.

"Mitsuru!" Kazuya gasped, grasping the bed rail tightly in his hands. "Can you hear me?"

"Mmmmmh..." Mitsuru turned and looked over at the frantic redhead who was half leaning over him. "Kazu? Wha... where am I? What is going on?"

Kazuya nearly collapsed in relief at the sound of his voice. "Mitsuru, Gods, we were afraid you would never wake up."

Mitsuru frowned. Something was not right here, now wasn't ~that~ a familiar feeling. He was feeling muddle-headed, like he had been awakened from a long sleep. Kazuya was calling him by his given name, not senpai or Mitsuru-senpai like he always did, which was strange. But he did sound worried... He looked around the room, his focus coming clearer, and realized he was in a hospital room. Wha...? he frowned as he looked at the IV drip in his arm. Then the sound of low muffled sobs caught his attention and he turned his head. Standing on the other side of the bed was Misako, tears welling in her eyes and her hands clenched together over her heart. Behind her, standing next to the window and looking out it was Shinobu.

"What happened?" Mitsuru asked, wincing at the hoarse sound of his voice. His throat hurt when he spoke, it was like he hadn't spoken for a long period of time.

"You were hit by a truck at the crosswalk," Kazuya told him, sinking down in a chair next to the bed. "It was a runaway, and you barely pushed Misako out of the way before it hit you. You have been in a coma for nearly three months."

Coma? Three months? Mitsuru tried to make sense of that -his last memory was sitting at his desk in his room- when everything that Kazuya said sank in. Wait... What? Pushed Misako? What is he talking about? Misako is a ghost; she has no physical body. How could I push her out of the way? "Misako...?"

"Mitsuniichan!" Misako wailed, throwing herself onto Mitsuru and crying. "I was so scared that you would die, and it would have been all my fault! I am so sorry Mitsuniichan!" Misako grabbed a fistful of the thin blanket covering him and buried her tear-stained face into Mitsuru's chest. Mitsuru gave her a startled and a bit fearful look. She was touching him. She was a ghost, and she was touching him. And calling him niichan... He gave Kazuya a frantic look, and saw tears swimming in Kazuya's burgundy eyes.

No, no, this is wrong. This is beyond wrong. Mitsuru shook his head in denial, a faint rushing in his ears as a familiar darkness started to encroach on him, then looked to the last chance of stability in the room, the rock that everyone in Greenwood looked to for support in dire trouble. Shinobu. He was still staring out the window, seemingly paying no attention to the commotion at the bed. But Mitsuru knew that wasn't true, there was stiffness around his roommate that said that he was worried about something.

"Shinobu..." he whispered pleadingly. Please tell me this is some joke that you are perpetrating. Please tell me that everything is okay.

For a moment he thought that Shinobu's keen hearing had failed him, as the silver haired teen continued to stare out the window. A near imperceptible change in his posture alerted Mitsuru that this was not so, and a moment later Shinobu turned to face Mitsuru, his dark green eyes grave. Mitsuru watched as his friend ran his hand through his hair in an unaccustomed troubled way; an unfamiliar silver ring on his left pinky finger catching the sun. He felt a twinge of worry; he had never seen Shinobu this troubled before. They stared at each other for a moment, pleading violet into cool green. Then, as Mitsuru watched in shocked silence, Shinobu shook his head and turned away, refusing to look at him. Then, before his unbelieving eyes, Shinobu faded completely from view.

This was too much for Mitsuru to deal with. With a quiet calmness, he welcomed the darkness that hovered on the edge of his awareness and fell into the waiting embrace of a dead faint.

* * * * *

Mitsuru woke an undetermined time later. He slowly blinked his eyes and gazed around the room. The lights were set on dim; and the room was empty of all other people. He lifted his arm, looking at the IV; then dropped it. He was in a hospital. Mitsuru closed his eyes, thinking back, trying to figure out why he was here. The last thing he remembered before the hospital was sitting in his room... at his desk... thinking about graduation and the ever-present sense that something was wrong. He had thought of Shinobu... and... he paused as he realized something. The pressure behind his eyes was gone. When he had thought of Shinobu, the pain caused by the pressure had become so intense that it had knocked him out, he was sure of it. But now, the pressure was gone, and he was in no pain for the first time in months.

I passed out from the pain, and someone found me. Probably Shinobu, Kazuya or Shun. The door had been shut, and only they would disturb him at the time. Unless, of course, Misako had chosen to reappear right then and had found him. Someone probably called an ambulance when I didn't wake up, and that is why I am here. That ~does~ not explain what happened earlier when I woke up. Or had he? Mitsuru frowned. Maybe ~that~ had been a dream, and this was the first time he had regained consciousness. That made more sense than Misako calling him big brother and saying he had been hit by a truck, which was how Misako herself had died. So now I wait for the doctor, find out what is wrong, and go back to the dorm...

Right then the door to his room swung open and someone switched the overhead light on. Mitsuru muttered something unflattering under his breath as he instinctively covered his eyes from the over bright hospital lighting.

"I see that the earlier reports about you finally waking up were true," a familiar voice said jokingly. Mitsuru removed his arms; eyes blinking from the bright light as he watched a tall form in a white medical coat walked to the foot of his bed and removed a clipboard. "The twins said you were a bit disoriented when you regained consciousness earlier today, which is highly expected from someone coming out of a coma." Hasukawa Kazuhiro beamed at Mitsuru before he scribbled something on the clipboard and moved to the head of the bed. "I need to check you over," he said, pulling out a penlight from his front pocket. Mitsuru remained silent as Kazuya's brother checked his eyes, pulse and breathing. "Well, you seem healthy enough for a sixteen year old who has just awoken from a three month coma, but," Kazuhiro gave Mitsuru a familiar mocking look. "You are being much too quiet. I expected you to say ~something~ especially after that warm greeting I received."

"The twins?" Mitsuru asked hoarsely. The whole scene was taking on a surreal turn. Kazuhiro was ~not~ a nurse at the hospital. Why was he here? And who were these twins he was talking about. A three-month coma - that is what Kazuya had said in the dream

Kazuhiro frowned at the slightly panicked look in Mitsuru's eyes. "What do you remember of the accident Mitsuru?" he asked, now all serious.

"Nothing," Mitsuru said, keeping a cautious eye on the nurse. He was not going to say any more than he had too until he figured out what was going on. "Kazuya mentioned it when I woke up. Misako..." he nearly stumbled over the name but he had to see Kazuhiro's reaction to it. He had never met the ghost. "said that it was all her fault."

The young nurse sighed and shook his head. "We have been telling her that none of this was her fault, but she insists that it is. The truck was a runaway, it was only natural that her elder brother should push her out of the way..." he paused for a second as Mitsuru's eyes dilated with shock. "Mitsuru!"

Mitsuru had started to shake his head wildly, panic seeping and taking hold as he realized that, while he was awake, he was still living the earlier dream. He struggled to sit up, his weak muscles not obeying. "Misako is not my sister! She is a ghost! A crazy ghost who is haunting me because she thinks she is in love with me!"

"Mitsuru!" Kazuhiro gripped Mitsuru by the shoulders, holding him firmly and pushed him back against the bed. Despite his marital arts training, Kazuhiro had no problem holding him down in his weakened state. "Calm down! If you don't I will be forced to tranquilize you."

With a force of effort that left him trembling and panting, Mitsuru fought to calm himself. For some reason, the idea of being sedated terrified him. After several tense minutes and deep breaths, Mitsuru relaxed his body and stared up at the nurse with a highly suspicious look. "Okay, I am calmed down." Kazuhiro gave him a quick nod, released his shoulders and took a step back. "But I want you to answer some questions of mine first." The nurse nodded again. "How long have I been here?"

Kazuhiro sighed, pushing up his glasses. He had half expected that question when he first entered the room. "You have been here for nearly three months. Prior to that, you spent several days in ICU under observation."

Mitsuru swallowed. Okay. "Kazuya and Misako said there was an accident. How badly was I hurt?"

"The truck only grazed you, causing cracking and bruising of the ribs on your right side. The impact of the landing caused the most damage. You skidded several feet along the road, scraping your cheek and forehead pretty badly. That healed with no problems, strangely enough. The paramedics had never seen anything like that before. Your clothing saved the rest of you from similar damage. You struck the right side of your head and shoulder when you first landed, however, causing a dislocated shoulder and a concussion. You were in a coma when you arrived at the ER."

Mitsuru shivered. Sounded pretty bad. "A coma? Why?"

Kazuhiro frowned. "We don't know why. The concussion was mild, and the impact did not cause any swelling of the brain that the doctors were able to discover. There is no medical reason as far as the doctors could tell for you to have been in a coma. The ambulance team said you were conscious and alert when they arrived on the scene, but you slipped into unconsciousness during the ambulance ride. The last thing they said you said was 'patience'.

Patience? Mitsuru frowned, thinking. Shinobu. He had asked for Shinobu on the way to the hospital. Well, that made sense. Shinobu was his best friend and roommate, after all. Mitsuru gave Kazuhiro a searching look. Now it was time to ask the risky questions.

"Who are these twins you mentioned, and... did you say sixteen years old?"

Kazuhiro gave Mitsuru a level look, then pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. He rested his hands in his lap and stared at Mitsuru for a long moment. "You don't know who the twins are, or how old you are, do you? Do you know your name or who I am?"

Mitsuru gave the nurse a slightly disgusted, exasperated look. "I know who I am, and I know who you are. I am Ikeda Mitsuru and you are Hasukawa Kazuhiro, Kazuya's elder brother. I am seventeen, going on eighteen, and I have no clue as to who the twins are, otherwise I wouldn't have asked..." As he spoke, he watched Kazuhiro's face grow more and more grave. "What?" Mitsuru demanded as the steadily growing graver expression on the nurse's face started to worry him.

"I think I am going to need to call the doctor in to talk to you, Mitsuru. There seems to be some alarming gaps and discrepancies in your memory." Kazuhiro was totally serious now. "Your name is Hayashi Mitsuru, not Ikeda. That is the family name of your best friend. Kazuya is your younger brother, not mine. Misako is your sister, Kazuya's twin."

* * * * *

Mitsuru lay silently on his bed, looking at the wall. At least he had been told it was his bed, in his room, at his home. He had no memory of it at all. It had been a week since he had first regained consciousness at the hospital, and nothing since Kazuya had first spoke to him had been familiar.

After Kazuhiro had come to check up on him, the doctor had come to see him, concerned by what the nurse had told him. The doctor had asked him tons of questions, ranging from questions about friends and family to various events of his childhood. Not really sure why, Mitsuru had lied about most of it, deciding to cop full amnesia. The similarities of what Kazuhiro had told him and his own memories made him suspicious, and he had not at the time ruled out that this was an elaborate production being preformed for some strange reason, though he had decided that if that scenario was true, that Shinobu had no part of playing with it. Something of this production was not his style. When the doctors asked him about the discrepancies that Kazuhiro had noted, Mitsuru had shook his head and had given them his best 'I haven't a clue' look.

As the days passed, it began to look to Mitsuru as though his hospital stay was not someone's sorry idea of an elaborate joke. It was real. His muscles had indeed atrophied, the result of long bed rest, and it took a week of steady physical therapy to rebuild his muscles to where he was able to walk under his own power. The doctors ran numerous tests and CAT scans, and came up with nothing. The doctors believed it was some sort of traumatic amnesia caused by the accident. When it came time to release him, a week after he regained consciousness, his 'memory' had yet to return. The doctors could not give his parents any diagnosis on when, or if his memory would return, and, if it did, how complete it would be. Amnesia was tricky. It was highly possible, they had told his parents, that Mitsuru just might not remember anything from before the accident. He had heard the discussion, and kept silent. He had not told anyone that he had a full seventeen years of memory, and that his memory did not jive with what they were telling him it should be. He had the unwelcome feeling that if the doctors found out, that he would be spending time in a different medical institution, one with white padded walls. So he kept quiet, and at the end of the week, when he no longer required a wheelchair and the doctors deemed him fit enough to leave, he was released into his family's care.

He was not sure what to think about being 'home'. He still lived in Uguisudani, but on the other side of the district from the Kohryu Temple that he remembered growing up in. He even remembered this house, having seen it many times growing up. But as he remembered it, it was abandoned, rumored to be haunted. He had even entered it once andhe paused, thinking back.

Yes... he had entered it on a dare back when he was in junior high and messing around with the gangs. They were all afraid of the house, and he, the monk's son, was going in to prove that there was nothing haunting the place. He had entered one night... and... he had known the layout of the house. Strange. He hadn't really thought about it back then, but now... He had entered the house, an old Victorian style home with three stories and a tower, and he had walked to the staircase, not even needing the flashlight to see by. He had gone up the stairs, turned to the right, and entered - he stilled as he remembered something else - had entered this very room.

Slowly, Mitsuru sat up. This room, ~his~ room, had a window seat facing the street. He had walked over to it back then, lifted the seat, and had looked into the empty storage space. For some reason, he had reached down and pushed against one of the boards, and it had lifted, enabling him to slide it out of the way and showing an empty recess below. It had been empty, and he remembered being strangely distressed when he had saw that, reaching in and feeling around, trying to find the ~something~ that he had known should be there. He swung his feet off the bed and stood up, slowly walking to the window. He had felt out of sorts for days after that; then the memory had faded away. He hadn't really thought about it, until now.

Without even thinking about it, he sank to his knees before the window seat and lifted the top. He had to know. Inside were old books, children's storybooks, photo albums and yearbooks. Meticulously he lifted them out and stacked them on the floor next to him, not even giving them a quick look. They weren't important at the moment. He had to see if they were there, what he had expected to find five years ago when he had lifted the seat and uncovered the hiding place beneath. With a shaking hand, Mitsuru pushed down on the board, lifting one side of it, and pushed it aside. In the dimly lit space below, just as he had known they would be, was a collection of hand-written journals.

His journals.

* * * * *

Kazuya shook his head slightly as he walked up the stairs, a tray laden with sandwiches and tea carefully held in his hands. Today was Mitsuru's first full day back from the hospital, and The Parents had decided that he should stay home from school with him. Misako had protested loudly, she wanted to be the one to stay with Mitsuru, but their father had convinced her that she needed to collect all the schoolwork that Mitsuru had missed during his coma, and that he would be happy that she had done so. Besides, their father had told her, Mitsuru was still very weak and she would not be strong enough to help him if he needed it like Kazuya was. Misako had finally given in to their father, more from the fact that she really wasn't strong enough to help Mitsuru if he needed her than from the need for her to gather homework. Unlike their father, she remembered that Misato was collecting Mitsuru's homework. He was in Mitsuru's class after all. Now if only she would get over that silly crush of hers... he snorted softly. He had thought, for the longest time, that Misako and Misato would make a good couple. Misato liked her, ~really~ liked her, but she couldn't see it for the futile crush she clung to. He, Mitsuru, Misako and Misato all got along quite well with each other. Misato would make the perfect brother-in-law... Hmm... Maybe I can get Mitsuru to help set them up together. Kami knows that Misato isn't going to do anything about it. He knows about that stupid crush of hers, and I am sure he is afraid that he will upset Mitsuru if he asks if he could date his baby sister. Short red hair flew as Kazuya shook his head in exasperation. Sometimes monk-boy is just to darn nice for his own good.

He glanced down at the tray as he stepped onto the second floor, he didn't want to spill anything. Personally he thought The Parents were going a bit overboard about this 'poor, darling Mitsuru' thing. He had never been as weak or delicate as they thought he was. And he was sure that Mitsuru would have been capable, with a bit of help, to come down for breakfast instead of having a tray brought up to him. When he reached the end of the hall, he noticed that the door was ajar several inches. "Mitsuru..." Kazuya saw that the door to Mitsuru's room was opened a crack, and gave a sigh of relief. He nudged the door with his foot, and it silently swung open. "...I have tea and sandwiches... what are you doing out of bed?" Mitsuru was sitting on the floor in front of the window, the window seat open, and he had books and photos scattered all around him. He was still dressed in his pajamas, but, Kazuya frowned, he had neglected to put on his slippers or a robe. He looked up, and Kazuya had never seen such a look on his brother's face before, a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and a healthy dose of fear and worry.

"Kazuya..." Mitsuru said, looking up from his exploration of his past.

The younger red haired teen stared blankly at him for a moment, then calmly walked over and sat the tray he was holding on an empty space on the desk. Then he walked over and crouched on the floor across from him, on the other side of the books. "Mitsuru," he asked levelly, "what's wrong?"

Kazuya watched as the expressions shifted and danced across his brother's face, surprise, suspicion; then good cheer. His eyes narrowed. Ever since Mitsuru had woken from his coma, he had been acting strange. No one would listen to him when he tried to talk to them about it, and cousin Hiro had just laughed at his concerns, saying that it was only in his imagination, despite his own concerns from when Mitsuru had first woken up. But Mitsuru would never look at someone the way he had looked at him a moment ago. Not like he was a stranger - his brother had amnesia: that he could understand - but there had been recognition in his eyes, Mitsuru knew him, and he didn't understand why he was lying.

* * * * *

The first journal started back when he was eight years old, it had been a gift from his grandfather. That was the same. That he knew and remembered. But as Mitsuru read through the journal; that had been one of the few similarities. The handwriting was his, but the style was not, more passive than he remembered his old journals being. And it mentioned things that were both the same and different. The journal talked about Kazuya and Misako, his younger twin siblings, and how he had gotten along with Kazuya, but how Misako annoyed the daylights out of him. How on the trip to the zoo during summer break, he and Sho had watched as some kids tried to break out the pandas. He remembered how he and Sho had come up with plans for doing just that, but never acted on it. The journal spoke of how Sho, his best friend and not his brother as he remembered, had gotten into trouble at the temple, and how Sho's mother had just smiled at them and said that boys would be boys.

After going through one year's worth of journals, Mitsuru had set the rest aside and had started going through photo albums. There were pictures of his parents (who he had no memory of at all), himself, Kazuya and Misako, and of Sho. There were also pictures of Shun (who really was a girl and called Shunii) along with Reina (still a boy), Miya and Tenma, and of others he remembered from Greenwood. But he hadn't known them growing up, had only met them at the dorm. He certainly hadn't grown up with any of them. There were family pictures with Kazuhiro in them, and it looked as if he really was ~family~, which was not worth thinking about.

He had just looked at the second year of journals and was reaching for the third when Kazuya entered with lunch, surprising him as he had been so absorbed in the journals that he hadn't heard his approach or entry into the room. For a brief moment, his guard on his emotions slid in his surprise, showing what he was truly feeling for a second.

"Kazuya," he murmured, acknowledging his presence in an attempt to cover his lapse. With watchful eyes he watched as ~his~ younger brother placed the tray he was carrying on the desk and turn to him, silently walking over to him, his pale blue slippers barely whispering across the wooden floor. He knelt in front of Mitsuru, giving him a worried look.

"Mitsuru, what's wrong?"

He couldn't help it. The honest tone of concern in Kazuya's voice, so different than he was use to -without a trace of suspicion- caught him off guard. He was honestly surprised, and a touch suspicious of the question; then he realized just how stupid he was being. This was ~Kazuya~. And then the familiar look of suspicion in Kazuya's face in reaction confirmed what he had just realized, he had just fluffed up.

But quite unlike the Kazuya he knew, this Kazuya gave him a narrow-eyed look, then quite deliberately sat down on the floor across from him. "You do remember me, don't you?" he stated calmly. "All of this about you having amnesia and not remembering anything from when you woke up in the hospital... why are you lying to us?

Mitsuru repressed the urge to arch a brow in surprise. This Kazuya was much calmer than he had first realized. No, he quickly decided a moment later as he saw the hot look in Kazuya's eyes and the tight grip of Kazuya's hand on his knee; the red-head was just more controlled than he was use to, not calmer. He probably still had that killer right hook too, he speculated.

"Mitsu.." came the soft growl from the red-head. "I am waiting"

Mitsuru struggled to suppress a smile. He was glad that he could still rile the redhead. This was the Kazuya he had been striving for in the dorm. Confident, self-assured stubborn. Kazuya growled Mitsuru's name again and Mitsuru couldn't help but smile.

"MITSURU!" Kazuya yelled finally, slamming his palm hard against the floor. "TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!"

"Maa maa," Mitsuru mocked lightly. "Keep that up and you'll end up with fever." And as predicted, a red flush crept up Kazuya's cheeks. What Kazuya said next, however, was not anticipated.

"Mitsuru," Kazuya took a deep, calming breath, "please stop trying to change the subject and tell me what is going on. Baiting me is not going to stop me. You do remember me; I can see it in your eyes. And I was told about the conversation between you and Hiro. Why are you lying about it? And you are acting strange. It is not surprising that the others haven't noticed it, when you consider whom we are talking about, but you are acting so suspicious of everyone. Even me. What is going on? What happened to you?"

Mitsuru blinked, then gave Kazuya a speculative look. He glanced down at the journals, the scattered photos, then back at the young man across from him. Kazuya was being more observant than he would have given him credit for. Ever since he had came to the realization that no one was playing a joke on him, that what he had awoken to was real, he knew that sometime someone would realize that he was not the person they thought he was. He picked up a photo, a family picture of him, Kazuya, Misako and their parents - and he knew, knew like he had known before when something was ~wrong~, that this was real. That what everyone had been telling him for the past week was true. Everything was real. But, somehow, so were his memories.

"Do you really want to hear it, Kazuya?" Mitsuru asked softly, laying down the photo and looking up at the young man across from him. He had to talk to someone, just so he would know that he wasn't going crazy. And Kazuya was someone he knew and trusted. He was someone that you could rely on when you needed someone. And anyway, he thought wryly, if his memories were in any way correct, Kazuya would bug him to death until he talked about it, so he might as well get it over with.

(to be continued...)