At first, he thinks he is staring at himself. The figure looks so much like him, even gives the same unsure smile, has the messy brown hair drawn before pale face, has the same gold eyes that sparkles with uncertainty and unbidden happiness. But he feels the difference. He notes the darker skin, although it will not be noticed immediately, he knows. The stance is frightened; the expression sorrowful. No, not him. He is not the apparition.

"Who are you?" he asks softly.

The other boy blinks, smiling sadly. "Hello, how are you?" he whispers instead.

There is a blackness surrounding them. It seems they are standing on dark crystal; their reflections dimly mirroring their figures. But they pay these reflections no heed.

"Who are you?" Kaika asks again. "Are you me?"

The other smiles, then laughs. "No," he says. Perfect white set of teeth flashes. He seems amused, happy. "No. You're not me. But I'm you."

Kaika takes a step back, a little confused. "I..." An image in his mind, floating, cornering...He shakes his head. "What do you mean?"

The other boy takes a step forward, arms outstretched. "Oh, gods," he whispers brokenly "Gods, how I missed you aniki."

"Aniki?!" Kaika steps back as well. "No! I have no brother!"

And the other stops, tears falling on his cheeks. His arms drop to his sides, palms clenched to fists. "Yes!" he cries out forcefully. "I forgot! I was just to observe you, dream of you! To talk to you is forbidden, to reveal the truth a curse, and to touch you is banishment!" He wipes the tears away in one defiant gesture, bows, and looks up, smiling. He is the same boy again. "Dear self. Are you happy, Amiboshi?"

Amiboshi. It is not his name but he likes it. It seems strong. Like a child of power. He thinks he's heard it before but he pushes the thought away, pressing eagerly to answer: "Well, yes, I'm happy. What about you?"

The boy's smile widens. "I'm happy if you're happy, aniki."

There it is again. Brother. But it sounds so right that he does not chastise the boy for using the term once more.

The other continues: "I had a chance at happiness once. But it was a long time ago. Not long for many, but for us. Time of war, confusion, and anger. A time past. Everything is past." His voice softens and he looks down. "Even I."

"Was I a part of that past?"

The boy looks up and, with his right hand, touches his left breast where his heart rests. "You were a part of me. We were a part of each other."

"Now?" He remembers the statement: You're not me. But I am you. "What about now?"

Apparently, the other knows what he is thinking because he replies, "Then, we could not be apart. But now, you fare without me. You are free, Amiboshi, Kaika. But me...I am never free of you." With that, he steps back as if he has spoken too much of what he is allowed.

But, intrigued, Kaika presses on: "But sometimes, I feel this emptiness. I feel as if something's missing...someone's missing. Is it you?"

"I hope to the gods not."

"Why not?" Confusion again. Darkness ripples. It obeys them.

"Because I am not worthy of your love," the other replies bitterly. "I played with your trust. You! The person I loved more than anyone else in the world! I failed to protect you when I should have. I should pay the price. You should not remember me."

And the boy's mind opens, baring his shielded sorrow. Perhaps he does not mean it. Perhaps he does not know what he is doing. The darkness shifts again to be replaced by images, memories. They are two silhouetted figures watching in fascination: childhood, friendships, pains, camaraderie, death...love. Image after image, picture after picture. First words, first steps, first death, first pain, first touch. First time they made love.

"I was your brother," Suboshi whispers, not bearing, weeping with his face away from Amiboshi's. "I was your twin."

"My twin," Amiboshi whispers in reply, at awe with the familiar story unfolding before his blank mind. A sacred book. "Brother...and much, much more."

It holds until the very end, until Amiboshi sees his beloved brother's death, feels the sharp pain all over again despite not having witnessed it. He sees their final farewell. At that, the images begin to fade; memories begin to fall apart. Darkness is resuming. He turns.

Suboshi is gone.

"Suboshi?!" he calls out, growing frightened. "Suboshi? Aniki? Aniki!" And it is his turn to weep, tears falling, melting, disappearing to the ground that has again melted to the darkness and his reflection. He feels the hate of his own cursed looks. Feels the hate for the face that is so much like his brother's that it makes him yearn for more. "ANIKI!" he screams.

Then, as soft as the breeze, cool arms slide from behind to clasp over his shoulders. He freezes, feeling a soft brush of hair on his ear, a feather-like kiss on his neck. He leans on the body and sags gratefully.

"I love you, aniki," Amiboshi breathes, closing his eyes and catching the faint scent that only his brother has.

Suboshi weeps with him. "I said too much. I only wished to see you one last time before Seiryuu reclaims my soul. But I had to speak to you. I had to touch you! I would die again and again if I didn't." He kisses Amiboshi's cheek, licking away the tears that run on his face. "What punishment for me! All the hurt we go through...and you will forget all over again." He moves forward and, cupping his brother's face, kisses his lips gently, sorrowfully, sadly.

Then, he moves away, but their foreheads still touch. Bowed. Suboshi's eyes close. "I love you, Amiboshi, aniki, my twin brother. And that is precisely the reason why you must forget."

He starts to fade.

Amiboshi locks his arm around his brother's waist. But Suboshi is disappearing too fast. He closes his eyes, not wishing to see the person he loves the most vanish before his eyes. Yet he cannot help trying one last plea: "Please, don't go..."

*

Kaika wakes up, feeling disoriented, feeling empty. He searches his brain, finds no answer, and gives up. Outside, the sun is starting to rise. He watches it quietly from his window, wondering why he has the strongest urge to curl on his bed and cry.