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Kei can hear her blood pumping, it was a loud drum setting the pace of her run towards the middle of the plaza. It felt unknown, this reality where her sacrifices are rewarded handsomely. Call her a bandit how she runs with the hearts she stole live for only her selfish dreams and ambition.
That one group may feel their aspirations were holy, but she knows the moment she understood herself, the greed consumed her.
Oh, she felt greedy. Kei felt right with her mind no longer torn apart by grief, her voice no longer milked for all its worth, her body feeling the chains release from years of deep rooted agony. This freedom, even for one second, felt beautiful.
The piano keys grew louder and echoed in her head, syncing with her heart as one. She recognized this sheet from long ago. He recognizes this sheet from the past. No more the silly idol tunes she plays on a stage, she can get back to her true symphony. One filled with laughter and tears and the softness of her dear brother’s skin—lord, please don’t take this feeling away, it's fantastic.
The surrealism blinded her.
Her legs stopped by the city’s intersection.
Her eyes met two white coats adorning humans. It’s unfamiliar who the black haired boy was, but that mop of fluffy pink colored hair couldn’t be anyone different, his playing couldn’t be another. Her voice cracks to call out his name.
He turns, but with none of the joy and relief she shows on her face. The other male beside him looks at Kei as well. Looks of confusion (one was unclear) shared on their faces, as if she was a regular stranger in front of them, amazed by their play. Minori looks so helpless in the monotonous white button up shirt and was he barefoot too? Who allowed her poor brother to be in such conditions?
Kei calls out again. No lights in his eyes beyond the shine from street lamps.
Who is Minori? Kei never had to ponder such a thought as the boy who is supposed to BE ‘Minori questions.
That is her little brother, the one she spent her childhood taking care of and accustoming him into his child years. The one that got away almost a decade ago. Her beloved family.
Minori Miyama is his name, is it not him?
No. For who is Minori Miyama if she is not his older brother, Kei Miyama?
But, Kei is Kei Miyama! The one with the special gift from god to lead his choir through her music, the one who cried and sang to anyone who listened with matches written with her woes to warm her, the warmth was shaped like her brother. Who is Kei if not the one who sacrificed her mind, body, and soul to find the one meaning in her pitiful life?
Simple, Kei Miyama is a man. An orphan boy. An ex-idol to the former sensation Visty. A wonder to many of her fans across the globe along with her own co-workers.
Kei Miyama is a sacrifice, just like Minori was. Except, it was of her own volition.
Does a sacrifice always feel this good? This sickening, this heart-stopping on her feet—she feels light-headed.
Who is Kei Miyama?
Who is Minori Miyama?
Who the fuck is ‘Brother Itsuki’? Suppose that is the noir who response to the fear hidden by ‘Rokuta’s pippy voice. This stranger, a complete unknown, is supposed to be the replacement of her, the older brother. His face never changing from the frown and sharp golden eyes as if he was stalking a predator, like Kei would dare to hurt them in public. This random woman who assumed HIS brother was hers.
Kei wanted to break down, grab at her heart, shake this ‘Rokuta’ by his shoulders and force him awake back to reality. Minori should still be in there, shouldn’t he? Please, oh great heavenly lord, let this not be another sacrifice, her heart can’t handle anymore. Hasn’t she given enough to be regarded as one of his angels?
Her blood pumps to her head and suddenly, she’s aware of all the deep vibrations of the city noise and the faintness catches up with her. The last she can hear is the footsteps of passerbys and those two rushing towards her body.
The body of an alien laid on the concrete. The mangled corpse of Kei Miyama silently cries through the darkness. A guest to Kei Miyama’s body left struggling to speak.
Who is Kei Miyama anymore?
Another sacrifice, just like Minori.