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New Eridu was always alive, chaotic yet full of secrets. Beneath its vibrant facade, the cracks in reality ran deeper than most people realized. Wise knew this better than anyone. With his silver-gray hair and green eyes, he exuded an air of calm wisdom, often wearing a jacket that hung loosely over his frame. In this world, where danger lurked around every corner, he was a Proxy —a guide to those who had wandered too far into the Hollows, an ever-expanding chasm where the rules of reality no longer applied.
His sister, Belle, was his constant companion. Together, they ran a small video store called Random Play in the Sixth Street, a cover for their true roles as Phaethon, known as the Legendary Proxy.
Wise and his sister often clearly separate work and their personal life on a daily basis, accepting assignments as Phaethon on Inter-Knot and carrying them out smoothly.
But it was Asaba Harumasa who often blurred the lines of work and personal matters for Wise.
Asaba, with his playful grin and the yellow headband that always sat proudly on his head, was a mystery wrapped in paradox. He was an elite commander in Section 6, one of the most respected units assigned to handle breaches, anomalies and creatures from the Hollows. With a sharp mind and exceptional combat prowess—whether in archery or close combat—he was the perfect example of an individual who is called a 'genius'.
And yet, the same man who could handle an entire Ethereal squad with ease struggled with his own mortality. Asaba was dying. His body was slowly succumbing to Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome, a cruel disease that would, in time, turn him into one of the very things he fought against. The thought of dying before his time was something he'd accepted long ago, but it never seemed to lessen the pain of watching his own body betray him.
Wise had met that man a few times in Hollows—during missions, brief exchanges of words, glances that hinted at a deeper connection. He admired Asaba's wit, his boldness, but also the underlying sadness that seemed to seep through his playful demeanor. What began as an awkward acquaintance soon grew into something more—a subtle tension between them. They began spending time together outside of work: dinners, talks under the dim lights of the Sixth Street, and even moments when they found solace in silence.
Asaba never seemed to hold back his teasing nature. He would joke about Wise's tendency to stay up late, remarking on the dark circles under his eyes with a grin. "You know, Wise, if you spent half the time sleeping as you do brooding, you might not look like you've seen ten ghosts." He'd say with a wink.
Wise, however, didn't mind. He'd chuckle softly, but his thoughts were elsewhere, wondering about the mysteries hidden behind Asaba's lightheartedness. There was something in his golden eyes that seemed too sharp, too aware of everything—the weight of his own illness and the fleeting nature of his existence.
---
The air inside Random Play was warm, the silence outside blending with the faint sound of music playing from the video store's stereo. Wise sat on the sofa, his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. Beside him, Asaba stretched lazily, his bow resting against the wall nearby.
They'd been talking about the latest developments in the Hollows, but the conversation had drifted into quieter territory, the pauses stretching longer as the minutes ticked by. Asaba glanced over at Wise, his golden eyes sharp yet contemplative.
"Wise." He began, his voice softer than usual. "If one day, I suddenly turn into Ethereal, don't hesitate to kill me."
The words were delivered so casually, like he was asking about the weather. Wise froze, the steam from his tea curling upward as his grip tightened around the cup. His silver-gray hair fell slightly into his eyes as he looked up at Asaba, his green pupils reflecting something unspoken.
"Why would you say that?" Wise asked, his voice calm but carrying a subtle edge.
Asaba shrugged, leaning back in the sofa. "It's just something I've been thinking about. I don't want to wander the Hollows as a monster, hurting people, maybe even you or your sister."
His eyes suddenly settled as if recalling a certain scene, of an Ethereal left with only the thought of protecting the suitcase.
"Better for everyone if it's handled quickly, cleanly."
Wise didn't respond immediately. He set his cup down, the faint clink of ceramic against the table filling the silence. His gaze dropped to his hands, and for a moment, his usually composed expression wavered.
"I don't think I can do that." He said quietly, almost to himself.
Asaba tilted his head, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Of course you can. You're Phaethon, who's sharp, steady, and always do what needs to be done. It's one of the things I—" He stopped himself, clearing his throat. "Anyway, you're the perfect person for the job."
Wise looked up at him, his green eyes searching Asaba's face for something—anything—that might betray what he was really feeling. But all he saw was the same playful, distant mask Asaba always wore when things got too serious.
"It's not that simple." Wise said after a moment, his voice firmer now. "Even if you think it's the right thing to do, I—" He hesitated, unsure how to put the storm of emotions inside him into words.
Asaba's smirk widened into a grin, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What's this? Wise, the overthinker, lost for words? Don't worry about it too much. It's just a backup plan. Not like I'm turning Ethereal tomorrow." He gave a small laugh and leaned forward, poking at the remains of a half-eaten snack on the table.
"Besides, I'd haunt you if you got all sentimental about it."
"Asaba..." Wise's voice was softer now, but Asaba was already moving on, changing the subject with practiced ease.
"By the way, li'l Soukaku told me she's been learning to draw picture books." Asaba said, his tone light and conversational. "Think she'll finally make something interesting?"
Wise opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He knew what Asaba was doing—deflecting, redirecting, but he let it go. If Asaba wanted to pretend everything was fine, Wise would let him have that for now.
Still, as the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the weight of Asaba's earlier words lingered. Wise couldn't shake the hollow ache they left behind, nor the quiet sadness in Asaba's eyes that the other man tried so hard to hide.
In the end, they still didn't mention it. Asaba simply stood up, picked up his bow, complained that it was time for him to go to the agency to take on another mission, then left the video store.
It was in those moments that Wise could feel something heavier in the air, a tension that clung to the edges of every word. The distance between them had become more pronounced, like Asaba was slowly pushing him away.
Wise, perceptive as always, picked up on the signals. He understood the hesitation in Asaba's eyes, the way he evaded deeper conversations. The quiet avoidance—the way Asaba would change the subject when Wise's questions grew too pointed, too intimate—was palpable.
He knew. He knew that Asaba was afraid to start something they both wanted, something that could have bloomed into something beautiful in another life, in another time. Asaba didn't want to drag anyone else into his inevitable fate. He believed it was better to remain distant, to keep his feelings hidden, than to let them grow and become another source of pain for Wise when he inevitably turned into Ethereal.
But Wise wasn't blind. He had seen the small gestures—the way Asaba's smile lingered just a little longer when their hands brushed, the way his eyes softened when their gazes met. Wise had his own feelings too. He had felt the pull, the warmth that Asaba unconsciously offered, and he had fallen for it. But there was a bitter knot in his chest as he realized that Asaba was withdrawing, shutting down any chance for them to be more than just Proxy and Agent.
---
One evening, after another quiet, almost painful conversation where Asaba skillfully dodged the subject of his health, Wise finally had enough.
"Asaba..." His voice was calm, but there was a rawness to it, a desperation that he couldn't quite hide.
Asaba paused, his golden eyes searching Wise's face with that typical, playful expression. "What's up, Wise? You look like you're about to lecture me again."
Wise took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I know what you're doing. You're hiding from me."
Asaba's eyes flickered, his grin faltering for just a moment. "...I'm not hiding anything, Wise."
"You don't have to do this alone." Wise said, stepping closer. "I want to be there for you, Asaba. I want to be the one to—"
Asaba stepped back, shaking his head, his playful mask sliding back into place. He knew what Wise was referring to.
"Don't, Wise. You don't know what it's like. I'm not asking for anyone's pity or for someone to hold my hand through this. You're too good for that."
Wise stood still, the words stinging more than he had expected. He could feel his chest tighten, the frustration building inside him. "You think I'm too good for you?"
Asaba's eyes softened, his usual teasing smile now absent. "No, I just think you deserve more than to watch... your friend fall apart."
The silence that followed was heavy. Wise felt the sting of Asaba's words, but there was also a tenderness behind them, a vulnerability that Asaba only ever showed when he thought no one was watching.
"I can't stop you from doing this alone." Wise said, his voice low. "But don't push me away. I can handle it."
Asaba hesitated for a moment before offering a weak smile. "You're not as sharp as you think you are, Wise."
And with that, he walked away, leaving Wise standing there, uncertain, his heart torn between wanting to fight for Asaba and respecting his wishes.
It was a painful, bittersweet reality: they both wanted something more, something they couldn't have. Asaba's fears, his illness, his self-imposed distance, kept them at arm's length. And yet, in the quiet moments when they shared a fleeting touch or exchanged a glance, there was no denying that they had become something more than just comrades in the Hollows.
But for now, that was all they could be.
---
The evening air was crisp outside Random Play. Wise sat at the counter, staring at the screen of his phone. The last message from Asaba was hours old, a simple 'Busy, talk later.' It was the same message he'd received countless times over the past few weeks. The once vibrant banter and stolen moments of shared understanding had faded into hollow, clipped exchanges.
Belle entered the video store, her arms full of snacks and her face alight with her usual cheer. But as she set the bags on the counter and glanced at her brother, her smile faltered. Wise's calm demeanor was tinged with a sadness she couldn't ignore.
"Alright, spill it." Belle said, pulling up a chair beside him.
Wise blinked at her, caught off guard. "Spill what?"
"Don't play dumb, Wise. You've been moping around for weeks. And don't say it's about work, I know it's not. Is it about Asaba?"
At the mention of his name, Wise looked away, his shoulders tightening. Belle pressed on, her voice gentler now.
"You think I haven't noticed? He used to come here all the time, and now it's like he's vanished. Did something happen between you two?"
Wise exhaled slowly, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his jacket. "He... He said something a while back. That when he... turns into Ethereal, I shouldn't hesitate to kill him. He's afraid of what he'll become. And now he's avoiding me because he thinks it's better that way. Better for me."
Belle's heart ached at the quiet despair in her brother's voice. "...And you believe that?" she asked softly.
"I don't know what to believe." Wise admitted, his voice trembling just slightly. "I thought there was something real between us, but now... he's shut me out completely. Maybe he's right. Maybe it's better this way."
Belle reached out and grabbed his hand. "No, it's not better. For either of you. He's scared, Wise. But you're scared too. And you're both hurting because of it."
Wise said nothing, his green eyes focused on the floor. Belle squeezed his hand and offered a small smile. "Leave it to me. I'll figure something out."
That night, Belle texted Yanagi with a vague but urgent plea:
[Hey, I think something's wrong w Asaba and my brother. Can you check on Asaba?]
The reply came quickly.
[Noted. I'll handle it.]
Yanagi set her phone down and adjusted her glasses, her sharp mind already piecing together what Belle might be referring to. She'd noticed the change in Asaba's behavior too—his usual quips lacked their usual energy, and he'd been quieter during missions. She decided it was time to confront him.
---
It was late afternoon when Section 6 set off to Lumina Square. The sprawling space was a rare refuge, offering a peaceful respite from the chaos of their daily missions. The golden light of the setting sun bathed the park in a gentle glow, and a cool breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers. Soukaku, with her usual exuberance, was already eyeing a vendor selling ice cream, while Miyabi, the section leader, followed with her usual calm grace.
"Let's go get some!" Soukaku said, dragging Miyabi by the arm toward the stand, her long tail bobbing slightly with each step.
Yanagi, always perceptive, was watching Asaba carefully. She'd noticed his increasing distraction during their last few missions. His usually sharp focus seemed to flicker, his movements a tad slower, his aim less sure. He was still an excellent fighter, but something was off. It was subtle, but Yanagi wasn't one to miss the signs. It wasn't just fatigue, combined with Belle's request, Asaba seemed to be wrestling with something, a quiet internal conflict that was becoming harder to ignore.
The group settled down on the park's benches, the mood light and carefree. Soukaku was already laughing as she devoured her ice cream, Miyabi occasionally glancing over the city with a thoughtful look on her face. Yanagi, however, was observing Asaba more closely. He was sitting a little apart from the rest of the team, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a pensive expression. The smile that usually tugged at the corner of his lips was absent, replaced by a furrowed brow.
She felt it was the right moment. Without warning, she stood up, excused herself from the group, and walked over to where Asaba sat.
"Hey, Asaba." Yanagi said softly, her voice a mix of concern and sympathetic. "You've been a little off lately. You okay?"
Asaba, who had been gazing at the distant skyline, blinked and looked up at her, a quick flash of surprise crossing his face before it faded into a neutral expression.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He said, brushing it off with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just thinking about a few things. No big deal."
Yanagi raised an eyebrow. She wasn't buying it. She'd seen the same behavior countless times before in her teammates—when someone was pretending that everything was fine when, in truth, it wasn't. Asaba was skilled at hiding things, but she wasn't easily fooled.
"It's not just 'a few things,' Asaba." She said, her tone gentle but firm. "You've been distracted during missions. You're usually sharp, but lately, it's like something's pulling your focus away."
Asaba's golden eyes flickered briefly toward her, then away. His smile wavered, and for a moment, Yanagi could see the faintest trace of something deeper in his gaze, something that spoke of frustration, fear, and perhaps even regret.
"I said I'm fine, Yanagi." He repeated, this time more firmly, but his voice didn't have the usual playful edge.
Yanagi sighed, sitting down beside him. "Asaba, I've known you long enough to know when something's wrong. And I can see it's not just physical fatigue this time." She paused, watching him carefully. "Is this about the missions, or something else?"
There was a long silence. Asaba's fingers drummed against the bench, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. His usual quick wit was absent, he seemed lost in thought. It was then that Yanagi realized just how deeply whatever was bothering him had rooted itself in his mind. She gently nudged him, leaning in just enough to show she was there, offering him a safe space without pushing too hard.
Asaba exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's complicated."
Yanagi waited, her quiet persistence giving him the time he needed to find the words. She didn't rush him; she simply sat there, patient, offering him a silent understanding.
Finally, Asaba spoke again, his voice low and strained. "I've been thinking a lot about... some things. About Section 6. About my future." His hands fidgeted in his lap. "You all— Chief Miyabi, li'l Soukaku, you..." He took a breath. "I don't want to burden you with it. I don't want to drag anyone down with me."
Yanagi was silent, waiting for him to continue.
Asaba's golden eyes flickered toward her for a moment before he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have this condition. You know that, right?" His gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers curling into fists. "There're no cure for that, at least not yet."
Yanagi nodded, her expression softening. She'd known about his illness, of course after that event, but hearing him say it out loud, hearing the resignation in his voice, made it feel even more real.
"I know it's hard to talk about. But there's... there's someone I care about." His voice faltered for just a second, before he took a steadying breath. "Someone who's making my heart a mess. And I—I don't know what to do about it."
Yanagi's eyes sharpened slightly. She could already guess who he was talking about, but she waited for him to confirm it.
"The Phaethon." Asaba admitted, his tone laced with a vulnerability he usually kept hidden. "Wise, it's him. I don't know when it happened, but I care about him. A lot. And I'm terrified of what will happen when... I turn into Ethereal." His eyes tightened. "I don't want him to suffer because of me. So I've been pushing him away, pretending everything's fine. I thought that if our relationship didn't develop into something deeper, it would save him from the hesitation of eliminating me. But..." He trailed off, his frustration bubbling over. "It's making things worse. It's hurting him. And I don't know how to fix it."
Every cold, curt message Asaba sent left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't stop picturing Wise's expression on the other end—disappointed, maybe even hurt. The thought twisted his stomach into knots. Each time Wise reached out, calling or texting, trying to bridge the growing distance between them, Asaba felt the weight of his own silence pressing down on him like a heavy fog. Guilt gnawed at him relentlessly, each unanswered message a wound he couldn't bring himself to heal. Yet, no matter how much it hurt, he convinced himself it was for the best, even as the pain in his chest said otherwise.
Yanagi listened quietly, absorbing his words with a thoughtful expression. She hadn't expected this confession, but now that she heard it, she understood. Asaba was afraid— afraid of burdening Wise with his impending death, afraid that if he allowed himself to love, it would make him weak. He feared that his inevitable transformation into Ethereal would break something precious, and that fear made him retreat.
Finally, Yanagi spoke, her voice steady but kind. "Asaba, you've been hiding from this for so long, thinking that if you shut people out, you're protecting them. But you're not. You're hurting Wise, and you're hurting yourself. Have you ever considered talking to him about this?"
Asaba stiffened, his gaze darkening with conflict. "I don't want him to see me like that. To watch me fall apart when he had that feelings for me. I'd rather..." His voice trailed off.
"You're not a burden to anyone, Asaba." Yanagi interrupted gently. "And especially not to Wise. You've never even given him the chance to decide. Have you asked him how he feels? Have you told him what you're afraid of?"
Asaba's eyes flitted away, a mix of guilt and uncertainty swirling within them.
Yanagi smiled softly. "Effort is never redundant, Asaba. Even if you fail, at least you won't regret not trying. You don't have to do this alone. And neither does Wise."
There was a long pause. Asaba looked out at the park, his gaze distant, but something in his posture shifted. The weight of his silence began to lift, even if only slightly.
"Guess you're right." He said quietly. "I've been so focused on what I could lose that I never thought about what I could gain. I don't know if it's too late, but... I'm going to try. I have to."
Yanagi nodded, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Good. Just remember—you're never alone in this. Not with us."
Asaba's expression softened, a quiet sense of resolve starting to settle in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, this was the first step toward freeing himself from the weight he had been carrying alone for so long.
And, for the first time in a long while, Asaba allowed himself to hope.
---
The night was quiet, the Sixth Street alive with its usual hum, but it felt strangely still in Random Play. The dim light of the streetlamps filtered through the window, casting soft shadows across the room. Wise was sitting at his desk on the first floor, poring over some notes for their next importing DVDs, but his mind wandered—like it often did—back to the unspoken words and quiet tension that had been hanging between him and Asaba.
It had been a long time coming, the moment he'd been dreading but also yearning for. The uncertainty that had crept into Asaba's eyes was still there, but something had changed over the last few weeks. The same hesitation that had once made Asaba distant now seemed to be shifting, as if the weight on his shoulders had grown too heavy to carry alone.
Wise felt the weight of Asaba's absence in every corner of his life. The once frequent visits to Random Play had dwindled to nothing, leaving the shop feeling emptier than usual. Every unanswered call, every curt message, felt like a door slammed in his face, and the silence that followed was deafening. He found himself staring at his phone late into the night, rereading old conversations and wondering where things had gone wrong. Asaba's avoidance wasn't subtle—it was deliberate, and Wise knew it, but understanding the reason didn't make it hurt any less. The growing distance left him restless and hollow, caught between longing for the connection they once had and the sinking feeling that it might already be lost.
The sound of a soft knock on the door pulled Wise from his thoughts. He glanced up, unsure of who it might be at this hour, but as he walked toward the door, a familiar feeling of both anticipation and anxiety washed over him. This particular knock usually belongs to just one person, that man.
When he opened it, Asaba stood there, his usual playful grin absent. His black hair was messy, the yellow headband on his forehead was slightly disheveled. His breathing was short and somewhat labored, as if he had run here from a place far away from here. His golden eyes, once full of teasing confidence, were now darker, more uncertain. There was no bravado in his stance—just a quiet sincerity that instantly told Wise this wasn't just another casual visit.
"Asaba..." Wise started, his voice a little quieter than usual, sensing the shift in agent's demeanor.
Asaba hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a voice that trembled just slightly, betraying the vulnerability he had long kept hidden. "I need to talk to you."
Wise nodded, stepping aside to let him in. He didn't ask what this was about. He had a sinking feeling he already knew.
As Asaba sat down, his gaze fell to his hands, twisting nervously in his lap. The silence between them stretched on for several moments, and Wise, ever perceptive, waited. He didn't rush. He never did.
Finally, Asaba spoke, his voice small but steady. "I've been running from this. Running from... us. From how I feel about you. About everything."
He took a deep breath. "You've probably already noticed, right? How I've been distant, how I've pushed you away. It wasn't because of anything you did, or the last conservation we had. It was because of me. Because of what's happening to me."
Wise's heart tightened at the raw honesty in Asaba's voice. He had known, in his quiet way, that something had been festering beneath the surface. He hadn't wanted to press Asaba, he never would. But hearing it now, out in the open, felt like the world itself was shifting.
"I've been afraid." Asaba continued, his gaze rising to meet Wise's. "Afraid that if I let myself feel this way—if I let myself admit that I love you—I'd become weak. I didn't want you to see me like this. I didn't want to burden you with the knowledge that I'm dying. That eventually, I'll become one of them. An Ethereal. And then what? What happens to you then? How you'll feel after having to take out that one you care about with your own hands?"
He shook his head. "I didn't want to hurt you like that. So I shut myself off from you, thinking it was better that way. That my distance will makes you stop wasting your precious feelings on someone like me."
When the word 'love' left Asaba's lips, Wise felt like something has been liberated. He had suspected it, felt it in the quiet moments they shared, but hearing it spoken aloud still sent a wave of warmth through him. To know that the person he secretly loved felt the same—it was overwhelming, a happiness that made his chest ache. And when Asaba mentioned that he had always known about Wise's feelings, it didn't come as a shock. They both had sensed that unspoken connection, an invisible bond that had always lingered between them, impossible to ignore yet never fully acknowledged, until now.
Wise was silent, watching him, his expression unreadable. But in his heart, something stirred. He understood. It wasn't just fear of his own death—it was fear of losing someone important. It was the fear of leaving behind someone who mattered, someone who would suffer because of him.
"I get it." Wise said softly. "I get why you did it. But Asaba..." His voice softened, the weight of his words hanging between them. "Hiding from me won't protect me. It only leaves us both empty."
Asaba's shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes briefly. "I'm so sorry. I've been selfish. I've been thinking only about myself, and I've hurt you in the process. I never wanted that."
"You didn't hurt me, Asaba." Wise said, his voice steady but filled with an undeniable warmth. "I've been hurting, yes. But it wasn't because of you—at least not in the way you think. It's because you've been pushing me away when all I wanted to do was be by your side. It's because you've been carrying all this alone, and I've been standing here, waiting for you to realize you don't have to."
Asaba's eyes met his, the conflict and doubt still swirling in his gaze. "But what if it's not enough? What if I'm too broken? What if it's not fair to you? I can't promise I'll be here forever, Wise. I can't promise anything."
Wise stood and moved to sit next to Asaba, placing a hand to cover his cold hand. The touch was gentle but firm.
"Life doesn't come with guarantees. None of us know what's going to happen tomorrow. But I can promise this: I'll be here. With you. No matter what. Because you matter to me. And that's enough for me."
For a long moment, Asaba sat in silence, letting the words settle in. Then, with a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the weight of everything he had been carrying. Slowly, a small, fragile smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Wise... I don't deserve you." He murmured.
"Maybe not." Wise replied with a quiet chuckle. "But I'm here anyway."
Asaba chuckled softly, shaking his head. He felt something inside him unravel—the tight knot of fear and regret that had held him in place for so long. There was no easy solution. He couldn't turn back time. He couldn't erase what was coming. But in that moment, he realized something important—he didn't have to do this alone anymore. He didn't have to hide.
"I'm sorry." He whispered again, more to himself than to Wise. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"You didn't." Wise said. "You're not a burden. You never were."
They sat together for a while, the tension between them dissipating. The weight that had once threatened to tear them apart began to lift, replaced by something new—something fragile, but real. Hope. And, in time, love. Asaba didn't know what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn't afraid to face it. He had Wise by his side. That was enough.
---
The days that followed were filled with quiet moments of healing. They spoke more openly, their conversations no longer shrouded in fear or hesitation. Asaba didn't try to pretend he wasn't sick. He didn't try to hide from the inevitable. Instead, they both made the choice to live fully, to live now, without waiting for a distant future that might never come.
Together, they embraced the moments that were theirs to share. Whether it was a quiet evening in the video store, a stroll through the Lumina Square, an afternoon enjoying the cool breeze at Elpis Port Lighthouse, or the occasional mission where they fought side by side, trusting one another completely. They didn't have the answers, but they had each other. And for them, that was enough.
Asaba didn't know how much time he had left. But what mattered was that, with Wise, he didn't have to face it alone. And in the end, that was the greatest gift of all.
They lived their lives with an open heart, letting love be their guide, knowing that even in the face of uncertainty, they could still find joy. Together, they healed—each of them a little broken, but stronger for having found each other in the cracks.