26. | ambiguous morality
2.1K WORDS | 26/06/2025
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Y/n doesn't often remember his dreams. And, more often than not, he doesn't even realize he's dreaming until he's aware of everything wrong about them.
But this one... he knows it's a dream the moment he blinks into it.
The air is almost syrupy with heat of summer as a shoji screen five feet away glows with the dying blush of a sunset, filtering long beams of orange light across the tatami. Outside, the endless cry of cicadas drill through the quiet atmosphere, loud enough Y/n can feel it in between his teeth.
He's seated on the floor at a low lacquered table, legs folded neatly beneath him, though his back aches like he's been sitting for hours. A fan creaks from the ceiling. The table is laid for an early dinner.
"Look who showed up."
Toji sits across from him. His voice is rough with sleep or sake, Y/n cannot tell but it's definitely one or the other. "Didn't think you'd have the balls."
Y/n doesn't speak.
Toji tilts his head. "Cat got your tongue, kid?"
"I didn't come here," Y/n manages. "It's just a dream."
"If you say so."
At Toji's side is a woman.
She's laughing. Her hand brushes Toji's wrist. Her eyes are soft. Y/n remembers her belly — round and full, the last time he saw her. Now, she wears a soft yellow yukata with cranes stitched in silver thread, and though her mouth moves, there is no sound. Her laughter ripples through the room like heat haze.
There's a boy beside Toji too. Small. Kneeling obediently. Y/n doesn't look at him directly —something in his chest resists it. There's only the shape of a child, a head of black hair, and a shadow where a face should be. Though Y/n can't see the boy's expression, he can sense that the boy is bored.
Y/n looks down at the meal in front of him.
A single bowl of miso soup. Steam curls up in slow, sinuous threads. Inside the broth, something pale and soft floats just beneath the surface. Tofu, maybe. Or skin.
Everyone else has full trays — grilled saba, simmered kabocha, tsukemono stacked like tiny colored bricks. The boy does not eat. The woman's hands are folded neatly in her lap, and she watches Y/n with eyes that smile too hard.
Toji picks up his chopsticks and points them at Y/n.
"Eat, kid," he says.
Y/n hesitates.
"It'll get cold," Toji adds, softer. He's pouring himself a cup of pale liquid now. "You like it, don't you? I remember you only eating that thing back when you first showed up here."
Y/n doesn't remember. But he nods anyway.
The soup tastes like river water and bloody ash.
Y/n feels sick.
A breeze lifts the edge of the shoji screen. Somewhere far away, a bell chimes; the sound is muffled, like metal vibrating under water.
"'Thought it would take far longer before my ghost start showing up in other people's dreams," Toji says suddenly, his voice suddenly so near. He's closer now — seated just beside Y/n, knees brushing against his.
Y/n's bowl is gone. He doesn't remember finishing it.
"I..." The words won't form. There's something thick in his throat.
Toji pours him sake. The cup is porcelain, blue-painted, chipped at the lip.
"Don't be shy. You said this is your dream, isn't it?" His voice dips, casual and fond. "You came here for something."
Y/n's hands are shaking. He folds them in his lap.
Toji leans in, one arm slung lazily over Y/n's shoulders. The boy beside him doesn't move. The woman is still smiling.
"You remember what you were planning to do, yeah?" Toji's eyes glitter — neither cruel nor warm. They look surprisingly clear, clearer than they had been back when he was alive. "Before you fell asleep."
Y/n blinks once. Blood blooms behind his eyelids.
( He's asleep in the car. On the way to his house. Hand resting on the knife tucked in his coat. Windows fogging from the morning chill. He's going to do it. He's sure. He has to be. )
Toji taps his own temple, grinning like a secret. "They all deserve it, don't they?"
Outside, the cicadas scream louder.
Y/n opens his mouth, but all that comes out is static.
Toji clicks his tongue. "You're overthinking it. Don't second guess what you've done to made it this far."
Toji suddenly stands, slides the door open to the garden.
Night has already fallen. When did that happen?
He steps barefoot into the moonlight. The grass doesn't rustle. The stars above blink at Y/n like wide, inhuman eyes. He looks back at Y/n, smiling like a man who's already made peace with himself.
"You've got that look," he mutters. "Like you want someone to tell you it's okay. That this is all justified."
Y/n's jaw tightens. His hands curl in his lap. "I don't know what I want."
"Yeah, you do," Toji says. "You wanna be free. But you also want each and every single one of them to feel it. Every ounce of what they did to you."
"...I don't — "
"So. What matters more?"
Y/n narrows his eyes, but doesn't answer.
"Doesn't matter if you answer here or not. This place ain't real, just like you said. But you have to make a final decision soon."
In Toji's hand is a familiar pistol.
Y/n flinches at the sight. "Wait!"
Toji pauses. For a second, he looks tired.
"You still get to choose how you live, Y/n," he says.
Then, without ceremony, Toji puts the gun in his mouth and pulls the trigger.
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"— Hellooo. Wake up already, sleeping beauty —"
A finger taps Y/n's cheek once, then again; annoyingly gentle, but persistent in its rhythm.
His eyes open.
The car around him is quiet, humming softly beneath them as it rolls uphill. The interior smells of clean leather, expensive cologne, and early summer air filtered through the A/C vents. Windows fog faintly at the edges, casting the outside world in soft watercolor — gray rooftops, power lines bending in the morning haze, and far-off hints of green where the mountain slopes begin.
The L/n estate sits nestled in those hills. It always has.
Naoya lounges beside him in the backseat, looking perfectly out of place in such a proper car. His legs are crossed lazily, one arm draped along the top of the seat, the other propping up his chin. His bleached blond hair is styled with care, but sleep has tousled it in the way that makes it look even more intentional. His jacket is loose, open at the collar, framing his neck like it's meant to be admired.
He looks like he knows it, too.
"Finally," Naoya says, grinning. "Was starting to think I'd have to kiss you awake."
Y/n shifts slightly, adjusting the fold of his black turtleneck. The fabric scratches faintly against his throat. a little scratchy, a little unfamiliar. He isn't used to wearing things like this — but it does the job. It covers the scar.
He blinks again, clearing the haze from his vision, and turns his head to look at Naoya fully.
Something about the way he's watching him — amused, curious, a little sharp around the edges — makes Y/n pause.
"You know," he says quietly, "you look pretty different from your cousin. Especially with that hair color."
Naoya's grin widens. "Pfft. I hope so. What kind of compliment is that?" He gives an exaggerated flick of his bangs. "Besides, you're the one who told me the bleach looked good."
"It does."
Naoya leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice drops just slightly — still teasing, but with a thread of interest woven through it. "So what's with the random mention of him? Don't tell me you were dreaming of my cousin of all people."
Y/n doesn't answer.
Naoya chuckles under his breath, then turns to glance out the window, tapping his fingers lightly against the leather seat.
"Didn't think you'd actually sleep through the journey," Naoya says, his voice lazy, but not without interest. "You tired? Nervous, maybe?"
Y/n doesn't look at him. "No."
He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve, fingers brushing the seam of his turtleneck. The fabric is too thick for summer, clinging faintly to the skin of his neck where the scar sits, tucked away beneath layers of black. He doesn't reach for the window, even as the cabin warms with the rising sun.
There is a pause.
Naoya tilts his head, studying him more openly now. "Huh. You don't usually lie to my face."
Y/n sighs. A quiet exhale, barely there. Then he turns, finally meeting Naoya's eyes.
"What do you want me to say?"
Naoya doesn't blink. "You really okay coming back here like this?"
"I don't need to be okay."
Naoya leans back, stretching his arms behind his head, still watching him from the corner of his eye. "You always say stuff like that."
The road curves, the car gliding forward; the hilltop estate barely comes to view. Naoya gives a low whistle. "Well. Too late to bail now."
Y/n's gaze locks on the mansion as it crests into view, no fog left to blur its edges. The building sits high on the hill, untouched and pristine in that suffocating, clinical way old money prefers. Its pale walls catch the morning light just enough to gleam.
Naoya tracks the line of his eyes, then smirks.
"Man. We're going home."
"I'm going home," Y/n says evenly. "You were never going to live there. Even if you married Emi like they wanted. She would've lived with you, with the Zenin's."
Naoya shrugs, unbothered. "Yeah, yeah. That's fair. Could've been fun, though."
He tilts his head slightly, gaze still fixed on the building ahead. "Shame she doesn't look anything like you. More like that charming little stepmother of yours. What was her name again — the one who never learned how to shut up."
Y/n's reply comes automatically. "Tsumugi."
"Yeah. Her."
The car rolls forward as the gates creak open, iron frames splitting like old bones. The estate opens up before them: a wide stone driveway curving around a still, pristine fountain. The garden is neat and precise in its greenery since nothing is allowed to die in public.
The car rumbles gently as it crosses onto the polished stone.
It's only then that Y/n speaks again.
"You do know you can still leave, right?" he says, voice quieter now. "Naoya. I'm not forcing you to come with me. This'll be dangerous."
Naoya lets out a sharp, genuine laugh. "Oh, please. You think I'd let you handle this whole murder plot on your own? I've been in this with you since we were kids." He waves a hand, almost dismissively. "I promised you, remember? That night you told me everything — sobbing into my arms like the dramatic mess you are."
Y/n's brow twitches, just slightly. "I don't remember it happening quite like that. Stop exaggerating. It sounds so fake."
Naoya shoots him a sidelong grin. "It does. But it's not."
"You're so annoying."
"You're deflecting."
Y/n makes a face. "Am I?"
"You are." Naoya's smirk deepens. "You always do that when you're embarrassed. It's rare, but cute."
Y/n turns to the window, hiding the smallest, smallest twitch of a smile. "Shut up."
Naoya leans back, arms folded, smug as ever. "You shut up."
The car slows to a gentle stop.
Gravel crunches beneath the tires as the fountain slips out of view, replaced by the steps leading up to the estate. Tall white doors stand ahead, flanked by manicured hedges.
Neither of them moves.
Naoya's gaze lingers on Y/n, longer than teasing can excuse. The usual smirk has slipped away, replaced by something quieter, something almost soft and tender; unguarded in a way he rarely allows himself to be.
Y/n doesn't need to meet his eyes to feel it. That steady yet wordless look is like a hand held out in the dark, waiting for him. Waiting for something Y/n doesn't know how to give. Not yet.
And maybe — just maybe — some small, buried part of him wants to turn. To let it happen. To let himself be seen.
But the timing is wrong.
And he's still too much of a ruin inside.
So he doesn't turn. He reaches for the door instead.
The latch gives with a soft click, and Y/n's face settles into that familiar, calm expression. The version of him his family expects.
Voices float in from the entryway. Heavy footsteps follow.
Y/n steps out of the car.
And whatever that moment is... vanishes like breath against cold glass.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
omg it's been a whole year since my last update haha, how's everyone been?? the writing style might have changed as you can uhh read above, it's been a full year after all whoops!! i actually haven't been motivated to write this in a long time, then that new jjk sketch of naoya from gege came out and i was like WOW MY POOKIE... and that was that!!
finally in the last arc of mine before a time skip is happening and we catch up on the actual jjk storyline; also a nasty familiar character showing up soon :D can't wait to write them, and also y/n's family yippe. hope you guys enjoyed the short chapter.
lastly, what do you think about the chapter (୨୧ᵕ̤ᴗᵕ̤)
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