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He feels the chains before he sees anything else.
It’s familiar, that feeling: the heaviness pressing down on Noel’s wrists, the coldness sucking all warmth from him. And upon attempting to move his arms, the pointless struggle.
Any rattling echoes against the darkness, all empty. A complete void.
(He almost feels as though frozen in ice.)
It's now that Noel realises that his entire body is aching. Bruises, he reckons, and some pretty bad ones at that. There's a burning, cool feeling on the side of his right arm – a cut, perhaps. His jacket must be torn there, allowing air to graze the wound.
… What happened to him?
Noel's head hurts. There's– there's some sort of faint, high-pitched noise when he racks his brain for any recollection of previous events. It feels like… the echo of a voice, or something like that. A piercing sound, something of importance, but Noel can't– it's scrambled by something like static. Unintelligible, no matter how hard he tries to focus. Thinking about it, he might've gotten a head injury, too.
Was he fighting a Gangler? Or the Patorangers? Or the Lupinrangers? What was Noel doing out there? Who was he pointing his gun at?
At just that moment, light floods his perception. It makes him realize that he’s hung upon on a cross again, now exposed for all to see. Except he’s– Noel blinks a few times, adjusting to the sudden brightness. His vision's blurry, and he has to squint, but– there's something… Up ahead, there's some sort of shape, perhaps a figure; the edges are still sharpening out–
That's a person standing there. Or is there?
Noel blinks again and the figure's right in front of him. Then, it hits him like a flash of lightning, like the flood of light just now – He recognises this shape. The forms drawn by lines like these, the body they make up together.
“You're… Satoru.”
The figure shifts. But it's not because of movement; rather, it seems like the outline of Satoru's shape is glitching. Messy and fuzzy, phantomesque and malformed. It feels like he’s not here at all, and yet Noel thinks that if he were able to reach out and put his hand to Satoru’s cheek, he’d feel warmth.
The chains rattle. Satoru’s gaze falls to the side. “You’re in a bad state, Noel.”
Something about his voice makes Noel’s skin crawl. But it’s also so familiar, fills him with so much nostalgia, a distinct sense of longing for those days back in Paris. Thinking and tinkering and time spent with Satoru – Noel had felt less lonely, back then. Just a little bit. No, maybe a bit much, actually.
After Paris, he’d come to Japan, and there–
“Noel?”
There’s a sound like the scratch of a record. Satoru tilts his head curiously. He’s smiling and it makes Noel’s lungs contract again. “Seriously, what’s happened to you while I was gone?” Something about his voice– nothing about it is any different from how Noel remembers him, really, but still, a numbing feeling spreads across the expanse of his skin. As if he was being wrapped in a thin sheet of ice.
Noel tries to focus, wondering whether he could hear Satoru’s music if he kept quiet enough. But only the chains rattle, and it hurts his ears.
(Is Satoru even wearing his earphones? Noel hadn’t seen, hadn’t looked closely enough, but he’s sure that he is. It’s part of what makes Satoru himself, after all.)
“What are you doing here?” He lowers his head, so much until he can feel his chin touch his collarbone. It’s mildly uncomfortable, exerting pressure onto his throat, but that’s intentional. It’s better than looking Satoru in the face again.
Coincidentally, the light surrounding them dims. Noel swallows. Satoru is right there next to him, but the distance between them feels infinite.
The thing is, Noel remembers everything. It floods his mind – every scene, every line, every little touch and quiet whisper and eye contact exchanged and bits of comfort, of reassurance and warmth, seconds and minutes and hours and days weeks months. From start to finish, from the opening to its ending. Prologue and epilogue. It’s all there, vivid and present and palpably painful. So much so that he could drown in it. And it sticks to him, causing an ache whenever he moves or breathes, like dried blood, a nasty scratch failing to heal, one that probably wouldn’t even leave him in death. Outside and… inside, too.
That’s right. Noel carries all that grief and regret and guilt with him, of course. It lives inside him; in fact it has a name and a face. All that stands in front of Noel again, now.
He dares looking up and stares into a black void. A blink. Satoru’s still smiling without a single care in the world. “Why, I’m visiting you, Noel. It’s been so long!”
More rattling. He can’t hear the music. No flashes of white amidst Satoru’s dark hair. Noel sighs and bites his lip.
But instead of joy and more warm memories, what comes to mind is rain upon a car roof. Boots steeped in mud. The taste of blood– ah, that’s not a memory, actually. Noel’s tongue swipes over the new wound on reflex and it burns hard. Ah, right. That’s how it was. That’s how things are.
(The other memories bring delight, but staying with them would mean surrendering himself to being stuck in place, in crystals of frozen time.)
Despite this, something in Satoru’s gaze softens; despite this, it works against Noel’s pain, like a dissonant chord resolving. “I missed you.”
The problem is that no matter what, the chords in Noel's heart will never truly resolve. Because he remembers everything. Noel’s time was frozen twice, after all. First amongst a fire stealing all his warmth, and then in a cold, stuffed warehouse.
(He wonders what music he would pretend to be listening to, if Noel asked.)
He has so many words to say. So many things to throw at this figure – some sentences sharp, most of them soft. I missed you, I still miss you whenever I do so much as think. Can’t you come back to me? Why did you do this to me? To us? Noel’s chest feels so tight with all that he’s thinking about – and even worse than that, there’s the fear that it’s gonna rise up, all the way through his throat like burning bile and before he knows it, Noel’s hands are stained deep dark red again.
Pulling the trigger is so much easier than saying a single word. But Noel’s hands are bound this time.
Breath burns its way down into his lungs. It’s nicer than being frozen to the core, though, so perhaps he will just have to deal with that.
“...You don’t get to say all that,” Noel finally gets out, just under his breath. His tone doesn’t feel sharp enough. It doesn’t pierce. Ah, it’s so hard. So terrible and awful and crushing.
“What was that?” That tone holds the warmth of a dying flame.
Noel rattles his chains, iron banging against his bones. Once touch is managed, ice does fracture quite easily. “Satoru is dead and you don’t get to speak with his face and voice to me!”
There’s a moment of silence, lights flickering, and then laughter cracks the facade. Satoru has never laughed like that, yet it is his mouth, his voice making those sounds. Noel’s sure that even the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up, knowing who’s truly in front of him at this time. The cold chains may be digging into his limbs, but nothing hurts as much as a cruel thesis being proven true.
The figure drags a hand down his face. He is still chuckling, the sound bouncing off the walls to reach Noel’s ears and prick the inside of his head. A crack, bones rubbing against each other in a very wrong way. Shift of stance, shift in gaze. No more pretense. The outline’s running wild, colors are blurring, everything’s changing from one lie to another. But the voice that sighs, that speaks, is still, unmistakably, Satoru’s. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want this also.”
Noel freezes. Suddenly it’s all dark, he’s unable to see. “... What?”
“You can’t lie to me, Takao Noel,” the voice gloats as it moves through the room around him. “I understand everything about you. All your pain, all your regret, and all that you desire, too.” Still speaking through a hand on his face, Satoru’s hand. A filter that doesn’t even attempt to mask the shifting lies beneath.
Pink-tinted red glows in the dark, glowering at Noel, piercing through him. Noel can almost feel those puppet strings again, tying up his fingers and hands and feet and even his smile. “You’d willingly trust me if it meant seeing Shinonome Satoru. Because that’s the only way you could ever have him again.”
Noel swallows and tastes a hint of acid. He almost forgot how truly repugnant this being is to him. The Ganglers have taken everything from him, once and then once again, right out of Noel’s hands weakly clinging for purchase. And now one of the worst offenders stands right in front of him, wearing a corpse supposed to be gaining peace like a crown, a precious collection piece.
But unlike the real collection, it’ll never melt the glaze on Noel’s heart. Or on the other Lupinrangers’, for that matter.
Air next to his ear, cold as frost. “I’m a lie. You know that.” Claws slowly scraping across his arm. “But I’m a lie you’d love to believe. One you’ll believe in order to love.” Mocking gentleness in every move and every word. “I’m the only one you have – you, who has lost everything.”
When Noel rattles his chains now, the sound is dull. There’s something in his ears. It feels like… like being underwater. There’s a rushing in Noel’s ears, like water flowing at rapid speed, coursing through his entire body. Right, right, at the core of every block of ice is water that used to run. It is in such suspended water that a creature like Narizma was able to live.
When Narizma speaks, it makes chills run over Noel’s skin. Yet, there’s a – bigger than he’d like it to be – part of himself that welcomes it. One that listens to Narizma’s lies and still misses Satoru.
He’ll never have what he had with Satoru ever again. There’s nothing left. The last bits of Satoru have been claimed by this being of lies, have been co-opted to cause pain and hurt by the puppeteer, widening all chasms below and above. Noel tilts his head, before he knows it, ever so slightly towards where Narizma stands behind him.
It could also be Satoru, behind him. It could be the happiest months of Noel’s life. It could be the most profound warmth he can remember after his time at the Lupin estate.
A huff of air, the echo of a sneer. It doesn’t even register as mocking to Noel at first. He considers turning his head fully, but then the chills do set in. Reality comes pouring down freezing cold on his head. That is what lies at the end of this kind of warmth.
“What say you? Noel?”
He swallows. And makes himself remember. (All that has happened. Every scene, every line. From start to finish, the opening to its ending. Prologue and epilogue.) Warmth abound.
There’s still the blizzard at his back. At his neck. The one shackling his limbs. Noel curls his fingers up into fists, though, rattling, rattling – that’s long gone by. It hurts, still hurts.
But this part of Noel’s ice has been broken.
And the water washes cold over him. The water moves. It brings about change. Disperses his reality seemingly inlaid with bitter taste alone, to reveal the sweetness that’s been there for a long time, now.
“... It was your fault in the first place,” Noel bites back.
“But who was it that pointed their guns at you? Who shunned you out?” Narizma counters, eyes widening. He stuffs his hands into his– Satoru’s pockets. “It was those six, right? All of them, right?”
Noel balls his hands into fists. He should probably feel his nails digging into his palms, should probably feel the twinge of prickling pain – he doesn’t, but there’s bigger things to worry about right now. He closes his eyes and inhales. The memories flash before his eyes, cold rain and wet mud, all staining his uniform. Noel’s eyes staring down the gun barrels of the thieves as well as the sad eyes of the police officers.
It had hurt, then, of course. But a part of Noel also couldn’t help but tell him: you should’ve expected this. He did keep that secret from them.
But – and that is the important part – the day ended with the sun shining upon all of them. People were smiling at him. They fought by his side. Cold turned into warmth, Noel’s uniform feeling comfortable despite its stains.
“They might’ve,” Noel says, “but we’re past that. They’ve moved on from it – I’ve moved on from you.” That is, perhaps, the most he wants to say to Narizma at this time, the words at the center of Noel’s heart. It gives his voice a satisfying amount of bite, some sort of growl. “I don’t need you! Va manger tes morts!”
He rattles his chains and this time, it sounds like music. But nothing like the music Satoru would always play – Noel’s very own music.
Suddenly he’s back there at the port, throwing the card and pulling the trigger in Narizma’s face. And now, once again, Noel musters up the strength to break off his chains, the iron falling down with clattering clangs, pulls out the gun and aims it right between that glare of piercing pink, now narrowed in perhaps fear, perhaps anticipation.
Noel inhales, still burning. “Adieu– mon ami.”
There’s a sound of ripping, like threads being torn apart. But it isn’t unpleasant at all, no, Noel even feels some sort of resolve within that echo. It’s freeing, that’s what it is. He feels lighter now, even more than just being without chains.
(In French, the words ami and amour are frighteningly close. Remembering the earlier impression of Satoru, Noel almost misspoke there.)
With a clack, the spotlight switches on. It exposes the terrible act on this stage – Narizma on the floor, Noel standing above him with the gun in hand. His finger’s still resting on the trigger, despite not needing to.
In the harsh, white light, Narizma’s and Satoru’s faces are blurring together in front of him. Noel knows to distinguish them, though. Narizma’s the one pulling a frown; Satoru smiles at him gently, just the way Noel remembers it. It does make his heart feel like it’s sinking again, and his arm lowers in tandem. He opens his mouth to say something, although he really isn’t sure what.
He’s just never really known what he was supposed to do, after the music stopped. Even when Satoru was still there.
“–Noel!”
He turns around just as reality fractures, as a horizontal spotlight splits the darkness apart. There’s two voices, two faces. Two shades of red – ah, it’s Kairi and Keiichirou. Noel feels a light smile take place on his lips; he wouldn’t have expected these two to show up together, but then again, it also fully makes sense. It feels right. They appear to be squabbling, as they pretty much always are – Kairi teasing and Keiichirou getting exasperated in retaliation and Kairi enjoying just whatever comes back at him.
Actually, looking at them, it’s not clear whether it’s one chasing the other, or both of them running towards Noel. But that’s just how those two have always been, he supposes.
Noel looks back once more. Narizma– appears to be dissolving into black strings, the strings of lies, of a failed puppeteer. Noel doesn’t quite find it in himself to keep his smile about it – it’s not that it’s bittersweet, or anything, he just… he just feels numb, he supposes.
His gaze finds his way back to those he truly cherishes. Not the one echoing Noel’s bitter past in order to put him onto threads. He can’t hear what Keiichirou and Kairi are saying; really, their voices and faces are a bit fizzy – but what Noel can see is the hand reaching out towards him. The two of them.
Reality breaks, cracks spreading and running everywhere Noel can see. The shine of silver through the black.
As he takes both hands, he closes his eyes. The light behind his eyelids is blinding.
But Noel doesn’t find that he minds. Because it’s a light marked with golden warmth.
+
When he opens his eyes, Noel feels warmth again.
That warmth is accompanied with a slight feeling of sweat on his skin, and some heaviness. There’s– someone fell asleep on him? Noel tilts his head a little, trying to make out who it is – ah, no, it's just a pillow and some blankets.
He squints at it; would he have rather had it actually be someone? There is some sort of dull ache in Noel’s chest, but it feels much more like an echo of something else than caused by the sight of his loneliness.
No, he should correct himself there. Loneliness and being alone aren’t the same thing at all.
Noel sighs, looks around, careful to not move too much for reasons that he doesn’t care to ponder right now, and then he sees the TV’s glow.
What’s playing on screen are the end credits of a movie. There’s still-shots in addition to the text. Noel watches them with mild interest, his mind still waking up. Slowly, it brings back his memories of the movie, that is, all which he saw before he fell asleep for some reason.
There was… a policeman, right. A man with a golden heart in the right place, trying his best, although he kept failing at his job. His female partner found him strangely charming for… for some reason. Noel can’t not get behind it – there’s a picture on screen right now, of him laying on the pavement, blood dripping out of his mouth as he rings for breath. Noel smirks; the guy looks kind of pathetic, like this. It’s amusing.
The policeman didn't die in the end, it appears. His friends came just in time to save him and get him out of there. The last image shows the entire cast together, with bouquets – pretty much all of them are smiling brightly, safe for the actor of the protagonist, who is trying his hardest to retain a stoic face.
But it's evident that he's very happy, too.
Noel finds himself smiling, then. It looks like it was a fine movie. A fun production. Maybe he'll have to check out more of this Accel Police franchise. Tsukasa did seem to be a big fan of it, it was also her who recommended him the movie in the first place. Noel wonders if she’s recommended this to Keiichirou already, the protagonist resembles him in some ways. Sakuya would also enjoy this, he reckons… And Kairi and his friends, too, perhaps–
It’s there that the memory of the ache comes back.
Noel puts his hand onto his chest. There… there was something. A nightmare? A dream? He barely remembers it, but he remembers feeling relief at the end. Like something was lifted off his heart. The difference in weight upon him might be miniscule, but Noel can definitely feel it. He longer remembers what happened in that dream, outside of that he was cold and alone until he wasn’t.
But that ending’s really all he needs to know in order to be able to smile now.