Chapter 74: Let Me Study You, Alright?

Yuki had always believed that from the very beginning, Taiga could never hope to pull Tregear from the depths of either madness or confusion. Or rather, in Tregear’s eyes, Taiga was the true victim trapped in that abyss—a sheltered blossom, deceived and blinded, a hapless soul on the verge of drowning in a sea of light, yet foolishly urging Tregear to plunge in with him once more.

Of course, Tregear could only find this laughable.

They were never meant to understand one another.

From start to finish, they were parallel lines destined never to meet—their identities, their life experiences, their joys and sorrows forever set apart, never to intersect.

There was neither a listener nor a confessor among them.

Taiga had never truly tried to understand Tregear; in his eyes, Tregear was little more than a symbol, nothing more. Likewise, Tregear had never cared to understand Taiga; to him, this young man was but a name, a word, nothing of substance.

In the original series, they clashed for over twenty episodes as near-strangers, fighting until the final credits rolled and the scriptwriter set down his pen.

If one were to ask Taiga or Yuki then, “What kind of person do you think Tregear is?”, the answer would likely be something like, “A Giant of Light who denies being one,” or perhaps, “A villain—he’s done many terrible things, hurt countless people, and is unforgivable.”

Or perhaps simply, “A lost soul.”

Conversely, if Tregear were asked about his impression of Taiga and Yuki, what could he possibly say? At best, he might brand them with the classic label of hot-blooded heroes—brave, strong, impulsive fools whose pure-heartedness borders on naiveté.

In the end:

“I’m not really interested in what kind of people Taiga and the others are.”

Across more than twenty episodes, their confrontations were as if fought across parallel realms. When the series ended, both could only assign each other the clichéd roles of hero and demon king from a children’s tale, parting as strangers.

It was hardly fair to blame the scriptwriter; from the moment the chain linking Taiga, Taro, and Tregear was forged, the awkwardness of writing a dynamic between Taiga and his “father’s friend” Tregear—two generations apart—was inevitable. With the gulf in power and age, even the possibility of an equal conversation was out of reach.

And Yuki… well, for him to be caught up in all this was simply a stroke of terrible luck.

So now, as Yuki glanced at the bond value he’d gathered from Tregear on his Glow Key, he felt a sudden surge of emotion.

He couldn’t help but think his progress had already surpassed that of episode twenty of the TV series.

But if he wanted to draw Tregear out of his own “parallel space” and bring him closer, he knew the road ahead would be exceedingly—perhaps impossibly—long. He even doubted such a path existed at all. If Taiga, of Tregear’s own kind, couldn’t do it, how could Yuki, a mere outsider, a human, hope to succeed?

Thus, in previous conversations, Yuki had taken pains to avoid even the faintest hint of preaching. He had only shared his own feelings with Tregear.

He spoke lightly of trivial matters, of things wholly unrelated to light or darkness, justice or evil, life or future.

Yuki saw himself as something like a TV shopping host—appealing both emotionally and logically, while keeping his goal crystal clear: to “sell” his product.

Such undisguised intent, he reasoned, might actually earn a measure of trust, or at least lower Tregear’s inner guard.

Perhaps it might even amuse him.

After discussing the benefits of “wandering around when bored,” Yuki had to act as though he didn’t care whether Tregear accepted his invitation at all. He didn’t press for an answer, merely handed over the application form and let the matter rest. To him, it was nothing more than a pleasant extra; if Tregear came, great, if not, that too was expected.

It was just a casual move, a whim decided only when Tregear happened to walk into the bar.

“Yuki, do you want me to come?”

“Of course I do. I’d like that.”

“…And if I say I won’t go?”

Yuki’s expression remained light, showing little disappointment, as if he’d already expected Tregear to refuse. He nodded, “It’s your choice. But really, it’s rare to hear you say outright that you don’t want to do something, Mr. Kirisaki.”

“Is that so?” Tregear swirled the ice in his glass, then, after a moment’s thought, chuckled. “Then, Yuki, do you want to know what else I don’t wish to do?”

“I’d love to, if you’re willing to share.” Yuki’s eyes lit up, his tone brightening with genuine interest. “You seldom talk about yourself, Mr. Kirisaki. If you’re willing, I’d be glad to listen.”

Tregear seemed to sigh softly, pausing his movements. He glanced sidelong at Yuki and said, “You’re taking a ship to Alpha Centauri?”

“Yes, I know… it’s a dangerous route.” Yuki nodded, then grew solemn. “But I have to go. I have a mission to complete.”

Tregear’s brows lifted slightly—a look Yuki read as resigned, as if to say, “I knew it.” Then Tregear simply said:

“I don’t want you to go.”

Yuki froze for a moment—was this…?

“Are you worried about me? Thank you.”

Yuki sincerely thanked him, suddenly understanding why Tregear had appeared here—it must have been that bounty he’d posted on the black market. When Yuki paid the deposit, he’d noticed a clause stating that two percent would be kicked back to the inviter, so Tregear must have been tipped off by a commission alert.

He also guessed that his sudden interstellar journey was likely a cover for going missing on purpose.

Though that had indeed been Yuki’s original plan, now he had to stick to “hoping nothing goes wrong,” and leave the rest to fate.

A fifty-fifty chance—everything up to the heavens now.

“Do you have any information about it?”

Since Tregear had brought it up himself, Yuki couldn’t let the opportunity slip by. He pressed for details; if even Tregear thought it dangerous… No, from his perspective, there must be deeper intelligence.

The more he could find out, the safer he would be.

Tregear pressed his lips together, as if weighing his words.

“…Forget it. Even if I explained, you probably wouldn’t understand.”

So there was intel after all!

Yuki felt Tregear shoot him a glance, one tinged with a subtle disdain that made him uncomfortable.

“Wait, why not tell me? Maybe I do know something.”

After all, he held the script in his hands—unless it was some brand-new creation beyond Tsuburaya’s canon, even if he didn’t know the details, he’d at least have heard rumors.

He believed he hadn’t revealed too much emotion, but Tregear, a master of reading people, caught the confidence in Yuki’s tone regarding his own knowledge.

Just a human…

Tregear’s interest was piqued. He scrutinized Yuki from head to toe.

“How about… we make a bet?”

Again?

Tregear’s voice still held that faint, chilling malice that sent a shiver down Yuki’s spine. “What’s the wager?”

Yuki braced himself, ignoring the goosebumps prickling his neck; lately, his heightened senses made him hypersensitive to such malice—perhaps even his sixth sense had grown sharper.

Seeing Yuki “readily” accept the gamble, Tregear’s enthusiasm only grew. He shifted in his seat to face Yuki.

“Since you claim you might know… I’ll tell you what this ‘danger’ in the universe might be. You tell me its origin.”

“If you guess right, I’ll sign up.” Tregear tapped the red application form on the table.

“If you’re wrong…”

Tregear leaned forward gracefully, moving closer to Yuki, who dared not move a muscle, sitting stiffly while silently cursing these villains—one liked to sneak up from behind, the other from the front…

Tregear closed the distance from the front, yet Yuki felt no pressure—he wasn’t truly being touched.

The diminutive devil leaned in, whispering softly in Yuki’s ear:

“Let me study you. Will you allow it?”