Chapter Text
Harbour - To house, to contain
You have to understand that at the time, I was in a particular state of mind. I was a party-pooper and a fire hazard. Through nine years of 'gymnastics' and volleyball I learned to walk on my haunches like a cat, like a delicate little figurine or ornament. I made no noise in the night when I went downstairs, when I downed every Cheez-It in the cabinet, and when I harboured the pitch-dark jealousy of a twelve-year-old.
I still believe, even as I fly with the great, soaring eagle kid at the sleep-away-high-school-camp, that I still harbour a childish side. Since I was a little boy, I would love to run through clouds of anything: fog or mist in the mornings when I walked to school and bounced a worn-out, generic brand volleyball. Smoke from a barbecue grill at twilight or from a man's cigarette in downtown Sendai. Exhaust from a car while walking between them at a red light, shaking free from my father's grip for a few moments. Today I ran through a vape cloud. It smelled like the taste of one of those American Smarties candies, the ones that disintegrate when you drop them. Only more saturated and stronger, like medicine.
I sit at a little bay somewhere near the beach, one that is harbouring an American boat from California, California in America. After I ran through that vape cloud I had an asthma attack, and now I have a splitting headache. I sit at a little bay somewhere near the beach and think about America. America, the land of fakes and nationalists and buttery-bacon'y everything, the dream of everyone who's not part of it.
After a thousand years, Japan hasn't changed much. Or at least I don't think so. I watched the Kimi no Na Wa movie last night, and I was surprised at how their tradition was upheld in that little nowhere in what seems to be in the Gifu Prefecture. I've never been there. In her heart, Mitsuha or whatever her name is harboured a deep feeling of humiliation when the kids from her school saw her. They saw her, and watched her perform a ritual of some sortー I'm not sure what ritual because I'm an ignorant little-big monsterー in which this Mitsu-something girl and her little sister would chew up a glob of rice really well and let it mix with saliva, spit the runny solution into a special container, and put the stuff into a stone jar to ferment for a while. I think that's how they used to make sake, back in the day. Just to be safe, I will never drink sake. I don't want someone else's spit or chemicals or whatever they put in it now to be in my stomach.
No, Semisemi. It's weird and I harbour a deep hatred for it. Death Note will only bring this team death. No pun intended.