Work Text:
Clair de Lune
It was said that when a person meets their soulmate, the red string of fate would immediately shoot out of their wrists, like blood streaming out of their veins, and establish their connection right on the spot. The world was lined with those red threads, each one coming from a person's wrist, all seamlessly connecting hearts in pairs.
The famous author Ushijima Wakatoshi, who published novels under his penname Utsui Wakatoshi, wrote about a world of love, loss and victory despite never having experienced it— love— and his co-authors found a certain charm in his work since he had a real feel and concept of what it truly felt like— the feeling of meeting someone and knowing that they were made for each other.
While he played very little volleyball in his life, he often found himself dreaming of it, being in the centre of the court and the star of the show, and in those dreams, he always won.
It was said that recurring dreams like those were fragments of a person's past life, but he didn't care much for the past when he's so preoccupied with the present.
"You know, Wakatoshi-kun, with your big fanbase and the huge number of people reading your work, anyone out there could be your soulmate," the red-head told his friend across their table. Soft morning sunlight filtered through the little wooden coffee shop's window, two cups of tea basking in it as a waitress stepped out to lower their awning.
"Now that you mentioned it, your last book's pretty amazing," the red-head went on, adjusting the sleeves of his beige turtleneck as he took the cup of tea in his hands, the bright red thread spilling on their table. "You really have a way of talking about both the complexities and simplicities of two people who are in love. Are you sure you haven't met your soulmate yet?"
The brunet from across the table managed a grin as he brought his cup of tea to his lips. "Thanks, Tendou, but as you can see…"
The lack of the crimson stream from his wrist was made even more evident with the way he had the sleeves of his maroon dress shirt folded up to his forearms. Tendou let out a light 'tsk' as he took a sip from his cup of tea.
"Oh, pardon us for intruding…" A pair of young women approached their table. "You're Utsui Wakatoshi, right? The famous writer?"
For some reason, being in the spotlight felt natural for him. It came to him like second nature even though he was sure he's never known this feeling before. The brunet nodded at the women with a small smile on his lips.
"We're a huge fan of your work," one of them started. "I loved 'Hope for Fire Trees'! It's what really got me interested in volleyball! I'm eagerly awaiting your next novel!"
"Thank you very much. I'm glad you enjoyed reading it," Ushijima replied, suddenly becoming very self-conscious as one of the women pulled out a copy of his book from her bag. Tendou noticed how his friend stiffened after being handed the book and a pen for an autograph. They both saw it as clear as day, the streams of bright red coming from both of the women's wrists. They had no idea where each of it led, but the brunet didn't feel any sting or pain in his own.
"Of course," Ushijima took the copy of his book and opened it to the front page. "To whom shall I address this message?"
The women were more than happy to have encountered one of their favourite authors in such an obscure coffee shop. They left the two men's presence with a quick bow, the jingling of the bells that hung on the mahogany door signifying their exit from the cafe, and effectively, Ushijima's life.
"Were you hoping for something to happen, Wakatoshi-kun? Couldn't help but notice how you froze there for a second," Tendou teased. The brunet chuckled as he shook his head, taking a sip from his cup of warm green tea.
"Tendou, you may as well be my soulmate since you know everything that's running in my head."
"So sorry to disappoint you, dear friend, but you do know there's someone waiting for me to come home, right?" The red-head said with a laugh. The silence that followed his statement gave way for him to ask his friend another question.
"Speaking of home, don't you plan on returning to yours any time soon?"
Home was merely a concept to Ushijima now, especially since he hasn't been to his for the gods know how long. He was from an ancient and traditional household from the Japanese countryside that still holds customs, heritage and prestige over anything and everything else. He wasn't thrown out by his overbearing mother after refusing an arranged marriage to an unknown, but he left their estate on his own accord, forfeiting his rights as the young master of their house by taking up his father's name, which happened to be the one he's known for.
Ushijima was the product of a failed arranged marriage that spanned a handful of years, his father vanishing from his life after divorcing his mother, and he would never forgive himself if the same thing were to happen to him and his 'bride'. His mother deemed his choice as foolish, saying he would undo everything their family worked hard to build.
Nevertheless, he knew for a fact that his mother's love for him never soured, especially since he would frequently receive correspondence from her, urging him to come home and undo the mess he started. He never became fully aware of whatever mess he left at home, but he was both glad to be free of it and ever curious about what it might have been.
Maybe he'll never know, but maybe he was about to find out as well.
As for you, your interest in volleyball was sparked many years ago. You often found yourself dreaming about it, the thrill of being on the court, even though you were clearly only a spectator in those nightly visions. The game was your first love more than anything else, and the thought of meeting your soulmate never crossed your mind until you read one of Utsui Wakatoshi's novels and fell in love with the concept of loving someone who was made perfectly for you. While he wrote the book with every detail he found right and appropriate, it was already common knowledge that he still hadn't met his soulmate, even though he was already 24 years old.
It wasn't a rare thing, of course. People could meet their soulmates as early as childhood, their threads only growing stronger the more years they spend together, but there were others who waited for decades before finally seeing the red string emerge from their wrist with their own eyes. Every now and then, you would look at the course of blue veins underneath the skin on your wrists and think of someone you never met and if they were waiting for you to show up.
You played for a V.League Division 1 Women's team based near the seaside, but you were all heading to Tokyo with the start of the new season. A heroes' homecoming greeted the entire team as you arrived in the city, the buildings catching light at each angle, blinding you as arena lights would whenever you played a game. Spotlights weren't your thing, and you never got used to them no matter how hard you tried.
Your teammates called it a grand stroke of luck when they found out that Utsui Wakatoshi was holding a book signing at a little cafe nearby your team lodging. Tokyo was large enough as it is and you never even expected to meet him there, so maybe you really had luck on your side considering how the odds of him being in Yokohama was nearly inexistent. You would take your chances, though, and meet the writer of those life-like stories you plunged into every after training session.
There was nothing to lose but everything to gain.
The book signing was a rather intimate event and those without copies of their books were sadly turned away from the premises. Even though you tried your best to be as inconspicuous as possible, the blue tracksuit with yellow lining was so recognisable that you had to sign a few autographs and take a few photos with fans yourself, something you still have yet to get used to even after all those years of playing volleyball.
You had just gotten out of training in a rush and hoped to be the last person that Utsui Wakatoshi would see, but there were a few more fans of his waiting outside the cafe.
Now or never, you told yourself. The cafe was quiet as the writer took a short break from all the signing, stretching his arms and hands as he sat before an elegant wooden long table that had a number of pens and sheets of paper on it.
"Hello. Are you here to have your book signed?"
You froze on your spot when he called out to you, a tiny smile on his face as he reached for a pen. Ah, he was definitely more good-looking in person, especially with that mustard turtleneck and beige-brown overcoat.
"Y-Yes! It's such an honour to meet you, Utsui-san! 'Hope for Fire Trees' is such a timeless masterpiece and I really related to the story!"
Ushijima was a little surprised by your enthusiastic greeting and he recognised your team colours though he couldn't remember the name. "You're from that team from Hitachi."
"Ah, yes," you handed him your copy of his book, the orange cover flipped open after he uncapped his pen. "They call us the rebels."
He gently pushed his glasses back up his nose and you couldn't help but think that he really was handsome and the photo used for his biographies didn't do him justice at all. "To whom shall I address this message to?"
"My name is…!"
"…" Your name rolled out of his mouth as he scribbled a message on the front page of the book and noticed that he was actually left-hand. "Good luck with your games this season."
"Thank you so much!" You gave him a bow as he handed back your book.
"You'll be playing at Yokohama Arena, yes? I'll be looking forward to your games," he held out a hand to you and you found your hand drawn in almost instantly, the odd intensity of your touch startling both of you.
"Ah, sorry. My hands are sweaty. I just, uh," you replied with a crooked grin as you shook the hand of your favourite author, the sting in your wrist undeniably electric and painful now. "S-Sorry, Utsui-san, I—"
Your hand was shaking, prompting you to look down at Ushijima, who had the same pained expression on his face that forced him up on his feet, the crashing of his chair enough to catch the attention of the cafe owner.
"Wakatoshi-kun, are you all right?" A red-headed man in a dark blue dress shirt approached you, his eyes wide with shock and wonder as he paused from his steps.
The glowing stream of red that shot out of your right wrist was knotted seamlessly with the crimson string that emerged from the writer's left wrist. It was a rather painful process as it did mean that you were sharing a lifeline now.
You saw the shiny thread from your wrist and how it led back to the one who wrote about a world you wanted to get lost in. Utsui Wakatoshi was your soulmate.
"I'm closing up shop, Wakatoshi-kun!" The red-head exclaimed, running to the cafe door to shutter out everyone else before hysterically pulling on his own hair. "What are you waiting for?! Talk to her!"
A hand flew over Ushijima's mouth as he tried to make sense of what exactly happened. The pain occurred for a moment but he was now sharing an eternity with someone.
He could see it. The glow of the newly-emerged stream of red that he waited so long to appear, connecting him to the figure standing right in front of him.
"S-Sorry," he stammered. "It's funny because I rehearsed it in my head a million times… What I would tell my soulmate when we finally meet, but now I can't really find the right words to tell you."
"It's fine," you let out a soft laugh as you raised your book to your chest. "You said everything I needed to know perfectly right here."
After hearing your words, Tendou knew perfectly well that his best friend finally found his home.
The cafe owner said it was the best seat in the house, and it was where he and Ushijima often sat to have tea while talking about the strangeness and trivialities of their lives. You were the one seated across the brunet now, cups of warm green tea before the two of you.
"I'm curious how you came across my writing," Ushijima started. "I know it's about volleyball, but I only started writing about it recently."
"I had dreams about volleyball," you replied with a smile. "It was funny because I never saw myself playing in my dreams, but I was always… watching someone instead. I don't know who he was, but I think whoever I was in my past life must have loved him a lot."
"I've never really played the sport professionally, but I… often found myself dreaming about playing the game and being the strongest player out there."
You couldn't help but think that the gods really favoured you with how seamlessly you connected with Ushijima, even though you've only met him. Whether it was luck or the favour of the gods, you most certainly outdid yourself now.
"So it was your dreams that got you into the sport?"
"I was, uh, betrothed to someone," you brought a finger to your cheek. "I'm actually from Miyagi. Do you know Sendai?"
"Can we still consider it a coincidence that we're both from Sendai?" he said with a chuckle.
"I come from this really old-fashioned family," you went on, his attention clearly piqued when you mentioned your origins. "My mother wanted me to marry the young master of another house, but the guy… he… sort of ran away from home. At least that's how his mother described the whole thing."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't believe the odds of this encounter ever happening. The strangest of all was he couldn't believe how much shared history you had with him without either of you knowing about it.
It was you all along.
"Were you… disappointed?" He couldn't help but ask.
"Are you kidding me?" You laughed. "I thought what he did was amazing. To think that he would defy his own family like that and start his own life somewhere. I had to admit that it was a bold move and I was jealous, so I… kind of did the same thing."
"You ran away?"
You lowered your eyes to the steam swirling above the cup, your taped fingers gently caressing its edges. "They wanted me to be the ideal young lady and they were holding onto the thought that the young master would eventually come home. However, they left me to do what I want when it became clear to them that it wasn't going to happen."
The string was still glowing.
"So I played volleyball," you looked up at him with wonder in your eyes, his olive-brown eyes staring back at you with the same kind of amazement as you held his gaze.
"Otome, you might not believe what I'm about to tell you," he laced his fingers together. "But what if I told you that I was the runaway young master of this traditional family from the countryside?"
"Wh-What?…"
"I was afraid," he looked out at the cafe window, the streets painted with streaks of orange sunset. "My parents were an arranged match that didn't work in the end. I guess I didn't want my own family to suffer the same fate as they did. Who would have thought that our families would know right from the start that we…"
It was a rare occurrence, but he knew his family had enough prestige and influence to have access to that kind of oracle and fortune-telling. His mother wasn't wrong when she told him that he would come home on his own accord one day.
"Utsui-san?"
"You can call me by my name, Otome."
"W…" Your lips quivered. "Wakatoshi."
The tenderness of his gaze was something you could get used to. It was comfortable and too familiar and it made you wonder how deep you really were linked to this man.
"We can go home, you know," you told him. "We have enough proof that fate tied us together even after we carved out our own destinies."
You beamed at him and he managed another small smile as he lifted your hands to his lips.
"Yes, I think I'd like that."
Maybe coming home isn't such a bad idea now.
End.