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Wakatoshi Ushijima’s life had been fairly perfect until he turned ten; living on his family’s farming estate, practicing volleyball with his dad and reading poetry with his mum, making sakura mochi with his grandma and milking the family’s cows. Money was never an issue, and an empty stomach was an unknown sensation to Wakatoshi. Even despite his left handedness, he excelled in school and his teacher once told him he was as smart as a middle school kid. He was preparing to sit the entrance exam for Shiratorizawa Middle School in a few years, and his mum and dad loved each other.
Mum and dad loved each other.
When his parents broke the news of their divorce to Wakatoshi, he left the dinner table and stormed outside. He didn’t understand - no - he didn’t want to understand. His mum and dad had been perfectly happy for over ten years, so why all of a sudden did they want to split? Did they fall out of love? Can people fall out of love? It’s a scary thought, Wakatoshi brooded, and he wondered if that meant that his parents would one day fall out of love with him? Then what would happen? Wakatoshi would be alone, surely. It didn’t make sense.
He didn’t realise how far he’d walked until he turned back and saw his house was a mere spot against the blue horizon. Huffing, he decided that whilst he was so far out, he may as well go to the barn. Maybe the cows could keep him company. The cows made sense to Wakatoshi. Cows wouldn’t fall out of love with him. No, the cows adored him - they always let Wakatoshi pet them, and his favourite cow, Kikuko, even let him ride her when she was in a jolly mood. His plans were halted, however, when he passed the orchid and he heard laughter coming from somewhere between the huge trunks.
“Hello,” Wakatoshi called, mimicking his dad’s authoritative tone, though his hands were tugging on the bottom of his t-shirt, “Is somebody there?” A sudden movement startled him, but he remained motionless at the gate of the orchid, his legs heavy as if some sort of magical force was confining them to stand there forever. Emerging from the tree was a body, the body of a boy. Wakatoshi relaxed when he saw the boy and deduced that the figure couldn’t be much older than himself. Even from a distance, the person was clearly shorter than he was. Their pale skin looked more like smooth milk than actual human flesh, and Wakatoshi glanced down at his own tawny-beige wrist for comparison. The figure before him sported a bowl cut the colour of mulberry, though it seemed slightly overgrown and stuck out, as though it’s wearer had once been accustomed to having such a hairstyle, but hadn’t for a while, and was now trying to get used to the sensation of wearing one again. The figure was hollow-cheeked and gauntly, with prominent eyelids bulging out under thin raised eyebrows, casting a shadow over irises that Wakatoshi couldn’t decide the colour of, but rather processed them as a strange mix of crimson and ruby and scarlet against a mahogany canvas.
“Sorry, am I intruding?” The voice confirmed Wakatoshi’s suspicions; he was a boy around his age, if not younger. His voice was evidently male, but soft and delicate, as if his voice box itself was made of silk. Wakatoshi took a few steps forward, so the boy ran backwards until he tripped, landing at the foot of his dad’s favourite apple tree. The boy’s head whipped upwards to look at Wakatoshi in fear, his bowl cut following his movements as it swayed erratically before resting atop his forehead. His pupils constricted, revealing the red tint in his eyes even more. Wakatoshi would’ve liked to have another look, to press his face up against the other’s as though it were glass that he could look through, to get a good look at the splashes of strawberry-red hidden within.
He only stopped because a sudden flimsy layer covered the figure’s eyes, glistening in the sunlight and threatening to spill any minute now.
“Hey, it’s fine.” Wakatoshi said, dropping to his knees and reaching a hand out, “I’m the only kid who lives around here, it’d be nice to have a playmate for a while.” The boy, who hadn’t moved from his spot under the tree, let out a quiet gasp, one that was almost carried away in the gentle breeze. His lips were slightly agape and his eyes had widened, eyebrows knitting together and nose contorting in confusion.
“You’re not…scared of me?”
“No.” Wakatoshi replied, as if it were the most obvious thing on the planet, “Who are you?”
The figure cast his gaze upwards, and then side to side, before finally resting on Wakatoshi, “Satori.”
"Oh, we're on a given-name basis already?"
"I-uhm-if you don't mind." Satori squeaked, "I don't like my last name."
“Nice to meet you then, Satori-kun. My name is Wakatoshi. Did you move here recently?” Rising to his feet, Wakatoshi once again outstretched his hand and attempted to help. Satori declined politely and stood up on his own, twisting to brush off some stray dirt that had found its way onto his jeans when he’d fallen.
“No.” Satori admitted, gingerly following Wakatoshi as if the latter were some sort of wild animal, untrained and unpredictable, “I like to go for long walks. I didn’t realise I walked onto someone’s property. I really am so sorry, Wakatoshi-kun, I really didn’t mean—“
Wakatoshi sighed and looked back over at Satori, “Stop apologising. Like I said, it’s nice to have another kid round here. Do you want to see my cows?”
“Wow, your cows?” Satori chirped, saucer-eyed and eager, “You mean, like pets?”
“What? No, they’re farm animals. We have other ones too.”
“That’s amazing! Like what?”
Wakatoshi noticed Satori’s quickening pace and smiled, “Like pigs, and sheep, and chickens. We even have a sheepdog, and my dad has two race horses, but the cows are my favourite.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Satori nodded, finally positioning himself besides Wakatoshi instead of six feet behind him. Wakatoshi pushed open the door to the barn, “Do you have any pets?”
“I have a leopard gecko.” Satori chuckled, looking downwards and hunching his shoulders, “His name is vabo-chan.”
“Oh, you like volleyball too? We should play together.” Wakatoshi hummed as he made his way into the first enclosure, beckoning for Satori to come and see his favourite cow. The redhead in question hesitated, but slowly creeped forward before leaning over and gently caressing the cow’s head.
“Maybe.” Satori answered, a twinge of wistfulness lingering in the air, “It would be nice to play volleyball again.”
“You stopped?”
“Mhm.”
“Why?”
“I’m actually from Kyoto. We only moved to Miyagi recently so I haven’t found a team yet.”
Wakatoshi paid extra attention to the gate of the enclosure, locking it securely, “Oh, you had proper teams in Kyoto? That’s cool. I’m only in elementary school so our teams aren’t really teams, it’s more like an after school club.”
The occasional hum left Satori’s lips, small confirmations that he was indeed still listening, “So you’re in elementary school too? I’m ten.”
“I’m ten too.” Wakatoshi said, “But when I’m older I’m going to sit the enterance exam for Shiratorizawa Middle School and join their volleyball team. Then, I’ll naturally get a place in Shiratorizawa High School and join their te— oh, I forgot, you’re not from around here. Shiratorizawa is the best volleyball school in the prefecture.”
Satori trailed closely behind Wakatoshi as the pair left the barn, “Ah, makes sense. What position do you play?”
“Wing spiker. You?”
“Middle blocker. You know what my...friends called me?” Satori’s scarlet eyes refused to meet Wakatoshi’s as they darted around, desperately trying to focus on something else, “The guess monster.”
“Oh, because you’re really good at guess blocking?”
“Yeah, sure.” Before either of the boys could say anything else, a low pitched bellow pierced the silence of the field.
“Wakatoshi!”
Satori’s eyes widened once again, shoulders tight and fingers clutching onto his forearms as if his life depended on it.
“Relax, it’s just my dad. I ran out of the house before.” Wakatoshi dismissed the voice, shaking his hand nonchalantly, “Would you like to stay for dinner? Our meal hadn’t been served before I ran off and there’s plenty to spare. We’ll be having chicken teriyaki with the rice I harvested a few weeks ago, I helped my dad separate the kernels from the hulls earli-“
Beads of sweat lined Satori’s forehead as he grinned sheepishly, shaking his head, “I’m afraid I can’t, I need to go home now. Goodbye, Wakatoshi-kun. It was nice to meet you.”
“But—”
“Oh, Toshi, thank the Lord you’re alright.” Wakatoshi turned to face his dad, who effortlessly scooped him up into his arms, spinning on his heel and making his way back to the house, “We thought you’d ran out the front door. We’ve been running down the road calling your name for ages. Actually, never mind all that, you’re safe. That’s the important thing. Let’s go back now, Toshi, grandma’s teriyaki is waiting.”
Wakatoshi’s eyes ran frantically across the skyline for any sign of Satori, but he was nowhere to be seen, as if his pallid skin had become so translucent that he’d blended in with the rural landscape. He allowed his head to drop low, eyes aimlessly scanning the muddy greenery below.
Satori turned up a lot after that day. He still feared the rest of the Ushijima family, so much that he didn't turn up for Wakatoshi's eleventh birthday party, but he would happily keep Wakatoshi company when the latter found himself working alone. Being from the fancy city Kyoto, the fiery-haired boy struggled to understand the fundamentals of farming and was not much aid to his new friend. This frustrated Satori, but was never an issue for Wakatoshi. In fact, he preferred to do his labour alone with no room for failure or mistakes - though his friend's chatter danced on appreciative ears. Much like Wakatoshi, his friend even had a way with the animals. Even the most temperamental cattle settled at Satori's touch, as if he wasn't even there. He especially warmed up to the hens as they, in his words, "look like spooky monsters."
Wakatoshi had spent another fulfilling day on the farm. He'd come to the realisation that working hard on the farm served as a worthy distraction from his parents' issues, and he'd improved so quickly that his dad now entrusted him with almost any task, save for handling the bull. Today he'd busied himself with harvesting the rice whilst Satori watched from a few feet away. Although Wakatoshi had offered to lend him a pair of wellies so he could step into the waterlogged strip, he'd declined. He even refused to wear a kasa hat! Satori simply didn't seem to feel the effects of the heat like Wakatoshi did; his skin stayed pearly white and dry, his hair as fluffy and soft as ever. On the contrary, every time Wakatoshi brushed his hand across his face he was met with greasy locks and droplets of sweat. Satori didn't even want to drink water, whilst Wakatoshi had stopped every half an hour to chug an ice-cold glass. What he lacked in basic heat safety, however, Satori made up for in delightful chit-chat. Being an only child on a solitary farm, a ninety-minute drive away from his elementary school, Wakatoshi often struggled to keep a conversation going with others. Therefore, the other's ability to come up with topic after topic to converse about was comforting. Though even then their talks were usually one sided, consisting of Satori rambling about the new manga chapter he read whilst Wakatoshi swayed his sickle from side to side. Today, Satori told him about a game he'd once played, where students are trapped in a school and forced to murder each other. Wakatoshi found it strange and assumed it was a game they were probably too young to be playing, but hummed inquisitively, using the clues his friend mentioned to try and figure out who was behind the killing game - the "mastermind" according to Satori, who beamed with delight as Wakatoshi "seemed to be enjoying himself for once". However, once the sun began its descent, painting streaks of tangerine and apricot and honey onto the evening's canvas, Satori sprang off before Wakatoshi had the chance to invite him in for dinner.
This time, Wakatoshi was glad Satori rejected his offer, because it was probably the worst mealtime he'd had to date.
"Toshi," His dad started, voice slow and steady as he chomped into his sashimi, "I'll be moving away soon."
Wakatoshi threw his chopsticks down and attempted to retort, but was stopped by his grandma's firm palm pressing hard against his lips.
"Wakatoshi, adults are talking." She reminded him before releasing her grip.
His dad rubbed the nape of his neck as he gulped, "Well, since your mum and I are officially divorced, I had to look for another place and job, away from the farm. An offer came up, and-"
"I can still take the train to visit you though."
His dad leaned forward to stop his grandma from scolding him again. Slumping his shoulders, his eyes fixed onto the floor as his hair cast a shadow on his features. His mum and grandma shared a knowing glance before returning to their meals, neither of them acknowledging Wakatoshi.
"Toshi, I'm moving to America." His dad announced, finally staring right at him. Wakatoshi felt his world crumble to his feet. He loved his mum and grandma, of course, but he'd always been closer to his dad. His dad had taught him everything he knew; from farming to volleyball to life in general. It was his dad who'd praised his left handedness instead of shunning it like his other relatives. His dad was the one who tucked him into bed; the one who stayed up with him when he was ill; the one who secretly let him watch Crayon Shin-chan even though his mum despised the show, claiming it would turn him into a dastardly, delinquent, disrespectful child. Save for his dark hair, Wakatoshi inherited everything from his dad; his eyes, his facial structure, his love for volleyball, his left dimple. Everything Wakatoshi knew, loved, and cherished came from his dad, and it was as if like everything he'd ever felt was being stuffed into a suitcase and shipped away to the US too.
"I'm not hungry anymore. I'm going to bed." Wakatoshi hissed, though his voice broke towards the end, before stomping up the stairs and slamming his door shut. Usually, he was a placid and well-behaved young boy, but the emotions ripping his chest into shreds got the better of him, and he raged. Storybook after storybook was hurled at the wall, followed closely by pillows and then clothes hangers. Fat tears poured down his face, soaking his neck and covering it entirely with fluid. His throat burned as though he were screaming, but his ears were muffled and he could barely hear himself think as he heaved, raggedy breaths rattling his ribcage as he flung himself at his wardrobe, his wall, and once he heard the doorknob turn he directed himself to his door. Wakatoshi was abnormally strong as it was, and with the adrenaline pumping through his veins he was easily able to ward off his mum and grandma.
However, try as he might, he couldn't stop his dad who easily opened it. Wakatoshi let himself slide down against the wall and curled up in the space between the door and the wall.
"Toshi, let's stop this." Said his dad, who slowly and deliberately set himself down on Wakatoshi's bed, "Instead of running away, why don't we just talk instead?"
Unmoving and still crushed up against the door, Wakatoshi spat, "Don't want to."
"I know this is scary for you - it's going to take some getting used to - but you're a strong boy, Toshi. This isn't anything you've done, mum and I love you so much and that will never change, even if we don't see each other every day. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, To-"
Wakatoshi snivelled and pulled his knees to his chest, hiding his head in his arms, "Then why are you leaving?"
"Well you know mum and I have been arguing a lot, you know that we decided that this would be best for all of us-"
"But how's it best if you're going all the way to America? I'll never see you again!"
"Oh, Toshi," His father sighed, walking over to him and leading him over to his bed, "It's not forever. You can come and visit me, I promise. We can talk on the phone every night before bedtime if you wa-"
"But that's not the same, I don't want a phone call, I want you!" Wakatoshi shrieked, perhaps louder than he wanted to, thrashing the blankets until he settled under them, "Go away, I want to sleep."
Finally admitting defeat, his dad stood up, "Okay, okay. But I still think we should talk some more about how you're feeling tomorrow. Goodnight, Toshi, I love you."
Wakatoshi tried his best to stay completely motionless under the sheets, until he was certain everybody else was asleep. Then, and only then, did he sneak out of bed and manoeuvre his way through the toys, clothes, and books that littered the floor from his frenzy earlier. Silently, he changed out of his nightwear and opted for a hoodie and jeans instead. He grabbed his schoolbag and tipped it upside down on his bed, his futon muffling the sound of schoolbooks hitting the surface. He turned back to face the rest of his room and bundled up whatever clothes he'd thrown on the floor. Fabrics of all hues piled up in his arms. He released the avalanche into his bag. Then, he pressed hard on the load and squashed it as much as he could. The next item that he packed was a volleyball. He figured he'd still have to practice if he wanted to get into Shiratorizawa. Shiratorizawa. He grabbed his schoolbooks and rested them on top of the ball. It didn't work. He swapped it so the ball was at the top. Then, he grabbed one of the smaller blankets from his closet and stuffed that in too. Perfect. He zipped the bag and slung it onto his shoulders before creeping downstairs, dainty footsteps barely even touching the floor. He reached the gakuen, pulled on his shoes, and was out of the door like that.
Deciding to break out into a sprint the second he closed the door was a poor decision, Wakatoshi concluded as he gradually drew to a stop, the red dissipating from his vision as he hurled forward, resting his palms on bent knees as he panted. After a few minutes he'd recovered and straightened his back, his eyes shut and mind focused solely on the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. He finally looked down at his watch and let his other hand clasp his mouth when he saw it read 12:46pm. His bed time was 8:30, and his parents tended to be asleep by 11:00pm. He'd been running for ages.
He looked around, and an uneasy sensation crawled its way through his vessels and settled in his stomach. He had no idea where he was. Naturally, he had made a run towards the more built-up part of Miyagi where his school was, but this looked nothing like it. He looked behind him to find a labyrinth of streets, and he could not tell which one he had come from. Wakatoshi didn't know how to go back, so he did the one thing he could do - go forward. Derelict buildings loomed over him, some so run-down they threatened to collapse. As he passed a street corner, he saw two large-looking men clad in black, exchanging sly words and a small package. He made the choice to mimic them, pulling his hood up and staring down as he walked past. Despite this, he could feel eyes on him as they disappeared from his field of vision. Items that looked like needles were scattered across the pavement, along with small silver tubes that Wakatoshi could not identify. Music boomed in the distance, almost concealing the barks that were coming from seemingly nowhere. He ventured forward, quickening his pace when he found himself under a broken streetlight and immersed in darkness. Cigarette smoke and the stench of alcohol wafted up his nostrils and his face strained in discomfort. He walked past what he assumed was a bin, but couldn't be too sure as bin bag after bin bag were piled on top of it. The bright light of a convenience store comforted Wakatoshi as he ran across the road to reach it, only to find bars lining the cracked windows and barbed wire on the fences. Feeling his heart begin to pound, his legs urged him to move faster until he was sprinting at full speed, letting out the occasional whimper. His shoes met rubbish with almost every step he took, and almost every building that caught his attention was spoiled with bright graffitied curses. The one or two bus stops he passed were scratched and vandalised, with shattered glass left to rest around them, every single pane barren of unbroken glass.
Exhaustion got the better of Wakatoshi, a cruel combination of his heavy bag and equally heavy eyelids, as he blearily shuffled down a quieter, more residential street. His vision blurred and his chin trembled as he tried to look for a pay phone. His hoodie did little to protect him from the night's harsh elements, and numb fingers fumbled about in a pocket searching for loose change. Nothing. He made no attempt to stop the tears from trickling down his cheeks, though he did try to hide his soft sobs. Barely able to stay awake, Wakatoshi crawled into what looked like somebody's front garden - though it were more mud than grass - and gingerly perched himself under what looked like an almost-dead bush. He shook his backpack off and unzipped it, pulling out his futon, the freshly-ironed, pristine white contrasting harshly against the filth gathered on the floor. He pulled it around him tightly, yawning, and he worried that he was shivering so hard he might never stop. A few unsuccessful endeavours to get to sleep later, Wakatoshi twisted around to grab his volleyball from his bag, a vain attempt to cushion his head with it, but one that ultimately failed and left him sobbing even harder, one hand covering his mouth and the other clutching his chest.
"Oh my God, Wakatoshi-kun?"
Even though Wakatoshi's hand was wrapped so tightly around his lips that his knuckles were white, it proved useless against the hysterical scream that left his lips.
"Woah, woah, shush, shush! It's me, Satori!" The shadow ahead of him whispered, scampering over to him like some sort of feral rat.
Wakatoshi grimaced as a bright light came from below the figure, revealing ghostly-pale skin and pin-straight auburn strands, "Hey, what're you doing here?" Satori queried, looking down and turning his phone's torch off, "This area isn't safe, Waka-kun."
"Waka-ku...nevermind. What are you doing here then?"
"Me? I live here, Wakatoshi-kun." Satori jeered, but suddenly his face softened, his lips parting ever-so-slightly, "Are you crying? Hey, hey, don't cry. Why are you here of all places? It's half past one in the morning, and you're almost two hours away from your place!"
"I ran away." Wakatoshi huffed, clawing at the tear-stains on his eyes. To his surprise, Satori's eyes narrowed and rolled, void of emotion, his lips tightening into a forceful smile that held no contempt. He beckoned for Wakatoshi to stand, his eyes scanning the street cautiously.
"Put your stuff back in your bag," Satori grumbled, monotone, "Let me walk you home."
Despite his complaints, Wakatoshi did as he was told, a silent relief flooding over him when he found his legs able to hold him upright once more, "If the walk is so long, why bother?"
"If you've ended up here, that means you're too lost to get back."
"..." Wakatoshi's mind raced to come up with an argument, but he was too fatigued to do so, resorting to silently trailing behind Satori as he led him back through the pest-infested, darkened roads. A massive yawn escaped his lips as his eyes shifted, focusing intently on his friend's back. Satori was awfully quiet for somebody so talkative, and a gloomy aura seemed to float around him, encompassing Wakatoshi too. His heart felt heavy as his shoes scraped along the pavement.
"Is this because your parents are divorcing?" Satori spoke after a while, voice like sandpaper.
"Well, yea-"
"I think you're ridiculous, Wakatoshi-kun." The other sneered, craning his neck to face away from Wakatoshi's curled lip and furrowed brows, "So what, mummy and daddy aren't in love? Don't be such a baby. At least they still love you. They're probably going delirious looking for you right now. Anyway, I thought you'd gotten over the whole thing."
Wakatoshi lunged forward to shove Satori, but with ever-normal grace he dodged, face blank and stiff.
"How did y-"
"I told you, I'm the Guess Monster. Just like the real satori."
"Now you're being ridiculous!" Wakatoshi retaliated with another groan, "Satori aren't real. Yokai aren't real! And for the record, I was over the whole thing, but then my dad told me he was moving all the way to America. Satori-kun, I'm going to miss him so muc-"
"Wakatoshi-kun, shut up." For the first time in their friendship, Satori shouted, and a spindly hand reached up to press against a near-translucent temple that barely covered the navy maps within, "What are you being so loud for? He's not dying, he's just moving. It's not like you'll never see him again, is it? He won't forget about you, he clearly loves you enough to not forget you, so I don't see the problem. Yeah, sure, it's sad. Am I sorry that it happened to you? Of course I am. Do I think running away to the most dangerous part of the prefecture was the correct response? Absolutely not!"
"Yeah, I know, and I regret that, that's why I was cryi-"
"Seriously, Waka-kun, keep your voice down." Satori barked, pressing a bony finger to his chapped lips.
Wakatoshi crossed his arms and hunched his back, "But you've just shou-"
"That's...because I'm from around here. People here know me." Satori explained, and Wakatoshi saw his demeanour begin to soften, "Let's hurry, your family are waiting for you."
"You know, you're a lucky guy, Waka-chan." Giggled Satori as Wakatoshi spotted his house; far off in the horizon, but visible. Over the course of their journey, Satori had flicked between hostility and friendliness, but it seemed that his emotional storm had passed and he was back to the normal, happy-go-lucky redhead Wakatoshi was accustomed to.
"How so?" Wakatoshi breathed through a yawn, and his gaze landed on Satori's smirk.
Lips curled into a grin, Satori placed his hands on his hips, "I mean, you could've found yourself in some real danger back there. When I first found you, I thought you'd frozen to death!"
Wakatoshi didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all. His eyes fell to the floor, scanning and tracing each individual stone and pebble on the bumpy rural lane.
"You know how people call me the Guess Monster?"
"Hm."
"I want to give you a nickname."
Olive eyes brimmed with curiosity as they met Satori's ever-fiery ones, "What?"
"Miracle Boy Wakatoshi."
Wakatoshi's eyebrows curved and he looked away bashfully, pink tinting his cheeks.
"I'm just saying, it's a miracle we found each other, don't you think? I saved your butt just then, and maybe if things were different, you could've saved-"
"Ushijima Wakatoshi!" Three manic voices squaked from a distance, and the two boys could already see the built-up frame of Wakatoshi's dad running towards them, miles ahead of the two women, whose silhouettes remained further back and borderline-indistinguishable.
"Hey, do you want my dad to give you a ride back home in the tractor?" Wakatoshi asked, turning around to face Satori.
He was met with nothing.
Spinning around, Wakatoshi's breath hitched as he couldn't see Satori anywhere. Not a single ginger lock penetrated the blueberry hued sky, not a single footstep imprinted in the pebbles could direct him to Satori's angular frame and squeaky laugh and red hair. Before he could take another step, a strong hand grabbed the strap of his backpack and pulled him into an embrace.
"Toshi, good Lord, thank God you're alright. Oh, Toshi, look at you! You must be so exhausted. I'm so sorry. Come on, come on, let's get you in. I'll get you a warm drink of milk and then you're going straight to bed, you poor boy." His dad choked out, tears dampening his son's hair, shaking hands pressed tightly against Wakatoshi's back.
Moments later his mum and grandma caught up, also enveloping him in a hug. Tears were shed, words were spoken, sobs were cried out loud, but Wakatoshi couldn't see or hear or feel any of it.
He just wanted to find Satori.
"How did you manage to find your way back home?" His mum asked, unusually tenderly, "You and I both know you're not the best with directions. How did you do it?"
Wakatoshi looked around again, "My friend Satori showed me the way."
His family looked around, and his parents exchanged nervous glances.
"Wakatoshi," Said his mum, "I hope you're not turning to imaginary friends to help you cope. That's not a good sign."
His dad leaned forward and rested a slightly-less-shaky hand on his mum's shoulder, "Let's give Wakatoshi a break. He's had a long night."
As they made their way back home, Wakatoshi's dad halted, his son mirroring his actions.
"How about you stay in my room tonight, and I'll let you watch Crayon-shin Chan?"
Wakatoshi couldn't argue with that.
It had been almost three years since Wakatoshi's parents finalised their divorce.
The first year and a half was hard, really hard, but Satori was always there to comfort him. Even when Wakatoshi passed his entrance exam for Shiratorizawa Junior High School and Satori was enrolled in a state school an hour or so away, the pair remained inseparable. Wakatoshi had always been on the shyer side, but his parents' divorce cast a grey cloud over his first year of middle school as he retreated further and further into himself, struggling to make a single friend. He was sitting alone at lunch one day when Satori first turned up at his school.
"Miracle Boy Wakatoshi-kun! What're you doing all alone?" Came an ever-too familiar voice as Satori plonked himself down into a chair opposite Wakatoshi, his black gakuran proving a harsh contrast against the western-style white blazer donned by Shiratorizawa pupils.
Wakatoshi lowered his voice - in recent months Satori had decided he despised noise and preferred whispering - as he scanned the bustling cafeteria, "I don't know how to talk to other people. Other people are frightening."
Satori chuckled, "Other people are frightening? You look like a body builder, and you're only twelve! It's a shame your uniform is the same as the high schoolers, I can barely tell you apart from them!"
Wakatoshi looked down.
"Have you signed up for the volleyball team yet?" Satori asked, running a hand through his hair. He'd changed a lot since their elementary school days. Despite being a middle schooler, Satori was already five foot eight, towering over the majority of Wakatoshi's new classmates. He'd ditched the bowl-cut and allowed his hair to grow freely, sticking out at all ends like some sort of zany cartoon character, though it never once lost its fluffy appearance and cherry red pigment. His shoulders filled out, but stayed just as thin and spindly as before. His jawline sharpened, and his lack of muscle emphasised it to the point where his jaw looked like it could cut somebody. No longer squeaky in tone, his voice had deepened but retained its honey-sweet, silky-smooth timbre. In Wakatoshi's opinion, he hadn't changed much at all. Sure, he'd grown taller, and when combined with the hormones of a pre-teen, all those years on the farm had built up some pretty large muscles for a boy his age, but other than that he still looked the same. Well, at least, to himself. His cheeks were still chubby, and his jawline hadn't developed as sharp as Satori's yet.
"Yeah." Wakatoshi lied, "The tournament starts next week.'
Satori cackled, "Lies! I saw a poster on my way here. Tryouts are next week. You should hurry up and sign for it."
"Did you join your school's team, Satori-kun?"
"Sure I did! Now you should do the same. Hey, you see that guy?" Satori suddenly yelped, pouncing over the table and pointing to a blonde-haired boy from Wakatoshi's year, "That guy's called Semi Eita. He's a first year too, and he's just signed up for the volleyball team. Why don't you go talk to him, huh?"
"Fine, fine." Wakatoshi grumbled, knowing Satori's peculiarities quite well. He was certain Satori would scold him for not making friends, just as he'd scolded him for not studying hard enough for his entrance exam. He rose to his feet and made his way over to the boy, but just before he could introduce himself, he heard Satori call out.
"I've gotta get back to my school now! See you around, Miracle Boy Wakatoshi!"
And as normal, he disappeared without a trace.
Since then, things had been alright. Wakatoshi did join the volleyball team in his first year, and now that he was in his final year of middle school he'd earned the title of Captain. They had an amazing track-record of 0 losses in this tournament, and in their game last week they'd absolutely destroyed Kitagawa Daichi - much to the annoyance of their diva Captain and the irritating first-year back-up setter. Eita-kun became a very close friend of his, as well as some new buddies from the team. Lunch times were now spent at what was dubbed the "volleyboys table", but Wakatoshi always spent the last few minutes in the desolate toilets by the music classrooms, where he knew Satori would be waiting. Satori prided himself on his speed, and would make a point of running all the way to Shiratorizawa to spend lunch with Wakatoshi. He claimed he preferred it, because it was more entertaining than watching people eat. Wakatoshi barely saw Satori eat - he had an awful appetite.
"Satori-kun, can I ask you something?" Wakatoshi asked. As per their routine, Satori had waited for Wakatoshi outside of his juku and walked home with him, "How come you bother coming to my school every lunch? Not that I mind it, but if you're so against watching people eat wouldn't you rather go visit, I don't know, a forest or something?'
Satori smiled and closed his eyes, stopping dead. Deep in thought, he pondered on his answer for a while before verbalising, "I run to you when you need me."
"When I need you?"
"Don't get me wrong, you're a smart boy, Miracle-kun," Satori chuckled, "But you're an open book; I can feel when you're upset."
"You can't feel other people's feelings." Wakatoshi jeered, shuffling closer to Satori so he could scrutinise and survey every inch of his face. Unlike himself, Satori was the opposite of an open book, and Wakatoshi struggled to find what he was hiding behind that too-big smile and those too-gleeful eyes.
Satori shook his head, "I'm not saying I can feel them literally. I mean more...figuratively, y'know? I just...get this sensation. This little squeaky voice in my head shouts 'hey, hey, Guess Monster! Your Miracle Boy is feeling blue, go get him!', and then I just have to come see you."
"Hm, I think you're crazy, Satori." Wakatoshi deadpanned, lifting a hand up to his mouth to half-cover his smirk.
"Not true!"
"Sure. A little voice inside your head? I don't think that's particularly normal."
"What is normal?" Satori mused, half-opening his ever-scarlet eyes, "Normal is a concept humans made up to put themselves at ease."
Wakatoshi huffed, "You always talk in metaphors, Satori-kun. Explain?"
"Normal changes all the time. Just a few years ago, your 'normal' was seeing your dad everyday, driving an hour and a half to get to elementary school, and not knowing me. 'Normal' constantly changes, humans cling onto 'normal' instead of inviting change, because they fear what they don't know and don't realise what they could become."
"I don't think I'll ever understand anything you say," Wakatoshi exhaled.
"Sure, you mightn't always get my words," Satori said, looking upwards at the cerulean sky above, "But you get me. Even if you don't think you do."
"You're strange."
"Again, strange is a human-born concept."
Wakatoshi jumped towards him to give him a playful shoulder jab, but Satori ducked.
Huffing in defeat, Wakatoshi decided to continue walking. He had to milk the cows and box the eggs ready to sell at the market tomorrow, "You say these things as if you're not a human yourself, Satori-kun."
"I keep telling you, I'm a yokai!"
"Whatever, Guess Monster-kun."
"You'll understand one day, Miracle Boy Waka-kun."
"What dya think about soulmates, Waka-kun?" Satori sang, leaning against the barn wall. Wakatoshi was sitting on the floor, furrowed brows as he stuck a label on a glass of milk before pulling at the ruby ribbon between his teeth and tying it around the glass in a fancy bow, snipping the excess off and leaving it to hang in his mouth. The Ushijima family had always lay claim to their beautifully decorated packaging as the cause of their business' success, and in recent years he'd been allowed to handle the design process.
Wakatoshi contemplated for a minute, eyes fixated on the ribbon. The day he was given creative control, he'd taken the tractor into town to shop for supplies, and chosen the red ribbon almost immediately. It was silky, like Satori's voice; garnet, like Satori's eyes; translucent like Satori's skin.
"Never put much thought into it." He eventually replied, placing the jar into a shipping box and reaching for an undecorated one.
"I have." Satori declared, sitting down on the floor a few feet away, "I think anyone can be soulmates. I don't think it has to be romantic."
"Really?" Wakatoshi cocked a brow, "So you're saying friends can be soulmates too?"
With a shake of his head, Satori objected, "Not just any old friend. But rather, friends that understand each other on a whole other level."
"A whole other level, huh?"
"Well sure, I mean-"
"So what you're saying is we're soulmates, right? That's what you were rambling on about on our way home; about how we both 'get' each other. We are soulmates."
Satori froze. A deer caught in headlights, brows raised and eyes saucers.
Then, he grinned, and it was the most beautiful sight Wakatoshi had ever seen.
He'd never seem Satori smile in such a way - with every single pearly white showing, cheeks looking somewhat-full instead of sunken. His eyes crinkled, orbs almost hidden by thick eyelashes, but shimmering with the brightness of a thousand stars sewn into the night sky.
"Yes." He breathed after a while, raising his shoulders and looking at the wooden floor, face as red as his hair, "I think we are soulmates."
Wakatoshi's face scrunched as he leaned backwards, steepled fingers resting on crossed knees, "Can I tell you something, Satori-kun?"
"Hit me with it, Waka-kun."
He released the ribbon from his lips and held it up in front of Satori, "I picked this ribbon because it reminded me of you."
Satori's eyes widened once more, quickly filling with hot tears. His mouth twisted into another one of those breathtaking smiles, and his nose crinkled with joy.
"That's...thanks, Wakatoshi-kun. I mean it. T-thank you."
"What's been with you recently?" Wakatoshi's mum asked as he walked into the kitchen.
Wakatoshi looked around the room and deduced that his grandma was out shopping. He sat down at the table and got to work with his homework, "What do you mean?"
"Oh, it's nothing bad." His mum offered him a rare smile, "It's just that, well, you were really unhappy for quite some time. I worried about you a lot; you didn't seem to be making friends. In the past 12 months you've changed completely. I'm proud of you, Wakatoshi, though I must admit I'm curious as to what made you so cheerful again. Grandma said she caught you singing to yourself when you harvested the rice the other day. We hadn't heard you sing since, well, since the divorce."
"Embarrassing." Wakatoshi scowled, burying his head further into his textbook. His mum simply chuckled, resting a plate of fruit besides his pencilcase, "If you need to know, it's my friend."
"Ah" His mum sniggered, "Is this the friend we've never met? What's his name again?"
"Satori, mum."
"Yes, that's the one. Well, I'm glad you stumbled across him, Wakatoshi. You seem to be a lot brighter these days."
"Hm? Oh. Yeah. I guess I have." Wakatoshi stuttered, looking down at the strand of red ribbon tied around his left ring-finger.
"Y'know, Miracle Boy Waka-kun, back in the 16th century, the Tudors believed that the ring finger on the left hand was connected to the heart by a vein. Isn't that nice? It's like saying 'my heart is connected to yours'.”
"You dad's coming to visit in two weeks. He'll be staying until your first day of High School so he can take you there. He said he's going to bring you all sorts of presents for your birthday."
"Oh, that's great!" Wakatoshi exclaimed, a toothy grin erupting from his lips, though it was concealed by his book.
"Yes," His mum replied, "Now, how about you invite this Satori boy over for your birthday? I know Semi Eita and Ouhira Reon are sleeping over. Why not invite him too?"
"Yeah, I think I will."
Satori didn't come to Wakatoshi's sleepover. He said he didn't like being around others - particularly adults - and refused to elaborate. He did, however, demand Wakatoshi meet him at a nearby field the next night at midnight with a pillow and blanket.
"Ah, you came." Satori beamed, hands shoved into his pants, "I didn't think you'd make it out of that house."
Wakatoshi rolled his eyes heartily, laying down the blanket, "I was ten, Satori-kun. It's been five years, my mum and grandma aren't as strict anymore."
"True," Satori smily slyly, "Plus you know basic directions now."
"Are you ever going to let me live that down?"
Satori beckoned for him to lie on the blanket, though he made his rest on the bare ground, strands of shamrock green framing his angular face. Now fifteen, Satori had grown to be the same height as Wakatoshi. He'd put on a a tiny bit of of weight - barely enough, in Wakatoshi's opinion, but just enough to make him look slightly less-skeletal. Hidden beneath a baggy jumper, though, he looked average-built and almost healthy. His cheeks flushed pink now, no longer paper-white, but still pellucid enough to expose each and every vein that branched across his face like rivers on a map.
"We're like stars, Wakatoshi-kun." Satori deliberated, eyes trained on the night's portrait. Fluffy clouds sailed across the lapis ocean above. Delicately threaded into the deep blue were a multitude of stars, each one burning with feverish desire. A blanket of fog weaved in and out, hugging the white cotton and flaming sparks.
"Is this one of those times where you're going to speak in your strange metaphors?"
With an unintelligible hum, Satori continued, "We're like stars. Each and every atom in our bodies come from stars that exploded; space's very own ovens that concocted a wonderful combination of the elements to produce the beautiful masterpiece that is human life. Look up, look at the millions of stars in the sky. Don't they remind you of us? We're just two in a million, but our paths still crossed, like it was fate."
"I guess it is pretty remarkable." Wakatoshi chuckled.
"Yes." Satori gasped, "Yes, it is. Our entire physiology is conceived through stardust! The iron and carbon and calcium coursing through our blood are all products of a dying star's final words."
"Hm."
"I wish our paths had crossed sooner. Isn't it strange, the difference one day can make?"
"Of course. Twenty four hours is a long time."
"But the stars, they're always there. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. They never rest like you and I. Even during the day, the sun makes the sky so bright that we can't see them, but they're always there."
"Well yes, because the light-scattering properties of the atmosphere disseminates light from the sun across the sky."
"Wakatoshi-kun, are you always so literal?"
"And are you always so figurative, Satori-kun?"
"I like metaphors." Satori chirped, turning to face Wakatoshi, "I'm not that good with expressing my feelings. Metaphors let me say what I want to say."
Wakatoshi's eyes were ripped away from Satori's face as the other turned his attention back to the midnight sky, "Well what do the stars say for you?"
"Good question." Satori swallowed, "They say, 'when you're living in the light, you mightn't be able to see me, but I'm here. I'm here.', and sometimes they say 'isn't it wonderful how we're always going to be looking at the same sky?'"
Wakatoshi frowned, "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean what I said. You can't see stars without darkness, but that doesn't mean they're any less present."
"I...I don't think I understand." Wakatoshi admitted, hand reaching up to rest on his forehead.
"I know." Satori let out a breathy laugh, one so airy that it almost caught onto the wind and drifted away, "But whenever you miss me, just look up at the world above, and know that I'm out there somewhere, because we're both dwelling under that same sky."
Wakatoshi propped himself up on one elbow, staring down at Satori's face. Something wet shone under the gentle moonlight, sliding down a face contorted and crumpled, like a piece of paper, damaged and broken.
"Satori, why does this sound like you're saying goodbye? I-"
"Y'know what I think, Miracle-kun?"
"What?"
"We came from the same star."
Wakatoshi reached out to dry the tears, but Satori stoped him.
"No. No. Wakatoshi-kun, don't. Let me...let me have this moment" He grinned through a sob, "I'm, I'm fine. Just look at the stars, Wakatoshi-kun; they're shining for you."
Wakatoshi refused to move, so Satori flung himself upwards. Cross legged and glass-eyed, his eyes never left the sky, no matter how many questions Wakatoshi asked. Eventually, he stopped asking altogether.
"Wakatoshi-kun, I need you to know something."
Wakatoshi grimaced, "Why do you keep using my full name? It's unlike you, Satori-kun."
He received a faltering smile and the shuffling of clothes as a reply as Satori rose to his feet. Copying him, Wakatoshi stood, shoving his blanket and pillow back into his bag.
"My full name is Tendou Satori. I want you to go home now, go to sleep, and then look my name up tomorrow morning."
"Wha-"
"Don't interrupt me, Wakatoshi-kun. I need you to go home and do that. Promise me."
"I promise."
Satori turned and began walking in the opposite direction to where Wakatoshi needed to head. As the latter spun on his heel and began his homeward trek, he heard a voice call out into the night sky like birdsong.
"Goodbye, Miracle Boy Wakatoshi."
No honorifics.
Yobisute.
"Goodbye, Guess Monster Satori."
Wakatoshi rose early on Sunday morning after a restless night of no sleep. He jumped up, dressed himself, and put his futon away before sitting at his desk. He reached for his laptop, typing the words "Tendou Satori" into his browser and clicking the first link he saw: a news article from just over fifteen years ago, dated August 12. The day before Wakatoshi was born.
TEN YEAR OLD FROM MIYAGI PREFECTURE FOUND DEAD IN HOME AFTER COMMITTING SUICIDE
Police are investigating the death of a ten year old boy found dead in his family home after suffering a decade of abuse.
The boy, identified by his mother as Tendou Satori, was discovered by a neighbour who saw a silhouette of a body hanging through the curtains.
Upon further questioning and investigation, police discovered that Tendou had been involved with the Child Protective Services multiple times in his life, and had also been involved in a messy legal battle between his divorced parents when his father refused to pay child support. A handful of professors who taught Tendou in elementary school had allegedly reported injuries to CPS multiple times over the course of the 10-year-old's schooling, including but not limited to; bruises, black eyes, broken bones, open wounds, and belt marks. Other reports commented on the boy's failure to thrive, with some comments describing how he was "seriously, seriously underweight, [he was] severely malnurished" One teacher alleges that Tendou was bullied profusely for his physical appearance, with some children calling him a "monster" - also a play on his given name, Satori, which can be linked to a yokai. Other statements talk about Tendou's sudden withdrawal from the school's volleyball team, his habit of stealing food from the cafeteria, and how he allegedly came to school crying because "[his] mum killed [his] pet gecko" as a punishment.
Further investigations revealed that Tendou's parents had divorced a mere three months after the child was born, and the strained relationship between the pair led to the father, who cannot be tracked down currently, refusing to pay child support for many years before the court advised him that he had to pay. Bank statements and receipts found in the Tendou residence hint that the money received was spent on high-end designer clothing, bags, and jewellery, including diamond earrings, rings, and necklaces that were also found in the family home. Various objects were found stained with blood that is suspected to be Tendou's. Objects found by police included broken glass bottles, studded belts, and kitchen knives.
Anonymous statements from neighbours allege that Tendou was left alone at home for days - sometimes weeks - and upon questioning was unable to identify where his mother had gone and/or what she was doing. During these periods, it is alleged that Tendou would often knock on neighbours' doors and ask for spare food, and even steal groceries from the local farmer's market.
CPS had visited the Tendou residence a total of 73 times over the course of Tendou's life, but each report expressed no need for concern. Teachers from Tendou's elementary had routinely advised Ms. Tendou to enrol her son in therapy, but she allegedly refused.
Police and paramedics arrived at the house at 02:56am, where the boy was declared dead on scene. Paramedics suspect he had died at roughly 11:59pm. No suicide note was found at the scene, and police reports state that multiple empty packets of painkillers were scattered on the boy's bed.
Ms. Tendou has refused to give a statement. She is currently being investigated further by the Miyagi Police Department.
Wakatoshi slammed his monitor down and threw his head onto the desk. The pain felt almost like the pain he'd felt when his dad moved away, only this time it was ten times worse. It was permanent. Satori was dead. He'd always been dead.
In a sickening way, it made sense.
Wakatoshi had never cried so much in his life. He thought his heart was about to burst its way through his heaving ribcage.
Every dodged touch, every refusal to interact with others, every whisper he spoke made so much sense.
He wanted to scream, shout, shriek at the top of his lungs, but all that could come out were pitiful chokes, anguish-ridden and tormented.
Turning up at the front porch, managing to "run" to his school every day, calling himself 'Guess Monster', it made sense.
Wakatoshi bounced to his feet and sprinted downstairs. He collapsed onto the gakuen and shoved his feet into the first pair of shoes he grabbed. A pair of red trainers.
Red.
He made no attempt to stifle his cries. It was early; his dad would still be in his hotel. It was Sunday; his grandma would be out at church. It was sunny; his mum would already be on the farm, tending to her orchid.
The orchid where he'd first spotted the body, the body of a boy.
Body.
Wakatoshi whipped open his front door and charged out into the street without closing it. All he could hear was the howling wind as it wailed and wept, and the sound of his own ragged breaths. His legs cried out in pain as they were pushed too far, but the pain in his heart was far worse. Despair ripped away at him, every artery and every tissue and every organ bawled with woe, his heart so tight he thought it was truly broken.
He guessed it was.
Wakatoshi finally drew to a stop in the centre of a grassy field. To the untrained eye, it looked just like every other meadow in the Miyagi prefecture, but Wakatoshi recognised that one small patch of grassland - an indent still visible in the grass where he had lied only hours before. The surrounding turf remained straight and untainted, as if Satori had never been there.
How hadn't he noticed sooner?
"Where are you?" Wakatoshi screamed, his knees giving way and meeting the lawn with a crash, "What happened to 'I run to you when you need me'? I need you now, Satori!"
A twisted, distraught smile creeped onto his face, "Tendou Satori, where are you?"
Radio silence.
Wakatoshi didn't know what he was expecting.
Had he made it up?
No. No. He couldn't have. He'd never heard of a child committing suicide in his own prefecture. He's never heard the name Tendou Satori before. He had no way of knowing about Satori.
His nostrils flared as buckets of swear poured down his reddened face, teeth bared and lips curled. He pummelled the ground until his knuckled bled, and his head dropped into the ditch he'd made. The mud dampened as it mixed with tears, snot, and sweat, climbing onto Wakatoshi's face and crawling through the brunette strands that stuck to his head in multiple fat clumps. He laid there, screaming to nobody in particular, because he knew he couldn't be heard by the person his sobs were devoted to. In frustration, he jerked his head to the side, and hissed when something sharp slit his face, just below his cheekbone. Lurching himself up, Wakatoshi stared down at the ivory paper jutting out of the makeshift muddy wall.
A letter.
Despite being brought up on a farm, Wakatoshi had never dug so quickly before. His purple hands trembled and tremored as he opened up the envelope addressed to him, tenderly unfolding the baby-blue paper inside. It sported a meticulous cursive in red ink. The header and footer had pre-printed stars, though at the bottom of the letter a large star had been drawn in gold pen with a line down the centre, half labelled "Guess Monster-kun" and the other "Miracle Boy-kun". Below were the words "We came from the same star."
Wakatoshi shooed the tears away and strained his eyes to focus on the writing.
My dearest Wakatoshi-kun,
Writing this letter causes me great pain. My arteries feel like they're going to burst and my head feels like it's about to explode. I've deliberated on when the right time to leave you will be since the day I first met you for years, but the truth is that there's never a 'right time'. When you ran away five years ago, I realised that. Hard conversations don't have expiry dates. They're equally as sorrowful no matter the buildup. The thing is, it's never the goodbye itself that hurts, but rather the pain dismay heartbreak feeling of longing that follows it.
Sometimes I wish I had never let myself get so close to you selfish. That way our goodbye would not be so tragic.
I guess now you know who I was, I can tell you who I am.
When a human dies, they become an angel. If they spot a human they want to save, they become a guardian angel.
I am your guardian angel.
See, I told you I was like a real yokai! If you're not laughing reading this, I'll be disappointed, so laugh and say 'you told me so, you really told me so, Guess Monster-kun'!
You laughed at me when I spoke about fate, but I truly believe in it. Our meeting was chance. Totally coincidental. I was flying through Miyagi - I often do - to check up on my friends old friends. Most of them are in their 20s now. Some married with kids, others partying all night long. I wanted to know if they remember me were doing okay. I happened to stumble across your place on my way to Riku-kun - oh, you don't know him - a friend's house. He bought a farm a few kilometres away from yours. Angels have enhanced hearing, and I heard your parents talk about divorce and watched you storm off. I wasn't even going to come to you at first. The other guardian angels always spoke about how heartbreaking it was to cut ties with their humans, so I didn't want to get involved with you. It was none of my business.
But then I heard your parents discuss child support and I felt was lost myself a bit.
I might be able to read you like an open book, but I'll never be able to understand my mother. Part of me once believed that what happened to me wouldn't have, if only my father had paid the money, but then I remember that it only got worse once he did. Nowadays, I think my parents fell out of love with me just like they had with each other. That's why I stopped at your house.
I saw myself in you.
I remember how confident you looked when you first spotted me. It surprised me. I expected you to cower in fear and be scared. Years of being called a monster does that to a person, I guess.
When your dad came running over to you, I felt jealous my insides crush. It dawned on me, then, that you weren't like me at all.
Unlike me, you had hope. A chance. Loving
I quickly learned that being a guardian angel wasn't simply about preventing death, but rather about helping a person live the best life they can lead even if it doesn't involve me.
You really are a miracle, Wakatoshi. No matter what life throws your way, you'll make it through and prosper, because you simply are a miracle boy.
The fact that you didn't realise how brilliant and wonderful and chance-filled your life was really irritated me at first. I was envious of the opportunities you had. That's why I got so angry when you ran away, [btw, for an 11 year old, you were fast!! It took me ages to try and track you down in that dark place], because you couldn't see what was so obvious to me. But that night when your dad scooped you into a hug, I remembered where I stand in your life.
I'm an outsider, an onlooker, an observer.
I realised only then just how much I would ache when I left, and I considered leaving you on that same night, but I couldn't. I was smitten. I'm not really sure what the feelings I have for you are. I don't know wether they're simply platonic or rom something more, I can't tell, but I know we are soulmates. Not a day went by where I didn't think of you - and not a day goes by where I don't think of you, even now. Our souls are linked, I'm so sure of it, and I knew it would crush me to leave if I stayed any longer, but I couldn't bring myself to go. I am icarus, and you are my sun. You're the most enticing thing in my life, and my world revolves around you, but every word spoken was another drop leaking from my waxed wings.
Don't blame yourself. I chose this path. Just know that whilst meeting you was a mistake, it was the best mistake I've ever made. I don't regret a single thing I did with you. I wear every memory of us on my sleeve, every line you said is tattooed on my very veins, and every one of those rare and goofy smiles remain permanently etched onto my heart.
When a guardian angel's work is done, they're allowed to reveal their true identities, but they must leave. 'Leave' is such a loose term, I think. I'll always be here, it's just that you can no longer see me. But I promise you that I'll be by your side every step of the way. Materialising objects into the human world is painfu scar difficult, but I can manage it for you. If you catch a glimpse of something red, know that it's a reminder from me that I'm here with you. I know my job with you is done. You've grown so much, and yet the feelings I have for you are stagnant. Not once have I ever gotten bored of you, or felt our relationship was tedious. I've witnessed you grow your wings and spread them; from being a troubled little boy plagued by a family breakdown, to becoming the captain of the best volleyball team in the miyagi prefecture. You've built yourself a pair of wings - it's time for you to fly high now.
And don't you dare think about missing me, because I'll be celebrating every victory with you, and standing there to catch you when you fall.
This isn't goodbye, this is a hello. A hello to your best life. Go and make me proud, Miracle Boy Wakatoshi-kun.
With all the love contained in my blood/stardust,
Satori Tendou, your personal Guess Monster
[ps. shake the envelope. I left a gift for you. I saw that you'd made your own but since I can't touch things from your world, I'll give you something from my world so that we're both wearing the same one!!! Mine's wrapped around my left ring finger. Remember what I said about the Tudors? Now you'll always be connected to my heart]
By the end of the letter, Wakatoshi could barely breathe. Obedient as ever, he shook the envelope softly, and something silky fell out.
In Wakatoshi's palm, bursting with the colour of a million rubies, lay a single red ribbon.
"So, Ushijima-san," Kageyama called from across the gym, jogging closer to him, "Are you doing anything for your birthday tomorrow? Romero-san said if you come out for drinks with us, he'll pay for it all."
Wakatoshi put another volleyball away and paused, "Fine, I suppose I can tolerate spending a few more hours with you lot.'
"Ushijima-kun, don't be like that! You love us really! You're only 20 once! You know, back in Brazil we can drink at 18, you've had to wait two extra years, it's time to celebrate! Get pissed with us!" A heavily-accented voice, one that could only be identified as Romero sang from inside the storage room.
"Well I'm not getting too drunk, my dad flies in tomorrow and I'm going to be up early the next day to celebrate with him."
Kageyama shuffled closer and gave Wakatoshi the look - the one with the tiny smile and the puffed chest and the twinkly eyes.
Wakatoshi sighed, "Can I help you, Kageyama-kun?"
"Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to stay behind for some extra training. I really want to improve my one-hand set with my left hand." He shouted, bowing deeply. Wakatoshi smirked at his teammate's ever-formal gestures, and a cunning excitement brewed in his head as he wondered just how ludicrous he'd act when he got drunk tomorrow. Despite this, Wakatoshi shook his head, and brought his white jersey to his face to wipe off some excess sweat.
"Sorry, but not tonight. I have a thing I do every 12th August."
"Oh, a birthday tradition, I apologise." Kageyama blurted out with another bow before slipping on his Schweiden Alders jacket that he'd left hanging on the net pole. It was fresh and new, as expected. It was Kageyama's first year at the club after being scouted straight after high school. The eighteen year old was the youngest on the team, and every time Wakatoshi spoke to him he was reminded of the nationals in his third year. They'd lost, but upon returning to the changing rooms, Wakatoshi found a red vabo-chan keyring in his training jacket pocket and a post it note with the words "u did great!" etched onto it in red ink, and suddenly things hadn't felt so bad anymore.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Ushijima-san" Kageyama waved before placing his phone to his ear and talking to somebody who Wakatoshi assumed was Hinata.
"Bye, Kageyama-kun."
For somebody who'd once been horrific at directions, Wakatoshi knew his way around the cemetery as well as he knew the cracks and crevices on his calloused hands.
"Hey, Guess Monster." Wakatoshi smiled as he kneeled down besides the black headstone. The first time he'd visited Satori's resting place was the day he'd received the letter, and he'd found it barren and filthy. Since then, he'd made a habit of cleaning it annually on the day he passed. Likewise, Wakatoshi had made a habit of leaving gifts at the grave at any occasion; Satori's birthday, his own birthday, Christmas, New Year, the Spring Equinox. Sometimes for no occasion at all. His grave was adorned with red; red roses, red Wilson-brand volleyballs, and other red trinkets Wakatoshi found that reminded him of Satori. This included a vabo-chan keyring, a red gecko plushie, and a red good luck charm he'd bought from a shrine.
Quickly getting to work with cleaning the grave, Wakatoshi gave Satori a run-down of his week, and apologised for not coming to visit him yet this week. He'd been working hard with the Alders, and he'd spent most nights with Kageyama and Hoshiumi training even harder for the olympics that would take place next year. On his left ring finger - though a little worn and frayed now - was a red ribbon, one he'd tied on almost five years ago and never taken off since.
"I wonder what type of job you would've picked, Satori-kun." Wakatoshi hummed, plucking some stray weeds from around his headstone, "I think you'd want a quirky job, like a wedding planner or chocolatier or something."
He was pulled from his musing when something landed in his hair. He shook violently from side to side until it untangled itself from his dark locks, floating into his palm.
A single red feather.
He turned to look behind him, thinking it was a red bird sent from Satori, but he couldn't have been any more wrong.
Stood before him was was a body, the body of a man not much older than himself. Even from a distance, the person was clearly shorter than he was - though only by an inch.
His olive skin looked colourful and bright, as human flesh should, just like Wakatoshi's own tawny-beige skin glowed with life. The figure before him sported a wild and untamed haircut the colour of mulberry, though it seemed organised and well groomed, as though its wearer had been accustomed to having such a hairstyle for quite a while, and was already used to the sensation it. The man was thin but full-cheeked and healthy, with prominent eyelids bulging out under thin raised eyebrows, casting a shadow over irises that Wakatoshi knew the colour of; an ever-strange strange mix of crimson and ruby and scarlet against a mahogany canvas. Wings as big as trees stuck out from the man's back; pearly white with streaks of red buried in the feathers, only revealing themselves as the wind passed through each individual feather and exposed the crimson hues within. On the man's left ring finger lay a ribbon, a beautiful red ribbon. A soft and delicate statement from a voice box made of silk penetrated the silence.
“Sorry, am I intruding?”