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If asked, Koutarou might even deny he is even real. However, that doesn’t stop him from looking across the meadow from his bedroom window and see if he can spot that vague silhouette before it disappears into the trees.
Almost nobody believes in forest sprites, but not everyone has been rescued by one before.
“Koutarou, did you finish your homework?” his mother calls through his door.
“Yes, I did.” And he had, racing through it so he wouldn’t miss a second of the sunset where he may get a chance to spot the raven haired forest spirit who had saved his life.
* * *
Koutarou’s arms stretch out as he searches for balance. Crossing a bustling stream on a fallen log isn’t the best decision he’s ever made, but his favorite spot in the whole world is on the other side of that creek.
A majestic rock juts from the earth. From the top of it, one can see the entire valley spelled out below. Koutarou had discovered it a few years ago, and it had quickly become his favorite place to think about all the heavy stuff twelve year olds tended to think about — girls, sports, homework, what middle school he wants to go to.
Nothing an adult would find urgent, but they’re easily the weightiest issues on his preteen mind.
The leaves loudly rustle when a strong gust of wind rips through the valley, and before he can steady himself, Koutarou knows he is going to fall into the water.
It’s freezing cold compared to the warm spring day, and it shocks Koutarou’s lungs the second he breathes in the water. Despite being a seasoned swimmer for most of his life, his head and his strength abandon him as he flails against the current strengthened by tons of mountain snow melting and returning itself to the land below.
When his lungs are about to burst from lack of air, an arm wraps around his waist and scoops him from the water.
Koutarou doesn’t have a chance to see his benefactor until he’s done coughing the water out of his system from the banks of the creek. When he does, however, his eyes widen.
This person is nothing like anyone he has seen in his life. Though a boy around his own age, his savior has black wavy hair that sticks out every which way, bright green eyes, and honeyed skin toned by hours in the sun.
That part, he can understand. The stranger aspect is the wreath made of twigs resting on the other boy’s brow, as well as the only garment on him being something resembling a loincloth made of tightly woven willow branches.
“Thank you,” Koutarou wheezes when he regains his breath and his faculties.
His new companion smiles at him, a slight thing that seems to set his entire being aglow nonetheless. “You should be more careful. The water is unforgiving this time of year.”
Koutarou nods, still awestruck by this person he isn’t entirely convinced is real and not something conjured up by his oxygen-deprived brain. Finally, he manages, “Who are you?”
“Keiji,” his companion says, averting his eyes to try and fail to hide the slight blush on his cheeks. “I’ve never actually touched a human before. You’re very warm.”
“A what?” Koutarou gawks at Keiji. “You said you never touched a human before. Are you, like, some sort of wild kid who lives in the woods?”
“Something like that.” Keiji extends his arm, and when he curls his fingers, all the leaves on all the trees rustle in reply. “I live here in the forest, but I am also of the forest.”
Koutarou frowns in thought — something he doesn’t do often because he dislikes how stupid he looks when he does. How can somebody be ‘of the forest’? The only things that phrase conjures are things from storybooks like sprites and fairies and —
His eyes widen. “You’re not a regular person, are you?”
Shaking his head, Keiji says, “No, I’m not. I’m as old as the earth itself but as young as the newest sapling.”
“Uh, what?” Koutarou scratches his head. “I don’t know what that means. I just thought you were a fairy or something like that.”
A giggle widens Keiji’s smile. “I prefer the term ‘sprite’ or ‘spirit’, but overall, yes. There isn’t a human word for what I am, but either of those will do.”
Koutarou beams. “That’s so friggin cool, man! You don’t have to wear pants or go to school or junk like that. You can just go around and make the leaves do stuff by, like, wiggling a finger or something.”
Keiji’s good spirits flag just enough for Koutarou to notice. “I can do these things, and maybe a few millennia ago, it would’ve amused me.”
“Oh.” Koutarou can’t think of any of his favorite things he would ever get tired of doing no matter how long he did them, but he is also twelve and not ageless. Or alone. “You’re lonely, aren’t you.”
“A little.” Keiji sits on the grass next to Koutarou and wraps his arms around his knees. “The trees and the grass and the animals all keep me company, but they all speak in harmony. But you —” Keiji’s lips spread into something that’s almost a grin. “I have no idea what you’re thinking or what you’re going to say, and I enjoy it very much.”
“Awesome!” Koutarou gives Keiji a thumbs up. “Well, if you want me to come visit you, you can just say so. I won’t say anything to anyone if you don’t want me to.”
Keiji nods. “I’d like that very much, Koutarou.”
Koutarou gasps at the sound of his name. “How do you know who I am?”
“I am Bokuto Koutarou, the best volleyball player in the world!” Keiji mimics in a fair facsimile of Koutarou’s voice, an echo of his embarrassing declaration to the world last time he visited his Thinking Rock.
“Oh.” It’s Koutarou’s turn to blush. “I didn’t know anyone was listening. I just wanted it to be true.”
“It will be if you work for it.” Keiji stands and offers Koutarou a hand up. “You should go home and change before your wet clothes make you sick.”
A ‘no’ nearly squeaks out of Koutarou, but he knows Keiji is correct. “Yeah, I guess. Will I see you around?”
“Go to your window at sunset, and you’ll see me. I might not appear if you come looking for me, but I’ll always come see you at dusk.”
“I will.”
Koutarou heads back to his house at the edge of the woods, turning back to wave to Keiji only to find himself alone once more. But when Keiji says he will appear, Koutarou doesn’t doubt for a moment that it’s the truth.
* * *
Just as the last arc of the sun disappears from the horizon, a golden figure lights up with its descending rays, and Koutarou knows it’s Keiji. He waves like a lunatic, and something churns in his belly when Keiji waves back.
He doesn’t know how he made friends with an eternal being, but Koutarou is almost thankful for his near-death experience because it brought him a new meaning to his life, to all life.