Chapter Text
A year after his father’s death, Langa and his mother Nanako moved to her hometown in Okinawa, Japan. Langa wasn’t really hyped about the idea of moving across the globe, especially not into a cramped, smelly apartment. They had a nice, big house in Canada with a decent lot, and even a pool. But after Oliver’s passing, the house got too big for the two of them and it was filled with memories too painful to live with, so they decided to move to Japan. Or, Langa’s mom decided to move to Japan. It wasn’t really his decision, but it’s not like his opinion mattered that much anyway. He was too depressed and feeling numb because of his antidepressants to even care. Wherever he was, the aching truth behind his father’s death was creeping at the back of his mind, and he could only agree with his mother. “It’s the perfect occasion to start over your life, sweetie.” she had said when he only looked at her as if she just told him he wasn’t her son.
The move took approximately half a year to prepare, with all the paperworks and finding somewhere to live. In search of a new job, his mother contacted some old acquaintances and got hired as a nurse in the local hospital. They sold their old house in less than a month, and they left everyone and everything behind them, only bringing a few clothes and some belongings. Nanako had insisted they only bring the bare minimum, because the apartment she found was partially furnished, so they didn’t have to bring a lot of things. Langa only had a big suitcase full of clothes and two boxes of books and other things he didn’t have the courage to throw away. Leaving his friends behind wasn’t really a problem ; he didn’t have many of them. Langa has always been an introvert with a lack of communication skills, so making friends was hard and rare. And after his father’s death, things only got worse. He suddenly clammed up, even more than usual. It was as if a part of himself had died too, the day of the incident.
Langa shook the thought away with a barely perceptible sigh. When they finally stopped the car in the parking lot of their new apartment complex, Langa looked up at the building, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. The weather was hotter and more humid than what he was used to in Canada, but he was surprised by the clear sky. Summer only began and Langa had a few weeks off before starting school, but the heat was already on full-on mode. Melancholy hit him in the chest when he realized there was no going back, now. He had no more home in Canada, and this whole new world all seemed too much to cope with at once. Langa stretched his back and then helped his mom unload the car quickly, starting with the boxes identified as ‘kitchen’ and ‘living room’.
About forty-five minutes later, Langa finally put down the last box on his bed and was about to start unpacking his suitcase but stopped in his tracks when he saw the reflection of someone behind him in the mirror. When he turned around, there was a redhead guy lying on his bed with the box on top of him. He looked like he just woke up from a terrible nightmare, with his hair wildly pointing in every direction, his dark blue hair band doing a poor job of keeping them in place. The boy grumbled and lifted a hand to massage his head. Langa stared at him, unable to move.
“Wh-who are you? How did you even get there?” Langa finally asked, still shocked.
“Bro, I should ask you the same thing!” The stranger groaned. “What are you doing in my room?”
“ Your room?” Langa repeated, incredule.
“Yeah! My room!” The guy said, then looked around only to realize he didn’t recognize his usual surroundings. “Wait… What did you do to my shelves? And the posters? Why is everything down?”
The red haired boy lifted the box with a low grunt and put it aside on the mattress so he could sit straighter. He looked around the room and Langa couldn’t help but do the same thing. The walls were a light buttermilk shade, the most boring paint he’s ever seen, and there were even some spots on the walls that seemed to be freshly painted. Langa’s suitcase and his other box were standing next to the dresser, the other one on the bed. There were no shelves or posters, and even the furniture were the most bland things in the world. There was only a twin bed, a nightstand, a dresser and a desk with a chair in front of the window. The window was still closed and locked, so there was no way the guy would have slipped in through it behind his back, and Langa started to wonder if he was hallucinating.
“Are you… real?” Langa whispered nervously, feeling sweat running down his back.
“What?” The guy asked, turning to Langa with an offended look on his face. “Of course, I’m real! I’m as real as you, mate.”
“Ok, so how did you get here, then?” He asked again.
The redhead opened his mouth to protest but was cut short by Langa’s mother walking into the room looking at Langa with a questioning glance.
“Everything ok, sweetheart?” She asked.
“Uh…” Langa looked over at the boy who was looking at his mom with total incomprehension and annoyance.
“Wait, who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?” The redhead asked, taking two steps into the room in her direction.
“Mom!” Langa screamed, afraid the guy might attack her, but the next thing that happened made him come to a halt.
Nanako walked farther in the room, walking past the stranger.
No, even worse. She walked through him.
The redhead guy stopped in his tracks too but turned around, stunned. He patted his body nervously.
“Langa, are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost.” Nanako said with worry in her eyes, putting a hand on his forehead to check his temperature.
“Y-yeah.” Langa replied, his eyes darting between his mother and the stranger in his room. The boy was still standing in the middle of the room, looking at the both of them with a weird mixture of shock and realization. “Will you excuse me? I just need a minute.”
Langa rushed her mother out of his room, grateful for the guy to step out of their way. After promising his mother he’d help her out with dinner in a few minutes, Langa closed the door and turned around to look at the boy, stupefied. The other guy was shooting him a similar look, and they both stood on opposite sides of the room, too afraid to speak first. The redhead teenager was the first one to break the silence.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” He asked, his voice trembling.
“I’m Langa Hasegawa. I just moved in with my mom.” Langa said, making a hand gesture towards his boxes and suitcase as if to prove a point.
“That’s impossible...” He murmured to himself, clamping his head with both hands.
“I think—” Langa started but stopped mid sentence.
His thoughts were running wild and the only logical thing that went through his mind was that the boy was a ghost, just like his mom had said a few seconds earlier. There was only one way to find out if his crazy reasonings were true or not. Langa made two slow steps forward, careful not to scare the stranger. When he was standing just in front of him, he held a hand out, waiting patiently for the other one to reach out. When the red haired boy finally let his arm fall to reach Langa’s hand, his hand went through Langa like a smoke cloud. They both gasped at the revelation and looked at each other’s face, letting that sink in. Langa gulped down the lump in his throat and said the next few words with a perplexed frown.
“I think you’re dead.”