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“She doesn’t even recognize you anymore.” The inner voice of his said, imitating the intrusive thoughts younger people are having nowadays.
“Oh, shut up.” He snapped, eyes focused solely on the reflection of his hands on the mirror. His fingers are moving swiftly, buttoning his shirt down to the last button. Then, he looks straight at the reflection of his own eyes. “I’m used to it already.”
—
Kuroo sits by the surgery waiting room, a lady on her late fifties on his right and a young couple, seemingly newlyweds, on his left. Overhearing the conversation between the newlyweds and the nurses, he assumes that the couple was waiting for the woman's mother's surgery. The two look completely worn out and exhausted, traces of tears can be found all over the woman's face.
While he was busy observing the surrounding, the old lady on his right dropped her hand fan and was struggling to get her hands on it. He comes to her aid, giving back the folded fan politely after picking it up. The lady smiles at him and he returns it with the most well-mannered expression he can pull.
"What a fine man you are. Can this old woman bother you to a chat for a little while?" She asks, her eyes turn into a crescent. He nods accordingly, smile never leaving his face.
"Mind if I ask who you are waiting for?" She asks again, but this time, for the splitest second, he drops his refined facade. He looks quite taken aback instead, but nobody notices it because he swaps his expression back very quickly.
"Of course I won't mind. It's... a friend. She's undergoing a tumor removal." He blabbers a full yet coherent made-up story.
"Oh, God... Is it bad?"
"No, not really. She's lucky she got it spotted quite early so the chance of having drawbacks will be less likely."
"Thank goodness. I wish your friend a speedy recovery. I'm sorry if I sounded rude, but is she perhaps your lover?"
He laughs. He wants to laugh even louder than he is right now, but he knows his place. He's in a hospital waiting room, after all. And he feels kinda sorry towards this lady for deceiving her, too. "I'm sorry, Mrs...?"
"Oh! It's Yachi. I'm terribly sorry for not introducing myself earlier." The old lady proceeds to bow her upper body, but he holds her hands, signaling her to stop bowing.
"No, no... It's okay, Mrs. Yachi. And no, you didn't sound rude to me. We're just friends. Currently she doesn't have anyone to look after her, so I came to help."
More lies are being fed.
"I see... You're not only fine-looking, but you've got a fine heart, too." said Mrs. Yachi, her eyes dart aimlessly towards the hospital's wall. "It will be nice if Madoka got a man like you by her side..."
He smiles bitterly, more to himself.
"You see, young man. I am now waiting for my dear daughter... She's currently fighting for herself and the child inside her. All alone, all by herself..."
Tears are starting to fall from her wrinkly eyes. He who watches it from the time they form to the time they finally fall, offers his handkerchief, putting it on the lady's free palm.
"Her husband went away on their third month of marriage. Madoka said they had a dispute. He didn't want her to keep working, but Madoka, being the usually stubborn she is, didn't comply to his wish." Mrs. Yachi said in between her weep. Her hands start to wipe away the flowing tears with the younger guy's handkerchief.
"Little did he know, Madoka was already pregnant at that time. And then she continues her life like it was nothing... She never asked for help, not even once. Even I, her own mother, only know about her going to give labor a week ago..."
He fell silent. No, not because he's at a loss of word for the heartbreaking story about Mrs. Yachi's daughter. Quite the opposite, actually. It's because he knows about it all along.
He knows it all too well.
"I wish her a smooth delivery, Mrs. Yachi. A strong woman like her doesn't deserve anymore hardship in her life."
"Thank you very much. You are indeed a good man." A smile envelops Mrs. Yachi's teary face. The crescent eyes from a while ago makes its reappearance.
He flinches at the old lady's remark. I am no good man. I literally spouted lies and nonsenses at ease, he thinks to himself.
"Ahaha, no, I am not. Anyway, may I know if it's going to be a daughter? Or a son?"
Here we go, another act of pretending to not know.
"Of course! I'm glad you asked. It's going to be a daughter, as far as I know."
He smiles to himself again, the same bitter smile from a little while ago.
"Have you decided on a name yet?"
Mrs. Yachi shakes her head, "I have not. I don't know if Madoka has already decided on one, but I don't think she has." Then, she turns her head to meet his, "Do you perhaps have any suggestion?"
"Yes, sort of... I like to research for names. How do Hitoka sounds?"
And with that, yet another lie came off from his pretty lips.
"Hitoka... It's delightful. May I know the meaning behind it?"
He turns his head, facing in front. His eyes softens, eventhough it looks hollower than before. "It's... a prayer. I wish she'll grow into an amazing woman; as kind as an angel and as beautiful as a flower." Then, he faces the old lady again, flashing his sweet, tender smile, "I mean, she has a great lady as a grandmother, doesn't she?"
He’s sincere this time. Mrs. Yachi, who's been mesmerized by this guy's sincerity, is stumbling to form a sentence. But, before she can finally react to his explanation, the nurses barge out from one of the surgery room, bringing out the wheel bed with a woman in her late 20s who shares similar features with Mrs. Yachi on it. The nurses make their way towards the other end of the hospital, while a doctor approaches Mrs. Yachi.
While the old lady is having her time taken by the doctor’s explanation, he slips away from the waiting room. Leaving the old Mrs. Yachi with a memory of enigmatic young man who she doesn’t even remember to ask the name for.
—
Kuroo stands by the elementary school’s gate. It is now the “going back home” time for the day. Bunches of student have hurriedly exited the school main gate, most of them were running in groups. But there are also another bunch of students who stay, probably waiting to be picked up.
“Yachi-chan, my mom’s here. Bye, bye! See you tomorrow!” A girl who has her hair styled updo waves her hand to another blond girl with a left-side ponytail who currently sits on a swing. The blond girl nods cheerfully, waving back to her friend.
“See you tomorrow!”
With that exchange, she gets up from the swing and reaches for her backpack which she had placed on the ground near the swing before. After that, she goes straight to the school gate, walking back home.
Her walk back home is not the shortest one, but it always goes uneventful. She never mind it, though. She feels grateful instead. All she needs is to get back home safely, so her single mother won’t have to add her long list of things to worry anymore.
Kuroo, on the other hand, will always tail her and make sure that the girl arrives at home safely. It always works, she will always get home safely and he will never get spotted by anyone, even Yachi herself, for tailing her.
Until someday on her sixth year of elementary school days.
That day, he was late—he didn't arrive at his usual arrival time. But, Yachi proceeded her day just like any other day. She was about to left the school park after all of her friends got picked up by their guardians. Then, the school security officer who's patroling near the school park greeted her, and she greeted him back.
"Are you leaving now?" He asked, and she nodded her head in response.
"Why don't you wait here for a while? I don't think your father's here already to pick you up."
Yachi tilted her head to the side, confused. "But, Sir... I only live with my mother."
And from that day onward, Kuroo never shows his face on Yachi's elementary school anymore.
—
The blond girl is crying on her way back home. She doesn't even bother to change her Karasuno jersey attire with her usual high school uniform. In fact, she actually forgot to pick her uniform from the locker room because she just stormed out of the gym earlier. She said goodbye hurriedly to Kiyoko, the older manager, claiming that there’s somewhere that she needs to be at urgently.
When in fact, she just wanders around aimlessly with reddened eyes and traces of tears on her face.
Not long after, rain suddenly pours hard. She looks up to the dark sky, cursing under her breath for forgetting her umbrella on the locker room too.
She walks towards the nearest bus stop, waiting for the rain to stop. She brushes her two palms against each other, trying to get more warmth by doing so.
There’s nobody on that bus stop except for a young looking man wearing black hoodie with its hood covering most part of his head. Nevertheless, the spikey part of that raven hair peeks out from the hood.
The man looks like he’s got his own umbrella, so she assumes that he was waiting for someone on that bus stop.
Little did she know that it was her.
All of a sudden, she hears a familiar voice calling her name. She flinches, her mind’s in total confusion. She doesn’t want anyone to see her in this state—especially the owner of that familiar voice. But at the same time, she also doesn’t know whether she can really hide from that guy or not.
Should I just run? Should I just run through this rain? Or should I just stay and pretend that nothing happens? Her mind races with questions, ones that she could never answer within the given minutes.
“Found you.”
And just like that, she doesn’t get to decide on an action. Her mind was full of hesitation and supposition that made her too late to react.
The only reaction she could pull off is looking up to the boy’s eyes, behind the thick glasses he was wearing. She was too dumbstruck that she wasn’t even aware of the accumulated tears that threatened to slip out of her caramel eyes.
“Wha—I’m... sorry. Don’t cry, please...” The blond boy opens his mouth once again, his usually-absent expression is now making a full appearance.
She unconsciously blinks, making her tears fall onto her cheeks. The boy’s face grows even more concerned, quite a rare sight if she has to admit.
“I’m sorry, okay? I will never say that shit again.” He throws the umbrella that he has been holding, and leans in to embrace the smaller girl, “I'm terribly sorry, Hitoka.”
And with that, the two teenagers set up for their destination, probably Yachi’s house. They walk together hand in hand under the tall boy’s huge, yellow umbrella. After they have left, the hooded man lifts his hip up from the bus stop seat, walking towards the opposite direction.
—
What comes next is how the two of them officially meet and get to know each other.
Not Kuroo being the one who suggested her name, not Kuroo tailing after her on her way back home, and definitely not Kuroo silently witnessing her weeping under the rain. Just the encounter of the two of them, introducing themselves, and getting to know each other.
Even though Kuroo has everything about her memorized deep in his memories already.
It begins when the blond girl made a habit of visiting the cafe in front of the agency where she does her internship. Meanwhile he took up the opportunity to work as a part-timer barista at that cafe.
There are only two things that are meant to happen whenever she makes her stop at the cafe for the morning. It's either she comes with smiley face and orders a cup of caramel macchiato, or appears with dark circle under her eyes and proceeds to order iced americano with two extra shots instead.
Today is one of the wobbly days. She opens the entrance door of the cafe, tired look hanging on her face. She makes way to the cashier counter with staggering steps, looking exactly like she didn't get a blink of sleep the night before.
When she was about to open her mouth, she got interrupted by Kuroo, who happened to be handling the cashier at that time.
"Ice—" "One iced americano with two extra shots, isn't it?"
Yachi froze at her track, her tired eyes widened.
"Yes, please..."
Kuroo inputs her order on the cash register, then he rests his arms on the counter, making his figure slightly leaning forward. "That'll be 341 yen."
Yachi snapped back to her consciousness, then her hand reaches the wallet inside her bag, giving him the exact amount of money she owes.
He takes the money from her hand, his palm slightly brushing on her palm. It isn’t that soft—it’s quite sweaty if he has to admit.
“You should’ve gotten some more sleep, you know,” He said in between handling the cash. “It’s not good to rely on caffeine every single day.”
She blinks her eyes, half confused and half sleepy. She never expected that this barista guy who she’s been seeing over the counter for the past two months would actually talk to her. Over every single customers who practically begs for his contact number.
“Ah, yeah... I’ll try. Thank you for the suggestion,” she said with a smile, her tired eyes are making a shape of crescent.
Kinda reminds him of her grandma.
—
"I came in after work last night. Why aren't you around?" She asks after she gets her caramel macchiato order. It's the lunch break and it's also the end of Kuroo's shift. So here they are, chatting their noon away in the area in front of the cafe.
"I always have morning shifts," he says while his hands reach for the cigarette pack in his back pocket. "Mind if I smoke?"
She nods her head, not minding his action. She proceeds to ask some more question instead, "Why don't you pick the night shift? Isn't it hard to wake up so early?"
He blows out some smoke, eyes wandering off into nothingness. Flashes of his repeated life are running in his mind.
"It's... Because I fear the stars."
Much to Yachi's and his own disbelief, Kuroo chose to answer the question honestly.
An awkward silence comes upon them. For an instance, he blames it all on himself and tried to fix it by coming up with a joke, but he's a second too late to Yachi's follow up question.
“Why do you fear the stars?” The blond girl in front of him asks, lips sipping her favorite caramel macchiato comfortably.
He freezes at his seat, but quickly regains his composure, “It... reminds me of someone.”
“Ah, I see... They must be a really important person...” She states, the feeling of guilt and sorry are apparent on her face.
He chuckles, sounding quite awkwardly on his own ear, but perfectly natural on other’s, “Of course. She means the world to me.”
The girl nods her head, she shifts the gaze towards the window—trying hard to not meet his gaze. There’s something else on her guilty expression, her eyes are filled with... jealousy.
He laughs and then thinks to himself. There’s no need to be jealous of your own self, dear.
Because it’s you who the stars are reminding me of.
Because it’s you who means the world to me.
It's always you.
—
“I... will hold my wedding next week,” she said over that phone call, sounding really nervous. “Can you come?”
He smiles to himself in a bitter manner. “Of course. As long as it isn’t at night.”
She sighs in disbelief of what she just heard. “It’ll be held at 7 PM. Surely it’s not quite late?” she asks, fully sounding like she’s containing her anger.
“You know I don’t go out past 6 PM, Yachi.”
“Even for my wedding?”
He pauses for a moment, the silence almost suffocated her.
Yes. Especially for your wedding.
He may have lived this life for dozens of time already, but the only time he could bear witness of her wedding ceremonial is, indeed, in his first life.
“Look—“ he tries to form a coherent sentence, but got interrupted right after. “No. It’s okay, Kuroo-san.”
“I’m really sorry for forcing this on you. I don’t even know what you went through all this time yet I still push it on you,” she says them in a rigid tone. The tone you’ll hear whenever she tries to sound like she’s cool with everything when in fact, she’s not.
“But honestly it’s because you don’t even tell me. I’m not blaming you—I know we barely know each other aside from our little rendezvous at the cafe, but I really see you as a... dear friend.”
Even more than that, truthfully, she thought.
He’s still engulfed by silence, trying to hear more of her disappointment in him.
“So I hope you can be more honest with how you feel.” She halts, taking a deep breath before continuing, “And I wish you a happy life, with or without her.”
The call ends, together with their little bond in this current life.
—
Kuroo enters a flower shop, the delightful fragrance of various flowers greet his sense of smell nicely. He walks to the cashier counter, opening his mouth to voice his order but got interrupted by the employee instead.
“A bouquet of sunflower, I assume?”
A grin blossomed on his face, “Put some asters in it too, please.”
The flower shop employee nods and proceeds to make his order. In the meantime, he checks out around the shop—even though he already had all the details of this shop engraved in his mind.
"Just what the hell are you doing? There's no freaking way she'd recognize you," The same inner voice from before is making its reappearance, questioning every single course of action that he took—rebounding it towards her direction.
"I didn't do this for her to recognize me," he said to himself, or his inner voice to be precise.
"It's past twenty years since the last time you met her directly in this life."
"Ah, is it? Time surely passes by quite quickly nowadays."
And yet he still remains unchanging.
“That’ll be 1600 yen, Sir.” The employee's voice broke his little conversation with his own inner voice. Kuroo strides his way back to the cashier counter where the female employee is holding his order.
Then she hands the bouquet down to Kuroo, who in the same time gives his money to her.
“You seem really fond of this flower.” The employee said, while registering the change for his 2000 yen cash.
“I don’t buy this for myself.” Kuroo responded, along with a small smile.
“Oho... Is it for your lover, perhaps?” The employee asks with a teasing smile, while her hand is handing the change.
Kuroo pauses, then a smile re-appears on his face. That same bitter-looking smile.
“No, but it’s still for the one I love, though.”
—
An old lady in her late fifties is sitting on her hospital bed, her back leaning on the inclined part of the bed while her eyes are fixated on the words written on the poetry book she’s currently holding.
“Mrs. Tsukishima, your flower delivery,” said the nurse who came to her room, bringing a huge bouquet of sunflower and aster.
Just like any other day, Yachi (or the one we recognized as Mrs. Tsukishima, as of now) got herself a flower from an unnamed sender. The message sent along with the flower always vary each day, sometimes it’s long, other times it consisted of only one word. But there will always be at least one sunflower in those bouquet.
Today, the message written on the envelope is a sentence that brings back memories of a certain someone.
You should’ve gotten some more sleep.
“I’m sorry, but do you know who has been delivering all these flowers?” She asks the nurse while she was busy checking on her status.
“Oh, these flowers? I’m not quite sure about any other day, but I think I saw a tall man with jet black hair came in with this bouquet a while ago.” The nurse said while playing out the recent scene on her head. “He has peculiar hair, though. It looks like a rooster’s but weirdly enough, he still looks good in it.”
Yachi pauses, her aging mind works really hard in its attempt to remember that said person.
“How old does he look like?” Yachi asks the nurse again, trying to find the missing piece she needs.
“Around mid 20s, I guess? I didn’t really catch his figure up close, though,” she said while finishing the status record for the day. “Is he someone you know?”
Yachi thinks to herself. Somehow she could quite catch who that person exactly is, but at the same time she’s also not quite sure about it.
“Hm... Maybe? Could you please tell me to give the flower directly to me the next time he comes?”
The nurse nods dutifully, a smile is reserved on her face.
But he never comes. Neither does the flower ever again.
—
Today, Tsukishima household is grieving. They hold a funeral for their most beloved grandmother—Tsukishima Hitoka. Even though she had been left a year ago by her dear husband while she was battling her own disease, she stayed strong and resilient for the longest time ever.
Today is the time she finally let go and rest the rest of her life. And today is the—I don’t know, eleventh? twelfth?—time Kuroo witnesses this funeral.
He may have experienced this for dozen of times already, but he still can’t shake off the sadness in his heart.
When all the guests had paid their respect to Mrs. Tsukishima, Kuroo approaches her casket and kneels down.
“I’m sorry,” he pauses for a second, “For always not telling you the way I really feel.”
Silence. Tears are slowly accumulating on his eyelids.
“I tried, you know. I tried so many times that I’ve lost count—whether it’s in this life, the one before, or even before the one before.” His hand shrugs away those tears before they could land on his cheeks, “But I can’t. Nothing changed. We’re still nothing. And now I’m tired to even try.”
He feels like the picture of smiling Yachi in front of him is boring her gaze through his skull, exposing the core of this fragile man.
“Pathetic, aren’t I? Even God despises me. He won’t even throw me to Hell—he made me live out this life over and over again instead.”
Kuroo rises from his position, then he puts a flower over the casket.
“I’m sorry... And goodbye... See you on your next life.”
—
“Sir!” A voice called out to him, making Kuroo turns his head. A guy in her black formal suit is heading towards him, waving his right hand. There’s something he holds on his waving hand.
“Are you talking to me?” Kuroo asks when the guy has stopped in front of him. He catches his breath, then he hands Kuroo the letter he’s been holding for a while.
Kuroo blinks, no one ever handed him a letter after her funeral for the past eleven lives.
“You’re the guy who delivers flowers to my mother, right? She told me to give this letter to you.”
Kuroo blinks again, this time in even more disbelief. His hand reaches out to the letter, taking it from that guy’s hand. Then, the latter said goodbye to him after Kuroo offered him yet another condolences.
Kuroo is now sitting on a bench near the funeral site. The neatly folded paper is now wide opened in his palm.
Dear, my dear. I know it’s weird coming from a widow like me, but you are indeed one of the few people I hold dear in my heart.
You’re Kuroo-san, right?
The one who brought me flowers. The one who sent me letters. The one who remembered all my coffee orders. The one who saw me crying under the rain. The one who accompanied me on my way back home.
The one who gave me this name.
It’s you, right? I knew it all along. I always knew.
But I don’t know why our paths are never align. When I’m sure that you have already walked those paths, again and again, right?
If so, please allow me to make an egoistic request, then.
Would you be so kind to come to me again on my next life? And please be honest with the way you feel this time.
I'm sure we can work our way out together.
The reason behind your fear of the stars,
Yachi Hitoka.
He grips hard on that beautifully handwritten letter, making it crumpled under his touch. The tears that he has been containing for the past eleven lifes are coming out from his eyes like a waterfall. He did it.
He finally did it.
And now he's crying like there's no tomorrow—a thing that he no longer longs for to come.
"I promise you, Hitoka," he says in between the sniffles. "That I will no longer be afraid of the stars."
Because it's no longer impossible for me to reach them.