Work Text:
Dear Wakatoshi,
Hey. It’s me.
I miss you.
Do you remember the first time we met, back when we were six? I had recently moved in from Hokkaido, and you were my neighbour. I would always see your father, so tall and big and like a giant back then, that I was scared to go out of the house whenever Utsui-san was there. It was a summer day back then, sweltering in the heat and I was at home, watching TV while my brother made a racket upstairs in his crib, my mother tending to him.
You knocked on the door, because then, however much taller you were than me, you were still too short to reach for the doorbell. I was the only one downstairs, and I heard you. I don’t know how I did, since the TV was blaring loudly and my eardrums were probably half gone by the time you were there.
You had jammed your finger, and when I opened the door, there you were, clutching your finger, eyes watery but not crying — like the brave person you are, you’ve never changed much since we were younger — and your finger looked so scary. It was swelling, purple and kinda black.
You’d been playing volleyball in the front yard, and both your parents weren’t at home. You told me that you were the other kid in the neighbourhood, sounding so stoic and quiet, almost as if you didn’t feel the pain at all.
When my mother came downstairs to treat your finger, I stood beside you awkwardly. I think that the TV was still on and loud, and I could hear the sound of my favourite TV show in the background.
But well, I guess I found you more interesting than the show I was watching. I stood there, watching in amazement as my mom coaxed you to let go of your finger, icing the finger. You looked tense, yet you never cried at all, not even let a single tear slip down your face at all.
I was told to distract you while my mom bandaged your finger up, and I bet my little six-year-old self wanted to leave you then and there because all you were doing was stare at me with slightly watery eyes. Even back then when your eyes were so round and innocent, they seemed to pierce right into my very soul.
Maybe I should’ve walked away back then. Then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have had to write this. I wouldn't be living this sort of life now.
But I didn’t. I stayed.
You were scary, and to my six-year-old self, someone who was around my age and yet seemed to be so much taller than me was intimidating. I had never spoken to you before today, and I didn’t know what you liked. But then you asked me whether I played volleyball, and when I said no, you cocked your head to the side in curiosity, appalled that I haven’t even heard of said sport.
Then you told me, more like declared something. “I’m going to teach you how to play volleyball,” you said. I remember those words so clearly. “The best sport in the world.”
You said that with so much passion, that even me, someone who then had no passion in life and was willing to call myself a pro TV watcher with pride, stared at you, something stirring in my heart. I wanted to try playing volleyball.
I wanted to know what your source of love was.
By the way, it's Eitaro's birthday today. It's also the day you jammed your finger.
I love you.
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