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The leaves crunch under their feet as they make their way through the woods coming back from Haruki’s high school on a cozy spring day. It’s only high school and it’s a Tuesday. Haruki doesn’t think he needs a bodyguard for such a mundane day. He is more than used to being by himself.
Murata-sensei doesn’t seem to care.
“Perhaps a bored youkai will pick this boring day to make a meal out of you and who could blame them?” He’d countered, easily, stretching his hind paws “Better let them know I’m first in line.”
Haruki had scrunched up his nose but shrugged regardless. He’d doubled down to tie his shoelaces on the hall and Murata-sensei had crossed next to him, tail wagging lazily as he started to lead the way.
“Besides, I’m craving some cream buns, this house has no sweets. You can buy me some on the way. ”
Haruki had merely smiled crookedly and got up, backpack in hands and closing the door behind them.
He’d made sure there was enough change in his pocket to meet his Sensei’s demands.
*
Murata-sensei munches happily on his bun, perched as he is on top of Haruki’s shoulder and Haruki strolls lazily through the dirt path. No youkai had tried to eat him, and math class was as dull as always. Nothing happens on Tuesdays, his father used to say.
The days are getting warmer and Haruki already longs for the weekends he will get to spend on fishing, reading books under the shadow of willow trees. Time passes at a weird pace in this little town and Haruki is still not used to it. At least when he is out in the woods he can actually witness the change of seasons.
The wind picks up and rustles the leaves of all trees, fluffs up Haruki’s hair and swirls through the forest like a force of nature. Haruki looks up at the vast blue sky in search of nimbus clouds.
It doesn’t look like rain.
The wind whistles once again, whirlwinds to his right and brings his attention to the little clearing just beyond the line of bushes he’d never noticed before. The dirt ground on the glade looks barren, even burnt black, no sign of nature.
It feels like a secret.
Haruki slows his steps and approaches the place carefully, a curious glint in his eyes. He can feel Murata-sensei’s attention pick up, though he resolutely continues to chomp on his food without acknowledging anything. Not much fazes him, Haruki knows that much. But still, there’s a presence in the dead clearing, something made of silence and grief. Something that screams and no one hears.
It calls to him.
“Was there a fire here, Sensei?”
The cat at last jumps away from his shoulder and lands elegantly on his paws on the ashen ground, tail swaying right and left. Haruki looks around curiously at the barren area, though there’s not much to see. Whatever constituted this place, be it structurally or emotionally is long lost in time and space.
“Minami-za. Ah, yes I remember it now. It was a kabuki theater, built in the early Edo period. It was burnt to the ground decades ago, though, a terrible affair.”
Haruki hums along and looks around at the clearing trying to imagine just how the theater looked. He remembers going to the theater once. To a Rakugo performance with his grandmother, when he was too young to even understand the storytelling. He remembers thinking it entertaining, the back and forth between characters, the funny faces the performer pulled between them, the fan hiding and revealing his many façades. Mostly he remembers he loved the sound of the Shamisen. That he remembers well.
Murata-sensei circles around himself and sits on his hind paws, looking up at Haruki. He quirks an eyebrow “I heard stories that it was quite grandiose. Back when youkai and people lived together freely, this was a place of communion. They would gather on this theater and play for each other. Noh, Kabuki, just music, any type of art, really. Nothing the likes of it has existed ever since. ”
Haruki feels his heart constricting inside his chest, and he can almost see it, the life this place held together, the laughter shared, the music, the magic. A spark of it lingers in the atmosphere, he thinks, looking around at this place that refused to let the green touch it. Or maybe it’s just grief, persevering. A spot of darkness, a sanctuary.
“That’s so sad,” Haruki says and wishes he could have seen it, wishes he was around to witness those days when youkai and people lived together harmoniously. Perhaps he wouldn’t feel like he does now, a loner standing between two worlds, one foot on each side and no one beside him “Such a happy place, lost forever. And no one to mourn it.”
“ Tch,” Murata-sensei tuts acidly “Not lost, stolen.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was burnt down with purpose, Haruki. This was arson.”
Haruki frowns, fingernails biting into the palm of his hands “Who would do such a thing?”
“Humans, of course.” Murata-sensei scoffs and begins to walk back towards the woods from where they came from. He calls from over his shoulder “Such envious little things, aren’t you? Can’t see anything beautiful without snatching it for yourselves or tainting it.”
Haruki thinks of the Book of Friends in his possession, and can’t refute it.
He touches the bark of a tree that still looks charred (it can’t be, not after all those years) and feels a tightness in his throat that is almost physical. The wind has died down now and the glade is just a barren glade no matter what it once was, or whatever happiness it brought to people.
Haruki lets go of the bark and walks away, following Murata-sensei without seeing. The hollowness of the place imprints in his heart and the empty feeling follows him all the way home.
*
Haruki is used to being woken up by youkai by now. He’s used to constant dark circles under his eyes and to falling asleep in the middle of geometry. He’s been aware of them his entire life, but ever since he inherited the Book of Friends, they became much more aware of him .
They come in the middle of the night, some of them angry and demanding, some of them shy and frightened. They throw rocks at his window, they rattle the thin walls and wail. Some of them will stare through the glass for so long Haruki will have no choice but to get up and give them attention so that he can finally catch a bit of sleep.
They come in all shapes and sizes, and several tones of aggravation, but they all want one thing and at the end of the day Haruki can’t really fault them. It’s the mantle he inherited, the thing only he can do. The Book of Friends gets lighter, the youkai get their freedom. Such is the destiny entwined with Haruki’s.
He is still teetering the whimsical limbo between consciousness and sleep when he hears it, a sound he hasn’t heard in a very long time. The strings twangle dramatically, a lament, a plea. Haruki wakes up with a start, raises to a sitting position, the covers falling carelessly around his frame.
The Shamisen player is sitting cross legged on his open windowsill, instrument held swiftly on his lap as he strums the strings gently. His head is bent down, all focus on his playing. Haruki can’t place his eyes, obscured as they are by his eyelashes. He feels pulled in regardless. It’s the kind of song that lodges itself deep, that pulls from the familiar. The music continues and Haruki is transported to theaters, to happiness: interrupted and to the darkest of nights, where sound but not sight can guide you back to the living.
Haruki listens, bears the brunt of it and is powerless against the tears that fall from his eyes and land on his knees. He can’t take his eyes from the stranger, can’t take his heart away from the pain it is wallowing in. So he breathes through it, lets himself be a vessel and lets the stranger’s heartbreak pour right in.
When he opens his eyes the music must have stopped for a while because the youkai has put the Shamisen down and is looking straight back at him. His eyes shine like gemstones in an ethereal way that is not human.
He is beautiful, Haruki notices somewhat disconcertedly. And flushes to the root of his hair as the thought materializes within.
“Nozomi-chan,” the youkai breathes wonderingly, “It’s been too long since I played for you.”
Haruki breathes out deflating a bit. His cheeks still feel wet. “I’m not Nozomi. My name is Haruki. Nice to meet you.”
The youkai frowns, looking him over and Haruki can feel his gaze on his skin like a caress “You look just like her. You smell just like her. You stand there and listen just like she did when I played her the Shamisen.”
Haruki flushes a little and tries to change the subject “Did she take away your name, youkai? I will give it back to you. I can do it.”
The youkai makes a dismissive movement with his hand and leans forward with an intense, evaluating gaze “If you really are not Nozomi-chan, then perhaps you could tell me where I can find her? She hasn’t visited in so long. I miss her.”
Miss her? Haruki bites the inside of his cheek. He’s heard youkai admitting they feared her, or that they hated her. He’s never met one who’s said they’d missed her before. Haruki sees the way the youkai’s eyes travel through him, cataloguing his features and his eyes widen in understanding.
He suddenly feels terribly uncomfortable.
He averts his eyes before he manages to speak it “I’m- I’m truly sorry. But Nozomi has died. I’m her grandson. That’s why- that’s why I remind you of her.”
The youkai’s face pales abruptly “Nozomi-chan…is dead?”
Haruki nods to his knees, “That’s how I came to inherit her Book.” He looks up again with a pinch of resolve “But I can set you free, I can give you your name back. You don’t have to be chained to it anymore. To- to her.”
The youkai’s eyes darken like a storm and Haruki’s breath was stolen at the sight of it. The whole atmosphere changes, something dark and heavy spreading between them like molasses. Haruki’s hand lifts without his volition and he has to fight the urge to bodily comfort the youkai before him.
“I’m sorry-”
“You are lying.” He seethes, his voice an icy whisper.
Haruki swallows hard and shakes his head vehemently “I’m really sorry, she-”
“She wouldn’t leave me!” The storm in his eyes consumes the shine that was present there not long ago like it’s but a distant memory. Suddenly, the room starts to rattle beneath Haruki’s feet. There’s a loud sound and his wardrobe blasts open, his clothes and belongings begin to swirl around him in a whirlwind.
Haruki’s eyes widen at the wreaking havoc before him and he’s on his feet to make the youkai stop when as abruptly as it started, it stops. Everything he owns falls to his feet.
His window remains open, but the youkai is nowhere to be seen.
Haruki looks around his wrecked room with wide eyes. He knows he has to clean this mess up, but the inertia takes the better of him. The hurt in the youkai’s eyes lingers like lead, poisoning the atmosphere.
The door to his room opens and Murata-sensei enters it lazily, fur tousled on the side from sleeping. He takes one look at the room and Haruki’s situation and raises an eyebrow “Still in one piece? Good.” He then goes and turns around to where he came from nonchalantly “Wake me up if anything interesting happens.”
Haruki looks down at the mess his room finds itself in and there, just next to his bare feet lays the Book of Friends, spread wide open. A name is written there, in bold black kanji. It stares unobtrusively back at him.
*
Haruki tries his best not to fall asleep during class the next day and he is somewhat successful. No matter how sleepy he feels, thoughts of his late night encounter with the youkai keep popping in his head. His sorrowful Shamisen playing, sounds Haruki hadn’t heard in years. The moonlight bathes the creature in patches of incandescence and shadows alike. Haruki remembers the hurt in his eyes.
He looks out the window to the spread of nature that surrounds his school all the way to the woods where his other youkai friends mostly live. Haruki taps his pen against his own cheek unconsciously and wonders where the youkai from last night lives, if Haruki somehow will manage to find him again.
His thoughts are halted by loud voices coming into the otherwise empty classroom. Haruki drops his pen and inspects the incoming people. It’s one of his classmates, Take-chan aiding along a stumbling girl Haruki is pretty sure he’s seen before hanging out with him.
“I told you I’m fine, would you knock it off already?” The girl grumbles in a disgruntled way, though she lets herself be guided easily enough.
“Just a few more steps, you are doing great, Yayoi.” Take-chan encourages her, holding onto her forearms to lead her to his desk with gentle movements. His eyebrows are furrowed, though, he seems in distress.
Haruki rises to his feet to help.
Take-chan raises his eyes towards him and his face sags with relief “Haruki! So glad to see you. Would you mind opening my locker and grabbing the first aid kit?”
Haruki nods diligently and hurries to the blue lockers at the end of the classroom, ending up at the one three to the right from his. He opens it and reaches for the little white box, closes the door and goes back to the desks. Yayoi is sitting on top of a desk, Take-chan kneeling down next to her feet and gently sweeping away the black strands from her face. Haruki’s eyes widen when he notices a bruise hidden under her bangs, on her forehead. It looks feverish red and a little swollen under the abrasion.
Haruki offers the box to Take-chan who accepts it promptly and starts looking for an antiseptic. Yayoi remains silent, she seems to be sulking. Haruki frowns “Shouldn’t you guys have gone to the infirmary? That doesn’t look so good.”
Yayoi tuts her tongue at the same time Take-chan sighs. The synchronization would be funny were Haruki not feeling so worried.
“That’s what I told her. But she won’t listen to me.” Take-chan pouts, raising to his feet, antiseptic now in hands.
Yayoi frowns and winces immediately for doing so. Take-chan rushes to her side with uncertain, worried movements and she bats him away, grabbing the little bottle from his hands and spraying it to her forehead herself. Both boys wince at the same time. She doesn’t seem at all worried about it.
“And I told you I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. There’s no need to be fussing like this, geez.”
Take-chan remains unconvinced. They proceed to undergo a staring match and Haruki looks between them like he’s watching tennis. There’s no clear winner and Haruki is curious.
“What happened to you? How were you hurt like this?”
Yayoi at last drags her big blue eyes away from Take-chan, albeit reluctantly. She looks up at Haruki. She hesitates. “I’m not sure exactly. I was walking through the woods on my way to school. I heard some strange sounds, like rocks clicking together. Or something heavy banging the ground, I don’t know.” She blushes a little which makes both Haruki and Take-chan gawk a little at her. She blushes further, flustered and annoyed “I thought I saw someone. A man. He looked lost. But when I approached the place he wasn’t there, and I couldn’t see anyone else even though those noises remained. A rock flew out of nowhere and hit me.”
“That’s when I found her, clutching her head. I tried to hurry her to a hospital, the mere least an infirmary but she won’t listen to me .”
Yayoi makes a dismissive movement with her hand “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Anyway. I wanted to investigate it further but Kouji-kun was very annoying about bringing me here.”
Take-chan tuts his tongue and Yayoi sends a death glare towards him making him shut down immediately. Haruki bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from smiling.
His own curiosity piqued, Haruki shrugs his shoulders casually and offers “You can leave it to me. I will go there and investigate it.”
Take-chan moves wide, reproachful eyes directly towards him “Not you too!”
Haruki almost snickers “Don’t worry about me, Take-chan. I will be fine.” If there are youkai making a ruckus in the woods Haruki has to deal with them. He’s the only one who can. He catches Yayoi’s eyes and becomes a little more serious “I’ll keep you posted. Alright? Take care of yourself first.”
She rolls her eyes but relents “Fine. But I will demand a report later.”
Haruki bows down respectfully and goes to grab his own backpack so he can leave the classroom. Perhaps he should have brought Murata-sensei with him today. Perhaps Wednesdays can be just as eventful as Tuesdays after all. He wish he could tell his father about those discoveries.
Before Haruki leaves, he can hear Take-chan grumble out loud “You should at least wear a helmet. You know? For the sake of my peace of mind.”
Haruki chuckles all the way down the stairwells and towards the school grounds bellow it.
*
Youkai hurting humans.
It’s not that uncommon but it’s always a difficult situation. There’s a balance to be maintained, a peace to be upheld between realms. Haruki has tried his best so far to avoid conflict and resolve most issues in a peaceful way. He thinks he has managed tonsi far, but it's only so far. This Book, this life, this path he’s taken…they don’t come with a manual.
Haruki makes an exit from the school grounds and walks towards the woods. The distance between himself and the world he’d never belonged to becoming larger by the minute.
He wonders for how long he will manage to deal with the youkai in a peaceful manner. He wonders what will happen to him when his approach is not enough to resolve the problems around here anymore.
Youkai hurting humans. Humans hurting nature. Nature hurting youkais.
Haruki holds on tighter to the shoulder strap of his backpack and picks up his pace as the woods grow more imponent around him and the noises of people fade to nothing but a whisper. His backpack feels heavy, the Book of Friends weighing him down.
Humans hurting youkais. At least this is a sin Haruki can dedicate himself to atone for. That feels like something he should be good for. A lifetime for this.
“Going my way?” Haruki startles at the sound and the woods seem immediately taller around him. He thought he was alone. He must have been more scatter brained than he’d realized. Murata-sensei is laying on top of a tree branch, lazily looking down on him.
Haruki puts a hand to his chest and sighs in relief at the sight of him “Murata-sensei! I didn’t know you were around here today.”
The cat stretches before hopping off the tree and landing on the grass in front of him “Hmm, I woke up today and just knew you would be up to mischief. Call it a hunch if you will.”
Haruki says nothing and the silence stretches on for a second or two. Murata-sensei looks up to him with a raised eyebrow “So now you are going after youkai without me? Please don’t spare my feelings or anything.”
Haruki feels chastised like a little kid “I’m sorry, Murata-sensei. I didn’t mean to burden you.”
“You are human, you burden me all the time. Especially when you wander off after youkai without me as your bodyguard. The Book of Friends won’t belong to me if someone else eats you first. I thought we'd already been through this.”
Haruki looks out to the horizon, to the trees that sway gently in the easy breeze “I know, I know. Only get eaten if Murata-sensei is there to profit from it.”
Murata-sensei beams up at him “See, it wasn’t that hard, was it?”
Haruki shakes his head, and they keep on walking down the beaten earth path. It’s a beautiful day out, just like the previous day had been. While Haruki knows there are plenty of youkai living in the woods and he’s crossed paths with a few in the past, they mostly keep to themselves in the light of day. Everything feels peaceful and that’s how it’s supposed to be like. Youkai, humans and nature, communing together in harmony.
Haruki often brings a book with him to read the afternoon away under the shades of a willow tree. More than once he’d woken up to a youkai sitting down next to him, book in hand, trying to make sense of the language there written. Each time he would find himself reading aloud to the ones that gathered around him.
As it’s supposed to be. Most of the time, though, not how it ends up being “Murata sensei, have you ever heard of a youkai that throws rocks at passersby?
Murata-sensei hums under his breath, his tail twitching “Can’t recall that charming little quirk, no. I bet he’s not from around here. Perhaps he’s a wanderer?”
“A wanderer?”
“Or a stayer. Who knows? Something might have drawn him to stop by. Like your late night caller did, wouldn’t you agree?”
Haruki blushed furiously.
“What are you even talking about, sensei?”
Murata-sensei rolls his eyes at him “Throwing all your things around. Throwing rocks at people. Call me crazy, but I see a pattern here. A youkai with anger issues, I believe.”
But Haruki remembers the hurt in the youkai’s green eyes, the bottomless grief. He doesn’t think it’s that simple.
“Well, if it’s him, this time I will give him his name back and that will fix it.”
Murata-sensei gives him a disbelieving side eye and Haruki himself is not sure of this either. But he knows he has to do something. And the only thing he can do is this.
“Whatever you say, Haruki.”
They continue on their way until Haruki listens. The sound of rocks. The sound of something clicking. He looks around and the woods look just the same now as they did five minutes ago but something in him acknowledges it as different. The mood is different.
They are at the same site they were yesterday. The dead glade. Before the wind picked up.
A rock flies by them.
Haruki notices it a second before it comes in his direction, and he catches himself just soon enough so that it flies by his ear. It smashes against a tree behind him with a loud sound that reverberates in the mostly silent atmosphere.
Murata-sensei is transformed to his original form in a second, standing guard before him. A colossal wolf, black fur, eyes that spark golden, a thousand hidden treasures buried beneath. Haruki won’t admit it, but he feels somewhat reassured by his presence. He is not a little kid, scary youkais don’t reduce him to tears anymore. It doesn’t hurt to have company, though, in times like these.
Murata-sensei growls and his voice in this form is so deep it vibrates within Haruki’s ribcage. He puts a hand to the wolf’s flank to ground himself and moves forward towards the barren glade and whatever ruckus the youkai is making beyond it.
Another rock flies by but this time Haruki is ready for it. He ducks down easily, but hears Murata-sensei’s warning growl regardless and smiles to himself. Haruki caresses his side once in reassurance and moves forward, just beyond the bushes and into the glade.
The glade, which is still barren, still dead and charred, lifeless.
Only this time there’s the presence of a youkai inside of it. Sitting smack in the middle of the glade, surrounded by stones of all shapes and sizes, his back is turned to Haruki. But Haruki recognizes him immediately, the kimono he is wearing, the broad expanse of his back. The blondness of his hair. Murata-sensei was right after all. Murata-sensei is right about most things, Haruki is constantly, obnoxiously reminded of this fact. His heart falls regardless. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to that with the broken hearted youkai.
The youkai seems to notice him just as he’s noticed in return by Haruki. His ribcage expands as if he’s breathing in deeply. Haruki observes the shift in stance with wide eyes.
“Nozomi-chan. I can’t believe it worked.” He whispers in wonder before turning around towards Haruki.
Haruki feels his throat tighten, but he swallows it down mightily “Not Nozomi. Still just Haruki, I’m afraid.”
The youkai frowns deeply before turning his face away to hide whatever disappointment he surely is feeling. “Oh, Haruki, that’s right. Sorry about that. It’s just your scent, it throws me off.” He squares off his shoulders and squints up “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Haruki puts his hands on his pockets and looks down at the pebbles spread all around them. He kicks one, lightly to see what happens “Stories about youkais throwing rocks at people in these woods. I came here to check it out. You hurt a colleague of mine, you know.”
Something odd happens to the youkai just then. If human, Haruki would say he was blushing. But Haruki has never in his life seen a youkai blush before “That human woman? I didn’t mean to. Is- is she alright?”
“She’s fine.” Haruki shrugs. He presses on “Why did you hurt her if you didn’t mean to?”
“I was busy, I wasn’t aware there were any humans around these woods. I would apologize but she wouldn’t see me, of course. None of them do.” He finishes despondently, looking up at Haruki, that same broken look returning to his eyes.
None but me, Haruki doesn’t say.
“Busy doing what? What are all these rocks for?”
The youkai stares askance at him. Haruki holds his stare and doesn’t back down. This stalemate will lead to nowhere. Haruki wants to fix things.
Eventually the youkai sighs, a sign of giving in. His broad shoulders sag “There was a theater here, just where you are standing. I used to play my Shamisen here often. It was a home to me, much like to other youkai who loved the arts. Youkai and people used to gather here and be one together. We were never alone, back then. We never had to fear being left behind, forgotten. Of being alone. It was a sanctuary.”
Haruki listens to his tales of a far away time and his own eyes brim with tears.
The youkai continues, sullen “I thought perhaps. Perhaps if I rebuilt it, youkai and men could gather around again. And perhaps, perhaps Nozomi-chan would come back to listen to me.”
Haruki bites his lip, nodding to himself as the words sink in. He can hear the emotion in the youkai’s voice, they pierce like claws, dig in deep. These aren’t the words of a vengeful youkai, nor an angry one. He knew it from the start. He knew that youkai was not forcebly chained to the Book of Friends. No, he-
“Nozomi never took your name away from you, did she?” Haruki whispers. Everything seems crystal clear.
The youkai shakes his head, and his voice is a heartfelt undertone “No. I gave it to her. I wanted her to have it. For all the times she’d refused to leave me alone. For all the times she would listen. I wanted her to have a part of me.”
Haruki holds onto his backpack tighter. Nozomi doesn’t have anything anymore. The burden is all his. The burden of the names she’s taken by force. And the ones she didn’t, he thinks disconnectedly. The burden of grief.
Haruki tries once again, knowing it before he even speaks out it will amount to nothing “Let me give you your name back.”
The youkai looks straight at him sharply and those eyes are steel that cut sharp through him “I don’t want it. It’s the only thing, the only connection…I still have with her. I like belonging to her. Don’t take this away from me.”
The youkai turns resolutely back to the piles of rocks in front of him. Haruki looks around and within himself but finds nothing there to say. If he’s denied this, denied the chance to set youkai free. If he’s not allowed to redeem himself, there’s no point in him.
Haruki hugs himself feeling suddenly very unfit.
Without a glance back he turns to where he came from, out of the lifeless glade and into the woods that are known to him. Murata-sensei is back to cat form, laying down on the grass and poking at a dandelion, making the seeds fly haphazardly across the wind.
He greets Haruki with a bored expression “Well, that was no fun whatsoever. A bit of an anticlimax, if you ask me.”
Haruki shrugs and starts walking back towards his house in a pace the cat can follow. The understatement of the year. Haruki hasn’t felt this gloomy in a while. He misses the sense of accomplishment he gets whenever a youkai comes to him for help and Haruki is actually able to do something about it.
Murata-sensei looks at his retreating back with a frown but scoffs and begins to trot to catch up to the human “Well, look at the bright side: I’m constantly worried there won’t be a single name left in the book when you die and I inherit it. Now I don’t have to worry anymore about it.”
And Haruki doesn’t share the sentiment, but at least he can tell himself Murata-sensei won’t end up being that mad at him after all. It’s something. It’s barely anything.
*
The Shamisen wakes him up again and Haruki’s eyes open and fix on the ceiling for a moment. The moonlight enters through the open window and the shadows of the trees create interesting shapes that dance before his eyes.
He knows the sound before he’s even in the realm of the living, but the concept is disconnected, perhaps because he told himself to forget all about it. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could help with. A failure through and through.
The Shamisen sings otherwise.
Haruki listens to it attentively and without moving an inch. He lets the notes wash over him, lets himself bathe in the sound. If nothing else, he can be vessel, spectator. It might amount to little but it’s more than nothing.
The notes dance amidst the shadows on the ceiling, intricate gentle things that take by the hand and swing round and round. Haruki watches and listens intently, heart free and vacant. The youkai keeps playing on, to his own heart’s content. It sounds lovely. It’s the most beautiful thing. Haruki absorbs it all.
Eventually it ends, releases its grip on him and Haruki lets out the breath he was holding in, feeling disoriented. This part right here he has no experience in.
He busies himself with breathing out and in. The shadows still dance, but now to no music. Everything is still but the air vibrating through trees, inside lungs and the very atoms that tell Haruki the youkai is still there, though very much not saying anything.
He listens.
“Thank you.” The youkai at last says.
Haruki raises his head from the pillow and looks up at him. Sitting cross legged on his windowsill yet again. The Shamisen held like a shield in front of him. Haruki waits for a proper cue.
“You know. For listening. Nobody listens, not for a long time. Not since Nozomi. You have no idea how much I needed just this.”
Haruki shrugs, feeling small “It’s no big deal.”
The youkai inclines his head “Isn’t it? If no one is here to witness, are we actually still here? I think I was about to disappear.”
Haruki squirmed on top of his sheets, feeling somewhat self-conscious. He offers “You know, I could witness you. I wouldn’t let you disappear.”
The youkai hovers just a little closer on the windowsill, like he wants to come in. Haruki awaits with baited breath. The youkai merely puts the Shamisen down on the floor and readjusts himself on the windowsill. He looks intently back at Haruki, eyes piercing “Would you do that for me? Would you really? “
Haruki bites his lip and weighs his bargain inside his mind before turning it into speech “Let me give you your name back. It’s not right for either Nozomi or me to keep it. You are supposed to be free, a youkai shouldn’t be tethered to anything.”
The youkai’s eyes widen in fear so Haruki rushes to finish it “I will give it back to you. And I promise to listen to your music any time you need me to. For as long as you need me.”
The youkai’s mouth drops open, green eyes whisking away the shine of the moonlight and burning bright jade green “You promise?”
“I promise. For as long as I can. For as long as you need me.”
The youkai seems to take a moment to mull things over, but his eyes speak volumes, and they are as bright as the constellation above them. And suddenly their focus is all on Haruki.
“You really do look just like her.”
Haruki blushes. He knows that. All the youkai whose names were bound in her Book have made sure to tell him that plenty of times, in raging voices demanding revenge or in meek whispers, begging for forgiveness.
It sounds different coming from this youkai’s lips.
Haruki opens the Book of Friends between them and lets magic find its way towards the name to be retrieved. The pages fly wildly, as if caught in a hurricane until they rest onto the proper page, bold dark letters, a name and its designated freedom. A gift and a curse.
Haruki looks up into the youkai’s eyes one last time for confirmation. Freedom as a gift should be a given. It has always been so. But with this youkai, for the first time Haruki has found doubt in what was once a solid foundation. He needs to be sure.
The youkai senses his silent question and smiles. Haruki’s heart skips a beat. It’s enough.
He gathers the piece of paper with the youkai’s name on his hands and touches it to his lips, breathes on it once, open mouth. Haruki inhales deeply and blows on the paper with everything he’s got. The ink detaches from cellulose and breaks free from its bindings and into nothingness. Each and every chain is broken and taken away with the wind.
The youkai stares at him, chest heaving, wide eyes. It must be scary to be free. That weightless feeling. Haruki smiles encouragingly and knows with absolute certainty this youkai’s music will always live in his heart “Play your song for me. Akihiko.”