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[we were eight.]
We were eight, and you were in the hospital.
I came to visit you.
“Hinata-chan?”
“Komaeda-kun! Are you okay?” I ran to your bedside. You looked sickly and pale. My mother was standing in the back of the room, crying quietly.
“I’m okay,” you lied. “Where are my parents?”
My mom walked up to your bed, her face twisted in grief. “I…Komaeda-kun, I’m so sorry…”
“Where are my parents?” you asked again.
“They’re dead, Komaeda…” my mother whispered. You were silent for a moment, before bursting into tears, rocking back and forth.
“It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault…”
I hugged you, hoping to relieve some of your stress. You hugged me back, your body shaking.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I said, desperately hoping it was true.
“Komaeda-kun?” said my mother. “I don’t want you to have to go into the foster system, so if you’re okay with it, there’s a family that wants to adopt you. They’re waiting outside, would you like to meet them?”
“I’ll just hurt them,” you mumbled, “just like Kaa-san and Tou-san…”
“No you won’t!” I said, squeezing your hand. “That wasn’t your fault, Komaeda! I promise!”
You looked at me, a mixture of fear and gratitude in your eyes. You took a deep, shaky inhale, and nodded.
“Okay, I’ll meet them.”
We were eight, and I was talking with my mom.
“Komaeda lives just across the street now,” she said.
“Really? No way! We can be best friends now!”
She laughed. “Aren’t you already best friends?”
“Yea-ah, but now he lives across the street! We can be even bester best friends!”
“Alright then.”
We were eight, and you were over at my house.
“How do you like your new family?” I asked.
“They’re nice,” you replied. “Chiaki has to share a room with me, but she says she doesn’t mind.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“Yeah,” you replied.
I didn’t like the thick, awkward silence between us.
“Hey, do you want to play chess?”
Your eyes lit up. “Okay! Can I be white?”
I giggled. “Just like your hair.” I rubbed the soft, curly floof for added impact. You smiled.
“Just like my hair,” you agreed.
We played chess until you had to go home.
We were eight, and it was raining.
“Ugh, I forgot an umbrella,” you complained.
“So did I.”
You and I looked at each other, and then ran away from under cover of the big tree in the schoolyard. We danced around in the rain, singing American pop songs that we heard on the radio, and got soaking wet. When your new father came to pick us up, he complained about how wet we were.
“Did you fall in the ocean or something?” asked Nanami-san. You and I shared a look, and then burst out into giggles.
[we were nine.]
We were nine, and we were attending my mom’s wedding.
She was getting married to a nice man named Naegi Kenjiro, and I was about to gain two new stepsiblings, Naegi Makoto and Naegi Komaru. You and your adoptive family, the Nanamis, were here.
I waved across the aisle at you and Nanami-chan, and the two of you waved back. My mom walked down in her beautiful wedding dress, and I was awed. Her and Naegi-san said their vows, and they were married.
At the reception, I hung out with Komaru, Makoto, Nanami-chan, and you. We chased each other, stuck our hair in the chocolate fountain, goofed around in general. Eventually, Nanami-chan and the Naegis broke off from us. They were still energetic, while you and I were on an extreme sugar crash.
“Your mom looks really happy,” you remarked.
“Well, now she gets to be with Naegi-san forever. Of course she’s happy.”
“I want to be with you forever, should we get married?” you joked. We laughed and laughed.
We were nine, and I wasn’t a girl.
My mom and stepfamily were fine with it. My mom had been born a boy, apparently, so she understood. I picked out a new name, cut my hair, and bought some boy clothes. I was really really happy, until I realized that I’d have to tell you.
My mom said that some people didn’t like people like me, people who had been born one gender but wanted to be another. I was worried that you wouldn’t like me anymore.
“Oh, so you’re really a boy, then?” you asked. I nodded nervously. “That means I need to call you Hinata-kun then, not Hinata-chan, right?”
“Um, yeah,” I said.
“Okay! Awesome! It’s a good thing you’re a boy anyway, cuz girls have cooties.”
“Does that mean Nanami-chan has cooties?”
“She’s my sister, she can’t have cooties!”
Our conversation descended into meaningless nonsense, and you never called me Hinata-chan again.
[we were ten]
We were ten, and we were attending a funeral for your dog.
It was you, me, and Nanami-chan.
“Goodbye, Whisper,” you said, laying a flower on her grave. “You were such a good dog.”
You cried into my shoulder, and Nanami-chan got you a glass of water. I tried to comfort you the best that I could.
“It’s my fault…”
“No it’s not! It was an accident, you couldn’t have known.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
We were ten, and we were watching a show.
Suddenly, two of the boy characters told each other that they liked each other, and they kissed.
“Wait, boys can kiss?” you asked. “I didn’t know that! That’s so cool!”
“Yeah, that’s awesome! I wanna kiss a boy now!” I shouted.
The show moved on, but my mind stayed stuck on that thought.
Boys kissing boys.
Who would’ve thought?
[we were eleven]
We were eleven, and you liked boys.
You told me as much one day. “I have a crush on Kuzuryuu-kun,” you said.
“Oh, cool! I have a crush on Kuzuryuu-chan,” I replied.
And that was the end of it.
We were eleven, and we were just friends.
“You and Komaeda are dating, right?” asked Komaru. I snorted.
“No we’re not. We’re too young to be dating.”
“But you hold hands, just like Tou-san and Kaa-chan do!”
“You hold hands with Makoto, are you and Makoto dating?”
Komaru wrinkled her nose. “Ewwwww!”
[we were twelve]
We were twelve, and I wasn’t alone.
In my head, I mean. I’d been hearing voices for some time now, but I thought those were just, yknow, my thoughts. Then, one night, I blacked out. When I woke up, my math homework was done and the name signed read Kamukura Izuru.
“Kamukura Izuru?” I said out loud.
You called? said somebody in my brain.
“Who are you?”
I’m Kamukura Izuru.
“Well I know that, but who are you?”
No response.
But there was definitely somebody who wasn’t me in my body.
I asked my mom about it, and she said that could happen when there was trauma during childhood. It was called Dissociative Identity Disorder, and it meant your brain “splitting” into multiple people. She said it probably happened because of my biological father and the abuse he inflicted on me, and that the people in my brain were called headmates or alters.
Super cool.
We were twelve, and I liked guys.
“I think I have a crush on Souda-kun,” I said.
“He is really cute,” you said. “I have a crush on Pekoyama-chan.”
“So do I.”
We were twelve, and I kept finding reasons to touch you.
“Hey, Komaeda-kun, can I braid your hair?”
“Yeah, of course!”
I took longer than I needed to, just touching it.
“Ugh, I’m struggling with this kanji.”
“Can I help?”
I guided your hand, relishing the tingle of your skin on mine.
“Mioda’s music is so loud…”
“Are you overstimulated?”
I squeezed your hand, and if I kept holding it a few beats longer than Mioda’s song, well, that was nobody’s business but yours and mine.
[we were thirteen]
We were thirteen, and I was thrilled.
I ran into my house, a grin cracking my face.
“Guess who scored a date with Souda-kun?” I trilled.
Komaru looked at me in shock. “You broke up with Komaeda?”
“We were never dating in the first place!”
I ran into Makoto’s room, hoping for his support.
“I’ve got a date at six tonight,” I sang. “With Souda-kun!”
Makoto looked near tears. “You’re breaking up with Komaeda?”
I gritted my teeth. “Why do you guys keep on saying that?”
We were thirteen, and I was crying.
You held me close, listening as I sobbed.
“H-he said…he just agreed…t-to make N-Nevermind jealous!” I wailed.
“I’m sorry it went so badly,” you whispered.
For some reason, your voice soothed me more than anything else could have at the moment. Except for maybe your kiss, but I shut that thought down pretty quickly.
We were thirteen, and I told you a secret you hadn’t known I’d been keeping.
“I’m plural,” I said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I have multiple people living in my head. Some of their names are Kamukura Izuru, Noriko, Corkscrew, Noodle, and Nana. We take turns controlling the body. I just thought you should know.”
You stared at me for a moment before nodding in understanding. “Okay. Tell them to introduce themselves to me when they take over, will you?”
“It’s called fronting,” I corrected. “And I’ll pass it along. I think you and Kamukura-kun would get along pretty well.”
[we were fourteen]
We were fourteen, and I said your name.
“Nagito.”
You blushed.
“Huh?”
“I just thought, we’ve been friends since we were, like, six, right? So it’s been eight years since we became friends,” I said, my words coming out in a rush. “So I thought it was about time for me to say your given name. Nagito.”
“O-oh,” you replied. “Okay, um, H-Ha…Haj…Haji…Hinata.”
“Hey, no fair!” I said, pouting. “You gotta say my given name too! C’mon, it’s easy! Ha-ji-me, Hajime!”
“H-Ha…Haj…Haji…Hinata-kun!” You were getting more flustered by the moment, and I had to admit, it was pretty cute.
”C’mon, Nagito, say my name, Nagito.” At that point I was just straight up teasing, but I didn’t care. I liked seeing you a blushing, stuttering mess.
“Hinata-kun!”
I sighed and cupped your face in my hands, which served to make you even more flustered and yet calm you down at the same time.
“Repat after me. Ha.”
“Ha.”
“Ji.”
“Ji.”
“Me.”
“Me.”
“Now put it all together. Hajime.”
“H-Ha…Hi…Hina…Haj…Hajime!”
Then suddenly, not altogether unexpectedly, we were kissing. My lips pressed upon yours, my hands tangled in your hair. To put it simply, it was heaven.mAnd I wonder what might have happened if I hadn’t, but the fact remains that I heard footsteps, and I pulled away, terrified that Makoto or Komaru might see me at my most vulnerable.
But you took it the wrong way.
“I-I-I’m s-so—I’m s-so-o sorry, Haj—Hinata!”
“Nagito,” I whispered.
“I-I—I understand if you, if you hate me now, p-please feel free to throw me away in a dumpster or cut off my arm or—”
”Stop!” You were having a panic attack. “I’m really sorry, Nagito. I promise I don’t hate you. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”
You stopped mid-sob and took a deep breath.
“Okay, Hinata-kun.”
“Hajime,” I corrected. “For you, it’s always Hajime.”
When we were fourteen, I was in agony.
If the kiss had be heaven, then what followed had to have been hell. I loved you, and it was my greatest joy, but also my greatest source of pain.
I listened to sad songs. I cried. I moped around.
When you were around, I smiled. I pretended it was okay, and I held your hand, and I pretended it was enough. I pretended so hard that it became real.
[when we were fifteen]
When we were fifteen, you took care of me.
I was on my period, and it was the worst one yet. Komaru and Makoto were at school, Mom and Dad were at work. You had broken your arm, and used that as an excuse to stay back from school to take care of me. You did whatever you could to relieve my pain.
“Thanks, Nagi,” I murmured. “You’re an angel.” I almost believed it to be true. With your beautiful white hair that was like a halo, and your green eyes that I could get lost in forever, you were an angel, to me, at least.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” you said, laughing.
“Yes, you are,” I insisted. “You’re my angel, Nagito.”
You pulled up your hoodie to cover your face. “I’m your angel?”
”Mm-hm! My angel. Forever ‘n ever.”
It was only when I saw your blushing face that I realized that was not a very heterosexual thing to say.
We were fifteen, and there was no choice.
When you’re under mistletoe, you have to kiss, especially if your friends are around. So when you and I walked under it together—toooootally by accident on my part—I had no choice. I had to kiss you. It lasted much less longer than the one when we were fifteen, but the touch still lingered for hours later.
[we were sixteen]
We were sixteen, and I couldn’t hide it anymore.
“Nagi?”
“Yeah?”
“This is really rude and inconsiderate of me to dump this on you so suddenly, but I’ve been lying to you for too long,” I began.
“This doesn’t sound good.”
“Nagito, I—I’m—I’m in—I lo—” I couldn’t say it. It was terrifying. “I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anything or anyone in my life.”
“Oh, that’s—I—Well, yeah, same to you,” you said, “we’re best friends after all—”
“No, not like that! I—What I’m trying to say is—”
I kissed you.
And you melted into it, and it was just like when we were fourteen, except for this time, it was perfect in every way. I kissed you and you kissed me back, and we didn’t stop until we needed to breathe.
Now that I had kissed you, the words came out easily. “I love you, Nagito. I’m in love with you. You are my angel, my light, my world, and I want to be with you forever, in this life and the next.”
You looked at me, dumbfounded, before kissing me again.