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Once upon a time, there was a beautiful boy that lived in the forest. His hair was red and his eyes were a piercing gold, and he was alone. The forest residents could not remember a time before him for he was as old as the yews though he stayed as lovely and fair as the sunflowers that grew around his home. He belonged to the forest and it showed favor to him, he went as he pleased but could not leave its boundaries, he was frail yet never succumbed to illness, his simple desires were meet, and mostly, all was well.
One day the boy was led to the outskirts of the forest by a warm and soft melody he had never heard before. Surprised and curious (for all forest residents are captivated by song) the boy (slowly) climbed the highest tree he could and looked beyond. There was another boy there, dressed simply in black, a small instrument in his hand.
He sat upon a large stone, face turned towards the sun and sang.
From his perch in the tree, the forest boy watched, captivated by the raspy voice and the graceful movements of the strange boy as he played his small instrument until the sky started to turn into the deep oranges of dusk, and then he was gone, melting into the growing shadows as easily as a cat.
The next day the boy was there again and he watched.
The day after that he was there again and he watched once more.
On the fourth day, the boy stilled and put his instrument down, and looked directly at where the forest boy was hidden. "It is rude not to introduce yourself," he said
The forest boy fled to his home and spent the rest of the day listening to the songs of the sparrows.
When he went back the next day the boy wasn’t there, however, there was a small offering of roasted fish in a basket, right at the base of the tree that he like to watch from, untouched by the other forest residents for even the wild animals understood who the gift was for.
The fish were delicious and his belly was full.
The day after that the boy was back on his rock, fingers plucking deftly at the strings of his instrument
“You know, it’s fine if you don’t say anything, I like people watching too and it's nice having an audience.”
From then on the boy would talk when he visited, telling the forest boy about the beach (a lake that never ended? How strange.), about fishing, about all the instruments that he could play (a piano was sadly too large to bring), his simple life at the nearby town, how he was afraid of the big city (a town that was as big as the forest apparently), and stories of taking care of his brothers.
He learned that his name was Izuru.
If the boy didn’t play he often left gifts of fish or crabs, all cooked to perfection.
The forest boy's heart was lighter and he was happier than he had ever been, now aware of how alone he was before, he spent most of his days thinking about the easy companionship he shared with Izuru.
A wish started budding in his heart.
In this way, the warmth of summer became the crisp chill of autumn.
One day instead of awakening to gentle birdsong, the sparrows lined his room, perched everywhere they could be, making shrill cries.
Alarmed, he let himself be led to the lake in the center of his forest where he was just in time to see Izuru pulled underneath by one of the strange creatures that made its home there. (Is this where he had been fishing all this time?)
He froze in horror for he could not swim himself but he did have a trump card for he knew the beast of the lake and a way to best it, he rushed back home- lungs burning and chest heaving in exertion- to find the bridle that he had, a gift from the beasts long-dead kin…
But by the time he made it back to the lake to make the trade Izuru was dead, his body blue and cold as he dragged him from the lake's shore where he had been tossed unceremoniously by the strange dolphin-like creature.
He cried over him and the wish in his heart bloomed and the forest took notice.
He didn’t want to be alone again.
Izuru gasped as life returned to his body, his eyes clearing and taking on an unnatural purple hue as the forest worked its magic on him.
However bringing back the dead is a strange magic, and the forest was simply a forest, it was not cruel- nature is not defined so easily but trees do not have the concept of personality, the knowings of what makes a person a person.
Things had changed.
The dark-haired boy that both was and wasn't Izuru could not fish anymore, he spent his days in the forest boys' home aimlessly.
No matter how much the forest boy tried there was something missing.
Izuru kept the house tidy.
He joined him in simple games and walks.
He even learned to cook again but never fish, the dark boy was now so afraid of the water.
His cat-like grace remained but his new life now gave it a wild feral-like quality. He could sneak up on the forest boy easily and spent time chasing and hunting bugs.
When offered his small instrument (a ukulele the forest boy remembered) he could not play it, and one day in a fit of rage that the dark boy couldn’t explain he tossed it into the lake and they both wept that day.
In the mornings and if he was lucky enough and quiet enough sometimes the forest boy would catch him in song- his raspy voice halting and unsteady but still beautiful.
Not alone and yet feeling more so than ever the fair boy of the forest and the dark boy lived out their days.