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One of the first things that Ryoji Mochizuki becomes intimately acquainted with during his short lifetime as a human is the color yellow. The scarf around his neck is a friendly, inviting shade. He likes to hold it gently, running his fingers along the soft fabric. It’s always with him, always close to him, like a dear companion. It almost envelops his being. He likes to keep it tied neatly around his neck, as if to make sure he doesn’t lose it—or himself. One end drapes over his back, watching behind him, whilst the other faces forward into his future. It keeps him warm, sedating the deep chill that he feels most of the time.
It isn’t long before he comes to understand that yellow is associated with happiness. He’s not quite sure what that is yet, but he’s excited to find out. If it’s anything like the way the scarf’s color makes him feel, he’s sure it will be worth the wait. He’s curious by nature, looking forward to experiencing all the sensations he’ll come to connect with the other colors out there. He hopes they’ll all be in a similar vein.
For Ryoji, everything truly bursts into life on the morning of November 9th. That’s when he sees the world in technicolor for the very first time.
Pink is nice. At first, he associates it with the rooftop at school. The view is always so pretty from up there, looking out over the city. He likes to head up there sometimes and take some time for himself, just to admire everything. He loves the way all the different colors melt into each other among the clouds, a beautiful sight accompanied by the backdrop of the city. As Ryoji looks out, he’s conscious of all of the places he’s yet to visit. Everywhere he hasn’t explored yet. It fills him with wonder. It makes him feel so small in the grand scheme of things. Even in the small city there are places unfamiliar to him, and it only makes him more aware of how much bigger the world is. There’s so much out there. Everything that falls under the rosy hue of the sky is an unexplored haven to him, and he can’t wait until he can see it all.
He’s thought about the possibility of making new friends, getting to run around the town with them, following in their footsteps as he comes to learn all the new places they’ve yet to show him. He’s pleased that it’s something he gets to experience so soon. There’s a pink tint overhead as he walks around Paulownia Mall, taking the occasional break to peer up at the glass ceiling and admire the view. He trails to a halt, moving to the side to make sure he’s not in anyone’s way as he cranes his neck to admire the color seeping into the mall from above.
“Ryoji?”
Minato calls out to him from where he stands a good few steps ahead of him. Ryoji glances at him out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t move from where he’s stationed. He puts on a little smile as he gazes fondly at everything above him. It takes a moment before Minato traces back over his steps to stand next to Ryoji, peering up alongside him.
“What’s got you all caught up?” Minato asks, squinting as if he’s missing something.
“Just the sky,” Ryoji replies softly. “Don’t you think it’s a lovely color?”
Minato doesn’t respond, instead opting to quietly keep staring. After a moment, he shifts his gaze from the arched ceiling of the mall to Ryoji, who then catches his eye.
“I’d even say it’s almost as pretty as you,” he tells Minato.
Ryoji revels in the fact that pink is also the color of Minato’s cheeks whenever he’s flustered. It’s one of his favorite sights. He loves the way it spreads to the tip of his nose, something reserved for whenever he feels the most embarrassed and mutters something incoherent to him in retaliation. It’s exactly what he does now, sputtering something nonsensical and looking away from Ryoji, which just makes him laugh. It’s pure and it’s light and it’s enough to make him feel like he has flowers blooming in his chest. He’s sure the petals would be a shade that’s soft and sweet, like the baby pink sakura he hopes to see so desperately when spring comes around.
The fall leaves are gorgeous, Ryoji thinks. He notices it the most during the trip to Kyoto, when he’s in an environment even more new and unfamiliar to him than Tatsumi Port Island. He watches in awe as the scenery zooms past him from where he sits next to Minato on the train, fighting against the urge to press himself into the window to get a better look outside. He recognises that Junpei laughs and says something about him from where he sits across from him, but he pays it no mind. He’s too busy focusing on the landscape outside to care.
The nice orange hue of the leaves is much more vibrant from up close. He knows that it’s nothing he hasn’t seen at home. After all, he walks past the trees on his journey into school almost every day. But it’s different in this new area when there’s more to discover, where everything feels so fresh and exciting. Once they’re all by the inn, he resists the urge to fling himself into piles of leaves and let them fall over him like a blanket, to celebrate as if he were experiencing his first snowfall. There’s something so joyful about it that he doesn’t quite understand.
He loves hearing the crunch of the leaves under his feet as he trails along the riverbank with Minato during their stay, walking backwards so he can look at both him and the equally beautiful view behind him at the same time. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off of the other boy, not wanting to seem impolite during the time they spend together. But sometimes he can’t help himself from allowing his eyes to flicker away from him for a moment, just so he can really take everything in. He enjoys watching the way that leaves occasionally fall from the trees and flutter around beside them akin to confetti, or the way they sit gracefully atop the surface of the river. It’s nice to watch them floating past, on their own little destination to who knows where.
The two of them make cheerful small talk on their return to the inn, and it has no sense of confusion or awkwardness. The words come easily when they’re together, Ryoji realises, almost too easily. Like he’s comfortable with telling Minato anything and everything. Even Minato, who usually gets everything he needs to say across in as few words as possible, is contributing to the chatter. It continues mindlessly until they’re back where they’re required to be, where both of them seem to be a little disappointed that their outing has come to an end.
“I had a really good time,” Ryoji tells Minato with a smile. “We should do this again sometime, if you’d like.”
“We should.” Minato returns the gesture, sticking by Ryoji’s side longer than he needs to.
Once they part, it’s not too long before they’re back together again. After the sun has fallen, when the moon and the twinkling stars have taken its place in the sky, Ryoji waits for Minato outside his room once again. Minato peeks out of the door to see him waiting patiently, closing it behind him as he slips into the hallway. Their footsteps are light as they creep down the stairs and through the lobby, voices hushed so they don’t alert anyone of their presence.
Ryoji holds out a packet of konpeito candy to Minato, one that he bought at the inn’s shop, and he gratefully picks at it before they head out. Ryoji shuffles it around occasionally, inspecting the color of each before popping it into his mouth, in sharp contrast to Minato who does so blindly.
The walk at night is a little different from the one they shared earlier in the day. Everything feels much more calm, and the two of them are completely alone in their shared experience of the tranquil Kyoto evening. Ryoji feels even more free than he usually does, like he’s blowing in the wind alongside all the pretty leaves, and Minato is right there accompanying him. As time passes, their idle chatter grows more excited, and Ryoji gets the idea that Minato feels a lot more alive at night. They end up nearly tripping over each other, leaning on each other for balance as they try to catch their breath from laughing so hard.
It’s a heartwarming sound, and Ryoji feels at peace as it echoes into the night.
Ryoji loves being on the school rooftop for all kinds of reasons. When he’s not admiring the view, he’s spending time with someone. He loves the company. He can’t help but enjoy the time with Minato the most, though. It’s always a pleasure when he gets to follow Minato up the stairs to eat together at lunch. The same goes for days like today, when they head up there after school before heading out together.
“So what are you up to today?” Ryoji chirps from behind Minato, peeking over his shoulder once they reach the roof.
Minato doesn’t respond immediately, instead opting to head over to a door over by the side that Ryoji’s never been through. He follows Minato mindlessly, watching intently as he fiddles with the lock on the door before pushing it open. He disappears into the room for a moment, Ryoji peering in from the outside. It’s a little dark in there, but Minato seems comfortable enough to not need to turn the light on. His movements seem practiced, like it’s something he does often.
Ryoji hears a gentle trickling of water, and before long Minato emerges from the shadow of the room, holding—
“A watering can?” Ryoji can’t contain the surprise laced in his voice.
Minato tilts his head in confusion, before walking off across the roof. “I come up here to water the plants sometimes,” he explains to Ryoji nonchalantly.
Ryoji furrows his eyebrows as he makes his way over to the planter Minato has situated himself next to. “Why?”
Minato begins a slow pour into the pot as Ryoji sits down on the bench next to him. “Someone has to. Might as well be me.”
“Do they not have any other people to do that?” Ryoji asks, inquisitive as ever.
Minato simply shrugs in response. That’s where the conversation ends, so Ryoji opts to watch the other boy as he works, dancing around the pot to make sure everything is evenly covered before moving over to the next one. His eyes land on the flowers in the pot, swaying a little in the wind, dripping with the water Minato has graciously given them. This pot in particular has different sized flowers in it, Ryoji notices. The smaller ones, hiding from plain sight, have petals that are a deep kind of purple that he’s never seen before. He rests his chin in his hands and peers closer at them, leaning down to their level.
Minato gives him an odd look as he does, putting the watering can down to focus on him. He watches Ryoji as he shuffles nearer to the flowers, to the point where his nose is almost touching them.
“You close enough?” Minato asks, a teasing lilt in his voice. He can’t help the smile that sneaks its way onto his face as Ryoji’s nose does, in fact, end up brushing against the petals when he turns to face him.
Ryoji lets out an airy laugh as Minato walks back towards him, scrunching his nose up at the feeling. “They’re just really pretty,” he says, bringing up a finger to gently swipe along one of the petals. “The color is so unique. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Minato involuntarily smiles even wider at the sight. He crouches down so his face is level with Ryoji’s, but on the opposite end of the flowerbed. They face each other, a beautiful set of flowers being the only thing in between them. The two boys smile brightly at one another, a nice little moment shared between the two of them.
Ryoji doesn’t say anything, afraid to ruin the moment, but he gets a strange feeling the closer he gets to the flowers. It’s as if he can feel traces of death deep in their roots. Not like it’s threatening to come any closer, but more like it’s been chased away. Minato must be responsible for it, considering how much time and care he must have lent to the plants. The odd feeling is immediately replaced by something calming, a symptom of Minato’s mere presence beside him.
Ryoji takes a deep breath in, revelling in the sweet smell of the flowers. It’s a little reminder that he’s alive, just like they are.
At one point, he’s not exactly sure when, Ryoji realises that he’s also in love with the absence of color as a whole. This realisation comes to him in the form of a warm swelling in his chest as he leans in towards Minato, the two of them bathing in the light of the setting sun in his room. He watches Minato as he smiles softly, fond of the way that the skin by his eyes crinkles as he does. But he doesn’t focus on that. He doesn’t even find himself lost in the sight of his lips, or the way that his tongue subtly darts over them as it sometimes does before he’s about to kiss him.
Rather, he watches his eyes themselves. Devoid of color they may be, a beautiful gray, they still sparkle in the light of the setting sun. There’s a shine in his eyes, independent of any outside source of light, one that Ryoji never really sees at any other time. He supposes (or hopes, with all of what he feels must be his heart) that it’s the happiness of the two of them being together.
Time seems to slow down as they grow ever closer. It feels like Ryoji is approaching infinity. As he moves nearer he gets lost even further in the sight, taking note of the little flecks of a darker gray around Minato’s pupils. They’re little details he can only really observe when he’s as close to Minato as he is now. And as much as he’d love it, he knows he doesn’t have the opportunity to be like this with him as much as he wants, which would ideally be something just short of forever. So he seizes the opportunity while it’s still within reaching distance, staring right into Minato’s eyes. He tries his best to retain every little detail and commit the exact shade to his memory.
His chance is short-lived, though. He watches as Minato’s eyes slip closed as they lean into one another, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like the very laws of the universe are willing it. He’s a little sad that he loses the sight he was so absorbed in, but the feeling is swiftly forgotten. He finds himself in awe of how gorgeous Minato is all of the time, even when he’s got his eyes closed expectantly like this. Ryoji loves the way his eyelashes sit, pretty and long enough to dust over his cheek. He thinks it might be an odd thing to be drawn to, but he takes no shame in the fact that he loves every part of Minato.
Ryoji revels in the feeling of their lips pressing together, as he does every time. Minato’s lips are a little chapped, but they’re still unbelievably soft against his own. He hums happily, bringing a hand up to cup Minato’s cheek. He makes a muffled little groan in response, to which Ryoji opts to stroke his thumb against his cheekbone. He lets his eyes close in a mirror of Minato’s earlier action, depriving himself of his vision for a moment to fully indulge himself in the feeling of the kiss.
It only lasts for a fleeting moment before they both pull away from each other at the same time. Eyes flutter open again. While Ryoji’s are open wide again in an instant, Minato takes his time bringing himself back to the present. They open almost sleepily, like he had just woken up from a good nap. Ryoji loves the sheepish smile he wears as he casts his eyes to the floor. He really loves the pink that creeps up onto Minato’s cheeks.
“Hey, look at me,” Ryoji tells him, voice soft and breathy. He uses the hand that’s still on his cheek to tilt his face slightly, up and to the side, until their eyes meet again. And it’s such a breathtaking sight.
There’s a haze in Minato’s eyes this time, Ryoji notices, like they’re glazed over with something. He can almost feel everything that Minato is feeling just from looking into them.
He supposes, he hopes, he prays, that it’s love.
After a while, Ryoji learns that his favorite color is blue.
As he rides the monorail on the way to school in the mornings, he watches the waves rippling below him intently. He loves the way the morning sun shines off of the surface of the sea, creating a beautifully bright reflection. It’s almost like the warmth of the sun bounces off of the water, refracting right into his chest. It’s a nice sight, but somehow the feeling it instills in him is even more pleasant. It’s easy for him to get lost as he watches the waves, sometimes so much so that he almost misses his stop. It’s entrancing, as if the sea is trying to pull him in from where he stands so high above it.
Sometimes it takes a call from someone else to grab his attention. Junpei will call out to him loudly, dragging him back to reality with a shock. They’ll both laugh about it before they get off the monorail and walk into school together. Some people might just give him a weird look.
Minato is a little different. He’ll wander up close to him and look out of the window too, both of them holding onto the handles above them for balance. He won’t say much, but he’ll bump their shoulders together to get Ryoji’s attention once they’re nearing their stop. And Ryoji might bump back, even if he doesn’t look away from the shimmering ocean, just to let Minato know that he’s aware of his presence. A wordless communication—which has become commonplace between them—that he doesn’t want to abandon the view just yet. Just a little longer, Ryoji silently pleads, and Minato always understands. They’ll turn away at the last possible moment, and Ryoji will be left savoring the sight with bright blue still fresh in his mind.
He gets to admire the morning sky on the walk into school as well. He loves the colors of the sunrise and the sunset, the oranges and pinks that stretch on for miles, but there’s something about the sky in the morning that’s just not the same as any other time. It’s a different kind of blue, but that might be part of the reason he likes the color so much. It’s so versatile, and it encompasses so much natural beauty. The sky is so vast above him, promising endless possibilities for the future. It’s an exciting reminder for him to look forward to all of the things he’s yet to experience and learn and come to understand, of the life he has ahead of him.
Blue is also the color he sees behind his eyes at night when he tries to sleep. This one in particular is a darker shade than the sky, more akin to the ocean, something that he might have compared to midnight. It’s something that he can feel.
It’s the feeling of Minato’s mattress underneath the two of them as he cards his hands through unexpectedly soft strands of hair. It’s him gently scratching Minato’s scalp and seeing him just barely lean into the touch. It’s how Minato leans against Ryoji as he lies down, his back to Ryoji’s front, staring up at him from where he lays between his legs.
It’s the feeling of endless confessions bubbling up inside of Ryoji and getting caught in his throat, afraid he’ll say something wrong. Something too much, even though he’s already voiced how he feels about Minato, who knows and feels it all exactly the same. It’s the feeling of his heart swelling when Minato’s hair falls into his eyes as he looks up at him, when he gets to brush it away tenderly.
Silently, Minato reaches a hand up to lazily take hold of Ryoji’s wrist. Ryoji’s eyes widen in surprise.
“This is nice,” Minato says, traces of tiredness evident in his voice. It’s very quiet, coming out as just a murmur, as if the words weren’t meant for Ryoji. He pretends he doesn’t hear it. Minato’s eyes drift closed, as if he’s about to fall asleep in Ryoji’s lap. He lets Minato drag his hand back up to the top of his head, where he resumes playing with his hair, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest. Minato’s weight feels heavy against him in a way that’s comforting, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wraps an arm around Minato’s middle, just to pull him the tiniest bit closer and let the other boy cuddle into him.
From what he’s learnt, blue is meant to be a sad color. That doesn’t really make sense to Ryoji. To him, it’s only ever been what must be happiness.
He’s not sure how he feels about red. Part of him thinks it’s a very pretty color. It’s strangely alluring, for some reason he doesn’t quite understand. But it’s also unpleasant. Unnerving, almost frightening with the way it makes his stomach twist with discontent at times.
It’s an alarming discovery. It comes in the form of a Sunday evening with Minato after the sun has set, alone together in his room. They lounge on his bed, mindlessly enjoying their time with each other. Fingers intertwined, legs tangled together, stray kisses shared every now and then.
Minato moves to shrug his jacket off at one point, and Ryoji misses his weight against him for that short moment. He’s a little surprised to see him wearing a short-sleeved shirt underneath, but it means that he gets to silently admire the exposed skin. Once Minato has slung the extra layer off somewhere and settles back down, Ryoji moves in to grab his hand and place a kiss against his knuckles. As he does, Minato’s sleeve shifts, and he catches a glimpse of something just barely poking out from underneath.
Ryoji pulls away from his skin, enough to get a proper look at the cuts adorning his upper arm. Somewhat faded but an angry, ugly red nevertheless. They look like he’s been slashed at.
“How’d this happen?” he asks innocently, peering up at Minato with a frown.
Minato just stares at him for a moment. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to respond, then closes it dumbly. It’s from where a Shadow almost sliced right through him the other day. But Ryoji wouldn’t understand.
“Minato?” Ryoji urges, desperation hidden behind his soft tone.
“It’s not like that,” Minato tells him, quiet and almost a little sad.
It doesn’t help that Ryoji doesn’t know what it is like in the first place. What it’s meant to be. What Minato thinks he must be thinking to respond like that. His brain is filled with a fog that clouds reason and rationality, causing him to ache through the fact that Minato has been hurt. He knows that it’s pretty much inevitable, that he can’t stop Minato from sustaining any kind of pain whether physical or mental, but it still hurts him in a way that it probably shouldn’t.
The thought of him bleeding red makes his stomach churn.
“Ryoji,” Minato calls, concern evident on his face, and Ryoji is back in his room again rather than lost in his own head.
He frowns. “Sorry,” he replies, voice small. “I just–”
“I know,” Minato interrupts, reaching a hand out to cup his cheek. “You don’t like to see me hurting.”
Ryoji gives a little nod.
Minato knows that a Diarama won’t heal everything, and he’s alright with bearing the marks of that. He has enough of them on his body already, and Ryoji might come to learn the stories of them all eventually, even the ones that aren’t as nice. But he can’t exactly tell him that right now.
“I’m alright,” Minato reassures him. “It was an accident. Doesn’t really hurt anymore.” That’s the easiest explanation he can offer without having to elaborate on the Dark Hour, he decides. He casually prods two fingers over the slashes as if to prove his point, in a way that would dig into the wounds if they were still open, but it still makes Ryoji wince like he’s experiencing some kind of phantom pain himself.
“That’s good then,” Ryoji responds, but the tone of his voice betrays the sentiment. It’s a little hollow. It doesn’t hurt Minato anymore, but at one point it did, and Ryoji feels his shell cracking at the thought.
Minato smiles at him sadly. Ryoji cautiously moves his own hand up to Minato’s arm, mimicking his earlier action. He’s almost scared that it will start weeping red if he touches it. The skin is raised and feels harsh to the touch. Minato has no reaction at all. Any pain he actually is feeling must be hidden well. A practiced art. Ryoji must be taking most of it from him, soaking it up like a sponge through whatever transcendental connection they share.
He’s sure there are many other pretty things out there that are red. But there’s a morbid part of him, one that feels strange and foreign and not like himself at all, that will only see Minato’s spilled blood in it. It horrifies him.
The moon hasn’t been the same recently.
Ryoji would know. He spends his nights admiring it, alongside the stars around it. He loves mapping out the patterns of the stars, drawing lines between them and learning the different constellations. His future is written in them, he’s sure. On top of that, he loves noting the way the moon changes slightly every night, admiring the way it thins out before it slowly starts to grow fuller again. It’s getting closer to a full moon. Part of him feels excited to see it in all of its glory. He would have indulged in it more, but things are starting to feel a little off.
There’s an unusual glow in the sky now. He doesn’t know if it’s something around the moon, or if it’s emanating from the body itself. It’s a bright yellow that unsettles him deeply, enough for him to be able to feel it in his bones if he looks up at it for too long. Unaware of what he’s doing, he reaches a hand up to the scarf wrapped around his neck, pulling it taut until he feels it brushing against his skin. He’s learnt that he likes to hide his face in it when he’s not feeling the best—not by his own observation, of course, but through one time when Minato pointed it out to him. It’s an unconscious act, it always has been, one that he’s seemingly always done to bring himself solace when he needs it most.
As he stares up at everything that looms above him, as he tries his best to ignore the unpleasantness that seeps into his skin, he thinks about his scarf. It’s always been with him, for as long as he can remember, but he can’t remember how he got it. It’s shrouded in mystery, there’s no who or where or why attached to it, but it’s still precious to him. The comfort it provides has never once left him. He feels it in the warm yellow, an attempt to engulf everything that threatens to upset him, swallow it up and make it disappear. That yellow is up in the sky too, in the moon. But it promotes a different feeling than the one his scarf does. He can’t place why.
He comes to understand those feelings a little better when he notices the sky changing too.
It’s started going green at night. He knows that isn’t right. It shouldn’t be right. But against all odds, he watches the sky twist and morph into the unusual shade.
And Ryoji likes green. Green is a color that he’s begun to link inextricably with life itself, and it usually sends a little thrill through his entire being. He’s found himself living alongside so much flora that grows and spreads around him, with life flowing through stems and leaves everywhere. Even though it’s approaching winter, the little plants are still fighting. He sees it almost everywhere he goes, in one way or another. He can’t help but notice the stray flowers that bloom on the roadsides as he walks around town, seemingly out of place but making their way just fine. It’s a beautiful thing, really.
He even sees it in the mundane. The jungle gym at the shrine, the carpet of Iwatodai Dorm, the tiles lining the monorail stations. Memories tied to all the different experiences he’s had, and reminders of all the places he’s yet to go.
But the sky glowing green at night feels too eerie. It’s scary. It’s not right, and when it’s paired with the glow of the moon that’s just slightly too bright, he doesn’t feel right at all. He clutches tightly at his scarf, waiting for its warmth to flow into him and soothe him.
He wants to tell Minato about it. He knows that he would listen to him, find a way to comfort him and ease all of his nerves as if it were the very reason for his existence. Calm him through his gentle, grounding touches and his soft voice. But he can’t quite bring himself to do it, for whatever reason.
At least, Ryoji thinks, it only lasts for a little while each night. When it’s over and he feels like he can breathe properly again, he’s immediately reminded of what’s to come in the morning. All the things he has to look forward to when things are lighter outside. When it’s over, when that strange green has dissipated, he’ll always look up at the sky and smile, thinking of the blue that he loves so much. It waits patiently for him every morning, beckoning him forward. And he knows Minato will always be there to greet him, pulling Ryoji along with him so they can move onwards together.