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Yuki doesn't like the quiet.
Sometimes, when Akito-san is out, he cracks the door open, and it dies down a little. It's always the same two kids bickering, always the same two bodies hitting the ground. Or walls. Whatever’s out there. The noise isn’t very loud from where Yuki’s listening (eavesdropping) in on, so he figures it's probably not a part of the estate he’s seen before, in the few walks outside he remembers going with Akito-san.
Most of the time it's just this. This strange, turbid lull all over. It’s a little suffocating—even after six years, he still hasn't gotten used to it.
It’s like this house is encased in ice. That makes sense. Or not. Maybe his body’s always just run cold. (Akito-san's too.)
.
.
.
I wonder when Akito-san’ll come back.
Haru first meets the Rat on a sunny, April afternoon. He calls out his name, and hurls venom from below the bridge in the east wing.
"You’re the person I hate the most! The Ox gets laughed at because of the Rat—it’s all your fault for being a dirty cheater! It’s your fault that people call me an idiot!”
Haru chides himself inside, but the words only continue to flow out. He'll probably just laugh at me too.
“Well, are you?”
… Huh?
“Is that really how it is? Are you really… ‘stupid’?”
…
(Don’t judge me. Don’t jump to conclusions. Don’t laugh at me.)
“No. No I’m… I’m not… I’m not stupid.”
"Okay,” Yuki had said, turning to face Haru with a gentle smile. “I believe you."
In that same cloudless spring, the same boy pulls the Ox to shore. Haru coughs up the water in his lungs, and feels a long-forgotten lightness take over.
*
The second time they meet, it's by accident—right by the door of the Rat's court.
Practice had wrapped up early, so he thought he’d go on a stroll. Before he knew it, his feet had already brought him here.
That's what he tells Yuki anyway, and it's true for the most part. Haru doesn't think the other boy needs to know just how many times he’d passed that big kiyohime, trying to retrace his steps back to this looming, off-white door. He'd have to admit to being helpless with directions (which Kyo had unnecessarily said was lame as hell), on top of the fact that he'd followed him that day in the first place. He wants to be friends, and Yuki’s first impression of him is bad as is.
He wipes away at the patches of dust staining his pants, takes a deep breath, and slowly exhales, before finally knocking. About a minute passes before the door creaks open, and he’s greeted by the famed Zodiac.
“H-Hello!”
The Rat huddles closer to the door. “It’s you… 'Ox,' was it?"
“Mm,” he exclaims in a stutter.
“... Can I help you with anything?”
The question takes Haru by surprise. Right. What is he here for? He rummages through his head for an answer, to no avail. What if he thinks I’m a creep?
“If it's Akito-san, he's not home," the other adds at Haru’s silence.
"That's not it," he finally replies, a beat too quickly. He clears his throat. “What's your name? I'm Haru,” he says, hand caught mid-air between a wave and a handshake.
“Yuki.”
Haru thinks he sees the other’s shoulders ease up faintly. "Which class are you in!"
"Uh... Four," Yuki replies with a slight upward inflection.
“Well, yeah,” Haru chuckles. “But which class? I’m in Class 2!”
“There’s only one class per grade in my school, so..."
The cogs start turning in Haru's brain (So that's how it is—he goes to a different school), and he lets out a gasp at the realization. “No wonder I never saw you around school before.”
“Mm.”
"Why's that!"
"... Akito-san said so," Yuki answers, trailing off.
Haru lets out a contemplative hum in response. "I guess."
It gets quiet after that, and Haru chides himself internally for coming up empty. I should’ve brought my manga!
“Haru! Hurry back, we’re going,” his mother calls out from a distance. Shoot.
“Um! Can I come by again?”
“Why?"
"I wanna be friends!"
For a fleeting second, Haru thinks he sees a strange expression flash on Yuki's face.
"Okay," the other finally replies.
Haru chalks it up to imagination, and beams instead. "Okay! See 'ya, Yuki!"
*
The Rat isn't very generous with his words—that much he figures soon after.
“Yuki! How’ve you been?”
“Same as always. School’s no fun. This house, too.”
Most of the time it's this, Haru recounting his day (he tries to share only the cool parts as much as possible, but sometimes it can't be helped), and asking how Yuki’s went. Yuki doesn’t say much, and his answers aren’t all that different each time. Maybe he just likes it better when it's quiet. Haru doesn't mind.
He brings in different kinds of food and toys or books from home a lot. Apparently Yuki hasn't tried Umaibo before. That's a shame. And strange. Isn't he the Rat? Haru thinks.
Sometimes, he brings his homework along. After a while Yuki's started doing it, too. They eat, play, and study together without much conversation filling the room. Haru thinks it’s nice. It’s refreshing—Yuki had taught him that word once. Yuki’s room isn't very big anyway.
There are times when Yuki asks, though—about the snacks, toys, books, and his school. Other times, when he feels like it, he’ll even tell Haru about other things himself. He likes those days a lot too.
“Wanna spar with us, Yuki? It's fun! Ah, but Kyo always gets too loud.”
“You’re just as bad as him, though.”
“Hey—”
“Akito-san won't allow it anyway. I get sick really easily.”
“Haru,” Yuki calls out. Haru whips his head up. “Have you ever been to the sea?”
He flits his gaze back to his workbook, then back at the other. “Mm. With my old man.”
“Your mother?”
“She said the smell would stick to her clothes,” Haru replies, huffing out a laugh.
“Really?”
“A little, yeah. But it’s not too bad. You never noticed, Yuki?”
Yuki offers a noncommittal hum, then says, “I don’t know—Akito-san never took me to see it before.”
Maybe Akito-san just likes other things much more, like Kaa-san. Yuki had said it so plainly, too. Still, Haru can’t help but feel a little sad.
He traces the curves of the waves, the lead barely touching the paper.
“It’s pretty far from here.” Haru clears his throat. “The one we went to. And Kazami-san says I’m not allowed to drive until I get to high school,” he adds, voice waning to a pause. “But I can take you somewhere like it! If you want. Ah, but Akito-s—”
Yuki cuts him off with a reply, leaning across the table, and lightly clasping his face. “Let's do it. Let's go right now, Haru.”
Haru lets himself blink once, then twice, before replying. “But won't you get in trouble?”
“It's still really bright out, see?” Yuki replies, motioning towards the vivid blue sky behind the sliding door ajar. He's still cupping his face.
“Okay.” Akito-san’s scary when he’s mad—who knows what could happen to Yuki? He knows better. Even so, Haru’s never seen him this lively before. He wants to keep that expression on Yuki's face for as long as he can. “Okay. Let’s not stay out for too long though, got it? I’ll go get us snacks.”
“Okay,” Yuki chuckles, finally letting go, and Haru’s out the door in the next second.
*
Haru turns around, and holds out his freehand to him. “Watch your step.”
Yuki wordlessly takes it, lifting his body off the ground with one foot, planting it square in the middle of one of the rocks, and replicating the same motion with the other. Once they make it up, Haru lets go of his hand to move the foliage aside, baring a vast, sunlit patch of green in a backdrop of gold and honey, a small, teal pond a little off-center.
Yuki more or less knows he’s making an embarrassing face right now. He’s never seen anything this beautiful before.
“It's supposed to smell like salt and nori—the sea.” Haru chuckles. “Sorry.”
“What are you saying,” Yuki says in lieu of an admonition. “Can you swim in it?”
“Kazami-san told me there's stuff like brain-eating bugs or something, so probably not.” Haru half-chuckles. “It’s not like the sea at all, huh.”
Yuki hums in response. “That’s a shame.” He cranes his neck to his left. “But it’s okay. It’s really pretty,” he adds, a slight tug at the corners of his lips.
“Right?” Haru says, meeting his eyes, and flashing a toothy grin. This one, Yuki’s already seen a lot by now, but it’s pretty too. “I found it last summer! My folks were supposed to pick me up that day, but I got bored waiting, so I wandered around for a bit until I saw that small opening we went into earlier.”
Yuki starts walking towards a spot under the tree closest to water, and Haru follows suit. “Mm.”
“It felt like running into some secret portal!”
“And stepping into another world,” Yuki chuckles, plopping down, and leaning his back against a rock.
Haru lets out a good-natured snicker, setting down their basket. “Oh, right. You know how to swim, Yuki?” He takes out two lukewarm buns, and hands one out to the other.
“Not really,” the other replies, taking a sizable chunk off his manju.
“I’ll teach you,” Haru exclaims in between bites. “I’ll take you to the real thing soon, too, you’ll see!”
“Okay,” Yuki replies, letting out an airy laugh, the buzzing still in his veins. It’s a little scary.
Can I stay here forever?
*
“I think it would've been nice if you were Kami instead, Haru,” Yuki murmurs, crouched down by the edge of the pond, his back turned to him.
“Hm?”
He’s running away. Haru had caught each syllable clearly, but what do I say to that?
“Nothing,” the other answers, craning his neck to shoot him a reassuring smile. “Let’s head back?”
“Okay.”
Sometimes Yuki wonders if there’s something living inside his ears. Or head. (Some bugs can be too big, after all.) He’s old enough to know that can’t be the case, but there’s a ringing that never seems to go away, so he keeps the thought around anyway—by the wooden pillar, under the small jade vase.
Yuki doesn’t know if he prefers it to the quiet. They’re just about the same, he thinks. It’s still a little hard to breathe.
Maybe that’s why he likes these. When Haru knocks his gentle knocks, and calls out his name just as much, it’s all he hears. Nothing laced with a strange something—just the low evenness in Haru’s voice, just Yuki’s pulse fluttering in his chest.
He’s not sure why Haru does though, for these visits to have gone on for this long. Haru’s not as loud as he was anymore, but Yuki certainly hasn’t gotten as talkative. He’s always the one giving him things too, even though Yuki’s supposed to be the Rat.
Part of him wishes the stories were true. If he were as blessed, maybe he could give Haru something worthwhile in return.
“... Haru. Don't you think it's troublesome?” Yuki sets down the zetsu he’s just finished assembling. “Always having to sneak around like this.”
“Are you telling me it bothers you,” Haru asks in turn, still working on his own, tying a knot and cutting off the excess.
“Idiot… That's not it.”
“Then I don't care,” Haru replies, looking up to face the other. “If this is what it takes to see you, I’ll keep doing it. Besides, seeing Kyo all the time can't be good for anyone.”
He says it so easily. What's with that.
“You have Rin," he mumbles as a reply.
“So?”
“I’m saying it’ll be a lot less work. Plus, you like her, right?”
“What’s that got to do with us hanging out? She tags along sometimes, too. And it’s not like I don't like you better.”
“Do you even know what I m—,” Yuki sputters. “Forget it. Get back to work," he says instead, scrambling to pick the pudding cup and string back up.
"You worry too much, Yuki,” Haru snickers, immediately complying, threading his own string to his own cup.
They continue to work in silence until their makeshift wind chime comes together, and Haru mumbles. "Without the tanzaku, it doesn't look a lot like the real deal, huh."
"That's the strip, right? With the words on it."
"Mm. It probably wouldn't be the same as hanging it on bamboo, but I think it'd be nice." Haru brings the wind chime up overhead and shakes it lightly. "Kinda like our own Tanabata," the other adds, beaming. It's a pleasant sound—like the tingling in his fingertips. Yuki vaguely wonders if it'll disappear if he reaches his hand out.
Does Haru feel it too?
"Do you have some at your house?" Yuki finally asks in lieu of a reply.
"Probably not. Kaa-san doesn't really care about festivals, and we spend most of them at my gramps anyway."
Yuki hums in response. "So you'll have to come visit."
"I won't take long, don't worry," the other replies, an amused grin creeping in.
"Who says I'm worried," he grumbles.
Haru barks out a laugh at that. "I'll bring back the prettiest ones. Any color requests?"
"It's fine. You pick."
"Alright, purple it is~"
"What."
"What," Haru asks right back, still chuckling. "It's nothing."
Yuki doesn't protest any further, save for a short garbled groan.
"What would you wish for, Yuki?"
Yuki cocks a brow at the other. "Not telling."
Haru chuckles, "I guess I'm not telling you mine either."
"Well, yeah. They wouldn't come true otherwise, right?"
Haru's expression seems to lag for a bit before melting into a lopsided smile. "Right."
I want us to be together forever.
Yuki wonders how much longer he's allowed to keep this. How much longer will Haru take the only thing he can offer? Anything less than a warm body is no good. Haru should think so—he's the warmest there is, after all—yet he accepts Yuki's company anyway. It's strange, and Yuki wants what's best for his only friend, but he can't bring himself to give this up. He's become this greedy and selfish, yet he only wants to indulge himself even more.
If he lets the wind carry his wishes, can he ask the gods to listen? Will they let him stay by Haru's side a little longer?
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… Yuki-kun, I’m sorry…” Akito clutches Yuki's body towards his by the nape, stroking the back of the younger's head along the beat of his breathing. “Akito-san’s really sorry… You’ll forgive me, won't you?” He stops and plants both hands on Yuki's shoulders. “You’ll stay with me forever, right? You're the happiest here, after all."
Akito's always had a slender, delicate frame. Once upon a time, he'd been a little gentler, too. Maybe that's why he’s still thrown off by this—this unfamiliar weight, this ripping of skin.
“Don't betray me, okay?”
“Of course,” he replies, running a hand along his god's back. There's something itching to crawl out his lungs. He likes to think it's love.
I want to embrace him (I want to run away).
Yuki pushes it down instead, counting the ridges in his spine as he daydreams—of hands under black wool, of hands cocooned in flesh, crushing bone.
He waits and waits, and when Kami's had his fill, Yuki lets his body fall onto his side. The ringing subsides, if only a little, and he presses his cheek against the cold tatami mat, dreaming up pretty pictures in the murky black paint smearing the walls.
.
.
.
“Haru,” Yuki mouths, his gaze finding the small jade vase. Will you come soon?
"Yuki!" Haru calls out in a loud whisper, knocking just as hushed.
Yuki always answers before the fourth one. It's not like he takes naps around this time either.
Haru decides to let himself in then. He grips the handle and pulls it sideways, but it doesn't budge.
"Yuki!" Haru calls out again—a little louder—hurried knocks in tow. He waits with bated breath, holding the familiar uneasiness in his chest just as tightly. He counts down the minutes, and still, an answer doesn't come. His feet move before anything else, taking small, quiet steps back. (Akito-san must've been home recently.) Haru tells his body to stop and turn back, but it doesn't listen.
I'll come back, I promise. I'm sorry, Yuki.
Haru returns the very next day to find the door still locked. The same scene plays out for almost a week. The Ox comes, and defeated he goes, chanting the same plea in his head every time.
*
On the sixth day, the door finally opens. He's walked across this room enough to know these mats by the seam, but today, Haru feels like he's walking on muddy waters. Save for the light he'd let in, it's dark all over—windows barricaded shut, splotches of black paint on the walls.
Haru spots Yuki's limp body curled up on the other side of the room, and immediately runs up to it. He puts both hands under Yuki’s side, mustering as much strength as he can to lift the other up. He walks back towards the opposite end, by the door, his insides tied up in knots. He figured Yuki couldn't have been very heavy, but the ease at which Haru carries his weight almost throws him out of balance.
Haru catches Yuki's eyes twitch right as he sets him down. He figures the light must’ve startled the other, and promptly shifts about, shielding the other from the sun. Yuki didn't feel particularly warm before, but Haru brings one hand up his forehead for good measure.
“S’not a fever,” Haru mutters to himself, exhaling in relief. He inspects Yuki's face, noting the hollowness around his eyes, and a telltale chapping at his lips. He scampers out, and comes back with water in record time.
Haru only stares, absentmindedly tapping at the glass, until Yuki cracks an eye open, staring back for a few seconds before pushing himself up. He tears his hand from the glass, moving it aside, to help the other up. Yuki's pulse reaches his palm, and Haru lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
He lets his hand linger on Yuki's back, and reaches for the glass with his freehand, offering it to the other.
Yuki stares him down again, before wordlessly taking the glass. He's always had a gentle faraway gaze, but now it only looks somewhat vacant.
Is he still half-asleep?
Yuki lies back down, staring off into space with the same look in his eyes. Haru watches this go on until the sun sets.
.
.
.
They didn't talk at all that day. That's okay. Maybe Yuki's just tired. There's still tomorrow.
*
Summer passes without a single word from Yuki.
That's okay. Haru’s never minded doing most of the talking. Visiting had gotten a little easier now, too. The dazed expression on Yuki’s face had faded as the color of ginkgo had. These days, he even looks at Haru like he recognizes him again.
It's still a little lonely sometimes. Apart from his voice, all Haru hears are the sounds of clothes—other times there's paper too—rustling, and Yuki’s breathing along with his. Sometimes he holds his own to make sure. It's a little faint, and the room's too big—Haru doesn't like the quiet all that much, after all.
But that's okay. He comes by just as much—brings food, toys, and books just as he always does.
*
"Yuki. Let's run away.”
Haru flinches at his own words, slowly gulping as he turns a page. He’s just about to play it off as a joke until a voice other than his own cuts in.
"It's okay, Haru."
He angles his body towards Yuki, and lunges forward in one fell swoop, clinging onto soft linen. The motion doesn't register to Haru until he feels a familiar, wet warmth in his eyes; jaw tense at his teeth biting down on its own. It's embarrassing and not cool at all, but there's nothing he can do—Yuki's talking again. He doesn't say anything back for a while, caught up in the sound of his name out of Yuki's mouth.
"Staying here... Isn't it painful for you?" Haru finally asks as a reply, a little muffled.
He feels a hand lightly stroke his head. "Akito-san needs me here."
"He's not even around to keep you company most of the time," Haru rebuts, sniffling, then pulling away.
"He'll be lonely when he's home," Yuki counters, flashing that same kind smile. Something in Haru feels like it's being wrung out. Yuki looked unbearably sad.
Haru wants and wants—to whisk the other boy away to some faraway land—but at the end of it, his words are just words. He can't give Yuki anything—so he doesn't say anything more. He lets out a slow exhale, reaching his hand out to rest atop Yuki's.
Haru takes a deep breath, and lays the air back out like a body. He sinks down on his knees, head hung low and hands flat on his lap. Although he’s a little better than Kyo, he’s never been very good at these things. Even so, he has to try. Maybe an adult will listen if he acts sensible and proper.
“Shigure-san, about Yu—,” Haru feels the rumble of the tatami under the older’s feet, and quickly, his hands scurry for any point of contact, finding the hem of Shigure’s haori. “I beg you, please,” he cries out, the last word skidding out his throat. “Take Yuki with you. Please, I’ll— I’ll do anything you ask m—”
He’s cut off by a faint weight over the crown of his head. “Ah,” he hears the other whine. “That's enough already. If you call me ‘Sensei’ from here on out, I’ll do it.”
He whips his head up to finally meet his eyes, inhibitions dissipating at the older's response, and hurriedly nods, choking out, “then, Sensei, plea—”
“I didn't say you had to repeat it, did I? Leave it to me," Shigure exhales, pushing himself up to make his way out.
Haru regains some of his composure before the other is out the door, blurting out, “uhm— You have my deepest gratitude,” he sniffles, “Sensei.”
Yuki hears the familiar sound of knuckles on dense paper, dashing towards it to pry the door open.
Ah.
“Shigure-san. Hello,” Yuki says, bowing his head, arms glued straight at his sides. “Akito-san isn't home at the moment."
"That's alright. I came here to talk to you, Yuki-kun."
Yuki vacantly wonders what it could be about. Akito-san hadn't mentioned anything recently as far as he can recall. "I see. Um, I don't have tea or anything here, so—"
"It's fine," the older replies, a smile neatly plastered on his face. "I'll make it quick."
"Oh. Okay."
It’s hard to miss. He’s looking at me with such an indifferent look in his eyes.
"Would you like… to come to my home?”
Yuki knows he should be overjoyed. A man he barely knows is offering him salvation (or a bone—same difference), yet he can't shake this loneliness that starts to wash over him.
A cold, familiar sensation comes to mind then: thin, wooled limbs crowding in on bony shoulders. It makes him want to sink onto the floor a little less. He feels nauseous at the admission, but he figures it makes sense. A noose is warmer than a gun, after all.
“I appreciate your offer, Shigure-san, but I’ll have to decline,” he finally replies, followed by a mechanical bow of his head. “I’ll miss this house too much.”
"Would you want me to leave?" He doesn't look Haru's way at all when he asks, staring down the stars instead. It's easier that way. "This house. If I got the chance to, somehow."
It's what he tells himself, yet his gaze darts right back down anyway, holding his breath until an answer comes.
"You shouldn't be asking me that," the other replies, eyes firmly meeting his own. "What do you want, Yuki?"
Yuki swallows air, and sighs, looking at the floor instead. "Just answer the question."
Haru lets out an exhale in kind. "Well, yeah. If you leave, you'll get to go to public school. You could go to the sea, too." He cranes his neck up, fixing his gaze on the night sky. Yuki can't help but think how much they're alike after all. "I want you to see all kinds of things, and meet all kinds of people. I want you to be able to do everything you want, and be the happiest you can."
The quip dies in Yuki's throat, taken aback by the earnest admission. Decidedly, he ignores the warmth swarming his chest.
"We won't get to see each other anymore, though," he murmurs.
Haru looks back at him. "Who decided that? I'll come hang out like always."
"Sure you can find your way?" Yuki huffs out a laugh, light and airy.
"Oi," comes Haru's only retort, barking out a laugh.
In some ways, maybe the stories do hold truth. Maybe the Rat is blessed, after all.
“Hey, Haru.”
“Hm?”
“Can you take me there again? That clearing.”
“Okay."
The seasons change like falling snow—winter runs it's course, and before his first year of high school, the Rat follows the Dog out his enclosure.