Chapter Text
PRELUDE.
Endless white blankets this frozen landscape.
It is a sight as beautiful as it is brutal. It swallows the horizon whole, ravenous as a beast. Muffles sound so thoroughly, he can hardly hear the sharp crunch of snow underfoot. The snap and snarl of the wind drowns out his ragged breathing. Buries any trace of his existence six feet deep. … Good thing, then, that he was just the kinda guy who’d burst straight outta the coffin, letting loose a barrage of boisterous complaints.
(It’s cold as hell, but giving up was never an option. Wouldn’t it be seriously lame if the guys ever caught wind of it? Saiki Ittetsu, absolute hero, defeated by six feet of snow?!)
The winding path through the woods, bracketed by looming boughs of snow-dusted spruce, has long been blanketed by a near-blinding shade of white. His good old pal Anxiety’s starting to take hold of his synapses. He can’t help but wonder: how long will he have to wander this frigid forest? Aimlessly, endlessly, and all alone—who knew how long this directionally challenged hero would be stranded for, without someone to guide him home?
He craves—well, too much of it makes him feel a little uneasy. ‘Cause…well… What did he even do to deserve such careful consideration…? How would he ever repay such radiant, rampant kindness?! Seriously, experiencing even a morsel of Mana’s depthless, overflowing love for his genmates feels like—well, one of the world’s greatest luxuries. Something that money could never buy.
(Oh, Tetsu had done his best to hide it, sweating bullets beneath Mana’s scrutinizing gaze, but the side effects Tetsu faced from overusing his goggles’ scanning function left his brain cells begging for mercy. It was bad enough that his typically rapid fire responses became listless—maybe even lackluster.
After one too many close calls, the comedian had started bringing along migraine medication to tide him through longer missions. … Otherwise, the pain would persist to the point of Tetsu’s untimely collapse.
Tet~su, don’t overdo it, alright?
… Tetsu had never seen such a threatening smile before. As usual, he was swiftly cowed into compliance.)
Hell, he even craves Wen’s rapidfire retorts—the kind that always left them either roaring with laughter at their deadly accuracy, or wheezing from the critical hit. Honestly, they all hit the jackpot, landing this guy as their friend—he’s one hell of a cook. To pay it back, each of them would pile on the praise onto the flustered chef—to the point where they could practically see steam coming out of his ears. Hell, Wen’s face was red enough to match a rose in full bloom.
… And then there were the grocery lists Wen kept sending Tetsu, of all people, when he was drunk.
KP Niki
Eggs
Mirinnnn
Green onionssss
Dashiiiii
Misooooo
Garlic pastagahasf
Tetsu
???? W. Wen-kun
Are you
Are you wasted.
KP Niki
…
Ehhhhhhhhhhh
Tetsu. How did you knowww
…
Haha. Well. Yeagh.
(Wen-kun… Tetsu thought, equally amused and endeared, Never change.)
But, most of all, he craves Rito’s steady warmth: a large hand messing up his hair, a rock-solid arm around his shoulders. Whenever Tetsu was dragged beneath the depths, overthinking short-circuiting his synapses—drowning him twenty thousand leagues under the sea—the teasing tenor of his best friend’s voice was a gentle reminder. Ah. I can breathe again.
…Man!! It’s so damn cold!! Seriously!! Could Dream Tetsu at least issue an SOS, or something?! Isn’t this depressing-ass scene starting to grow a little stale?! If he was part of the audience, he’d probably doze off halfway through such a pathetic display!! Shouldn’t he be the director of his own mind theater, anyway?!
He wants his friends, damn it! Is that so much to ask for? Sure, they all shine so damn brightly half the time—so incandescently, ineffably radiant, that all he can do is—be eclipsed, falling into their shadow! He… really couldn’t blame them if they left this stumbling, socially anxious rookie in the dust!
(Even though he’s done his best not to drag them down with him…! Oh, they’d practically had to peel him from the training room’s mats in the beginning, that’s for sure. Still, he’d sparred with every senior hero willing to entertain his clumsy stances, his subpar parries, his pitiful counters—sharpening himself into the hero he was today.)
… But they’d at least have the decency to tell him goodbye, right? Right?? They’d never leave him behind that easily, surely? They’d dye this blank white landscape a thousand brilliant colors with their loud-ass voices, that’s for sure. They’d thaw Tetsu’s slowly freezing limbs with a warm embrace or two (no matter how much Tetsu squirmed and squawked his complaints…) Mess up Tetsu’s hair so thoroughly, it’d look fit for Rito’s avian cousins to call their home.
It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It has to be. It has to be. It has to be!! Just a—fucked-up figment of imagination concocted by Tetsu’s exhausted mind, surely, that Rito—his best friend, his beloved partner—was sprinting ahead of him, instead of matching his stride. A cruel illusion, that Rito chose to leave him behind.
… Ah, hell, maybe it won’t even be by choice, one day! Time will steal Tetsu’s best friend from him before he knows it, all while Tetsu’s clock’s long been frozen in place. Unmoving, unchanging, unaging. Like an ill-fated insect trapped in amber, a hapless butterfly held captive behind a pane of glass: all he could do was watch the world move on without him.
(That’s why Tetsu always lingers by the doorway before leaving, admiring Rito’s chiseled features while he can. Savoring every second by his side—it’s addictive, isn’t it? Basking in Rito’s comfortable warmth. Ah, seriously, he can’t get enough of it. It might even be better than taking a drag from a Mevius—Rito keeps leaving him craving more, more, more.)
In the end, maybe this haunting, harrowing dream is the origin of his selfishness. The root of his recklessness. If the script demanded a world without Rito, then he’d tear it apart with his own two hands. Restitch the fabric of the universe into one that welcomed them both, and rewrite that tragic fate into a comedy.
… That’s why Tetsu shoved Rito aside, and took that hit. He knew, without hesitation, that he would make the same choice a thousand times over. The last thing on Tetsu’s mind before he succumbed to the dark was:
Rito-kun, you know I’m stubborn as hell—so listen up, and listen well. Let me promise you this:
As long as I live, I won’t let death do us part.
ACT I.
Y’know, Rito can walk real quietly when he wants to.
Might come as a surprise to some, seeing as he looks like he’s all muscle. Yeah, sure, he’s got a ridiculously loud voice, and his hilarious, chicken-like laugh’s probably double the decibels. When he slaps you on the back, you swear the impact has you seeing the pearly gates. But he quietly remembers the brand of cooking wine Wen prefers off the top of his head; he can easily recite Mana’s favorite cafe order, opera cake and all, by heart; he somehow drops a bag of the dried sweet potatoes in your lap right when you’re craving them most.
… It’s late. You’re not sure how you got here—“here” being the base’s cushy couch—but Wen’d probably tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, as usual.
Oi, Tetsu! I think a bag of grapes could outweigh you. I feel like I’m carrying a small cat. You—are you eating enough? … Hey. What’s with that, seriously!! You were too dizzy (probably from the copious amounts of blood loss) to file your—at minimum —fifteen complaints, chief of them being: was this gal’s maternal instinct suddenly activated, or something?!
Someone’s wrapped you up in a blanket burrito. Probably Mana. A real comedian, that guy. … Damn, he’s probably posted at least three photos of “Limited Edition: Taco Tetsu” to the groupchat by now, paw-themed LINE stickers and all.
W-w-what do you mean, “cute”?! Mana-kun, I need you to listen closely. If you think about it, black panthers definitely fall into being “cool,” don’t they? … Oi. Don’t tell me. Is it too late to turn my reputation back from being “moe”?! Hey. Quit laughing!!
(It’s a cursed place, that groupchat. Sometimes Rito sends you the cat memes Rube’s been blowing up his phone with, recording a two-second voice message just to say: oi tetsu this you?? … That’s it. You’re rescinding his fruit gummy privileges until he quits; he’s the only one who knows the locations of your secret stashes.)
It’s probably the cigarette-themed blanket, too. Seriously. Is there an option to reject this themed photoshoot? Could this humble victim file a formal objection, PDF-style? … No? Fine. (At least you’d gotten Wen a highball body pillow as payback, so he could cuddle the one true love of his life any time. … Sorry, Rou-kun. You might have some serious competition…?!)
You’re too wiped to budge even a millimeter. Damn. Looks like your old friend anemia’s come to greet you again… Speaking of greetings, you hear footsteps coming closer, closer—whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s this guy up to, getting all c-c-close and personal?! You catch a hint of a familiar, comforting fragrance: all bright, refreshing citrus and rich spice blooming through the midwinter air.
It’s a miracle that your eyes don’t fly wide open with shock. O-Oi, Rito-kun! Don’t mind me as you…do whatever the hell you’re doing!! This is the face of a guy who’s definitely, absolutely, one! Hundred! Percent! Asleep!!
This guy, really. He’s practically your personal heater on colder days—you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves. He leans down, putting an ear to your chest. Checking for your heartbeat? Ah. You—you remember.
Three days ago, he’d carried you home. Hooked an arm beneath your legs, like you were made of glass. That’s right, for all his strength—you could never describe him as muscle-brained. He was gentle with Kirin-chan, and gentle with you in a way that made your heart do backflips. Somersaults. Y’know, the whole Olympic routine. … This guy, seriously. He’ll relentlessly tease Awake Tetsu until he’s red in the face, but tenderly take Asleep Tetsu home with a bridal carry?!
Of course you know why he’s checking for, well. Signs that you’re still alive.
You’ll never forget the voicemails he left you. It was the first thing you’d listened to when you woke up to a blindingly white ceiling. You’d almost sneezed at the sharp scent of antiseptic invading your nostrils—not to mention the miniature garden of bouquets (multiple?!) invading your bedside. Oh, you’ll have to thank Rube for helping Kagetsu add a cheery splash of color to this seriously sterile-looking room.
(Did sunflowers really suit a gloomy-looking guy like you, though…?)
*
YOU HAVE 3 UNREAD VOICEMAILS FROM RITOSEXY.
20XX/01/21. 00:25.
… The stains won’t wash away. From my hero uniform, that is.
Look what you’ve done to my search history, man. You’ve got me searching the web for “how to get rid of blood stains” like some two-bit serial killer.
(Stop, I can already hear you saying: Okay, Lady MacBeth. C’mon, now. Let’s get you to bed~!)
I can’t even ask Mana for tips. I’m pretty sure he cried buckets. 50 cm of rainfall, right there. You should’ve seen it. Yeah, we had to break out that old mop with the busted handle—the one we, drunk off our asses, collectively hallucinated into being a mic stand that one karaoke night.
That guy’s got a serious soft spot for you, y’know. Pretty sure he doesn’t understand a word of your twenty-slide meme presentations, but every time I see ‘im listening—he’s got that indulgent smile. The one where he’s five seconds from calling you cute. Might even ruffle your hair, if he’s in the mood for it. Then again, he’s always had a soft spot for the stray cats that snuggle up to him on the street, so.
He’s on his—what, second? Cafe-hopping-date-slash-complaint session with Rai this week. I bet you—at least part of it’s ranting about your reckless ass. He keeps coming back looking seriously refreshed. … How’d that mechanic find the time to commute from the West and back is beyond me, but I’m not complaining.
These days, Mana gets back to the base with a spring in his step. Light in his eyes restored. Faith in humanity revived. A grin on his face so damn wide, you’d think he’d been singing some flowery duet all the way home.
Oh, right. Why Mana? Listen. Just—look at his hero uniform, man. That thing’s white as snow—how the hell he keeps that thing pristine might as well have been one of our academy’s seven mysteries.
… What else, what else. Oh, right. Every time I hear that one yakimo vendor pull up on the street, the sound of that catchy lil’ jingle pouring from the speakers cuts through the cold. That sound, that song keeps making your silly lil’ grin—fangs poking out ‘n all—pop into my mind.
I swear, it was always like… some sorta Pavlovian reaction for you. Do you run this fast when evacuating civilians, or does this guy and his roasted sweet potatoes actually have a special place in your heart?!
… Another thing. God knows why, but I keep getting ads about Jigokudani Snow Park. I need a better reason to drag my ass all the way to the mountains, seriously. Staring at a bunch of monkeys splashing around in a bunch of hot springs… (Can’t I drag the three of you guys to the onsen across the street and witness the same thing for less?)
Wen heard my complaints from across the kitchen. Fired back in response. “What, not looking forward to the family reunion?” … with a bunch of monkeys, huh. Oi!! Again with the muscular gorilla comments!! The nerve of this guy!!
(Look at this jokester. I thought to myself, maybe I should dial Mana. Say something like, get a load of this guy—don’t you think there’s only room for one comedian in town??)
Just for that, I chased him around the bar with a fist raised in mock fury; that gal, ever the instigator, kept giggling all the while.
20XX/01/22. 01:00. [DELETED]
Wake up, Tetsu.
20XX/01/22. 01:00. [DELETED]
Please.
20XX/01/22. 01:05. [DELETED]
I’m begging you.
20XX/01/22. 01:15. [DELETED]
Ah, hell. I miss the deep baritone of your voice, painting the stale grey silence a thousand brilliant colors.
I miss the seriously hilarious reactions I get from teasing you, every syllable spilling so quickly from your mouth that—ah, there you go again, sweeping me up in your rapid-fire, reckless pace. Infecting me with that furious passion for theater, making me fall in love with y…the stage again and again—a thousand times over. What can I do but follow? What else is there for me to do, but give chase?
I miss the way your face brightens up—that is, when someone compliments you on your singing, fangs poking out in sheer delight. I swear, the sheer force of your beaming face could light up the room.
…Hey, take responsibility, you. I think I’ve been diagnosed with Tetsu deprivation.
[Rito wheezes dramatically.]
The doc says…it’s…terminal…!!
20XX/01/22. 01:50.
The first snow of the year, to you, is somehow always some sort of miracle.
Caught in a midsummer downpour, you’d never surrender to the dismal deluge. You once laughed and twirled around the nearest lamppost, instead. Bathed in the golden glow, backlit against the gloomy gray—I caught sight of your face: lit up with a singular, boyish laughter.
Ah, I thought, ridiculously, helplessly, and maybe just a little in l…just a little fond. Get a load of this guy—he was never good at directions, was he? Did this idiot suddenly wander into a modern retelling of “Singin’ in the Rain” or what?
What I’m saying is—there’s so many rainy days ahead of us.
(Geez. Maybe the night’s making me weirdly sentimental. Don’t get used to it, alright?!)
What I’m saying is—there are still so many of ‘em that I have yet to see. Gloomy days, snowy days, sunny days… Well. Heh. Yeah, it goes without saying—I wanna weather them all with you by my side. Obviously, there’s no better person to watch my back than my partner—you really don’t give yourself enough credit, half the time.
…
… Man. It just—isn’t the same without the combined force of our loud-ass voices: scaring away the neighborhood cats slinking through the shadowed alleyways, scattering the bluebirds twittering on barren boughs.
What a delightful ruckus we make. Right?
I… I miss you, alright. I need you to wake the hell up. Please. This silence, this stillness—never suited you in the slightest. So, c’mon now, you. Let’s raise our voices to the double digits, in terms of decibels.
Make some noise with me, just one last time.
20XX/01/23. 00:35.
Alright, fine. Enough beating around the bush, let’s—get to the heart of it.
Tetsu, I thought…you’d died.
You’d used up eight of your little goggle-wearing cats. Just one left to bring you back from the brink. I thought, damn, what a troublesome partner I’ve chosen to be mine. How the hell’re you gonna leave me behind like this? Not even gonna say goodbye to your good ol’ pal Rito? I thought, this idiot better stay alive, or I’m bringing him back from the dead just to shake some sense into him. Geez.
At this rate, you’re gonna give Mana gray hairs. Not to mention—Wen’s cooking keeps going cold, y’know. He keeps saving a plate for you, day after day, like some sorta summoning ritual. Does that make you the—what’d you call it? The limited SSR?
There’s a chair at the kitchen table that’s calling your name, y’know. Meals just aren’t the same with one seat empty—without your loud-ass voice filling the air, filling us non-Internet-addicted fellas in on the latest memes.
I thought about a lot of things, in the three days you were snoozin’ away. I thought about what I’d do if you never woke up. I thought how it’d be all my fault. I thought…about the two tickets I found in your pocket, for the musical I’d mentioned wanting to see offhand. I didn’t know you heard me. Didn’t know you’d somehow booked us front-row seats. You’d boasted that you had one hell of a surprise prepared for my birthday—boasted that you’d give me the time of my life.
Ha. You—seriously. What a bleeding heart. What a big-hearted idiot! Okay, well. I might’ve shed a manly tear or two. Or three. Hypothetically.
I know you. You—you say you’re bad with people, and you avoid eye contact with strangers like it’s the plague. But every time I walk to the convenience store across from the base, at least six kids swarm me with: Hey, Mister Hero. Where’s Tetsu-nii? He saved my mama, says Hana. He saved my cat, says Hiro. He saved me, says Akio. When I grow up, I wanna be just like Tetsu!
The cranky ol’ grandpa at the ramen stand told me, Tell that boy I’m giving ‘im a bowl or two—hell, as many as he wants—on the house. No, I ain’t takin’ no for an answer. My grandkids keep singin’ his praises. They love ‘im—can’t he see it? The stars shinin’ in their eyes? I need you to tell ‘im—I need ‘im to know!
You’re real popular ‘round these parts, I’ll have you know. You’ve touched so many lives—thoughtlessly, carelessly, so damn easily—like it’s breathing. You didn’t think they’d remember you—never expected anything in return. It’s second nature to you, and it shows.
… Idiot. You didn’t have to take that hit for me. I’m—it’s my job, you know? We all knew the risks of this occupation when we signed up. And I just know you’re going to tune out Mana’s impending lecture—oh, I know you. You’ll smile and nod at all the right parts, ‘cause you’re practically memorized the script by now, but it’s in one ear and out the other. You’d make the same choice a thousand times over—for me, for Mana, for Wen—in a heartbeat.
You’d called out to us once, tipsy as hell: “Rito-kuuuuuun, Mana-kuuuun, Wen-kuuunn.” Mana gave you the same indulgent smile as always, ruffling your hair. You’d pouted as Wen gave you a sharp-toothed grin, sliding you a glass of water across the bar. I’d never seen his smile vanish so quickly at your words. “I’d die for you, y’know?”
… Idiot. Of course I know. Mana’s cried over your corpse more times than I can count. He’d cried then, too, flinging his arms around you—wrapping you in a warm embrace. You were never a skinship kinda guy, so you’d squirmed in his arms like a particularly skittish stray cat—before surrendering to his touch.
Wen’d flicked your forehead for uttering such nonsense in his bar of all places, while I pulled at your (surprisingly mochi-like) cheeks until you promised to stop being so careless with your life. Wen launched a surprise attack, hugging you both from the back. Finally, I gave in, ‘cause the lot of you were being a bunch of saps—I threw an arm over your scrawny-ass shoulders, and laughed myself breathless into the curve of your neck.
[A long pause. A long, shaky breath. Rito’s typically brazen, booming tenor trembles. Breaks.]
I waited and waited and waited. With every second, something in me festered. Something like anger rose up in me like embers. Something like fear dragged me down to the depths. I sat there and counted the—what felt like eternity between your waning heartbeats, a millennia between your wheezing breaths.
… Y’know, Tetsu. I never wanted to know the warmth of your blood. I never wanted to know—what a blinding, brilliant color it was against the sheer white snow.
(I used to laugh at how easy it was to lift you into the air. You’d squawked so loudly, half the courtyard had turned to listen to your red-faced pterodactyl screeches. You’d pounded your puny fists against my chest, frantically flailing at a passing classmate: S! O! S!
I grinned, smug, knowing that few would dare to go against my—what, 181 cm? of pure muscle. Hummed the victory fanfare from one of your favorite games. Inhaled the aroma of white musk, blooming roses, and split cedar—that’s right, Tetsu, you’ve got me hooked. I couldn’t get enough of that fragrance. Couldn’t get enough of you.
Long after you left my arms, the scent of your cologne lingered in the midsummer air.
… Childishly, selfishly— a part of me craved having your oblivious ass to myself. Not a very hero-like statement, I know. Haaah, well. I guess a part of me still hasn’t grown up from those golden days we spent together, alright?
I can’t help it, y’know, not when you looked at me like that whenever we were pushing through a crowd, drowning in a sea of strangers. I swear, that face of yours could light up the night like some sorta firecracker—I’m sure you could match one, too, decibel for decibel. Damn, that’s a thousand-watt smile you’ve got there, stupidly cute lil’ fangs ‘n all.
It was like—once you caught sight of my broad shoulders, caught wind of my cawing cackle—you could breathe again.
… Yeah, that’s right. You looked at me like I was the last living thing on earth.)
Y’know, Tetsu… I never wanted to know the weight of your body—the weight of your life.
For a moment, I could’ve almost convinced myself that you were dreaming. You were curled up like some snoozing kitten. Looked like you were just havin’ your mid-afternoon catnap—-dozing off in the convenient patch of golden sunlight that always fell across the base’s couch. Any minute now, and you’d start mumbling in your sleep—whining my ears off: ahhhhh, damn it, the rising prices of cigarettes’re enough to make a grown man weep!!
… But I could never be that fucking delusional. Not with the blood—your blood—painting my clothes a sickening scarlet.
Maybe the fact that you’d died for me was finally starting to sink in, weighing down each and every one of my steps like lead. … Hah, I… I don’t think I’ll ever forget that shade of red. It paints the back of my eyelids on sleepless nights, that haunting, heartrending hue. An infinite sea of crimson, lapping at my ankles—a ravenous tide, swallowin’ me whole. Reeeal fun stuff here. ‘S not like I was already afraid of the ocean, or anything.
… Ah, damn it, Tetsu! You big-hearted idiot, you…! Enough of that gloomy nonsense, I… Quit pulling this shit on me, seriously. You’ll make Kirin-chan cry—now, is that what a hero does? You, you…. You’re such a bleeding heart that it hurts to look at you sometimes—literally and figuratively!! Geez.
Just. Wake the hell up already, sleepyhead!! Alright?! Hah, seriously… Don’t keep me waiting, now.
We’ve got a show to catch.
INTERMISSION.
Let’s wind the clock back, shall we. Dive back to before it all began.
(As the dark-haired deuteragonist might complain, that oversized chicken’s hogging the spotlight!
Let the velvet curtains rise. Watch the previous bright-haired actor take his leave with a gallant flourish, a brazen bow. He cares little for the brilliant roses tossed his way. Hardly pays the scarlet petals simpering at the soles of his polished leather shoes any mind.
He only has eyes for the man onstage. Captivated by the way his sheepish smile falls away, adorned with an antagonist's stereotypical arrogance—it drapes over him like a score of jewels, illuminating the man in glimmering gold. … There’s a reason he trusts his co-performer to undertake reconnaissance missions, and it’s the way he shines the brightest beneath the stage lights—brighter than any polished gem.
… But enough of that. We’re not here for practiced roles, for scripted sentences, for paper faces on parade, for waltzes at a constant meter, nor rondos played at the same old rhythm. Because he never needed a charming prince, a dashing villain, nor a swashbuckling pirate—not even a brash, budding rakugoka. All he ever wanted was—
—who else, but Tetsu? Another tomorrow by his side, and then another, and then another. For as long as that idiot would have him. Until his joints suddenly began to creak like unoiled hinges, until silver slowly began to overtake the gold crowning his head: strand by strand, year by year.
… He remembers. An abundance of static clings to his body in the colder months. It’s the source of many harried chases around the kitchen. A chicken-like cackle cuts through the formerly peaceful silence. Mana shakes his head at the spectacle: a pair of grown men acting like grade schoolers. As if to prove his point, Tetsu squawks like a strangled goose in dismay, narrowly swerving past the kitchen counter—only to get KO’ed by a misplaced chair.
Greeting half-past seven with the sizzle of Wen working his magic, Tetsu recovers quickly—apparently, his HP’d been immediately restored… once he’d caught a whiff of the “seriously scrumptious” aroma drifting from the stove. He’d even jokingly fluttered his lashes at their resident chef for seconds. … Mornings like these, filled with a chorus of cackles warm enough to chase away the bitter cold—yeah, that’s right. He’d never get sick of them.
All he wants is to ask for forever.
… Ha! Well. Easier said than done.)
*
*
*
Some days, you feel a bit like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard, its wings perpetually suspended mid-flight.
You once caught a glimpse of their glittering wings behind a cool pane of glass. You were cradling a dainty (seriously expensive-looking?!) little teacup, the sweetness of cocoa melting slowly on your tongue. Some kind of symphony drifted through your ears from a vinyl record, creating a real classy atmosphere, and—oh man. Not gonna lie, you felt a little out of place.
There were countless curios on display at R’Beyeh, sure, but for some reason—you were drawn to a polished mahogany cabinet, metamorphosed into a miniature moratorium: a sight as morbid as it was magnificent; a spectacle as gorgeous as it was gruesome.
You felt—a little nauseous, not gonna lie. A little unsteady on your feet, a little sick to your stomach. ‘Cause, well. You might as well’ve been looking into the pale mockery of a mirror, your warped reflection giggling at poor ol’ Tetsu—just another hapless insect trapped in amber. Immortalized forever in a suffocatingly tiny, infinitely unchanging li’l pocket of time. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want—
The third time you turned twenty-one, you cried like the world was ending. Because you were so damn scared of being left behind. Because—selfishly, childishly, hopelessly—a small part of you wanted these days to last forever.
Warm-hearted, witty Wen, waiting at the stove: welcoming you back with arms open wide. You quickly washed your hands, narrowly dodging one of his clever retorts—you could almost see one forming, like clouds before the storm. There was a serving of his signature fried chicken he’d saved just for you—after a mission that strained muscles you didn’t even know you had, something about that smile felt like salvation. Were angels singing?? Was that a halo you saw forming??
You chased him around the kitchen, singing praises for his grade-A cuisine; flustered, he covered his ears—before brandishing his spatula at you like a blade.
Quick-witted, clever Mana, dragging the three of you to a popular cafe one sunny day. (Apparently, it’d received glowing reviews on social media. Hard to doubt the guy who’d been absentmindedly scrolling SNS at the time…) His penchant for comedy never fails to make you laugh. (Every time he hears your “old man wheezing,” Mana can’t help but scold you for the sorry state of your lungs.)
Even though he couldn’t understand half the meme references that spill from your mouth in an endless flood, he still hangs onto every syllable—like whatever nonsense you have to say is something precious. Now if he’d just quit ruffling your hair….
And at the end of it all is—well, who else could it be, but Rito? Brilliant, brazen Rito, who slowly nibbles your supply of gummies into nothing when you’re not looking (was this guy secretly a squirrel?! Maybe the P*kachu comparisons hit closer to home than you thought…)
This guy…. He’s always teasing you relentlessly—always bursting into a strange, cawing laughter so damn loud, you almost wanted dial JAXA just to ask: hey, can you hear this oversized chicken cawing away? Sound barrier be damned, you could probably hear him from the stratosphere.
Well. Not that you’re any better—most of the time you match him, decibel for decibel. As his partner, as his rival, as his best friend—you’re always racing to keep up. The thought of it lights a blazing fire beneath your footsteps: because there’s no way you’re losing to this guy!
Yeah, that’s right. He cuts through the haze whenever your old friend anxiety drags you beneath the depths, bright like a beacon cutting through the fog. The same old barrage of banter: the kind that leaves you squawking in dismay; the kind that always ends in him slapping you on the back.
It’s comfortable. It’s easy. It’s habit, plain and simple, the way you slot by his side on the way back to the base; habit, the way his gaze rakes over your body, scanning for any sign of injury. The heat of it lingers. That molten stare, burning into your back—it’s all you can think about on the way home.
So. Yep. That’s Saiki Ittetsu for you, folks. You’d bawled like a baby, right in front of the colorful cigarette-themed candles Wen’d bought as a joke. Ehhh, Tetsu?! What’s wrong? Mana’s Kansai accent came through at full force; flustered, he scrambled for tissues. Someone’s warm hand—was that Wen?—was patting you on the back, sky-blue eyes narrowing with concern. Even Kirin-chan hopped out of Rito’s pocket, pawing at your cheeks as if to wipe away your tears. So much for tissues, right? But Rito—
Rito was looking at you. He knew what you needed, in this moment—a silent, honest reminder: oi, Tetsu, what’re the tears for? Always with the teasing, this guy. Just another way of saying: I’m here. A little tears never scared the world’s sexiest hero; like hell I’m leaving you alone like this.
… Something about Rito’s quiet kindness eased the ache. It soothed something in your chest—something that was howling like a wounded animal, pacing like a beast behind the bars. Maybe it was your heart, cradled gently in his calloused palms.
Yeah, you’ve seen his strength in action, alright. Even now, you can almost hear the crackle of electricity from several feet away: sizzling, smoking, a searing heat radiating from the area he’d been stationed. Wow. Those Kozaka-C must’ve hated to see him coming—he’d left craters in the asphalt, descending like some grand meteorite about to decimate the last of the dinosaurs. (… Um. Wait a minute. Can I even joke about this? Should I. Should I apologize? What would I even say? Oi, Wen, sorry about slandering your distant cousins…?!)
Rito’s gaze was gentle. For all his strength, he was twice as tender—and maybe that’s just one of the reasons you’d let him cradle your heart in his hands.
ACT II.
… Yeah, that’s right. You looked at me like I was the last living thing on earth.
You can’t get Rito’s words out of your head.
(It’s always at times like these that Rito sees right through you. Oh, you could hide a limp from Mana, sure, grumbling that you’d just stubbed your toe. Fend off Wen’s concerns, playing off your cracked ribs as wheezing from overexertion. Real workout we had today, huh? I’m… just outta breath, Wen-kun, ‘s…all there is to it.
But Rito knew you like the back of his hand. He’s long catalogued each and every one of your tells in the special corner of his mind reserved for your stupidity.
See, you had a habit of grabbing your left index finger, fiddling with your gloved hands whenever your heart raced from the guilt of telling a little white lie. He’d catch that you were favoring one leg over the other, even if you only let it slip for a fraction of a second. Hell, maybe he even knew your limits better than yourself.)
Shion—lavender asters—bloomed before your eyes, a secret kaleidoscope reserved for your eyes alone. The more petals scattered at your feet, the dizzier you felt. The cute little forget-me-nots poking their heads from the snow set off alarm bells in your head—weren’t they way out of season? They’d danced before your cracked goggles in the wintry wind; the fractured visual interface sent static crackling through your throbbing head.
Oh yeah. Your head had been pounding like someone had taken a Rai-sized hammer to it, so you’d almost forgotten about the cognitive filter that came with your goggles. (There was a heat sensor and night vision setting, too—real nifty stuff, right there.)
You know. That filter. The handy-dandy one that turns gross things into cute things—the one that made it look like flowers were blooming in the place of fatal wounds. The engineer who’d handed your device had rattled off a lot of scientific jargon that flew right over your head, but you got the gist of it—something about reducing the mental load? Whatever that meant.
… The last thing you’d seen before dying was Rito. Bright shades of sunflower yellow and sword lily orange—a blindingly beautiful, impossibly incandescent bouquet.
(An honorable flower for an honorable guy. Right? Its bold petals brazenly sing of strength, and solemnly pray for remembrance. Well—they say that if you gift a guy a gladiolus, you want to tell him something. Maybe the giver doesn’t have the guts to say it outright, y’know? Maybe they balk at bare-faced sincerity, and turn to the tongues of flowers, instead.
My heart’s been pierced with passion~!
Wasn’t that your favorite line from the musical we’d watched last week? I know, I know. The stage blocking left much to be desired, but they more than made up for it with the line delivery—heh heh. Don’t think I didn’t see you on the edge of your seat! Dahaha, well?
Maybe I’d willingly be felled by your brilliant blade.
If it was you, Rito-kun—if it was you, I… Haaaa. What can I even offer you, though? I’m no dashing phantom thief, swooping down from the rooftops to steal the damsel’s heart—rose in my mouth and all. It’s not like I have chestfuls of pirate’s gold laying around, or scores of glittering jewels squirreled away… N-not that you’ve ever been interested in that kind of thing, but—oi, stop laughing, you!!
Rito. All I have is my heart and soul. ‘S not much, I know, but if you want it—take it. It’s all yours.)
Well! If you think about it. It wasn’t one of the worst ways to go, y’know—cradled in a good-looking (and pretty muscular) guy’s arms, you felt— safe . And maybe even warm, come to think of it. (Or maybe that was the blood loss setting in, hahaha…ha.)
All jokes aside…ah, seriously. You wouldn’t have minded it being the last sight you saw on Earth.
… Ah, but… There was just one thing that’d bothered you. Right before you’d passed out for three days straight, you’d felt like…it’d been starting to drizzle. A few warm drops had spilled on your face, so you’d reached out blindly. Flailing a little, before your hand met Rito’s cheek, cradling it with care.
Something about him felt… strangely fragile, in that moment. Five seconds from shattering. Poised on a dangerous precipice. So you’d reached out, because it was all you could do—desperately wanting to drag him back from the brink. Proverbially catch him if he fell.
(Sure, he was 181 cm of solid muscle, but his heart was softer than anything. Real squishy, y’know. Like marshmallows, you’d teased. And clouds. And pillows. Just look at how gently he treats Kirin-chan, seriously.)
Weakly, stupidly, foolishly—you’d tried to shield your dearest friend from drowning in a potential downpour. From succumbing to a sudden deluge named despair.
… Honestly, you were pretty out of it at that point, but… No, wait. Hadn’t it been snowing? It’d been cold enough for your breath to condense into silvery clouds, so there’s no way…Ah. … Huh? Wait a damn minute!!
Rito must have been…c-c-crying?!
*
*
It’s not like—Tetsu was avoiding Rito, or anything.
Not like he’d checked over the patrol schedule twice over, and perfectly timed his prompt escape to the base’s roof. Crept away to his ill-hidden haven, where he enjoyed the heights of indulgence. Living in the lap of luxury, if you will. Also known as slowly yet surely succumbing to his nearest and dearest vice: smoking, of course. … He could probably light a Mevius from muscle memory, at this point.
(Haha. Ha. Ha… Ah, damn. There’s only so long that he can bear to lie to himself.)
Briefly, he tries to pacify his panicked heart with live, scrolling commentary. Something like… Look out. New NHK documentary just dropped! Observe: the resident chainsmoker in his natural habitat. On occasion, this timid creature is known to consume questionable materials as sustenance, including: (but not limited to!) soil, grass, stones, and scorpions. Be wary, as he may approach and ask you to partake in activities such as a moth mukbang, or a beetle-eating broadcast…
The door to the rooftop creaks open. Enter stage right, the man of the hour.
If the thoughts scrambling through Tetsu’s head were to be summarized, they could be described, rather eloquently, in four words: oh shit oh fuck. To calm himself, he called upon his tried and true coping mechanism—yes, the one that steadied him through heart-racing interviews and harrowing enemy interrogations alike.
(… The two scenarios were equally nightmarish; his fight-or-flight instinct would activate either way. Kind of funny, really. Being confronted with the polished chrome of a company office and cornered in a mildew-ridden cave… were met with the same response…?!
… Because on the stage, he could be anyone. Donning that multicolored kimono was like metamorphosis. Saiki Ittetsu would crawl into the chrysalis; only after clawing his way out of the cocoon would Yotaro, the silver-tongued storyteller emerge. Through rakugo, he could reinvent himself, if only for a while. Something like metamorphosis, maybe, if he wanted to be poetic about it. If he were to be blunt—at times, all he wanted to do was forget.
He could shed his cowardice in favor of the bold bandit’s bravado, brandishing it like a blade. Discard his flustered countenance, becoming the coquettish courtesan: snaring any man foolish enough to stumble straight into her web. It was refreshing, wasn’t it? To take solace at the yose, armed with nothing more than a hand towel and a folding fan. Seat himself on the cotton zabuton, and let the world fall away.)
If he thought about it—this rooftop scene could be a work of fiction, if recounted to an invisible audience.
If he blinked once, he could imagine the velvet fabric of a theater’s curtains framing the night sky above. If he blinked twice—ah, would you look at the time! The opening act’s about to begin. What’re you waiting for? A snap of the fingers, a cursory bow. Dim the lights, set the scene! Take your seats, ladies and gentlemen, and enjoy the show.
SCENE I
RITO
Hey, Tetsu. ‘S late as hell. Can’t sleep?
Rito’s doing that thing again—where he speaks so damn gently that Tetsu’s heart has no choice but to perform twenty-six pirouettes. It’s the voice he uses on Kirin-chan when she she dozes off standing up, coaxing her to curl up in her cute little bed; the voice he uses on bawling brats who’d scraped their knees; the voice he uses on the stray cats that warily sniff his hands, winding their tails around his ankles—the skittish ones, always five seconds from bolting.
TETSU
Eh, R-R-Rito-kun! Lately I’ve…
What? Been having nightmares about you abandoning me? Like hell that’d go over well.
TETSU
[shrinking beneath Rito’s deadpan stare]
B-been sleeping like a baby, really!
RITO
Hey, you... Saying this like I can’t see the bags beneath your eyes, clear as day? Real gutsy of you to lie straight to my face.
Rito closes the distance, tracing one of said eyebags with a warm thumb. Tetsu’s brain bluescreens. His train of thought careens straight off the tracks. The conductor is screaming his head off. Just like his face, the figurative train station he calls his brain’s been set aflame.
RITO
[smirking]
Y’know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I missed your loud-ass voice. Missed the way you squint when you smile. (I start getting cuteness aggression, seriously.) Missed the way your fangs poke out when you grin at the latest memes. The way your face lights up when you catch sight of your friends in a crowd—
TETSU
[combusting]
Aaaaaah! D-damn, that’s embarrassing! Didn’t you tell me this already? S-spouting the same old lines like this, aren’t you ashamed?!
RITO
[smugly]
Ah, so you did listen to my voicemails…
TETSU
[sweating bullets]
Oi! This guy’s seriously shameless!
And. Well. Um. S-s-so what if I did?!
TETSU
[sheepishly scratching his cheek]
Aaaah, geez, Rito-kun, you seriously know how to get a man’s heart racing!
Damn, I was probably, what? Like a grade-schooler when it came to things like love, if I’m being honest. Naturally, I scarfed down a healthy diet of shoujo manga to expand my narrow worldview. … All I could think was… Man, if someone ever got my heart pounding like that, I’d think I was…I dunno, having palpitations or something.
Who needs things like marriage when you have the next best thing, manga—oi!! I take it back, I take it back, Rito-kun, don’t headlock meeeeeee! I’m kidding, I’m kidding!
Ahaha. … But it was real nice, you know. The way you carried my body so damn gently. I think—my dreams that night were sweet. The sky was filled with twice as many stars than usual. Oh, if you could’ve seen how brightly they shone…
RITO
[warmly; turning away to hide his burning face]
Ahahaha, you… You’ve really been rakugo-ing it up lately, I see. It’s making a real poet outta ya, I’ll say.
… But I’m glad. I was real careful, y’know. Because I was carrying something pretty damn precious.
TETSU
[sputtering]
P-p-p-p-precious?! Me?
RITO
[fondly]
Yeah, you. No other idiot I’d choose to spend the rest of my life with.
TETSU
[flustered]
… You!! You always leave me racing to keep up with your long-ass strides, ‘cause you think it’s funny to see me huffing and puffing when you leave me in the dust!! But now that I’ve finally caught up, I—I want to match the heartfelt words you spoke to me on all those sleepless nights!!
Ahhhhh, geez! I’m sorry, I… avoided thinking about it for the longest time, to be honest!
… Because I couldn’t bear the thought of being left behind.
The clock keeps moving forward, while I’m left scrambling to keep up—time has no hold on me. I know. I’ve told you this already, but I—the least I can do is give you an answer.
… I want to tell you something.
TETSU
[softly]
I remember. Your hands were so damn warm.
I felt my body growing colder and colder, but for some reason—I wasn’t afraid. Because you were there—because I knew you would protect me. At that moment, I thought—there’s no better place to die than in your arms, surely. No safer place on earth than this.
Ahaha. Strange, isn’t it. Now that I’ve started talking, it’s hard for me to stop. Like usual, whenever I chat with you—my thoughts overflow. Desperately, fervently—I need you to know:
… I don’t know if I’ll ever live to see heaven, seeing as my clock’s stopped in place. But I don’t want anything as fancy as angels, nor the clean slate of reincarnation; I don’t crave salvation nor rebirth. All I want is—heh heh. Don’t I have it already? The closest thing to paradise. A warm place to return to.
Three people that call my name, just to say: welcome home.
RITO
[red-faced, rubbing the back of his neck]
You… you…! When’d our Tetsu become such a sweet-talker, seriously.
RITO
[slings an arm around Tetsu’s shoulder]
… Alright, hey, hold up. Lemme raise some objections here.
There’s no way in hell we’d leave you behind. Knowing you, you’d mistake Kyoto Station for Tokyo Station all over again, and somehow end up 490 kilometers off course. I heard you’d dialed Mana for directions with tears in your eyes; exasperated, he’d marveled that he’d encountered a truly endangered species: no, seriously, was there still someone who didn’t know how to operate Google Maps in this day and age?! Forget Wen, I think the one stuck in the Jurassic Era might be you…
You’re probably the reason why Wen’s started asking us periodically: have you eaten yet~? I swear, his mom tendencies are growing by the day. I saw it all go down at the bar. Thanks for the free live entertainment, by the way.
Eh! No way, vegetable juice and Ramune? That’s it?! Oi, Tetsu, just because it has “vegetable” in the name doesn’t mean it replaces the real thing! Well, there’s no helping it… guess I’m cooking tonight!
… Oh. Wait a second, I know what you mean. One day, it… might not be by choice, huh. No matter how much I want to grow old by your side… It all comes down to that damn curse, doesn’t it?
… I’m a man of my word, y’know, so I don’t want to go making promises I can’t keep. Don’t want to give you false hope and end up breaking your stupidly big heart. (‘S probably two sizes bigger than the average person’s—you’re the perfect candidate for this profession, I’ll have you know.)
But if you think about it—if you remember us, then… If you remember that one rainy day. The way the sky opened up, right when our dumb asses were booking it down the street just to catch the bus. Unsurprisingly, you tripped, flailed like a cartoon character brought to life, and ate shit with the world’s most miserable wail. You looked like a sopping wet cat, seriously.
No, wait, hear me out, this is just the beginning of the story!!
I laughed my ass off then, but five seconds later I met the same fate—just as the bus left our sorry hides to rot in the rapidly growing puddles. Stranded sixty kilometers from home, we slunk into the reception of the closest hotel, sending the world’s soggiest-looking selfie to the group chat.
After a change of clothes, we went out for ramen. Never mind that it was late as hell, we were so damn hungry that I was starting to worry you’d start gnawing at the complimentary cardstock or something, like some oversized mouse.
Honestly, I think—if I was on my own, everything would’ve seemed like a real pain in the ass. I’d remember the paperwork piling up, the mission report I didn’t even have the time to write my name on, and most importantly, the way I’d left Kirin-chan’s bed at home—she’d just have to suffer through our loud-ass snoring, huh?
But something about the way you rambled about the musical set to premiere that week with stars in your eyes…made all the miserable little mishaps of the day melt away. … You really looked like a chipmunk when you stuffed your face like that, come to think of it. What else… You said “delicious!” so many times that the word was starting to lose its meaning—it seriously cracked me up.
Ah, man. Your loud-ass laugh, your passionate complaints about the plot twist tossed in just for shock value, your stupidly bright smile—something about it was so damn captivating. Even if the spotlight was a flickering lamp in a dingy old ramen shop, you shone with all the brightness of a star. Dialed up the wattage to one thousand, and drowned out the sound of the pouring rain with wondrous noise. I couldn’t look away for even a moment: mesmerized like a moth to a flame.
… Yeah, that’s right. As long as you remember us, then a part of us will live forever. Look at that, I’m a genius. Beat the scholars to it—that’s the real secret to immortality. … Damn cheesy, I know, but… All the world’s a stage, right?
What I’m saying is, be my witness. A hundred years from now, I want you to tell our story.
About the pink-haired chef who cooked us out of a hostage situation with nothing but karaage and a campfire.
(What the hell. Who knew the same guy who dodges praise with the face of a blushing maiden… could sweet-talk his way outta being surrounded?! His part-time work as a bartender’s seriously paying off—although no amount of practice can replace that guy’s natural charm. … Heh. Getting a hostage out from gunpoint with a bowl of gyudon’s a sight I’d never thought I’d witness, but that’s our chef’s culinary prowess for you.)
About the clever comedian whose sense of style resulted in him shooting down an offer from a top modeling agency.
(He chose us like it was breathing. Didn’t even hesitate for half a second. Said that he knew where he belonged, knew where he wanted to go. There’s a comedy routine he’s halfway done writing, see, and a place for him at the kitchen table. Wow. Can you believe it? Three messages in the group chat threatening to steal my portion of karaage if I don’t hurry up. Those cheeky brats. Please excuse my abruptness, sir. They’re waiting for me, you see. Waiting for me to come home.)
And as for me—well. If I don’t break your curse in time… don’t you go forgetting little ol’ me, now. A hundred years from now, or maybe even a thousand. I’m real selfish, you see—oi, haven’t I told you already? I wanted to hoard you all to myself. So! I’ll rewrite the faces of all your future lovers into mine. Death and all that nonsense means nothing—my stubborn ass won’t be letting you go so easily, y’hear?
As long as you live—as long as you engrave my life and laughter into your memory—you’ll never be rid of me.
… Hey now. Oi, Tetsu, seriously. What’re the tears for, you sap? Smile, don’t cry.
Let’s savor every second we have together while it lasts. Linger in the warmth of my doorway, just a little longer, the way you always do. One day in the future, I think this ephemeral happiness will ease the ache of parting—yeah, that’s right. That fleeting joy will prevail over the pain of being left behind one day.
Making people laugh—isn’t that what you do best?
POSTLUDE.
Endless white blankets this frozen landscape.
It is a sight as beautiful as it is brutal, sure, and—hey, wait a minute, you’re starting to feel just a little deja vu?!
You’ve had this dream countless times, though—that’s for sure. Each time, the weight of it would linger once you’d flailed face-first into reality, sheets coiling around your legs like a vise. The pervasive feeling of permafrost. Bitter frost biting into your fingertips. That cutting chill, settling so deep into your bones that you feared would never thaw. And yet—you feel like there’s something different about this oversized icebox.
… The horizon, it’s—so damn bright, now, when it used to be dark as ink.
Maybe it was Mana who’d painted your overcast skies a brilliant blue. The day he’d dragged you out clothes shopping, shaking his head at the state of your wardrobe. (Essentially several copies of your favorite t-shirt, emblazoned with your beaming face, and various pairs of fraying shorts.) You… seriously can’t believe he covered the cost! … Not that your broke ass could ever afford to, but—all he’d asked for in return was to call him Mana, just this once. Ab~so~lutely no honorifics! Or else!
You’d hemmed and hawed and eyed the nearest window, and Mana’d looked like he’d been desperately trying not to laugh.
You’d squawked, flustered—he was wearing the same indulgent smile as usual; speaking in the same gentle voice he reserved for skittish stray cats and particularly cute animals. And yet—when you’d shyly called his name, dragging your gaze from a particularly fascinating floor tile—he was beaming so damn brightly, you were almost sure the sheer force of it could break through the dark clouds shrouding the horizon: shattering any sense of self-doubt in one solid strike.
Maybe it was Wen who’d made those candy-colored clouds bloom across that infinite, endless canvas; man, what a blindingly cheerful bouquet it was—you’d expected no less from the resident gal, whose decorative sense leaned towards the cuter side. Sometimes you’d joke about calling him mom, just so he could stroke your fluffy hair once… or twice… or maybe thrice— ehhhh, whaddya mean my kitty-cat tendencies are showing, Wen-kun?! Dahaha.
(Whenever you’d slinked back into the kitchen, refreshed from a smoke break, a few extra servings would’ve mysteriously appeared on your plate. … Geez! What’s with this guy!!)
Come to think of it… Are you the one activating Wen-kun’s latent motherly qualities?! Nicotine’s known to suppress your appetite; you could probably live off Ramune half the time—see, it covers all bases, doesn’t it? Vegetable ramune, blueberry ramune—alright, alright, you can’t even convince yourself with this one.
(Wen-kun’s pupils narrow into slits whenever he catches wind of your questionable eating habits. … Scary!! Too scary!! You make stew sometimes, too, you swear!!)
Maybe it was Rito who brought the sun to illuminate the shadowy, skulking corners of your heart.
Rito, who’d set all the tenebrous doubts within your ribcage free, evaporating each and every falsehood with the sheer, unwavering faith he had in your abilities. (The force of it felt like you’d caught a glimpse of that distant star firsthand.) With a bit of light-hearted banter, just like that—you’ve begun to realize one singular truth.
Somewhere within the chambers of your heart, you know: that there will always be a place for him there.
(Wait a damn second! That cheeky bastard had probably already settled there long ago—making himself right at home. It was his smug little grin that coaxed your stuttering heart to beat again, practically bursting from your chest in a fit of indignance. His chicken-like laughter that goaded you, stoking the wavering wick into a roaring flame. His solid embrace that made you feel like you’d just found the safest place in the universe.)
… They all shine so damn brightly.
The incandescence of their smiles—you’ve long committed it to memory. Seared it into your mind, tucked it carefully into a treasure box, squirreled it away for a rainy day. A hundred, thousand years from now, long after you’ve tucked them away to sleep, their light will continue to guide you through the dark.
The day they breathe their last… You’ll have to be there, won’t you? Holding their leathery hands whenever they become frail old grandpas, guiding them into gentle dreams as they breathe their last. Maybe then—and only then—you’ll gently kiss their wrinkled foreheads, one by one, and whisper: goodnight.
… Out of character for skittish ol’ Tetsu, right? The hell is the author thinking, seriously?
But back when you were just a boy, you’d always come running whenever you heard the soft pad of your mother’s footsteps, waiting for her to work her magic. She’d ward off any bad dreams with her signature move, KO’ing any wandering yokai with one hit! You’d offer her your forehead with a stupidly wide smile, and she’d cast her secret spell; little did you know, it wasn’t any act of onmyodo or sorcery. The star ingredient wasn’t witchcraft or warding—it was actually pretty damn simple.
(It’s what you want to impart to your friends, now and always. So that their dreams will forever be sweet, in this life and the next.)
All along—after all these years—you’ve uncovered her secret ingredient, thanks to the warmth of your closest friends. Instead of being bashful, you’ve learned to bask in their light. Instead of scampering away from Rito’s bear hugs, Mana’s hair ruffles, Wen’s headpats—you’ll have to savor every second you have with them. It’s not magic that hangs in the air, but rather—how should you put it?
The greatest spell of all—isn’t it love?
*
*
*
EPILOGUE.
RUBE
[curious]
I~ttetsu, I’m back. Ahaha, that appraisal took longer than expected.
… Oho, what’s this? I always see you carrying that beat-up old notebook these days. Writer’s block?
TETSU
[in the process of becoming a miserable puddle on the coffee table]
Ahhhhh, Rube-kuuun! I can’t take it anymore!!
See, see, see, the problem is—there’s so many stories I need to tell, I just—don’t know where to begin! Just picture it. A thousand glimmering, golden moments, as numerous as stars in the sky! I can’t let a single one slip from my grasp!
ROU
[exasperated]
Haaa. Ittetsu. Calm down a little, will you? … I’m getting secondhand anxiety just looking at you.
As long as you don’t suddenly develop dementia, those precious memories of yours aren’t going anywhere.
RUBE
[eyes sparkling]
Wow? Do I need to get my ears checked? Koyanagi-kun says nice things sometimes~
ROU
[eye twitching]
You…
RUBE
[turning to Tetsu]
Ahaha. Koyanagi-kun’s so easy to rile up, just like always~
ROU
… Can you stop talking like I’m not here?
RUBE
[doing exactly that]
Hm~ well? Why don’t you tell us all about it, then? I~ttetsu.
Ahaha. We have all the time in the world, don’t we? In fact, we have nothing but time. So how about we spice up our slice of eternity with a little of your flair for the dramatic, and have you take center stage?
The day you and Koyanagi-kun were downed by low-pressure migraines at the same time somewhere in the mountains, and we had to follow one of your goggle-clad cats to pick you up. The day you danced away a miserable downpour until the skies cleared, and were consequently downed by the flu for a week.
All the stories you can remember, until you run out of memories to share. A fair trade for an amnesiac, I’d say. A thousand nights, a thousand stories. How about it?
Rubechi could use a good bedtime story now and then, y’know~
ROU
[arms crossed]
… Don’t drag me into this.
RUBE
So boring! Soooo mean~ Ittetsu, go!
TETSU
W-w-what am I, Tetsumon?
Uwawawa, okay!! Here goes!!
ROU
[exasperated; would profess to being (at most) 5% fond at these dumbasses' shenanigans]
The hell are you two up to this time…
TETSU
[Tetsu used Puppy Eyes on Rou-kun! It was… w-was it effective?!]
ROU
[used to it from Rube, but stunlocked by a surprise attack from Tetsu]
You, you, you…Don’t give me those eyes.
Stop. Stop it. Oi. The door’s right there, seriously. W-what’s stopping me from leaving, huh.
RUBE
But if you leave right now, who’s going to stop me from telling all the little juicy details about little ol’ Ko~ya~nagi-kun?
That one sweltering day we shared on Okinawa’s brilliantly blue shores—we’d completed the exorcism in record time, so we could enjoy the lodgings they’d covered for us at our leisure. At the gift store, I’d made my strategic escape to the restroom, leaving you with a starry-eyed Kagetsu, and a giddy Rai.
At this point, you didn’t know who got it into their heads that you were “all bark and no bite,” but they’d started becoming serious menaces. Knowing you—secretly the world’s biggest softie—they’d piled your arms with tacky souvenirs.
Even when far from home, all they could think about was sharing the sights with their good pals Ittetsu and Mana; Kagetsu’d even emptied half the store’s lollipop supply in order to enact his…anti-smoking campaign? No, seriously, what was with that…?
ROU
[head in hands]
You, you… How about the time you jumped into the deep end to save a sinking civilian, only to end up half-drowned yourself? Idiot. How the hell do you forget that you can’t swim, huh. I had to haul your sorry ass to shore myself.
RUBE
[smirking]
Ehhhhh? You say this, but you’d cried for me. Worried sick about lil’ ol’ Rubechi?
TETSU
[sweating; looking back and forth between Rube and Rou like it’s table tennis]
…
ROU
Hah? Who told you?
RUBE
[smirking x 2]
What, not even going to deny it?
Ahaha. But we’re hogging the spotlight, aren’t we. Ittet~su. Isn’t this your story?
I remember. You told me, once. About your favorite, recurring dream. The dream where Mana painted your skies the brightest shade of blue you’d ever seen; where Wen made colorful pink clouds bloom like flowers across the horizon, and Rito? Well, he’d brought you the sun.
TETSU
[fondly]
… Yeah. That’s right. He did.
I turned to look at him, one sleepless night, and his cheeky laugh—his stupid smile reminded me that dawn was coming, surely. So I didn’t have to worry—that the night would never end. Because the sun was already by my side.
A loud-mouthed star had descended to earth—and chose me, of all people. Isn’t that crazy? Isn’t that wild! Love is a choice, and—and he kept choosing me, a thousand times over.
Well! Thank you. Rube-kun, Rou-kun. For telling me your stories. I think—the best place to start is the beginning. Kinda obvious, right? But simple is best. That dream of mine used to be so damn cold, seriously!
Hey, hey, hey. Did I tell you guys that my favorite dream used to be my worst nightmare?
*
One day, I think this ephemeral happiness will ease the ache of parting—yeah, that’s right.
A hundred years in the future, Saiki Ittetsu will fiddle with his favorite pen, oblivious to the ink stains on his cheek.
(Later, Rou’s cat-like companion would hop right up onto the antique desk. According to Rou, they had a soft spot for him? What was this, cat-to-cat communication? Tetsu would stare, incredulous, as their sandpapery tongue licked away at his cheek. … Hey, wait a minute! D-did they just… turn up their nose at me?! Like I’m some sort of misbehaving kitten…?!
Et tu, otomo?! At this rate, the cat allegations would never end. Let a man live, seriously!!
Rou, who’d been supposedly idly scrolling on his phone, would try and fail to stifle a snort at the sight of his prideful companion, and poor Tetsu, cowed by even a cat. Meanwhile, Hoshirube, who cared little for trifling things such as tact, would laugh himself silly, wheezing with the sheer force of his amusement.)
On sleepless nights, when the sky is clear enough that he can count the stars—a thousand precious, gleaming pearls stitched straight through infinite, ink-dark velvet—Tetsu likes to slink out to the balcony, where Rube’s telescope is waiting.
He spins around until he’s breathless with laughter, and flings his arm to point at a random point in the starry sky. … Ahhhh, geez!! I look…so damn stupid!!
(Tetsu had been pretty sure Rube’d been pulling his leg; after all, he’d told Tetsu about this urban myth with a particularly slimy smile. No, seriously, he really didn’t trust that shit-eating grin for one second!! Hahaha, Itt~etsu, your reactions, heh, seriously are, ahahah, the best…! I’ve always loved cat memes and cute things, but I think your startled face really takes the cake~?
Itettsu had mentally filed no less than 15 complaints. If he had a tail, it would’ve puffed up in indignance. …Oi, Rube-kun…what’s with that, seriously?! Cat this, cat that—don’t go lumping me in with the feline kingdom! And don’t go making me a meme on your own!! )
… But for once in his life, Rube-kun…hadn’t looked like he’d been joking. The playful smile that usually danced across his ethereal, otherworldly features faded, if only for a fleeting moment.
Did you know? Over the course of billions of years, most of the elements of our bodies were formed in stars. Soooo, if you think about it…we’re all made of stardust~! Our bones will one day form the stellar skeleton of some distant nebula, glittering in the night. Maybe it’s just to make myself feel better—less of me being a romantic, and more of my own self-satisfaction.
Even so! I’d like to think that when people die, they become stars in the sky. I think it would be a little like coming home. Ahaha. I quite like the sound of that.
…When the moon is at its fullest, a strangely familiar voice rings across the forefront of my mind, forming ripples on long-undisturbed waters. That voice… usually sounds like he’s trying to reach me from twenty-thousand leagues under the sea, but on nights like these—he sounds clear as a bell; clear as crystal. Whenever the endless galaxy threatens to swallow my infinitesimal consciousness whole, snatches of boyish laughter echo through my ears like fleeting flickers of sunlight.
Hm. It takes a lot longer for the light from distant stars to reach us, right? That’s why they say that when you look at the sky, you’re looking into the past. If I peered into the infinite abyss—that all-devouring universe—once more… I wonder what I’d find?
… But I’d rather not risk that vast expanse wiping my mind clean twice over, just for the sake of satisfying a moment’s curiosity. I suppose I’ve gained too many precious memories to toss away, just like that—-I guess you guys have infected me with your hopelessly sweet sentimentality…?
There’s a dream I keep having. A boy looks back at me, shimmering like a midsummer mirage—more haze than human, more fever dream than flesh and bone. I can never recall his name. He’s grinning so sweetly, so innocently… And yet his gaze tears straight through me with the deadly precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. I realize, then. That he has my airy voice, and he has my devilish smile.
(Or is it the other way around? Stealing his name, stealing his face, stealing his body. Am I the greatest, grandest thief of all?)
… But I’m rambling again, aren’t I~? Go on, then, Itt~et~su. Pick a star, any star, and play pretend. That’s what your beloved rakugo’s all about, isn’t it? You can call that cheerful-looking constellation Oriens, and christen any galaxy you want with the names of your dearest friends.
On a sleepless night, call their names, one by one, and tell them all about your day. About the ugly-cute snail you saved from oncoming traffic, the neighborhood strays that’ve somehow become your fluffy, four-legged minions, the updates to your favorite cigarette brand’s packaging (derogatory), the latest rising star at the local yose (laudatory.)
Somewhere in the universe, somewhere in that starry sky… I’m sure they’re listening with a smile.
… Haaah. It’s a fatal moment of indulgence, that’s what it is. Whenever his head starts to spin—mired in an endless spiral of self-doubt—he chases the golden glow of a distant, burning star. No matter how desperately he tries to catch up, it dangles right beyond his grasp. A thousand light years away: taunting him, teasing him.
That ever-infuriating sun winks at his witlessness, and wheezes out a cawing, cackling laugh.
Just like always, it goads and guides him through the endless, infinite dark. Drags both his shortcomings and his strong points to light, and groans: oh, c’mon, Tetsu, don’t drag yourself through the mud like that! You’re way too aware of your faults, seriously—how ‘bout you forget about the way you tripped over yourself, and celebrate the way you sprinted to my rescue instead? Any moment later and I would’ve been a goner.
Pretty damn dashing—oi, don’t give me that look, I’m serious. D’you want me to call you my knight in shining armor, or what? Ha! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
Somewhere between the realm of sleep and waking, and beyond his grandest dreams—it’s there that Tetsu can practically hear that cheeky grin, shining through with three simple words. No doubt, that beaming bastard’s on the brink of bursting into laughter—right at his expense.
Smile, don’t cry.
A sunlit voice fills the air, stained sepia with bittersweet nostalgia. G-geez! E-easier said than done?! Rito-kun, seriously, isn’t that a tall order?! Saying tender words like that’s enough to make any grown man burst into tears, seriously!! Ah, damn!! I’ve always been an ugly crier—ahhh, look what you’ve done!
You’ve made a mess of me, just like always.
(It’s nothing like those picture-perfect dramas. Y’know, the ones where shimmering tears spill from the protagonist’s eyes like glittering jewels—the kind that can easily be wiped away with the dashing male lead’s handkerchief. Just a little spring rain, see.
Unfortunately, Tetsu’s always been the bawling kind. Snot and everything. More like—a sudden summer downpour. …Damn! It’s real fucking embarrassing, y’know!
Hah. Even so…! Even if it leaves him a bawling mess…isn’t it proof of their heartfelt affection?
One irrevocable truth: birds could fly, the sky was blue, and he would carry their enduring love with him into eternity.)
If love is a wound, then he’s willing to bear that indelible scar. If love is a wound, then he could almost picture it in full bloom.
The brilliant flowers festering in his chest—those cheerful sunflowers, those shining sword lilies—were on the brink of decay, that fateful day. Without that broad-shouldered gardener to coax their timid petals into showing their faces, without the warmth of the sun—what the hell was he supposed to do? With Rito’s passing, he had taken all the world’s colors with him—if only for a while.
Back when his heart bled anew, raw and weeping—gutted from the weight of grief—he took off running. He hopped on the last train for the evening with nothing but his weather-beaten wallet (a treasured gift from his grandfather) and his phone (an ancient relic from distant times, filling up with unanswered notifications from… Rube-kun and Rou-kun, probably. They were the only ones he talked to, nowadays.)
And then, Tetsu made some noise, just like always. It’s what he did best, after all. He screamed himself hoarse, praying the silent seafoam would swallow his words, somehow, and carry those syllables to a distant shore.
… Was that guy wandering the weather-beaten planks of the bridge overlooking the Sanzu River by now? Just like Orpheus, love would be his undoing. Seriously, there’s no way he wouldn’t look back; how could he not worry about the troublesome partner he’d left behind?
You muscle-brained idiot, you… ! Damn it, Rito-kun. I know. In a hundred years or so, come back to me, even if you’re reborn as… I don’t know, a mushroom or something. (Ha! You’d probably joke about the shape, wouldn’t you.) …Oh, wait. What if that actually comes true?! I take it back, I take it back!!
Please come back as a human. I’ll be waiting, alright?! Now and forever.
And if reincarnation isn’t actually a thing, well… I guess I’m just muttering to myself like an idiot? Business as usual, eh?
…Hey, Rito… if I tell you NOT to rest easy, does that mean you can still keep me company as a ghost, or something? … Dahaha, I can almost imagine you raising your fist at me for that; you’d chase me around the kitchen for nonsense of this caliber. Rise from the dead just to set me straight, won’t you?
…Man! How’re you gonna make yourself at home in my heart, and then leave me behind like this, huh?! I know. It’s a good thing you didn’t promise me forever—because you knew it’d only break my heart, huh. …Ahh, damn it! Fine. Fine! I g-guess this really is goodbye, isn’t it? For real, this time. For the last time…
Did you know? Every day by your side felt a little like flying.
Like a dream spun from sugar…but if this was all a dream, I didn’t want to wake up from the gentle illusion that had embraced me.
It used to be such a wild concept to me, y’know? That you guys thought I… deserved even a scrap of the kindness you guys showered me with, I guess. Even though I wasn’t as good at easing the tempers of prickly civilians as Wen, and… I didn’t have anything close to your strength, or Mana’s mood-making cheer…What was I doing here, really?
And yet. On the days that I drowned in self-loathing, you’d haul me to shore with a bit of friendly banter, anchoring me with a seriously profuse amount of warm praise. You reminded me, a thousand times over, why I’d signed up for this job without a second’s hesitation.
The thousand-watt grin Hana-chan fired at me (critical hit!) when I said she could pet my goggle-clad cats while I bandaged her scraped knee; I’d never seen a kid’s tears dry up so quickly, seriously.
The sheer relief that shone on Minamoto-san’s face—the teary smile she gave me when I told her I’d carried Katsuo-kun to safety, yes ma’am, he’s with the paramedics right now, if you’d head right this way—I remembered, then, that if even my trembling hands could save one person…I had to keep going.
Rito. You left such brilliant flowers blooming in my chest, each petal nurtured with the warmth of your stupidly smug smile. I guess such a vibrant garden’s proof of all the colors you guys painted me—you, Mana-kun, and Wen-kun coaxed me from the cocoon with such gentle hands. It was only thanks to you guys that I could take to the sky.
Maybe you could call it metamorphosis.
Maybe you could call it love.
… Don’t you worry, now. I remember my promise. Y’know how some people keep an album of preserved flowers? I’ll engrave your lives, your laughter so deeply—that no reader would dare forget. I’ve long pressed them all to the pages of my heart, after all. Dahaha, well…? If you put it like that… In a sense—isn’t our story just beginning?
*
*
*
Oi, did you really think: that’s where it ends?
C’mon, reader, have a little faith in Tetsu, won’t ya? I know that guy better than anyone—he’d never want these golden days to end. As long as this tale never reaches its conclusion—in a sense, maybe I’ll never die.
… So! How was our story? Did you at least have a chuckle at our one-of-a-kind idiocy? Grin a little at our stupid-ass shenanigans? Shed a tear or two at this classic, heartrending tale of star-crossed lovers? Ah, damn… It’s not like a bridge of magpies could transcend life and death to bring us together, just like the flowery folktale of Tanabata. Hell, it’s not even July.
But whenever the skies are clear enough that he can count the stars, Tetsu—ever the sap—still talks to the cheerful-looking constellation he calls Oriens, even if he’ll never receive a reply. Somewhere, they must be laughing, just like always. Somewhere, they must be listening…
Haaah. What a stubborn, lovesick idiot. But he’s my idiot, y’know.
Hey, Tetsu…I want you to know. One day, if I am reborn again as a human…Just know that there’s no grand utopia on heaven or earth that could sway me, alright? All I want is to be by your side. Isn’t that the closest thing to paradise?
Until then, I’ll watch Tetsu pick up a pen that’s seen better days, and resist the urge to wipe the ink stains from his cheek—what I’d give to smooth out the sleep marks on his forehead, seriously. Pfft.
That’s a little souvenir from dozing off on Rube’s antique desk. Huh. Come to think of it…I’d seen him slam his hands on that polished surface once or twice. What, is this payback from an inanimate object, or something?
(Damn. Look at him go. He’s rolling around on the ground in frustration—writer’s block again, huh?)
…Look after that idiot for me, reader. Alright? That’s all I ask. Just one last request from the world’s sexiest hero, Rito Usami.
Eh?
Still there, aren’tcha?
In the end, how about we go back to the beginning? Indulge me, just this once, and bear witness:
A hundred years in the future, Tetsu begins to write.