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“Karua… Karuaaaa!”
A loud call, urgent, with a tinge of petulance, and so tragically confused that it almost stirred something in Eito’s chest. What a rude awakening.
Eito sat up in bed with a sigh.
“Karua! Where’d you go again?!”
Judging by the muffled quality of the sound, it was coming from outside. The old fool must have wandered off again.
With another tired sigh, Eito got out of bed, then reached for his clothes.
He was in no hurry. Takumi was slow on his feet and never stopped shouting that name, his desperate call serving as a perfect sonar. Even when he’d escaped quite far from their home, Eito always managed to get him back safely.
“Karuaaa! Stop running away from me!”
“Shush already,” Eito grumbled to himself. He’d gotten less patient with age. Easily irritable. Even an illness as pitiful as Takumi’s couldn’t earn him a pass.
Following the persistent sound, Eito walked into the garden lit only by a few lamps and approached a familiar slouched silhouette of a monster.
Through the years Eito’s condition had not improved, nonetheless he’d found a way to live comfortably. In this remote little haven on the outskirts of civilization there weren’t many people to assault his senses with their vile appearance and putrid smell. Here Eito could live and write in peace.
Life of a hermit was perfect for Eito but there was one exception he was conditioned to make.
The monster heard Eito’s steps and tensed up. Even in retirement the old man had retained his sharp fighting instincts. But once he realized who was in front of him, Takumi’s hideous body relaxed and he gave Eito a stern look.
“There you are,” he grumbled as if Eito was improperly late for an important meeting. “Help me search for Karua! She’s run away again.”
Eito sighed one more time, thoroughly fed up with the same routine by now. It’s no wonder no one else would put up with the old man. Sure, he was a hero, recognized by many as a great leader and a peacemaker who brought hope to Futurum… But dealing with an old geezer as troublesome as Takumi was still a huge challenge.
No… Not a challenge, but a cross, perhaps. No matter how you looked at it, only Eito could possibly bear such a burden. He wouldn’t let any of their former comrades interfere—as once his right hand man, Takumi was his responsibility alone.
“Eito! Do you hear me? Have you seen Karua? She was just there!”
That said, the old fool was still as insufferable as ever.
“Karua doesn’t exist, Takumi,” Eito explained calmly.
He felt petty and… maybe only slightly vindictive for being woken up in the middle of the night.
Confusion flickered across Takumi’s face. Then, momentarily, fear. Then it settled on anger.
“Don’t be mean to Karua, Eito! She’s run away somewhere and needs help! Come on. Let’s find her.”
Eito’s lip twitched in irritation. But the pesky guilt had already settled in. He used to be more patient… Besides, even Takumi did not deserve such cruel treatment. Everything he did for most of his life had been for the sake of the people and, first and foremost, the Special Defense Unit. Which included Eito.
If he let himself forget something so important, he might as well be going senile too.
Lips crooked in a small accommodating smile, Eito nodded.
“Alright, Takumi. I’ll help you find Karua.”
Eito spared no effort searching around the garden for the person that didn’t exist, patiently waiting for a moment of clarity.
“Karua! Where are you?” He called out, without a trace of irony. Eito’s imagination was perfectly practiced for situations like these. If he believed enough that Karua existed, he could plausibly pretend she was real for the sake of a former comrade.
Suddenly Takumi stopped in the middle of a small meadow and blinked, confused. Eito froze as well, anticipating.
Takumi’s shoulders slouched a tad and a familiar air of weariness returned to his features.
“Again…” Takumi mumbled, taking in the surroundings, and then noticed his companion the second time. “Eito…”
The two exchanged a look and Eito’s lips curled into a smile on their own. Eito’s cognitive disorder was debilitating, but through the years his perception of Takumi had changed dramatically.
He had always remained a monster in Eito’s eyes, but his appearance, voice, smell… they simply didn’t feel disgusting anymore. Eito wouldn’t admit it out loud but they felt like home more than anything. Maybe it was Shion’s blood that they shared or maybe just years of constant exposure.
In any case, seeing Takumi—the real Takumi—made Eito feel at peace. Even now when this ugly monster was old and even more revolting and sickening.
“Welcome back.”
“How long was I out?” Takumi asked, an apologetic note in his tone that he immediately covered with a grumpy frown.
“Not long,” Eito lied nonchalantly.
Takumi simply sighed and roughly shook out his clothes, covered in dirt and crumbled leaves.
“It’s chilly. Let’s go inside,” Eito offered.
In the small kitchen he poured them some herbal tea while Takumi was spacing out at the table and then spacing out some more with a hot cup in hand before bringing it to his lips and grimacing.
“Tastes like garbage. How do you drink this crap?”
What an ungrateful man. Eito watched Takumi with half-lidded eyes, expression neutral as always.
“This will help you sleep.”
“I can sleep just fine without your slop,” Takumi grumbled but that only elicited a small chuckle from Eito.
“These halfhearted attempts don’t work on me, Takumi. Or have your withered brain forgotten that as well?”
The old geezer clicked his tongue. He was hilariously persistent, but these days his endeavors to make Eito throw him out had become a mere ritual with no real intent behind them.
Still, Eito could sympathize. The feeling of being burdensome was one of the most pathetic. And that all too familiar feeling was the reason Eito had to be the one to take care of Takumi now.
They sipped their tea in exhaustive silence before Eito took Takumi’s cup away and urged him to get up.
“It’s late. You should go to bed.”
“I’m not a child, leave me be!”
Eito tilted his head, brows slightly knitted in the familiar display of condescending pity. Anyone else making that face would probably send Takumi into a prideful rage and make the stubborn old man storm off, croaking how he was in no need of help or sympathy.
Yet Eito’s expression simply made Takumi’s nostrils flinch in mild disgust. Only natural—he’d seen that face a million times before since the days of their youth. That permanence made them equals.
Yes, only Eito was capable of fulfilling this task. He chuckled to himself at a short surge of pride the thought elicited. Eito’s own feelings always got in the way, it seemed.
“Go to bed,” he repeated casually in that same faux friendly tone Takumi hated so much. Tinted with age, it made Eito sound like a proper kindhearted hermit.
With a heavy irritant sigh Takumi got up. Now that the illusion had faded away, he looked weak again, his own age all too noticeable.
Eito followed a few steps behind and into the small bedroom. Takumi’s room was in disarray as usual. Lots of ancient DVDs back from the TRC scattered around among messy piles of wrinkled clothes. On the nightstand lay Eito’s latest novel with a bookmark in the middle, surrounded by three half-empty cups with different liquids inside.
Eito made a mental note to tidy up next time Takumi was out. But the old man barely went outside anymore, so seizing a moment had become harder lately. It would have been so much easier, if Takumi simply let Eito tidy his room without resistance. How troublesome.
Takumi got into bed, grumbling and swatting Eito’s attempts to help. He finally settled, propped on the headboard, and gazed out of the window with a deep frown on his face. Always sulking these days.
Eito watched in silence for a moment before taking a step towards the exit, but Takumi’s voice brought him to a halt.
“You have some nerve,” he spat out with contempt, leaving it to Eito to figure out the context.
The white haired man kept still for a moment before settling down on the side of the bed. The soft creak made Takumi shoot an indignant glance at Eito before looking down at his crossed arms. Still patiently waiting for a reply.
He knew he didn't need to elaborate, fully confident Eito would figure it out.
Eito’s eyes studied Takumi’s expression, then wandered around the room one more time.
Takumi probably slipped into his delirium while deep in thought, right here, in his bed. There’s not much the old man did anymore to lull himself to sleep so… either a movie or a book. Considering he addressed Eito specifically and there was only one book Takumi was currently reading…
“You’ve finished chapter 10, I presume?”
No reply. That must be it. Eito couldn’t suppress an amused chuckle.
“Did that really come as such a shock, Takumi?”
The red-haired man shot him a glance full of contempt.
“I’ve always known you were a freak.”
Ah… Moments like these reminded Eito why he was so infatuated. Even now, many decades later, there was never a dull moment with Takumi and his twisted mind games. The man was so hard to predict and even harder to coerce into self-reflection. He would look Eito dead in the eyes, make a statement with baffling levels of insinuation and never flinch, because the undertone escaped the speaker himself.
At least on the surface. And that was precisely where the game began.
An often one-sided, tantalizing, sometimes excruciating game that the white-haired man loved and hated in equal measure.
Yet Eito couldn’t be happier because Takumi played it with him and him alone. Their own, exclusive brand of bonding that no one could take away, ever.
“Freak? I’m curious which part caused such a strong reaction,” Eito coaxed.
“All of it!” Takumi replied, refusing to yield at first but one glance at Eito’s derisively raised eyebrow was enough to elicit more details. “The… the scent description, for example!”
Eito rolled his eyes, suppressing a delighted laugh. Takumi purposely chose the most timid part to address. Not that Eito hadn’t anticipated it. And, to be frank, that frustrating, vague veil of unspoken truths which always shrouded their conversations was part of the reason Eito enjoyed himself so much.
“Oh, but I didn’t go into detail…” He mused innocently. “So what put you off, I wonder. The overall candidness, perhaps?”
“Candidness?! What about that was genuine?”
Ah! Such a respected, dignified man of merit. Embarrassed like a highschool boy. How enticingly ugly. The corners of Eito’s lips twitched.
“I wasn’t dishonest. I’ve started to enjoy your smell long ago.”
“Don’t be gross!”
“We’re not in highschool, Takumi. It’s not gross, it’s only human.”
Takumi clicked his tongue, adding to Eito’s amusement.
“If you want to know, and I suspect you do, I can describe your scent the way I perceive it,” as he’d done many times before, changing and adding various details just to see Takumi’s face morph into amusing expressions.
Eito continued without waiting for a confirmation.
“It’s the odor of something decomposed and putrid, like rotten flesh of a corpse left in the sun for about a week or so. But there’s also a small hint of zest or some similar citrus fragrance. It’s so faint you really have to take a lungful to distinguish it.”
“Gross…”
“But that small hint changes everything! The longer you inhale, the sweeter the scent becomes. To the point you get addicted,” the disgusted response only laced Eito’s voice with excitement. If one disregarded the hoarse quality, they could imagine it now sounded more boyish. Teasing Takumi was simply that nostalgic.
“I suppose one’s sense of smell changes with age. Becomes more refined, able to take pleasure in more sophisticated and complex scents. Yours is, undoubtedly, my favorite. I hope I managed to convey that in my writing.”
“Managed?! It was blunt as hell!”
Eito chuckled, then could no longer hold in a laugh. Takumi watched with a sour expression. The white haired man tilted his head with youthful beguilement.
“I was worried that if I had been any more subtle, you’d have pretended to ignore it.”
Eito could swear Takumi was about to make an embarrassed face before he stifled it. But Eito’s teasing demeanor made Takumi fall back to their old habits and engage in banter anyway.
“I knew it! You wrote that chapter to spite me, as always!”
Eito’s smile mellowed. What an ego maniac. He thought everything Eito did was about him. Not so far from the truth but that weird fixation of Takumi’s also had its own magnetic pull. That game of tag was so addictive, in the end Eito never could give it up.
“Stop smiling, you’re creeping me out. I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that you admitted to enjoying the smell of a corpse or that you’ve been exposed to it so regularly you got used to it. Do you sniff me in my sleep or something?!”
Eito could almost imagine they were 17 again. Chatting away during those 100 days they’d spent confined together. But so much had changed since then…
“Like I said, we’re not in highschool. I don’t need any underhanded tactics anymore. I can just do this.”
Eito leaned in, bringing his nose to Takumi’s ear with a few of his messy strands tucked behind, dulled ginger with streaks of grey. Now he was purely playing on Takumi’s nerves, waiting for the grumpy old fart to push him away.
But Takumi only tensed up, holding his breath.
Taken aback, Eito’s brows twitched in an expression that could only be described as tender, before he deeply and audibly inhaled.
His nostrils were burning with the smell of rotting flesh, burning from pure, undiluted delight as Takumi permitted him to relish the scent.
Once his lungs were full to the brim, Eito exhaled with barely disguised pleasure and leaned back slightly, eyeing Takumi’s wrinkled face up close.
The old man was still frowning, lips pursed, wavering in a formless line, studying Eito’s expression for the signs of disgust and not finding any. His hideous, monstrous face was just as ugly as the first time Eito had laid his righteous eyes on Takumi. But by now he’d learned to love every feature of it.
“You’re creeping me out more than ever,” Takumi finally exhaled and Eito sat back with another chuckle.
Takumi must have been so lonely lately, if he let Eito get this close. It wasn’t the first time, but it was still rare. They say you mellow out with age so that must be it.
“For a second I thought you’ll throw up on me again,” Takumi turned his gaze out the window once more, lips almost pouting, frustrated with either Eito’s boldness or lack thereof. It wasn’t hard to tell but Eito loved the ambiguity. That coyness hadn’t dulled at all.
“You wound me, Takumi. The last time was more than twenty years ago. There’s no reason to claim I’m only pretending to tolerate you,” he replied, feigning grievance.
Takumi opened his mouth but stopped himself, lips now tightly pursed, but not with irritation. Eito’s gaze drifted along his features, taking in the barely noticeable shadow of guilt.
Ever since that girl passed, Takumi had rarely given himself permission to take a break from grief. Even when it had already sucked him dry.
“I’m tired.”
And just like that, the moment was over. Nevertheless, Eito still felt somewhat elated. Maybe a little mischievous even. It was his job to remind Takumi to take his mind off things—had been since that day.
“Goodnight, ugly Takumi.”
That actually elicited a short snort from the man. Eito smiled back before lifting himself off the bed. Takumi kept his gaze trained on the garden outside as his caretaker left.
Eito headed into his own room to finally get some decent sleep. He was hoping for at least a few days of relative peace.
***
“Karua… Karuaaaa!”
A loud call, urgent, with a tinge of petulance, and so tragically confused…
Eito sat up in bed with a sigh. The last episode was only yesterday. How bothersome.
“Karua! Where’d you go again?!”
Judging by the muffled quality of the sound, it was coming from outside. The old fool must have wandered off again.
With another tired sigh, Eito got out of bed, then reached for his clothes.
“Karuaaa! Stop running away from me!”
“When will you finally find your Karua and let me sleep,” he grumbled.
It had been a busy day and adding Takumi’s usual bullshit to the mix wasn’t Eito’s plan. Still, he walked into the garden lit only by a few lamps and approached a familiar slouched silhouette of a monster.
“Takumi, it’s the middle of the night. I don’t have energy to indulge you. Get back inside!”
As if sensing some impending threat, Takumi’s body tensed up. He glanced around quickly, like a cornered beast, and then, suddenly, dashed away.
Eito’s eyes widened. He hesitated for just a moment, before hurriedly following suit. Who knew the old man still had it in him.
Takumi sprinted away at a far greater speed than Eito anticipated.
“Takumi! Takumi, get back!” He called, a little out of breath as he chased after.
But there was already no sign of his former comrade. Had he escaped to hide somewhere? For a second Eito felt a small surge of panic, which in turn made an unpleasant, viscous sensation of self-loathing coat his thoughts. How was he supposed to find Takumi now?
Eito quickly forced the unnecessary feelings away and gathered enough concentration to plan his next steps. There were places Takumi was likely to go to. No guarantee that he would in that state, but it was a decent start.
He didn’t keep track of time but it felt like the search continued for hours. A little calmer now, Eito paced himself, slowly walking through the thick foliage of his wild garden.
An odd memory surfaced.
Upon request, Takumi once told him about those first 100 days at the Defense Academy. Naturally, Eito played a huge part as the villain of the story, but Takumi seemed more nostalgic about it than his right-hand man anticipated.
Too much had changed since school days and there was no more genuine animosity between them. They’d grown into their new roles as comrades so a story of the past—no, of the parallel reality—had nothing to do with their reforged relationship.
Reluctant at first, Takumi was soon weaving the story with enthusiasm and it was… honestly, it was fun to listen to! They even shared a laugh or two, despite the grim ending.
But right now the part in the beginning had come to mind. The story of how Eito left the Academy and got overwhelmed by invaders. Takumi organised a rescue party, went looking for his lost friend and saved him by the skin of his teeth.
Eito was marvelled by that part, genuinely. It sounded like straight up fiction. Naturally, the red haired fool loved that reaction and even started gloating but then his face darkened.
Takumi said he impulsively regretted saving Eito after learning of his true feelings on day 95. That betrayal, as he perceived it, was the reason he went back in time.
Only Takumi later realized he was incapable of making a different choice.
Right now Eito couldn’t agree more. This instinct was engraved into Takumi on such a deep level—by their cruel puppeteers back at the satellite or maybe by nature itself—that it was impossible to imagine he could have abandoned Eito back then. Even if he knew the truth.
Of course, it was only a story. The real Eito had no connection to it. And yet he felt a little bitter—towards that foreign version of Eito Takumi described, or the strangely complex look in the man’s eyes as he spoke about him. It would be no exaggeration to say Eito had spent years analyzing the story. Attempting to decipher the thoughts of that ‘Eito’.
Was ‘Eito’ disgusted by Takumi? Or was he happy to be found? A little bit of both, maybe?
Now years later, however, the white haired hermit viewed it differently. He’d long given up on questioning ‘Eito's’ feelings. Maybe experience of writing had distorted the way he treated stories in general.
And this was a story entirely about Takumi. A part of his legacy. A part of him.
After all, at his core Takumi had always been a man searching feverishly for someone to save. That urge, now having turned aimless, was manifesting in this uncanny pursuit of a phantom that had never existed.
“Karua!”
The sudden call startled Eito, bringing him back to reality. He turned towards the source and encountered the familiar silhouette of a monster in the night, adorned by garden foliage gently swaying in the night breeze.
It took Eito a moment to realize who the man was addressing.
“Karua! I found you!”
Eito stood frozen as the monster approached. The voice sounded weird somehow. He’d never once heard the man speak this way. Only when Takumi stepped closer, Eito realized he had tears in his eyes.
“It’s like you have a talent for getting lost,” Takumi muttered weakly, legs giving out as he almost fell towards Eito, embracing his caretaker desperately. Eito’s eyes widened, but he instinctively held onto the slumped figure.
“But I finally found you…”
Eito was still speechless, unsure of how to react, while the dull ache in his heart had already settled in. Just how bad was it now that the old fool couldn’t even recognize him properly? How bad was it going to get in the future?
Takumi’s body trembled slightly, probably exhausted by the strain the owner put on it, and Eito had to hold it tightly just to keep Takumi on his feet.
The faint scent of zest assaulted Eito’s nostrils far more furiously than the stench of a rotten corpse it was drowning in. For the first time he wished that tiny sweet aroma remained undiscovered. But as much as Eito craved it, he could no longer remember how to feel disgust toward this hideous monster.
“Don’t run away from me anymore, you hear?” Takumi’s voice made him glance down to face the man. His eyes were indeed full of tears. It was uncanny how childlike and innocent Takumi suddenly seemed.
“Promise you won’t run away anymore!”
Eito realized he needed to respond.
“Okay, Takumi… Yes, I promise,” he forced out, unsure if that was the right thing. But no other words would come.
Luckily, the old man seemed content with the answer.
“I’ve been searching for so long. You gave me a real scare,” he still sobbed, but was slowly calming down.
“I’m… sorry,” to his own surprise, Eito felt like he meant those words. Maybe his good imagination was to blame. If he believed enough, he could plausibly pretend he was Karua.
“It’s fine… You might be really good at getting lost, but I’m even better at finding you again,” Takumi’s voice sounded more cheerful now. “So, when you get lost, don’t be scared. I’ll always come find you again.”
While the underlying context should have disturbed him even further, for some reason the words made Eito genuinely smile.
“That’s… so corny, Takumi.”
Eito heard a chuckle and let out one of his own.
So many years passed and still Eito hadn’t grown any wiser since he’d heard that story. How foolish.
Still, this feeling of being found… It made perfect sense now.
Eito held on tightly, waiting for the inevitable moment of clarity. But even if it never came, Eito wouldn’t feel an ounce of pity that the prideful old fool hated so much. This was the selfishness that made them equal.
Ah… Yes. Eito truly was the only one suited for this burden. No, he’d never wish it on anybody else.