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With eyes glued to the TV screen in amazement, Eichi sat in his hospital bed. It’s not like there was anything else for him to do, given the recent regression in his condition; with as much as walking proving itself to be troublesome, he was practically forced to stay in bed, a pitiful fate for a child, indeed.
Frankly, a distraction like this was much needed; alongside his illness came the fear of death, which had, unfortunately, flared up alongside his symptoms. Even if Keito visited the other, Eichi would still end up in tears, mumbling things along the lines of ‘I’ll die soon, won’t I?’ or ‘I’m afraid, I want to live!’ and at that point, there was nothing he could do, save for repeating the same words of reassurance as before.
At least, he’d been trying to eat more, his usually untouched hospital meals ending up at least half-eaten, mostly out of his fear (but as long as there was progress, the cause was of no importance, or so he’d heard). Eichi had heard stories of malnourished people dying sooner, their weakened bodies wilting due to the lack of energy they’d normally receive. Though if it weren’t for that matter, he would have most likely continued with his little hunger strike; hospital food was completely boring and flavorless, after all! On the other hand, however, he noticed the nurses praising him far more often than before, and the amount of pills given to him lessening, which he proudly recognized as progress.
Nevertheless, there was so much a child with no autonomy over his body could do to aid his recovery; following the doctor’s orders was exhausting and restricting enough, yet still seemed to be far too little. Had Eichi had enough strength to oppose, he most certainly would have, maintaining his bossy attitude. But, of course, the directions were organized for a reason: Eichi’s poor constitution.
And so, instead of playing outside, like all the other kids did, he was limited to longingly gazing outside the window, hoping that he, too, could be just as unfettered one of these days. He observed all he could through the glass panes, learning the astral patterns of constellations, the names of the birds nesting right outside, and even discerning the faint outlines of mistletoe poisoning the nearby trees.
Eichi was particularly fond of bird-watching, yearning for just a fraction of their freedom; he wished to soar up into the sky and taste at least a fraction of their liberty, to experience the thrill of unlimited freedom, the feeling of strong wind disheveling his hair. Birds were so unrestrained, flying as they pleased, and yet, they were still so loyal towards each other; the boy was amazed. That was exactly what he needed; no more Tenshouin Zaibatsu, no more illness, no more being shackled to one place — just pure, unlimited freedom.
Unfortunately, however, Eichi was far from growing wings, being no more than a measly, sickly human — a pity indeed; had he been winged, he wouldn’t have to worry about his legs not cooperating. Having been given the short end of the stick since the very moment of his birth, he always longed for normality. No amount of chess games, sudoku and crosswords solved, or books read could ever compensate for the life that seemed to be slipping through his fingers all that time. It was frustrating to no end, to be caged like that, especially as a curious child.
When the boy had finally been permitted to watch the TV, everything changed; as if a switch was flipped, Eichi began to smile more, the shine finally returning to his big eyes. The cause was none other than idols, giggling, singing, dancing, encouraging, and interacting with their fans, Eichi included. The blonde had quickly grown attached to the concept of an idol, even beginning to consider it as a role for himself. To cheer up people like him, who had almost given up hope, to help them mend the holes in their worn-out souls — what a beautiful idea it was.
He had never felt as alive as now, when watching a magic show he randomly stumbled upon. The boy on the screen, with lengthy silver hair and violet eyes, couldn’t have been much older than Eichi, could even be his age, and yet, the lives they led were completely different; while the blonde was trapped, the magician was a free spirit, not much unlike the birds Eichi had seen from the outside of his hospital room’s window. Normally, he would feel some sort of envy towards the other noting his liberty, but this time, all he could feel was admiration for his very being, unlike the other kids he knew.
He would be a perfect idol, Eichi thought, with his focus slightly straying from the attraction in front of him. With that bright smile, graceful movements, and sole aura, not to mention the grandeur of his magic tricks, he most definitely would do well interacting with a big crowd. Besides, the silver-haired boy made him smile more than anyone else had in his entire life, and if that wasn’t a good indicator of his positive impact, then what was?
The performer, Wataru, as Eichi found out mid-show, presented tricks that were far from the ordinary ones he had seen in the past. These ones were far more complex, far more captivating, and somehow, more authentic (at least as authentic as a magic trick could be); perhaps, it was due to the utterly enthralling aura surrounding the performer, or was it the bright smile on his face? Whatever it was that he had, it drew Eichi’s attention more than the suddenly appearing roses did, keeping him fixated on the violet-eyed magician, instead.
He wanted to be there, on stage with Wataru, to be just as free and as cherished. Maybe, Eichi could just manage to make a new friend. Maybe, he could take his first step towards freedom.
✦✧✦
Another show came to an end. The director congratulated the performer in a flat and overly synthetic manner, clearly rehearsed and spoken far too many times to have as little as an ounce of genuineness to it.
Wataru quietly walked to his green room, paying no regard to his surroundings. He let himself plop down onto the couch and finally, finally drink some water. Frankly, he felt trapped; the general public, as well as his manager, had been expecting more and more as of late, to the point that even he had trouble keeping up.
He allowed himself a short break. After all, tomorrow and the day after would be spent learning new tricks. This time, however, he had no idea how to go on about it; he had successfully taught himself all a magician could know. How could he exceed his current abilities when there was nothing greater than what he had already grasped?
Wataru sighed and pressed the harsh plastic of the water bottle to his lips once again. He was alone and misunderstood; he was much too aware. Under everything pushed onto him, who was the boy named Wataru Hibiki?
Violet eyes stared at the ceiling, and he couldn’t help but wonder; was there anyone out there who could understand him and smile at him when he wasn’t performing, as well?
More than the applause, Wataru craved someone who would stay, even if he got worn out and unable to do anything. More than anything, Wataru needed a friend.