Chapter Text
:: chapter 1 - destination
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The house was a mess. Boxes (poorly) taped were lying around, alongside a lack of decor. Family portraits that once filled the wooden walls of the Kyan household were now stored in brown boxes, all identical to each other. However, the emptiness of the house contrasted the uttermost chaos currently undergoing the Kyan family.
“Nanaka, Chihiro, give your sister her phone back!” Masae Kyan, the mother of the house, shouted in response to her twin daughters scurrying away from Koyomi, her eldest daughter.
“Yeah, you little shits! Give me my phone!” Koyomi cockily shouted, clearly having her patience overly tested.
“Koyomi, language!” Her mother shouted back, instantly followed by mischievous giggles from the twins, further agitating Koyomi.
Amongst the chaos, Reki Kyan, the eldest (and only) son of the Kyan household sat in his room. It was 3 months ago when his mother announced they’d be leaving Okinawa, the island he called home for 17 years. Reki sat silently, his eyes drifting around the unrecognizable wall that was once covered with skateboarding posters. His eyes then drifted to the spot where his desk once stood, the desk that would always be cluttered, no matter how often his mother bugged him about it. The “clutter” would always consist of skateboard designs, the majority of which he drafted, while a small percentage of them would make it to his workshop and become a design he would so proudly bloat about. The emptiness was awkward–it made him feel awkward.
“Reki, get out here now!” His mother yelled from outside the house, impatience bleeding through her voice. Their flight was scheduled two hours from now, hence the chaos in the family. The empty room that engulfed Reki was unfamiliar to Reki. Years of memories that once covered the walls and flooded the floors were packaged, ready to be thrown away. It hurt Reki, it really did but he’d already acknowledged his lack of power in the situation. So, with a heavy heart, and legs, he walked towards the door. His body urged to leave, fearing his mother’s impatience, but his mind wanted to cry. Reki wanted to cry.
He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay in Okinawa, he wanted to stay in the familiarity, he wanted to stay so badly. Turning his head away from his now-empty room, he walked out the door and refused to look back. Looking back would hurt too much and he wasn’t ready for it. He walked towards the car, where his mother’s inaudible anger flooded his ears, yet he paid no mind. The house he’d grown up in for 17 years left his sight as they turned the corner. The move felt so sudden, but he stayed silent. Complaining wouldn’t do anything at this point–it was inevitable.
The car ride consisted of the four children bickering alongside crabby scolding from Reki’s mother. Reki, sitting in the passenger seat, allowed himself to peacefully (besides the miniature warzone in the backseat) scroll through his phone. He looked back at the photos and videos taken just yesterday when his classmates threw him a goodbye party. Cracking a smile onto his face, his phone lingered on the specific photo of his classmates bundled together with a sign spelling out “Goodbye Reki!”. The sign was written in English, which was something he was confused about and asked his classmate for reasoning.
“It’s in English because you’re moving to Canada, dude!” His classmate responded. In the moment, Reki brushed off the thought of having to speak English and enjoyed the moment.
He enjoyed the company of his friends, even though the connection wasn’t as strong, he still had fun. Reki had plenty of friends, and he’d miss them dearly, yet he lacked a true connection, a deep connection. It never truly crossed his mind, but the thought was always there, lingering. Reki wanted to feel love. It was silly, he knew that, but the thought lingered. He’d push it to the back of his mind, feeling it most whenever classmates would announce their newest relationship, but he’s an expert at pushing away thoughts. It’s better that way, especially without the drama of relationships, he’d think to himself whenever the thought sparkled. It really was just a stupid, stupid thought.
Sitting in a car on the way to the airport where he’ll be sitting in 3 different airplanes for over 17 hours initiated realization. Reki realized the extent that this move would bring into his life. Language, people, and even socializing were all aspects regarding the move that Reki hadn’t properly analyzed. Reki thought of the language barrier he’d have to face and recollected his own experience with the English language. Nothing. Sure, Reki had taken the required English class for nearly his entire school life, but his textbook knowledge–which was already lacking–certainly wouldn’t be enough to prepare him for real conversations with locals.
Reki kept his worry to himself, not wanting to increase the stress and clear annoyance on his mother’s face, yet it gnawed on him. His worry expanded, and eventually the language barrier became the least of his worries. What about friends? How would he possibly make friends coming in so randomly? How would Canadian teenagers react to someone like him? What if he does or says something offensive by accident and ruins his entire social life? What if-
His worries were interrupted by the car coming to a sudden stop. Reki turned to the driver's seat, seeing his mother exit the vehicle. He then looked outside his window seeing that they arrived at the airport. His mother rushed the children out the car, Reki followed closely.
The airport was grand, and Reki lost his breath for a few seconds. His state of awe didn’t last long however, as his mother continued to rush him and his sisters in fear of missing their flight. Rushing through the terminal, Reki quickly scanned around. He saw tourists, locals, people dressed in suits, people who looked as if they were on their way to a slumber party, all sorts of people. The diversity eased his nerves, it reminded him of ‘S’.
The Kyan’s finally arrived at their gate, where they stood in line awaiting their boarding. With just enough time to ponder, Reki reminisced about ‘S’, the most intense skateboarding race without any concrete rules. The oddly comforting feeling he felt as he’d speed down the dirt tracks with his racing opponent not far behind. He’d miss placing his bets on the newest skaters, the joy on a customer’s face after he revealed their skateboard that he’d created with so much care and effort. He’d miss his former manager, Oka, and his stupid fox, Sketchy, that would always bite him whenever he’d get too close. He’d miss all of it, and honestly, he wasn’t ready to leave yet.
Their flight to Canada would consist of two stops, one in Tokyo and one in Toronto. The flight currently being taken would take him to Tokyo, hence it only being 2 hours long. The short flight eased his nerves as he and Koyomi found their seats behind their mother’s row, which he confirmed through the seeping burgundy hair in between the seats. With Reki and Koyomi being seated next to each other, the two bickered until they were finally shushed by their mother, leading to a defeated pout coming from both siblings.
The plane aisle consisted of passengers finding their seats and storing the baggage, which was quickly completed and followed by the pilot announcing information regarding the flight. The flight attendees took their seats and the plane began to move. It rode down the runway and would soon go into the air, sending the Kyan’s to Tokyo.
“Canada? Why Canada?” He asked his mom 3 months ago when she broke the news. Reki never expected to move away, much less to a country like Canada. He definitely doesn’t have anything against Canada, but it just felt so different. Canada and Okinawa were practically opposites. Okinawa was sunny and tropical, while Canada was snowy and cold. Reki hated the cold, hence his love for Okinawa and doubt towards Canada.
“Well, I recently got a job opportunity and they’re offering to pay 5 times what I currently earn, but they’re based in Quebec.” His mother responded, which she was soon met with pleading against the move from Reki's three sisters who also shared their love for Okinawa.
Reki was never good with geography, but he soon learned that Quebec was nearly the easternmost province of Canada, expanding the distance from Okinawa. He never negatively talked about the move, not wanting to make his mother feel bad–but also not wanting to acknowledge it altogether. The realization of its extent was yet to hit.
After a boring two hours, they arrived at Tokyo. Exiting the plane, the Tokyo airport came to light. It was nothing compared to Okinawa. It was ginormous and there were people of all kinds flooding the terminals. Signs of all languages filled the airport lobby, Reki mesmerized by it all. He was instantly immersed into the bustling atmosphere of Tokyo, not having any realization of the obvious awe across his face. However, Reki’s mesmerization, like before, merely lasted a few seconds before he was being dragged to their gate by his mother, who once again feared missing their flight.
Unlike the flight from Okinawa to Tokyo, the people at the gate were different. Just behind Reki, two men were speaking in perfect English. Canadians, Reki thought to himself. He listened and he sighed. He could barely make out what they were saying. He caught a few words such as “think,” “tomorrow,” and “maybe,” but still had no clue what they were even conversing about.
The announcer then called for boarding, and a swarm of passengers stood in line. Reki looked around, and only a handful of Japanese passengers were boarding the plane. English flooded his ears and he couldn’t understand any of it. He tried, he really did, to at least make out a few sentences spoken by the lady standing in front of him, but he simply couldn’t.
His unspoken concerns lingered in his mind as he took his seat on their second flight of the day. This flight would take them across the Pacific to Toronto, Canada. Reki’s nerves were certainly greater than they were before, especially considering the duration of the flight. The unfamiliar language being spoken worsened his condition, and he sank into his seat as his sister side eyed his posture.
“What can I bring?” Reki asked his mother 2 weeks before the move. The posters hung upon Reki’s wall and the years of skateboard collections were obviously coming with him, at least that’s what he believed.
“We have a limit, Reki,” his mother argued. “You can’t possibly fit all that clutter into a suitcase, don’t be ridiculous,” she claimed.
“It’s not clutter…” Reki mumbled to himself in defeat, slowly making his way back into his room. The years of memories and experience were all around him, and he was expected to just leave them all here and move across the ocean? Yeah right.
In the end, Reki solemnly stuffed his decor into boxes that would soon be taken away, treated like clutter. He was able to keep a few items: one skateboard and a few posters, but that was it. He took down his entire room, teary eyed as he stuffed his stack of designs into a box. His mom called him dramatic, but she just didn’t understand the memories attached to each little trinket. It hurt, it really did, but he was forced to continue, eventually having to rip the bandage off and hop on the plane that’d send him across the Pacific Ocean.
The plane began to move, just like last time. The pilot estimated a flight of 12 hours and 15 minutes, just enough time for Reki to be completely consumed by his own thoughts and concerns. The language barrier alongside Reki’s personal concern of making friends and connections continued to gnaw at him and the plane drove across the runway. The unfamiliarity that would be felt was also followed by curiosity. What would Canada be like?
Besides all the negative outcomes of Reki’s social life, he continued to hold hope–one of Reki’s greatest yet worst talents. Maybe, just maybe he’d meet someone. Someone he could talk to without a filter, someone he could spend his entire days with, someone he could maybe even love. It’s stupid, really stupid and he instantly cancels out the thought and distracts himself by staring out the window.
The plane finally lifts itself from the ground and begins to rise. The city of Tokyo is revealed. The unfamiliar scenery leaves Reki in awe, a feeling Reki has been experiencing unusually often lately. Reki takes one final look at Japan, his home, before the plane is finally engulfed into a cloud. He sighs, slouching back into his seat. He’s worried and scared, but he’s also hopeful. Hopeful that he’ll find a way to work things out, to finally find some stability in life. Sure, he’ll be separated by language and unfamiliarity, but maybe he’ll be connected by something much stronger and anticipated. Hobbies? Interests? Love? Perhaps.
Reki’s concerns are finally taken over by curiosity and hope. “I wonder what Canada is like.”