Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yoshiki was in his dream last night, and Hikaru can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s weird. He didn’t dream before he took over this body – honestly, he didn’t even sleep before – yet now it feels like he dreams almost every night. Not always dreams that make sense either – sometimes it’s these weird, formless shapes that swirl and shift hues in front of his eyes. Most of the time though, he’s pretty sure they’re the same sorts of dreams Hikaru used to have. Chopped up memories merged with new scenarios, or complete nonsense based on whatever shows he watches. Those dreams, he doesn’t mind as much. It’s the ones that are completely mundane he finds he doesn’t like – the ones where he doesn’t even realise he’s been dreaming until he wakes up, feeling all dizzy and heavy at the same time. At least that sensation’s fading the more he gets used to dreaming.

The one with Yoshiki last night, though – he can’t make sense of it. It’s why he’s staring at Yoshiki now, as he’s talking to the teacher at the front of the classroom while Hikaru sits at his desk.

It’s not like it’s the worst dream he’s had. Far from it. Just a weird one, that’s all. At first, they were just hanging out, walking around some green field aimlessly, but anytime Hikaru would look at Yoshiki, he’d change. Like he’d look younger, somehow, or there were bruises on his face, or there’d be tears running down his cheeks. Sometimes, when Hikaru looked, Yoshiki wasn’t even there. Yet the entire time, he could hear Yoshiki’s voice, echoing in his mind, pleading for Hikaru to listen to him, to talk to him, to smile at him. To just look at him.

Stupid. It’s all just stupid.

What is he going to do though? Hikaru didn’t talk about his dreams with Yoshiki, especially not these types of dreams, and if Hikaru tries, Yoshiki’s definitely going to think something’s up and that would ruin the whole point of him being here in the first damn place. He’s been playing Hikaru’s life for nearly three months now, and it’s been good. There's the food Mama makes for him and all the stuff he’s learning at school and the time he spends hanging out with Yoshiki. He didn’t get that before; he can’t lose it now.

“Hikaru!” Maki slams his hands down on Hikaru’s desk, startling him out of his thoughts. “What are we doin’ for yer birthday?!”

Hikaru blinks at Maki a second, because the words don’t make sense. Then it clicks into place, like the final piece in a puzzle, seamless as though it’s never been missing. For as long as he’s been Hikaru, he’s known his birthday is the 20th of March. He just didn’t know it.

“Huh?” He stretches, then props his head up, resting on one hand. “I dunno. Guess I’ve not really thought about it.”

The answer doesn’t appear to satisfy Maki, who folds his arms with a ‘hmph’, frowning, as Asako and Yuuki wander over to Hikaru’s desk. Yoshiki’s still caught up at the front, but he’s reached the point in the conversation where he’s only contributing some nods and an increasingly strained looking smile. He gets that way a lot with teachers. Must be talking about something to do with photography club.

“We gotta do somethin’,” Maki says, drawing Hikaru’s attention back towards what’s in front of him. “It ain’t right just to leave it.”

“Normally, we just go to Diner America for somethin’ to eat,” Hikaru says, shrugging. “‘Cause we finish school the week after. We usually do somethin’ bigger for that.”

This, too, is something he’s always known. Between exams finishing and the end of year ceremony, it’s easier to celebrate Hikaru’s birthday casually, keeping it small and relaxed. He just didn’t have to know it until now.

Maki’s frown deepens. “Still!” he says. “It’s your birthday, man! It’d be shitty if we didn’t do anythin’ for it.”

“We could go karaoke?” Asako suggests brightly.

“We went karaoke for your birthday,” Yuuki replies, folding her arms. “What’s the point in going again?”

“Awa, Yuu-chan, don’t be like that,” Asako whines, pouting. “Besides, it were fun, weren’t it?” Asako nods at him, smiling again. “Hikaru, you enjoyed yerself, didn’t ya?”

She’s not wrong. If he tries, he can find Hikaru’s memory of Asako’s birthday, back in December. It’s got the bright, bubbly feeling attached to it that he’s come to associate with fun. Yet while Asako and Yuuki sang giddy love songs to each other with exaggerated winks, and Maki and Hikaru belted out anime openings, Yoshiki had just sat in the booth, looking increasingly uncomfortable and ready to bolt the entire time. Somehow, at some point, Asako had convinced Yoshiki to join her to perform the most lopsided duet performance of Aitakatta ever staged, and he looked like he was going to be sick the entire time.

“We ain’t doing karaoke,” Hikaru dismisses. “Yoshiki hates it.”

The three in front of him exchange looks.

“What?” he asks. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Asako assures him hurriedly, holding her hands up like she’s been caught. “It’s just… well…”

“It’s just you said watchin’ Yoshiki tryin’ to sing was like watchin’ a kitten tryin’ to walk across ice,” Yuuki says flatly. “And that you’d pay good money to see it again.”

Ah. Well. Their Hikaru did say that. Hikaru can remember that now.

“I was joking,” he mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean – ah, Yoshiki!”

As Yoshiki approaches his desk and everyone standing around it, having finally escaped his conversation, Hikaru sits up a little straighter, smiling. It’s instinctive. Sure, all of Hikaru’s friends are fun, but this is Yoshiki, who makes everything feel bright and warm inside Hikaru’s chest. Of course he gets Hikaru’s full attention.

“What’re we talking about?” Yoshiki asks, standing next to Asako. Something flickers in Hikaru at the sight, rough and burning, and he has to stop himself from frowning. He wants Yoshiki to stand next to him, but he can’t say that.

“Hikaru’s birthday,” Yuuki tells Yoshiki. “We’re tryin’ to figure out what to do for it.”

It happens so quickly Hikaru almost doubts it. He’s not sure if anyone else catches it. Maybe the only reason he does is because he hates looking away from Yoshiki. But for a single moment, Yoshiki freezes, like he’s been turned to stone.

Then he exhales, slowly, nodding the entire time.

“Right,” Yoshiki says. “That’s… your birthday. On Friday.”

“Well, yeah, dude,” Hikaru says, watching Yoshiki as Maki sniggers. “Same day as every year. It ain’t changed.”

Hikaru’s still not great at reading facial expressions. Yoshiki’s especially hard to read, but there’s enough of Hikaru left to help Hikaru place this face. Pale, eyes wide, but mouth all twisted. It’s the one Yoshiki makes when something’s upset him but he doesn’t want to say it. Like when he’s eaten something he doesn’t like, but he’s trying to be all polite about it.

He makes that face a lot, these days.

Asako notices Yoshiki’s face too, but she laughs, elbowing him.

“Did ya forget to order his present or somethin’?” she asks, giggling, before leaning towards Hikaru conspiratorially and adding in a stage-whisper; “I bet he ain’t even picked it out yet. He always worries about it bein’ perfect.”

“Does he now?” Hikaru grins, enjoying the way Yoshiki’s face is flushing red. It’s better than what it was doing before, at least. “Fussy, ain’t he?”

“Good job I got yer present sorted ages ago,” Maki says. “I thought ‘bout getting you a compass, in case you get lost in the mountains again – ah, Yoshiki!” Maki barely dodges the jab aimed for his stomach. “What the hell?!”

“Ain’t funny.” Yoshiki glowers at Maki, and makes to swat at him again.

“Hey!” Maki jumps away, scowling. “Geez! Yer more upset about it than Hikaru and he’s the one who got lost in the first damn place!”

Maki’s right – Yoshiki does get all funny and moody whenever someone mentions the week Hikaru went missing, or even when he tries to bring it up himself. Hikaru just laughs it off, claiming he can’t remember. It wasn’t really him who went missing, and he’s pretty sure their Hikaru would do the same, if he hadn’t died.

“Ain’t. Funny,” Yoshiki repeats, before he clears his throat. “I didn’t forget, for that matter. An’ I ain’t that fussy. Just… not had time to look, that’s all. What were ya thinkin’ of doin’ anyway?”

“Karaoke,” Asako says. “But Hikaru ain’t keen on it this time ‘round.”

Yoshiki’s eyes flick over to Hikaru, but only briefly. He doesn’t even catch Hikaru’s gaze before looking away again.

“Could always do the cinema,” Yoshiki offers, but it doesn’t sound quite right. Not to Hikaru’s ear, even if he can’t explain why.

“Nah,” Yuuki says, shaking her head and jabbing her thumb in Hikaru’s direction. “This one’ll only fall asleep. An’ there ain’t anything good on.”

Hikaru frowns at that, because he hasn’t fallen asleep once during a movie, not even the old comedies Mama watches that he doesn’t quite get. Before he can protest, the bell goes for the end of break and their history teacher, Okada-sensei, appears, looking vaguely harried. Everyone moves to their seats, away from him, so Hikaru sighs, turning to look out the window.

Outside, it’s perfect March weather, sunny and light. Good – it’s not raining today. Hikaru’s found it’s one of the few things he doesn’t like, the sensation of raindrops on his skin. Not because it makes him cold or wet, but because it makes him think of being on the mountain, waking up in this body for the first time, and stumbling his way down on limbs he wasn’t quite sure how to use.

It’s kind of a miracle he didn’t damage Hikaru’s body, really. At least he's more used to it now.

Movement catches his eye – when he looks, Yoshiki is sitting down at his desk, one to right and two in front away from where Hikaru is. Hikaru smiles to himself. He prefers the lessons where he sits behind Yoshiki, so he can spend time looking at him without getting told off for turning around, even if all he can see is the back of Yoshiki’s head. It's not as good as looking at Yoshiki’s face, but he still appreciates the parts he can see; the side of Yoshiki’s jawline, the soft darkness of his hair, the way the shell of his ear curves just so. If he lets himself, he’ll look at Yoshiki’s soul too, flickering gently and all pretty amongst everyone else. Some days, before the lesson starts, Yoshiki turns around and looks at Hikaru, but never for very long – never long enough to be caught. It still makes something twisty and warm flutter in Hikaru’s chest, regardless.

Today though – today, Yoshiki doesn’t turn around once. Instead, he’s all tense, his shoulders taut and knuckles white around his pen as he stares straight ahead at Okada-sensei. It’s not right. Not for Yoshiki. Not to Hikaru.

Maybe he just forgot to eat breakfast or take his stomach medicine again. That would explain why he’s off, if his stomach is hurting; it's the reason Yoshiki usually gives when he’s like this, anyway. Hikaru sighs, and lets his mind drift back to the conversation earlier, turning to gaze out of the window again.

His birthday, huh? That’ll be nice. He’s never had one before.

Yoshiki’s in a snit for the rest of the school day, and it bleeds over to their journey back home afterwards. He’s all silent and closed off, refusing to talk properly and whatever answers can be pulled from him are terse and clipped. Sulky – that’s the word for it. He’s acting like a sulky toddler, like he’s been told to eat all of his bell pepper slices or denied his favourite toy.

Hikaru doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get any of it.

Some days, it feels like Yoshiki just wants as much distance between himself and Hikaru as he can get. Other days, it’s like being away from Hikaru would kill him. Hikaru can’t tell what’s gonna set Yoshiki off or not, and it’s not like looking at the memories would help. He got moody like this before, but only when Hikaru tried to talk about girls or Yoshiki leaving one day, and never for as long as he does now.

Is he doing something wrong?

It’s a thought that nags at him. Hikaru can’t stop staring at Yoshiki’s back in front of him as they walk their bikes along the dirt path. His shoulders are tense, pinched, and his back is too straight to be natural. Maybe he got upset because everyone else was there? Hikaru’s still not sure with Yoshiki, where the line between comfortable and uncomfortable falls for them. He’s not really sure if Hikaru knew. Still, now they’re alone, it probably wouldn’t hurt to try to get something out of him.

“Hey, Yoshiki?” he calls ahead. “What d’ya reckon we should do for my birthday?”

“Didn’t Asako suggest karaoke?” Yoshiki replies without turning around. It’s still more of an answer than he’s given to anyone since morning break. “Jus’ do that.”

“Yeah, but…” Hikaru frowns. “It’s pointless if you ain’t gonna like it. You won’t go.”

“It’s your birthday,” Yoshiki returns forcibly, like it’s a point he has to prove. He keeps looking straight ahead, not slowing down. “Of course I’ll go. I just won’t sing.”

“Ain’t that the whole point of karaoke?” Hikaru grouses, before he grins. “‘Sides, what if that’s what I want for my birthday? To hear your beautiful voice?”

“Then ya ain’t getting it,” Yoshiki says. “You’d be lucky to get dirt at the rate yer going.”

Hikaru scowls, a retort ready on the tip of his tongue, when he stops. For whatever reason, Yoshiki has abandoned his bicycle in the middle of the path and is now crouching down, clearly staring at something on the ground. Sighing, Hikaru puts his kickstand down so his bike doesn’t topple over, and walks over to join Yoshiki.

“Dude,” he says, picking up Yoshiki’s bike and putting the kickstand down. “Ya can’t just drop it like that, jeez. What’s so interestin’ anyway?”

Yoshiki beckons Hikaru over, but still doesn’t turn to face him.

“Look,” he says as Hikaru comes closer, his voice low as he points. “At the ants. They’re carrying a caterpillar.”

Hikaru crouches down next to him and looks. Indeed, right where Yoshiki’s pointing is a line of black ants marching across the path, a group of them carrying a pale brown caterpillar. How the hell he had spotted them, Hikaru has no clue. Why he’s pointing it out to him, Hikaru has even less of a clue.

“… they gonna eat it or something?” Hikaru asks.

“Naw.” Yoshiki smiles. There’s an amused lilt to his voice, but his eyes are obscured through his bangs. “They’re gonna look after it. They think it’s their baby.”

Hikaru blinks. “…eh?”

“There’s this butterfly… Niphanda fusca. It’s pretty rare but I’ve seen it around here.” Yoshiki gestures with his hand abstractly; Hikaru’s eyes catch on the movement of his fingertips. “The caterpillar mimics the chemical signals ant larvae would make, so the carpenter ants take it in and look after it instead of their own. They don’t realise it’s not another ant.”

There’s an uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck. Hikaru rubs at it as he watches the ants and the caterpillar disappear into the grass. “That’s… kinda creepy, ain’t it?”

“Only if you ain’t the caterpillar,” Yoshiki says. “It doesn’t eat the grown ants or anything; just takes their food from them for ten months and then pupates. An’ it secretes this stuff the ants like to eat, so they get something out of it too. But the caterpillar dies pretty quick, once it’s grown. It spends more with the ants than it ever does being a butterfly.”

“Huh.” Hikaru considers this. “Do ya think the caterpillar ever gets confused? Like it starts thinkin’ it’s really an ant an’ forgets to be a butterfly?”

There’s an odd look in Yoshiki’s eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he shakes his head. “Nah. It always pupates. Somehow, it knows it’s not an ant.”

Hikaru isn’t used to this feeling – his stomach is all squirmy and tight, and his chest and palms are all prickly, like the back of his neck. For the first time he can remember, he doesn’t want to be near Yoshiki. He wants out.

“…Hey, you ain’t gonna try and take some home are ya?” he asks. “Yer mam will go spare if you do.”

“‘Course not. I ain’t stupid,” Yoshiki grumbles. He eyes Hikaru for a moment, then shoves his head down. “C’mon. ‘fore we’re late back.”

“Wha’ – hey! I ain’t the one who stopped ‘cause of some bugs!” Hikaru protests as Yoshiki stands up. “Don’t think you can keep doin’ that!”

“Ya ain’t managed to stop me yet.”

“Just wait ‘til I’m bigger than you,” Hikaru mutters, getting up and going back to his bike. “Then we’ll see how much you like it.”

In truth – if Hikaru’s able to be truthful – he doesn’t mind it all. Yoshiki’s hand on his head, no matter how rough or brief, never fails to send a sort of soft, pleasant shivering throughout his body. It never feels the same when someone else touches him, or when Hikaru tries to do it himself.

There’s a lull as they sort themselves out. When Hikaru looks up from his bike, Yoshiki’s staring at him, like Hikaru’s an insect to be studied, his head slightly tilted to the side. Another moment passes, Hikaru staring back at him, before Yoshiki speaks.

“Listen.” Yoshiki’s voice is perfectly steady, but slow, each word’s weight carefully considered. “If you wanna do karaoke for yer birthday, just do it. Even if I don’t like singing, goin’ out with everyone is still nice. Don’t hold yourself back ‘cause of me.”

Here’s the thing; Hikaru wants to. Badly. He wants to squish into a tiny room with their friends, he wants to hear them sing until they’re breathless, and he wants to sing himself. Karaoke isn’t something he’s done, and he knows Hikaru’s memory of it won’t hold a candle to the real thing. None of the memories do. Everything Hikaru’s ever experienced is dull and muted until Hikaru lives it. So, yes. He wants to go to karaoke for his birthday.

He just wants Yoshiki more.

“… if we do karaoke with everyone, we can always do somethin’ together after, just us,” Hikaru offers. “Ya ain’t been over for a while, an’ you know my mama won’t mind if ya join us for dinner. We can play games an’ you can sleep over.”

Slowly, maddeningly, Yoshiki smiles at him. Hikaru’s breath catches in his chest. Yoshiki’s smiles – not his amused ones, but his real ones, the few he lets escape – are something precious. Hikaru covets them, like a magpie with silver. Every smile sent his way, he wants to steal and tuck away inside himself, hidden so deep he’s only the one who knows they ever existed.

“Sure,” Yoshiki agrees, his voice soft. “I’d like that.”

Hikaru grins back. “An’ you’ll come to karaoke?”

“An’ I’ll come to karaoke,” Yoshiki says, nodding. He turns back around and starts the walk towards Kubitachi again, wheeling his bike beside him. “I’ll even pay your entry fee for ya. An’ two drinks. That’ll be yer birthday present.”

“Yoshiki,” Hikaru whines, starting to follow behind him. “That ain’t a proper present! At least pay for all my drinks, c’mon.”

“Three drinks.”

“Yoshiki!”

The conversation doesn’t exactly flow after that, but it’s fine – Hikaru fills the silence by humming underneath his breath. Whatever tension Yoshiki had been holding on to seems to have left him, his shoulders and back relaxed now. Hikaru feels lighter too, almost buoyant with relief as he taps his fingers against his handlebar grips, smiling to himself.

Happy – that’s what he feels. Happy. Happy that he gets to have both. Happy that he even gets to experience this in the first place. Happy that he gets to be with Yoshiki at all, because being with Yoshiki feels bright and soothing, warm embers softly glowing inside his chest, comfortable and right. It’s unlike anything else he’s known before.

Maybe it’s the closest Hikaru will ever get to knowing what having a soul feels like.

On his birthday, Mama gives Hikaru two kisses on each of his cheeks. It’s smothering and it tickles, and he wrinkles his nose, but he can’t deny the fluttering giddiness it stirs in his chest, or the smile that creeps out on his face. He can’t deny her.

“Mama,” he whines, as she kisses his forehead. “I’m sixteen now. I’m too old for kisses.”

“You’re never too old,” she chides him gently, sneaking one final kiss to the tip of his nose before pulling away, smiling. “My baby boy. Happy birthday, Hikaru.”

He grins. “Thanks, Mama.”

It’s just the two of them sitting around the table for breakfast; Grandpa’s already at the shiitake farm, and he’ll probably be taking his afternoon nap by the time Hikaru gets home. Though Mama’s not the first person to wish him a happy birthday. When he woke up, it was to a text that Yoshiki had sent at midnight, simply reading ‘happy birthday. i’ll meet you at yours’. Hikaru hopes it’s because Yoshiki waited up just so he could send it, but he knows it’s just as likely Toshinori and Satoko were arguing again, and that kept Yoshiki from falling asleep.

“Oh, before I forget,” Mama says, getting up and disappearing into the kitchen. When she comes back, she’s carrying a present, carefully wrapped in bright orange paper. She holds it out to Hikaru. “Here you are, sweetheart.”

He takes the present from her. The paper it’s wrapped in is a texture he’s not touched before, all smooth and slippery, but creasing easily when he presses his thumb down. If Mama wasn’t here, watching him, he’d probably take the time to fiddle with it, exploring how it crinkles and tears, how the light reflects off of it, but he can’t keep her waiting. Instead, he slides his thumb underneath the tape to loosen it, then peels off the wrapping paper to reveal a leather wallet, sleek and black, and a small cleaning kit. Hikaru blinks a moment, then looks up at Mama, who’s smiling at him softly.

“It’s for the watch your daddy gave you,” she explains, tapping the cleaning kit. “You take such good care of it, but it won’t hurt to give it a good clean now an’ then.” Her brow creases slightly, her smile disappearing. “The wallet is meant to match with it, but I’m not sure if it does, now I look at ‘em together…”

Hikaru isn’t sure either – the texture of the wallet doesn’t match his watch strap, at least – but he finds that he doesn’t really care. It’s the first time he’s ever gotten a birthday gift, after all. He can’t remember ever getting something like this before.

“It’s perfect,” he says, grinning at her. “I love it. Thank you so much.”

He stands up, putting his presents on the table as he does so, and pulls her into a hug. Her arms come up to hold him quickly, and she pulls him even closer, holding him tight as she hums. Mama’s small, shorter than he is, but she always hugs him with surprising strength, like it’s the last time she’ll ever see him. Hikaru doesn’t really mind; her hugs bring the same fluttering giddiness that her kisses do, but tempered. After a moment, she pulls away, but keeps her arms looped around him loosely. There’s something in her eyes Hikaru can’t quite decipher, and her smile is softer.

“Your daddy would be so proud of you,” Mama says, almost murmuring as her eyes grow glossy, and oh. Of course.

This – this, he’s never sure what to do with. It weighs heavily inside of him, solid and cold, like it could crush him, but this feeling, whatever it is, isn’t right. He can’t do anything with it. Hikaru’s daddy died years ago, and for the humans around him – to his son – he only exists in memories, even though his soul is still somewhere out there. Hikaru doesn’t like going near those memories; it makes something sour twist in his mouth and his head feel all weird. They’re not his. Not like everything else Hikaru left.

“I know,” he says quietly. “Thank you, Mama. Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

Swooping down, he kisses her on the cheek, and Mama laughs, a little wetly, wiping her eyes. She’s wearing her usual perfume, the one that’s cosy and comforting to Hikaru. Light and fresh, clean, lotus and freesia, like a forest spring surrounded by flowers. The scent pervades in the memories; it’s the same one she used to wear when Hikaru was little. Hikaru’s daddy used to buy her a new bottle every year for her birthday, and after he died, Hikaru started buying it for her.

Right. He’s the one who ought to remember to buy her some this year. But her birthday isn’t until September, so he has time yet.

“Thought we were too old for kisses?” Mama says as she pulls away from their hug. She doesn’t look like she’s about to cry, thankfully. “Silly boy. Thank you, Hikaru. Ah – what do you want for dinner tonight?”

Hikaru smiles back at her. All of Mama’s cooking is tasty to him. She’s kept breakfast simple – just toast, eggs and sliced fruit – but it’s just as good as if she went all out and made a whole feast. The first time he tried her curry, he had nearly cried, he had liked it that much.

“Whatever’s easiest for ya. I ain’t too fussed, Mama,” he tells her, before he remembers. “Oh, but Yoshiki’s comin’ over… so maybe somethin’ that he likes?”

The corner of Mama’s eyes crinkle as she smiles, chuckling. “You know Yoshiki’s birthday ain’t for another month, right?” she teases gently, reaching up to brush through Hikaru’s hair. “I’m sure Satoko will make him his favourite then. Today’s about you.”

Hikaru frowns, shaking his head to dislodge her hand. “But he’s…” He trails off at the look on Mama’s face, her eyebrows raised. “Okay, okay, I get it. Can we have mapo tofu?”

It’s what Hikaru would have asked for, and it’s Hikaru’s favourite meal Mama’s made for him so far.

“Okay,” Mama agrees easily, nodding. “Mapo tofu. An’ I’ll go into town to pick up a cake as well. Strawberry shortcake?”

Hikaru perks up, grinning. He’s not tried strawberry shortcake before, but Hikaru’s memory of it makes it seem like a sweet, delicious thing.

“Sounds good to me,” he tells her, just as there’s a knock on the front door. He startles, then checks his watch. “Aw, shoot! That’ll be Yoshiki. Gotta get to school. Sorry, Mama.”

Mama sighs at him, shaking her head, and shoos him away. “Go on. Before you’re late.”

Quickly, he presses another kiss to Mama’s cheek before he hurries off, barely remembering to grab his backpack or to tie his shoe laces. There’s another knock by the time Hikaru is ready, and when he finally opens the door, Yoshiki is standing there with his fist raised, like he was about to knock a third time.

“Hikaru,” Yoshiki greets, lowering his hand down, his smile light but there. “Happy birthday.”

There it is again – that soft, cosy ember, glowing in his chest. How could Hikaru ever be mad at Yoshiki, when all he does is set this feeling alight?

“Thanks,” Hikaru says, smiling back as he shuts the door behind him. “Are ya ready for karaoke tonight?”

Yoshiki’s smile disappears. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he mutters, turning around and walking away. “Asako best not make me sing again.”

“I think Maki’s spent the week plannin’ an entire set list he wants to get through,” Hikaru says, following him. “So with any luck, ya won’t even get up on stage.”

Yoshiki mutters something about how that sounds exactly like Maki, which to be fair, it does. Hikaru hasn’t put that much thought into what he wants to sing. He’ll flip through the options and pick what he can recognise from Hikaru’s memories. Maybe he’ll join in on Maki’s set list. He grabs his bike, joining Yoshiki at the front of his house, and is just about to set off when a thought occurs to him.

“Hey, I’m finally as old as you!” Hikaru says, turning to grin at Yoshiki. “Ya can’t boss me around me no more!”

Something odd flickers over Yoshiki’s face, his mouth thinning, but it lasts for just a moment, vanishing quickly.

“For a month,” Yoshiki returns, but he’s looking at his bike, not at Hikaru. “Not like it matters much. It ain’t like ya listen to me.”

“Wha’ – I listen to ya all the time!” Hikaru protests, because he does. Yoshiki could read him the dictionary and he’d listen to every word.

“No, ya don’t,” Yoshiki huffs, getting on his bike. “Ya’d be way more sensible if ya did.” With that, he pushes off on his bike, starting to cycle down the road that leads to Kibogayama High.

“Yoshiki! Wait up!” Hikaru calls, hopping onto his own bike. “Ya gotta be nice to me! It’s my birthday!”

Yoshiki doesn’t slow down one bit as Hikaru pedals after him, but that’s fine – Hikaru likes treating it like a race, even if he knows Yoshiki will slow down for him when they reach Kibogayama. He always does. Hikaru starts humming again, smiling. Soft, morning sunlight warms his skin as the breeze picks up, gentle as it brushes against him, but not enough to chill him. Perfect birthday weather.

It’s going to be a good day.

School passes far, far too slowly for Hikaru’s liking. Normally, he likes his lessons, because they’re always something he didn’t know before, but today, he just wants it over with so he can go to karaoke as soon as he can. He can’t sit still, constantly tapping his fingers or shifting about in his seat. Still, it’s not completely awful – people keep stopping by at breaks to see him. All his teammates from the soccer club make a point to congratulate him, a girl from the other class stops him in the hallway to stutter her way through the greeting, and even Hara-sensei makes a point to wish him a happy birthday. He kinda forgot how popular Hikaru was, really.

Once school’s done for the day, they walk through Kibogayama together towards the karaoke bar, Hikaru taking care to walk as closely to Yoshiki as he can, as Yuuki and Asako walk behind them. Maki’s ahead of everyone else, bouncing and jumping down the street, vibrating with energy.

“Oh yeah! Karaoke time!” Maki yells, punching the sky. He stops dead, then spins back around and points at them, a fierce and fiery look in his eyes. “Everyone! Are ya ready to raise the roof?!”

“We’re in public,” Yoshiki scolds, batting Maki’s hand away as he walks past. “Behave yerself.”

“It’s karaoke, not a live house,” Yuuki adds as Asako snickers.

Maki falters, but recovers, huffing and folding his arms across chest as he shakes his head.

“Man, is the energy they always bring to yer birthday?” he asks, before grinning at Hikaru, all wide and proud-looking. “Don’tcha worry, dude. Ya ain’t ever had the Maki birthday experience before. It’ll be yer best birthday yet!”

Hikaru beams back at Maki, but it feels off, like it happens two seconds slower than it should have. Even walking beside his friends suddenly feels odd, off-kilter, as though his body isn’t matching with his movements properly, Hikaru’s voice loud yet muffled to his own ears as he tries to join in with whatever the conversation has moved on to. Maki’s words keep turning over in his head, refusing to leave, until something clicks.

Right. This time last year, Hikaru and Maki were still strangers to each other. They didn’t meet until almost a month later, two weeks after they both started at Kibogayama High. It hasn’t even been a year since then. So it’s the first time Maki is even able to celebrate Hikaru’s birthday.

Except he isn’t celebrating Hikaru’s birthday, is he?

Hikaru isn’t here. He isn’t the one who kissed Mama’s cheek this morning so she wouldn’t cry. He isn’t the one who spent all day waiting for school to end. He isn’t the one, here now, walking along with all his friends, planning what songs to sing and what snacks to share. That’s Hikaru. Does this even count, if it isn’t their Hikaru with them?

Somewhere, from deep within his chest, resonates a hollow pang. The back of his neck is prickling again. Carefully, Hikaru pushes whatever this feeling is away. He’s not here to think about that. He’s here to spend time with his friends, sing karaoke until he’s red in the face and celebrate his birthday. He’s here to have fun.

Simple as that.

The only karaoke place in Kibogayama is tucked away by the train station. It’s a small white building, with ancient sun-faded signs clashing against the vibrancy of the new promotional posters. Much like the rest of Kibogayama, it’s seen better days. Even so, Hikaru finds himself stopping to stare. One of the newer posters is for their fries, four different types, piled sky-high onto plates, all perfectly golden and crisp-looking. Just the promise of trying something new is enough to make Hikaru’s mouth water.

“Hey, Yoshiki,” he asks, reaching out and catching his friend by the sleeve before he can follow everyone else inside. “Do you think we can try those?”

He’s met by silence. When Hikaru looks, Yoshiki’s just staring at him, grey eyes unwavering, before he tips his head down slowly, to where Hikaru is still holding on to his sleeve. Part of his wrist is resting against Yoshiki’s arm, burning where flesh meets flesh. Right – right. Cheeks burning, Hikaru lets go, muttering a half-hearted apology, though he’s not entirely sure why Yoshiki’s looking at him like that.

“If ya want them, then sure,” Yoshiki says, turning away as he brushes off his shoulder. “But I dunno why yer starin’ at ‘em like that. They’re just fries.”

“‘Cause they look good,” Hikaru protests, a childish whine colouring the edge of his words. “An’ there’s four different types! C’mon, we gotta get ‘em.”

“It’s just a promotional gimmick,” Yoshiki dismisses. “They probably don’t taste that good.”

“Well, we won’t know unless we try ‘em,” Hikaru huffs. “Why ya gotta be so mean anyway? It’s my birthday! Ya gotta be nice to me. Ya gonna be mean ‘bout my singin’ too?”

There’s another pause, before Hikaru finds his head being shoved down.

“‘Course not.” Yoshiki says, as he tousles Hikaru’s hair. Is that lilt to his voice real, or is Hikaru imagining it? “C’mon. Everyone’s waiting.”

Hikaru brightens, a jolt of energy sparking up his spine. They haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.

True to his word, Yoshiki pays for Hikaru’s entry fee. Everyone else had given Hikaru their gifts at lunch; small, simple things he’s tucked away in his backpack to keep safe. Yuuki made him butter cookies, just the right balance of crisp and buttery, and Asako gave him a CD that he can vaguely remember Hikaru saying he wanted. Contrary to what he claimed before, Maki’s gift wasn’t a compass, but rather the latest volume of Master + Master, and a little keychain of Lin Xiang, Hikaru’s favourite character.

“Kinda lame to not actually get him anythin’,” Yuuki notes wryly once they’ve all paid, raising an eyebrow at Yoshiki’s reddening face.

“He’s payin’ for my drinks too,” Hikaru says, elbowing Yoshiki with a snicker. “Remember? Ya promised to buy all of ‘em for me.”

“I said three.”

Even so, Yoshiki pays for the unlimited drinks package, and when he catches Hikaru frowning at him, ends up caving and buying a melon soda float, alongside the coveted fries.

The actual karaoke room is small, everything all squashed together, sleek black sofas and a table at one, the karaoke set-up at the other. When everyone sits down on the sofas, their knees knock against the table. Hikaru doesn’t like how it smells either – all sticky and artificially sweet, but with a sour undertone of sweat. Nothing like Mama’s perfume. He thinks it might be the same room from when they went for Asako’s birthday, but he can’t say for sure. It’s not like Hikaru paid that much attention before.

Hikaru does pay attention, though. Despite the lack of space – despite the fact Asako and Yuuki are nearly sitting in each other’s laps – there’s a gap between him and Yoshiki, and Yoshiki’s careful not to brush against Hikaru as he sets the drinks down. No one else comments on it though, so he keeps the thought to himself, watching as Asako and Maki scroll through the song selection on the control tablet, heads bowed together, eager not to waste any of their two hours.

“Alright!” Asako cheers, just as Hikaru is about to take his first sip of soda. There’s a grin on her face that he’s not sure he can trust as she points at him. “Hikaru! Yer the birthday boy, so ya have to go first!”

“Wha - Asako!” he whines. “I ain’t even picked any song!”

“We picked one for ya!” Maki says, in what Hikaru thinks is meant to be reassuring. “Don’tcha worry! Just get up there and sing!”

There’s no chance of any sympathy from either Yuuki or Yoshiki, and really, it’s a relief to have his first song chosen for him, so he can just get into singing. As Hikaru takes his place at the front of the room, microphone in hand, he recognises the chords of Pretender starting up, and scowls instinctively, aware of Hikaru’s residual hate for the song at the cusp of his being.

“Really?” he asks.

“It’s a modern classic!” Asako insists as Maki cackles beside her. “Put yer heart into it, Hikaru!”

The lyrics appear on screen before he can protest further, so he has to start singing, even if he rushes the first few words. It’s actually not that bad. He’s not heard it before, because he’s not inclined to explore music the way he is with everything else. Maybe he should, because the way the sounds come together and blend into a song is fascinating. Yet the lyrics make something stir in his chest, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. It’s a love song, but not really – it’s saying goodbye to love, more than anything.

Why is it making him feel this way? All hollow in his chest instead of that giddy rush of fun?

The song finishes far too soon. What Hikaru wants to do is beg Asako to cue it up again, so he can sing it again, the way it deserves. What he does is give a theatrical bow towards his friends, grinning as they applaud, because that’s what Hikaru would do.

As Maki bounds up to sing some Kenshi Yonezu song, Hikaru slides back onto the sofa, next to Yoshiki. Briefly, their legs press together, before Yoshiki pulls away, slowly, as if he didn’t want Hikaru to notice. Hikaru grins again, but only for Yoshiki, his tongue pressing against the gap by his snaggletooth.

“So?” he asks. “How’s my singin’? Feels like I butchered all of the English words.”

“You butchered all of it,” Yoshiki replies, but he’s smiling, his soft, little amused smile. Not his real one. “It’s like ya forgot how to say half the damn words. Do ya hate the song that much?”

“…Nah.” Hikaru shrugs. He likes it a lot actually, but the thought of saying that out loud feels weird. Same way thinking about Hikaru too much or the way Yoshiki looks at him sometimes makes him feel weird. Instead, he picks up a fry and bites into it, the spice coating instantly hitting his tongue. “Oh, damn! These are good!”

Yoshiki just sighs and starts picking at the fries as well.

Karaoke is exactly how Hikaru remembered and how Hikaru hoped it would be: fun. Even with Yoshiki sitting on the sidelines, occasionally getting up to refill everyone’s drinks, can’t diminish the buzz in Hikaru’s veins or the grin on his face. It’s fun watching too – Asako goes into gigglefits at Yuuki’s serious face, and sitting through Maki’s rap-heavy setlist doesn’t bother Hikaru at all. Solo, duets, group songs – they’re nothing like he’s done before, and he lets himself be pulled up to the front to sing again and again, laughing. He croons along with Yuuki and Asako, and screams his throat sore with Maki. Whenever it’s his turn to sing solo, the sheer variety in choices is overwhelming, but he tries to pick songs he can recognise as ones that Hikaru liked.

Yuuki and Asako start belting out Usseewa when Hikaru collapses back down onto the sofa for a breather, aware of the light sheen of sweat on his skin. His melon soda float is long gone, replaced by a plain orange soda, thanks to Yoshiki’s diligence. When he turns to thank Yoshiki, he’s caught, suddenly, by the smile on Yoshiki’s face as he stares at their friends. Soft, but sure, and there. An idea sparks in Hikaru’s brain.

“Hey,” Hikaru says, breathless, nudging Yoshiki, jostling him out of his reverie. “Do Cruel Angel’s Thesis with me.”

“What? No.” The smile vanishes, replaced by a scowl. “I told ya. I ain’t singing.”

It takes a lot of effort to keep the pout off Hikaru’s face.

“C’mon,” he whines, inching just that little bit closer to Yoshiki. “It’s my birthday – it can be my present from ya.”

“This is already yer present.” Yoshiki gestures at the room. He’s not looking at Hikaru. “Not to mention yer drinks an’ fries. It adds up, ya know. Get Maki to sing it with ya.”

“Yeah, but…” Hikaru shifts in his seat. “I’ve already sang with everyone else – I wanna sing with you. An’ Maki will sing along anyway, so no one’s gonna hear ya.”

There’s a pause. Hikaru stares at Yoshiki’s profile – at the mole, just beneath his eye. There’s one behind his ear as well, and one hidden in the inside of his lip. Hikaru doesn’t get how Yoshiki can hate something that’s such a part of his body. Mama doesn’t hate her freckles, so why does Yoshiki hate his moles so much?

Yoshiki’s eye flickers as he looks out of the corner of it at Hikaru’s face. Sighing, he turns to face Hikaru full-on, his mouth set, shoulders slumping slightly.

“Just the one song?” Yoshiki asks.

“Just the one,” Hikaru promises, nodding frantically. “An’ I’ll sing so loudly, no one will even hear ya.”

Yoshiki looks away again, at the front of the room, where Asako and Yuuki are still singing. There’s a slight twist to his mouth, one Hikaru can’t decipher, before Yoshiki sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll sing.”

Sunlight blooms in Hikaru’s chest at the words.

“Really?! Great!” He grins at Yoshiki. “Yer the best friend ever!”

“Layin’ it on a bit thick, ain’t ya?” Yoshiki grumbles, his cheeks going red.

“Only ‘cause it’s true,” Hikaru says idly, reaching for the control tablet to cue up their song.

Once Asako and Yuuki have finished singing and are sitting back down, Hikaru pulls Yoshiki up to the front of the room, as Maki cheers and whoops, yelling encouragement at the pair. He sounds more like he’s at a sports event than at karaoke. Yoshiki’s head is slightly bowed as he takes the microphone, and his shoulders are all tense, his grip on the microphone making his knuckles white.

“If this goes wrong…” he says, as the karaoke countdown begins.

“It’ll be fine,” Hikaru assures him, grinning. “I got ya.”

Then the song starts.

Perfect. That’s how the moment feels to Hikaru. Perfect.

On one level, he still can’t believe he gets to do this – that he gets to have this. Standing next to Yoshiki as they sing together, with all their friends cheering, having eaten tasty snacks and drank sweet soda. Sure, he has to strain to hear Yoshiki’s voice underneath his, because Yoshiki sings so softly and Maki’s providing an unofficial backing track, but what he can hear is beautiful. Just beautiful. It’s his favourite sound. Just like Yoshiki’s smiles, he wants to steal it away so it’s just his. So he can listen to it again and again.

The song finishes with a flourish that can be scarcely heard over everyone’s cheering. The energy from the song seems to have worked its way into his body; Hikaru is almost trembling, vibrating with the urge to keep going. He turns towards Yoshiki, compliment and grin ready, and that’s when he sees it. Hikaru stops, struck dumb, his breathing hitching in his chest.

Yoshiki’s smile. His real, true smile, aimed directly at Hikaru.

Hikaru beams back. All this warmth – all this energy – this is all for him. His friends cheering, their presents in his bag, the photos they’ve taken – that’s all for him. Yoshiki’s head pats and smiles. They’re all for him too. They all belong to Hikaru.

Fizzy. That’s how Hikaru feels on the journey back home. Fizzy.

He can’t shake the energy out of his limbs, and he keeps singing little snippets of songs that he can’t get out of his head. He can’t keep a hold of one for long, only a few lines at a time, but he keeps returning back to one of the songs Asako and Yuuki had roped him into singing with them. It had been upbeat, energetic and driven, but the lyrics were all dark and twisty, like they wouldn’t match the song at all if you didn’t sing it in the right way. It’s fascinating. He’s not heard another song like it the entire time he’s been here.

“That ain’t the kinda song ya usually like,” Yoshiki comments idly as they draw closer to his house. For once, they’re walking side by side together, instead of Yoshiki leading the way. It’s enough to bring that warm feeling to Hikaru’s chest, all soft and aglow, but he can’t deny there’s a part of him that wants to look at Yoshiki properly, instead of sneaking glances from the side.

“Oh, sorry,” Hikaru apologises, but the song still lingers at the front of his mind, unable to be dislodged. He settles for tapping the beat out on his bike’s handlebars instead. “Is it annoying ya?”

“Nah.” Yoshiki huffs out a sort of half-laugh, but Hikaru can feel his eyes on him. “Jus’ normally ya call that sorta song ‘girly’. Thought ya’d be still humming Cruel Angel’s Thesis.”

Hikaru’s face grows hot, and he has to swallow carefully before speaking. The fizziness he feels is evaporating.

“I mean… it ain’t that girly.” Hikaru shrugs, but his defence sounds weak, even to his ears. “It ain’t like an idol song or anythin’.”

Yoshiki’s silence stretches for just a moment too long for Hikaru’s liking.

“I suppose so,” Yoshiki mutters, before he clears his throat, and says, louder, “We need to stop at my place first. Gotta grab my overnight things. An’ it gives Kaoru chance to see ya. She’s been naggin’ me to bring ya over.”

The mention of Kaoru makes Hikaru smile, the same way he smiles at pictures of puppies or kittens. She had texted him around lunchtime to wish him a happy birthday, alongside a sticker of a Labour Cat holding a birthday cake and balloons.

“How’s Kaoru doin’ anyway?” he asks. “Been a while since I saw her.”

About two weeks, to be exact. It isn’t the longest absence he can recall from either his or Hikaru’s memories, but it’s close. Somehow, they just always seem to miss each other.

“She’s… fine,” Yoshiki says, but something about his tone doesn’t seem quite right to Hikaru. He sounds like he’d rather have his teeth pulled. “She didn’t go in today, but she’s started goin’ to the salon with Mom, so she ain’t stuck in the house most days. An’ she’s sworn to Mom she’ll go in for her graduation next week.”

“That’ll be nice,” Hikaru says. “Maybe middle school will be better for her.”

“Maybe,” Yoshiki agrees quietly, and the conversation lapses into silence as they continue to walk home.

As always, they reach Yoshiki’s house first. Yoshiki leaves his bike in the front garden, and goes to open his front door. Just before he does, he pauses, then turns his head, looking back at Hikaru over his shoulder, frowning just a little. At him or at something else, Hikaru can’t tell.

“Kaoru insisted on handmaking your gift,” Yoshiki says, his voice all stern, like he’s warning Hikaru. “So… even if ain’t good, praise her. She’s put a lot of effort in.”

“Eh?” Hikaru frowns as he rests his own bike next to Yoshiki’s. “She doesn’t normally make stuff.”

“…she did for Yurie-chan, before she moved away,” Yoshiki explains, turning back to the door. “An’ she’s made no friends since, so she doesn’t have anyone else. So… be nice to her. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“…right,” Hikaru mutters, even though he’s always nice to her. It’s Kaoru.

Yoshiki pushes the door open, and motions for Hikaru to follow him.

“I’m home,” Yoshiki calls as he enters his home. “An’ I got Hikaru with me.”

“Sorry for intrudin’,” Hikaru says. It feels sort of pointless, because all he’s doing is waiting in the genkan. It’s not even worth taking his shoes off, not really. Yoshiki doesn’t needle him about it while he takes his own shoes off, so clearly he feels the same.

“I won’t be long,” he promises, heading up the stairs to his room just as Satoko appears in the living room doorframe.

“Hikaru,” she greets, tone warm as she nods at him. “Happy birthday. Have you had a good time at karaoke?”

She is smiling, but it’s weirdly taut. The bags under her eyes rival Yoshiki’s and she’s leaning against the doorframe in a way she normally doesn’t. She must have been up late last night, arguing with Toshinori. Hikaru doesn’t get why they argue – not even Hikaru got that – but he knows they do, and he knows it gets to Yoshiki.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling back at her. “An’ I did! It was really fun. Even got Yoshiki to sing with me.”

Satoko chuckles, brushing her bangs back from her face. “That’s good,” she says, her eyes crinkling as her smile relaxes. “You always manage to get him out of his shell like that. I’m glad you two boys are such good friends.”

Ah. Hikaru swallows, and shuffles his feet, unsure of what to say, but he’s saved by Kaoru suddenly appearing from behind Satoko. There’s a small gasp, then she pushes past her mom and runs up the stairs. Not a minute later, she’s back down, standing in front of Hikaru, her cheeks red, hands clasped together, panting slightly.

“Hikaru!” Kaoru smiles up at him, her eyes bright and shining. “Happy birthday, Hika-chan.”

“Thank you, Kaoru-chan,” Hikaru says, absently noting Satoko slipping away. “How was school today?”

The smile vanishes from Kaoru’s face. “I didn’t go,” she says, shrugging. “I went with Mom to the salon though, an’ she let me go to the convenience shop for lunch. I, uh. I got ya a present. ‘Cause it’s yer birthday.”

“Oh?” He grins at her, tilting his head to the side. “Well, yer already ranking above yer brother, ‘cause he didn’t get me anythin’ proper. I’m sure it’s great.”

Kaoru squirms a little, her cheeks flushing even redder. “Um, ya gotta close yer eyes,” she says, barely above a whisper. “‘Cause I ain’t had time to wrap it. An’ hold out yer hand.”

Hikaru humours her, closing his eyes and holding out his hand. Something soft and fuzzy, lightweight, is placed in his palm, Kaoru’s fingers brushing against his as she pulls away.

“Ya can open them.”

Opening his eyes, he sees that the soft thing in his hand is a plush frog, green felt with a white belly, little black beady for eyes, evidently handmade. Hikaru stares at it, caught by its gaze, before Kaoru speaks again.

“I wanted to make you a lizard, ‘cause I know they’re yer favourite,” she explains, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. “But it kept goin’ wrong, cause the tail an’ the toes were all fiddly, an’ a frog were the closest thing I could think of, so… do ya like him?”

Hikaru takes the time to consider the frog. Evidently, Kaoru isn’t the best at handicraft. The frog’s stitches are all wonky and uneven, and he’s a bit overstuffed, bulging at the seams, little pieces of the stuffing inside trying to escape. She’s tried to personalise it though - there’s sequins stitched to one side of the frog’s flank, and on the other, she’s tried to embroider the kanji for his name. It’s not perfectly straight – he can see where she used a marker to draw the character out before stitching it – but it’s so utterly Kaoru, so unique and heartfelt, that he can’t help but find it charming.

“I love him,” he says, as honest as he can ever be. “Thank you, Kaoru. I’ll treasure it until I die.”

He tucks the frog into his pocket, then reaches out to pat Kaoru’s head, like Yoshiki does with him, only a lot more gently as he ruffles her hair. Kaoru peers up at him through her bangs and grins, then wraps her arms around him and pulls him into a hug. It takes Hikaru a moment to remember what to do, but then he hugs her back, giving her a squeeze around her middle. Just like Hikaru used to do.

Huh. She’s gotten taller since this body last hugged her. Weird.

He’s still not too sure what to make of Kaoru. She’s sort of skittish around him, in a way that doesn’t quite line up with the memories. Sometimes she just stares at him until he grins at her, and she grins back. But Hikaru adored her, like she was his own sister, and Hikaru gets a flicker of gentle warmth in his chest when he looks at her, so he guesses he must do as well.

“I’m glad ya like him,” Kaoru says as she pulls away. “I was worried ya wouldn’t. Are ya gonna name him?”

“Maybe,” Hikaru says. “I might call him Kero-chan. Oh, Yoshiki!”

Embers of warmth glow in Hikaru’s chest at the sight of Yoshiki coming down the stairs, overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He’s not even changed out of his school uniform, the dork.

“You dressin’ up nice for my mama?” Hikaru teases as Yoshiki goes red. He steps past Kaoru carefully, but knocks Hikaru with his shoulder.

“Shut up,” he mutters. “They’re the best clothes I have.”

“An’ it’s your birthday,” Kaoru notes, her head slightly tilted to one side, her eyes fixed on Yoshiki. “So really, he’s dressin’ all nice for you, Hikaru.”

Impossibly, Yoshiki goes redder. “Shouldn’t ya be helpin’ Mom with dinner?” he asks Kaoru, before he bends down to put his shoes on, his eyes vanishing behind his bangs. “Go on. ‘fore Dad gets back.”

Kaoru scowls, but does as she's told, even if she mutters about how her dad won’t be back before late like he always is. Hikaru stares at her retreating back, biting his lip. Maybe he should ask her over too, so she has some space away from her parents' arguments. Just for a little bit. Mama won’t mind; they’ve done it before, on even shorter notice.

No – that’s not quite right. Hikaru’s never had Kaoru over. Neither she nor Yoshiki have slept over at his house since Hikaru came out of the hospital. It wasn’t exactly common before, but the memories make it seem like they slept over at least once a month. Back when it was Hikaru.

The thought settles wrong in Hikaru’s stomach. It twists around, his palms prickling again as a hollow feeling swells up like a balloon inside. Why hasn’t Yoshiki slept over until now?

Before he can voice any of the thoughts in his head, Yoshiki straightens up, turning towards Hikaru. He’s smiling, and that’s enough to chase the hollowness away, smouldering away to that pleasant, soft glow.

“Ya ready?” Yoshiki asks.

“Of course!” Hikaru grins back. He follows Yoshiki out of the door, and forgets all about asking him anything.

It didn’t really matter anyway.

All throughout dinner, Mama and Grandpa fuss over Yoshiki, even though it’s Hikaru’s birthday. The conversation between Yoshiki and Mama flow easily enough, talking about exams and what’s happened since they last saw each other, even if Yoshiki’s got his weird polite tone on. But Mama’s cooking is perfect as always, and it’s nice just to hear Yoshiki talk without worrying about what he’s going to say, so Hikaru just sits back and enjoys the simple pleasures before him.

“Who’s ready for cake?” Mama asks as she clears the table.

Like she promised earlier, the cake Mama brings out is a strawberry shortcake, topped with fresh fruit all around the edge and delicate, light cream. In the middle, there’s a plaque reading ’Happy Birthday Hikaru!’, surrounded by four candles, their flames flickering as Mama sets the cake down in front of him. He glances up at her.

“Go on, Hikaru,” Mama says, smiling as she pats him on the shoulder. “Happy birthday. Blow out the candles an’ make a wish.”

Her words bring a flicker of amusement that Hikaru has to push down. It’s not her fault. Mama doesn’t know he doesn’t need to blow out candles to make a wish. She doesn’t know that he could grant her a wish, if she wanted. That it could be anything she wanted. She doesn’t know that wishes are human things, and he’s the farthest thing from a human you could get, if it weren’t for her son’s body. She doesn’t know who’s sitting at her table.

What would Hikaru even wish for, anyway? He’s already got more than he ever thought possible, thanks to Hikaru. He’s got Mama and her cooking. He’s got school and his friends. He’s got Yoshiki, and Yoshiki’s smile, and that soft, sweet soul-like glow Hikaru never realised he could have.

Maybe – maybe he should wish for more time with Yoshiki. That’s all he ever wants, really.

Closing his eyes, Hikaru blows out the candles.

Eating the cake is simply glorious. It’s perfectly fluffy, the cream nice and light, and the strawberries inside the filling have a surprising tartness that’s a new experience for him. It takes all of his effort to slow down and eat it properly, thanking Mama for it between bites. Luckily, Yoshiki leaves most of his slice, mainly around the cream filling, so Hikaru finishes it for him.

They don’t do much the rest of the evening. After they change into their pyjamas, they play Smash for a bit, then Hikaru watches Yoshiki play Pikmin. They can’t play co-op – Yoshiki banned Hikaru from playing ages ago, long before Hikaru took over his body. Yoshiki gets fussy about keeping every little Pikmin alive, and the fact Hikaru didn’t even notice when half of his squad started drowning because they weren’t the type that could go into water ended up being the last straw for Yoshiki. So, thanks to that, Hikaru’s relegated to the sidelines, even though he’s never played Pikmin.

It’s fine though. It’s nice.

Hikaru likes Yoshiki like this. When it’s just them, by themselves. He likes the intense look on Yoshiki’s face, the slight frown as he stares at the screen, passionate in a way he rarely gets. He likes the texture of Yoshiki’s pyjama shirt, the way the cotton is worn, stretched and softened from wear. Hikaru wants to lean on Yoshiki’s shoulder, rest his head there, breathe in Yoshiki’s scent – not his deodorant or Kaoru’s rose bath salts, but his real, human scent – and absorb his presence.

But Hikaru didn’t do that, so he can’t.

“Why d’ya care so much ‘bout keepin’ them all safe, anyway?” Hikaru asks, flopping down onto his back so he’s staring up at his ceiling. “It ain’t like they’re real. They’re just pieces of code.”

“…I know,” Yoshiki replies. “But they’re still mine to look after.”

Like that explains anything at all.

Eventually, the toll of Pikmin deaths must get to Yoshiki, because he switches off the console. Or it might be because Hikaru keeps yawning, and now Yoshiki’s yawning too. It’s kind of cute, actually. Yoshiki yawns like a kitten.

While Yoshiki washes up the bathroom, Hikaru goes to his bedroom so he can set up Yoshiki’s futon next to his. He’s careful to lay it down with the usual gap between them, not a centimetre closer nor a centimetre further than how they used to be set up. It’s easy to think of it as Yoshiki’s futon, because he’s the only person who ever came over enough to use it. There’s one for Kaoru too, stashed away in Mama’s room. If she ever comes over again.

“Yer bangs are damp,” Hikaru comments when Yoshiki walks back in, face looking freshly scrubbed. “Maybe ya should have borrowed one of Mama’s hair clips. Or her headband – she’s got one of those ones that girls have for doin’ their make-up an’ stuff.”

“Nah,” Yoshiki dismisses, kneeling down next to his overnight bag. “I’d feel bad borrowin’ it from her.”

Hikaru grins, stretching out as he lays down on his futon. “Then I’ll buy ya yer own for yer birthday,” he teases. “An’ you an’ Asako can have a spa day together.”

Yoshiki would probably look all handsome like that, with his bangs pushed back so you could see his eyes and his skin all fresh and glowy. But Hikaru likes Yoshiki just how he is.

There’s no response from Yoshiki to Hikaru’s remark. Instead, he pauses, his hands lingering at the opening of his overnight bag. Then he clears his throat, lifting his head to look at Hikaru.

“I got somethin’ for ya,” he explains, in a low tone. “A present. Didn’t want to give ya it in front of Maki ‘cause you know how he gets.”

“Oh?” Hikaru blinks twice, then sits up, grinning. He didn’t expect that. “Well, don’t be shy about it! Bring it over here.”

Yoshiki nods, and pulls out something big and square from his bag. Like Mama’s gift earlier, it’s wrapped in paper, but this time it’s not shiny, and it’s deep red rather than bright orange. Surprisingly, he chooses to sit cross-legged next to Hikaru on his futon, instead of across from him on Yoshiki’s own. There’s a gap, about the size of Hikaru’s palm, just left between them, deliberate in the way it stops their legs from touching. He slides the present over to Hikaru, who takes the chance to run his fingers across the paper. It’s rough, slightly bumpy under his fingertips, and there’s an unexpected heft to the actual gift.

“Can I open it?” he asks, voice hushed.

“Go ahead.”

Carefully, with a reverence that he can’t quite explain himself, Hikaru unwraps the present. Underneath the wrapping, lying in his lap, is a book. Perfectly square, with a black cotton cover and metal golden corners. Briefly, he glances up at Yoshiki, before looking back and opening the book.

Inside, there’s photos. The first one is of him, as a baby, barely a month old, blearily staring at the camera as he’s cradled in Toshinori’s arms, held close to Yoshiki, also a baby and sat in someone’s lap, but much bigger than him, wearing a tiny party hat. No – not him. Hikaru. In the next photo, he’s much bigger, chubby-cheeked with cake smeared all around his mouth, and next to him, staring vacantly at the camera, is Yoshiki. Shaking, just a little, Hikaru flicks through the book, the photos clicking against each page. There’s pictures of Hikaru, always with Yoshiki, always grinning to the camera, even when he’s missing teeth or has a nasty bruise. In some pictures, there’s party hats and balloons; in others, he’s blowing out the candles on a cake, or cheering on Yoshiki as he blows his candles out. Sometimes, Hikaru can’t tell whose birthday they’re celebrating.

Then the photos shift – still glossy, but they’re framed differently, taken on a phone instead of a camera. They’re slightly older in these ones, in their middle school uniforms, the celebrations less elaborate. Some of them are selfies, Asako peeking out from the bottom of the screen as everyone else smiles at the screen. In the final photo, before there’s nothing but empty pages, Hikaru’s throwing up a peace sign with one hand, and giving Yoshiki bunny ears with his other.

Hikaru can remember that. It was Hikaru’s last birthday, where they had gone to Diner America and ordered so much food it became painful to eat. The memory is bubbly, light.

“Are these…?”

“Yeah.” Yoshiki nods. “Every single birthday we’ve ever had. Had to ask yer mom for a few photos, but a lot of them are from my family’s collection. The ones from middle school I had to get printed, but that was easy enough. An’ there’s space. For our next birthdays. We can get the pictures Asako took today an’ print them out.” He coughs, then clears his throat. “I… I wanted to do this for a while. Jus’ didn’t have time until now. But I thought it’d be nice. There’s some of yer daddy in there too. I don’t think ya’ve seen them before.”

Hikaru blinks. He nods, unsure of what to say. He’s not even sure if the words exist for this feeling, dizzying and buoyant in his chest. Slowly, he goes back to the picture of Yoshiki’s first birthday, and looks properly. Holding Yoshiki in his lap, grinning to the world so hard his eyes are closed, is Hikaru’s daddy. Hikaru can’t help but frown, just a little.

Why – why does Hikaru’s daddy look familiar to him? Beyond Hikaru’s memories? Why does Hikaru feel like he should know him?

“I…” Hikaru swallows. The back of his neck prickles, and his throat feels all sticky inside. He tries again, closing the photo album and putting it to the side. “Thank you, Yoshiki. This – man, how am I meant to top this for yer birthday?”

Yoshiki makes a noise that’s not quite a sigh, but not quite a laugh either. “Ya don’t have to worry ‘bout that. Seriously.”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna!” Hikaru complains, twisting around to look at Yoshiki. He’s closer than he thought; their noses are nearly touching. He could count Yoshiki’s eyelashes, if he wanted. “How am I meant to compete with ya if ya go an’ do somethin’ like this, huh?”

Yoshiki swallows, his gaze darting away. Then he pulls back, slowly. “It ain’t a competition,” he mutters. “Ya don’t have to worry. I’ll be happy no matter what ya get me.”

“Yeah but…” Hikaru swallows as well, feeling his cheeks heat up again. “It’s gotta be perfect for ya. ‘Cause you're my best friend. You’re… I gotta get it right, if it’s for you.”

For whatever reason, the words make Yoshiki’s shoulders slump down, and he shifts away. “Ya don’t have to worry,” he repeats, but he still doesn’t look Hikaru in the face. “C’mon. It’s late. We should get to sleep before your mama starts yelling at us.”

Once they’re under their own blankets, Hikaru can’t help but feel the ache of Yoshiki’s absence from his side. There’s not that much distance – if he reached out, he could probably touch Yoshiki’s shoulder – but after having Yoshiki sitting so close, it feels like a gulf stretching for miles between them. Just like him, Yoshiki curls up on his side, quiet as he lays there, but with his back facing Hikaru, almost impossible to see in the darkness. There’s not even the unnatural bright glow of his phone to illuminate him.

“…Yoshiki?” Hikaru says into the night air, careful to keep his voice quiet. “I… I had a really good time today. It’s probably the best birthday I’ve had for a while. So… thank you.”

For a moment, he thinks Yoshiki is already asleep, but then he turns his head, ever so slightly, before letting it drop back down onto the pillow.

“You’re okay,” Yoshiki says quietly. “I’m glad ya had fun. An’… I enjoyed myself, too. Singin’ with you was nice. Just… never again, alright?”

Hikaru hums in acknowledgment. That’s good – if Yoshiki enjoyed himself, then he’ll want to hang out more, and then maybe Hikaru will get to keep him, and they can keep on like this, with more food shared between them, and games played together, and sleepovers…

“…hey, how come ya don’t sleep over no more?” Hikaru asks. “Ya used to be over here all the time but now…”

The movement barely catches his eye. Yoshiki’s back tenses up for a moment, before it relaxes as Yoshiki exhales in a long sigh. Is it natural? Or is it an act? Hikaru still doesn’t know enough about humans to tell the difference.

“…just been busy studyin’ for exams,” Yoshiki says at last. “An’ ya needed the time to get better, after January. I’m here now, ain’t I?”

“Yeah… ya could have studied with me though.” Hikaru yawns. “Now that exams’re over and I’m better, are ya gonna be here more?”

There’s another long pause.

“Of course,” Yoshiki says, so soft Hikaru scarcely catches it. Then, softer still, “Goodnight, Hikaru. And happy birthday.”

“…Night, Yoshiki.”

As he listens to the slight unsteady lull of Yoshiki’s breathing, Hikaru shifts onto his back, and stares up at the ceiling. It’s been a good day. The best day he’s had since coming down from the mountain. He’s had birthday cake and presents and sang karaoke for the time ever. He’s spent almost the entire day by Yoshiki’s side, which is all he ever wants to do. So why now is he left feeling like this? Why now is he feeling all hollow and off-kilter?

Kaoru’s handmade plush. Yoshiki’s photo album. Mama’s kisses. They’re not meant for him, not really. They’re meant for their Hikaru. If they knew the truth – what? What would they do? Cry over their Hikaru? Turn their backs on him? Force Hikaru back to the mountain?

They can’t know the truth. Not now. Not ever.

I’m only doing what he wanted anyway, Hikaru tells himself. Making sure they celebrate instead of cry.

If he can’t get that right, what is he even doing?

Strangely, unbiddenly, Hikaru starts to think about the ants and the caterpillar Yoshiki told him about.

He got it wrong before. Yoshiki had said the caterpillars don’t harm the ants, but they do. Hikaru had looked them up later, and he found a video, which said the caterpillar usually eats the ant larvae. The grown ants spend all that time looking after it, and it still eats the larvae. But it’s not doing anything wrong, is it? It’s only trying to survive. If Hikaru had to kill someone – if he has to kill Yoshiki – that’s only him trying to survive. Right?

No, he decides. Hikaru isn’t a caterpillar. He’s not going to ruin it by killing Yoshiki. Not now. Not when it’s been so much fun. Not when Yoshiki’s given him so much already.

He might kill someone else, though. If they ever find out. But not Yoshiki. Never Yoshiki.

Quietly, Hikaru turns onto his side. Yoshiki’s breathing has long since evened out, and he’s stone still – he must be asleep. Maybe he’s dreaming of his Hikaru. If Hikaru allows himself, he can see Yoshiki’s soul, bright against the stark darkness of the room. A bright, fervent flame, almost iridescent at the edges, flickering and twisting as it dances. Hikaru watches it against the rise and fall of Yoshiki’s breathing, the evidence of his life, and slowly, starts to close his eyes.

Rise, fall, and flicker. Rise, fall, and flicker. Rise, fall, and flicker…

As Hikaru falls asleep, he starts to dream of what his next birthday will be like.