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It had been days since Yoshiki left that mountain with the knowledge that his best friend was rotting on the damp forest floor. Days since he locked himself within his room, which felt closer and closer to a makeshift tomb. He couldn’t stop seeing it, Hikaru’s cold, lifeless body on the ground, rain pelting down on them like the icy chill of death was still caressing the pair like a mocking comfort. For days, there were still people from their village searching for the Indou boy, yet only Yoshiki knew that they would never find him.
What a useless waste of space he was, rotting in his bed for the past few days, as if that would allow him to join Hkaru. To decay and have his flesh drip from his bones, mixing with Hikaru’s until both were barely identifiable as human, unable to discern where one ended and the other began. But he couldn’t. Instead, he was wasting time, wallowing his sorrow, his own self pity like a little piss baby.
So maybe that’s why his mother shoved him outside, “Get some fresh air”, she said.
“It’ll be good for you.” She said, yet walking through the streets he had known all his life, all he saw were the pitying stares from neighbors, looking at him as if they expected him to crumble, vultures looking for the freshest gossip.
“Why are they gawking at me like I’m a heartbroken widow?” Yoshiki couldn’t help but think with annoyance, feeling his blood pressure spike with every person he managed to catch staring.
The ground was spinning beneath him as he walked, every whisper enhanced, piercing his eardrums. Every glance burned through him as his mind screamed. A cornered, wounded animal looking for any escape from the vultures circling above, waiting for it to drop.
Stop looking at me.
Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me.
STOP LOOKING AT ME.
…He needed to get out.
Without a second thought, he turned on his heel and ran. He didn’t know where, but he had to get anywhere but here. Anywhere but where people tracked every micromovement, waiting for any cracks to pierce through. Waiting for every argument. Waiting for every cold shoulder. Waiting for any wind of any misfortune from him and his family.
He was sick of it. Vultures, all of them.
He only stopped once he reached a dirt path. While still close to some houses, the road and the hedge by it split him off from any unwanted eyes. Finally, he let himself breathe as he slowly dropped, sitting down and covering his face as he let his shoulders shake, a few choked sobs clawed out of his throat in an ugly, strangled sound.
“Woah, you okay?”
A voice came, not from the path, but behind Yoshiki. On the other side of the hedge. Yoshiki froze, his breath catching. He knew that voice. How could he not? He grew up with it, laughed with it, and heard it almost every day of his life until it became silent a week ago.
His neck snapped back so quick he thought he broke it as he choked out, “Wh…What…?”
“Ya sound like ye’re dyin’. You okay, twin?” The voice called back. Yoshiki could almost hear the smirk in it.
“...I…” Yoshiki trailed off, before murmuring, “...Yes.”
It couldn’t be him. He was dead, he saw it himself. It couldn’t be him. He was gone.
“A’ight. Cool. See ya then.” And the person on the other side of the hedge started walking off, the footsteps sounding clumsy and a bit uneven, like a newborn fawn.
Before Yoshiki knew what he was doing, a desperate part of him called out, “W- Wait a second! Your voice, it sounds familiar!”
The person paused, and responded with a bit of curiosity, “Does it?”
Yoshiki stood up, shaking as he finally forced out, “Y…Yes. Very. Like a voice I only hear in my memory.”
The person was quiet, sounding like they turned and shifted to face his direction, and answered, “Yours too…Huh. Weird. Anyways, see ya-” and the person started to walk off again.
No.
Yoshiki called out one more time, his voice wavering as he blurted out, “Wait! I know you from somewhere, I swear it! Maybe in a dream?”
The person stopped, and remarked, the smirk in their voice clear, “I doubt it, sounds cheesy-”
“Could I at least see your face?” Yoshiki interrupted. God, he really did sound like a hysterical widow, swearing that she just saw her dead husband. What kind of question is that???
The person was quiet for a moment, the silence agonizing as the winter air nipped Yoshiki’s cheeks. Finally, the person replied, “...Okay. The hedge ends further up. There’s an opening.”
The two of them fell into silence, walking side by side yet separated by the hedge between them, Yoshiki's slow steps contrasting the irregular crunch of pebbles under the other person’s shoes. Finally, they made it to the opening. With a breath, Yoshiki stepped forward and looked to the side.
There he was. Still in his rain coat, still in his dirty boots, eyes wide with surprise yet..off. Like seeing a corpse walking and resuming like nothing was wrong. Finally, the person spoke, “...Yoshiki?”
Yoshiki stared, his heart hammering as his hands began to shake once more. His breathing quickened. He felt nausea shake his body, threatening to lose what little food he’s been eating the past week onto the dirt. Finally, he found his voice.
“Hikaru…?”