Work Text:
"Dad!"
"Wait, you really said it?"
"We agreed before. No backing out now."
Denji spread his palm, and Asa wordlessly threw the sandwich she was holding towards him.
This was Peace Park, nestled between the city center and the suburbs. A few years back, it had likely been a picturesque and lively place bustling with people, parents with children and couples would visit there on weekends and holidays to savor moments of peace. Then the demons came too, after they indulged themselves, the environment wasn't suitable anymore, and the place fell into neglect. The park's flowers and trees, left untended, grew wildly and bizarrely. The central fountain lay abandoned, its accumulated rainwater covered in moss. Only after the foul smell dissipated and small animals moved in to make their homes did the place regain a hint of life.
Now there were two more people.
The first time they met, Asa was breaking off a piece of bread and placing it on a plastic wrapper spread out on the bench. A few pigeons watched from a distance, hesitating to approach, but before they could decide to come closer, someone on the other side of the bench backrest sat up with a rustle, reached an arm straight over the backrest, grabbed that piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Huh? That wasn't for you."
"First come, first served." Denji yawned, eyeing the remaining bread. Only when Asa glared at him did he grudgingly lie back down. "Never seen you around before."
"My home is far away, just staying nearby temporarily, so I would come here."
From then on, the two began bumping into each other every now and then.
For Asa, this was a feeding spot where she occasionally fed animals—birds, cats, dogs, and wild boy.
For Denji, this was a foraging spot where he occasionally found food—bread, cookies, donuts, and pretty girl.
But beyond that, they had little interaction. Asa never asked about Denji, and Denji never asked about Asa. Their connection was limited to food, limited to this Peace Park. Within these boundaries, they gradually grew familiar with each other.
"If you're not gonna eat it, give it to me." Denji poked his head over.
Asa put down the tuna sandwich.
"No, I need this to feed the cat."
"Huh?"
"'Cause cats like fish, right?"
"I could really like fish too."
"The cat needs this."
"I need it more," Denji said. "No difference if you give it to me, right?"
Yes, there was no difference—a cat or a person.
Asa lifted her chin. "Call me Dad and I'll give it to you."
Clearly, this posed no obstacle for Denji. Asa resignedly tossed the sandwich over.
"Hey, wanna see a movie?"
Denji wolfed down the sandwich. "I don't have any money."
"The place I'm staying at gave out movie tickets."
"Yay! Let's go!"
The sleepy usher tore off the stub and threw it into the box.
Asa and Denji tiptoed into the theater and took their seats. Soon, the lights went off with a soft hiss. Darkness engulfed them from all sides, and the world seemed to float uncertainly. Only the large screen ahead glowed with a mellow light. After a swirl of moonlight and night, a girl at her desk suddenly looked back.
Hearing a faint, trembling breath, Denji turned his head slightly. The girl beside him was watching intently, her cheeks hidden in the dimness. He shifted his gaze back forward. On screen, the protagonist lying on a stretcher reached out toward the audience, giving a peace sign and making a promise to meet again.
A sudden wave of sorrow washed over him.
As the end credits rolled and the lights came up, the sparse audience in the theater gradually rose to leave.
Only two remained seated, watching the credits scroll upwards.
When the credits reached the bottom, Denji glanced around. Moments later, his eyes lit up. He grabbed Asa, who was about to stand.
"Shh—" Denji grinned. "Let's watch it again!"
He pushed Asa and squeezed them into an empty storage cabinet tucked in the corner.
Asa followed in a daze, only realizing what was happening once they were hidden inside. Her eyes widened with fright as she shot Denji a look of accusation while straining to listen for sounds outside.
Actually she looks quite cute, Denji thought.
Unfortunately, the second movie was incredibly soporific. They both drifted off to sleep, only jolting awake at the end of the movie amidst a series of explosions.
"What happened?" Denji whispered.
"Dunno." Asa whispered back.
They blended into the departing crowd, heading towards the cinema exit.
"Hey! You two!"
Denji abruptly yanked Asa along, and they started to sprint.
The usher bellowed, "You were at the last movie! How dare you skip out on paying! Stop—just you wait till I catch you!"
Asa stumbled to keep up, and they were chased all the way to the end of the corridor. Denji stepped onto the windowsill and leaped out, landing steadily on the ground.
"Get down!" He turned, arms outstretched.
Asa stepped onto the windowsill and looked down. Just as she hesitated, her foot slipped.
Huh?
The wall began tilting. The sky receded upwards as Asa fell downwards, her vision filling with Denji's wide eyes.
Gravity pulled them together into a heap. Their skin touched, body heat transferred between them.
So this is what it feels like to hold a boy, Asa thought.
So this is what it feels like to hold a girl, Denji thought.
"Owww!" they screamed in unison.
They scrambled to their feet, stumbling to safety together. It took a moment for the shock to wear off.
Asa took a deep breath.
"Will you come with me to one last place?"
The sky stretched high and vast. The river reflected two figures sitting side by side on the bank.
"If only people lived inside movies, then so many things would be easier." Asa dipped her hand into the water. "But even so, my life would probably just be a laughably bad movie."
Denji pondered for a moment. "Hmm... Then I hope my life would be a porn."
"Huh? You... You're so vulgar!!!"
"What else would you want? Porn is awesome!"
Asa's face flushed. "At least... at least a niche arthouse movie? Maybe not many people would watch it, but some would appreciate it. Maybe it could even get nominated for some awards. People would say things like, 'This movie is so well-made' or 'I really related to the characters'…"
"What kind of thing is that? It's not as thrilling as porn. At least the viewers are on the same wavelength as me. When I watch porn, I'm filled with that same desire to be in their shoes!"
"Gross—"
"But this is my first time on a date with a girl." Denji tossed a stone into the water. "It already feels like something out of a movie."
"Huh? This isn't a date."
"...It's not?"
"...Un..."
"...Un, fine."
Denji flopped onto his back, rolled around on the ground a few times, then sat up, pressing his stomach with his elbows. Grass seeds and dust clinging to his hair, face, and clothes rustled and fell away.
"I'm hungry." he declared.
"It hasn't been that long!"
"It has been a couple of hours since we left the park." Denji protested.
Asa fell silent, burying her face in her elbow.
"I won't go to the park anymore."
I'm going home. To live with mom, and my cat.
Asa said.
I live with Pochita.
Denji said.
They watched silently as the river flowed from east to west chasing the setting sun, finally kissing it on the horizon.
"I have to go."
"Not gonna stay a bit longer?"
"No, Pochita is waiting for me at home."
Asa hugged her knees. "...Oh."
Denji stood up, his reflection stretching along the riverbank.
Waves swept across the river surface in gusts, scooping up fragments of the scattered sunset. Several reeds poked through the water, swaying gently.
Life is as fragile as reeds in water, yet reeds are also graceful. When painting, just a few strokes of them suffice to capture the beauty where sky and water merge. Why must we force human bitterness upon them? Or perhaps life is more like the riverbank—only able to watch the water flow by day after day, and face the utterly troublesome marshes here and there.
But. But.
Since people can touch one another, even while dreaming of solitary fortresses, they keep meeting and having things they can't let go.
There will be more to encounter in the future, laughter to share, tears to shed.
Then surely this life as a laughingstock has its own reason for being.