Chapter Text
Tsukasa took the same train every day.
Every day, without fail. Always at the same time, in the same carriage, sitting in the same plastic seat that was “his” in all but name. All of this routine, all of this almost ritual was his constant. Consistent, unchanging. He loved this, this small comfort. This certainty, a fundamental that which would never change, even when everything else in his life did.
Even when Saki was still in the hospital, so weak she could barely mumble out a frail “hello”. Even when her condition got better only to worsen, even when his parents hardly noticed him in favour of helping Saki, even though he knew she deserved the care that didn’t make it hurt any less-
Breathe, Tsukasa.
Things always felt worse when he thought them through.
For him, he decided, blissful ignorance would be best.
Like an actor, he kept up his facade of cheerfulness. No one needed his childish “struggles”, after all. Not when others suffered far worse. Not when everyone that was truly suffering needed him. Not when Saki needed him.
He was walking into the station now. The air inside was sooty, dirty, so unlike the sterile atmosphere of the hospital room he had just left behind. He loved his sister, and he wanted to visit her as much as possible. Yet after visits, after accompanying her in her antiseptic prison…it never failed to make him feel unsettled. As much as he disliked the smell of smoke and body odour, it was infinitely better when compared to the emptiness that he had just left behind. The hospital was all fake smiles and biting air conditioning, like the cold could freeze off the misery and hopelessness that settled into every nook and cranny like dust. Here, at least, everyone was real. Everyone would stay, no matter how painful the conditions inside the room
The train station was crowded today, more crowded than it normally was. The hustle and bustle of the station drummed themselves into Tsukasa’s ears, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care much. Right now, all that mattered was getting onto his train, into his carriage, into his seat. Nothing else mattered right now. Nothing else has ever mattered in his life. But as long as he could keep his one constant steady, everything was going to be alright.
He pushed himself through the hordes of people, past men and women, old and young, poor and poorer as the poorest, most pitiful of all. People always looked at him in terms of someone else. He was always the brother of that one sick girl, always how good of him, that he takes care of her. He was never Tsukasa, talented actor, never anyone but another sad accessory to Saki’s tapestry of anguish.
But that was better than what others got! He had to be grateful, how selfish was he?
His seat was empty. A relief. He settled himself down into it quickly, before anyone else could steal it away from him. His bag on the ground, phone out, doomscrolling like an alcoholic drinking to numb his pain. Patiently waiting for the last piece of the puzzle that was the continuity of the train.
Every time Tsukasa took the train, the same boy sat opposite him. Tall, probably taller than Tsukasa, but young, maybe only a few years older than Tsukasa was at most. Tired-looking. A bit frail. Sickly, but not in the way Saki was. Just…empty. Silent. Despite sitting maybe three feet apart, they never spoke a word to each other: Tsukasa drowning his feelings away in endless distractions, the other staring straight ahead.
Tsukasa waited ten, twenty, thirty seconds. Someone walked into the carriage, someone sat in his seat. But no, it wasn’t him. Just a middle aged salaryman, briefcase under his arm, weighed down by the weight of adult life. Then, right before the doors closed, the one Tsukasa was “waiting” for.
He moved to sit in the only empty seat, next to Tsukasa. Tsukasa had never been this near to him before. Now, up close, the blond noticed details he hadn’t before — dull purple hair, messily tied up into a side ponytail. Dusty blue highlights in the front, one in the middle part of his bangs, the other longer down the side. Despite the change in routine, his behavior didn’t change. He still stared blankly, emptily, like there was nothing behind those dead yellow eyes. Like neither darkness nor light lived inside him, just…nothing. Tsukasa couldn’t help but feel a bit unnerved, now that he was so close to this ghost of a boy. Like he wasn’t meant to be here, like he wasn’t meant to see this barely-there shadow of a teenager.
He smelled like nothing. Like air conditioning, maybe. Like cold air, devoid of life, icy and harsh and biting and hollow. Tsukasa shivered imperceptibly.
Desperate for something, anything to prove that this was real, that the thing next to him wasn’t a figment of his imagination or something not of this world, something he shouldn’t be able to see, he couldn’t help but lean in the slightest bit closer. Then suddenly, as if against his own will, he felt his mouth open, vocal chords working involuntarily to produce a quiet, almost scared-sounding:
“H-hello?”
He regretted the word as soon as it had left his mouth. Hell, he was surprised it even escaped in the first place, as it was never his intention in the slightest. He was like a marionette, like a puppet controlled by the strings held by Fate itself. The other boy looked surprised at the sound, like he hadn’t expected to be addressed or even just spoken to. For a moment, Tsukasa thought that would be the end of it, that they’d both forget it all and go back to their usual silence. Then, a soft, tired:
“Hello.”
The other boy’s voice was low, soft, almost fragile. Weak, but not in the sense that he didn’t have the strength for more volume. Not in the way Tsukasa often overheard in the hospital, but in the sense that the boy didn’t bother enough to force more energy in hopes of a cheerier tone.
Not the sort to attempt a good impression, huh?
Tsukasa, however, was quite intrigued. He was, admittedly, quite surprised at the other’s reply. Not negatively, (no, he was glad the other responded — how embarrassing it would have been, if he had spoken and no one had replied?!) but undeniably surprised.
“W-well, I am pleased to meet you!! My name is Tenma Tsukasa, but you can call me Tsukasa! Tenma, as in pegasus, Tsukasa, as in ruler- “
Before Tsukasa could second-guess himself, he sprung into his usual introduction, though with significantly less volume and assurance than he would have preferred in a different situation. Though perhaps it was for the best. There was something about this previously unchanging routine that felt so sacred, so immutable, so much so that a further deviation from the norm was nothing compared to what he had already done.
“The pleasure is mine, I suppose. I go by Kamishiro Rui.”
The other offered him a small weak smile, his tone equal parts confused and exhausted. Tsukasa nodded in acknowledgement. Kamishiro Rui, huh? Well, now that he managed to get his name, it was time to have a proper conversation! After all, that was the first step of developing a friendship, right?
“So…where do you go to school?”
Tsukasa asked, genuinely curious to know the answer. Most of the time, he saw the other — Rui, he reminded himself, he knew his name now in something that looked vaguely like a school uniform. Now that he thought about it, he’d never seen the other carry any sort of schoolbag around before. But before he could ponder this point properly, the other replied.
“The middle school nearby the station.”
His voice had dropped all remnants of a faux friendly tone, now back to the polite, but dead, emotionless, monotone Tsukasa had always imagined him using. His response was short, clipped. Bare. Did this mean he didn’t want to talk to Tsukasa anymore?
Despite this, Tsukasa decided to press on with another question. Somehow, he saw something in Rui, something that felt like it wasn’t disinterested, just…disbelieving.
“How old are you?”
Tsukasa tried, only half expecting a response. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t get one, if the silence that hung heavy in the air said anything. Rui’s dim yellow eyes widened ever so slightly, as if surprised Tsukasa was still talking to him.
(Well, of course I’m talking to you,, Tsukasa imagined himself saying, we’re having a conversation!)
“Fifteen.”
He was fifteen? That made him the same age as Tsukasa. That was surprising, Tsukasa had always thought he was older than that. He searched in his mind for more questions to ask, now that he had finally gotten the other to talk even a little bit, but he couldn’t find anything he could say. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to tell the other and wanted the other to tell him.
You seem sad. Are you okay?
I’ve been watching you for a while. I’ve always wanted to talk to you.
You’re so cold. I wish I could help.
He pushed all these potential words away, compressing them down from his lips into his mouth, from his mouth into his throat, all the way down until they sat like little dense pebbles in the base of his stomach.
The train stopped. Tsukasa’s stop.
“Well, goodbye!! I hope we can talk again soon!”
Tsukasa stood up. He walked out of the doors with a smile plastered on his face, forcing himself to look straight ahead, to keep his eyes fixed ahead of him instead of behind, at the reaction of the boy he had been trying so hard to talk to. That was a matter for another day.
Tsukasa tried to clear his mind of any thoughts he had related to Rui on his walk home, although that was starting to feel more and more like an impossible task with the way the other kept sneaking his way into every part of his mind. Had he been too forward, too direct? Had he, in his quest to help someone that was clearly not doing okay, only served to make the situation worse by trying too hard and in all the wrong ways?
He didn’t mean any harm. But since when has intention ever mattered? He never means any harm, and yet sometimes it feels like it’s all he manages to cause. School was already proof of this, proof of his inability to help without inconveniencing, his inability to present as anything but a selfish, attention seeking asshole. Were the warnings of his classmates not enough to make him realize? To internalize that he couldn’t save anyone, that he just kept doing the opposite?
Selfish…he turned the word around in his head like a coin in his hand. That wasn’t inaccurate. Ultimately, what has Tsukasa ever wanted in life, more than attention? From his parents, attention his sister earned a thousand times over through her suffering. From his teachers, praise that he would always keep in a special place in the back of his mind as proof that he wasn’t nothing more than a burden.
From Rui, even. Wasn’t that the whole motive of what he had been doing? He wanted to help, yes, but how would talking do anything? How would his stupid, pointless questions save this boy from whatever he was running from, whether it was people or life or himself?
Even Tsukasa could tell whatever he was telling himself was just a way to deny himself the truth. The more he thought about it, really thought about it, the flimsier his logic felt.
Face it, Tsukasa.
You just wanted to feel good about yourself.