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Rui’s alarm goes off at 7:30.
Blurrily fading into consciousness and inspecting the piercing glow of the phone screen, all he can think is that’s not right. Usually he sets it for 7:45; a little extra time either in bed or on the couch in the garage can do wonders. Reaching to turn it off and rectify the mistake he must have made last night while haphazardly setting his alarm in the midst of working on the group project he’d been left to do by himself, the light from the screen faintly illuminates the familiar surroundings of the garage.
Except somehow, it’s not familiar. There are several devices Rui doesn’t recognize, ones that he can’t begin to guess the function of, even if there’s no answer for who made them other than himself. He must still be dreaming and his alarm is going off at 7:45 in the real world. He groans, rolling over to face the cushions on the back of the couch, ignoring the sudden flare of stinging pain in his right arm. If he falls asleep in a dream, he’ll wake up in real life. That should be how it works. He shuts his eyes tightly as if he’s shielding himself from something terrifying on the other side of the room.
Flipping between screwing his eyes up until the backs of his eyelids begin to swirl with strange patterns and staring blankly at the cushions searching for details in the fabric for what feels like hours, Rui is fairly certain that it’s past 7:45 and he needs to get up for school. Begrudgingly, he sits up, kicking the thin blanket from his body and wincing. It’s been a week since it happened, but his legs still ache. Not even a strange alternate reality that he woke up in is kind enough to erase physical pain, apparently. He reaches for his phone again, this time unlocking it to send Mizuki his daily text asking if they want to meet in Shibuya to get to school together.
Rui’s heart drops when he opens the LINE app; it’s full of names he doesn’t recognize, people that are apparently in his contact list. “Asahi-san”, “Emu-kun”, the familiar “Nene”, his mother, and “Tsukasa-kun ♡”. Rui’s curiosity gets the better of him— he doesn’t know a Tsukasa, or at least he doesn’t remember one. A single look at their most recent conversation is all Rui needs to get the picture of the sort of person this Tsukasa is, and Rui feels ashamed that he’s having this kind of conversation with someone he doesn’t know, let alone saved his contact with a heart, and then not remembering the entire exchange. He swallows the bile in his throat, briefly considering deleting the contact because how could he let himself talk so intimately with someone he doesn’t even remember, as he returns to searching for Mizuki’s name. She’s surprisingly low down in the list compared to all these unfamiliar names. Apparently, it’s been a couple of weeks since he last messaged her, which he knows isn’t right; they walked to school together yesterday and he definitely messaged her about it. Opening the chat, the last thing they talked about seems to have been getting ice cream after school at the Baskin-Robbins near Rui’s house, and inviting a third person named “Shiraishi” whom once again, Rui does not remember, despite everything in this conversation pointing to them being someone Rui’s age. Whatever is going on with Rui’s life, he hates it more than usual. The sudden changes of the routine he loathes but expects, and the sudden introduction of all these people into his life; it’s so overwhelming that Rui wants to stay in his garage and cry like a loser. At the very least, messaging Mizuki is something he’s used to. Maybe they’ll know something about whatever’s going on.
are we meeting outside school like usual? Rui sends the message off as if the mysterious conversation from two weeks ago hasn’t happened. Mizuki is usually awake by now, even if they’re not planning on going to school, so that they can tell Rui whatever plans they have and then go back to bed accordingly. Sure enough, the message is marked as seen within seconds, and a typing bubble appears below Rui’s message.
woooah rui????? i wasnt gonna come into school today but if ur offering to meet then lets do it ^_^
It’s a very Mizuki-like message to receive— Mizuki not planning on coming to school is very consistent with how she usually is— albeit a little more cheerful than what he’d expect. A slight smile makes its way onto Rui’s face. At least Mizuki seems to be someone he can count on in whatever hellish reality he’s woken up in where he has all these connections. Rui reacts with a smiley face emoji.
ok. i’ll meet you at the usual spot.
Mizuki reacts with a bow emoji like usual to signify her wordless understanding. Rui sighs, setting his phone down and standing up to get ready for school. A white shirt is thrown over the back of his chair, along with blue uniform pants and a tie that he recognizes from Kamiyama High School. Another strange inconsistency with this version of reality he’s woken up in. Even if Rui were to be a high school student, he doesn’t want to be a student at Kamiyama. It’s an unremarkable, run-of-the-mill high school, not even Rui’s third choice of high schools he’s shooting for with the entrance exams that are coming up. It’s a boys’ uniform, he supposes. That’s something. With little choice but to wear the uniform that’s been left out for him, Rui notices that the pants he’s apparently left out for himself are a little on the big side; not enough for him to need a belt, but enough for him to notice, like they belong to someone else. And yet, in Rui’s own garage, who else could they belong to? Everything about this is wrong, his head is screaming at him to wake up because he’ll be late for his real school, and yet if that were to happen, it surely would have by now. He slings the tie over his neck, pulling it to a barely acceptable tightness, folds his collar down, and rolls his left sleeve up as usual. The mirror that’s propped against the wall is uncovered— he would never leave it like that— and Rui flinches a little looking at himself wearing a uniform that’s not made for him. Perhaps he somehow forgot about all his high school entrance exams, slept through them even, and it’s his first day at the shamefully average Kamiyama High School. In the reflection of the couch behind him, he notices a blue cardigan, one that he can already tell is several sizes too big. It’ll add extra protection to covering his right arm, Rui thinks, so he quickly slips into it before picking up his phone once again and getting his bag, which he discovers he had packed the night before. Uncharacteristic of him.
Everything about the garage is wrong, all the details of his life are wrong. Rui distinctly recalls hearing that if one looks at a clock in their dream, they’ll become aware that they’re dreaming and be able to control the narrative. Thinking this, Rui takes a brief detour into his home. His parents have both been at conferences for a few days, so the emptiness of the house is nothing new. It feels dreamlike for certain. Impossibly quiet, and yet lived-in, as if Rui has been spending more time in any room other than the garage; something he doesn’t recall having done particularly often in recent months especially when his parents aren’t around. If he wasn’t fairly certain that his parents are probably both giving talks to board rooms or preparing for such right this second, he’d give either of them a call to determine just what had changed, worrying them with such a sudden and unusual question be damned. He glances up at the clock above the television. 7:49AM, it’s normal, there’s nothing remarkable about the placement of the numbers or the steady movement of the second hand. Rui concentrates, trying to will a bottle of ramune into existence as proof he’s dreaming, but nothing happens. Perhaps he’s thinking about it too hard. That’s dream logic, he supposes. He sighs, slipping the shoes he was given back on.
Leaving the house, Rui briefly considers messaging Mizuki again to ask if they’re also suddenly a Kamiyama High School student, before realizing that she’s a year younger and even with this sick twist of fate she’d still be a middle school student as things are. Rui frowns, lifting his hand from his pocket before he can touch his phone. Maybe she’s not expecting to travel the full distance with Rui and they talked about that at some point in Rui’s curious months-long memory gap. Either way, Mizuki’s the person Rui trusts to see more than anyone else right now. He takes a deep breath as he descends the stairs in the next street over to Sangen-Jaya’s subway station. The station itself is the usual crowd of working adults happy to ignore the signs saying not to run up the escalators, but the train that arrives at Rui’s platform is packed like usual with students from schools all over Tokyo. It’s mostly students from the school Rui is supposed to be attending and Miyamazusaka Girls’ Academy around here. There are plenty of students wearing the uniform Rui should have gotten dressed in this morning, and Rui can’t help but feel the usual unease on even being in the same subway car as another third-year boy, but by some miracle nobody says anything to him or tries to start anything with him. Even the boy standing right next to him in the subway car that looks to be in his year and yet isn’t someone Rui recognizes. There aren’t many stops for him to dwell on this until he reaches Shibuya station, which is where he meets Mizuki at their usual spot in the underground mall. Once he disembarks from the train and heads to their usual meeting place, there’s still fifteen or so minutes before he has to be in class for registration. It seems like Mizuki’s a little late, as per usual. He scans the hallway for any signs of her, until he hears someone call his name.
“Ruiiii!”
It can’t be anyone but Mizuki. Rui turns his head to the source of the noise, and someone is running towards him. Someone in Kamiyama High School’s girls’ uniform, with hair dyed the exact shade of pink he dyed Mizuki’s a few weeks ago, far neater and longer and tied with a brown ribbon in a curled side ponytail. They have a certain look on their face, a new shine in their pink-tinted eyes. It really can’t be anyone other than Mizuki. They’re like a vision of Mizuki’s ideal self.
“Mizuki…?” Rui asks in disbelief as the shockingly Mizuki-like person draws close enough to stop running.
They nudge his shoulder. They’re almost the same height as him, which is somehow more horrifying of a thought than their sudden hair growth. “Why are you acting like you’re surprised to see me? It was your idea to meet up, man!” Mizuki’s voice is uncharacteristically cheerful. What could’ve possibly happened to her while Rui has been inexplicably out of action? Weren’t they worried about him? Wasn’t anyone?
“We haven’t talked in a while,” Rui says, which is true if their LINE chats are anything to go by.
Mizuki frowns, furrowing their brow. “We ate lunch together on Monday…?” She pauses, and then her frown is replaced with a wide smile Rui has never seen on her face before. “Aww, wait, Rui, did you miss me that much? I guess we don’t hang out as much as we used to in middle school.”
Used to? They are middle school students. Or at least, they should be, in spite of them both wearing the uniform of a high school. Rui isn’t sure how to respond to that. Perhaps Mizuki isn’t aware of this weird world like he hoped she would be. At the very least, even in this dream-like reality Rui found himself in, the matter of him and Mizuki going to school together remains consistent. “Also, Rui,” she continues, “I guess you’re really playing into the whole old days thing, huh. You even tied your hair at the side like you did back then. I guess we’re matching, though, right? Have I ever told you I started tying my hair at the side ‘cuz of you?”
Mizuki, or rather, this version of her, is so talkative. Rui still hesitates to respond to her barrage of nonsense. If it’s only been a few weeks or months, back then is hardly an appropriate term. It’s as if Rui has been lifted from his life and thrown into the future. It’s a ridiculous idea, it’s an impossible one, but it’s the only conclusion he can draw from everything he’s experienced this morning. Why he’s suddenly a high school student, why Mizuki is suddenly a high school student and why she’s going on about the old days, and all the people in his phone whom he pointedly does not know. Until he wakes up from this obvious dream, being in the future is how he’s going to treat it. Rui briefly considers the fact that he can say or do anything with no consequence, but even a fake version of Mizuki isn’t deserving of being an outlet for Rui’s anger at the world. He hesitates to think of a response. “I’m glad to see you turned out this way, Mizuki,” Rui says, because it’s true. This future Mizuki is a stark contrast to the sad-looking Mizuki he knows that rarely shows their face to the world. Mizuki’s response is to make a weird face.
“Like you’re always saying,” she says. “I’m… glad you turned out this way too. Even if I’m always teasing you.”
Mizuki’s words hit Rui like a freight train. This way implies that she expects Rui to be just as happy and carefree as she is. In this fabricated world, there apparently exists a happy ending for Rui himself, along with his friend Mizuki, which could only mean that there’s one final person whom Rui has to check is still friends with him.
Nene.
“Excuse me,” Rui says to the future Mizuki as if he couldn’t just pull out his phone and check LINE without saying anything because this is just a dream. Rui hasn’t spoken to Nene in person ever since he told her she was better off without him. It was supposed to be their final conversation. Rui was supposed to die a week later and Nene was supposed to be none the wiser and she was supposed to forget. He sees Nene at the train station or on the street sometimes. He doesn’t speak to her. How can he speak to someone who he told to leave him alone? How can he show his face to her when he isn’t supposed to even be alive? Rui is nothing if not a coward, and Nene doesn’t deserve having to worry about someone like him. She used to text him sometimes, but she’s given that up, too. In stark contrast to everything Rui has just thought about her, Nene is one of the first people that shows up in the message intray, implying their last conversation was recent. Sure enough, his last conversation with future Nene was last night, somehow.
Do u want to play minecraft w me and emu on wednesday
I opened the server again
i’m afraid i might be a little busy after school on wednesday. Rui chooses not to think about the fact that’s today.
Ur kidding, is Nene’s response to that, punctuated with several skull emojis.
Against all odds, Rui and Nene seem to be chatting like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Despite the fact this is all a dream, as Rui keeps telling himself, he can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. A selfish sigh of relief because none of this really matters, but in this saccharine reality where everyone is happy, Nene can be a part of it. Their friendship has somehow picked up where it left off before Rui told her she’d be better off not knowing him. For a second, he considers typing something, anything, to emulate a conversation with the friend he misses so much, but Mizuki’s overbearing presence leans over his shoulder.
“Checking something?” Mizuki asks like he owes her the answer, but she’s always been like this. Before he can respond, she mutters, “Ah, fuck, wait,” under her breath, pulling out her own phone from her cardigan pocket. Their phone case is glittery and pink with a charm of Mia, their favourite MiraMagi character, dangling from it. The sight of it pulls Rui away from his incessant staring at his and Nene’s messages— it’s the type of phone case the Mizuki he knows wouldn’t dare to use. She types something, then puts her phone away again just as Rui returns his to his pocket. “Sorry about that,” she says. “I remembered I told Toya-kun if I came in today that I’d see him before class to talk about homework and stuff… so I told him earlier I was coming. But I guess we’re gonna be kinda late now, so I told him to prioritize getting to class on time.”
Who’s Toya-kun? is what Rui wants to say, and could easily say, but he doesn’t in case something happens to this version of Mizuki to break their spirit and drastically change the course of the dream. Instead, he responds, “Ah, I see.” Mizuki starts walking back towards the subway station after their phone is secured in their pocket, and he has no choice but to follow. She’d know where Kamiyama High School is far better than Rui would, despite him vaguely knowing what stop to get off at. They don’t talk on their way to the platform, Rui has nothing to say that isn’t excessively questioning what’s going on, but it doesn’t seem like even this talkative, outgoing Mizuki expects them to. There are only a couple stops until the station the Kamiyama students get off at, by the looks of things.
Rui watches the ads on the train’s screens intently, searching for any clues as to what year it could be and just how far into the future he’s travelled for the purpose of this dream. There’s nothing with a year, only days and months. It’s the middle of September, from what he can gather. Mizuki’s future birthday has passed, as has his own. He wonders how old he turned and if Mizuki, if Nene was there to celebrate with him. He’d rather not think about his fifteenth birthday. It was a Sunday, so it’s not like he was at school, but he was painfully alone, just him and his parents, who he could tell were trying so hard to make it a happy day for him that it made him feel worse. In the real world, Mizuki’s fourteenth birthday has yet to happen, but he wants to show up for her if he can. No matter how wonderful the life of this future Mizuki is, the real Mizuki is just as lonely as Rui. The happy, smiling Mizuki of the future gets off the train, and Rui follows her outside. The gates of Kamiyama High School aren’t far from the stairs leading out of the station, and there are several groups of students lingering around the school gates even though it’s pretty much time for registration to begin. Nobody says anything to him or Mizuki as they head inside. They’re normal students, it would seem. They wordlessly change their shoes. Rui’s locker doesn’t have a single threatening note attached to it and the door hasn’t been kicked in and there’s no chewing gum stuck to anything. It’s almost frightening, as if everyone is planning something much worse. Mizuki doesn’t seem phased by this at all.
“Well, I’m off to class now!” they call out to Rui cheerily, before giving him a wave and briskly walking off. Rui gives them a tentative wave. What is he supposed to do now? What class is he even in? Since Mizuki’s a year younger, Rui should head to a second or third-year classroom at the very least. The first floor is made up of first-year classrooms from what Rui can see, so he makes his way to the end of the hall toward the stairwell. Once again, nobody seems to have anything to say about him. It’s weird, it’s so weird that it’s somehow worse than having insults hurled at him, but it’s not much different to the rare times his peers pretend he just doesn’t exist. That is until someone calls his name at at unbelievable volume.
“Ruuuuuuuiiiiiiiii!”
Rui’s head whips around his shoulders, frozen in place with dread as everyone else in the hallway turns to face the source of the incredible noise. Approaching him at a pace as fast as walking could possibly allow is a man with a hall monitor’s arm band and blonde hair with a pinkish-red gradient. Is Rui in trouble? It’s not like he’s done anything but be extremely confused while walking around an unfamiliar school. And how does he know his name? What right does he have to call Rui by his first name, no honorfic? Once the hall monitor reaches him, his mouth turns up in a smile so bright it’s blinding. Not in trouble, then. “Rui! Rui! I’m glad I found you before class! You see, I know we have plans to study today after school! But! I seem to have forgotten a certain item! Which! I know you said not to worry about it but I want to be super safe!” The hall monitor waves his hands around so fast he might take off.
Rui blinks in confusion. What? He never studies with others, not even Mizuki. Let alone this hall monitor— a third-year, since it’s ostensibly a third-year role— who he doesn’t recognize. There’s no way Rui is friends with him in this universe, right? At a glance, everything about his appearance screams average third-year high school boy, minus the dyed hair. However, the loud volume at which he speaks, his insistence about forgetting this secret item… it’s behaviour that Rui supposes the average person would find weird, even if it’s in a different way to Rui. If being weird is how Rui had befriended Nene, how he keeps up his relationship with Mizuki, perhaps this man really is a friend of Dream Future Rui. Not knowing anything about him or his name, Rui opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. “Ah… I… suppose we could pick it up after school…?” he ventures. That was his first thought, but God knows if it’s what Future Rui would say. The more he sees of this life, the less he understands the theoretical version of himself that everyone else apparently is expecting to see.
The hall monitor seems happy with his response. “Yes! That was my plan too! I just wanted you to know about it since I assume we’re going to your place together?”
“Yes…?” Rui responds, still uncertain.
The hall monitor nods, but suddenly his smile turns to an expression of abject shock. His face is so emotive it’s incredible. Rui follows his gaze to one of the clocks hanging on the wall by one of the first-year classrooms. 8:14. “Gah! Shit!” he yells all of a sudden, catching the attention of every student remaining in the hallway once again. “I just realized what time it is! We’re going to be late, Rui! Come on!”
With that, he turns and speed walks at an incredible pace toward the stairs. Rui has little choice but to run after him, lest he get lost again and be forced into a conversation with someone else he apparently knows. Dreams are supposed to only last a few minutes, so why is this particular one so long? Tailing after the hall monitor and struggling to keep up, Rui finds himself sat close to him in classroom 3-C. He’s a third-year in this scenario, then. He doesn’t feel much about the hypothetical passing of his eighteenth birthday. Nothing will change about Rui’s life once he actually becomes an adult, probably. As he usually would, he feels inside his shirt pocket for a pen, but there’s none to be found. No pen, no pencil, no notebook, no pencil sharpener, no lighter, his shirt pocket is completely empty. He didn’t check the bag he picked up this morning, and it seemed to be packed, so perhaps his pen is in there? He feels inside for anything, and pulls out a pencil case. Sure enough, there’s a pen in there. Rui would have thought that not having a pen at school is exactly the sort of thing that should happen in a dream, but apparently this dream school scenario is more forgiving. Listening to the morning register, Rui absentmindedly clicks the button at the tip of the pen, watching the nib poke out and retract back inside.
“Kamishiro Rui?”
Rui replies to his name like clockwork. “Present.”
He filters out the rest of the list of names, returning his focus to clicking his pen, until the teacher calls out “Tenma Tsukasa” and the hall monitor from earlier replies, “Present!” in the same extremely loud voice from earlier. It’s so loud that Rui briefly considers building a device that’ll record the volume in decibels. Being so focused on Tenma’s loud voice almost distracts Rui from the bombshell that’s just been dropped on him.
Tenma Tsukasa.
The Tsukasa-kun marked with a heart in Rui’s contact list. The chance of Rui knowing multiple Tsukasas is next to nothing, not to mention this particular Tsukasa is in Rui’s class and somehow managed to convince him to study together. Instead of feeling disgusted that Rui’s future self is adding total strangers to his contacts and then sending them romantic messages on LINE, he feels his face get hot. What kind of life-changing event could Rui possibly have gone through that has him in an honest, reciprocal relationship with someone the same age as him? He clicks his pen at a faster pace. Tenma leans in his general direction, and tries his best to whisper, “Rui, are you okay?” He sounds honest to God worried.
“Hm?”
“You only click your pen when something is bothering you,” Tenma says. “And I know what you’re like when it comes to telling people when something is bothering you.”
How is Tenma able to read him like a book? Rui likes to think he’s very good at talking about literally anyone else’s feelings other than his own and then slipping away unnoticed. But Tenma seems to be poking around like nobody ever has before. They’re close, sure, if the messages are any indication, but they shouldn’t be that close. Rui shouldn’t allow something like that to happen. “No, it’s…” Rui’s voice trails off. Perhaps if he explains the dream situation to Tenma he’ll wake up. He’s really ready to. Everything about this is shaping up to be too good to be true, and his relationship with Tenma is getting too weird even for Rui’s liking. “I’ll tell you after class.”
Tenma seems really concerned, and Rui supposes this is within his right as he returns to sitting properly at his desk, even if Rui can tell he’s become restless with worry. The class itself is unremarkable, there’s no third-year high school content that Rui isn’t already at least somewhat familiar with. Tenma follows him like a diligent dog when he exits the classroom, and Rui pulls him aside near a drinking fountain, hands tight around Tenma’s surprisingly firm shoulders.
“I’m sorry to put this on you,” he hesitates, “Tsukasa-kun,” and the second it leaves his mouth he starts to boil over with regret— he’s never calling him that again— “but you see, I’m currently dreaming about this incredible future. Telling you might cause the dream to end, and I am very ready to wake up.”
Tenma blinks at him slowly, processing the information for a second. Rui expects him to transform into a monster or die horrifically. Instead, his response is quite logical and human. “Oh! You’re trying method acting too?” he asks with wide eyes. “That’s why your hair is different today! Oh, the tiny half-ponytail is so cute!” he flicks Rui’s hair with a short finger. Method acting? Too?
“I’m not acting,” Rui replies, trying to be insistent. God, he’s so fed up of none of his attempts to wake up working. “I’m Kamishiro Rui. I’m fifteen years old, and I’m in my last year of middle school. This morning, I woke up in this strange reality where I appear to be living my future life. Because of the impossibility of this scenario, this can’t be anything other than a dream. A pitiful manifestation of my selfish desire to be seen as a person by others.”
All Tenma does is nod, like nothing about what Rui has said surprised him. “Right, right, okay, I’m Prince Bless, and I was cursed by someone, but after the curse was lifted I lost some of my memories, so I don’t remember who.”
Rui stares at Tenma hard enough to bore through him, his grip on his shoulders tightening, but he feels so weak. If it’s a dream, he should be able to do anything if he’s aware of it, so why can’t he get Tenma to listen to him?. On top of that, as if mocking him, his subconscious is pulling out the characters he created years ago while trying to make a show just for Nene. A show that he’d rather try throwing himself off the roof of his school for a second time than ever think about again. “Tenma-san…” Rui pleads, giving up on pretending he knows him. “I’m serious. There must be something different about me compared to the Rui you know.”
This seems to give Tenma some food for thought, as his brow furrows in such a way that suggests to Rui he’s actually thinking about it instead of whatever method acting nonsense he had been talking about prior. Tenma tilts his head up, then back down, then repeats the motion. Rui hasn’t thought about it until now, but they’re almost on eye level, with Tenma being barely shorter. “Wait,” Tenma says in a low voice, “Rui’s… you’re shorter than Rui. That’s… there’s… there’s no makeup or costume that could do such a thing!” Tenma’s voice raises to the volume of an earthquake alert at this revelation. “So… you’re… you’re really a younger version of Rui?!”
“Yes,” Rui replies flatly. He supposes it’s understandable for even fake people in dreams to freak out about such a thing.
“But this… this isn’t a dream! I’m fully awake, and aware, and everything!” Tenma insists. “You really, truly, somehow came from the past to take Rui’s place… but… augh! I don’t know what that could mean for the older Rui! And… how did this even happen!?”
This level of worldbuilding surely can’t exist in a dream. With how realistic everything has been so far, in spite of how unrealistic all this love Rui appears to be receiving is, he’s starting to believe that something so insane and impossible might have actually happened. Not to mention that if this was a dream, Tenma’s entire universe imploding surely would have turned him into a dragon or made his head explode in graphic detail or set the school on fire or made everything go back to what Rui’s used to and Tenma would have grabbed him by the hair and started waterboarding him with the fountain. Rui’s still here, he’s still painfully aware of everything that’s going on, so the least he can do is attempt to console Tenma. “Perhaps we swapped places,” he offers. This seems to bring no comfort to Tenma.
“But… Rui’s, I mean, your time in middle school was… ahh, he’s— you’re— doing a lot better these days, and I wouldn’t want him, you, to go through something so awful again! And then there’s the matter of, well, you being here! I don’t want you to have to go back to such a miserable life!”
Rui wishes he could pause time to take in all the information Tenma has dropped on him in just a few seconds. Tenma seems to know about his past, or rather his present. He’s disgusted and disappointed that his future self is stupid enough to tell people what happened, rather than starting a new life completely. He vowed to never tell anyone, not even his parents, once he gets to high school everything’s going to be different and he’s going to be a new Kamishiro Rui and he’s going to force himself to forget about everything. How much does Tenma know about him? How much of Rui has he seen? Rui feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He thinks back to the LINE messages that his future self had exchanged with Tenma, returning to his previous feelings of disgust. He must know so much about Rui. He might even know everything. Rui’s stupid future self has laid himself bare and shown Tenma all the damage that’s been done to him and he’s let Tenma open him up and let him scoop the rotting viscera out of his body and yet he’s still here, somehow worrying about two Ruis at once, as if Rui hasn’t been defaced beyond loving, and clearly those messages he was sending have meaning, feeling behind them. Rui wants to vomit all over Tenma’s sweater and run away forever, but he can’t move. Doing a lot better these days. He’s too curious about that. It’s the most weighted statement he’s heard. “Doing a lot better…?” he repeats, voice quiet and choked. He’ll be the judge of what better means.
“I don’t know how to say this,” Tenma admits, his voice a little shaky but surprisingly calm considering his Rui who he somehow loves very much has disappeared and been replaced with whatever Rui is right now, “but he’s, that is to say you’ve stopped hurting yourself, so that’s one thing! Oh, and, you’re always making shows for us!”
“Us,” Rui repeats, dumbfounded, too focused on that to pay any mind to the fact he’s apparently stopped hurting himself.
“Wonderlands x Showtime!” Tenma beams with his hands on his hips. “We’re a theater troupe that travels around helping out different theater groups, and we were in a movie once, and most of those shows were written and directed by you, Rui!” Tenma speaks with such fondness, his eyes shining with pride as he looks at Rui. Rui has to break eye contact. He feels guilty for some reason. He can hardly believe what he’s hearing. Shows that were written by him? How selfish.
“That’s you, myself, and…?” Rui almost doesn’t want to know who else he’s apparently roped into this theater troupe of his, if it even is his. He can’t fathom agreeing to let someone else perform anything he’d written, let alone create something for other people to perform. Now that he’s outgrown imaginative play with Nene, creating a show is purely a self-indulgent act. It’s one of the few things he has left.
“Nene and Emu,” Tenma finishes the sentence for him. Rui breathes a sigh of relief again, which he seems to only be capable of when Nene is involved. Her passion for acting and singing has somehow been reignited and that’s on top of her rebuilding her friendship with Rui from the ashes of his failed suicide attempt. All seems to be right in the world. It’s far too good to actually be true. It can’t be real. This can’t be the future Rui has wanted to throw away for years. It’s an incredible future he could only dream of and he’s so happy but it’s so incredible that he feels angry at himself for ever thinking of leaving his life behind forever. He feels a lump in his throat which he swallows down painfully. He can’t cry in front of Tenma. Rui isn’t a crier. Rui will never be a crier. Future Rui isn’t a crier either considering how amazing his life seems to be.
Tenma seems to notice that Rui is struggling to hold back his tears, as he speaks in a slightly softer voice when he says, “it’s probably a lot to take in, right?”
Rui can’t even begin to put into words just how much to take in it is. A hideous, choked gasp escapes his throat, burning and aching with his losing battle against the tears that start to stain his cheeks. Instinctively, he wipes them away with the too-long sleeve of his cardigan, his breath hitching. Rui is crying like a pathetic baby in front of someone he’s going to know in ways he can’t currently comprehend. He needs to run to the bathroom and lock himself in a stall and hope to God there’s a pencil sharpener in his bag somewhere. He needs to move more than anything. He tries to lift his leg, but his whole body trembles weakly, unmoving, as if he’s glued to the floor. He sniffles, trying to say something, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a useless sob. He can’t even explain to Tenma why he’s crying because he doesn’t really know. Is he overwhelmed with joy at the knowledge that this will be his life? Is he bitter about it taking three years? Is he angry at himself for almost throwing away his chances, for thinking nothing could get better? Rui thinks it might be everything at once, and that too is an overwhelming thought. He tries to breathe deeply to stop himself from crying, but his breaths are ragged and ugly, his throat feels raw, and the more he exposes this disgusting, pathetic side of himself to Tenma, the more he urgently, desperately needs to leave. Forever.
“Rui…” Tenma says quietly, piteously, to the point where Rui wants to push him away physically but can’t because he’s too weak and because he doesn’t really want to.
“I just can’t understand it,” Rui barely manages to say, staring so hard at his own shoes that they don’t look like real objects anymore, the nerves in his feet no longer connected to his brain. “In a way, I… I don’t want to understand it. I want to wake up. I can’t know about a future like this, knowing the life I have now. I… just…”
Rui isn’t sure where he’s going with this, but he’s silenced by Tenma’s hand on his shoulder, so warm it permeates his layers of clothing. When he dares to look up, Tenma is smiling at him so fondly he feels nauseous. It’s all wrong, it’s not right for anyone to look at someone, something like him with such love and kindness, it’s the same kind of expression that Nene would make at him and cause him to feel such horrific guilt about being anywhere near her. God, he needs to run away and hide, he needs it more than anything, more than any of this fantastical world because being alone and miserable is familiar and familiar is comforting and comforting is good and it’s what Rui needs. “I need to go,” Rui whispers, like saying it will allow him to free himself. It doesn’t.
“Go where?” Tenma asks, frowning slightly. Rui can’t well say he needs to retreat to a bathroom stall to cut himself. He swallows down another painful lump to prevent his voice from being reduced to a broken, high whine.
“I don’t know,” he lies, looking down at his shoes again. He lets out a longer, shaky breath, trying to prevent more tears falling from his eyes. “You’re right, Tenma-san. It’s a lot to take in… I suppose I’ve spent,” he swallows another painful lump in his throat, “rather a lot of time trying to convince myself that being so alone is a good thing. I have more time to build things and make shows. Shows that…” the next lump doesn’t go down half as easily, “I know nobody is going to perform.” He notices Tenma is about to say something, but he doesn’t let him continue. “A part of me is okay with that, or rather was okay with that. It’s become normal for me, it’s like a routine of sorts. Feeling like I was meant to be alone and that I should just get on with it because every time I tried to interact with people they’d take the opportunity to belittle me, somehow. Seeing all this, I can’t believe I ever lifted myself out of thinking that way. I just can’t.”
Tenma’s face looks beyond concerned in a way that Rui feels is prying open his ribcage. He can’t stand to be here any longer. He can’t stand to live in this perfect world that feels like a mockery of everything he knows about his life and how people react to seeing something like him. He can’t stand to keep pouring out his feelings to someone who knows far too much. Rui somehow regains the ability to move, and with trembling legs, he ducks under Tenma’s arm and sprints aimlessly, hoping he’ll find where the bathrooms are as he runs. He hears Tenma call out to him, but his words are indistinct, and he doesn’t follow Rui. Perhaps he’s given up on him, realized that at this stage in his life he’s not someone that should be cared about because he’s always doing things like this. His vision blurred by tears, Rui practically flies down the staircase, void of other students thanks to the ongoing classes, and spots the sign for the girls’ toilets through the fog of tears. For a second, he thinks on if he should keep running to the mens’ at the end of the corridor, but he doesn’t. There are more stalls in the girls’ toilets so there’s a higher chance he’ll find an empty one. Tenma can’t follow him into the girls’ toilets either, should he come looking. At Rui’s school, the girls’ bathroom is by far the lesser of two evils. Locking the door of the stall behind him, Rui lets out another shaky sigh of remorseful relief as he lowers the lid of the toilet and perches himself on it.
So embarassing. Careless. What was he thinking? It’s him that’s ripped the happy Rui from his comfortable life and forced him to relive his past, him who’s made Tenma worry so much, him who’s prevented the other Rui from studying after school today. Stupid, so stupid, he shouldn’t have been curious about what had happened to the world and he should have stayed at home. Rui has never learned to stop being so selfish. A pencil sharpener. He needs a pencil sharpener. His breathing ragged, Rui hurriedly unzips the bag he’s been carrying once more, rifling around for a screw; he knows he’d never not pack one for various reasons, and manages to recover several of varying sizes before landing on the smallest. He sets it on the tank behind the toilet as he picks up and unzips the pencil case, madly searching for a pencil sharpener as his head begins to hammer with his own indecipherable thoughts. It’s his fault all this happened. His fault for being selfish. Perhaps if he suffers for it like he should he’ll go back to normal. Tenma will see the fresh blood dripping from his sleeve and be disgusted enough to start treating him like Rui’s more familiar peers from middle school. With shaking fingers, Rui pulls out a tiny plastic pencil sharpener, the screw and blade gleaming under the white lights of the bathroom like he’s about to lift Excalibur from the stone. He takes another deep breath as he lifts the screwdriver from the tank and gets to work unscrewing the blade. The thought alone is enough to have calmed his tears. It’s pathetic, relying on hurting himself to deal with these feelings. His future self must have lied about stopping. He’s probably just doing it on a different area of his body. He’s known for too long that nothing else works. With the blade pinched between two thin fingers, Rui briefly considers finding a lighter to sterilize the metal, but he quickly rationalizes that seemingly deleting the happier Rui from the world and erasing his progress is too grave a selfish mistake for him to deserve cleanliness.
Rolling up the sleeve of both the oversized blue cardigan and his white shirt, Rui takes a second to examine the array of shallow cuts on his right arm already starting to heal. These will fade with time, Rui’s sure of it, but in a twisted way he doesn’t want them to. Drawing a sharp intake of breath, Rui presses the blade of the pencil sharpener to his skin, quickly painting a thin, horizontal line of crimson, watery droplets of blood beading on the surface and catching the light like pearls. He exhales slowly through clenched teeth as the stress and racing thoughts and feelings flooding his head and chest melt away into a familiar stinging sensation. Just a couple more and he’ll be okay, he thinks. He presses the blade to his skin a second time, but as he does so, he hears footsteps.
“Rui?”
Rui’s heart sinks into the deepest pits of his stomach and the blade of the pencil sharpener clatters to the floor. It’s Nene’s voice.
“Tsukasa pulled me out of class and explained everything to me,” Nene continues. “At first I thought he was joking, but… he seemed really serious about it. He said you freaked out in front of him and ran and he asked me what to do, so… I came looking for you. I figured you’d be in here since you used to do this when we went out together.”
Rui can’t speak. His vocal cords feel like they’ve been torn from his throat. Nene. Nene, of all people. How can he show his face to her? Nene, who he’s been ignoring, Nene who’s better off without him, Nene who’s somehow used to a happier Rui at this point in her life and has probably blocked all memories of this version of him from her mind for her own betterment.
“I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to,” Nene continues like she can read Rui’s mind. “But I understand you better now, Rui. You’re the same Rui I’ve always been friends with. So I just… I don’t know,” Rui hears Nene jump to sit on the sinks, she isn’t going anywhere, “I’m not sure what I want the outcome of this to be. I just don’t want you to feel sad about it. I want you to know that having a happy future is a good thing.”
Rui clutches his bleeding forearm with his left hand, trying not to cry again. “Nene,” is all he can offer up. A confirmation that he’s here. A feeble resistance against everything telling him to keep ignoring her. It seems to hurt more, the awareness of the blood staining the palm of his hand.
“So you are here…” Nene’s voice sounds more relieved than anything. She has a strange confidence in her voice, one that Rui hasn’t heard much before, but it seems to punctuate her every word. “You don’t have to talk to me. I just don’t want you to be alone today. I, never wanted that for you,” she says with some hesitation. “When you stopped talking to me, I worried so much, Rui.”
“I’m sorry,” Rui replies feebly, as if it’ll change the past, as if it’ll put the Nene of his world at ease.
“I didn’t message, I didn’t call, I didn’t say hi to you in the street because the thought of you ignoring me was scary,” Nene continues. “Maybe I’m in the wrong for that. Maybe if I said something it would’ve stopped you from…”
“No,” Rui cuts her off, and immediately regrets it, “you couldn’t have done anything. That’s why I told you to leave me alone in the first place."
Nene doesn’t seem to have a response for this, there’s just silence. Rui can’t hear her move, he’s attentively listening to every breath she takes because if he’s made her cry he’s picking up that blade again. He shuffles back on the closed toilet seat, hugging his knees close to his chest. It seems not even his future self has told Nene that yet. Has he fucked the entire future up? Has he ruined his future self’s relationships too? Rui scrunches his eyes tightly and buries his face into his knees. He can’t do anything right. He’s nothing if not selfish, and everything he does hurts everyone around him and the sooner he realizes that the better. As far as he’s convinced, there’s no better future out there than one without Kamishiro Rui.
“Come out, Rui,” Nene says softly, her voice unwavering. Rui’s a mess. Showing himself to Nene in this state would only remind her of everything he used to be and would make her upset.
“You’ll get upset,” he replies flatly.
“Seeing you never made me upset back then.”
Rui swallows another lump in his throat.
“I mean it,” she adds.
Rui slides his feet forward, conflicted. He finds it hard to imagine that Nene could possibly stand to see him like this, his eyes puffy, hair disheveled, arm freshly sliced open and blood still beading on the surface. It’s an upsetting image for any sane person, Rui is sure of it. On the other hand, continuing to hide himself away from Nene is a testament to his selfishness and his uncontrollable tendency to hurt people. Going against her wishes like that when they’d spent most of their childhood bouncing off each other’s ideas. He purses his lips together to prevent his breath hitching loudly in front of her, and gets to standing, the pain in his legs he felt that morning flaring up again and making him wince. He shoves the screwdriver hastily back in his bag and slings it over his shoulder before unlocking the door with a shaking hand.
Nene is the same as ever, yet different. Wearing her uniform as neatly as one could, hands folded in her lap and creasing the blue checked skirt of the Kamiyama girls’ uniform. Her hair is dyed a modest shade of green, roots barely visible, long strands framing her face tied at either side in bunches. Her eyes have more of a sparkle to them, especially when she looks at Rui. Rui fights every single nerve in his body to not steal a glance at his own reflection.
“Nene,” Rui says again.
“It really is you from back then.” Nene’s voice is quiet and breathy, as if she couldn’t quite believe it even after hearing Rui’s voice and getting an explanation from Tenma. She hops down from the sink. She’s gotten a lot taller since middle school; her and Rui are almost the same height as it stands. Before Rui can say a word, Nene throws her arms around his shoulders, in a deeper embrace than Rui’s ever felt from anyone other than his parents. Rui wants to wrench her away from him and lock himself in the stall again for a reason he doesn’t even know this time, but he stays. Nene buries her face in his shoulder, and Rui tentatively returns the hug. He can’t cry again knowing he has to return to a world where he refuses to look Nene’s way.
“I’m sorry,” is all Rui can say.
“I already forgave you, Rui,” Nene mumbles into his shoulder. “You have so much in your future, you know that now, right?”
Rui swallows thickly, unsure what he’s even trying to keep down. “It’s hard to cope with knowing.”
“Your life has just started. You’re fifteen, you’re not even in high school yet. I never wanted you to give up on your dreams. Even after I made that huge mistake in front of you, in front of everyone, I still had a burning desire to do what I loved no matter what. And it’s you who really made that happen for me, Rui. Even if you don’t believe me. Even if you think it’s impossible because of where you and me are at in your world.” Nene’s words are gentle but firm, whispered into Rui’s hair, her breath barely catching on Rui’s ear. “We’re the same because we’re different. There are so many people like us in the world. I don’t know if you care about what I’m saying, I just… I don’t know. I don’t want you to suffer and feel hopeless, even if I know it’s something you recover from. I don’t want to send you back into suffering.”
Rui opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a tiny, choked noise. He has no idea what to say to that. The promise of a good future, of a rekindled friendship with Nene, of seemingly everything he could have ever wanted. It’s impossible. Rui wants to scold himself for almost throwing it all away at the school festival a few months back. But as impossible as it has seemed, it’s all so real. Mizuki. Tenma. Nene. All his other contacts whom he hasn’t had the chance to meet: Shiraishi, Emu, Toya, people who presumably will come to care for him and look out for him enough to send a message every once in a while, or walk to school together, or simply spend time eating lunch or studying like a normal high school student would. Gone seem to be the days of eating lunch on the rooftop with Mizuki for little reason other than them both being afraid of what could happen if they ate it around others. Gone are the days of having group project work pinned on him alone or else. Rui inhales deeply, then breathes out a long sigh of relief, finally content in returning Nene’s hug. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats. “It’s a lot. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get home. It might make me feel worse. I really don’t know.” He pauses for a second. “I’m scared,” he admits. “But I’ll try to hold on to hope. I…”
Rui hesitates. The weight of what he’s about to say is incredible. It’s something he hasn’t even realized himself until Nene laid it out for him. “I don’t want to give up on my dreams either. I’ve been justifying being alone for so long, saying it’s giving me ideas for shows, but I suppose there’s little value in a show without an audience. I’ve been reading so much, thinking so much, and yet I have nobody to share my ideas with.”
Nene pauses for a second, then nestles her head slightly closer to Rui’s ear. “The Townspeople and the Forest People,” she says softly. Rui feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “We performed it, and Emu got to do the stunt you imagined back then.”
Rui laughs, forcing a smile onto his face. “Nene… you don’t have to say such outlandish things as an attempt to cheer me up.”
“Rui, I’m serious!” Nene replies with a slightly harsher tone. “Not only that, but The Princess and the Cursed Flower, too. At the Center Theater in Tokyo Arcland, no less.”
“Nene…” She’s deadly serious, Rui can tell by the way she speaks.
“Wonderlands x Showtime has given us the opportunity to follow our dreams together, at least a little bit. So please, hold onto that hope, and don’t ever think of giving up again.” Nene’s voice wavers slightly as she finishes speaking, before she buries her face into the crook of Rui’s neck, embracing him even tighter.
“I’ll do my best for you, Nene,” Rui says shakily. “I promise.”
Nene seems satisfied with this, as she releases her tight grip on Rui, pulling back to gently take hold of his hands, not paying the drying blood soaked into his palm any mind. “Thank you.” Nene’s purple-tinted eyes are almost on level with Rui’s own. “I’m glad we’re still friends despite everything.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause with a loud silence that hangs heavily in the air. “Me too.”
“I should get back to my next class,” Nene eventually says to break the second palpable silence that follows. “Tsukasa pulled me out of the one I was just in because of this emergency. Which was his decision and not your fault,” she quickly adds like she can read Rui’s mind. “I don’t know if I’ll see you again like this, so… take care, okay?” Nene gives Rui a soft smile, one that he’s not seen her earnestly make since they were in elementary school, and all Rui can do is give his tiniest, most pathetic overwhelmed-with-emotions nod in her direction. He feels the corners of his mouth turn up into something that resembles a smile. He doesn’t need the mirror to know it’s crooked and his lips are trembling.
“Yeah.” Rui’s voice is smaller, higher than he’d like. He feels so vulnerable that it’s sickening. He rolls his sleeves back up, covering the blood that’s begun to clot, and as Nene lets go of his hands he combs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to flatten it out a little more, blinking and squinting like it’ll make the fact he was crying a bit less obvious. “Thank you, Nene.” He steels his nerves, needing to get a feel for how his voice is going to sound once she leaves him alone and he’ll be inevitably made to contend with more people that know him but whom he does not know. “I mean it,” he adds in case she somehow doesn’t understand.
“You’re welcome,” is the last thing Nene says to him before she gives him another fond smile and leaves for her class. Rui should probably also go to the final class of the day; he feels like he’s been away from class long enough to land his future self in potential trouble. Gathering his courage to leave the girls’ bathroom, adjusting the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder, Rui briefly scans the corridor so that nobody sees him leave and wonders why a student everyone presumably views as a man would be in there in the first place. With the coast clear, Rui leaves the relative safety of the girls’ bathroom and begins to make his way back to the classroom he was in this morning. His throat still hurts a little from trying not to cry, so he makes a point of using the drinking fountain he stood beside while trying to confront Tenma earlier. Thinking about that conversation makes him shudder. He has to face Tenma in class again, there’s no way around it, but perhaps Tenma’s hall monitor diligence will prevent him from trying to talk to Rui and Rui can avoid another uncomfortable conversation with him.
Rui knocks on the door to Class 3-C, apologizing for his lateness, which seems to stir some conversations in his future classmates because apparently this is uncharacteristic of him. He shuffles his way to the seat next to Tenma, who looks at him with an expression that Rui, master of deciphering the emotions of others, cannot quite read. Is it somehow obvious to him that Nene’s conversation with Rui went as well as it could have? Does he not know at all? Is he worried? Rui tries not to look back at him. He can save the conversation until school has ended, if Tenma really wants to know anything.
Rui’s final class of the day is physics, which is something Tenma appears to be struggling with immensely. In spite of the awkwardness, Rui offers him help, to which he refuses. Rui can tell by his strangely polite refusal that the idea of being taught physics by a fifteen year old is deeply humiliating, which Rui supposes is fair. Regardless, it’s relatively painless work for Rui himself, and he finds himself with some spare time left over after completing the worksheet. He makes a point of not clicking his pen absentmindedly, lest he feel that he’s back at square one with Tenma asking him if he’s okay. Rui’s not sure how to answer that now, should he ask again. Rui watches the clock closely, despite the fact that he’s well aware doing so will make fifteen minutes stretch into fifteen years, in anticipation for when the strangest school day he’s ever had in his life will come to a close.
Every second feels like an hour, especially as Rui watches the second hand steadily tick away; it’s like how he stared at the clock in his own home this morning to try and figure out if he was dreaming. Still displaying every number where it should be, still ticking each second as a normal clock would, still a reminder that somehow this is real. He returns his pen to his pencil case and then to his bag as the final minute begins, and by the time the second hand meets the minute hand at zenith, he’s silently packed everything away just as he would at school normally in order to make the fastest getaway from campus as humanly possible. There’s no sense of urgency, but Rui’s so used to grabbing his bag and leaving that the thought of doing anything else still tricks his mind into thinking danger awaits if he lingers here for too long. As he leaves the classroom, he hears a familiar, extremely loud voice once again.
“Rui!” Tenma pushes past the other students with significantly quieter “excuse me”s, and greets Rui with an impossibly wide smile when he turns around. “I was going to study with the future you today, but, well, there’s not much point in doing that with a middle school student…”
“I could most likely help you anyway, Tenma-san,” Rui offers. He means it. It’s not like he has anything else to do.
“No, Rui, really… I’ll just study at home…” Tenma still seems deeply embarassed by the idea of being helped by someone younger than him, which Rui still can’t fault him for. It’s very fair. “So I’m not going to buy study materials on the way home either. I’ll walk you home instead, is that okay?”
Rui has no idea why Tenma can’t just buy the study materials now so that his future self doesn’t have to go with him later, but perhaps that’s part of the appeal. Perhaps Rui likes going to Don Quixote with Tenma to buy erasers and pencils, not because they need to but because they’re together and it’s fun. He supposes walking home with Tenma will give him just a taster of such a feeling. “Thank you, Tenma-san.”
“You’ve not moved or anything in the past few years, right? I’m sure you haven’t, I swear you’ve told me you’ve always lived in Sangen-Jaya, but just in case…”
“The same house, yes,” Rui replies. “I’ve lived there ever since I was born. I’m glad to know that won’t change in the next three years at least.” Rui manages a small smile, trying his best to maintain eye contact with Tenma without getting burnt to death by his radiant smile. The fact he cares so much for Rui is just as uncomfortable, just as sickening as it felt hours ago, but Rui trusts himself to trust him. He’s glad someone like this really exists and could help land Rui back on his feet to patch things up with Nene properly.
The two of them begin their walk back to the subway, and although Tenma doesn’t speak, Rui can tell by the expression on his face that he really, really wants to talk more than anything. There must be so much he doesn’t know, that Rui doesn’t want him to know, that he knows Rui knows he doesn’t want him to know. Rui starts the conversation instead. There’s plenty he wants to know too.
“So, you mentioned method acting and our theater troupe earlier, and Nene was talking about those shows we did. As unbelievable as all of that was, am I correct in my assumption that you’re an actor?” Rui asks as they descend the stairs, Tenma in front of him as if he’s Rui’s personal bodyguard.
“That’s right!” Tenma declares loudly with a proud laugh. “Wonderlands x Showtime’s star actor, that’s Tenma Tsukasa! Last name meaning soaring pegasus! First name meaning to govern! I’m just the kind of top star you’ve always wanted as an actor, Rui!”
Rui can’t help but giggle. “Oya, is that so? Ah, well, at the moment all of my shows are a one-man job, and I can’t say I particularly want anyone to act for me…”
“D-Don’t say that!” Tenma protests as they walk past the underground Lawson to reach the platform. “It makes my introduction sound like it needs a fact check!”
Rui giggles again. “I’m sure my future self can attest that this is all true.” He follows Tenma through the IC card gates. Thankfully he has his future self’s Suica on hand, or he might have run into an expiry date related problem.
“I mean, you’re in the shows too, Rui.” Tenma says like Rui was expecting it as they descend the final set of stairs and stand behind the yellow line on the platform.
Rui tilts his head. Thinking about it, he supposes he would be. There are roles he’s written for plays with multiple actors that have him in mind. “Let me guess. I’m the officer’s lieutenant sent by the minister in The Townspeople and the Forest People, and I’m Nido in The Princess and the Cursed Flower.”
Tenma looks shocked for some reason. “Yes! You seem to have a real affinity for playing villain characters, and I think it’s something you do very well! At first, it surprised me… I didn’t think someone so kind could play a convincing villain, but your performance as the officer’s lieutenant really blew me away…”
Rui can’t do anything but smile weakly. “A real affinity, hm?” he repeats. “Well, I trust that your assessment of my future acting skills is accurate.”
The train arrives at the platform, and there’s a busy exchange of students from other schools getting off and Kamiyama students getting on. Tenma expertly blocks anyone else from sitting in the seat he’s stood in front of so he can offer it to Rui. Rui thanks him. Such a random act of kindness is almost scary. Sitting down on a subway train is a rare luxury, one that he hardly is able to experience, but it’s more than welcome. Even if it’s only for a couple of stops. Him and Tenma are both fixated on the ads, like they’re watching them together, even though it’s not Monday and Tenma has probably seen every ad twenty times over. They don’t talk between boarding the train and getting off. The sheer volume of Tenma’s voice most likely counts as disruptive towards other passengers.
Shibuya station is packed with high schoolers from all manner of schools, as well as students who attend the school Rui is supposed to be at. Seeing the uniform makes Rui flinch, even though he’s more than secure in the knowledge that none of these people know who he is. He finds himself almost ducking behind Tenma in spite of his shorter height. “Didn’t you also say something about a movie?” Rui asks to try and distract himself.
“We were only extras,” Tenma admits, “But you ended up helping the director a bit. Oh, and then you were in an ad he directed too.”
“An ad?” Rui echoes, incredulous, as they approach the Denentoshi line. “Directed by someone else? As an actor?”
“Yeah! Apparently your face could make you a model or idol!”
Rui feels his face get hot. “I don’t know about that. It must have been for another reason.”
“I suppose you’ll find out in three years time!” Tenma says, like he’s trying to make this a fun mystery game. Rui nudges him gently.
“Tenma-san, that’s hardly fair…” Rui doesn’t expect him to reveal anything more as they descend to the platform.
“Surely if I say too much, it could mess up the timeline.” Tenma speaks more cautiously than usual, so it’s clear to Rui that he really believes what he’s saying.
“I suppose,” is Rui’s response. All he can think of, really. The conversation lulls to nothing as the train pulls up. It’s twenty minutes from here to Sangen-Jaya, so that’s twenty minutes of looking at the same ads in silence. Rui is fairly sure Tenma is incapable of whispering, or he would surely have tried it. Once again, Tenma fights off the rest of the general public to save Rui a seat. Having a seat on a longer subway journey is a blessing fit for such a perfect, idealistic world, Rui thinks. The subway journey feels almost peaceful. It’s been a long, unbelievable and confusing day, and yet here Rui is, sat in a subway car, protected by someone who unconditionally cares about him thanks to knowing his future self so intimately. If he didn’t know better, if it was a long journey that took him out of central Tokyo, he could well have fallen asleep under Tenma’s watchful eye.
The ads loop once, twice. There’s a lot of things to advertise. Tourist attractions, museums, video games, just small hints at what’s happening in the near future. Rui decides not to pretend he’s “predicted” any video games or movies with Mizuki. Like Tenma said, it could well do something to the timeline that endangers his future self or the connections he’s made. Best live life alone, quietly, without interrupting anything, without fighting back. Rui briefly wonders what’s changed. He knows all of these things now, and yet once he somehow gets back to his own time, he has no choice but to keep leading his lonely, miserable life, with a bright future so near yet so far, barely out of reach. How will he cope? How can he?
Rui’s thoughts are interrupted by the intercom’s announcement that Sangen-Jaya will be the next stop. He stands up, slinging his bag over his shoulder while remaining conscious of Tenma and the other passengers, and steps onto the platform, Tenma right behind him.
“Thank you again, Tenma-san,” Rui says as if Tenma doesn’t know how grateful he is. “For walking me home, and, I suppose…” he hestitates. “For telling Nene to look for me.”
Tenma looks a little taken aback when Rui turns to listen to him on the escalator. “Nene told me that right now, you and her aren’t talking much, so we didn’t know if that would work…”
“I think it was something I needed to hear.” Rui turns away from Tenma while saying this. “I don’t know how my relationship with Nene can ever be fixed. But to hear things from a future Nene that prove she still wants to be friends with me, that we stay friends, I can’t help but feel less guilty about how our relationship is now.”
Tenma walks next to Rui as they exit the station and begin the short walk to Rui’s house. “In that case, I’m glad it worked! Although it’s very strange that you even swapped places with Rui in the first place. I’m sure you don’t have any idea why it happened.”
Rui and Tenma walk past the Baskin-Robbins that Rui used to go to with Nene and their mothers on weekends as a treat. He knows it’s still open in the future thanks to his texts with Mizuki, but it's somehow more relievinng to see it unchanged in person. “I’m just as clueless as you are. As you can imagine, I haven’t wished for anything like this.”
Tenma looks deep in thought as they turn down the road before Rui’s. “Well, the other day we did do an activity at school where we had to say who we’d like to swap places with for a day. I don’t know who Rui wrote, though. I’ll have to ask him when he’s back!” He says when so definitively. “Besides, I wrote Asahi-san’s name— he’s another actor that we know— and, well, it doesn’t look like I’m living his life!”
Rui places a hand to his chin in contemplation. “It would be quite amusing if that were the case. Additionally, it’s only a day, so it eases my worries about when your Rui will return.”
Tenma laughs. “Imagine if that were really the reason. It’s a pretty Rui thing to say, too. I can just imagine him saying, I’d like the opportunity to swap places with my middle school self.” Tenma’s imitation of Rui is both hilariously and terrifyingly accurate, pronoun switch and all. Rui giggles at it nonetheless, and before he knows it he’s in front of his house, the garage calling to him so he can put his bag away before the house itself does.
“I suppose this is goodbye, Tenma-san,” Rui says softly. “Once again, thank you very much for looking out for me. I apologize for what happened earlier.” Rui nods his head in Tenma’s direction to serve as a tiny bow.
“No need to apologize, Rui!” Tenma replies, beaming. “It must have been scary, and I’m sorry I didn’t catch on sooner. If by some chance things aren’t normal tomorrow, I’ll be here to spend time with you once again! We all will!”
Rui can feel a notably happier, more grateful lump in his throat. “I see how I ended up friends with you, Tenma-san. You’re like an unstoppable force that turns me from an immovable object to a movable one.”
Tenma’s face falls. “Gah! Don’t make this about physics!” He clutches his head in his hands briefly as if to dispel the thought. “I appreciate it, though. Of course!” he adds. “And please take care, Rui! I know it’s hard, but you have a wonderful life ahead, and I’m so lucky to be your friend.”
“Lucky…” Rui has made a habit of repeating Tenma’s words in disbelief. “I hope you take care too, Tenma-san. Of both yourself and of me. Although, I’m sure you have been.” Rui elects not to tell Tenma that he’s seen their future message history. “Goodbye, now. And good luck with physics, too,” he adds with a giggle.
“You know I need it!” Tenma responds haughtily, before regaining his composure. “Yes! Well! Goodbye, younger Rui!”
Rui decides it’s best to return home before he cries in front of Tenma yet again and tarnishes Tenma’s last memory of him. He gives him one final wave as Tenma walks backwards down the street and waves until he’s completely out of sight, eyes sparkling with his own unshed tears. Rui laughs, but a sob escapes his throat at the same time. He’ll have three years to discover what he could’ve possibly done to be deserving of such incredible friendships. He unlocks the door to the garage, and steps inside.
The second Rui steps into the garage, he feels faint, his vision blurring, his limbs becoming heavy and weak and useless. Stumbling for something with a huge black blur in the center of everything he sees, Rui almost trips, collapsing onto the couch, his bag slipping from his shoulder and clattering to the floor. He breathes heavily, trying to recover from the sudden onslaught of disorientation, screwing his eyes up tightly and finding they’re impossible to reopen. Rui’s thoughts begin to swim, they’re running away and thinking things that don’t make sense and that Rui himself didn’t consciously imagine, and soon they’re nothing at all. He can’t stay awake. Utterly defeated by the strange sickness that has overcome him so suddenly, Rui loses consciousness.
It’s dark when Rui wakes up. He blinks slowly. He must have fallen asleep while working on his group project again. Everyone else working on it left it to him, because of course they did. It’s a little funny, honestly. Rui’s mind rudely awoke him from a dream where he was a high school student with so many friends, not that he can remember much details, no names or faces. And yet, he can’t shake the feeling that even within his dream, he resigned to do something important. He rolls over to concentrate, and there’s a new, sharper stinging in his right arm; something that shouldn’t be possible, but it’s not far-fetched to knock a scab off while he’s asleep. He desperately tries to recall the “plot” of his dream, and vaguely remembers going to school with Mizuki, and running away from someone, and having a talk with Nene about something. His friend, Nene, who was talking to him. His friend, Nene, who he misses terribly. Rui zeroes in on this detail, trying to remember what she said. Something about how she didn’t message because she was worried Rui wouldn’t reply, that’s it. Rui shakes his head as if to knock the dream out of his mind’s eye. It may have been a dream, but clearly it’s a manifestation of Rui’s desire to reconnect with Nene, that he knows she doesn’t hate him, that she looks sad when they pass on the street because she’s desperate to reconnect.
With trembling hands, Rui pulls his phone from his breast pocket. It’s been months since Nene messaged him, a simple, I hope ur school festival goes well, a message sent the day before Rui decided he’d better not show his face to her ever again. Somehow, by some miracle, Rui feels as if he’s rehearsed this moment hundreds of times, like he’d been preparing it while he was asleep. He doesn’t hesitate at all, his thumbs dancing over the keys, as he types, nene, i’m really sorry i’ve been avoiding you. i would still like to be friends.
The embarassment hits him like a truck, and he shuts his phone off just as quickly as he sends the message. He’ll have to check it later, but it’s one of those messages that makes him feel as if he ought to destroy his phone with a power saw. Something he could easily do in the garage. For now, he’ll get to work on the group project and check his phone again when he’s done. He sighs, rolling onto his side to get into a standing position, and makes his way to the desk.
The poster is laid out neatly on the table, in a way he doesn’t remember organizing it, and pencils, pens and markers are strewn around the desk. Rui takes a quick glance at it to remind himself of what it’s about, but he finds himself frozen in place.
Everything has been finished for him, in his own handwriting, while he was asleep.