Work Text:
The sky was heavy with rain. It wasn’t raining, but Isagi was sure it was going to, in a bit.
He sighed and got on the train. He thankfully found a seat, and he slowly sat down.
He checked the time, it was barely four in the afternoon, the sun would have set in a few. He put his phone back in his pocket and leaned his head on the window beside him.
What a day for a trip. I should have gone sooner today, he couldn’t help but think.
There was silence in his head. He stayed still, unmoving, waiting for an answer, a comeback, something.
No voice could be heard.
He closed his eyes and turned up the volume of the music he was listening to. He let the unfamiliar words that were being sung wash over his mind, he sighed again, turning the volume up a bit more as soon as he heard a thought over the singing.
He got off the train twenty minutes later, and waited on a bench for the other train. The song had been in loop ever since he had gotten on the train, and he wasn’t about to change it. He had always been one to indulge in the emotions that music made him feel, and, at that moment, he simply needed that melody, that rhythm, to stay there.
To think about him, or not think about him, he still wasn’t sure if his mind was empty or just full enough to seem calm.
It wasn’t important enough to dwell on it.
After another hour on a train and a while on a bus, Isagi found himself in a town. It wasn’t too big, but it seemed small enough to be filled with voices, with familiarity and knowledge.
He walked among the streets of the place, everything was dark, unmoving, it was barely dinner time, but that town wasn’t as full of people as Saitama usually was. The smell of rain was getting stronger, it was starting to annoy him a bit. A gentle breeze was blowing. Isagi fought a smile at that realization.
He started running only when he checked his phone and saw that the florist was about to close while he was still a good seven minutes from it.
Of course, the sky decided to start crying only at that moment. Isagi cursed his bad luck and ran faster. Water started to get into his shoes, on his face, he didn't have time to care. He put on his hood and hoped it could have helped. Opening his umbrella would have just made him fumble and fight with the wind, so he didn't even try to do that.
He was gasping for air when he reached the shop, the man who worked there was getting the flowers inside the place, as it was closing time. Isagi walked up to him and tried to ask for a flower.
A coral rose, he pleaded, I just need one coral rose, but I’ll understand if it’s too late now.
Ah, sure, you don’t have to worry about it, he had a kind smile on his face, for a date?
Kind of, he simply said, it’s complicated.
No worries, roses always leave a good impression on girls, you’re too young to fully mean a red rose, but I’m sure you’ll get there eventually, he handed him the flower, Isagi gave him his money, best of luck with everything.
Isagi smiled, bowed in salute, and walked to the cemetery.
It wasn’t too far from the flower shop, and that too was just about to close.
He should have gone there sooner, maybe on a sunnier day, maybe in the morning, maybe when there was more light, that way, he could have checked the tombs better, that way, he wouldn’t have had the anxiety of maybe missing his name, that way—
Isagi ripped the corded earphones from his ears, took a deep breath, and entered the garden of the dead.
He walked for a while, quietly observing every grave, every stone, looking for a name, a single, familiar name.
He found it in a corner of the place, near other tombs of teens, of people who had left reality far too early.
His tombstone was simple, his name was engraved on it, there was a photo of him, he was smiling a smile full of teeth that didn’t reach his eyes.
Isagi smiled. He kneeled to the ground and put the rose in the little vase with small yellow flowers.
“I’m sorry I’m this late,” he muttered, “I didn’t have the guts to face you.”
There was silence in the place, only the blowing of the wind and the falling of the rain could be heard.
“I was scared,” he continued, “still am, you know, I… it’s all just so… real, isn’t it? Me being here makes you being gone such a real thing, even if you always were.”
He smiled. “I was never good at realizing that, not even when you could still talk to me, do you remember? I cried so many times because I sometimes suddenly realized that it was all going to end eventually. I…
“I guess I’m just stupid. A stupid coward, I… I wish I had told you so many more things. I wish we had experienced so many more things. I was naive enough to hope you would have stayed with me until my end.
“That’s my fault, though, not yours, not in any way. I know you don’t have a saying in any of this, I… I hope you too wished you could have stayed more.
“I wish I could be selfish.
“I wish this was more… conventional, I wish I could have dragged you with me and not made you go away, I wish I could have screamed to whatever decided your fate to let you stay here, we all talk about egoism and all, but really, I…
“I just miss you,” his voice cracked at those words, he took in a sharp breath, squeezed his eyes and let his sight be a bit less blurry, his face a bit wetter. “I miss you so much, every day, every minute, the more you’re gone, the more I feel empty, I… I don’t even know how to explain it, who to talk to, I…
“I love you,” his chest ached, he let a sob leave his lips, “I loved you when you were here and I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you, my life might go on, I might meet more people, but I… I’ll always end up here, kneeling before a tombstone, talking to nothing at all.”
The silence of the place didn’t falter. Isagi dried his eyes with his wet sleeves and stood up. It didn't really help, but there wasn't much else he could have done.
He looked at the tomb for a few more moments, he reached for it with a hand.
It was cold.
For a fraction of a second, Isagi felt at home.
He flinched, retracting his hand, he turned from it and walked away.
He sat on a bench outside the cemetery, and cried.
Head in his hands, he let all the frustration and emptiness in himself out with that simple action. He would have wanted to scream his heart out, he would have wanted to dig his nails in his forehead enough to make it bleed, but he simply sobbed as rain poured over him and his thoughts were only on that name, on that person, on his smile and his laughter and his cries. He could almost hear him whisper in his mind, Such a crybaby you are, he could see the smile on his face, let it all out, Yoichi, it’s oke.
He startled when he heard someone call him, not by his name, a simple Excuse me?, he looked up and saw a woman standing a bit far from him, she was holding a golden umbrella over herself.
“Are you okay?” she asked, worry clear in her voice.
Isagi nodded furiously, he shook his head, a small laugh left his lips. “I am, thank you.”
“You're not from here, are you?” she asked, a smile on her face.
Isagi nodded. “Is it that obvious?”
“We all know each other in this town, I’ve never seen you around.”
“Mh,” How many of them knew? How many of them did nothing? “I should get going then.”
“Oh, sorry,” she seemed almost panicked, “I wasn't trying to tell you to go away, I…”
“It's okay, Miss, no harm done, I should really go, I… I did what I had to do, I think, I—” he checked his phone, trying to find the timetable of the buses in that area he had found online.
“The next bus stops at the main square in two hours,” the woman informed him, “there's no other bus that stops here before that.”
Great. Isagi’s sight got blurrier, he couldn't cry because of a stupid bus and the need to get away from there, but he felt more of a mess than usual. That wasn't really good, but he couldn't do much about it. “Thank you, uh… do you know a café or anything where I could wait? I don't really want to get too soaked before going.”
The woman thought about it. “There's one, it's about half an hour by foot from here, if you feel like walking.”
“Better than nothing, I guess… Thank you, Miss…?”
“You can call me Yuu,” she smiled, “do you need an umbrella? I have a spare one with me.”
“No need, I have one, I'm just dumb enough not to have realized I had it.”
He was taking it from his pocket when she spoke again. “It's not dumb.”
“Uh?”
“Wanting to be washed over by the rain, it's not dumb at all,” she had a far gaze, as if she wasn't really there, “sometimes, letting nature take over us is the best way to let go of something we can't express.”
Isagi didn't answer for a few moments. “I guess that's true, I…”
He didn't know why he wanted to talk, he had no idea, at all, but he couldn't help but continue.
“I had a… friend, from here,” he said, “I’ve postponed coming here to see him for months now, I… we met in… unfortunate circumstances. In a way, we never really met at all, but I…” he sighed, he bit his lip and hoped it would stop trembling that much. “I miss him, I— I wish I had met him before, I wish I could have helped him, I’ve wished for that ever since I met him, but he… I—” he sobbed and his hand flew to cover his mouth, he squeezed his eyes, he looked down. “I don't know, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she took a step towards him, “it's okay, I… do you want to stay a bit at my house? It's a few minutes from here, I can't offer you much, apart from a warm cup of tea and some sweets, if that's okay for you.”
Isagi didn't know what to answer. He nodded, and the woman smiled.
The walk to her house was silent, Isagi let go of the question in his mind only as he was putting on the spare slippers Yuu offered him. “Why are you helping me?”
She seemed almost taken aback by that question. She smiled a warm smile. “You remind me of my son.”
Isagi didn't expect that. “Oh.”
“I just…” she looked away, “I was mother, why would I not help a crying teenager?”
Isagi nodded.
Yuu then offered him some clothes, and Isagi tried all he could think of to refuse. She insisted a lot, saying that he would have caught a cold if he were to stay in his wet clothes. Isagi sighed, and offered her a smile before she left him alone in the living room to take those clothes.
He was still, standing in that room, he was quietly observing the place: there was a small sofa, a table for two, and some pictures hung on the walls; they were all paintings, abstract ones, most were filled with bright colors, only one had a completely red background and splashes of white, gray and black, there were some yellow flowers in its corners, they were the same ones that were at his tomb. The living room was attached to the kitchen, it was overall very tidy, there were just some piles of dishes in the sink, but apart from that, it was all almost…
Lifeless, in a way,
Isagi shook his head and walked to the wall, observing the paintings.
“I made those,” he heard Yuu’s voice, he startled, turning suddenly, almost embarrassed,
“They look very good,” he said, as he had no idea what he should have said instead. “Are you an artist?”
She nodded. “I’ve been painting all my life, I’ve always enjoyed it, I…” she shook her head, she handed him the clothes. “They might be small for you, just try them, I hope they fit.”
Isagi nodded, he took them and asked her where the bathroom was.
When he came back to the living room, there were two cups on the table, and Yuu was staring at the kettle, waiting for the water to boil. She looked up and smiled at him, still, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. I was a mother, she had said, Isagi wondered if those clothes used to be her son’s. He didn’t ask, he simply sat at the table when she gestured to him to do so.
He smiled when she poured the water in his cup, he held it in his hands, as if he wanted to grasp all the warmth of that object, uncaring of the fact that it was just burning him.
“I’m a soccer player,” he said, as if he had to fill the silence, “I was in… this program, it helped me improve a lot, I…”
“I’ve seen some matches,” Yuu confessed, “you’re… Isagi Yoichi, if I’m not mistaken.”
He nodded.
“My son played soccer too,” she said, her voice was low, saddened, “he was amazing, I always made sure to go and see all his matches, even if I didn’t have the time to do so, he… he had always been proud of his hobby, I…” she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, “I miss him, more than I can express.”
Isagi nodded. “Were you… were you there to visit him? At the cemetery?”
She nodded. “I always go there, whenever I have time, I change the flowers and keep his rest in order, there… there was a new flower in his vase, a coral rose.”
Isagi stilled.
Yuu turned to him, she smiled. “I’m happy to know that Meguru had someone apart from me, thank you, Yoichi, for being there for him. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”
Isagi held her gaze for a few moments, he looked away and rubbed his eyes with a sleeve, hoping to dry the tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry too.”
There was silence for a few seconds, Isagi took a sip of his tea. It was still scalding, but he didn’t care.
“He talked to me about you,” he said at some point.
“Mh?” Yuu looked up from her mug.
“He said he missed you,” he continued. He shouldn’t have, not when what he wanted to say wouldn’t have been believable, not when he wasn’t in the right mind to come up with an excuse, with something true. “He said you helped him go by for a few more years, when you talked to him about the Monster. He… He said he was sorry that he couldn’t keep his promise of coming back, he said he wished he had more time, even if just to see you one last time.”
Yuu didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry,” Isagi continued, “I’m too tired to make sense, I don’t mean to be disrespectful—”
“He wrote it down,” she said. She stood up suddenly and walked away from the table, to one of the doors in the room. She turned as she opened the door, she gestured to him to follow her.
Isagi stood up and walked to her, he got inside what he thought was her studio, there were many blank and just started canvases, Yuu was standing before a picture on the wall, Isagi reached her and tried to read the writing on the paper.
I’ll return, believe me, I will, but I can’t stay here any longer.
“I never knew what to believe when it came to this letter,” Yuu was obviously trying very hard not to cry, “I found it weeks after his death, on the table, it— it had never been there before, but it’s his handwriting, and his way of not understanding his emotions. I… I have to admit, I’ve been hoping it would come true, him returning here, as impossible as it could be, but I… I guess there’s really no way of seeing him again, is there?”
Isagi didn’t know what to say, other than, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Yuu turned to him, her face lined with tears and a smile on her lips, “I— I’m just glad he wasn’t alone.”
“He wasn’t,” he said, “he had— he had me, and my friends from the program, every— everyone was with him, and I’m— I’m happy too, I’m so glad he found us, I’m glad I made his… staying a bit more bearable.”
“I’m glad of that too.”
Isagi left her house a while later, after silence had been filled with memories. He was holding a bag with his wet clothes inside, and his green umbrella covered him from the still pouring rain.
I’ll come here again, he said as he said goodbye to the woman, I’ll give you back his clothes, and I’ll say hi to him.
Yuu simply smiled, waving a hand in goodbye.
The ride home was a silent one, devoid of music of any kind. Isagi got home way later than hoped, and was welcomed by his mother telling him to heat up dinner, since it had grown cold.
I’m not hungry, he told her, I’ll eat it tomorrow.
Whose clothes are these? Iyo asked him.
They belong to someone important, he smiled, it’s a long story. Goodnight.
He took a shower and flung himself in his bed. He held his soccer ball close to his chest, taking deep breaths and trying his best to sleep.
When he finally lost consciousness, he dreamt of a boy with golden and brown hair, of how he looked at him, he dreamt of his words and his smiles and his laughter.
He would have carried the memories of those dreams to his grave.