Chapter Text
Before we start, I want to share a piece of fanart for this story that Cloudy_Lychee9 on Reddit was kind enough to draw me! You can also see the original post here. They also have a Tumblr account called magatamahairclips which you should definitely check out for lots of awesome TBHK content!
It’s amazing and gorgeous and fantastic and I need more synonyms for “incredible” because that’s what this artwork is! I’m so grateful, and you probably shouldn’t have done this because now I’ll want to ask you to draw fanart for all my projects 😅.
“After all those stalls, we’re still missing red!” Nene lamented mournfully.
“We got every other color, though,” Hanako noted.
“It doesn’t matter if we don’t have all of them!” Kou snapped, rifling through his own colorful collection, as if one might magically turn scarlet.
“I told you, this whole thing is rigged,” Yako grumbled, perched on one of the stalls and licking her paw. “I bet they all collaborate so that there’s a shortage of one color every year. That way, you keep buying more of their junk.”
“But still …” Nene frowned longingly. “If the boundary rumor really was true, then we could have gotten anything we wanted, just by writing it down.”
“Well, it is still just a rumor,” Hanako pointed out, now levitating upside down while crosslegged. “Even if you did get all the colors, there’s no guarantee anything would happen.”
Because nothing is ever that easy …
He, of all people, knew that.
“Anyway,” he continued in a much brighter tone. “Enough moping about, kids! We’re at a festival, and we haven’t even watched the fireworks yet!”
He shepherded both teens towards the large wishing tree, cheerfully ignoring their complaints.
Yeah, who cared about the Tanzaku anyway? It’s not like they could have changed anything—just a clever rumor likely invented by the owners of the stalls as a means to sell more of their merchandise, like Yako suggested.
Besides, the night had been fun anyway … because they were there.
Kou and Nene were walking ahead, still grumbling about their lack of success and trying to encourage each other like the rays of sunshine that they were. Even when disappointed, they would soon bounce back like nothing happened. Nothing ever kept them down for long.
Lagging behind them, Hanako wondered if they would have been happier attending that school festival together—without him.
Probably.
He was just dragging them down like he always did. Forcing them to comply with his own selfishness so he could enjoy their presence a little bit longer. He hated himself for it—but he just couldn’t let them go either.
“That might be my last choice, Kou-kun!” Nene was complaining morosely. “Now I’ll be stuck with fat ankles for the rest of my life!”
Hanako almost chuckled.
That girl was an anomaly. If she really believed that paper was magic, she could have wished for anything in the world under the sweet naivety that it might actually come true. And she had chosen to wish for thinner ankles, of all things. The girl simply had no sense.
But Hanako liked it that way.
If Nene’s conscious was so clear that she could afford to stress over something as stupid as the diameter of her ankles, then that was a good thing.
She didn’t know she was going to die soon.
And Hanako had no plans to either tell her or do anything about it. It was a horrible fate—but it was fate. Instead of struggling futilely, better to just let her enjoy the time she had left. That was the kindest thing to do, not that someone like him would have known anything about kindness.
“Wow, that hairpin is so pretty, don’t you think, Yako-san?” Nene’s attention immediately swiveled over to a stall where the glittering accessories were on display.
“Eh, I’ve seen better,” the second wonder observed, bouncing onto the girl’s shoulder for a closer look.
While they hung back, Kou was still thoughtfully turning the Tanzaku over in his hands. “It might still work, even without all the colors,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe if I got a marker and colored the white one red …”
“There’s no use stressing over it,” Hanako advised, now walking beside him. “The whole thing was a wild goose chase from the beginning.”
“You don’t know that!” Kou argued hotly. “It might have worked. It might’ve been my only chance to save—”
He stopped abruptly, snapping his mouth shut.
Hanako didn’t need to ask what the boy was about to say. His wish wasn’t something as trivial as physical appearance—he actually believed he could save Nene’s life.
“It’s going to take a lot more than paper to grant a wish like that,” he said quietly.
“Then I’ll try this and whatever else it takes!” Kou whispered furiously, casting a careful glance back and Nene and Yako to ensure they were out of earshot. “I don’t know about you, but there’s no way in hell that I’m letting Senpai die that easily!”
Hanako was about to restate his point—when he caught sight of the kid’s expression: fiery, determined and not allowing for even the tiniest shred of doubt. The naive, childish belief that he could actually change the world if he just tried hard enough.
It was stupid and pointless, and not worth encouraging any farther, as he would only be disappointed in the end …
“Besides,” Kou said in a more quiet, more unsure voice. He clenched the paper slips in his fists so tightly that they crumpled together. “I won’t lose anything just by writing it down, so it can’t hurt to try, right?”
Of course it can—
You’ll only have your hopes shattered—
Just give it up already—
“Yeah,” Hanako said in a cheerful hum that made his stomach churn. “It can’t hurt to try!”
With that, Kou marched forward, his determination renewed.
Hanako sighed, wondering if he had done the right thing. Like the kid said, it was harmless to try, with nothing but his own hope at stake. But maybe it was better to let him go on believing that he had a chance, kinder to let him think he could actually make a difference.
If only his optimism wasn’t so infectious, just being in close proximity was enough to make you believe that you actually had a chance. It was a dangerous mentality—like sweet poison. It was also addictive. If Hanako were smarter, he would have shut the kid down more quickly back then. Maybe he was cruel in his own way for believing in Kou, just the tiniest bit.
He had no idea. Until a few short months ago, other peoples’ feelings were the last thing on his mind.
“ … guys, wait for me!”
“Hm?” Hanako turned around to see Nene father back, Yako disappeared from her shoulder, and struggling to hold her place in the crowd. One octopus in a hurry pushed past her so quickly that she almost lost her footing.
“Hurry up,” he called back to her.
“I can’t!” Nene squeaked helplessly, trying to take wider steps and only succeeding in almost tripping over her yukata.
Clicking his tongue with a sigh, he hung back, pushing through the crowd easily so he could get to her, offering his hand. Really, she could be so hopeless sometimes …
Nene beamed gratefully and took his hand, her warm palm sliding effortlessly into his cold one with an ease that made his heart lurch. Yeah, she could afford to be happy over such a small gesture, because her mind was free of the plaguing thought that every moment might be her last.
That was how it should be.
She should always be able to smile like that.
Hanako let him mind wander around it, absorbed by thoughts of her. It was a problem, really. She took up too much space in his conscious, every thought he used to dwell on had been shoved away in order to make more room for her smile and her laugh and her joyous light that was going to be stolen from the world far too soon—
He really should have paid attention to his surroundings.
Something crashed up ahead. Some cow precession was parading through, stamping and kicking. For their part, everyone tried to scramble out of the way, fueled by the actual risk of getting trampled.
Nene yelped in alarm. She tripped over her restrictive yukata, wooden sandals clattering clumsily. Her hand slipped out of his as she fell back—right into the cow’s path.
“Yashiro!” Hanako lunged forward to grab her arm, pulling her close against his chest.
The cow barreled into them from behind, sending them both tumbling down. They splashed through the shallow water of the boundary, momentum carrying them. Hanako tried to shield the human from the worst of it, twisting to put himself between the girl and the cobblestones before they hit the ground.
Pain exploded in the back of his head and the world plunged into darkness.
Hanako woke a moment later, eyes fluttering open to a starry night sky. He shifted, noticing that his arms were empty—he must have let go of Nene after he passed out.
“Ow …” he sat up with a groan, rubbing his forehead. “This is what I meant when I said radishes shouldn’t play dress-up.”
He waited for Nene to call him a jerk.
Oddly enough, she didn’t.
Frowning, Hanako absently brushed the moisture from his jacket—only to find that the material was completely dry. Actually, there was no water around him at all.
Eyes snapping into focus, he whipped around in search of his friends, but neither Kou or Nene were anywhere to be seen. The smooth pavement beneath him didn’t have so much as a lingering puddle. Even the crowds that walked by, occasionally giving him a curious glance, looked completely human. No ghosts, youkai or even Mokke.
Am I … back in the real world? Hanako wondered.
But that couldn’t be right. He was a jibaku-rei, an earth-bound spirit, unable to set foot outside the school gate. Suddenly worried, he quickly pressed a finger to his throat, searching for a pulse—sighing in relief when he found none. Moreover, his two Haku Joudai were still hovering obediently above his head.
Okay, he was still dead.
Standing up, Hanako dusted himself off and looked around. Despite the fact that it should have been impossible, it seemed that he was back in the real world. Meaning, that this was the work of some supernatural debacle, or he had hit his head harder than he thought.
Pinned up to a nearby pole was a flyer.
TANABATA STAR FESTIVAL!
July 7, 2008.
Hanako stared at the piece of paper a few minutes longer than would be considered normal, as if the letters would suddenly rearrange themselves and provide the answer to what exactly was going on. Because, what it looked like right now, was that he had traveled back in time by seven years.
“… well, that’s a pickle,” Hanako commented to himself thoughtfully.
Anyone might have been in disbelief or panicking, but he was the ghost leader of a school full of supernaturals. By now, he had learned to take these things in stride. It wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him. Getting home shouldn’t be too complicated, provided that he hadn’t fallen into an alternate dimension.
That would be quite worrisome.
“Haku Joudai,” he murmured to his ghostly orbs. “Can you still sense our bond to Yashiro from here?”
The little will-o’-the-wisps gave affirmative twitches.
Hanako nodded, that meant he was still in the same world, just in a different time. It would save him some complications, at least. “Good. Follow it until you find her. Then, let me know so I can teleport back.”
The two little orbs vibrated in place, the tips of their tails flicking slightly—it was their version of a dutiful salute. With that, they took off into the night sky, trailing white smoke behind them, like tiny jets.
Hanako watched until they had disappeared from view, and then a few moments more.
So … what was he supposed to do now? It could anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours for Haku Joudai to locate Nene. And he was stuck in the middle of some near shore festival until then.
Shrugging, Hanako stuffed his hands into his pockets and wandered aimlessly past the stalls, not really paying attention to any of them. Someone might assume, after being stuck inside the school for so long, he would be enthusiastic to finally be out and free to explore until his cold heart’s content.
Not so much.
For him, being in a crowded place like this was just a depressing reminder that he no longer belonged in the world of the living. He was just a parasite that had overstayed his nonexistent welcome, an invisible specter who couldn’t interact with any—
Someone pushed past roughly, knocking into his shoulder and making him stumble to regain his balance.
“Oi!”
Hanako turned around to see a burly boy, a few years older than him, glaring sourly. “When you bump into someone, you’re supposed to apologize!”
“I think you’re the one who—” Hanako started to retort automatically, the words drying on his tongue.
Wait a minute. A boy (a living, breathing, human boy), had just spoken to him.
Surely, this couldn’t be …
The boy, however, seemed to have misinterpreted his shock as intimidation and marched over, his cronies watching with oily smirks. “Ya better give me something as payment for bumping into me like that,” he said, grabbing Hanako by the collar and lifting him a few inches above the ground.
Physical contact, with another human being. This was not supposed to be happening. “Y-you really can see me,” he muttered, dumbfounded.
The delinquent frowned. “Great, this one’s a basket case. Got anything valuable on you, shrimp?”
Hanako’s eyes narrowed dangerously. How this was even possible, he could think about later. For now, the position of a larger kid looming over him was familiar in way that brought back unpleasant memories.
Hardly anyone noticed Amane back then—most his classmates didn’t even know he existed. The only ones who did take notice were the ones who wanted something, the ones who enjoyed subjugating those weaker than themselves and finding the perfect target in him. Amane never stood him for himself. He was too quiet, too timid, too pathetically weak.
But he wasn’t Amane anymore.
“Get your filthy hands off me,” Hanako said plainly.
There was no obvious threat in his voice, there was no need. His golden eyes glinted with the light of insanity, lips twisting into a faint, murderous smile. Slowly, his cold, bony fingers slithered around the thick, warm wrist of the hand still gripping his collar.
The delinquent’s eyes widened in fear at the icy touch, at the expression that was far too terrifying for a kid so young.
In one fluid movement, Hanako spun behind the larger boy, pinning his wrist behind his back. “Now, I think this would be a good time for some valuable life lessons,” he sang liltingly. “It’s not very nice to pick on people who are smaller than you. Do try to remember this in the future.”
He released the boy who scrambled to put distance between them, cronies following close behind.
Bullies hadn’t changed much in fifty years, it seemed.
Sighing, Hanako looked down at his hands. They were still as pale and translucent as they always were. And yet, people could see him, could touch him, now. Whatever weird magic had sent him here must have done this.
But this was a little more troubling that simply being sent to the past—he was an apparition, and apparitions weren’t supposed to be seen.
That defeated the entire purpose.
He could only hope that this spell would wear off as soon as he got back—preferably sooner.
Hanako had pulled back into his mind again, trying to think of what kind of youkai possessed the kind of power to do such a thing (because he was definitely going hunting for a little revenge the moment he got back).
Again, he really should have paid attention to his surroundings. Especially considering what had just happened not yet ten minutes ago.
Because he bumped into someone else.
Too caught up in his thoughts to notice the crowd around him (spatial awareness was a reflex he had lost years ago), he didn’t see the person running in his direction until they had literally collided with him. This impact was head-on, and they both fell with soft grunts.
“Dammit,” he cursed, pushing up his hat, which had fallen over his face. “I’m really not used to having to look where I’m going.”
“Oh no, are you okay?” a high-pitched voice asked. It sounded like a little girl.
“Yeah, I’m—” Hanako looked up at the person who had spoken.
Cream-colored hair curled just past her shoulders, the teal edges brushing against her yukata. Goldfish patterns adorned the fabric, swimming and twisting in different directions. A cute, chubby face with round, rosy cheeks were not nearly as incriminating as her eyes: huge and expressive, like twin garnets.
Eyes he knew too well.
“Yashiro …?” he breathed.