Chapter Text
It had been a perfectly normal day.
Makoto had woken up like normal, gotten dressed like normal, ate breakfast and gave half of it away to Ren and Ran like normal, and had headed out of his house to make his way to Haru's house to pick him up like normal.
It had kept being normal, too, as Makoto had rung the doorbell and received no answer, like always, and had let himself into the house. He had gone straight to the bathroom because of course Haru would be there. Just like always.
Except the previously completely almost sickeningly normal day had ended when he stepped into the bathroom and the hamper was empty.
Makoto stares at it for a moment in long disbelief. There were always clothes in the hamper, because Haru was almost always in the bath when he came over. Not seeing any was like...like a fish swim in the air. It didn't happen.
“Haru...?” He calls experimentally, although he doesn't expect an answer since Haru likes to submerge himself a lot and doesn't always hear. Maybe Haru had just stripped elsewhere in the house. “I'm coming in.”
He opens the door for the bath and...it's empty.
It's empty. It doesn't even have water in it.
Makoto can't quite process this. It's never empty. Haru drains it and scrubs it completely clean twice a day and always refills it if he's staying home. It's only empty of water when Haru's out of the house. But here it is, dry and sparkling clean as if it hadn't been touched since Haru reverently cleans it for the night before bed.
Makoto has half a mind to go outside and check the house numbers to make sure he hasn't accidentally wandered into some stranger's identical house instead of Haru's. But no, there's his dolphin toy that Makoto had gotten him as a gag gift when they were thirteen. It's obviously Haru's house, so where's Haru?
The surprise is slowly eroded and replaced by worry. If the bath hasn't been touched since last night, then that means that Haru hasn't woken up yet, which is rare. He's a surprisingly early riser, possibly drilled into him by his late grandmother or by his motivation to have time for a good soak before school, but either way he wakes up earlier than Makoto does despite his admittedly-lazy temperament. If he's not up yet, maybe he's sick.
Makoto backs out of the bathroom and heads towards Haru's room, mentally going through a checklist of things to do if Haru is indeed sick. He'll need to call the school if Haru can't attend, possibly excuse himself too if it's bad enough that Haru will need care...maybe even try to move Haru to his own house since his mother doesn't work and she'd be glad to smother Haru with care for a day. He'd need to inform Gou and the others in case it affected practice, too. Maybe plan a doctor visit, also a grocery trip since mackerel was not a recommended food to nurse someone to health no matter what Haru thought.
Caught up in his planning, Makoto doesn't notice and so almost runs over the small shape that steps out into the hallway in front of him.
It's sudden and scares him, so he jumps backwards with a yelp, hitting the wall in his fright. It's not Haru, Haru's not that short and he lives alone, and Makoto's thoughts careen wildly for a moment – Haru's house is haunted, I've got to tell him is followed by I wonder how much an exorcism costs – before Makoto forces himself to look at what startled him so.
And he stares.
It's like looking at a picture. One from long ago, that you could swear you didn't remember someone looking like that but the picture tells otherwise. Memories, after all, were tricky things, blending your current and past impressions into one so they weren't as accurate as you thought, like how Makoto could remember Haru's face when he was younger fairly well, but not perfectly because he sees Haru as a teenager every day now and of course that affects how he remembers Haru when he was ten.
He is being reminded of all this because that is what he's seeing now, looking up at him with distrust and absolutely no recognition of who Makoto is.
He's seeing Haru, aged about ten as if he'd stepped out of Makoto's foggy memories and crystallized himself into the present, and it makes no sense because he'd last seen Haru only last night as the seventeen-year-old he should be. It makes no sense and Makoto can only stare in disbelief at this strange...Haru-memory, slack-jawed.
The strange, impossible, memory-turned-solid Haru stares back at Makoto, face pulling into a distrustful scowl.
“Who are you? Where are mom and dad? Where's Grandmama?”