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The newscaster rattled on about a heat wave on the old television nestled in a slanted, rickety shelf beneath the Tomoshibi standard. Arajin only listened to the beginnings of the broadcast, wondering how the suit-wearing man wasn’t baking in the inferno that was summer in his hometown. Somewhere outside, shouting voices quieted into hushed whispers again and the scrape of his pick filled the droning silence. They didn’t know he was home yet, and a sense of smugness crept in his chest at the thought of successfully avoiding them.It wouldn’t work for long, they wanted to talk to him after he finished cooling off.So, he was running out of time as it was.Once the last bit of sediment was brushed away, he blew across the oblong stone, watching white glittering powder color the air in a cloud of dust. Arajin stared at it in the palm of his hand, then clenched his fist around it, pressing his knuckles to his forehead as he prayed. Buddha never responded to his pleas, perhaps due to the nature of suffering and self-encouragement, or the lack of belief that he could ever become someone better than what he was. Nevertheless, just as the beat-up fan relentlessly attempted to cool down the interior room, Arajin swore to keep trying. If the Buddha wouldn’t answer pleas for himself, then perhaps it would for someone else.The broadcast switched to a program about the summer festival, and his stomach sunk at the sound of a door rattling shut on its hinges. Dull, aching pains shot up his left side when he stood, webbing over his ribs and potentially going further to bruise some of his organs. Yet, he gripped the stone tight in his hand and hoisted himself over the low garden wall separating the dojo from the hazy streets.
My body hurts.
After a way of walking, the nagging thought buzzed incessantly like a mosquito hovering just at the edge of his hearing. He breathed in the thick, soupy air as he swayed from one foot to the other, wondering if he should’ve taken one of the large paper fans stashed in his mom's restaurant. There wouldn’t be many customers today, aside from the ones attempting to escape the heat, and even then they would be turned away. A family matter, his mom would say, cheerful as always.She wouldn’t admit the loss of business was hurting her already meager earnings. Or that, with a heavy heart, she may have to find other work until ends could meet. That’s for adults to worry about, Arachiin, she would tease with a poke to his nose before shooing him out of the room to rest. She never sighed or frowned in front of him. Always painfully happy, like a clown putting on a show, until he peeked through the crack and saw her with head in hand while talking to his father. The tears falling from her eyes, like the weeping wounds on his body, would need to be taken care of sooner or later. He understood that more than anyone. His sneakers scuffed against the hot asphalt, sweat dripping down his chin as he coughed up pinkish spittle when the harsh grating in his throat swelled to the point of smothering. He scrunched his nose at the taste in his mouth, foul enough to make him regret eating the tikka masala earlier. Metal’s thick, bitter twinge mingled with the warm spices, and the cumin seed lodged in the back of his tooth annoyed him. Thankfully, the neighborhood was rather quiet for the height of summer, nothing aside from the shrill cry of cicadas following him as he irritably dragged his body from one block to the next. Eventually, keeping his eyes open was too much of a chore, and as his head lurched forward, his body almost followed suit but the cool stone tucked in the crevices of his palm reminded him of what he set out to do and he immediately righted himself to keep from hitting the ground.
Just a little longer...
It was muscle memory, more so than an actual sense of direction that kept him moving. He wasn't sure where he was, truth be told until the scent of the ocean crossed his nose. His stomach tightened as an image conjured across his mind, blurry and rippling. Water, green as grass, but somehow tinged with blue and red, shimmering as the sun barely kissed the horizon. With the cloying, curdling scent of sulfur beneath, he could almost imagine that he was in the mountains staring down at the sprawling ocean. But with a heavy blink, he opened his eyes to the heat haze of a wavering street and lifted his head to find the shaded awning of a bathhouse's gate. Stepping beneath it gave him some reprieve from the summer sun, but the weighted stone in his stomach only increased tenfold as he heard muttered cursing and the fiddling scrape of iron. Looking up, his eyes softened at the sight of a dark brown-haired boy tussling with the lock to the bathhouse's door. He let out a few more curses when his key fell short of entering the lock, and Arajin felt his bruised lip smart as his mouth lifted in a slight smile."Mitsu-nii," he called out, wincing at the rough scrape of his throat.The boy's fumbling stopped for a split second when the key slipped from his hand, clattering on the step. He turned around, half-bent down to pick it up, with his head lifted to fix an ocean-blue gaze on Arajin between soft brown locks. "Eh?” Recognition filled his eyes, sparkling blue crescenting as he grinned, “ Oh , Ara-chan, is that you? Welcome back!""Mn," Arajin lumbered forward with his best impression of a nonchalant gait but in his exhaustion, forgot to tell the older boy how much he hated when he called him that. However, it was hard to convince Asamine Mitsukuni of anything once his mind was set on it, and after trying for so long, Arajin's resolve was beginning to wane. "Is oba-chan and oji-chan in?"Mitsukuni scooped up the key, managing to fit in the lock with a triumphant grunt. "Nah, they're at the hospital. Mata got into it with some punks," Arajin clutched the stone tighter, wondering if he could be as good at pretending as Mitsukuni was. When he turned somewhat to face him, the redness at the corner of his eyes spoke of shed tears, and the purpling bruises at the back of his hands almost matched the hands Arajin hid behind his back. As if aware that he was being watched, Mitsukuni turned around once the door was properly locked, giving Arajin a sympathetic look - his brows puckled and eyes curving, making his features softer, welcoming . Arajin glanced away, unable to bear the weight of that gaze. Why was he worried about him when it was his brother in danger? "Aren't you coming with?" Mitsukuni asked.Arajin hunched his shoulders, bowing his head until his chin brushed against his stretched-out collar. His blue t-shirt felt too warm against his body, clinging to him like a second skin, or a flimsy piece of armor that he wished he could hide in. Thankfully, it wasn’t see-through, as he was certain the skin beneath would be an ugly mess of sores that would become bruises and bruises that were only beginning to heal.Mitsukuni didn't wait long for an answer, his footsteps lightly tapping against the stone walkway as he neared Arajin. The encroaching presence reminded him of what the world smelled like before it rained - earthy, faintly scented with something , anticipation probably. He was always restless when it rained, and just as Mitsukuni neared, dropping the heavy weight of his hand on one shuddering shoulder - Arajin felt restless within his skin."C'mon, seeing you would brighten him up," the smile in Mitsukuni's voice was too painful for Arajin to bear and he desperately wanted to cover his ears. "And if he’s up to it, we can get payback. I know how you are about Mata-""Asamine-senpai."Mitsukuni's fingers twitched where they crooked along the curve of his shoulder, almost oppressive in their weight. All too slowly, he lifted his hand, turning sideways. The hand didn't appear in Arajin's periphery, and the lack of its presence reminded him all too well of a trip to the beach with his family. How his mother warned him of the telling side of a tsunami, how the water receded until it was almost out of sight, before coming to crash down in a mighty wave. Mitsukuni's presence felt all too much like that, the calm before the storm. ".. -senpai? What's up with you, Ara-chan? Did nii-chan upset you o-" He grunted softly when Arajin's fist connected with his chest, the stone slipping into the cradle of his opening fingers.".. Give this to Matakara."With trembling fingers, he moved to release the stone, hoping Mitsukuni's swiftness was able to catch it before it fell. Though before his hand could open completely, his wrist was seized in a tight grip, keeping his fingers closed. "Who did this to you?" Mitsukuni demanded in a deep whisper, the boyish grin on his usually comely face replaced with a deadened stare. Arajin’s fingers trembled as he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to feel the metallic twang coat his tongue." Arajin .""It was nothing," Arajin shouted, yanking his arm out of Mitsukuni's grasp, his wrist throbbing from the friction of their heated skin. He held his arm by his side, glancing down at the blooming red around his split knuckles. It looked worse than he thought, crusting blood formed petals around the torn flesh, leaking red tinging the skin in different shades, and with the bluish hue beneath, it looked purple. The oppressive heat slipped through his ears, trickling to his throat where it condensed into a cloud of steam. He felt as if he could breathe fire as he stepped back, and said, “I’m not lying.” Yet, the look in Mitsukuni’s eyes cut through him."Give it to him or don't, I don’t care!" he shouted, throwing the stone at Mitsukuni’s face to cover those eyes. A jolt of tension swelled in his legs, sneakers screeching a cry he couldn’t push past the strangled breath in his throat as he forced his body to move .And before he knew it, he was running. The renewed strength in his legs which once felt like they would collapse under him, propelled him toward the blazing streets and further away from Mitsukuni's desperate cries of his name. He ran until his breaths were dried hacking puffs, ignoring the whispers as he passed by a storefront, two women witnessing his mad dash from the safety of the awning as they talked. "Did you hear? Four boys were sent to the hospital today," one lady said. "One of them was the Asamine youngest son, but he wasn't the worst off. The other boys were..."
Don't listen. Go, faster. Before everyone knows, before Matakara...
Sweat dripped from his misting eyes, but he refused to stop running.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A poorly stifled yawn stroked against the inside of Arajin's throat when he awoke to the chattering of a room full of preschoolers chattering like magpies. He peeked over his makeshift arm pillow, blearily staring up at the wide windows where middling orange-gold shafts of afternoon sunlight streamed through, stippling over his desk in shiny dancing circles. His cheek slid off the rubbery, warm skin of his forearm and onto the cool hard desk, still faintly smelling of pasanda - creamy and nutty with a hint of fat from the meat their teacher cut up into thin strips. Drool pooled at the bottom of his mouth at the thought of fried meat searing on an open skillet before being dipped into a thick, almond coconut sauce.A thin trail threatened to roll down his lips, which he quickly sucked back, bolting upright. Across from him, a young girl with brown pigtails stared at him, brows knitted in a frown before she swung her gaze to the right and called out to someone else - quickly abandoning her seat in front of Arajin. He watched her go, joining a pair of girls at the front of the classroom who talked with bent heads, reminding him of the old hens he once saw during a class trip. Yet, unlike the hens who didn't take much interest in the preschoolers despite their chasing and petting, the girls looked back to Arajin with disgust.He scrunched his nose, pressing a crooked fingertip beneath his left eye and pulling down with his tongue hanging out his mouth. The girls shrieked at different octaves, quickly turning around while shoving one another further into the gaggle of children. Once their stares were gone, Arajin lowered his hand with a sigh.So much for making friends with a girl my age, kaa-chan, he thought bitterly, turning to face his desk. Girls his age were nothing like the ladies who came to his family's restaurant, eagerly chatting with his mother and aunt about everything from their kids to the changes in prices at the local bazaar. When they saw him, they complimented his mom on how "pretty" and "well-behaved" he was, slipping a few notes in his hand along with a sweet or two for putting up with their petting and cheek-pinching. For them, he didn't have to do anything but be there and endure the coddling. But girls his age didn't seem to like boys at all, and most of the boys weren't too fond of the girls either.He tucked his chin against his fist, hearing his father's deep timbre in the back of his mind.
You'll find your people, Arajin. Even if it's only one person, it's better than being alone. Trust me.
His eyes strayed to the windows, tracking the ascent of an airplane leaving a misty white band across the sky as it arced over and above, flying to who knew where. He wondered if his dad would take him the next time he went abroad. As he leaned back in his seat to keep an eye on the plane, the wandering thought of how high it could go kept his eyes trained on the sky. If he could reach outer space, perhaps he could find a friend somewhere among the stars. The heels of his inside-shoes scuffed against the floor when the chair's front legs lifted, putting him at an angle with the plane. It kept going, up, up, up, and he tried to lean with it until the window started to get higher.His stomach lurched when the window got further away, and the airplane soared out of his sight. It wasn't getting higher, he was getting lower.Arajin rolled out of his seat just as the chair hit the floor with a loud bang. His hand smacked against the floor to keep him upright, bolts of pain surging up to his shoulder from the pooling ache in his wrist. One of his knees smarted when it knocked on another desk leg but it wasn't too bad in comparison to hitting his head, he supposed."Arajin-kun! Are you alright?!"He lifted his head, peeking through his bangs at the nearly frantic approach of his teacher. When she knelt in front of him, he caught a whiff of turmeric and rice, and his stomach rumbled again. The pain in his knee and arm were rapidly fading, but the ache in his stomach continued to protest. Her hands hovered over him for a second as if she were unsure where to touch, drifting back when he pulled himself into a sitting position with his knees tucked petulantly to his chest. The injured one was beginning to redden from the shin upward, but he'd been in worse scrapes before. It was nothing to be worried about, but as he looked up at his teacher's quivering eyes, his throat felt strangely warm.His mom would give him that look whenever he came home with cuts and bruises."… I'm fine, sensei," Arajin said, somewhat surprised by how clear his voice sounded amidst all the chatter. Until he realized, no one was talking at all. He peeked from the corner of his eye at his watching classmates. Some whispered in each other's ears, staring fixedly, while others wore tight grins to hide their laughter. Arajin's eyebrows furrowed as his mouth set in a grim line."You have to be careful, Arajin-kun," his teacher fussed, then turned around, one heavy brown slanted in disapproval at the crowd. "No leaning back in your chair, that goes for everyone, understand?"Despite her eyes on them, in Arajin's view, an understanding passed through the crowd. Boys puffed up their chests while girls murmured to each other, shying and nudging like birds. He thought dully to his dad's trip to America, and how he mentioned meeting a bird that could copy someone's voice. A mockingbird, he called it. Arajin hated the name after his mom explained it to him, because who would ever want to be mocked, especially by a bird of all things?But like a flock of mockingbirds, they called back, "Yes, sensei!", and his knuckles itched.Eventually, the teacher managed to corral the children back into their seats, taking her place at the front of the small classroom. Arajin didn't bother looking at his seat mate, anger simmering underneath his skin, worsening the itch in his hands. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the crook of his elbow, shoving his nose against his forearm like a muzzle. If someone so much as asked for one of his gyoza at lunch, he imagined he would've bit them. Which would only get him in trouble, although it was because they started with him first.Adults could never see the things that mattered.So, it was easier to focus on his teacher's bright, clear voice and imagine her as the pale beam of air coloring the sky in the wake of a plane, taking him somewhere else far away from these chattering magpies and mockingbirds. "Alright everyone, eyes up here please," their teacher requested, pulling an easel in front of the chalkboard decorated with colorfully budded flowers. Set upon the easel's frame was a white canvas turned so its hollow back faced the class sent the room into aflutter with curiosity of what was happening. Arajin winced at the sudden noise, shoving the heel of his right hand against his ear.“Now, for our graduating class' performance, you all decided to pick what show we wanted to put on for your mommies and daddies,” she paused for suspense, tenting her fingers with a delighted smile while the kids started murmuring their choices aloud. One boy proclaimed he wanted to do a Sentai Ranger episode he watched with his dad, while another girl muttered about being a magical girl or a witch to convince her mom they were real. Arajin tried to remember what he wrote down, though he couldn’t remember it exactly, aside from a moment when his teacher pulled him aside to ask where he heard the term “Brimple” from. His mom usually watched the show during the afternoons, and he supposed the monk Kenchin-sama was better than nothing. If anything, she would enjoy watching them act out one of her tear-jerking episodes.“Then,” the teacher’s anticipating voice put a halt to the whispering and drew Arajin’s attention to the lifting canvas. She twirled it around with a dramatic flourish, setting it down so quickly that the easel rocked at the force. “Here we are!”While his classmates ooh'ed and aww'd, Arajin stared at the horizontally rising letters until he realized his head was turned at an angle which made them hard to read. Turning his head up, the bright red and blue kanji made a little more sense, plump and bubbly enough that they were fighting for space on the canvas. On either side beneath, his teacher wrote the same words in Arabic and to his relief, Mandarin. His eyes trailed further down, ears deafened to the clamor around him. A pair of blobs, one colored red, while the other blue, sit smushed together in the middle of the canvas. Their cheeks - if it could be described as that as it took him a beat longer to recognize they bore faces - were a muddy shade of purple. While the blue one scowled, the red one smiled with sharp jagged teeth. A few of his classmates quailed about how scary it looked, but he didn’t think so. It wasn’t the blob’s fault that its teeth were the size of a shark’s. Besides, he thought the red one looked cool.“We’ll be performing the story of the Red Oni and the Blue Oni,” their teacher announced, clapping her hands together to gather the class’ attention. “So first, we have to see who is playing the Red Oni,” she gestured with one finger, then wagged another on her other hand, “and who is the Blue Oni,” after joining her hands together, she looked around the room expectantly, “anyone?”The entire time he’d been a part of this class, it was hard to get everyone to remain silent for long. But now, it was as if everyone was of one mind, stealing glances or nudging one another in a secret code. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his arms. I don’t like this. “Sensei!” One of the boys called, “Asamine should be the Red Oni!”“Yeah,” another boy chimed in, “His hair is kinda red.”“And he cries a lot,” another snickered, sending the class into a fit of laughter, some meaner than others.Arajin sighed, wondering if his teacher would call his mom if he told her that his stomach was hurting. Anywhere would be better than here. He buried his face in his arm, sliding a hand in his hair to tousle it lightly like his mom would when she teased him. If he had half of her energy, and joy, school wouldn't be this difficult.I would have a friend by now, he thought bitterly, both hating that he wanted to be friends with these copycats and sad that the choice wasn't up to him. The world around him muffled further, becoming a blank noise, circling around but not reaching where he was in the little bubble he'd made.
If I fall asleep again, I'll wake up before it's time to go home.
Slowly, his eyes began to close as he surrendered to waiting.“I-I do not!” A quavering, high-pitched voice pierced through Arajin's bubble, practically shattering it around his head. Noise funneled in, but it all felt clearer than before. He jerked his head up, unseeing the face of his startled seat mate, as he searched for the source of the voice. His gaze flitted over a few of his classmates, chastened or annoyed, until he found a boy sitting apart from the others. The seat beside him was occupied by a boy attempting to make himself smaller, shy away from the scene, but Arajin's attention passed over him entirely. No, he was concerned with him.A mop of thick reddish-brown hair fell around soft, rounded ears, its ends curling like the tip of a duck's feathers. In spite of how loud his voice sounded, he was pretty small. Even smaller than Arajin himself, and that was saying something. What more, he trembled like a leaf, with his hands pressed firmly to his sides as he stood up and faced down the entire class. When he turned toward Arajin's side of the room, their eyes met, and the boy's widened a little like he didn't think someone would be looking back at him. Seeing his face full-on, Arajin could understand why the ladies at his mom's restaurant liked pinching his cheeks, and knew if this kid came around - he'd be the one they'd like the most.His rosy cheeks looked as round and shiny as apples. The tip of a damp, blushing red nose twitched once or twice when the boy sniffled, drawing Arajin back to the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.
When did you get here?
How hadn't he noticed someone like this? Most of their classmates bore brown or black hair, like him, but this boy was colorful. Was that why they were picking on him? Because he was different?His blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, thick brows shading them when he started to look away, shoulders hunching in like clouds rolling over the sky blocking the blue from his view.
What would it look like if you were smiling? Wait, don't—
He raised his head higher to keep the boy’s gaze, opening his mouth to say something when the teacher curtly interjected, “That’s enough. There’s nothing wrong with crying, and we don’t tease our friends, Taka-kun.”Arajin wasn't entirely sure who Taka was before, but his reason to care doubled when the boy sank down in his seat. His sweeping bangs covering his eyes from view. The rage itching beneath Arajin's skin joined the churning in his stomach as he turned his head, following the sound of the voice meekly grumbling, "Sorry, sensei…"“Don’t apologize to me,” their teacher shook her head, gesturing openhandedly to the boy attempting to make himself smaller, “apologize to Matakara-kun.”Matakara, Arajin thought, etching the name into his thoughts of an endless blue sky. The pale beams of air taking the form of a name, rather than streaking aimlessly to nowhere, hovering right above where he could always see them.A wrinkle formed on the bridge of Arajin's nose as he took in the mousy boy sitting a few places in front of Matakara. Bowed heads and downcast eyes were supposed to mean someone was sorry, but from the way he quickly mumbled “Sorry..”, Arajin felt he didn't mean it at all.“I-It’s okay,” the sky— Matakara — said, “I’ll be the Red Oni, sensei.”Arajin’s head whipped up, his heart pounding.
What? Why would you—?
“Are you sure, Matakara-kun?” Their teacher asked, voicing the concerns lodged deep in Arajin’s stuffy chest.“Mn!” Matakara nodded, his curls bouncing. “I don’t mind, a-and everyone else thinks so I’d be good at it too, right?”As he looked around the room, the other kids avoided his gaze, but that didn’t seem to deter him at all. Arajin bit down on the inside of his cheek when Matakara nearly looked at him, feeling the stuffiness in his chest continues to swell.
Don't do it. They're not—
“T-Then,” the teacher earnestly continued, “who wants to be the Blue Oni?”Again, no one readily answered, but the quiet in the room held a tension. “Anyone?” Their teacher echoed.Somewhere nearby, Arajin heard someone whispering but he couldn't tear his trembling gaze from Matakara. The newcomer asked, “Sensei, what about Tomoshibi-kun?”“Asamine and Tomoshibi,” Taka cackled as if he heard the greatest joke ever, “that’s a good one, Kokichi!”“Yeah,” Kokichi ducked his head when he snuck a glance Arajin’s way, likely noticing the deadened glare he gave. The boy shying further into his seat, brushing elbows with his confused and grumpy seatmate who lamented on the loss of space. “Taka-kun, Kokichi-kun…”So that’s how it’s gonna be, Arajin thought, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed back from his desk. There was no sense in trying to be friends with any of them."Eh? Arajin-kun?" His teacher said, the question in her voice with a hint of worry almost loosened the knot in his stomach. But he wasn't going to let it go this time.He stood, sweeping a frigid look across the room, but the moment his eyes met Matakara's, something in him halted. The stuffiness in his chest was choking him. Bits of green clung to the center of blue, and stole his breath away.Arajin sucked his teeth, and shouted, “Don’t wanna!”, before beating a quick exit to the back classroom door. His teacher yelled his name, as he hauled the door open and sprinted out into the hall. The approaching summer heat prickled at his skin, and his knee still smarted a little from when he fell, but running never seemed easier. It would take too long to get on a plane, or convince his dad to not leave him behind.I'll go somewhere else on my own feet, he thought, pushing open the door leading to the outside. A blast of warm air hurtled past him as he threw himself forward, leaping off the genkan without taking off his inside shoes. Solid, packed dirt met his feet and he stumbled once before craning his neck to find a hiding spot. There was the playground, but his teacher would know to find him there. Some kids who were too scared to be without their parents would hide in the slides until the teachers could coax them out.
Gotta go somewhere higher…
A thought crossed his mind, and he quickly made a beeline for the few trees in the playground area. The few times he managed to get a foothold and started climbing were thwarted by his ashen-faced teacher, her arms outstretched and voice shriller as she begged him to come down. Later, he overheard that she had a fear of heights and was worried he would fall. It was perfect.With great pains, Arajin found his foothold and began to climb up. The threat of getting a splinter crossed his mind but the higher he got off the ground, the more it felt like he was ascending into the sky like the airplane. Farther, and farther away from the world holding him down.The first branch within his reach seemed a little too thin, so he passed it by. Leaves gathered above him, brushing against the top of his head and tickling his ears and shoulders as if applauding him for his steady climb. At nearly the very top, Arajin found a branch big enough that he could lie across it like a bed. Deciding that one would be where he would stay, he stepped onto the connecting wood then let his hands grasp around it, turning around until his back was pressed to the tree bark. The leaves were so thick that he could hardly see the ground, and the tree's heady musky scent made his head a little foggy.
Smells like dad…
His eyelids felt heavy as he curled in on himself, legs pressed to his chest and arms hooked around his knees. He would stay up here until his parents came, and even if they scolded him, it didn't matter.So long as they took him home, it didn't matter at all.“Ah, there you are!"Arajin's eyes shot open. It took a moment for him to remember where he was, and he was grateful that the jolt wasn't so bad that he almost tumbled out of the tree. Lamenting his hiding place was found, he shut his eyes tighter and tried to will away the voice."Tomoshibi-kun, how’d you get up there?”Dully, and without much thought, he yawned, “Climbing." “Eh? It’s so high… you must be a cat.”“What? Don’t be stupid.”That voice.Recognition sank in once he could recall the honeyed sound without the impending shower of tears - he jerked upright and craned his head to look past the veil of leaves to the little boy standing in the midst of their ring, smiling up at him.
How did you find me?
Matakara, with his floppy hair and bright blue eyes, stared up at him in awe. His eyes were sparkling, reflecting Arajin's startled and crossed visage.
Dummy…
Just the sight of him made him angry, how could he let them win like that? Idiot, stupid Matakara.“Oi, can’t you see they’re looking down on you?” Arajin griped, harsher than he meant to but the frustration in his chest was exploding, and he couldn’t quell the flow of words. “The Red Oni gets beans thrown at him whenever he tries to make a friend because they’re scared of how he looks. They’re not trying to be nice or be your friend by saying you’re the Red Oni. They’re making fun of you, idiot.”Only after the tide stemmed did he realize how mean that sounded.Then, the greater fear loomed over him like a coming storm.
Is he going to cry?
Guilt shot aching pains through his stomach which he grasped in a twisting hand, considering how he could apologize, then wondering why he should. He’d meant every word. But his mom often said there were ways for things to be said - tact as she put it. Something he’d learn over time, and through making friends.
As if that’s going to happen here…
“I know,” Matakara said, a little slower and unsure as if he was slowly waking up from a daze, “but… the Red Oni and Blue Oni are friends.”Arajin’s eyebrows twitched. “So what?”“To make the Red Oni happy, the Blue Oni pretended to be bad. That’s why, the Blue Oni is the Red Oni’s best friend,” Matakara tipped his head, his hair springing up and falling, while his soft-looking face melted as the corners of his mouth lifted hesitantly - shyly smiling. “A-And.. I want you to be the Blue Oni, Tomoshibi-kun…”Arajin scrunched his nose, spatting, “Hah?”“You were mad for me, right?” Matakara called back, his timid tipped lips parting to reveal the brightest smile Arajin had ever seen. “Thank you, Tomoshibi-kun!”Whether it was confusion at why he was being thanked, or why this confusing kid was smiling at him, the feeling in his chest and stomach started to settle. It was still there, and his stomach hurt a little, but it wasn’t as bad as before.
He's smiling… Matakara is smiling… they're blue, his eyes.. like the sky…
He shifted to one side, legs dangling over the tree branch. The itch beneath his skin had all but gone away but it felt as if there were a tether tied around his ankle. It was begging him to come down, possibly connected to the boy watching him with rapt attention, not whittling away at him for some flaw - but seeing him. The sky above was too far away, but the one in front of him was in reach.Matakara's mouth moved, likely with some sort of admonishment. Be careful, hold on, wait until I get a teacher…No, he wanted to go now.With with his hands hooked on it, he let himself drop down, suspended with only his arms as a support. From below, Matakara gasped and waved his hands around. Was he going to try to catch him? Arajin’s nose wrinkled at the thought and he almost wanted to sneeze or laugh.He swung back and forth, making sure he had enough momentum before letting go. Another branch a little further down caught his hand, and down, and down he went, until his feet touched the grass. “What’s your name?” He asked, looking over at Matakara's face, paralyzed with shock and fear. Was he afraid for him?
This kid is funny…
“A-Asamine Matakara…” Matakara answered, and the sky in his eyes was so clear that Arajin thought spring had already come. A little floaty feeling brushed inside Arajin’s chest, reminding him of a feather or a warm finger caressing his cheek.He brushed it aside, stamping forward until they stood toe to toe, his hands resting on his hips. “Listen up, Mata -" he caught the hitched breath, and tried to soften the blow. Tact, the voice that sounded like his mom's said in his head, don't make him think it's his fault. "It’s got nothing to do with you, I just don’t wanna be part of some crummy pl—.”Matakara surged forward, his hands clenched into fists in front of his chest. Determination burned in his eyes, stifling the tirade spilling from Arajin's mouth. “But it’ll be fun, Ara-chan!” He shouted, confidence radiating from him.Dappled sunlight streamed between the leaves, stippling on the tips of his hair like a crown of fireflies. In fact, Matakara seemed to be glowing himself.“A-” Arajin stammered, indignation replaced with curious mortification, “Ara-chan?”“Mn,” Matakara nodded, pointing at himself, “Mata,” then he gestured with the same finger crooked toward Arajin. “Ara-chan!”Arajin leant back a little, searching Matakara's eyes for what might have gone wrong in his little speech. When did he get the thought to call him 'Ara-chan'? Why was he bright like the sun? Before he could respond, their teacher’s voice called in the distance, “Arajin-kun! Matakara-kun! Where are you?”“Ah, it’s Sensei!” Matakara took a few shuffling steps to the side, frantically looking around before he snatched up Arajin's hand and tugged him away from the tree. “Let’s go, Ara-chan!”Arajin tripped over his feet with the first step, but quickly gained his stride, fingers twitching against the palm wrapped tightly his knuckles. "Oi," he protested, weakly at first, then a bit louder to be heard over Mata's tinkling laughter. "Who told you to call me Ara-chan?! Let go, y—! Oi!" "Oi, what the fuck?!"Arajin gradually opened his eyes, wincing at the swelling pain in the side of his neck. His hand cupped beneath his jaw, rubbing circles to loosen the tense muscles until the idea of lifting his head was somewhat bearable. Rough, scratchy calluses nestled at the base of his fingers rubbed against his skin like sandpaper - a far cry from the soft, tiny hands in his dream. Vestiges of sleep clung to the edge of his vision, turning everything around him into hazy and undulating blobs that took too much energy to discern. His body swayed lightly with the bumping and rolling wheels beneath his feet, flashes of light temporarily blinding him as he peeked up through his lashes.
A dream within a dream…?
Across from him, a salaryman sat slumped over with his arms wrapped tight around his briefcase like a shield. Beside him, a middle-schooler was scrolling on his cellphones with headphones jammed in his ears, the blue light reflecting on his glasses. Then to the far left, a lady was flipping pages in a book, though she didn't seem to be reading it at all - just wanting to distract herself. Behind them, the world idly passed by through the glazing.Giant silhouettes of snaking, sloped buildings raced toward the sky aside their onion-roofed counterparts, hardly breaking over the horizon. Beyond them, the sun continued to set, sending streaks of orange-gold across the giant's glassy faces and the smattering of red and blue tiles, creating a scintillating array of blinding mosaic lights. Arajin raised his hand to shield his eyes, fingers twitching as he turned his palm around to face him.The sensation of someone gripping his hand was all but gone, yet he couldn't imagine the little boy who held him tight like a kite threatening to fly away would be able to do so now. Nor, did he exist anymore, most likely.Arajin sighed, his limp hand flopping against his thigh as he leaned his head back and stared up at the swinging tsurikawa until his eyelids started to slide shut."You tryna cheat me, you fucker?"
Doesn't a guy have the right to brood in peace?
His chest swelled with air as he breathed in deeply, trying to count backwards from ten. The stuffy feeling circling around his ribs, hoping up and down on his quick-beating heart and slipping up to his throat had grown easier to deal with. But, at times, he felt like he could breathe fire if approached the wrong way. Warm air funneled past his lips with a deep exhale, his shoulders slackening, and the familiar coolness of calm settling the throb in his head.
Everything's going to be fine.
"Hah? You lost, bastard. Guess there's no luck in those bones of yours, huh?"His eyes snapped open, slipping to the right.
That's what I get for trying to have a moment on a train, I guess…
For a moment, Arajin wasn't sure if the caustic, scathing profanities were in his head or happening somewhere around him. Everyone seemed to be carrying on as usual without paying heed to their surroundings. A testament to the evening commute, simply anting to get home without any fuss. However, the clicking of grinding teeth and rattling cups was too real for him to write off as a side-effect of drowsiness. He sat up a little, peering further down the railcar where a trio of boys around his age were playing some sort of dice game. They wore matching white uniforms, trimmed in silver, with an x cross-stitched on either side of the collar. Though their builds were different, they bore the same small gold hoop earrings and a silver band around their right forefinger and left thumb.He tipped his head, eyeing the violet belt looped beneath their jackets.A gang's colors?
Well, that's one thing that hadn't changed.
Two of the boys occupied seats closest to the doors, while another crouched in front of them, seeming to keep his balance by grabbing onto the duo's pants legs, though they shook him off when the train's swaying steadied. Trash littered the floor around them, an empty soda can, colorful wrapper with cartoonish characters' creased smiles turning to frowns, and crushed chips scattered under their heels. The three were laughing rather loudly, and a quick sweep of the people around them showed mild discomfort despite their best efforts to ignore them.All but an old woman clutching a rather heavy-looking bag of groceries to her chest as she strained to hold onto one of the tsurikawa. As the train lurched to one side, the crouching boy nearly toppled into her. His hand shot out to catch himself, landing mere inches from her foot. She squeaked softly, shying away. A bad move, considering the boys' attention focusing on her before they turned to one another with mean grins, chortling and mimicking the squeak with tiny, exaggerated whimpers.Arajin bit down on the inside of his cheek. His breaths harshened, grating against the inside of his throat like burning coals. The skin beneath his knuckles itched as he stood up, pulling his bass case from the upper shelf next to his backpack and slung both onto either shoulder. Keeping upright while the train moved was a bit of a chore, but he kept his eyes trained solely on the old woman, fighting to hold as much steadiness in his voice when he stood in front of her."Ma'am," he said, ducking his head a little to catch her lowered eyes.She huffed a surprised breath, stepping back then relaxing when she looked into his eyes a beat longer. Beneath the silken, banana-leaf patterned head wrap were two beady brown eyes in a weathered face. The lines at the corner of her eyes deepened when she raised her head, and asked in Arabic, "Do you need something, son?"Arajin nodded, jutting a thumb over his shoulder with his body angled to the side so that she could see. While he wasn't particularly tall, his bass case dwarfed him, much to his distaste. "You can have my seat," he tucked his hands in his pocket, shaking his head when she seemed ready to argue, "It's alright. My stop is coming up anyway, and I've got a ways to go. Besides, it's a good place to get some sleep."He winked at her, continuing in Arabic, "Trust me."Relief softened her face as she bowed to him a few times before shuffling off toward the empty seat. He watched her go, a tiny smile ghosting his lips until the raucous laughter from the boys broke the moment's tranquility. Arajin sucked his teeth, feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck until its fingers wrapped around his throat in an almost too-familiar hold. Their slicked back hair, and the thread of silver wound at the same side, were they that desperate to stand out?"Ehn, what are you looking at, bowl cut?"His eyebrow ticked. The boy sitting on the bench had noticed him, it seemed, glaring viciously with his chin jutted out and lips pulled back in a sneer. The boy beside him scowled, while the one crouched lifted his head up until Arajin could look at him upside down, and also pitched a menacing mien. Was this the best Honki City had to offer for their delinquents?Arajin released a puff of breath, an almost-there laugh, although he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. What a joke. He covered his face with the palm of his hand, trying to will away the red creeping at the edge of his vision.
Calm down.
"Trash, three pieces to be exact," he muttered aloud, earning affronted grunts. A clatter of clinking metal, likely belts and jewelry, footsteps nearing then moving around him. And as his hand fell from his eyes, he looked up to find himself surrounded. The boy behind would've been breathing down his neck if it weren't for his bass case, and the one leering at his side was undoubtedly waiting for a chance to sneak him should he look the other way.But it was the one in front of him, gaunt-face and sweet-breathed, that got on his nerves the most."Don't you know who we are, bastard?"Arajin cocked his head to one side, eyebrow raised. "When did I say that was about you? See..?"He stamped his foot on one of the wrapper papers for a pack of sweet bread, sliding it over until it rested at the tip of the boy's grey shoes. The boy to his right glanced down first, eyes flitting back and forth before he whispered in an almost embarrassed tone, "Er, aniki…"The one in front of Arajin cut a sharp glance at his underling, exchanging silent phrases in passing glances before he looked down. Arajin's lips curling into a smile when a vein popped out at his temple."If you thought you were a piece of trash, don't blame me," Arajin said, curling and uncurling his fingers in his pockets when their eyes met again. "But word of advice, you should learn to keep your insecurities to yourself. Your mom isn't here to pick you up, kid."Overhead, a dulcet three-toned chime echoed before a woman's pleasant voice announced, "We are now arriving at Honki City. Passengers, please prepare to exit using the leftmost doors. Please keep your hands clear of the doors. Next stop is…"The nervously glancing boy tugged at the sleeve of the one Arajin was squaring off with, whispering urgently, "Aniki, let's get out of here.""Tsk," the gaunt-faced boy snatched his arm from the other's grasp, rocking backward on unsteady feet as the train lurched to a halt. With a lingering, menacing glare, he turned away from Arajin and started toward the doors as they hissed, signaling their opening. "I'll remember you, mushroom boy."As the other boys followed suit, Arajin found that itching unbearable. Unable to help himself, and perhaps a bit incensed on the old woman's part, he called out, "See ya later then, bread bitch."The gaunt-faced boy's head whipped around, his mouth opened like a lion preparing to roar, but the exiting traffic swept him and his entourage out of sight. Arajin sucked his teeth, glancing aside in time to see the old woman staring at him with a crestfallen expression, her gaze quickly dropping when he raised a hand to wave. Her tiny form curled in her bag protectively.Arajin hummed low in his throat, scrubbing at the back of his neck irritably with his head bowed. Did it again.He bent down to snatch up the wrappers and scooped up as much of the chips as he could before shoving it all into the chip bag. His feet carried him along with the last trickle of passengers with his head bowed while the automated voice echoed from behind, "Please make sure to take all of your belongings as you exit. Kāpetto Railway thanks you for riding with us."I forgot how busy the station can get, Arajin thought as he strolled through the waves of foot traffic. No one wanted to bump into the guy with too-much luggage, and thus gave him a wider berth, but the number of people made maneuvering through the crowd a slog to do. It didn't help that he was exhausted with being perceived already. The silver and white-wearing rats nibbled their way through a vulnerable part of his nerves, which didn't exactly bode well for turning over a new leaf. With a sigh, he hung his head and surfed the crowd to reach a rest stop. The recycling bin's flap tottered when he shoved the chip bag inside, then fished around in his jacket pocket for the travel-sized hand sanitizer he usually carried on these trips.The sterile liquid smelled sharp, but the scent was a welcome one after the assault on his nose earlier.
Fucking losers.
He leant his head back against the tiled wall, watching the crowds go by. Some people running to catch their trains while others ambled leisurely. Students dressed in their uniforms, either leaving or heading to cram schools, or going out with their friends passed him by. Some people glanced in his direction, intrigued by the case over his shoulder if their wandering eyes were any indication, but the wonder lasted long enough for a breath before they were gone again. Arajin breathed in the stale, burning air around him, feeling as if the ozone in the atmosphere was thickening on his tongue. Humidity clung to him like an oversized sweater, beading sweat on his brow.
Alright, let's get home, talk to kaa-chan for a bit and take a bath.
"Arachiin!"Huh?Arajin turned around, searching for the caller who kept shouting that nickname into the station's bustling. He lifted his chin higher and braced on his tip-toes, lamenting the shorter height he'd been cursed with as the hordes of people seemed to grow taller. After stowing the hand sanitizer in his pocket, he shook out the prickling nerves in his arms and braced himself before starting a forward charge. People drifted out of his way, but one or two knocked elbows or shoulders with him. Half-assed apologies, and sidelong glances helped him float between the tide of exits and passengers. Now that the next train was moving on, the station's traffic thinned, and the yellow caution line was visible.As well as the woman standing in front of it, worriedly inching one way and the other with tiny mumbling noises. From behind, he saw the messy bun of chestnut hair peeking beneath her plain white head scarf matching the apron tied around at her back. Strands slipped loose from the bun's tie, sticking to the sides of her red sweat-slicked nape.She's been out in the sun too long. She'll pass out."Oi," he cupped a hand around the side of his mouth when the woman almost took a step forward past the line. "It's dangerous there, Oba-chan."Her shoulders stiffened, spine snapping straight so quickly that Arajin thought he might've heard her bones grinding. Achingly slow, like she was made of wood, she turned to look at him and his heart leapt. Misty brown eyes set upon him above a quivering mouth, and briefly his gaze dropped to the white sign in her shaking hands, black kanji hastily written across it in a way that made it look like one stroke reading - 'Arajin'.Realization set in so quickly that Arajin might've smacked himself for not recognizing her sooner. "K-Kaa-chan?!" He nearly threw down his things in his haste to get to her, but she darted forward instead, throwing herself into his outstretched arms."Oh, Arajin!" She all but wailed his name, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders with her face jammed against his neck. "There you are.""What are y—?" Arajin grunted, feeling the heat radiating from her body. He craned his neck as much as he could to try and find a vending machine. She needed to drink something before she passed out. But every time he tried to wrench himself far enough, his mom would tug him back and the hug felt times tighter."Eh," he hung his head after the third pull, hand-fanning the back of her neck instead, "what're you doing here and what's with the sign?""It's so that you know your mother is here!" She shouted against his shoulder, then gripped him by his upper arms as she pushed him back. Her lips pulled to one side, and eyebrows furrowed, "I thought your line was delayed so I came straight here, but then you weren't picking up your phone either."
My phone?
He patted along his pockets, finding it tucked on his left-side. The screen flickered to life, pushing a choked sound out of his throat when he saw all of his mom's missed calls. Habitually, he flicked the ringer on, remembering the way he shut it off as soon as he stepped onto the railcar."Sorry," he said, pushing his phone back into his pocket. "But was the sign really necessary, you look like you're waiting on a celebrity."His mother harrumphed, arguing passionately, "Of course it is! I'm waiting on my son, aren't I?"Arajin groaned, his cheeks feeling hotter at the attention from passerby. He could've sworn that he heard someone mutter that it was cute, and ducked his head. "And you came all the way here…" Then, the next piece of the puzzle fell into place and he gaped at her, "Wait, did you walk here?"His mom's face scrunched up like she had to sneeze, but her trembling lips hid a smile. "How else was I going to get here, silly…" She asked, knocking her knuckles against his shoulder playfully. The bass case shifted somewhat when her fingers brushed against the strap, eyes going wide with a curious, "Ooh, what's this?"Frozen still, Arajin let her buzz around him like a bee, tugging at the strap of his case and judging the heft of his backpack. It would've been hard to get a needle between her brows with how scrunched up her face was. Worried, he figured, but with something else as well."You brought back so little with you," she said, stepping back with the sign clutched to her chest.Arajin ruffled a hand through the back of his hair, avoiding her prying eyes with a toss of his head. "I didn't need the rest," he said, looping his arm around her shoulders to guide her through the crowd. "C'mon, let's go home.""What's the rush?" His mom asked, gesturing to some of the food stalls. "You've just got back, aren't you hungry?"His stomach almost groaned in answer, but Arajin tamped down the rebellion with a subtle shrug. He glimpsed her worried look from the corner of his eye, and smiled a little. "The food's better at your place, kaa-chan."Her cheeks pinked, head leaning against his as her arm snaked around his back to keep them steady while they climbed the staircase leading to the upper streets. Arajin's mouth fell open when they stepped onto the landing. Honki City had changed, but it also hadn't. The afternoon sunlight eclipsed everything, turning the buildings and streets into shades of gold. There was a skyscraper nearly on every block, tinier buildings wedged between in a mismatched array of colors that simply fit. Neon signs flickered to life with a mix of languages - Japanese, Mandarin, English, and Arabic, there illumination chasing away shadows lingering in the side-alleys and reflecting on puddles of water leaking from crowded ironwork. Cars rumbled by, perfuming the air with oil and exhaust fumes. People milling from one shop to another, street vendors handing out their wares with sun-glazed skin and bold grins before calling out in jarring, loud voices - like flowers attempting to attract bees. His mom tried to stray once or twice, but Arajin pulled her close, raising a hand to flag down a taxi."We could just walk, Arachiin," his mother protested, ever frugal about how much they spent, and the reminder bit at something in his chest.He pretended he didn't hear her with the city's din around them, waiting with bated breath as one of the taxi's broke through the flowing traffic and came to the curb where they stood. As the tinted passenger window rolled down, a portly older man leaned to look at them with bright twinkling eyes."Oho, if it isn't Yayako-san!" He greeted, giving Arajin's mom a big dopey grin.She waved back, giggling soft and wearily, "Good afternoon, Heiwajima-san."Arajin's eyes narrowed, his arm tightening around her shoulders. The act prompted the man to squint at him instead, "And this is…" he looked him over once, then twice, glancing between him and his mom with raised brows before recognition lit up his eyes. "A-Arajin-kun?!"
Took you long enough.
"Yo, ossa—" A little jab and a twist at his side made him cough, pretending to clear his throat before he continued, "er, Heiwajima-san. Could we get a ride back to the restaurant?"None the wiser, Heiwajima-san settled back into the driver seat. The little sign on the taxi turning to green as the door opened. Arajin lifted is arm from his mom, giving her a tiny glare while she shot him a reproachful look and shook her head. From inside, Heiwajima's voice carried, "No problem, I was just headed there myself."Arajin shouldered off his bag, setting it next to his mom who took it upon her lap. Sighing, he climbed in next and laid his bass case over his lap, the door shutting behind him."By the way, what's the special today, Yayako-san?"Arajin sighed, propping his elbow up on the arm rest with his cheek resting against his hand while his mom sprightly answered, "Fortune Bang Bang Chicken to celebrate my son's homecoming!" She clapped a hand over Arajin's shoulder, giving him a firm shake."Sounds like there'll be a feast," Heiwajima joked, bearing a chestful of laughs that filled the cab.Arajin frowned, turning his head to look at his mom, "Kaa-chan, you don't have to do that.""What do you mean?" His mom asked, fixing him with an incredulous look as if he'd grown too heads, "My Arajin is home, that's more than enough reason to celebrate.""At least let me help with the cooking," Arajin tried, scowling when his mom shook her head."No can do, you're the guest of honor.""Kaa-chan…""Now now, Arajin-kun," Heiwajima peeked at them from the rearview mirror, "You're not going to win an argument with your mother…" With a conspiratorial wink, he said, "Believe me, I've tried."Arajin could hardly hide a grimace, burying his mouth against his head with his chin sharply turned from them both. While he wasn't sure what sort of relationship Heiwajima thought he had with his mother, he hoped that it stayed benign at the least. "I'm washing the dishes," he said with a tone of finality.His mom uttered a stilted, "B—""No buts," he cut in, sharp and final.He imagined her staring at the back of his head, the concern that would be on her face when he cut her off like this. The disapproval. It wasn't often that they got into tense verbal matches, but he inherited his stubbornness from somewhere.Whether unaware of the mood, or wholly unfazed by their bickering, Heiwajima chortled, "Hoho, you're a hard worker too, eh Arajin-kun?" He sighed wistfully, pressing lightly on the brakes as they neared another traffic stop. "Better than the brats running around here nowadays."Arajin stared out the window, remembering the boys in silver and white when his eyes trailed over chrome street signs."You're in high school now, aren't you?"
He's not gonna shut up, is he?
"Mn," Arajin muttered, "I'll be going to Ichizu High.""I-Ichizu?"His head perked up, swiveling to look at Heiwajima's side profile. He could hardly catch his eyes in the rearview mirror, but from the look of his tight jaw and gripping hands, something was up. "Yeah," Arajin drew out, eyeing the old man suspiciously, "What of it?""Er, nothing, nothing," Heiwajima hesitated, and for the first time seemed to consider his words in great detail before he spoke. "Yayako-san is always bragging about how smart you are, I'm sure you'll do great there."Arajin blinked, cutting a glance toward his mom whose face gave little away, but her eyes seemed a few degrees cooler as she stared flatly at the back of Heiwajima's headrest. Then, like a switch was flipped, she pointedly met Arajin's gaze and flashed an encouraging smile.The taxi's brakes screeched to a halt in front of a red-bricked building. Arajin's eyes went wide at the white wooden sign over the sunshade, reading in bold characters, 'Chu Chu Chinese Restaurant'."Kaa-chan," his neck could've creaked with how rigidly he turned to face her as she exchanged pleasantries with Heiwajima. She hummed questioningly, a cat-like smile on her face."What's wrong?""Er, are we at the right place?""Mhm! Oh, is it the name? I decided to change it a few years ago, what do you think?"
It's terrible.
Arajin swallowed his bitter-tasting admonitions, sliding out of the cab then slinging his bass case over his shoulder. "What made you want to choose… this name?" He asked, stepping aside to let her out, though when he made a grab for his backpack, she held onto it with a protective fury and strode past without sparing a glance.
Guess she's mad about the chores thing.
"It's a lovely name given by someone I adore," his mother said when she stopped in front of the red-tiled stall riser surrounding the restaurant's entrance. A wistfulness touched her voice as she asked, "Neh, Arajin, do you remember your first words?"A brief wave of familiarity passed over him, and he remembered savory meals and fingers combing through his hair as he ate himself into a light sleep. His hand cupped the side of his neck, eyes trained on his mother's back. When had she gotten so small? "Why would I remember something like that?" He asked, averting his gaze when she glanced over her shoulder. Then, it dawned on him, "Hold on, you don't mean…!"She jumped upon his surprise like the cat that got the cream, grinning from ear to ear, "Exactly!" Mimicking a cat's paw by her head, she winked at him and said, "Chu Chu!"He felt a shiver run down his spine, something warm brushed across his heart, and embarrassment hunched his shoulders lower. "Kaa-chan, that's so…!""Heh," the snort from behind made Arajin whip his head around. He'd almost forgotten about Heiwajima, but the old man looked as cheery as ever, waving to him, "so it was you that got the old place spruced up, Arajin!"
Get lost, ossan.
As if hearing his thoughts, Heiwajima put both hands on the steering wheel and turned away from Arajin's piercing stare. "Yayako-san, I'll be back when you open up!""Bye bye!" Arajin heard his mom call, waving the driver away as his taxi rumbled down the street. He watched it long after Heiwajima turned the corner, keeping his eyes trained on the lowered window. The sound of a lock turning, and his mom's humming drew him away from his surveying when she called, "It's so good to be home!"
Home.
How long had it been, he wondered, since he returned to this place? When he stepped inside, the full force of the air conditioner hit him as a welcomed surprise from the afternoon's oppressive heat. Stepping past the door hangings, it felt as if he'd been suddenly propelled into the past. The green, steel-legged barstools lined up in front of a varnished wooden bar. Scuff marks on a once-polished red floor from when he tried to ride his bike indoors and nearly took his head off on one of the old yellow-topped seating tables. A smile quirked his lips as he took in everything - the shelves with nice glasses meant for the pleasant drunks that'd come and visit before the meaner ones at night. The television hanging over the doorway where everyone could see, although he doubted his mom ever found the remote after it was pilfered by a couple of punks watching the football game back then.
Who was even playing?
Arajin cracked a smile when he couldn't remember, huffing a laugh."What's so funny?" His mom asked, handing off his bookbag at last.He hiked a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, thumb looped in the strap of his case. "Nothing, just…" He looked up, meeting her gaze and a sense of nostalgia draped over his shoulders like a fine worn coat he hadn't donned in a while. It was still warm, and everything fit perfectly.Although his mom was older now, she still looked the same way she did in his memories. Dressed for work, ready to start her day with a smile and laugh, turning to greet her son after he'd come home after being gone.
At least you're here, kaa-chan.
"I'm home, kaa-chan."His mom tilted her head to one side, hair sliding over her shoulder and framing her face when she beamed. "Welcome home, Arajin."They kept one another's gaze for a bit longer before she clapped her hands together, breaking the illusion of serenity with her usual cheer. "Now, let's get started cleaning up—!"Arajin snorted, "Nope," he nodded toward the side entrance leading to the little loft where they lived. "Take a bath."His mom pouted, and he almost rolled his eyes. Seriously, how old was she? "You should take the first one, Arachiin.""Kaa-chan," he stepped forward until they were in front of each other, facing her down with a withering look. "Listen, I know it's weird with me being here, but you don't have to do it all by yourself." He slapped a hand against his chest, "I'm old enough to know how to handle a stove by myself, and wait on customers.""You're also starting high school," his mom turned to face him, setting her calling sign on the bar counter, "and you just came home from abroad, that's an adjustment in itself.""I was in Okinawa last," Arajin reminded. "It isn't that big of a change. Although, there's a lot less skating here.""Aha," his mom tapped the tip of his nose before he could pull his head away in time. "And there's that too. You have to learn what's here. It's been five years, Arajin."And there stood the problem with it all. Five years of being away from home, of her living in this place and running it alone. It settled in his stomach with discomfort, lurching and knocking against his ribs. He thought of it often, tried to time the moments when he could call her and know he wasn't interfering in her sleep. She let him go, he remembered it well when she bid him goodbye. He had his reasons, ones that seemed so shallow now when he looked at her.She was fine. She had to have been, because she would have told him otherwise, right?"I'm fifteen now, I'm not a kid anymore.""You're my baby.""Kaa-chan," Arajin protested, fighting the urge to stamp his foot down or raise his voice indignantly. He wouldn't disrespect his mom like that, and stamping his foot would definitely hurt his chances at being seen as an adult in her eyes. Though, he knew his face was likely puffed up with rage. The curve of his ears felt hot too, until something cool gently tucked his hair behind his ear tips, lingering there for a spell. When he blinked, he saw how close his mom's face was, and figured from the way her arm was outstretched that it was her hands tucking his hair away from his face."Hear me out," she said, cupping his face in her palms. Her forehead pressed to his, nestling close until all he could see was the light brown of her eyes reflecting his face. "You will always be my baby. No matter how old you are, no matter how far you go."She lightly ruffled his hair, making his nose scrunch. "I'll always worry about you, and want to protect you. And that means not letting you deal with adult things before you're ready. So, you should enjoy your youth as long as you've got it," pulling back, she poked the tip of his nose with a wink, "That's an order, mister."Arajin blinked at her, cracking a smile after a moment passed. "I'm still doing the dishes," he said.His mom sighed playfully, "Alright," grabbing one of the rags on the counter then lobbing it at him. Arajin lifted his hand, catching it in mid-air. His mom nodding toward the deep sinks behind the counter. "You can get started with the ones already in the sink."Arajin waved his hand, shrugging off case, propping it up near the sliding door. His backpack dropped beside it, and rolled off his sleeves, stepping behind the counter. "And I'll help out on the weekends, kaa-chan."She snatched up another rag, setting to cleaning off the tables, "Shouldn't you try to make friends with kids your age?""At Ichizu?" Arajin groaned uncertainly, setting the dishes on one side before he turned on the faucet. "Heiwajima seemed shaken up about it, something I should know?""Mm, it's a rough school. Most of the ones in the inner-cities are, but Ichizu is different…" He heard her hum softly, as if considering something, "You had plenty of options, didn't you? Why that one?"The water filled upon the deep basin, trickling and burbling as it flowed from the faucet. He picked up the blue bottle of dish soap, turning it over to empty part of it into the sink. The clear water taking on a blueish-tinge, reflected his lidded eyes and pursed lips.When there was no response, his mom continued, "Matakara-kun goes there too. He's a first-year, the same as you."Arajin's fingers twitched. "You seen him?""Almost everyday," his mom said. "Though he comes around a little less now, his aunt and uncle have him working in the bathhouse."
The bathhouse, huh?
His nose twitched at the memory of sulfur and salt, blue eyes, an outstretched hand. The calm before the storm.He squeezed the rag balled up into a wad of cloth in his fist, and plunged it into the water. A few of the dishes knocked around, clattering together in giving off the feigned perception of being cleaned. When his mom didn't ask, he didn't press.Mitsu-nii…Another snort followed a quiet laugh. "Since when was Matakara more adult than me?""Different houses, smart guy," his mom flicked him on the shoulder when she wandered behind him to grab a bottle of cleaning solution from the storage cabinet."Heh…" A smile ghosted his lips, but it was short-lived when he remembered Matakara. Even the earlier layered dream he had on the train dealt with memories of a boy with the sky in his eyes. Arajin wouldn't say that the thought of him was upsetting, but it definitely made something in his chest ache. Knowing how much time had been lost between them, when their paths diverged instead of going on together as they'd always been.He plunged his wrists back into the water as his mother passed by, humming. The ghost of Matakara's fingers around his still lingered, though he tried his best to wash it away. If only to keep himself from falling back into old habits. Still, his heart stuttered at the thought of Matakara being somewhere. Should he have felt ashamed to be so relieved? That even when he wasn't here, Matakara was…"…How is he?" Arajin asked hesitantly, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible.His mom hummed, the click and spraying nozzle punctuating her words as she paused each time she moved to clean off another surface. "Fine, he's grown up a lot. Though, he still asks about you. Did you get the letters he wrote?"He swallowed hard, shrugging, "Nah, we moved around too much.""Is that right?" She trailed off, then gleefully chirped, "Well, maybe the two of you will run into each other again. Pick up where you left off."
Left off…
He pulled out a sopping wet dish, staring at his dull-eyed reflection in it. "Yeah, maybe…"After the dishes were finished, Arajin gathered his things and headed up to his room. While the restaurant's face might have changed, the inside of it was exactly the same as when Arajin left. He set his bass down by the desk where he used to work on old projects - carving wood and stone into shapes or inscribing them with tiny words to pass on to others. The tools were still in his drawer, having gathered dust from the time he was away. In the far right corner, his bed was nestled atop of a violet and blue Persian carpet. When he was still a kid, it was hard getting used to sleeping in his own bed.A number of nights were spent with either his mom or dad by his side, the former combing her fingers through his hair until he dozed off, while the latter would tell him stories about faraway lands he'd only see once he was grown. When the time came for him to sleep alone, he clung to the thought of his parents being by his side, and eventually grew so happy to have his own space that he'd do flips and tricks to test how strong the bed was.A smile crossed his lips when he found a deeper depression in the mattress where childhood bravado sent him careening higher than he'd normally would, until his head smacked against the ceiling and he went plummeting down in a messy, dazed heap.
Maybe that energy can go towards something else.
He stroked along the tucked duvet, remembering his dad checking over his head for any sign of injury while his mom buzzed anxiously in the doorway. Those words were what brought him to the Tomoshibi Dojo, and after that, it was history.Arajin turned his head, eyeing the wall collage of posters depicting martial artists, video game characters and bands he used to fawn over. It all looked like relics of another time preserved in a museum that'd once been his bedroom. Fresh, aromatic detergent permeated his sheets and he deduced that his mom must have given them a wash before he was scheduled to come home.Always worrying, he thought with a slight smile, setting his book bag atop of his bed then unzipping each compartment to let everything tumble out. Little knickknacks from his travels spilled onto the blue comforter, as well as his travel bag and a black zipped-up plastic bag. He glanced toward his bedroom door, making sure that it was still closed and locked before unzipping the bag. Inside, white sheaves of paper were meticulously folded and placed one after the other. Some bore rips and tears at their edges, while others were dog-eared and worn, thumbed over so many times that their crisp corners blunted.Arajin stared at the pages, then inched his fingers inside, grasping one in a delicate hold before easing it away from the others. The plastic bag slipped out of his hand, dropping with a light puff as he sat down beside his bag, reading over the letter.
Ara-chan,
I heard from Yayako-san that you'll be coming back to the city tomorrow. I don't know if you'll get this letter, but, if you do - I want you to know that I'd love to see you. It's been awhile, and there's so much to catch up on. Sending these letters might be a little silly, I've never gotten a reply after all, but I want to see you, Ara-chan.
Let's have a welcome home party like we used to.
— Mata
Arajin sighed, folding the letter up along its creases. He bent his head, resting his forehead against the page with downcast eyes. The room felt too stuffy then, too full of memories. If he looked up, he thought he would've seen himself as a kid with Matakara, heads bent over the comic book they scrounged up enough pocket change for by sweeping the restaurant's front porch and scrubbing the baths at the bathhouse. Excited gasps over a new move pulled off by the valiant heroes would lead to re-enactments, playful shoving, then tussling until they were laughing in a heap.His hand pressed down beside him, sinking into the soft mattress.If the day got particularly late, Matakara would stay over. His hand smoothed over the duvet, chasing away rippling wrinkles as he imagined the two kids splayed out as far as they could go, seeming to compete in taking up space.
This bed wasn't as big when he slept over.
Arajin closed his eyes, and sighed, tucking the letter back with the others then shoving it behind a few things on his bookshelf. Better that his mom doesn't come look for it. Though, the dust he kicked up made his nose wrinkle and he sneezed harshly, scrubbing a finger beneath his nose.I'll have to clean in here eventually.Things wouldn't stay the same forever, he supposed.When he made his way downstairs, his mom was just turning the sign over to show that they were open. She stopped in mid-turn, likely surprised at seeing him in the same clothes. He toed his shoes on at the genkan, anticipating the question of, "Are you going out now? What about the bath?"He waved a hand over his shoulder as he stood up. "I've gotta pick up my uniform before tomorrow. Plus, the principal and my homeroom teacher wanted to talk to me.""About what?" The confusion was plain in his mom's voice, "You haven't been here long enough to do anything."Arajin laughed sharply, turning to face her as he walked backwards. "Who knows."His mom pursed her lips, squinting at him suspiciously then shaking her head. "Well, be careful and get home before the streetlights come on.""Got it," Arajin called back, turning around and starting down the street.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
With every step taken from the sanctuary of Chu Chu Restaurant, the weights of remembrance tied around Arajin's ankles grew. His shadow bent backward against sun-washed asphalt; its length pulled long by the sun in a poor attempt to conceal the dogged pursuit of trailing ghosts desperate to latch upon his heels. He did his best to keep his gaze firmly placed ahead while trying to recall the directions to Ichizu from his cell's GPS, but the familiar sights beckoned him with voices he'd only allowed himself to dwell upon in his dreams. It was a mistake, he realized now, to indulge in his desire curiosity to know about Matakara's well-being over the last couple of years.If anything, Arajin kicked himself for not knowing better than asking his mom about Asamine Matakara. The blasé interrogation wouldn't be the worst of it, as he doubted now that he showed some form of interest, she would let it go with that. Plain prompting questions bellied the magnitude of her unspoken wish to know what happened to the idealized fantasy of her son making friends.Honestly, if Tomoshibi Yayako could have another child, it would be Asamine Matakara.The first time Matakara stepped foot in their restaurant and proclaimed with pride that he was Arajin's friend, Arajin knew Yayako's heart was set on making the boy comfortable in their family. That meant Arajin had to play his part as well — taking an extra lunch everyday for Matakara to have, walking him home after school when his older brother couldn't pick him up, sharing a bath with him on the nights they'd have to stay together, defending him from bullies.The laundry list of Matakara-related chores could have gone on forever, but Arajin couldn't recall a time when he minded it.Somehow, life felt right with Matakara by his side, and the little things he did for him became second nature. Arajin liked being the one to make Matakara's eyes light up like a summer blue sky when he received an unexpected Tomoshibi-style bento, and hearing the way he'd chirp a thanks happily before digging in. There was something about Matakara's smile that made Arajin feel like he'd done all the rights things in the world and finally got the payback he was due. Though if anyone asked why that was, he didn't think he would have the words to explain it back then. Now, it was utterly impossible to.The warmth of being caught in Matakara's sun was a feeling he hadn't experienced in the last five years, and felt more like a dream with each passing day.Arajin scrubbed the back of his head with the palm of his hand, blowing out a heavy sigh as he looked around. There was much about the streets around his house that hadn't changed over the years. The local convenience store a few blocks down sold majin kebabs for dirt cheap. Posters plastered in the cloudy windows advertising their taste and freshness behind a layer of grime with a cheap sticker plastered over the original price. He averted his eyes upon passing the dimly lit exterior, a salaryman in a rumpled suit stumbling out of the alleyway behind the shop with a loose cigarette tucked behind his ear and a grumble under his breath.Arajin moved to side-step the man's lumbering gait, keeping his eyes forward as he dutifully ignored the jingling coins and the moldy scent of tobacco clinging to him like a second skin."Oi kid," Arajin heard the man call out toward his back. He closed his eyes, drawing in a steadying breath of fresh air before tipping his head to glance over his shoulder.The man pulled his hands from his pockets with his palms raised in a show of submission, cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips half-pulled in a smile that made Arajin's stomach turn. "Got a light?" He asked, painfully casual and light for someone Arajin had never met before.Arajin frowned slightly, drawing his hands from his pockets as well. "I'm underage," he said, hoping it would be left at that but the turning feeling in his stomach had never lied to him before.Almost like clockwork, the man's lips pulled up in a full smile and the filter of the cigarette caught in his lips bent slightly. "Don't gimme that," he barked out a laugh and hooked a thumb at his stubbled jaw with a wink, "You kids are pretty mature nowadays, right?"The turning in Arajin's stomach tightened like a spring that'd been pulled too tight. It threatened to snap as the man stepped toward him, beady eyes glinting and hand outstretched with his fingers curled in a beckoning motion."I won't tell your folks, promise."The syrupy sweetness he spoke the last word cracked the spring in Arajin's stomach, and like a coil unwound, he jumped at the older man and snapped, "Get lost!"The man's eyes widened, and the oily smile slid off his face in place of a scowl. His brows furrowed as he took another step forward, no longer shuffling and inviting, but menacing as his shadow threatened to overwhelm Arajin. And wasn't this familiar?As a kid, Arajin remembered being shooed inside by the town's "community watch", who he was convinced had nothing better to do than harass kids and tote around their silly little titles. These were the creeps they should have been working to keep off the streets, but who else would keep them feeling important?Arajin's knuckles itched as he stepped forward, sinking into the approaching shadow and braving the cloying scent of his smoke to meet him head-on. At the sudden assertion, the salaryman stumbled backward a step and a flicker of fear passed through his eyes as he jerked his chin to one side and sucked his teeth."Tsk," he grumbled, lumbering off in the opposite direction with audible curses muttered over his breath, "Damn brats don't respect their elders nowadays.""Ain't nothin' to respect," Arajin shouted at his retreating back, waiting until the hunched figure was out of sight before he released his trembling fists.Frustration clawed its way into his very bones and spread throughout his body like a virus as he turned his hands up to examine the damage. The skin at the center of his palms stung an angry red, pale crescents cutting off the fate-reading lines inscribed into his skin as blood rapidly rushed to heal the wounds. He didn't understand why this couldn't have been one of the things that changed. A need to protect himself from the outside world had always been there but he hated having to put his hands up for every threat that came his way.For a small moment, he considered turning around and heading home. His mother would be there to greet him with open arms and a warm meal. There was also a chance he could get a few hours of practice in with his bass, play her a song if she pestered him enough for one. School could be put off for another horrifying instance, and he could live in a blissful ignorance of what fate awaited him. The thought didn't last long, Arajin's shoulders falling with another sigh - one he felt deep within his soul.Even home wasn't the same.It was only him and his mom now, and that meant he had a responsibility to keep pushing forward. Even if he wanted nothing more than to go back to how things used to be, there was no turning back. Not for real anyway.Arajin stared down the empty street where the disheveled salaryman disappeared, and snorted a laugh. "Must be nice to pretend everything can go the way you want, huh?" He tucked his hand in his pocket, ignoring the tingling in his palms as he turned back to the path he was on and continued walking.He pretended not to hear the ghosts of laughing children in his memories, or the squeeze of a hand he'd long since let go of.
"… This place is a dump."Arajin's hand thumped against his thigh as he let his hand fall, and his cellphone with it. His phone screen, still illuminated with the real-time GPS location, chimed cheerfully that he'd reached his destination: Ichizu High.But this couldn't really be it, was it?The building itself was massive but every inch of its white-washed walls were covered in as much graffiti as it could hold. Arajin couldn't begin to make out what each piece said with how much was layered atop of one another. Tags to murals of caricatures he couldn't name off the top of his head caught his eye, and even the school's name had been spray painted over the second-floor windows. One of which was replaced with a large slab of wood with green tape plastered in an 'x', likely to keep it from coming undone. Arajin's eyebrow twitched as he stared up at the onion-shaped dome, glittering a deep teal in the afternoon sunlight.His shoulders curved inward, head bowed slightly as he wandered beneath the main gate's arch. The walkway leading up to the school missed bricks in several areas, showing the packed earth underneath as well as patches of overgrown grass. Makeshift barricades made from the debris of desks pile up on either side, the wood defaced with lime green thunderbolts and crudely-drawn pictures of food. Arajin grimaced at what looked to him like a hedgehog wearing green and brown tufts on its quills, but with his head tipped to the side, it might have looked halfway decent.For a grade-schooler.Arajin tipped his head back, staring past the swaying palm trees bent over with the heaviness of the fruit they carried toward the tattered carpets and colorful scarves hanging from the windows like banners. Was this really where he was going to be spending the next few years of his youth?His mother's insistence for him to enjoy the time he had echoed mockingly in his ears. The idea of going home and deciding to leave this bleak, terribly color-coded reality to another version of him didn't seem that bad in hindsight."Tomoshibi-san!"His shoulders twitched with a flinch, and his lips pursed to hold back the scathing remark bubbling up from his churning stomach. Like a magnet, the call of his name turned Arajin around to find a bespectacled brown-haired man running toward him. The toe of his shoe caught in the uneven bricks and he nearly stumbled once or twice over the unearthed patches, incredibly avoiding planting fully on his face with another stumbling step.It reminded Arajin of a train wreck. Once seen, it was hard to look away.The man skidded to a stop in front of him, panting and gasping for air with his hands clasped against his knees. He was shuddering so much that Arajin considered a stiff breeze could knock him over, or a little puff of a breath against the top of his head. Arajin sighed, waiting to see if the man would fall over like a house of sticks. When the hacking and coughing mess in front of him didn't so much as buckle, Arajin leaned back on one foot as it dawned on him that he missed his chance to pretend he wasn't 'Tomoshibi-san'.And it sounded as if this guy ran a marathon to come see him. Didn't that deserve its own reward?With a hand cupped against the side of his neck, Arajin huffed through his nos and scratched at the shorn hair at the top of his nape. "Er, are you alright…?" He asked, crouching a little to at least attempt to talk to the man face to face when all he could see was the back of his head."Y-Yes, I'm fine," the man wheezed, stumbling up to his feet with a sway that was almost dangerously fatal with how he tipped back. Arajin reached out a hand to steady him but was rebuffed when the man scrambled upright with a cough into his elbow.When he lowered his arm, Arajin winced at the panting, gaunt face underneath a shock of windswept brown hair. Sweat dripped from the man's chin, and with a shaking hand, he reached into the pocket of his green suit jacket to pull out a handkerchief lined with cats around its edges. Arajin's eyebrow twitched as he watched the man dab at his forehead and cheeks, then push up the frame of his brown glasses to wipe his eyes. Once he was done, the handkerchief was folded neatly around its already deeply-lined creases and tucked in his breast pocket innocuously blending in with a smart pale blue tie."It's a pleasure to meet you, Tomoshibi-san," the man said with a timidity that made picking out his words rather difficult even at such a close distance. "My name is Otomi Kanchi, and I will be your homeroom teacher."He bowed his head, and Arajin was grateful for the excuse to keep from looking at his face for a little while. Heiwajima's concern for his choice in schools made more sense. If the school looked like this and his homeroom teacher was like that, surviving his first year as a high-schooler was going to take more than keeping up his grades. Arajin cast a withering stare up to the building's windows; his breath hitching as he caught a glimpse of a silhouette in one of the windows on the third-floor. With the sun's glare, he couldn't make out exactly who it was but the shadow lingered for a moment before disappearing when Arajin blinked at his new homeroom teacher's questioning, "Tomoshibi-san?""E— I-I'm listening," Arajin stammered, clearing his throat before he hastily dropped into a bow with his eyes scrunched up tight. "It's a pleasure to meet you… sir. I'm Tomoshibi Arajin.""O-Oh…"The bewildered sigh popped one of Arajin's eyes open, and the other followed suit as he slowly raised his head. Otomi-sensei's mouth hung open loosely, and in the dimness cast by the palm tree hanging over them, there was a gentle warmth stirring in his gaze. His eyes were a bit shinier as if he was seeing something that he couldn't believe, and Arajin cocked his head to one side, utterly at a loss for what that could be."Uh, Otomi-sensei?""A-Ah, yes!" Otomi-sensei snapped upright with a posture as straight as a ruler, tweaking the arm of his glasses with a laugh bordering upon hysterical. Then, with a sweeping curve of his arm toward the main entrance of the school, he said, "This way, please."Arajin gave his new homeroom teacher's back a long stare, then dropped his head in resignation before he followed along. When they reached the main entrance into the school building, Arajin noticed there were no doors to unlock or any doors to speak of at all. A trio of oblong shawls hung on the left side in garish pink, reds, yellows, and greens while on the right were a pair of infinity scarves wound about one another in a wave-like pattern of blue and white. They billowed in the wind, swaying almost violently with the tassels hanging from their lengths batting at one another in the brief instances where their threads could meet. In the back of Arajin's mind, he could hear the war cries and anguished screams coming somewhere from deeper within the building though he knew no one should be here at this time.It was like a thousand battles were fought here and the structure itself couldn't help but keep the memory of them.A shiver ran down his spine as he shook the thought off, then hustled after Otomi-sensei who was waiting for him on the raised floor separating the entry way and foot lockers from the first floor hall. Arajin stepped over the trash littering the ground, fanning a hand in front of his nose to combat the smell of rust and molding food. His stomach turned and a notch of irritation fit itself in his left temple when he looked around for the guest slippers, and found a crumpled beer can in the cubby. His trembling fist curled tight around the can until it crunched into a misshapen 'U'.He punched the beer can into the nearest trash can, wishing that he'd brought his hand sanitizer with him when a roach scurried across the flapping lid before disappearing inside."Otomi-sensei," Arajin muttered, the words barely audible under his mounting agitation. He joined the teacher on the raised floor and followed beside him with his hands firmly stuck in his pockets, refusing to look away from his back. "How did you start working here?"Otomi-sensei's shoulders twitched upward before he looked at him with alarm. "Hm? How—" His voice pitched, self-consciousness bleeding into his voice as he curled in on himself somewhat as he added, "W-What do you mean?"Arajin's mind buzzed with uncertainty, and he wondered just how okay this guy was with leading a classroom. Teenagers could be the worst when it came to blatant criticism, how did he survive a class teaching them? "Er, it's just that you don't fit the… vibe of this place," he pointed out, twirling a finger in the air as if gesturing to the enormity of everything around them."Ahaha," Otomi-sensei laughed, though there was no humor to be found in it. He almost seemed drained and Arajin began to suspect the gauntness of his facial features wasn't just from a hard day's work. Like a flower deprived of sunlight, he wilted before Arajin's eyes and exhaled harshly. "I suppose you're right. Truthfully speaking, I don't know either."Silence crept between them, stretching into a lull that followed them as they passed by classrooms with desecrated doors and cloudy windows. Arajin nudged a pair of buckets out of his path and pinched his nose to keep from hurling at the vile scent coming from them. Stale, grey water growing fuzzy patches of algae on its surface reflected his pinched brows and scowling lips. The bucket's silver handle was half-broken off, leaving only a small knob and when Arajin tipped his head just so, it almost looked as if the knob was protruding from his temple. He could imagine the voices of the opposing sides he'd imagined earlier would have used this bucket as one of their weapons of choice.He grimaced, drawing up to full height with a withering glance tossed up and down the trash filled hallway. Without anyone else there, he could have considered the entire place to be abandoned and expected the police to tell him off for trespassing. But this place was supposed to be a school of all things. If anything, it looked like a gang's headquarters."In here, Tomoshibi-san," Otomi-sensei called out, pulling Arajin from his thoughts and reminding him of what he'd actually come for. With another glance spared toward his surroundings, and his stomach's twisting gurgle, Arajin steeled himself for the worst before following Otomi-sensei into the room he disappeared into.Despite the tags covering the door sign, Arajin was surprised to find that the teacher's room actually resembled what he thought it would be. There wasn't an inch of colorful, bubbly words to be seen or garbage left openly for someone to step on. Although, the number of files and paperwork stacked at each computer was a little concerning. Arajin walked past a rather impressive tower, careful to give the desk's end a wide berth to avoid knocking it over. Drawers slammed shut, and papers rustled as he peered around the tower to find Otomi-sensei hard at work at the desk beneath it.The concern that this was his homeroom teacher's desk was swept aside in favor of examining the binders and folders in the pile. One was decorated with purple and green lightning bolts, primary color balloons and a picture of a duck of all things. It stuck out the most in a sea of white, navy blue, and black. But what would a teacher want with something so… tacky?Arajin pursed his lips in a thin line, squinting at it a little closer until he heard a sharp gasp. "I found it," Otomi-sensei cried out, holding up a square see-through packing of a dark-colored uniform. He hugged it close to his chest, twisting left and right while practically smothering it in his embrace. "Oh thank heavens, I thought I would have another month's pay taken for th—"After another turn brought Arajin back into his line of sight, Otomi-sensei stiffened up as if he'd been caught in the act of something shameful. Arajin couldn't say that he hadn't been but he was quickly becoming certain that it was best to ignore his homeroom teacher's moments of whimsy. It was probably the difference between the nervous teacher having an outright breakdown, or completely resigning. If he was the baseline for what normal might be at this school, then Arajin would need him to stick around as much as possible.Otomi-sensei cleared his throat, then turned the package over in his hands before presenting it to Arajin with a courteous bow. "H-Here you are, Tomoshibi-san,""Thanks…" Arajin mumbled, taking it from him one-handedly. "Ah, and about wearing my changshan…"Otomi-sensei plopped down on his rolling chair, the wheels giving a squeak as he pushed back from the desk and turned to face Arajin. "Mm, you received special permission from the principal," he said, the smile he wore settled within his weary voice giving his words an airiness that was almost boyish. Even the corner of his lips threatened to turn up into a smile, lessening the tiredness on his face by a fraction. "I would like to say, thank you for asking in advance. While our uniform policies aren't strict, there is an image Ichizu wishes to keep…"As he trailed off, looking to the tower of files and papers, Arajin nodded along. "Our students are our pride, and the face of our institution, as the principal says. It's best to nourish their individuality, while also reminding them to work together."Arajin's eyes narrowed to slits. "That what the principal thinks?""Mn," Otomi-sensei said, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Our principal is a rather convincing man."Bitterness coated the flat of Arajin's tongue as he pressed the tip of it against his teeth to keep the biting remark from slipping past. Instead, he swallowed the daggers and averted his eyes, muttering under his breath, "You're telling me."Whether Otomi-sensei heard him or not hardly mattered. He'd gotten what he'd come for and the only thing he had to do was make a polite excuse to leave, and beat it back home to put this waking nightmare off for another hours."That being said, what made you decide to enroll here, Tomoshibi-san?"Arajin paused, hesitated before lifting his chin to meet the teacher's eyes. There was a steadiness in his gaze that hadn't been there from the moment they'd first met. As if he was actually looking at Arajin rather than trying to placate, and seeing something that not even Arajin himself was sure of. Arajin's eyebrow twitched, the edging annoyance that'd been building since he stepped foot on the school grounds beginning to spill forth as his ears burned hotly and the itchiness returned to his hands.Just what did this guy want from him?As though realizing the change in the air, Otomi-sensei waved a hand placatingly while explaining, "I only ask because you don't seem very impressed with the way things are at a glance. You're a bright student, so why…"The tail-end of his question fell into a void of nothingness as the rattle of the door opening shattered the tension like glass. Arajin closed his eyes, twisting a hand against his middle as if he could loosen the tightness in his gut with force alone. Otomi-sensei's chair gave off another pitiful squeak as the man stumbled to his feet, and upon Arajin opening his eyes, lowered his head in a bow."Jin-sensei," Otomi-sensei greeted, and Arajin felt the plastic covering his uniform pull taut within his grasp. "It's good to see you, sir."Arajin's lips tightened inwards, and his jaw clenched as a voice deep within its richness and smooth in its cadence began to answer."You as well, Otomi-kun. My apologies for requesting that you stayed later to greet our newest student," the smile hidden within those lotus-eating words grated at Arajin's nerves but the sincerity dripping through flowed like a gentle stream. He made it sound as if waiting was an effort worthy of a medal, and from the way Otomi-sensei's eyes shone, he didn't seem to mind at all."It's no trouble at all, sir," Otomi-sensei cried out, projecting his voice louder than needed in a room with only three occupants.Arajin sucked his teeth, glancing away from the pitiful scene when he was unable to bare looking at him any longer. If this was what made adults successful, then he would much rather resign himself to mediocrity."That said, it is quite late. I'll take over from here. Tomoshibi Arajin-kun, come with me, won't you?"A flash of frustration creased Arajin's brow as he pieced together the last bit of patience he had. When he turned to face the speaker, he had to lift his chin to fully meet the man's eye. He was at least two heads taller than Arajin, with a presence that filled the doorway let alone the room without him taking a step inside.His short, coifed black hair greyed softly at the temples, sweeping upward like a bird's wings with silver-tinged tips. Pink eyes trained upon Arajin with interest, exuding a warmth half-perpetrated by the waning sunlight coming in from the large window along the office's back wall. The onset of crow's feet visible to Arajin's eyes as the man's lips pulled back, showing a sliver of white teeth lined perfectly together like the plots of a graveyard."Sure," Arajin muttered after a breathless pause, the weight of his next word punctuated by a wheezing pop as his fingernail dug into the plastic. "Sir.""How did you like your first viewing of Ichizu, Arajin-kun?"Copper tipped Arajin's tongue as he lapped at the bruise on the inside of his cheek. His teeth sunk harshly into the sinew, but the pain was enough to remind him not to swing at the older man's back. Arajin glanced askance at his reflection in the windows. While it was still murky from a lack of cleaning, there was enough visibility for him to gauge Jin-sensei's expression. And he absolutely hated the smirk on his lips as he continued walking ahead, seemingly oblivious to the watchful eyes on his back. Arajin's teeth clacked together with how hard he gritted them."Cut the shit," he snapped, glaring at Jin-sensei's back as the older man turned around with a little curve to his smile."Well now," Jin-sensei said, his voice almost cooing as he tipped his head to one side and regarded Arajin with half-lidded eyes one would give to an adoring child or pet. The notion of either being a potential reason for that look made Arajin's skin crawl just as much as his fists ached to punch it in. "Where's the well-mannered boy I spoke to before?"Arajin forced out a sigh, shaking his head to clear it as much as he disagreed. "You were pretending not to know me in front of Otomi-sensei, so I returned the favor..""Mm, that's true," Jin-sensei said, tapping a finger against his chin. The bearded goatee streaked with hints of silver along his side-burns and through his mustache shifted as he smiled with his teeth. "A good impression will make for an easier transition, don’t you think?"For some reason Arajin couldn't understand, those words rankled his nerves more than anything. Did this creep take some sort of sick pleasure in watching him try to hold back? Or was it that he wanted to see him like this all along?Arajin sucked his teeth, ignoring the smarting pain in his cheek. "So you're already aware this school you're running looks closer to a prison yard than an actual place of learning. Guess you're not senile just yet."Jin-sensei inclined his chin a centimeter, the smile diminishing in its magnitude and Arajin felt a wave of pride rush through him. Pink eyes slanted away from him and toward the clouded windows, peering down at something below. While his better judgment told him never to take his eyes off this man, Arajin followed suit although hesitantly and his eyebrow raised at the sight of a courtyard. Defaced as the rest of Ichizu was, the courtyard resembled an oasis. The greenery surrounding the area was somewhat unkempt, adding to the flair of it. A walkway bordered on either side by permeable pavers allowing water to flow from the fountain at the center of the courtyard, cool and pristine down to where it disappeared in the grates nearest to a gigantic stone slab.At a closer look, it seemed to be a hunk of stone cleaved out of one of the pillars from the nearby pavilions. A pink and green lightning bolt spray-painted onto its tanned surface with a rubber duck taking flight in front of it. Arajin blinked slowly, then reached up to rub his eyes before bringing his face closer to the glass. That wasn't actually a rubber duck, was it?"Delinquency is ruining the image of this institution, but we at Ichizu pride ourselves on assisting the young in growing into their idealized image. This war taking place on our grounds is but a stepping stone to that goal."Arajin pulled back slightly, recalling the echoes he'd felt earlier. Another shiver ran down his spine as he muttered softly, "War? Is that what all those tags are for?Jin-sensei hummed, stroking the tip of his beard. "Urawa, Gakusuin, Kaiser, Azabu, Musashi… excellent in their academic endeavors, but the worst of their ilk came here to hide their inner turmoil…" He crossed his hands behind his back, pulling himself up to his full-height where the breadth of his shoulders filled out the entirety of his suit with ease. Like this, he resembled a king overlooking a blemish in his kingdom with the intent to rectify it. "Now, there's only two left — Minato Kai and Siguma — and they've proven to be quite vicious. This school has become a battleground for them, in a sense."Arajin's heart began to pick up in its beating. The thunderbolts, the duck, and the red, yellow, and lime green - they were the color of a gang's territory. But there was another as well, the blue and white. If the other five were defeated, then those two must have been the worst of the worst.
What about the silver and purple assholes on the train? A small-fry contender, or…
"I'm sure you'll come across them during your time here," Arajin startled at the sudden address, jerking his head up to find Jin-sensei regarding him from the corner of his eye. Something akin to amusement crinkled there in the creases of the crow's feet, and the smile he wore didn't quite match the one in his voice. "But do try not to neglect your studies to entertain their squabbles. We wouldn't want your grades slipping from distractions, now would we?"He turned on his heel, starting down the hallway again with his shadow stretching long across the opposite wall. It wavered and undulated like a snake and Arajin chewed on the inside of his lip to avoid reaching his hand out to tear off its head.Soon enough, their wandering brought them back to the school's main entrance and the warm wind drifting inside from the open interior reminded Arajin to look closely at the scarves hanging over the entry way. Jin-sensei didn't attempt to strike up conversation with him immediately, nor did Arajin wish to say anything to him either."As for the favor I asked of you," Jin-sensei prompted, breaking the tense silence as he rifled through his breast pocket and pulled out a flat square paper. "This would be it."He handed it to Arajin, who glanced at the piece with suspicion before taking it. Flipping it over, his eyebrows raised at the image printed on the other side. A young, pale-skinned girl with pink eyes stared up at him. Her dark hair fanned out at her shoulders, and the pink-black swirls at the top of her head were connected to a braid, ending off with two plaits adorned by red heart-clasps. She was smiling gently with her arms wrapped around another who was cropped out of the frame, and the uniform she wore was frillier than any he'd seen.Everything about her screamed cute, but he felt a bitterness at the back of his tongue and his stomach turned. Those pink eyes reminded him far too much of the man at his side, and Arajin flipped the image over before it became too nauseating for him to stand.Arajin cut a disapproving look at the man, scowling. "The favor is a girl?""My daughter," Jin-sensei corrected, kindly but with a firmness that told Arajin he shouldn't refer to her like that again. "Jin Mahoro. She's wrapped herself into this war to no avail, and as her father, I'm concerned she may come to harm. If you could keep an eye out for her, you would have my utmost gratitude."Arajin scoffed, holding the photo out to him. "I don't care about your gratitude. A girl wrapped up in gang shit is a distraction, and if she's that deep in, then you should get her to butt out."In hindsight, he told himself that he should've known taking the photograph would be trouble in itself. Now that he knew what her face looked like, who she was, and what she was connected to - it was as good as accepting the job itself. However, Arajin still held out for some miserable ray of hope that he could avoid being involved in whatever this was."Arajin-kun," Jin-sensei said, plucking the photograph from his hand with ease, "Did you know that during the summer of 2019, three then-junior high boys were hospitalized with life-threatening injuries?"Arajin forced his body not to react immediately, moving forward with light strides to put as much distance between them as possible. He kept his eyes ahead, tightening the hold on his uniform."I thought you would be interested, seeing as the victim was a student here, a friend of yours if I recall correctly… Now, what was his name?"
Don't stop. Don't turn around. Don't listen to him.
"Ah yes, Asamine Mata—"His footsteps came to a halt as he whirled around to face him, glaring at the pink eyes that almost seemed to glow with satisfaction beneath the multi-colored scarves. "Are we done here?""Quite," Jin-sensei hummed, tilting his head as if to view Arajin's face from a better angle. Like he wanted to capture the moment in all of its glory, "And do reach out to me when once you’re settled, won't you? It would be nice to catch up on everything that's happened in these last five years. Give my regards to Yayako-san.”Arajin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, torn between lunging across the distance between them or turning tail. He squeezed his eyes shut as he turned away, stomach grumbling with warning and fists itching like mad to sink into something. His footsteps were terribly loud, or perhaps it was the blood pounding in his ears as Jin-sensei called after him, "See you tomorrow."Every step Arajin took from Ichizu High was a blessed one. It felt as if everything in him was coming unwound, a spool of thread being dragged out inch by inch until all that was left was the barest part of him. The part that was at best - irritated - and at worst, enraged. He didn't know when it started but his footsteps pounded against the asphalt, arms swinging violently enough that the package holding his uniform might have flown aside if he wasn't careful. A waspish grr thrummed against the back of his teeth as he glared at the offending package, gripping it tight enough to wrinkle the cloth within. It would be easy to fling it in the garbage, talk to his mother about transferring schools, and put this farce behind him.True, it would come off strange if he left before the first day but he was no stranger to running away. This was more than he thought it would be, and there was no way he would let the likes of him trap him in a war between kids who didn't outgrow pretending all of this shit mattered.Even from a distance, Arajin felt the surety in Jin-sensei's countenance. The way he simply knew that Arajin would be there tomorrow and wouldn't be able to help himself from canvasing the student body to find his beloved daughter, and get everything he could out of her. All because he spoke that name.Mata—"Oi, Matakara!"The shout snapped Arajin out of his thoughts completely as dread washed over him, cold and biting. Winter came to freeze every organ in his body until even the blood rushing hotly from the provocation he endured turned to ice. Arajin turned around in time to catch a hint of blue and violet before he hurled himself into a nearby alleyway. A sleeping cat perched atop of an over-flowing trashcan whose lid was barely hanging on by the top of the utmost bulging bag, startled when Arajin came rushing past. It yowled loudly, batting at him as he quickly pinwheeled into a backward step to avoid its claws. Arajin blew out a sigh, grimacing as something wet soaked his heel. He looked down, lifting his foot to examine the dripping mixture of sewage and rainwater coating the cloth slipper.
As if this day couldn't get any worse…
Footsteps approached the opening of the alleyway, and Arajin glanced around at the walls of the adjacent buildings in desperation. He bit into one end of the dusty plastic packaging before taking a running start at one of the walls. His foot landed atop of the bulging trash bags, sinking for a mere second before he kicked off and latched a clawed grip onto one of the steel pipes running along the building's side. His body dangled for a moment as he scrambled to catch his heels on something, heart beating madly at the deafening thud of footfalls and approaching voices."Let's hit up the convenience store," the voice from earlier suggested.Another chimed in, nearly as bubbly as his mother's as the speaker cooed, "Oooh, you buyin' Zabu?""Hah?" The first voice — Zabu — spat, a razor sharp annoyance tacked to the already serrated edge of his voice. "Hell no, get your own shit, Komao.""Stingy," the perky Komao whined.There was a lull in silence and Arajin hoped that the noise he was making from hauling himself up onto the creaking pipe didn't alert them. He scrambled against the wall, searching for cracks and divots to hook his fingers before hauling himself up higher. It felt like being a lizard or a bug searching for a hiding place before being chucked out into the streets. If not for the bag caught between his teeth, they might have ground to dust from the frustration of it all.Once his head breached over the top of the building, Arajin pulled himself up over the side and tumbled onto the roof with gasping breaths. Doing this much physical exercise on such short notice and with so little sleep was going to kill him one of these days, but he couldn't take the risk either. Voices floated up from down below, seemingly right outside the building whose rooftop he took refuge on. Arajin pulled himself up into a half-sitting position, taking a few steadying breaths before turning over to hand and knee.A potted plant nestled in the corner of the rooftop had long-since outgrown its pot, leaves and roots spilling over the pot's wide mouth to coat the ground beneath it in heaps of soil and browning petals. Kneeling beside it with the package resting on his lap, Arajin peered through the leaves and tilted his head somewhat to get a better view of the ground below. For the most part, he could only see the top of three heads — one, a shocking electric blue. Another, golden-blond and braided with colorful ribbons into what seemed like pigtails. Then another, one Arajin would have known anywhere.His mouth fell open and he clapped a hand to his mouth to keep the name from rushing out of his lips. It sat there on his tongue with the heaviness of five years behind it, and yet he couldn't believe it at all. Instead of a mop of thick reddish-brown hair, it was short and styled in an up-do reminiscent of cresting waves. The ends curled, no longer like a duck's feathers, but the gentle turn of the tide before it receded. It still looked soft to the touch, shimmering in the afternoon sunlight as though inviting Arajin to slip his fingers through and comb it any way he desired.
Is that really… Matakara?
"He's still glued to his phone," Zabu grumbled irritably, hunched over slightly with his head inclined as though he could peek at the brown-haired teen's face better.Arajin peeled his hand from his mouth, resting it on one of the plant's branches as he looked closer. The teen was engrossed in something on his phone but Arajin couldn't see what it was from where he knelt. It was as though he was lost in his own world though, the cool light from his phone's screen reflecting on his face.Komao crossed his arms behind his head, hip jutted out and foot tapping on the pavement. "Think he's waiting on another call?""Beats me," Zabu mumbled, rifling for something in his pocket before drawing his hand out.Arajin's heart leapt when he saw Zabu cock his arm back and lob something at the brown-haired teen. His muscles jolted with the urge to leap down from the building and grab it before it could nail the boy in the head. Though before he could even think to move, the object was caught neatly in the boy's hand without him raising his eyes from his phone. Arajin's mouth fell open as the boy turned his hand over and lowered his palm, revealing to both of them that the thrown object was… a lighter."I don't smoke, Zabu," the teen said, finally lifting his head away from the phone to look between the two staring at him with confusion. "Oh, did I miss something you guys were saying again?"Zabu clenched his fist tightly, stepping forward with agitation pouring off him in waves. "If you got off your phone for one damn minute today, you'd hear everything we're saying!"With the way he puffed up, and the brightness of his hair, Arajin couldn't help but think of the hedgehog that he saw earlier in the school's graffiti. His eyes drifted back to the boy who was rubbing the back of his bowed head, likely sheepishly and heavy with remorse at having caused such trouble at all."Sorry about that…"From the looks on Komao and Zabu's faces, they more or less expected it. Arajin couldn't help the fond twitch of his lips either."This was like the tenth time today, Matakara," Komao chimed in, cutting off Zabu whose creased brow smoothed out at the change in topic. "Even Ken-san noticed you were distracted during the meet-up. Something going on at the bathhouse?"The boy — Matakara — shook his head, "No, no… I'm just expecting a call from someone today." He looked down at his phone wistfully, and Arajin winced in guilt as he continued. "It's getting late, so I'm a little worried.""Your brother?" Zabu asked, the edges of his voice softening as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, seemingly unable to keep still.A somber mood settled over the three, and Arajin puzzled over what Mitsukuni could have to do with things. It'd been five years, perhaps he'd gone on to university. A heavy knot settled in the pit of Arajin's stomach at the thought. He didn't have any intention of visiting the Asamine Bathhouse even if it was the only other place on the block where he could take a bath without waiting on his mother to get out. Not to mention the years he'd spent running in and out of its halls, with Matakara and Mitsukuni.There were too many ghosts lingering about, but the idea that one was so close at hand and the other so far was strangely bittersweet.Matakara shook his head. "No, I talked to him yesterday," he said, and Zabu's hunched posture straightened somewhat as though the weight of his words had been lifted with Matakara's absolution. "It's from a friend…"Arajin shuffled back, hanging his head as nervousness buzzed within his body and gradually spread out until his entire body felt like a live nerve."Oh," Komao sighed, and Arajin could hear the smile in his voice. "Y'mean that guy you were writing letters to?""Letters?" Zabu scoffed. "Ah, you mean that waste of paper.""Zabu," Komao scolded."What? It's not like he ever got a response anyway.""Still, you don't gotta be—" Komao continued, ready to leap to Matakara's and thusly Arajin's defense. Sinking his head into his hand, Arajin almost wished Komao wouldn't. It wasn't as if Zabu was wrong though the implication behind Matakara's feelings being a waste of time made Arajin want to punch Zabu in the mouth.How am I supposed to be protecting him when I'm the one who's been dodging him all this time? Pathe— "Even if he doesn't call, I know he's here somewhere."Arajin's heart leapt at the quiet confidence exuded in each word. He looked up slowly, peeking through the leaves again to see Matakara holding his phone against his chest. He'd finally lifted his head enough to look his friends in the eyes and the expression on his face must have been bewildering to Zabu and Komao, for the two exchange a glance without uttering a word and looked back in awe."Huh?" Zabu exclaimed at the same time that Komao hooked an arm around his shoulders and asked, "Whaddya mean?"Matakara disregarded their questions with another head shake before tipping his chin back."I can feel it."Arajin's eyes widened at the sight. Like a flame, passion burned within blue eyes as guileless and open as the boy they'd once belong to. Matakara outgrew the softness of childhood, a definition to his jawline and the height of his cheekbones. Those teary round eyes he'd spent countless days drying held a keenness to them now, and the depths of them were endless. It was like staring into the sky, hues of warmth and hope dashing away the heaviness on Arajin's shoulders.He felt his body moving forward without his consent but he was helpless to stop it for a moment, resting his hand on the gritty railing separating him from leaping down into Matakara's sky.
Mata—
RRRIPPP!
Arajin staggered backwards, alarmed by the tearing sound and how quickly he'd come to giving himself away. He looked down, grimacing at the plastic caught on the branch he'd been leaning against. His uniform was now exposed to the elements and hints of dirt was gathering on the coat's collar."What was that?" Komao cried out."A cat?" Zabu offered, and Arajin's cheeks burned as he gathered up his opened uniform and crawled out from his hiding place. The voices below went ignored and he dared not risk looking over his shoulder to see Matakara. Everything, all of it, started with him. The more space put between them, the faster he could get these thoughts out of his head.Sweat beaded Arajin's brow as he charged into the evening haze. Streetlights flickered one by one, like fires lighting against his heels to tell him to run faster. To go further, or else the darkness would swallow him whole and leave nothing left. He stumbled onto the rooftop to the empty shop next door to the restaurant, and kicked down the fire-escape ladder to climb down. It only fell halfway, leaving him to jump down the rest with his bruised feet taking the impact of the shock shooting up his legs. He panted as he walked around the shop, a streetlamp buzzing with flies as it turned on right over his head.In the pale light, the disheveled state of his pants and the scratches on his feet from running for so long seemed worse than what they'd felt. He squinted against the pain and glared at the offending uniform in his arms, clutching it tightly between quivering hands.Once the shaking subsided, he looked up to the warmly-lit window of Chu Chu and squared his shoulders. His feet dragged with each step, fingers fitting in the opening of the door before pushing it open. A rush of warmth greeted him with the tantalizing, savory scent of chicken cooked in vegetables and spices, and the headiness of beer being passed around from glass to frothing glass. In the midst of all the bluster, people crowded the tables and the bar with faces Arajin could recognize only after peering past the added number of wrinkles or differences in hair cuts and clothing.So much could change about someone in so little time it seemed.He slid the door shut behind him, spying the image of his mother in the kitchen as he made for the stairs. Under the lights, her sweat-streaked brow was unmistakable but there was a pride glimmering in her eyes as she cooked without pause. In the gloom of the hallway, Arajin watched her transfixedly and the ache in his stomach returned."Oh, Arajin's back!" Someone shouted behind him, and Arajin's shoulders twitched as the presence of countless eyes found their way to him even behind the walls of his childhood home.His mother lifted her head and stared at him for a moment, recognition turning to affection. "Welcome home, Arachii—?!"Arajin rushed up the stairs, footsteps following the pounding of his heartbeat as he threw open the door to his bedroom then shut it firmly behind him. Once the door locked and the package holding his uniform fell to the ground, strength bled out of his body as he sank down to the floor. It was cool, awaiting him as the darkness of his room threatened to swallow him up. Scant glimmers of pale moonlight, and the brighter fluorescence of the street lamps peeked through the slats of his blinds but it was too far to reach him where he curled up by the doorway.What was happening today?
Jin Mahoro. Ken-san. Zabu. Komao. And now, was that… Matakara?
A part of him told him that he didn't want anything to do with any of this. It would unravel the plan he'd made for himself to put these things behind, to cut ties with it all, to start over new. He would be the son that his mother needed, the one that he cruelly took from her for five years. One who could use his words and his wits rather than his fists, and wouldn't bring her any reason to worry that he would end up behind bars for the rest of his life.But how was he supposed to do that with the past sitting so close at hand?His heart trembled when he recalled the three boys — Zabu, Komao, and Matakara. The blue and white armbands they wore bore a wave pattern, or was it a tidal wave? If anything, it meant something which meant…Was Matakara in a gang too?Arajin clutched the sides of his head, trying to will away the thought. He'd grown up on these streets with Matakara and they were both smarter than to get involved in something that would potentially end up with them imprisoned or worse. It was already enough to be from the inner part of Honki City, but they were the ones who would never get out. The ones who would be the scum under everyone else's shoes if the world had its way.
What are you doing, Matakara?
Arajin pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, pain twinging. The fleshy pink circles dancing across his eyelids reminded him of Jin-sensei's eyes, and the ones of his daughter. Was that girl the key to everything? How was he going to extricate her from a gang that she chose to be in?
Why does it even matter? He's her father, he should just get her ass himself if he wants to.
Arajin pressed his palms to his temples, squeezing hard as if the added pressure to his head would yield some answer he hadn't yet found. For a long, horrible moment, nothing came but the sound of his mother knocking and her quiet utterance of his name."Arajin?"From beyond the door, he could smell her fortune bang-bang chicken, and his stomach gave a hearty wail that he dutifully ignored."Just leave the dishes, kaa-chan. I'll clean them…" He promised, the added apologies for not being able to pull himself together enough to enjoy a dinner with her went unsaid. He was sure that she heard them anyway, because her footsteps didn't leave the door immediately. Instead, her voice came from somewhere lower as if she was speaking right next to his ear albeit muffled by the door between them.His heart pounded restlessly, bleeding at the thought of his mother kneeling on the floor for a chance to talk to him a little closer."Aka-chan, are you sure—""I'm fine," Arajin managed to choke out in a gasp, unable to bear it when she called him by that nickname. He wasn't a baby anymore. If she'd known everything she wouldn't think to treat him like one either. Arajin drew in a shaky inhale, careful not to let his mother hear the rattling of the child locked within the cage in his chest, begging to be freed. Once he could breathe without his voice cracking, he said, "I'm alright, kaa-chan. Just give me a minute. Okay?"Silence draped over them in a heavy veil, and Arajin prayed that she would let it go."Okay," she finally said, kind but sad in a way that made his heart break in two.
I'm already disappointing her and I haven't been home for more than a day.
Arajin held his breath as he listened for the sound of her receding footsteps until they faded into the noisy clamor from downstairs. His head sunk down between his knees where he whispered apologies to the floor, hugging his legs tighter to keep the child weeping within his chest from crawling his way out."Sorry, Ara-chan…"The apology pulled Arajin out of his trance as he'd given up for the moment in his attempt to tie the thick strip of bandages into a semblance of a bow. He blinked slowly, the sound of birds twittering at one another from their nest in the curves of the roof overhead lulled him into a state of calm. One he hadn't sure existed with how much rage twisted in his heart and soul, still untethered from one another as he warred with running back into the fray and staying put. Deep down though, he knew leaving wasn't an option as his thumbs brushed against the smooth skin of a peach-colored palm.Gently, the hand resting in his was guided to settle on his thigh as he peered up from under his eyelashes at the weepy boy in front of him. Matakara looked worse for wear, despite the sudden scrape they'd gotten into. It was as if his entire world was crashing down, and he refused to meet Arajin's eyes, though his own were big and glazed with tears. Some had already fallen, tracking silver on his scarlet red cheeks.The freckles dotting along the curves of his nose trembled with each shaky inhale, and sniffle as he tried to hide a sob by choking it down. Patience wasn't Arajin's strong suit but he swore to try for Matakara, especially when he was broken up like this. But once a whimper floated up to Arajin's ear, the dam broke and he blurted out, "What're you apologizing for?"Matakara flinched, and the hand in Arajin's twitched as though the other boy wanted to pull away from him. He paused and glanced down at Matakara's fingers. The dirt caked beneath his nails turned them into a sickly shade of dark green, while his fair skin blotched with red-rimmed scratches and rapidly bruising knuckles. The corner of his lips twitched when he tapped Matakara's thumb with his forefinger, and received no feedback at all. Not even a single wince.
Good, he's not tucking his thumb when he throws a punch anymore.
His happiness was short-lived when Matakara jerked his head up, hair bouncing with the sudden movement and nose twitching as a tear rolled down his cheek."B-Because of me you got hurt," Matakara choked out around a sob that made Arajin's chest tighten. "If I wasn't weak, you wouldn't have to come and save me, and then—"Arajin tucked his forefinger against his thumb, making a circle while the other three were pointed straight to the sky. With as much strength as he could muster, he pressed his finger down before releasing it against Matakara's fluffy bangs. The boy let out a pained ow and snatched his hand out of Arajin's to grasp at his forehead. His eyes widened, dampened with a fresh curtain of tears and holding the obvious question as to why rather than any real upset. Pulling his lips to one side, and scrunching up his face at the distaste of it all, Arajin sighed inwardly.Matakara was too nice for his own good."C'mon, Mata. You're not stupid, dummy," Arajin pulled back his hand to watch the turning gears on Matakara's face as he tried to make heads or tails of the reversed insult. "Even if you were strong, I'd come for you when you're in trouble."It should have been obvious but Arajin could chalk it up to Matakara accidentally falling during the fight and hitting his head. Not to mention that asshole who kicked him when he wasn't even on his feet. Arajin swept his fingers through Matakara's hair, gently brushing it away from his eyes and the point of impact. His warm, peach-toned skin tinged purple in the spot where one of the rocks hit him but it was easily hidden beneath his fluffy bangs.Arajin pursed his lips together, and turned around while holding Matakara's hair away from his face. A white first-aid kit sat behind him with a pile of opened bandages, wet wipes, and a bottle of ointment rolled up at the end to where the ridges at the bottom were almost kissing the cap. He scooped it up, undoing the top with his teeth then spatting it into the overgrown grass. The cool gel flowed out onto his fingertips and he rubbed them together to warm it before blotting his finger around the bruise.Matakara watched him as he worked, eyes big and round while his lips pressed together tightly as though he were stifling another sob. Arajin opened his mouth to tell him that it was alright if he cried but decided against it. Seeing Matakara cry was… unsettling, and if it were up to him, he'd have kicked those jerks harder for it.When his hand withdrew, he wiped the rest of the gel off on his shorts before ruffling Matakara's hair."All better?" Arajin asked, lips quirking in a grin.Matakara's eyes wavered, lids falling half-mast as he leaned his head against Arajin's hand. "Uh-huh…"The touch lingered for a moment as Arajin checked over Matakara's forehead again then pulled away once he was sure there wouldn't be any lasting damage. Explaining why they were dirty and roughed up from just being outside would already be hard enough once Matakara's aunt and uncle started asking."But—" Matakara started, and Arajin could practically hear everything behind that word."No buts," he told Matakara, giving him a firm glare when the boy opened his mouth again seemingly to argue. "You and me are a team. If you fight, I fight. If I win, you win…"Hands twinged with pain wrapped around Matakara's shoulders and hauled him up to sit taller so their eyes could properly meet. Arajin huffed, a small smile curling up at the corner of his lips when Matakara's eyes began to sparkle. "It's the two of us against the world world, Mata, and not even a bunch of sissy middle-schoolers can stop us."Arajin grinned, giving Matakara's shoulders a squeeze. "So don't worry, 'kay?"For a moment, Matakara didn't say anything. Arajin's brow furrowed, as he wondered where his friend might have gotten lost in the midst of his explanation or if any of it made any sense to him at all. Then, with a subtle determination cemented in his voice Matakara said, "Ara-chan."A hand clasped over one of Arajin's squeezing with an impressive amount of strength as it was pulled away, gently but purposefully it seemed as Matakara had yet to let go.Blue eyes suffused with warmth, and Arajin's heart pounded when their clasped hands pushed up against Matakara's chest."Let's be together forever."This time, it was Arajin's turn to stammer, "H-Huh?""You're really fast, and you're really strong. I-I'm not yet, but.. but if we're together forever and ever, I promise I'll be too. I'll get stronger, and I'll be fast enough to keep up with you. Then when Ara-chan is in danger, I'll come and save you."Arajin's stomach fluttered at the heaping compliments, but also the starriness in Matakara's eyes. If his gaze was the sky when it was approaching dawn, and the stars were beginning to putter out one by one, then Arajin hoped the sun would never rise. If only so he could keep Matakara looking like this, so sure of himself and warm. Tingling warmth rippled from Arajin's chest to every corner of his body, and he found it much harder to keep still.The little circles Matakara was drawing on the back of Arajin's dirt-streaked palm smeared the black earth in swirling circles and haphazard lines. It was as though they were untethered together, and only able to hold on by keeping a grasp of one another. The lines would be a map to lead him back to Matakara, and in that way too, Matakara would always know where he was and be waiting for him. Arajin shifted slightly, feeling the jabbing ache in his thighs and his arms melt away when the space between them steadily closed until auburn brown mingled with black, and blue filled his entire world. ."So, Ara-chan…" Matakara whispered, the warmth of his breath making Arajin shiver with anticipation as he trailed off for a second before adding with a squeeze of Arajin's fingers, "Do you promise?"Arajin's fingers twitched involuntarily as he searched for the words but his mind was drawing a blank. He could have drifted into Matakara's eyes and stayed there until he found the words to answer him. Their teacher always said Arajin's ideas were the result of daydreaming, and he hadn't had a bad one yet. So if he thought long and hard about what forever would look like, did that mean Matakara would be with him every day?
That wouldn't be bad.
Matakara smiled in that shy, squirming way he seldom did when he was nervous about something and Arajin knew he had precious little time to answer before Matakara retreated entirely.Arajin's lips parted as he breathed out a soft, "I…"A chiming melody, bell-like in its slow and repeated tolls, overshadowed the words falling from Arajin's lips. He couldn't hear them himself though he knew his mouth was moving and saying something. It had to have been because Matakara smiled; his eyes mesmerizing and so blue that Arajin couldn't tell whether they were from the sky or sea. The birds and the insects buzzing in the grass began to fade, as does the warmth of the summer sun pelting down upon his head and the shrine looms over them. But Matakara is there, and Arajin clings to him tightly, buries himself into the blue of the boy he couldn't let disappear into the dusky gloam.Matakara doesn't retreat for him, making good on the promise he stated by wrapping his arms around Arajin as well. He leaned into Arajin's embrace, tucking himself in the crevices where Arajin feels bruised — broken — beloved.And so cold—Arajin strained not to close his eyes, not wanting to lose sight of Matakara for a second, fearing that he would vanish if he took his eyes off him. His fingers twisted in the boy's shirt, pulling it taut against his back to anchor himself as the ground threatens to swallow him whole. The urge to throw Matakara away from him, to spare him from sinking with him, lingers within his trembling fingers but he hesitates up until the moment the cold wraps around his ankles and pulls.His hands unhinge from Matakara's back, lying flat against his arms though there is too little space between them for him to do so without dislodging Matakara from his neck and shoulder. His heart screams as he roughly shoved the boy away from him, watching him hurtle down the stairs and into what was left of the grass. The cold rises, wrapping its long fingers around Arajin's neck in a vice, but he kept his gaze on Matakara. Blue eyes, wide with fear and an outstretched hand beckoning for him to follow him to safety. A rattling sound caught Arajin's attention, the moan of creaking wood alerting him to the shrine's wooden door that was partially open."Ara-chan!"He turned back in time to glimpse Matakara before the cold snapped its jaws around him, and he couldn't help but smile.
I'm glad you're safe...
"Mata…"Sound filtered in over Arajin's sigh; cheery melodious chimes joined with the steady hum of vibrations pressed against his thigh. A throbbing pain ricocheted between his ears as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, groaning with pain and slight nausea. Dizzying weariness pulled him off into a swaying dance as he fought to keep himself upright but ultimately lost, resting his head against something solid. Labored breathing swallowed up by the dulcet bells soured the pit of his stomach and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from retching.
That old dream again.
His eyes peeled open, winced then shut again when the bright light coming through his windows threatened to blind him. Once the initial sting waned, Arajin opened his eyes slowly to adjust them to the onslaught of light. When they adjusted, he found himself sitting on the floor in front of his doorway with his head pressed against the wooden door. Aches and stiffness in his joints from sleeping on the floor aside, his stomach rumbled with the desire to eat after being denied food from the night before. Arajin brushed his hand against his shirt then glanced over his shoulder, frowning at the crudely-opened package.
Ichizu High…
Arajin pressed his fists to the floor to turn himself around while seated, scooting closer to the package. He leaned in, examining the damage done with the dirt-speckled collar and the spots where the fabric pulled from constant tugs. Hesitantly, his fingers brushed against the collar before he patted and swept the dirt away from it. Uniforms were expensive as it is and despite his feelings, he had to take care of this one by any means necessary. It would be his armor, and his shield for the next few years.Because starting today, I'm a high-school student… When the collar was clean enough, Arajin scooped up the package and climbed to his feet. He tore the plastic off piece by piece, tossing it into the trash can beneath his window sill before holding up the black uniform jacket for a better look. He tilted his head one way, then the other, watching as the emerging dawn's light tinged the black threads in pale blues. It rippled across the hanging sleeves like water, stones skipped across an endless black lake, only to disappear once the momentum could no longer keep it afloat.His mind drifted back to the dream, hand wrapping around his throat with a brush of a thumb against his pulse point.
A high school student who knows no one, who is no one.
Looking up to the window, Arajin adjusted the curtains then undid the latch to push it open. As though awaiting an invitation, the cool wind from outdoors exchanged greetings with the stifling warmth within Arajin's bedroom and swept past him like a revolving door. His hair swayed to and fro, eyelids fluttering as he tipped his chin up to let the breeze gently kiss the tip of his nose. He rubbed the heel of his hand against the dry patches clinging to the dips of his mouth and beneath his eyes, startling when the ones trailing beneath his eyelashes crusted against his skin.
Was I crying in my sleep?
For a small moment, he imagined Matakara's hands framing his face. The little boy with a smile like the sun and cried as easily as it rained attempting to cheer him up by offering him what comfort he felt he could give. Arajin laid his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sky's deepening blue, his chest twisting and tightening. Coming back to this city was bad luck. Out of everyone, why did it have to be Matakara attending his high school and Jin-sensei being its principal?
What does he know about you that I don't?
His fingers slid down his face, catching on his bottom lip then falling to rest at his side as he turned away from the window. Shadows casted over the room as they fled behind and around the dormant furniture to escape the light. A sweeping looked around the room with blasé examination revealed what Arajin felt had been true the day before. While this had been his room, it felt as though someone else was living there. A person from another life, one who made their home but had yet to return to it.His attention fell to his desk, heart stuttering in tis beat when he noticed a handkerchief folded end over end draped over something seated upon a little blue cushion. Everything in him said not to approach it but he wandered toward it anyway, tossing his uniform atop his made-up bed in favor of reaching with shaky fingers for the cushion's golden tassels.
Is that…?
His fingernail skimmed the handkerchief, tucking gently underneath to lift it up when his alarm gave a blaring screech. Arajin snatched his hand back, digging into his pocket for his cellphone to silence the alarm before it could wake the entire neighborhood. Once blessed silence return, Arajin blew out a sigh and stowed his phone in his pocket again. He spared another glance at the uniform sprawled atop his blanket, then turned to the handkerchief before shaking his head."What am I doing?" Arajin sighed, going to search his backpack. After rooting around for a bit, he pulled out a see-through toiletries bag with a hanging price tag. He snatched it off and crumpled it in his fist before tossing it in the trash.Gotta buy a normal-sized toothbrush and toothpaste, Arajin thought as he walked to the doorway. The door knob turned and opened with a soft click, one foot sliding in front of the other until his toe connected with something solid. His breath hitched, gaze falling to a bowl sitting in front of the door on a serving platter. Regret lanced through Arajin's chest and he wheezed a breath as he knelt down to uncover the top of the bowl.Underneath, what once was crispy golden brown chicken had paled into a shade of its former glory. The panko-crusted skin sunk a tad bit beneath a poke from his chopsticks, and the parsley leaves lost their dewy sheen. Arajin sighed, covering the dish before gathering the tray and making his way downstairs. The hallways' shadows followed his footsteps as the morning sun chased them across the wooden floorboards, and walls filled with photos Arajin hadn't seen in years. His stride faltered when he noticed pictures of himself as a child were the most populated, heartbeat quickening as his cheeks reddened.Photos of him from the time he was an infant to early adolescence spread out in an almost exact timeline. There were fewer lacking his presence than not, and Arajin thought to cut away his eyes until another photo stole his breath away. He blinked slowly, stepping closer with the stair creaking under his heels. Behind the glass frame, he and Matakara stood with their arms thrown around one another and knees dusted from a tussle in the grass - one of which had no winner, as he recalled - posed with similar signs of victory and wide grins. Behind them knelt a man with long dark hair tied off into a ponytail draped over his shoulder. While the entirety of him was unable to make it fully into the frame, the lower half of his smiling, stubbled face was visible.He held both boys close to his sides with an arm thrown around them, and a victory sign of his own in the form of a finger-heart."Love and peace," Arajin murmured. The words roll off his tongue smoothly, and he tucked the tip of it against the inside of his cheek to gauge their taste. It rings hollow in a voice unlike the smooth, richness of a baritone seared within his memory. There's an absence of laughter and gentleness or the fond tousle of his hair before he's reminded to abstain from throwing his weight around. His hands were meant for helping, not hurting.Or at least that's what his father believed.Looking down the staircase, the sliding door was left ajar and Arajin's eyebrows ticked upward at the faint glow coming from the kitchen.
Did she leave the light on?
He tucked the tray close to him, taking the steps one at a time until the clatter of dishes and running water tinkling against the inside of the deep sink becomes recognizable. Arajin stepped through the opening in the doorway, careful not to bump against it and push the wooden door any wider than it was. Careful maneuvering over the floorboards that creaked brought him to the wall beside the kitchen's open doorway, and his back pressed against it as he steadied himself to peek inside. A glance over his shoulder, then a tilt of his head allowed him a closer view of the kitchen and the one therein.Arajin swallowed thickly at the sight of his mother, wrist-deep in a sink filled with soapy water. Her hair undone and falling in her face as she washed and set aside plates and bowls, taking extra care to clean between the spokes of forks and the grooves of knives almost mechanically. He shifted in embarrassment, recalling his earlier promise and bravado in taking on part of the housekeeping chores alongside her. That she had to get up so early to do it herself was just another sign of how much he'd failed; but something else just seemed wrong.The sullen silence settled around her like a worn overcoat, and without the cheerful vigor she emanated or the perpetual sweet smile plastered on her lips, she seemed like an entirely different person. He vaguely recalled this though, the way his mother would withdraw within herself and do the best she could to provide something at the very least. Whether it was a meal for her family, or clean dishes and laundry for them to use, or poking the tip of his nose to excuse him from worrying about her because she'd never take. Only give, only ever give.Arajin slipped into the kitchen, swift and silent. His mother doesn't notice him when he sets the serving tray on the counter and swears with everything in himself that he'll eat every last bite. She doesn't notice him when he pads up behind her, and hesitates before reaching out to wrap his arms around her waist. The touch jolts her out of whatever trance she was in, and he does catch a glimpse of her head turning in his direction as he leans his forehead against her shoulder.When had she gotten so small?He was a little taller than her now, needing to pull his shoulders back and angle his head to rest against her with minor difficulties, but the appeal of it remained the same. His mother doesn't saying for a moment, and he feels in the slide of her shoulder blades and the shift of her back muscles that she'd gone back to cleaning."I'm sorry about the dishes, kaa-chan," Arajin whispered against the collar of her t-shirt, giving her waist a squeeze.A warm, soapy hand slides up his wrist and squeezes at his forearm before delivering a little pat. "It's alright," she sighs as her hand falls from his arm and the dampness from her touch leaves his skin feeling cooler. He shivers, hugging her tighter and pressing his forehead obstinately against her shoulder as she continues speaking, distant but the blanketing warmth he's accustomed to wrapping around him. "You needed your rest, aka-chan. Yesterday was busy for you, hm?"Arajin pressed onto his toes, nodding feebly. He wasn't sure where to begin explaining things to her or whether there was something he could even tell her. How was he to describe a proposition from his principal? Or that he suspected his childhood friend was wrapped up in a gang? Not to mention that his school was practically a war zone.He's already on edge with his mother's current state, and the idea of causing her more distress turned his stomach with painful spasms."Do you want me to warm that up for you?" His mother asked, impassive but gentle and it takes Arajin a second to remember that he'd come into the kitchen for breakfast rather than to beg for his mother's forgiveness like a sullen child.Shame burned in the curve of his ears as he unwinds his arms from her waist, feeling awkward in their placement. Stiff, for he couldn't remember the last time he'd held onto her so tightly to search for comfort. Always taking, never giving. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from closing into fists, and shrugged half-heartedly, knowing how much of a mess he must appear. When she turned around to look at him, giving him a once-over, Arajin felt disarmed and without a single shred of defense. Wearing the same rumpled street clothes from yesterday, hair disheveled from lying on the floor and without a proper brushing despite the early hour, and his tongue curled at the sour taste in his mouth.The silence grows strained, and the faucet's pouring fills the space between them. Slowly, Arajin draws himself up to full height and reaches up to fiddle with his hair until it lies in some semblance of order. "Not yet. Gotta shower…" He mumbled absentmindedly, doggedly avoiding her gaze as he started back toward the doorway. "Thanks for dinner… uh, breakfast I mean.""Arajin," His mother called out, and the firmness in the way she says his name — not Arachiin or Aka-chan or any cutesy nickname but his name — that gives him pause. His head spun, full of static as her next sentence floated to his ears in the most dreadful sentence he could hear. "What happened at school?"Memories rushed back — pink eyes, a trio wearing black and blue, lightning bolts and trash-ridden halls. The woman who curled in on herself as she shied away from the violence in a savior who'd quickly become a pariah in her eyes. Grease-stained silver and purple scum.Arajin tucked his hand against his stomach, twisting his fingers there until his skin ached with the force from his grip. "Not much," he lied, keeping his voice purposefully light. "Got my uniform and met my homeroom teacher, the principal…""Jin Masuzo."Arajin's stomach twisted, knuckles itching as he clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it firmly against his navel. "Yeah…" He tipped his head back to look over his shoulder at her, finding her staring into the sink while switching off the faucet. "How did you…""Know?" His mother asked, a hint of a laugh in her voice that's a bit too sharp around the edges to be comforting. A hand towel pulled from the loops on her apron wraps around her fingers as she set to cleaning the soap suds and dripping water. "People tend to talk, and I'm a very good listener. So if you ever want to talk, I'm right here, okay?"She flipped the hand towel onto her shoulder, then folded her arms across her chest with a slight jut of the hip. A smile hanging off her lips that doesn't seem right but also isn't wrong. Arajin knew that she was aware something happened but it was her lack of pressing that confused him. He felt off-beat, like they were dancing to a similar song but at different times and he'd missed a note. In the resulting quiet, there was something that he hadn't expected to bubble up inside of him.Despair."Kaa-chan, I…" He choked on the next word, attempting to find a way to explain. A number of reasons gather in his throat, choking and smothering one another to vie for the opportunity to be spoken. In the midst of them, he almost thought he could hear the child trapped in his chest begin to wail. He closed his ears to it yet again, nearly gags and shuts his eyes for a second too long before turning his face away. "I'm sorry for ruining the party."His mother coos, "Oh, Arajin…"The plap-plop of her slippered feet approaches him, and he succumbs to the feeling of her hands cradling his cheeks. It's too much to open his eyes just yet and he feels that if he did then he would burst into tears. Instead, he lets himself sink into the warmth of her touch and the gentleness of her voice as she soothes the knots in his stomach - carefully unwinding each one."You didn't ruin anything. It was your welcome home party. Everyone who was there hasn't seen you in years, and who knows how often they'd seen you before that. I'm sorry, it should have been a party with just the people who mattered. The ones who knew you and wanted to see you home after so long."Arajin cracked open his eyes, blinking away the dampness clinging to them. Her smile awaited him, nearly doubling in its brightness when their eyes met."So once it was closing time, I just kicked everyone out and went to watch a couple episodes of Brimple," she shrugged, eyes twinkling and smile mischievous as she winked. "No harm done."Arajin huffed, resisting from shaking his head so that he wouldn't lose her touch. The thought of his mother waiting for him to descend the steps and join the festivities weighed at the back of his mind. Yet, sleep's pull and the desire to not be anyone for a short period of time outweighed the guilt festering in his chest. His heart thumped painfully as he recalled that she hadn't been the only one who waited for him to arrive. "Did the Asamines come?" He asked hesitantly, stepping back from her hold with a slight frown.She clapped her hands together, fingers tucked against her lips. "Yukiko-obachan and Hiromichi-ojisan weren't able to close the bathhouse on such short notice, but Matakara-kun came!"Arajin's eyes widen, and he clenched his fist behind his back. "He did? By himself?""Mhm," His mother said, looking around at the countertops before gasping softly then turning around to open the cabinets beneath the sink. "But I told him you were resting so he left his gift, and headed home."
But what about his brother? Matakara said he talked to him yesterday, is he not living at the bathhouse anymore?
When she stood up, it was with a blue bag printed with silver moons and golden stars. The handle was a satin silver ribbon, soft to the touch as Arajin wrapped his fingers round to lift it out of his mother's hold. His heart pounded as he stared at the innocent-looking gift bag. What could Matakara have possibly gotten him after they had been away from each other so long? He brushed his thumb against the opening's creases, then stopped when his mother tapped her finger against the back of his hand.He glanced up at her confusedly, and she shook her head before turning him around with a firm grasp on his shoulders then wheeling him to the doorway. "You can open it in your room," she said, pushing him out of the kitchen and to the sliding door. "Hurry and get ready so you won't be late!"Arajin's lips curled into a smile as he tucked the bag to him and bowed his head in gratitude. "Alright, alright," he hesitated again, shifting awkwardly in place before leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek. A hasty "thanks, kaa-chan" nearly shouted in her face before he bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time before throwing himself into his room. The door slammed shut behind him, and Arajin slapped his palm against his forehead to mitigate the painful jump of his heart against his ribcage. Blinking a bit, he looked down at the crinkled bag hugged close to his chest and wandered over to his bed to plop down next to his uniform.He opened the top of the bag and slipped his hand in, pushing past the layers of glittering silver paper until his fingers brushed against something smooth and plastic. Pinching one end of it, Arajin pulled it out and huffed at the caricature of a kitten wearing a shark costume. Written in white, jaunty letters above the cat's head were the words Milk Paw Pad Bun and within the clear packing was a fluffy, golden bread paw in the shape of a cat's. The corner of Arajin's lips twitched as he set the bag aside to cradle the bun in his hands.How long's it been since I've had one of these?A memory, soft and fuzzy, returned at the back of his mind. Matakara crouching beside him as they counted the allowances from their jobs around the neighborhood before going to buy "supplies" for their training. Back then, the usually timid boy was a force to be reckoned with when it came to provisions and turned down anything that would put them in a bind. It was a miracle Matakara's penny-pinching ways didn't stifle him from buying a milk pad bun for him, as Arajin always craved a little sweetness when their training sessions dragged on too long.He must still have that thing for cats, Arajin thought, setting the bun atop of his uniform before peering into the bag again. He shifted the paper around until his fingers brushed against the bottom of the bag, though upon withdrawing them, something smooth with a slightly stiff texture brushed against his finger pads. He shifted the paper around until his fingers bumped against a thick sheaf of paper, and pinched one end of it before pulling it free from the gift paper's folds. A greeting card depicting an old Persian carpet flying across the night sky unbeknownst to the sleeping town beneath it settled in his hand, and he huffed as he turned the card one way then the other. The holographic stars following his gaze and the carpet's flight path accelerating or decelerating depending on where he looked.Flicking it open, Arajin's eyes softened as he stared at the blue letters printed on the white background.
There's a whole new world out there to explore!
Underneath, Matakara's scrawl nearly filled up the entirety of the white-space and Arajin's heart leapt when his gaze trickled down to the hastily scribbled series of numbers in the bottom-right corner.A phone number.Presumably, Matakara's phone number.Arajin slapped the card shut, looking from his window to the door before marching over to his bookshelf. He pulled out the plastic bag, tucking the card inside of it before zipping it shut. The card was so well-hidden amongst everything else, he could just say that he'd never seen it, right? No one would have to know that he'd completely lost his sense of reasoning at a long-winded message and a phone number from a boy he hadn't seen in years.What was Matakara thinking? Hadn't his friends already tried to knock some sense into him that there was nothing worth waiting for?
I know he's out there.
Arajin pressed his palms to his face, letting out a muffled scream.Yayako finished tying up her hair with her scarf just as a set of footsteps traveled down the staircase. She took one last look at the packed lunch wrapped up in a lamp-patterned furoshiki and smiled to herself before gathering it up in her arms."There he is!" She cried out, swinging into the open doorway with a speech of love and preparation on her lips until her eyes landed on her son's haggard face. His hollowed eyes peered out from behind the crystal clear glass lenses, drifting toward her as she raised a hand hesitantly before letting her fingers rest against his cheek. "Uwah, Arajin… are you alright?""I'm fine," Arajin sighed, the underlying 'not right now' trailing in the silence afterwards. He shouldered the towering bass case, and tucked his school bag under his opposite arm with a curious tilt of his chin toward her. "That for me?"Yayako's smile returned with a hint of indulgence as she shook her head. There was no way to reach him without infringing upon the sacred temple of a teenage boy's ego, it seemed. Keeping his stomach filled, and holding the space open seemed to be the best she could do for him. Her eyes softened as she held out the lunch to him. "Mm, here you are.""Thanks," Arajin said, taking the lunch by its twin-tailed tie before shuffling past her to wander out into the seating area.He propped his bass up against the wall, and tucked the lunch into his school bag before pushing it aside. The re-heated plate of bang bang chicken awaited him, giving off a faint wisp of steam as he sat down in front of it and dug in. Yayako stepped into the kitchen again but peered through the window overlooking the front counter, a smile on her face.Before he'd taken it, light sparked in his eyes as he stared at the packed lunch as though he couldn't restrain himself from showing some form of gratitude outside of polite platitudes. In those eyes, she saw her little boy, the one who enjoyed eating her cooking as if it were the best thing in the world. It was much harder to keep his plate full than it was for him to empty it.Once the plate was empty, and he'd said his thanks, Arajin glanced up then froze when their eyes met."What is it?" He asked, attempting to throw on a mask of indifference as his gaze cut to the right. Yayako chuckled fondly, shaking her head as she left the kitchen to gather up his plate. His hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist as she moved to lift the plate from off the tabletop. A plea lingered in his eyes as he vehemently shook his head, wrapping his fingers around the other side of the plate to pull it from her grasp. "Wait a minute, kaa-chan. I can do this."Yayako huffed, snatching the plate away from his outstretched hand. "You're going to be late if you stick around here any longer," she reminded, tapping the tip of his nose at his put-out expression. Her heart softened, eased just enough when the image of a smaller boy juxtaposed over the one sitting in front of her. The clock ticking on the wall and the boy in front of her who had grown into a young man one day, right out of her line of sight, were a cruel reminder of how fleeting time could be. It felt like only mere moments ago that he'd been laid in her arms, and she was told that she'd get to be his mom for the rest of their lives.
Arajin…
"Fine," Arajin replied gruffly, annoyance roughening the edge of his voice as he stood up and pushed his chair into the table before squaring his shoulders to hold his burdens. His head hung slightly, glasses hanging off his nose as he walked past her while grumbling, "Thanks for the breakfast, kaa-chan. See ya later."
My beautiful, sulky boy…
The plate clatters lightly against the table as she turned around and walked to the doorway, watching as Arajin pulled on his shoes. She wasn't accustomed to his haircut yet, but he'd always had such beautiful hair. It sticked up unruly at the back now, like he'd forgotten to brush it properly and there was a hint of lotion behind his right ear. Yayako giggled to herself, and Arajin peeked around his shoulder with a look of dismay at potentially being left out of another joke."Arajin," Yayako said with a soft, fond smile. "Stand up properly, aka-chan. Let me see you."He blew out a sigh in that long, exasperated way Yayako guessed teenage boys did whenever their parents were being embarrassing. She wouldn't have known. Most of her experience came from watching the boys in the neighborhood and imagining what her own son would do if he was subjected to her love and care. Would he shy away from it or fall into her like when he was a child, eager for her love and affection as much as he chafed under it?Arajin rose up to his feet and watched her in silence for a beat, his blasé expression failing to hide the curiosity in his wandering eyes. Their height difference isn't much but Yayako is faintly aware that her son might continue growing, and one day she would have to look up at him awkwardly to meet his eyes.
My baby…
She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, stretching back to catch the curled hairs at the back of his head. Her fingertips traced over the shorn undercut before pulling back to swipe the lotion from behind his ear and rub it just so against his cheek. Arajin squinted one eye shut, scrunching his nose as he tried to turn his face away from her but only succeeded in helping her smear the lotion against his jaw."Kaa-chan," Arajin protested, scrunching his nose with displeasure when Yayako plucked the glasses off his face."Just one more second," she said, raising them to peer through the lenses herself. They were clean enough but she couldn't help wondering when he started wearing glasses. It wasn't as though he'd needed them when he was a boy. Had her husband told her anything about it and she'd just forgotten?Did Arajin?"Kaa-chan…" Arajin protested again, loud enough to stop Yayako's thoughts from continuing down their spiral."Your glasses were a little crooked," she said, holding them carefully by the arms before slipping them back onto his face. The bridge fit snugly over his button nose, and it took all. Of her strength not to boop him again. Instead, her eyes fell to his jacket and as she pretended to right it on both sides while brushing invisible dirt off the collar, the red changshan caught her attention. She could feel herself tensing up, fingertips aching with the phantom pains of a sewing needle piercing through her skin and the whining of a child as she took his measurements.Her palm pressed against the center of his chest, right where the first clasp was sown. The fabric, cool and silky to the touch, had warmed from being wrapped around Arajin. It still looked pristine as it had been the first time she'd made it, and every year after when her son had grown a little more and needed it mended to fit.Please bring him good fortune, she pleaded with the bright red cloth. And keep him safe."Earth to Okaa-san!"Yayko took a deep breath to steady herself, remembering that beneath the cloth she'd sewn and hemmed with loving care was the boy it'd all been for. Her baby who came back into her arms and was now having to leave them again. Every instinct told her not to let him go and convince him to stay a bit longer but he wouldn't listen. Arajin was meant for the wider world, and now that he'd gotten a taste of it, he would eventually return to it again. The fantasy that he would stay by her side never crossed her mind. She couldn't bear to hold her son back like that, but she couldn't account that the rest of the world would treat him with as much love and care.Arajin's hand covered hers, fingers curling underneath to cradle her hand against his chest."What's up with you?" He asked, sounding so young. Tears burned at the back of her eyes as she remembered every time that voice unknowingly saved her.She swallowed them down and tipped her head up with a smile, shrugging half-heartedly. Worries and fear tumbled off her shoulders and out of sight from the young man looking down at her with concern in claret eyes searching for comfort."It's just been been awhile since I could see you off for school," she said, pulling her hands away to rummage in her apron pocket for her cellphone. When she pulled it out and waved it around, Arajin's concern turned to dread and she laughed, "Now, let's take a picture for your dad.""Kaa-chan… I'll be late," Arajin complained, shifting awkwardly while looking around as if he's attempting to find a way to escape."No you won't, no you won't," Yayako tapped the camera app open, then waved him into position in front of the door where the light would capture the slope of his shoulders and how tall he'd gotten. Her husband may have gotten to see all of these things first-hand, all the ways that their son had grown into a man, but it was her time now.And she'd take all she could get."Now say cheese!""Cheese," Arajin dryly echoed, scowling while glaring at the camera with one hand wrapped around the strap of his bass case and his school bag crushed against his side.Yayako frowned, her gaze sliding past her phone to settle on her son's actual dour expression. "Arachiiin…!" She flapped her hand beckoningly, and he sighed before coming closer to her. The small difference between him standing in the entryway and her on the raised floor made him look up to her, eyebrow raised and eyes flat. "This is your one and only high school debut y'know.""It's nothing that serious," Arajin argued, his gaze drifting and there's a distance to his eyes that makes Yayako's chest tighten. "Sides, if he wanted to be here, he would."Silence falls between them, uncomfortably loud, and echoing with the voice of someone they both dutifully ignore. Arajin sighed, seeming to want to put it away as he dismissively waved his hand and turned around."Forget it, I'm leaving now," he said, "See you la—"Yayako reached out before he could get too far away, grabbing the shoulder of his jacket to turn him around. She could hear him yelp in the whirlwind and his frustrated 'hey' but the draw to hold him close was too strong. The camera shutter closed with a snap as she pressed a kiss to his left temple, hugging him tightly to her.Once she'd had her fill, Yayako gently untangled herself from Arajin and combed his hair back into place with her fingers. Her hand cupped his flushed cheek as he peeked up at her from over his glasses, confusion heavy in his gaze as he leaned into her touch unconsciously. He didn't even seem to notice he'd done it until he blinked hard, then bolted upright and hurried out the door with a flustered goodbye.She wandered to the open doorway, peering outside at his retreating back with a bitter smile."Anata, our son will be alright, won't he?"
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I told her I was going to be late!
Arajin huffed and puffed for breath, legs pumping against the thumping of his case and school bag as he barrelled down the street. Dark hair whipped back from his face, glasses slipping from his nose precariously until he snatched them off. Thankfully the streets were nearly barren from the earlier hour and the distance from the city’s main roads; few passersby diverted their attention from their morning preparations and half-dozing walks to watch as he thundered past or staggered out of his path. He pretended not to hear the shouts to watch where he was going, or the loud whispers but they followed after him like the morning sun’s incline across the sky. His heel screeched against the pavement as he took a hard left turn to avoid crashing into the pedestrian traffic sign. An old man leant against the traffic pole, blocking the button as he snoozed away with his hat pulled down over his eyes. Arajin cursed under his breath, looking around before taking off at a breakneck pace down the opposite road. Behind him, the sign’s mechanical voice called out cheerfully, “Please be careful as you cross and pay attention to changes in your surroundings!” Easier said than done , Arajin thought as he swung himself around the corner and nearly tumbled into the path of a woman walking her dog. She yelped and pulled at the dog’s leash as it began snapping at him, attempting to hush it while Arajin scrambled to his feet then dropped into a slight bow. It didn’t take long for the woman to accept his apology and excuse them both with an awkward, blithe congratulations for his entrance into high school. After accepting her peace offer and seeing them both on their way, he drew out his cellphone and grimaced once the screen lit up.8:53AM shone in big, bold red numbers and a click sounded as his phone locked again revealing his disgruntled look upon the black mirrored screen.
I’m only eight minutes late, but if I run the rest of the way I probably won’t get there until after nine. And classes already started…
Cars rumbled past the street corner he stood on as he mulled over what to do. Making a break for it wouldn’t be a bad idea but it would be tiresome with how much he was carrying. Not to mention the added stress of having to be the “new kid”. Arajin bit down on his cheek, tucking his glasses into his jacket pocket.
No time to waste, I’ll just have to gun it.
He took a small step forward, one hand clutched around the strap of his case while the other plastered his school bag to his side. The traffic light changed, showing the red hand of despair and the tension melted out of his heels to join the buttery sunlight seeping into the crevices of the pavement. Arajin let out a sigh, glancing down until a car rolled to a stop in front of him. His eyebrows raised as he lifted his head at the jaunty shout, “Missed ya at the party last night, Arajin-kun!”Arajin stiffened up, tilting his head up to the sight of a taxi parked closer to the side-walk. When the tinted window rolled down, the sweaty scarlet-cheeked face of Heiwajima peered out from behind it. “Heiwajima-san,” Arajin muttered, confusion lilting his voice at the last syllable as he looked both ways down the street in wonder of where the old man had come from. It wasn’t as though he expected to see him again so soon but the mention of his mother’s welcome home party reminded him of the ride from yesterday, and it took a great deal of effort to keep his lips from twisting into a sneer. On the other hand, Heiwajima smile could have put the sun to shame. He almost leant out of the car to give Arajin a once-over, whistling low with an appreciative note that made Arajin’s skin crawl. “Where ya headed?” Heiwajima asked, finally letting his eyes return to Arajin’s face where he met his gaze with a quirk of the brow. Arajin pulled his shoulders back and stood taller underneath the scrutiny, reminding himself that he was supposed to be somewhere and this could be his ticket to a faster track. While it meant putting up with Heiwajima, and his strange interest in his mother, so be it. Reluctantly, he answered, “School, think you can drop me off there?”“Eh?” Heiwajima stammered, gaze leaping between Arajin’s belongings to his face in utter disbelief. “ This early?”“It’s an emergency,” Arajin pressed, stepping forward to the car’s side. He laid a hand on the window’s rubber seal and leaned down, dropping his voice to a whisper with a showy glance over his shoulders. “I told kaa-chan I would be alright getting there on my own, but I’m running later than I thought. If you could help me out just this once, I really don’t want to disappoint her.”His stomach twisted with revulsion at the deepening scarlet hue to Heiwajima’s cheeks at the mention of his mom, and the way the man rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “A-Ah, I get you but that area’s a little…” He trailed off, drifting his eyes away from Arajin to the interior of the car as though he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Arajin hid his smirk with a little press to the inside of his cheek before stirring his best pleading voice, widening his eyes and tipping his head just so. A glance at himself in the rearview mirror was the picture-perfect example of obedience, or at the very least a helpless boy. His stomach roiled in disgust, but he swallowed the hint of bile to keep it from tainting a pristine lie. “Even nearby is fine. There’s a store up the street, I’ll get out there if it feels safer for you.”Heiwajima made a muddled gurgling, growling sound until his shoulders sagged and his head thumped back against the chair’s rest. “Alright,” he sighed, jutting a thumb toward the back seat to Arajin’s delight. “Hop in.”He drew back, cheerfully thanking him as he opened up the taxi’s back seat and settled his bass case inside before pushing his school bag in as well. Heiwajima grumbled something about being a good guy and giving out freebies for the youth, and Arajin rolled his eyes. He slid onto the black leather seats and shut the door behind him, folding his arms across his chest after his seatbelt was buckled. It wasn’t as though Heiwajima was doing this for him but he didn’t want the old geezer’s favor anyway. So long as he made it to school with some time left to explain himself for his tardiness, and Heiwajima kept his hands off his mom, then all would be right in the world. Arajin leant his head against the cool glass window, watching the path of a jet stream as it shot across the sky leaving the tailwind of white streaks to mark its path. Heiwajima pulled the car away from the sidewalk and started down the street, the engine rumbling with a purr as the world began to drift by faster. Yet, in Arajin’s eyes it was almost painfully slow. Everything was almost as he’d remembered it but it felt as though things were moved just two centimeters to the left, and he was having to spot the differences to know what was off. The residential district with its web of black telephone wires, and cracks in the sidewalks, hadn’t changed much in the days since his youth.But many of the stores he remembered as a child now were dark, with boarded windows and chains upon their doors. The onion-shaped domes and minarets which had belonged to churches and places of worship were now relics of a forgotten era. With downtown Honki preferring their glass sky-scraping buildings and neat terminals of steel where everything that had given the city color was tucked away, crammed into busy roads and side-streets where the darkest shadows absorbed all the city had to offer. Arajin pressed his head against the window, watching as the sunlight kissed each spire as though lighting candles to herald the coming of a new day or warn him how much time he had before this “new life” ran out.“Y’know, you gave us quite a scare when you ran off like that,” Heiwajima remarked, and Arajin closed his eyes with an exhale through his nose. He’d forgotten that part of aksing someone for a ride was the likelihood of being subjected to small talk. It would’ve been better if he asked him about school, or if he was interested in making friends or meeting a girl. But eventually, all topics ended up coming back to — “Is everythin’ alright with you and Yayako-san?”His eyes snapped open as he lifted his head from the window when they crossed over a bridge and the car began to tremble. Over the shuddering, groaning metal and the smell of cologne in the seats, Arajin tried to gather what semblance of his sham he had left. The grey fat, bulbous ornament marking the end of the bridge reminding him to plaster on a bemused, dumbfounded expression. “What do you mean by that?”“Well,” Heiwajima started, trailing off into a cough. The wellspring of unease began to shift restlessly in Arajin as a smile appeared on the man’s face. He peered at him from the rearview mirror, the kindly look in his eyes making Arajin want to tear his gaze away. He held fast though, and narrowed his eyes ever-so-slightly in goading. Go on, he wanted to say. Let me know exactly what you’ve been up to. If Heiwajima knew what was going through his mind, he either didn’t care or was oblivious. When he spoke again, it was with that tone that Arajin hated most. The voice of someone who knew something about him or for him and was trying to sell it to him like a greasy, no-good con artist. “You’re around that age when a boy’s becomin’ a man. It’d be a little hard for a woman to understand,” Heiwajima chortled, and Arajin’s hand curled into a fist atop his thigh. He was surprised that his arm wasn’t shaking with the might of a drill with how badly he wanted to force it down Heiwajima’s throat. The smile flaked off his face, revealing the scowl beneath as the older man’s eyes fell from his in the rearview mirror to mind the cross-walk they’d rolled upon. “So if you ever need someone to talk to—”“Let me out here,” Arajin interjected, pulling the door open. The car jerked as Heiwajima stepped heavily on the brake and whipped around in his seat, guffawing with aborted questions and calls of Arajin’s name. Once his case and school bag were secured, Arajin slapped his palm atop of the roof and leaned into the cramped humidity of the car’s interior. His nerves sparked and lashed out, clashing against one another with the desire to leap across the seats and shake sense into the man who found himself comfortable in insinuating a place where he didn’t belong. Another, one that soothed the itching sensation in his knuckles with a balm dredged up from his memories.His mom’s smiling face as she offered him the space to talk, kissed his cheek with the love only a mother could give.
Do it for her.
“Keep the advice to yourself, ossan,” Arajin said, ignoring the beeps from the car behind them as he leaned in further to bore deep into Heiwajima’s face. His bushy brows raised but drew together, knuckles undulating against the steering wheel as his nostrils flared. Arajin tipped his head slightly, tapping his fingers in a rhythm as he drawled, “An’ if you wanna keep the reason for your daily visits at our place away from the missus, I’d suggest laying off the friendly speeches.”Sweat dribbled down Heiwajima’s temple, and the corner of Arajin’s lips twitched upward in a facsimile of a gopher’s smile. “Thanks for the ride, Heiwajima-san!” He slid backward, and slammed the car door shut. The window rattling and his dull-eyed reflection staring back at him as he turned around, stepping onto the sidewalk then shoving one hand in his pocket to march along. From behind, cars honked angrily while drivers shouted out of their windows for being made to miss a perfectly good light as the traffic light turned red. Amidst them, Arajin could hear Heiwajima call out for him to wait but he didn’t bother to turn around. With everything he’d endured thus far, he couldn’t stomach seeing Heiwajima mooning over his mom another day. No one would understand why she still held a candle for his dad, but the thought of them being out of love with one another couldn’t register in his head at all. Not when she still wore her wedding ring, and kept the scarves she wore during their wedding, or talked about his dad like he was just out fetching a gallon of milk rather than halfway across the world. Arajin touched the strap of his case and brushed his fingers down to the red scarf tied into a bow in the middle of its length. It was soft from the multitude of washes endured over the years and the gold-tipped ties were just as vibrant. He brushed his thumb over them, admiring the gilded design before letting out a sigh.He drew his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen to bring it to life with a slight grimace.
Guess I’ll just have to put up with having an awkward debut, sorry kaa-chan…
Where is everyone?
Arajin surveyed the empty school yard at the front of Ichizu High with wonderment. In the morning, it was just as decrepit but there was a distinct lack of life that made it almost eerier than its evening counterpart. He wandered through the mottled gates, eyeing the patches of rust on the iron bars and the broken lock hanging pitifully from its chain. Chipped paint was covered by thick lines of sprayed-on tags in bold, bright colors and cobwebs formed in the crevices where the light had yet to touch. Wild grass and vines tangled around the gate prop, and as Arajin passed by, yellow slit-pupiled eyes watched him from the shadows.He shuddered, keeping his gaze planted forward as he wandered down the dilapidated path toward the school's front entrance. To his relief, there were few students switching into their indoor shoes and exchanging greetings with little smiles or waves of the hand before disappearing down one end of the corridor to the other. Few raised their heads as he passed by, but he felt the familiar burn of someone's stare grilling into his back. When he flicked his head to one side, the stare was gone and those behind him at the footlockers drastically dwindled in number.Footsteps beat against the floors in one direction or another, and quickly as they'd come, people vanished right before his eyes. He scratched at his temple before glancing down at his shoes before tapping his heels to knock off the yellowing dust from his travels, then stepping up to make his way to the teachers' conference room. Under the morning sunlight, it was easier to see how harshly the school building had been defaced. Even the classroom windows bore graffiti of balloons, and ducks squeaking lightning bolts into the air like a child's art class drawing. He followed the trajectory of the ducks' target and pulled his lips to one side with a slight incline of the head. At the end of their scope was a manji in a big blue balloon large enough that anyone could hit it so long as they actually tried.
If the rubber ducks and colorful balloons are one gang, then the blue balloon with the manji must be another one.
A sneeze echoed in the empty hall, and Arajin's strides slowed with a hm as he turned to look over his shoulder. A young man with pale reddish-brown hair, and an almost ashen complexion stared at him with doe brown eyes. His hand fell from his face, trembling as his eyes grew impossibly wide. A trail of snot dribbled from his flared nostrils to the palm of his hand, and Arajin winced before rummaging in his pockets for a handkerchief."Eek!"He jerked his head up in time to see the boy turn tail and run, throwing open one of the classroom doors with a disgusted yuck before darting inside and slamming it shut. Arajin's hand fell to his side, the handkerchief hooked onto his curled fingertips as he glanced at the windows and wondered if someone was watching him from behind the layers of colorful graffiti.
Are people avoiding me?
Arajin hung his head, sighing heavily.
I didn't even have the chance to do anything yet.
There was nothing else that could be done about it, he figured, so he tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket before turning around. Voiceless presences followed him down the hall, the air thickened with anticipation as though holding a breath for the moment that trouble arrived. Nevertheless, Arajin continued walking until he found the sliding door to the teacher's conference room and uttered a prayer within his heart to at least have a moment to introduce himself properly.Impressions of chatter traveled through the door with the murmur of laughter, a humming of an appliance grinding as it worked through a task, and an echo of someone typing. Arajin turned his hand over, rapping his knuckles against the door before calling out, "Excuse the interruption!"As though all at once, the voices quieted aside from one or two mutters he couldn't quite make out. There was no telling if it was the same person or multiple people talking over one another, or even a television left on. He waited patiently until a fatigued, throaty voice barked out with a put-upon sigh, "Come in!"The door rattled open on its hinges, and Arajin stepped into the room with a surveying look. Desks that had been empty the day before were now occupied by weary-looking adults, fanning themselves with pamphlets and plunking away keyboards with listless eyes staring into the flickering blue abyss of a screen. A young lady was rubbing together prayer beads, rolling them in her palms as she muttered beneath her breath.Arajin would've believed she was praying if not for the ominous aura emanating from her intense, hoarse murmurings. One man sat on a dingy, white table pressed up against the wall laden with a coffee maker and an assortment of coffee creamers, stirrers, sugars and cups. He was helping himself to another cup, not seeming to mind Arajin or anything else for that matter as his red-glazed eyes blinked slowly at the air above their heads.
Are they alright?
"So, who're you supposed to be?"Arajin paused and turned his chin toward his left shoulder, tilting his head up to meet the droopy eyes of a man wearing a track suit. There was something about him that screamed gym teacher, whether the athletic wear stretching to contain his barrel chest or the tousled way his brown hair fell messily around his ears. His mouth opened in a yawn, eyes scrunching up tight as he smacked his lips then rubbed his fingertips behind his left ear."Never seen you before," he muttered, suspicion crawling beneath his words as he fixed a sharp eye onto Arajin then somewhere above his head. "What's in the case?"Arajin curled his hand tighter in his case's strap, turning around to face him fully. "A bass guitar," he answered, and the resulting snort from his (potential) gym teacher sounded a lot like derision and 'yeah, alright'. He does his best not to narrow his eyes or step into the teacher's space to stare him down. If anything, he might've been waiting for it to happen. Instead, he projected his voice a little louder over the clacking keys, chants, and dazed groaning, "My name is Tomoshibi Arajin, and I'm looking for Otomi Kanchi-sensei, I'm transferring to his class starting today."The movement around the room dwindled to nothing but awkward silence, and Arajin turned his eyes to the now still room to find everyone exchanging glances with one another. They looked at him as if he'd grown two heads, or a third eye, and they couldn't believe that they were bearing witness to either of these things. In a way, he was starting to suspect why his homeroom teacher was the only one left working after school hours. Being in a room full of people who could communicate with a glance how bad a thing was would've driven Arajin insane."A transfer, huh?" The man in front of him broke the silence with a lazy drawl, and Arajin twitched with irritation when his large hand clapped against his shoulder over the case's strap. "That'd explain the hour, but not what's in this. With the kind'f school we've got, y' can't be too careful…"His thick fingers curled around the strap in a vice, pulling it closer to him as he leaned down to bring his face closer to Arajin's. "Show me what's in it," he said, and Arajin narrowed his eyes at the implication. The familiar stare of eyes on him, waiting and watching to see what he would do had returned and his knuckles itched to connect with the man's stubbly jaw.
Knock his head one way, grind my elbow into the juncture between his forearm and bicep until he fucking lets go—
"I can't do that," Arajin answered, closing his hand around the scarf as he met the harsh tug with one of his own.A vertical wrinkle popped between the teacher's brow as he curled his fist around the strap. "Why's that? Got somethin' to hide?" He asked, menace rippling through his words with his bloodshot eyes narrowing to slits. It was like the darkness of his irises would swallow Arajin whole.
Delinquency is ruining the image of this institution—
You could say that again. Adults bullying teenagers, get real.
Arajin cupped around the side of his mouth, whispering in a faux-hushed tone, "Sensei, I'm underage. If I was caught with the smell of tobacco on my instrument, I would get into trouble. If you promise to wash your hands and wash out your mouth, then I can let you look at it."A needle could have dropped to the floor and it would be as loud as a bomb going off in the room. The unwanted grip loosened and Arajin took a step backward, wafting away the lingering scent of molasses and dried persimmons with the underlying hint of shisha. Did he really think no one would notice if he'd smoked a bowl before school began? While the smell of coffee percolating in the carafe did a good deal of veiling it, being up close and personal made the attempt a cheap veneer.
Come to think of it, they're all acting strangely. If they were supposed to be teaching a class then they would've been at the top of their game, right?
An image of Jin Masuzo flashed across his mind's eye, and Arajin huffed. Surely that guy wouldn't allow his staff to appear so sloppy in front of their students, would he? Or perhaps, he didn't know they were like this.Arajin stared at the gym teacher as his hand curled into a quivering fist, veins popping as he cocked his arm back. "You—""A-Ah, Hagihara-sensei! Stop, stop!" Someone shouted from behind Arajin, and he tightened his grip on his school bag in preparation to throw it up as a shield.Though just as they both moved, the door rolled open and their eyes snapped to the newcomer which was a… tower of books. A precariously, swaying tower of books stacked on top of one another to the point where their height was detrimental to their steadiness. Arajin glanced around the room to make sure he wasn't the only one seeing this. Hagihara's tension melted as he sucked his teeth and straightened up, marching over with the impatience of someone accustomed to the sight."No one told you to stack all of 'em, Kanchi," he griped, snatching a few of the books that were beginning to tip over the side from smacking against the door frame. "Oi, get off your ass and help out, Fujima!""C-Coming!"Arajin stumbled forward to avoid the wiry, red-eyed man who'd been perched on the table. His loafers skidded across the floor as he staggered to a halt, then whipped around, flinging droplets of coffee in the air. The liquid sloshed against the sides of his mug as he held it out to Arajin, bending at a ninety-degree angle."Sorry about everything from earlier, Tomoshibi-san. Please, help yourself."Arajin winced, reaching out to cover the top of the mug with his hand and lift it out of his hands. "Thanks," he said with a fair amount of disgust at the acrid, sweet smell wafting up to his nose. "But I'm fine."He set it on the table and took another step back to watch as the two men helped his homeroom teacher with gathering the books, arguing and fumbling all the while. Once the books were gathered, and settled on the teacher's desks, Arajin could see the gaunt face of Otomi Kanchi. He bowed his head while apologizing profusely to Fujima and Hagihara who were pretending either not to notice his apologies or be put-out by them.
It's the same no matter where you go.
Hagihara ground a finger against the top of Otomi-sensei's bowed head, and Arajin's jaw tightened with each twist of his wrist. While Otomi-sensei didn't wince in pain or make a sound, his hands twitched at his sides with each cycle.
I'm sick of it.
Arajin glanced over his shoulder at the two women ignoring their colleagues, then cupped his hand around the steaming cup of coffee before giving it a nudge off the table's side. The ceramic shattered across the floor, and one of the women screamed behind him while the men turned around to assess what had happened."I'm sorry, Fujima-sensei!" Arajin called pleadingly, pointing down to the mess of shards and liquid beneath his feet. "Your coffee fell."Hagihara turned a glare onto a gobsmacked Fujima, practically breathing fire as he bore down upon his head, "Fujima. You idiot-!"Fujima tried his best to stammer out an apology beneath the torrent of vulgarities heaped upon his head, flubbing for an explanation as to how he couldn't possibly have been at fault. While Hagihara railed on about taking care of belongings, and how they only had a certain number of good mugs in the teacher's conference room, Arajin slipped out from underneath their bickering, side-stepping the streams of coffee inching across the floor to make his way to the doorway."Tomoshibi..s-an?" Otomi-sensei asked, his eyes softening with something akin to relief when their gaze met. "Y-You're here quite early, aren't you?""I thought I was late," Arajin admitted, tucking his hands in his pockets as he cut a glance over his shoulder at the pitiful sight of Fujima on hand and knee attempting to clean up the mess with his tie while Hagihara loomed over him. "But maybe I got the times wrong?""No, no," Otomi-sensei told him, shaking his head before stepping out to lead him into the hallway. He gave a quick bow before sliding the door shut, sealing the noise inside. "I never showed you the way to our classroom, did I? This way, please."In what felt like a re-enactment of their first meeting, Otomi-sensei gestured down the hall with a sweep of the hand and Arajin followed alongside him. They passed through the corridor overlooking the courtyard and Arajin glanced out of the window to watch as the burbling water flow into the paved basin stretching further out of sight into the leafy foliage. The water sparkled in the morning light and Arajin caught himself leaning closer to the window to admire it between the clouded haze."Tomoshibi-san."Arajin turned to look at Otomi-sensei, lips parting in a mixture of exasperation and surprise as he sighed from being greeted with the back of the man's bowed head."I sincerely apologize for my colleagues' behavior."It was awkward to say the least, receiving an apology with such wholehearted sincerity upon forgiveness from an adult who was his teacher no less. What was he supposed to learn from him aside from groveling on the ground? Although, the thought notched guilt in Arajin's stomach as he eyed the top of Otomi-sensei's head and shook his own. He was the last person who should have scolded him for something like this at the very least. It wasn't his fault for being picked on, even at his age. The fault lied with the ones who thought they were right for doing what they wanted with him.Arajin clasped his hand around the scarf, and turned his face back to the window. "Forget about it, I'm more concerned with how people are moving around here. Did something happen yesterday, I saw a couple of people on the way to the conference room but they seemed scared."Otomi-sensei straightened up from his bow and adjusted his glasses, nodding, "Ah, Jin-sensei told me he informed you about our school's… rivals. Perhaps he hadn't told you everything.""Oh, did he?" Arajin hoped the snide bite didn't bleed into his voice, but he thought better of meeting Otomi-sensei's eyes to confirm whether it had or not. "What else did he say, sensei?""Only that you weren't particularly interested," Otomi-sensei told him, laughter lightening his voice as he exhaled wispily, "which is a relief but it may also make your life difficult here."Arajin glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and at Otomi-sensei's direction, began to follow him down the hall toward their classroom yet again. A few of the light fixtures were busted overhead, their scattered shards swept into a neat pile on one side of the hallway. Though he doubted someone would be able to avoid stepping in it once the halls crowded with bodies, and wondered who broke them and why."You see, the Minato Kai and Siguma teams are competing for the top spot which means they've claimed territory around Honki City as their turf," Otomi-sensei slowed his strides to gesture toward one of the sliding classroom doors. Arajin's eyes widened at sprawling artwork of a whirlpool stretching across the discolored cream base of the wall and blotting out the window as the artist used every inch of the for their artwork.Blue white-capped breakers swelled into an arch tall enough to curve along the crux where the wall met the ceiling. A mass of small bubbles frothed at the base of the tidal wave, the ocean stirring to life in a short choppy waves declining into swells as the unseen wind drew them back toward somewhere unknown. Arajin's heart hammered as his eyes found the shape of the manji hidden within the swirling current. A thunderous roar echoed in his ears as his mind conjured the image of a massive wall of water surging toward him, threatening to drag him into the deep.He took a step back, swallowing hard to keep his heart from leaping out of his throat. Light streamed from the windows behind them, illuminating the still wave and the swirling tempest forming the lines of the manji within the current. Arajin held his breath as he searched the edges of the mural for any sign of tampering, or indication that another gang's tag had been left before it but there wasn't a single impression. Only the blue water with its swirling black depths, and deceptive white foam inviting into the deep. It was beautiful, he could admit, but the imagination of what sheer strength and skill it would take for someone to have drawn this or embody it was terrifying in itself."Is this Minato Kai's?" Arajin asked breathlessly, loosening the hold on his scarf as he took another step back.Otomi-sensei cleared his throat, solemnly stating, "It is. Their turf war extends to including certain classrooms and wings of Ichizu."Before Arajin could become swept up in the work any longer, Otomi-sensei tapped his shoulder and he blinked away his awe to continue following him. "The students you noticed attending classes are, for the most part, unaffiliated with either side."Otomi-sensei glanced down at Arajin, eyeing him with wonder before his gaze fell somewhere below his chin. "They may have considered you to be a member of Siguma because of that scarf."Arajin plucked at the tail ends of his scarf's bow, frowning slightly as he undid the tie then slipped it from around the strap. "Just because of this?" He asked, folding it end over end before tucking it into his jacket pocket."I'm afraid so, Siguma and Minato Kai's colors are very distinct. A member of one team would never be caught bearing the colors of another."Arajin stuck his hand in his pocket, eyeing the floors and walls with a new sense of understanding. Now the questions of why he came here made sense. "You either pick a side, fight for your life, or keep your head down til graduation…" He scoffed, scratching his knuckles against the inner lining of his pocket to stave off their itch. "Sounds like a way to go.""Indeed…" Otomi-sensei agreed wistfully, his eyes distant and hands curled to fists at his side.Arajin glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and the curiosity won out before he could think better of it. "So, who're you with?""Eh?" Otomi-sensei gasped, whipping his head around to look at him. "Pardon?""Like I told you before, you don't seem to fit vibe of this place, sensei," Arajin explained, shrugging as though to say 'sorry, but it's the truth'. "And aside from Hagihara and Fujima giving you a hard time, you don't seem like you've been touched."Was it something where teachers were off limits? Or had he already picked a side, and they kept him protected so long as he turned a blind eye to what they were up to? The multi-colored binder sitting in a stack on Otomi-sensei's desk wasn't enough to declare whether or not he was part of either gang's orbit. Although, there had to be a reason he was assigned to be an instructor for these type of students.Arajin glanced up again, unsure what he expected to see in Otomi-sensei's eyes but it certainly wasn't anything like this: panic, confusion, and… shame.Silence wrenched between them, growing restless as it lashed out for anything and everything to hold onto. Yet, neither of them gave it a second thought or seemed to acknowledge its hunger for knowing. When Otomi-sensei averted his eyes, Arajin let his drift ahead. The apology from earlier wouldn't change the fact that he'd seen his homeroom teacher at his weakest, but he figured Otomi-sensei might have been used to receiving a lack of respect from his students and peers.
Then, why stay?
They lapsed into silence, lost to their own thoughts as the trek down the hall seemed to last for what felt like forever. Arajin hardly noticed Otomi-sensei had stopped until he turned around to find his homeroom teacher fiddling with his keys at the latch of another classroom door.It wasn't covered in a full-on mural but there was graffit of fat, grey clouds with lightning bolt and rain droplet stickers plastered beneath them. Some of the stickers were torn as if someone tried to peel them off, or ripped them clean from their backing while the clouds' smudges could've been artfully passed off for rainfall. Or at the very least, smog.Arajin tipped his head to one side, wondering where the door's catch would be under all of the unwanted decoration but Otomi-sensei had no trouble with finding a way to open it after attempting to undo the lock. A murmured sigh of, "Someone must have kicked it open again," followed the door simply rolling open."Sensei," Arajin called out after Otomi-sensei stepped inside. He waited until his teacher turned around to lower his head in a bow. "I'm sorry, I went too far with my joke. Teachers should always be impartial, right? There's no way you would take sides in a kid's game of tug-of-war."His words hung in the air like a suspended breath, a bubble of calm awaiting to be popped gently or by a vicious jab. Instead, Otomi-sensei let out a titter which buoyed the bubble with each note until Arajin's words and the tension floated away."Apology accepted, Tomoshibi-san. And you're quite right," Otomi-sensei said, and Arajin lifted his head before glancing aside at the collection of rain clouds on the door. There was a small hitch in his breath as he hoped to be proven wrong, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his bad feelings had never proven to be false before."Oh, she must not be here yet," he heard Otomi-sensei muse over from inside, and followed after him with a curious sweep across the room. Though once he crossed the threshold, the stale scent of musk permeating from the walls smacked into him full-force. His eyes flew open, thumb and forefinger pinching the tip of his nose. With how much graffiti was on the building, he doubted there was an actual facilities to take care of clean-up but did they do nothing in here?He could hardly concentrate from the smell, glancing between the vandalized desks and tarnished walls. If even the classroom was like this then how did anyone get anything done here? He shrugged off his case, propping it up against the wall before setting his school bag down beside it. Otomi-sensei was attempting to wipe off the myriad of colorful chalk drawings and threats written on the blackboard while Arajin rushed over to the nearest window, throwing it open and sticking his head out for a breath of fresh air.This place really is a nightmare…"Since you're here, why don't we start a placement test, Tomoshibi-san?"Arajin's stomach churned with disgust as he turned to look over his shoulder, "Placement?"Otomi-sensei gave him a commiserating smile, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket as he walked over. "You transferred from abroad, right?" He held out a handkerchief, and motioned as though covering his nose and mouth. Arajin followed suit, taking in a few deep inhales. It smelled faintly of jasmine — rich, sweet with a hint of musk underneath that wasn't as strong when compared to the classroom itself. The floral undertones made it easier to breathe and after a few inhales, the nausea churning in his stomach abated."The curriculum must be different, so it would be good to know where you are in terms of benchmarks required for a first-year student," Otomi-sensei explained, taking the handkerchief when Arajin offered to him. "We'll have some time before the other students arrive, so you don't need to feel nervous."Arajin rubbed the side of his neck, then sighed as he pulled his glasses from his jacket pocket. "Alright, it'll pass the time, I guess."Honestly, he couldn't wait for the day to be over.The test itself was nothing more than a series of questions from a variety of subjects being asked and answered verbally. Eventually, Arajin's mind began to disregard the blatant signs around him of what his potential classmates were to be like in favor of proving that he belonged here. Ichizu was a wasteland, but it would be his until he graduated and that did mean something in the long run. Otomi-sensei's delight in his seriousness while taking the exam sat wrongly in the pit of his stomach, although he did admire his homeroom teacher's desire for teaching.Even if he was obtuse about almost everything else, that was something he couldn't hide."Now for the last question, what character archetype refers to a mysterious and seductive woman, typically with ulterior motives?"Arajin leaned his head against his hand, tapping his fingers along the edge of the desk he sat in. "Femme fatale," he said. "It's French for a deadly or lethal woman."Otomi-sensei gave a steady round of claps, his face lighting up with a smile. "That is correct, Tomoshibi-san. You're every bit as bright as Jin-sensei says."The tinny chime of a cellphone's ringing saved Arajin from nearly rolling his eyes into the sky at the compliment. Otomi-sensei excused himself, fishing his phone out of his pocket before bringing it to his ear as he answered the person on the other line. Distance put between them with him standing at the classroom's door while Arajin leant against his desk and stared out the window rendered tracking the conversation moot. Though at this point, Arajin wanted repayment for the hours of sleep he'd lost.He looked out the window, ignoring the murmur and chatter to watch as students gradually trickled in through the opened gates. Girls with calf-length skirts, scrunched socks and sneakers wore their uniforms several sizes too big. And there were guys with half their hair buzzed off, sporting spicy faux-hawks and tattoos peeking from beneath their clothes. No two students looked alike from what he could tell, and Jin-sensei's talk of individuality definitely was at play. Everyone had their style, and no one seemed keen on parting with it even for the school day.Groups gathered under the shady palm trees, in no rush to enter the building as the air buzzed with jabbering Arajin would've associated with a hang-out."Tomoshibi-san, I'll have to step out for a moment," Otomi-sensei called, pushing the door open before Arajin could get a word out edge-wise. It rattled in its frame as he shut it, and Arajin blew out a sigh before climbing out of his seat. He went over to grab his school bag and bass, bringing it over to where Otomi-sensei designated his desk would be and plopped down.
I'm exhausted…
He tucked his glasses case inside his desk before curling forward atop of it, pillowing his head on his arms. A cool breeze fluttered in through the open window, brushing atop of his head with gentle strokes before moving on. The day hadn't even started yet, and he already wished he could've just gone home and skipped out on all of this. His eyes drifted shut as he surrendered to a light doze, dreaming of crashing waves and roaring tides beneath an overcast sky flashing with forked shafts of bright yellow lightning. In the midst between them, drifting precariously on the howling wind, was a white-winged dove in search of land. "Excuse me?"Arajin's eyebrows twitched at the voice calling for him but sleep continued to press him down, unrelenting in its hold. The voice is soft, almost curious in the way it jumps at the end as if the speaker's breathing is music itself. Something cool brushed against the back of his neck and he snuggled his face down into the space between his arms, allowing it to rock him further back into a state of light dozing."Excuse me?" The voice repeats, a little pressure applied to the second syllable matching the tap onto of Arajin's head. It's not the hard line of chalk or a marker being thrown at him but feels warm. It rolls somewhere atop of his head, mussing up his hair before drifting away and the deliberation of what it might have been is what pulled him out of sleep's lull entirely. Slowly, Arajin peeled his cheek from his forearm and groaned at the pressure where his glasses dug into his temples. The world went dark as he closed his eyes for a moment, slipping the glasses from his face to soothe agitated bridge of his nose and coax the blood back into the grooves where his glasses' arms imprinted into his skull.Once the pain dwindled, he could register that voice again speaking to him. "— sleep here, you could catch a cold y'know?"Arajin cracked open one eye beneath the shade of his hand, but almost as if on cue, the world swooned and twisted to a tune he had no measure for. He slammed his eyes shut and pressed his palms to his eyes to stave off the coming headache. Through the foggy haze of waking, pain crackled and throbbed like hot coals pressed behind his eye sockets. "It's fine," he muttered, hissing as that voice cut through again."Does your head hurt?"
Obviously, genius.
Though, he hadn't been able to spit the words out with how tightly his jaw clenched from the throbbing."Here, use this to cover your eyes for a bit."It took all his strength not to snatch his hand away from the slender fingers peeling his palm from his eye. The fingers skimmed over his heated skin, leaving chilly tingling impressions of their path as the one they belonged to pressed something icy-cold yet satiny in Arajin's hand. He curled his fingers, narrowly missing closing them over the ones gliding over his hand in passing.
A handkerchief?
Arajin brought it closer to his face, sniffing his balled-up fist before unfurling it to lay the dainty cloth over his eyes. He leant back in his chair and sighed heavily. Mint and rosemary filled his nostrils with each breath he took, and the rigidness wounding his body up to where even his mind was clenched into mental fists was coming undone. Being so wound up wouldn't do anything good for him in the long run, but he was finding it harder to calm down when thinking about everything that laid ahead. In the distance, likely right outside the window he'd opened, the noisiness from the growing crowd of delinquents propounded the idea that the day would once again be noisy and wrought with putting up a fight against the want to put this all away.It felt as if each opportunity he had to put it behind him was slipping out from beneath his feet. But it hadn't all been bad. His mom was happy to see him home, and she would be there when he got back to hear all about his day. In turn, he'd listen to hers and everything would right itself for one moment longer. Though, he wasn't sure what he'd do if she asked him if he ran into Matakara at school.
I should've asked Otomi-sensei who else is in this class. If one of Minato Kai's territories is down this hall, there could be others.
"Feel better?" The voice asked, and Arajin startled.He hadn't even noticed that someone was still there. At closer listen, the voice sounded like a girl's. Its gentleness was very nice, smooth as honey with the pleasant fluffiness that graced his ear like a gentle brush of a feather. His teeth set on edge and his tongue stilled at how inviting it sounds, and how dangerous that feels in a place such as this. He lifted the handkerchief from his eyes, holding it between his hands as his eyes slowly blinked open. They nearly closed again from the blinding sunlight but the sound of someone ahh-ing softly snapped them wide open."Wow…"Arajin lowered his eyes, and blinked owlishly at the girl crouched in front of his desk.
Jin… Mahoro.
Arajin could only see her head, and the top of her hands as she gawked at him over the side of his desk but it was almost as if she'd stepped out of the picture imprinted in the back of his mind. Moon-eyed, pink irises peering from beneath swept-up long, dark lashes bore into him with fervor as though she was trying to take in every aspect of his being and leave nothing unturned. Dark tresses pooled atop of her shoulders like the lake at a bottom of a waterfall, glittering with a lustrous sheen he wouldn't have expected from someone who dyed part of their hair candy pink.Perhaps it was a trick of the light but the color in the sweet, two-toned space buns seemed to turn when she tipped her head to rest her cheek against her knuckles. It was almost hypnotic in a way, and Arajin quickly tore his eyes away from them and the waving red heart-clasps to regard the girl herself.
Just when did she get here?
"Wow, they're like rubies."Arajin snapped out of his trance, looking over his shoulders before frowning. "Huh?" He hadn't expected when he looked back to find her dragging a hawkish gaze over him. Unconsciously, his mind tried to draw together the similarities between her and her father. Aside from their physical features, the two of them seemed night and day. Although, Arajin doubted that would last long. When their eyes met again, her assessing glances stopped and the corner of her lips curled into a smile half-hidden as she tucked her mouth against her hand."Your eyes."Arajin's eyebrows rose together, and he turned his gaze down to peer at his reflection in his glasses. "Oh…""Oh," she giggled, smiling lazily at him. "This couldn't be the first time you've seen your own eyes, could it?"The implication behind the joke pursed Arajin's lips, and that must have been response enough for her because her lips split with laughter like the gentle toll of bells."Are you from this class?" She asked, her wide eyes crescented gleefully. "Or, did you just hide out here to take a nap before class starts?"Arajin scowled, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. "Class should've started an hour ago.""Maybe in some of the other rooms," she said with a careless air of 'What can you do?'. Then tip-tapped her fingers against his desk, tilting her head to the other side. "So, which is it?"
Your father didn't tell you anything about me?
In hindsight, he supposed Jin Masuzo wouldn't have told his daughter anytihng about a protection detail he designed for her. If she was the type to get wrapped up within gang-related business then there was no telling if this was even her real face. The thought sobered Arajin up almost immediately, and the rest of the world came flooding back into the little space carved out between the two of them. Footsteps, and the ambient muffled mixture of conversation drifted in from the hallway. Cars hummed, and engine motors revved noisily until they died somewhere on the school grounds.Arajin's eyes shuttered as a gentle wind softly caressed his cheek, moving past him with a comforting tousle of his hair. It almost feels like forgiveness and whispers for him to remember who and where he was. All the while, Jin Mahoro waited for his answer with expectant eyes alight with a marveling curiosity as though she was witnessing a firsthand rarity.
There it is. It's that look.
"I transferred here," Arajin explained, folding the handkerchief end over end before handing it back to her. Her lips parted in a petal-pink 'o' as she took the handkerchief from him by plucking its side then drawing it into her grasp with a hum. He swung his restless gaze to his glasses, picking them up to tuck them back onto his face. The lenses transitioned to shades from where they absorbed the sunlight, and he was almost grateful that it would hide his eyes for a short while.Once her handkerchief was tucked away, Jin Mahoro's eyebrow slanted in disapproval when her gaze shifted back to him. "Have you ever considered wearing contacts, uhm…"Arajin sighed, curving his fingers over his nape as his gaze skittered away to the empty desk neighboring his. "Sorry, I don't want to repeat myself," he stated. "Could you wait until introductions?"Her silence was all the answer he really needed. Attempts at friendliness and helpfulness aside, he couldn't exactly bring himself to calm down when she was in his presence. The looming presence of her father aside, there was also the threat of what she was involved in and the problems that it could bring to his doorstep. With everything riding on him, he didn't have the space to take up dead weight.He winced at the thought, and glanced up when Jin Mahoro had been quiet longer than his liking. Her downcast eyes rolled up to the ceilings then shuttered as she hopped to her feet, planting both hands down on his desk. Arajin jumped at the force of the smack, and stared wide-eyed over his glasses while she leaned over him with an impish smile."Then, you'll just have to wait to hear my name too," she said, eyes squinting with glee as she pushed back then reached down to pick something up before wandering to the desk next to his.Arajin blinked slowly, releasing the hitched breath trapped in his throat. A chair scraped against the floor, her school bag landing on top of the desk with a thud as she took out her things with a cheery hum. Textbooks, a multi-colored drawstring lunch pail, and a cellphone with a droplet charm chain gathered on her desktop before she hooked her bag onto the side hook. Realization rapidly dawned upon Arajin but it wasn't until she tucked her hands beneath the length of her skirt and smoothed it out while lowering herself down to sit that it became clear.
Did that old geezer plan this all along?
He clenched his fist beneath his desk, uttering swears and curses in the back of his mind that he'd gladly tell to Jin Masuzo's face the next time their paths crossed."Ahh," Jin Mahoro sighed loudly, raising her voice as she leaned back in her chair and kicked the heels of her loafers against the floor. "I can't wait for classes to start."It was such an obvious lure that Arajin nearly snorted at the attempt. She might have been the daughter to a bane of his existence but it seemed like she was still just a girl, awkward and weird, but also in her own way. With a lack of anything better to do, he set to unpacking his school bag as well, tucking his lunch inside of his desk with his textbooks and pen case."Neh, Transfer-kun."Arajin's eyebrow twitched. Was that what she was taking to calling him now? He considered not raising his head to answer her. After all, it wasn't his name, but foreseeing how difficult she had been before - brushing her off might not have been the way to get her to leave him be. He cut a sidelong glance to her, noticing how she tucked her fists under her chin and stared somewhere below his line of sight."What's that?" She asked, flicking her thumb toward him then angling it downward with a slight tip of the head.Arajin followed the direction, patting his hand on the zipper of his case. When he glanced up and her eyes sparked with interest, he sighed. "A bass guitar.""Ooh," She leant forward, pressing her elbows firmly against the desk while half-hanging out of her seat as though it would grant her a better look at the instrument within its cover. "Are you in a band?""No," Arajin said. He hung up his bag on the side of his desk, peeking up when he heard the telling hmm murmured from her. Her eyes followed him expectantly, and he cursed himself for striking up yet another conversation with her after evading the first. "It's… just a hobby, but if there's a cultural festival, I'd like to play with the light music club."Her lips fell open to a gape before pressing together, turning up with laughter quivering at their seams.Arajin frowned, turning halfway in his seat. "What's funny?"She shook her head. "Sorry, it's not funny like that. It's just that the light music club is run by Yamadera-sensei, and he's barred access to new transfers after the last left before their first meeting. You'll have to get through the year before you can join.""Haaah—?!" Arajin prayed that she had been kidding, but the look on her face and the little crease between her brows were too genuine for him to think otherwise. He slapped his hand against his forehead, grinding the heel of his palm into the crown. Of course, the one thing he would have been looking forward to most from a school like this and it was quartered off from him. He pulled his glasses off, sliding them into the palm of his left hand before dropping his head head onto the desk, "What a pain…"
Nothing is going right for me today.
"Cheer up," she said. Her tone held a bit of glee to it, though he couldn't tell if it was for his benefit or because she found humor in his plight. "If you want to practice, I can show you my secret spot."Arajin turned his head to one side, cheek pressing against the desk as he watched her tuck a finger under her chin and screw her eyes up to the ceiling like she was thinking about something."No one would bother you there," she promised. Then, she glanced at him and winked, "Well… aside from me that is."
Of course there would be a catch…
"You're not serious, are you?" Arajin asked in a low voice. It was enough for the two of them to hear one another in the empty classroom, and enough to steal the joyful glint from her eyes.Her bottom lip poked in a sullen pout, brows knitted together. "Why would I lie about something like that?""We just met," Arajin stressed, propping his head up on his hand. "You don't even know my name."She rolled her eyes, pointing a finger at him. "Well, if you told me when I asked then we wouldn't have to worry about that, would we?" A self-assured smile ghosted her lips when his eyes drifted askance without a single response. She waved a hand dismissively, rocking backward in her chair with one leg kicking out. "And it isn't as if this special access would be for free."
Special access, yeah right.
Arajin let out a long sigh, eyelids drifting shut. "Alright then, what do you want?"The legs of her chair lifted in the air before coming down with a harsh clack. She bounced with the movement, swaying like a pendulum to where Arajin almost feared that she would have fallen off of her chair. "I want to hear you play," she said, an enthusiastic airiness to her voice as she clapped her hands together as though applauding an invisible show. "Every time you come, I want you to play me a song. Okay?"Arajin wondered where the sudden obsession with his instrument had come from today, but the idea of playing for someone wasn't exactly foreign. He remembered strumming along to his mom's humming to try and create something from the nonsensical songs popping up in her head, or when Matakara couldn't sleep and he would play a lullaby straight from his dad's journals. Jin Mahoro was so fidgety as she awaited his answers, seeming unable to keep herself still with the way her chair trembled underneath her buzzing excitement. It almost reminded Arajin of the boy in his memories, and his eyes opened as he turned around in his seat, then rested his head on his arms."No deal.""What? Why not?""I hate making promises."He could hear the pout in her voice as she asked. "Didn't you make one to me earlier, about your name?""That wasn't a promise," he answered. "It's bound to happen since you're here, and you're clearly listening in on everything I do. Promising to play for you is different. Besides, I don't even know you. Why would I give you a freebie just for a place to practice? Seems like a bad deal.""I guess you're right," she sighed. "You know, you're a very honest person, Transfer-kun."
As far as you know.
Arajin peeked over the wall made from his arms. Her face was turned away from him now, and he was grateful she couldn't see the way his eyes misted over as he watched the enormity of the blue sky illuminate her. There wasn't a single cloud in sight, and the breeze billowed her hair behind her, catching on her puffy white sleeves and turning them to wings as she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear."It's such nice weather today," she said absentmindedly. A smile lingered in her voice, and there was a space there for him to interject. To agree with her, or to say something else to have another chance at conversation, but Arajin closed his eyes and tucked his face against his arm.He'd pretend that he hadn't heard her at all. "Everyone, I'd like to introduce a new classmate."Chalk clacked and scratched across the blackboard in powdery white strokes, spelling out the characters making up Arajin's name. He couldn't remember when he'd last attended a school where someone wrote his name in such fluid strokes, but he appreciated the familiarity of it. When looking ahead, the searing stares honed onto him from the crowd were less than friendly. But he knew what it meant to show a hint of sweat beneath the heat of their scrutiny, and was well-acquainted with the trial of being an outsider amongst those his age. Although, it was difficult to tell whether some of them were his age with how they'd dressed themselves up in clothes a size or two bigger than what they should."Why the fuck ain't he saying anything?""Eh, what the hell's on his back? A drake?"Like kids playing dress-up, trying on a new mask to see whether or not it would stick and committing to the bit through and through. He faced down the vitriolic stares, tipping his chin up when the more bold of the few leered from across their desks or glared while bouncing their legs eagerly - like they were waiting for a moment to lunge at him. He rubbed his thumb along the underside of his bass case's strap, counting the stitches to keep his thrumming heartbeat from quickening in its strums. It helped to keep his mind blank, remind him that he should be focused on getting through the day and embracing the facade of being nothing - no one until he could leave these grounds."Hell no! No one's stupid enough to tote a gun that big, idiot.""Or at all. Remember, Teach is listening."But he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering, observing the room and all the people therein. His classroom was on the second floor, and there were plenty of ways to escape through the windows and doorways without someone being able to grab hold of him. Not to mention the amount of debris left scattered around the room would make for suitable obstacles. When his eyes glided over to the back wall, attempting to examine the supply closet from a distance, the sight of curly teal hair made him stop and look again.
He's here too?
He had only seen Zabu from a distance before, and it'd only been the top of his head at that but Arajin could never forget someone with hair like his or sharp golden eyes attempting to gouge Arajin with a look that could kill. He wracked his brain for any reason Zabu would have to be crossed with him, but the glaring issue stared him right in the face. Did Matakara tell him who the "waste of paper" letters he'd been writing were for? If he had, Zabu only needed to take one look at the board to know who the culprit was for occupying his friend's time with nothing to show for it."Think it's a guitar, probably.""He's kind of cute, in a nerdy way."
Am I supposed to be happy that Matakara has such a loyal friend, or annoyed because he's butting in?
There was no way to know whether or not he was actually upset with him for that reason, and Arajin exhaled through his nose. It also meant meeting Matakara was an inevitability, unless his friend was hellbent on keeping them apart. Something stabbed deep in Arajin's stomach and gave a mocking twist when he dwelled on the thought for a beat longer. Tearing his eyes away, he noticed the blond from the day before — Komao — sitting beside Zabu while attempting to put a straw through the opening of an orange-flavor juicebox.Once he managed to sink it in, he sipped at the straw with a blissful expression that almost made Arajin laugh.
At least someone's having a good time.
His attention finds its way around to his seat, and then Jin Mahoro.
Why's she staring at me?
She propped her cheek up on her hand, flicking a glance elsewhere before meeting his eyes again. Her lips moving with emphasis placed on each word that she attempted to mouth. It took him a second but he pieced together the words one-by-one: Sensei said to introduce yourself. Arajin's lips parted with a soft oh before he turned his focus back to the front of the room, and realized the tension had gone from bad to absolutely worse. Otomi-sensei trembled at his side, sneaking glances at him as if to question what had gone wrong in the midst of his explanation. Thinning his lips to keep from sighing at the dramatics of it all, Arajin cast his eyes skyward then swayed a little as he hung his head with his eyes shut.
Let's just get this over with.
"My name is Tomoshibi Arajin," he said, letting his back and shoulders follow his head in their descent into a ninety-degree angle bow. A hushed silence fell over the room, fraught with tension as the numerous eyes sizing him up stilled upon his head and waited for something. Arajin strained his ears for any sign of someone's approach. It'd be the worst if his reputation was the kid who'd gotten knocked out for being off his guard.When nothing happened, he waited a beat before mustering enough humility to keep his voice from droning and dragging the moment out longer, "I look forward to our time together, everyone."A beat passed before a snickering cackle broke the silence."Aww, he still bows like he's in grade school!"Other streams of laughter began to join behind the other, peppered with small groups talking amongst themselves while dutifully ignoring him. Otomi-sensei tried to gain control of the room but the tempest was unleashed, and his voice was swallowed against the torrent of chatter. Arajin raised his head, eyelids half-drawn as he glanced around the room. Some of his classmates spoke to one another by whispering in each other's ears, while others outrightly laughed while throwing glances in his direction with menacing leers. Few outright ignored him, clucking their tongues with shaking heads."Boring," he heard, ignoring the dull ache in his chest."Lame," he heard, ignoring the itching in his knuckles."Weak."His eyes snapped over in the direction the word came from before Otomi-sensei's voice cut through the buzzing rush of blood thumping in his ears. "Tomoshibi-san," he started, and Arajin turned his head in his direction. The teacher flinched then gestured with a slight warble to his voice, "You can return to your seat there."Remembering to cool his expression, Arajin blinked and tried to reign in his face before giving a curt nod of dismissal. He straightened his case and tucked his school bag closer to ensure neither would be within hands' reach as he walked through the rows to the empty seat beside Jin Mahoro."Hey, Tomoshibi-chaan," a pompadour-bearing teenager jeered from his seat, earning a snicker from his friends. Arajin caught his visage from the corner of his eye as he hooked his school bag on the desk hook then slung his case from his shoulders. "Ain't that a lil heavy for you? Lemme see it, huh?"One of his friends chortled, slapping the back of his hand against his shoulder, "Knock it off, what'd you do with somethin' like that?""Get some scratch, what else?"As they dissolved into laughter, reminiscing on what they would do with the money from their ill-gotten gains, Arajin nudged his case closer to his chair. He watched the boys from the corner of his eye and furrowed his brow at the sight of a thunderbolt hanging from a silver chain around the pompadour teen's neck. The thunderbolt appeared as any other would, a caricature in the shape of a shaft of thunder one would see in the sky, but its color was a scarlet shade of red glinting in green around the thick outer lines making up its shape."Tomoshibi-kun," Jin Mahoro called beckoningly, and Arajin turned his head enough to let her know she'd heard him. When she said nothing else, he tore his eyes away from the trio, certain that he'd memorized their faces as clearly as he possibly could before doing so. A flicker of amusement lingered in her eyes when their gazes met, the smile on her lips enhanced by the way her cheeks rounded on either side of her mouth by her chin resting in the cradle of her fists was as knowing as it was pleased.Arajin didn't know what he'd given away but the idea that Jin Mahoro had been watching him the entire time made him less keen on doing so again. She seemed less inclined to say anything further despite summoning his attention, so he bit back a sigh and asked, "What is it?"Glee crescented her eyes, as she spoke with all the excitement of one who'd been waiting for a moment in anticipation. "My name is Jin Mahoro," she giggled, closing her eyes. "I'm looking forward to our time together too."
What a strange girl.
Arajin wondered what she would think of him knowing her name. Without explaining the involvement of her father, it would definitely lead someone to think he had other intentions. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of being caught in yet another one of Jin Masuzo's well-designed schemes. He couldn't tell Mahoro of his run-in with her father without potentially alerting her to the idea that he might have been a stalker, or worse. And in the long run, Jin Masuzo would likely escape without a hitch. Who would his beloved daughter believe in the end?Him, or a boy she'd only met a moment ago.In spite of her friendly demeanor, something in Arajin's stomach couldn't persuade him otherwise that the girl was completely harmless."Nice to meet you, Jin-san," Arajin answered as blandly as he possibly could. If all the girl wanted was his name then he would gladly give it to her, if anything so he could stave off the anchor that was being tied between them. If Jin Masuzo couldn't handle his daughter, then it was his burden to bear.To his dismay, however, Jin Mahoro was as hard to dismiss as her father. She leaned closer in his direction with her hair swaying as it fell in a thin drapery across her eyes. "You're very polite, aren't you?"Arajin dutifully kept his eyes ahead, watching Otomi-sensei wipe away the characters of his name."You know," she started with a rolling lilt to her voice before adding in a whisper that was loud enough for Arajin to hear but likely quieter than the rest of the room could perceive, "most boys here want to be cool so they act like puffed-up chickens. Like the one who wanted your bass, see his hair?"The corner of Arajin's lips twitched despite himself. He did remember it well, the bright red pompadour resembling a rooster's comb. Even the way it bobbed with the boy's head movements reminded him of a puffed-up chicken trying to showboat its way around a pen. He glanced in the trio's direction, covering his mouth when the pompadour wiggled as its bearer threw back his shoulders and arched his back with a cheeky grin. Averting his eyes was the best he could do to keep from outright laughing and drawing more attention to himself than he already did."You smiled a little," Jin Mahoro pointed out playfully, and Arajin brushed his hand against his mouth as though to wipe away the ghost of a smile hanging off his lips.He shook his head, reaching into his school bag for his textbooks just as Otomi-sensei started to write a few names on the board and a page number. "No, I didn't.""Did too," Jin Mahoro smiled slyly, "I saw it.""Then it was just your imagination," Arajin lied smoothly, waving her away as he nudged his glasses up his nose then took his history textbook out of the pile.Otomi-sensei called out amidst the ruckus, "Everyone, open up your textbooks to…", and Arajin followed suit despite his classmates continuing to ignore their teacher without a care in the world. He looked down at the paragraphs of black type-written text on bone white pages, brushing his finger across the scanned woodblock print of two muscular warriors locked in battle. His ears strained to pick up the sound of Otomi-senseis' voice amidst the din as he started to explain the day's lesson."Are you really going to study?"Arajin didn't look up from his textbook, but his eyebrows twitched with bemusement. Why else would he come here if not to study and hopefully leave? "Of course I am," he said.While the quiet 'and so should you' goes unsaid, he knows that she hears it as loudly as he does from the way her hum lost its mirth."But—""Jin-san," Arajin cut in, pursing his lips and glancing at her with flat eyes. He wouldn't allow her to be more of a distraction than she already was. Well-meaning or not. "I want to hear the lesson."Her lips puckered as she sighed loudly, turning her face away from him with a harrumph. "You're no fun."Arajin rolled his eyes, thinking for a few seconds before turning his attention back to Otomi-sensei. Even if Arajin couldn't exactly hear what he was saying, it was easy to read his lips with how much emphasis he put on each word to keep from stuttering.And if Arajin focused enough to keep his attention from the burn of eyes attempting to sear their brand into his back, he could almost pretend the day was as normal as it could be."Tomoshibi-kun, Tomoshibi-kun."Arajin blew out a sigh, thankful for the barrier that was his upright textbooks. With the lecture over for the day and Otomi-sensei dismissing what little of the class that was still around to listen to him, Arajin wanted to pack up as quickly as possible and head to the nearest park or better yet home. School started later than he thought and his lunch wasn't needed considering there wasn't time allotted for a break at such an hour. He supposed it would be leftovers for the next day, and dutifully thought of that as he packed away his belongings. Completely ignoring the fact that Jin Mahoro was crouched in front of his desk again with her chin resting on her hands, a cutesy smile gracing her lips whenever their eyes happened to meet when he turned his head.Eventually, he recognized that she wouldn't go anywhere unless he acknowledged her presence yet again and a ghostly prick of annoyance joined the others from the day's going-ons. Looking up at him with such bright eyes, practically begging for his notice, Arajin was faintly reminded of a cat. One of the ones who were well-groomed, kept, and collared but still took to the streets when their owner's back was turned to receive attention from the neighborhood. They were less likely to be turned away as a stray would be, and had a home to return to. There was no downside to their wanderings, and Jin Mahoro seemed to enjoy the treatment."What is it?" Arajin asked, closing his school bag before propping his head up on his hand.Her smile is almost mischievous, as though she knows he's aware of her game and is simply happy that he's choosing to play along. "Which way you are going?" She asks, and Arajin quirked a brow to tell her to continue. "If we're going the same way, want to walk home together?"A cold knot twisted in his stomach. There's something about her attentions and her focus on him that is almost unnerving in its insistence. Like she's attempting to wear him down for some reason, and he only battens down his walls that much more. "Jin-san," he started, wondering for a split second that she'd called him Tomoshibi-kun. "I know we met each other first but you should try to make friends with some of the others. Why not try with some of the girls in class?"He conscientiously attempted to ignore them since he overheard one of them calling him 'cute, in a nerdy way'. While having a girl's attention wasn't bad, Arajin didn't believe his track record with girls was exceptionally great. There was always something that was a little off whenever he tried to be closer to someone of the opposite sex. Either his eyes were too scary, his demeanor too cold, or he wasn't boyfriend-ly enough.Whatever that meant.Above all else, he was definitely not going to get mixed into a sukeban gang and be put on a pedestal as a trophy boyfriend. He almost wondered what Jin Mahoro thought of him too. What was she trying to win by attempting to befriend him?"Hm, I already know most of them from middle school," she said. "Besides, if Tomoshibi-kun just transferred here, then he doesn't have any friends, does he?"Arajin jolted at that, opening then closing his mouth with a grunt. He didn't want to tell her how spot-on she was. That his only friend was someone that he'd been attempting to avoid for the last five years, something she nor the person in question would never need to know. But the truth stared him glaringly in the face. Honki City was once his stomping grounds, and likely could still be in some ways, but the only people he'd gotten close enough to were the adults frequenting his family's restaurant as well as the ones he'd seen enough around town.If he was thinking about friends — there was Matakara, and only Matakara.Was that even a certainty anymore?"I'll be your first," Jin Mahoro chirped, seeming pleased with herself and Arajin could almost imagine the cat's tail flicking happily behind her. The thought of her being his first friend sours his stomach nonetheless, but he doesn't have the heart to correct her. It would mean saying someone else's name, of laying claim to something that he'd given up a long time ago. And he can't find it in himself to do either.He blew out a sigh, shaking his head at the offer. "Having a pity friend would be worse than having none at all, you know.""Hm," she hummed while leaning back with only her thumbs hooked on the underside of his desk to keep her from toppling over. "Then what if I show you my secret place first?"Arajin groaned, rubbing his fingers against his temples as the beginning of a headache cracked against the softer areas of his skull. Her insistence was like a battering ram and he loathed the idea of her finally getting into his head."We've been through this," he starts but the feeling of his glasses being lifted from his nose jumbled the words in his throat. His eyes flew open, hand paused in-between forming a claw to bat her away or snatch his glasses before they could leave his reach.For a second, his world is a bit blurry when the lenses moved out of focus, but then they right themselves and Jin Mahoro is smiling at him with their noses close enough to touch. She stared at him as though mesmerized, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. Then, her hand freezes just-so when it almost tangles in his hair and she snapped away from him as though he'd burned her. Pink dusts her cheek as she cradled her hand to her chest."Your glasses were crooked," she stated, as though it explained her stung expression or the way she avoided meeting his eyes.Arajin's mouth snapped shut, and his hand fell to his lap. The noise from their classmates filled the waiting silence between them but he couldn't consider what to fill it with. A thanks for her righting his glasses, or an admonishment for her getting so close in his space and feeling she had the right to touch him. He leant back in his seat to put as much distance between them as he possibly could, and held his breath to keep from inhaling the sweetness of her perfume. It matched her; cloying but in a way that one or two whiffs wouldn't hurt. He'd had his one, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what would happen if he indulged in another.Eventually, he cut his gaze to the window and scrubbed at the impression of her fingers against his temple. "You're kind of pushy, ya know that?""Do you hate girls like that, Tomoshibi-kun?" She asked, and the question caught Arajin off-guard.He knew that he shouldn't let his emotions show. That it would just give her another way to lure him in, but he also felt a little silly being so wary of a girl. It was her father that gave him the urge to throw his fist but when he glanced at her face, he could imagine why she was dear to him. She looked like the girl someone would want to protect. The one any guy would like to greet them after a hard battle, and press a cold compress to their cheek while telling them they'd won even if they'd totally gotten demolished. It was that aspect of her that set his teeth on edge.The apple never fell far from the tree, and he couldn't be certain how much of her was herself and how much of it was Jin Masuzo. But she was the one who'd slipped into his space, as easy as breathing, sly as a specter waiting to drag him into one unknown after another. She also handed him a compress, and tended to him when he hadn't known who she was and vice-versa… probably.Arajin turned his face toward her, watching as the afternoon sunlight illuminated her as she smiled down at him with her arms tucked behind her back. He couldn't say that he hated her but hate didn't have to be the only feeling there was.Did it?He shuttered his eyes, slanting his gaze away. "Never bothered to think about it.""Then," she started with a huff, and Arajin could see the tails of the ribbon tied over her chest bounce as she swayed up on her toes then back like a wave. He glanced up at her, curious but hesitant to face her entirely in case she tried to ambush him again. Instead, she leaned forward and smiled cheekily, "Tell me more on the way home."Arajin made a choked sound as she giggled, winking at him."I'll be waiting by the gates, okay?" She called over her shoulder as she turned around, practically skipping past his desk before making a beeline toward the opened door leading out to the hall.Arajin bolted up, his chair smacking against the desk behind him as he shouted after, "Wa— I never said that I would go!"He could've sworn that she heard her giggling, and clenched his fist tightly as he seethed. This was his fault for letting his guard down and taking a moment's pity on her.
That girl. She's just doing whatever she wants!
"Oi, shaddup," a slightly paunching, queasy-looking student whined from where he slumped over the top of his desk while his friend attempted to alternate between fanning them both. "I've got a killer hangover here, man."Arajin blew out a sigh, and slung his bass case over his shoulders before picking his school bag up by its handle. How possible would it be for him to take an opposite route and avoid the trouble of leading Jin Mahoro back to where he lived. The last thing he needed was to bring a stray - well-kept or not - home with him.
Why's she so focused on me anyway?
As he tucked his chair under the desk, and started toward the doorway, the conversations from around the room floated to his ears whether he wanted them to or not."There goes number thirty-five.""Already caught in the cage, poor little canary.""Wonder if he'll sing."Arajin tipped his head to one side. It sounded like pompadour and his cronies, but nothing they were saying actually made sense. He kept his eyes firmly ahead to avoid attracting attention but he wondered what they were snickering about.
Canary? Thirty-five?
It could have been more useless garbage, picking fun at him for carrying an instrument on his back without demonstrating how to play it. Wouldn't have been the first time but he felt sick of the idea already.
I'll leave it home until I can meet this Yamadera-sensei and convince him to let me join the light music club.
Arajin set down his right foot in another stride before his gaze snapped down instinctively, and he leapt over a long leg that'd been stuck out in his path. His case jostled against his back when he landed and he grunted lightly under the knock of it against the back of his head. His glasses slipped further down his nose and he righted them as he stood up, turning around with a slight frown.
Cute.
His eyes widened a fraction when Zabu pushed himself up from the chair he'd been sitting in, standing tall and self-assured with a smirk pressing into his cheek. He swung around on his heel with his hands stuffed in his pockets and eyebrow raised. Slowly, his gaze raked up and down Arajin as he asked, "Well, well, cozy enough for you here?"Arajin's gaze drifted from the top of Zabu's curly teal hair to the pyrite gold of his eyes, and the intent written plainly on his lips. There wasn't anything like recognition there. If Matakara hadn't told him who the letters were for, then what reason did he have to do this?The black and violet-accented name brand track suit he wore didn't give away any clues, aside from a potential dislike for someone who didn't care about brands. Though, Arajin couldn't imagine Matakara carrying about something like that. Most things with expensive tags fell off the back of a truck, were sold with hushed mouths and darting eyes, or had been cobbled together by their folks. That was just the way of people from their part of Honki City, but the blue and white armbands Zabu wore on either bicep weren't likely anything Arajin had seen in his youth.Arajin's heart thudded as he read the characters, and found the manji in the currents of the whirlpool they surrounded.
Minato Kai…
"You're…" Arajin whispered before he could catch himself, sucking in a breath when Zabu's eyes narrowed as he bent forward at the waist to lower his face closer to Arajin's."Hah? We met before?""Nah, I've got somewhere to be, so I'll—" Arajin tried his best to look anywhere but at that tart gaze, shuffling backward to put some distance between them. He wasn't about to admit that he'd been spying on their conversation from yesterday, but the difference between Zabu's open demeanor around his friends and this one was plain to the eye. What it was leading to was something that he definitely didn't want to stick around for, but as he spun around on his heel to take off toward the door, teasing brown eyes were right there.Komao snickered, pressing closer into Arajin's space which made him take one step back then another to keep from smacking their faces together. "C'mon, school just got out," he said with a laugh in the pauses between his words."Yeah," a hand enveloped Arajin's shoulder like a vice, gripping tight as Zabu whispered close to his ear. "Don't be so cold, man."Komao sidled close to his other side, poking at the neck of his bass case to push it aside as he leaned down to croon agreeingly, "Let's have some fun, Tomoshibi-kyun!"Arajin's fingers twitched against his chest, curling into a fist as he shucked his shoulder from Zabu's grip. "No thanks," he said, striding toward the open door briskly. "And keep your hands off me."He heard someone suck their teeth behind him, but paid it little mind until he was yanked backward by his case being pulled. Whirring around brought him nose-to-nose with Zabu who glared at him, gold hardened to umber. "What?" He asked mockingly, pitching his voice an octave until it shrilled. "Mad that it's not Jin-san?"Arajin's eyebrows raised, eyes wide as he searched for his voice to no avail. He should've known that the others would've been watching him even if he tried to keep his head down. No, more than that. While Jin Mahoro was a beacon for trouble, teasing about girls was just a thing guys tended to do. He cursed under his breath, warmth creeping up the back of his neck."It's not like that—!" He shouted, shooting a glare at Komao as the blond danced around while chanting, "Ooh, he's blushing. He's blushing!""Tch…" Arajin glared up at Zabu's smug look, and his blood boiled. Waves of torrid heat pulsated through his chest in ripples as the back of his knuckles prickled and stung. His nails dug into the palm of his hand, stinging as he tightened his fingers into a fist then swung his arm out. His wrist collided with Zabu's forearm, knocking his hand away and the smugness evaporated into surprise.The stragglers hanging around the classroom ooh'd and laughed, shouting a muddled array of words from goading to questions. Arajin couldn't hear any of them though, or rather he didn't want to hear them. His jaw tightened, chin jutting out as he lifted his head and repeated in a hiss, "I said, don't touch me."He turned on a snap of his heel, storming out of the classroom door with enough rage that he could practically breathe fire. What was with everyone here and getting into his personal space? If those two hadn't been Matakara's friends, he would've—"Hey, punk! Get back here!"Arajin's breath caught before he looked over his shoulder. Zabu bent the corner from the doorway first, walking after him with livid eyes and hostility in each step he took. Komao wasn't far behind him, calling out his name and running to catch up with him as he quickened his pace into a dash. Arajin cursed under his breath, wasting no time in taking off himself. People in his path moved or shouted loudly when he nearly mowed them down but he didn't have any intention of telling them he was sorry. This whole place was insane, and he just wanted to get home!"I said get back here—!" Zabu shouted, and Arajin grunted when he was yanked backward by his shoulder."Don't touch me," Arajin shouted, swinging his arm around in a full arc to shake off the hand grabbing at him.Zabu stumbled backward, avoiding being caught in the chest by his fist but as Arajin's arm came parallel with his body - something else caught his hand in its momentum. He grunted, pressing back against the force holding onto him but it only gave slightly and not without more than a small amount of effort."Bingo!" Komao cheered, crossing his arms behind his head as he sauntered up beside Zabu. "You're late, big guy. Zabu nearly got creamed."Zabu scoffed, sticking his hands in his pockets with a glare tossed in Komao's direction before a smirk curled his lips. He leaned forward a little, grinning at Arajin with a brow quirked. "You just happened to run into our big friend, your luck's not that good, huh?"Arajin seethed, unsure where his gaze should land as it darted wildly between the two in front of him. He chanced a look over his shoulder, gazing up with one eye at the tall figure looming behind him. As his eye traveled upwards, his heart sank into the pit of his stomach and his fist's trembling slowed to nothing. The world begins to fade at the edge of his vision, becoming grainy and grey while the one at the centerpiece is vibrant to the point of distraction.Messy, copper brown hair swept into an up-do of curved waves, driven by the wind or some unnamed force that kept them buoyed and swaying when he inclined his head like a curious puppy. He was much bigger than a puppy, though, or the little boy that used to hide within Arajin's shadow. But those eyes were unmistakable, holding every shade of blue and green within them until there was no telling whether they were from the sky or the earth below. Today, they were the color of sea glass — opalescent greens smoothly melded into blues as the sound of waves crashed in Arajin's ears over the thudding of his heartbeat.The sharp, red-hot scorch of rage licking at the back of Arajin's throat cooled as his lips formed the syllables of that name once. Then, with a voice hoarse from ash and soot, he tried again until he could hear it."Mata…kara?"It had to be Matakara, because there was no one else whose face matched so closely to the boy in his dreams. There were differences brought upon by time and life's choices, like the way his face lost the chubbiness from childhood and the cuff earring on his left ear Arajin could never imagine Mata having. The boy was afraid of a punch, most days, how could he sit through having his ear pierced?
He looks strong.
His hand loosened, lips almost twitching into a smile at the thought. Matakara had gotten stronger, but he hadn't been there to see a moment of it. And more than that—On the inside of his uniform's collar was the manji in a whirlpool's swirl. Arajin's mouth felt dry as he swallowed, holding his breath as Matakara leant closer to him as though to take in his face a little better. Arajin's stomach fluttered at the sound of that deep, rolling timbre like the sussurus of waves crashing against the shore inviting him in deeper as Matakara breathed, "Yeah? Who are…"Their eyes met, and Arajin feared for a split second that Matakara could hear his heartbeat or feel the sweatiness in his palm. His stomach flipped at the sharp intake of breath, the way Matakara's fingers wrapped around his palm and squeezed as he all but pulled him in. His breath warm against Arajin's forehead as he gasped, "Wait, Ara-chan?!"His eyes sparkled, and Arajin could see his whole heart In his eyes as plain as when they were children. He knew exactly what Matakara felt at a glance because the gateway to his soul was open to all and he bore it without fear of judgment. Because Arajin would never trample over his feelings, because he would protect that heart with his bare hands.What a relief it was that it was still in tact even after he'd abandoned his post."Is that you for real?" Matakara asked, jostling him back to reality as he reached out with his free hand to spin Arajin around by his shoulder so they were facing one another properly. Legs rendered to jelly from the shock, Arajin followed the instructions like a puppet with its strings pulled taut and let Matakara be the puppeteer to move him as he pleased. It didn't help with getting Arajin to work his mouth and explain that yes, he was who Matakara believed him to be. Or to ask him how and what he did to become the person that he was now.There was no question if this was Matakara.Transfixed on that face, Arajin felt as if he was seeing the future and past all at once. Peach-skinned, smooth without a single blemish and typically refreshed as expected from someone who lived at a bathhouse. That didn't explain how his shoulders had become so broad, and why the shirt beneath his unbuttoned uniform jacket pulled taut over his chest with each breath he took.Wait, why was he thinking about his chest?He snapped his eyes up to Matakara's face, frantic heartbeat slowing when he saw how flushed his face was. He knew what that look meant, and opened his mouth to tell him to hold on before an entire wall of Matakara came plummeting down onto him. Arajin struggled to even his breathing when strong arms wrapped around him tightly, sneaking between the gap of his case and his beneath his arms to entrap him in a tight embrace. Matakara laughed, bold in its loudness and the sound brings back a soreness in Arajin's chest like each note strikes the nail within his ribcage until it nearly perforated his heart. Matakara laughs like the boy in Arajin's memories, sweetly calling "Ara-chan!" In puffs of breath that warms the standing hairs against Arajin's neck.His arms shifted at Matakara's sides as he was torn between returning the embrace, as he would in the past, or trying to pry Matakara off him."I can't believe it! I visited your house last night, but oba-chan said you were resting so I didn't stay for long—" Arajin peered over the swell of Matakara's shoulders and frowned at the people watching them with a mixture of awe and confusion as they whispered to one another, and glanced in their direction — "I didn't know you would be coming to school here, so this must be the surprise she mentioned.""Wait a minute—" Zabu shouted, his voice overlapping with Komao's who yelled louder than his usual volume, "Hang on, is he—!"Matakara's entire body stiffened around Arajin then shifted as he drew back enough that Arajin could tip his head back to look at him. Over his head, Matakara's eyes darted back and forth as though he'd forgotten there were other people around. Then, they lowered and pinned Arajin into place. The curve of their upper lids slanted as Matakara's face went dewy soft, a smile melting onto his lips as he nodded, "This is my childhood buddy, Ara-chan."Arajin seized up, then averted his gaze as he righted his glasses from where they'd pressed uncomfortably against his face when Matakara all but sealed them together in his embrace. One that he'd yet to release Arajin from, now that he thought about it, looking down at the arms still wrapped around him. One of Matakara's hands flexed against his back, and Arajin swore he could feel his fingers apply pressure as though he wanted to push Arajin into his chest again."We trained to be Majin when we were little, it's been so long," Matakara said, his brows pinching together when Arajin scrambled against his hold to push his arms down and away from him. He ignored the hardened muscle underneath his grip and the way Matakara resisted his push for a split second before acquiescing, letting him step away from between the three crowding around him. As Arajin patted down his clothes, and straightened his things, the three continued talking amongst themselves though their eyes lingered on him."Ara-chan was super tough back then too," said Matakara, practically oozing admiration.Komao settled his hands on his hips. "Huh?" He drawled, dragging out the vowel before cackling happily, "He sure doesn't look it, right?""But that's ancient history," Zabu grumbled, sounding strangely bitter, "Isn't it?"
This guy's personality sucks but somehow he's said what I've thought deep down twice.
Arajin glanced up, incidentally meeting Zabu's eyes. It was as though he were looking to him for confirmation but Arajin only glared at him in return and averted his eyes.The fluttering in his stomach began to churn, and he laid a hand over it while turning away from them to face the window instead. For the umpteenth time since he'd left Honki City, he loathed the blueness of the sky. But this time, he felt the closeness of the boy who'd reminded him of how beautiful it had once been. There was no place for him up there in the vastness, where he could go anywhere and nothing could bring him down.
It's been five years since then, Matakara, can we even be considered friends—
Like there was no place for him here."Maybe," Matakara muttered wistfully, and Arajin's hand twisted against the frog clasps as pain lanced through his stomach. Then, a heavy hand clapped against Arajin's shoulder and he jumped before looking up to see Matakara smiling down at him with a tender quirk of his lips that shouldn't have settled the stirring tempest in his stomach. That should have made his heart ache enough that he wanted to throw him off, but he held onto Matakara's voice like a lifeline. Like the balm for a wound still festering, and bleeding, "But now that he's home, we can make new memories together."
Gods, why did he have to say that?
"I can't wait—" suddenly, Matakara's hand burned hot as a brand, and Arajin shied away from beneath the touch — "Ara-chan, we're going to the arcade now. Why don't you come with?"The invitation took him by surprise, and he mentally cursed because when did he become so easy that Matakara could catch him unaware. A lump rose in his throat and he only managed a muttered, "Huh?""We could play Forty Thieves again," Matakara offered, eyes alight as he gave Arajin a thumbs up, "I've been practicing so I can keep up with your crazy combos now.""Eh? So that's why you were playing that game so much?" Komao cried out, and Matakara rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh, "So it was training!"Matakara nodded. "Mn, you know the 'MAJIN' player?" He flicked a finger between himself and Arajin, glancing at him with pride and the way his eyes glowed made Arajin's heart still. "That's Ara-chan and me.""Ah!" Komao shouted. "Cause his name's Arajin, and you're Matakara."Zabu scoffed. "Way to state the obvious, genius."Arajin doesn't have to take a look at Zabu to know that he wouldn't be on board with the idea of Arajin being included on their plans, and Komao is a brightly-colored eccentric enigma. But Matakara is safe to look at at least for a short period of time before Arajin's senses kicked in, and he remembered the arcade. The way they would spend hours in the dimness, staring into the colorful screens of an old machine swallowing up their tokens like offerings to bestow them with a bit of reprieve from the outside world. On blistering hot summer days, beneath the dripping cool breeze of an air conditioner or trying to catch the pivot of a fan, they'd huddle together and play for hours.It was simpler back then, and Arajin's eyes drifted away as he tried not to seep into the allure of those gilded memories."Even if it's ancient history, we definitely left our mark. No one's beat us," Matakara said, and Arajin couldn't help the allure that was the mesmerization in his voice. The way it went soft, wispy like he was having a dream while standing fully awake. At times, when his voice took on that whimsical quality, Arajin wondered what was going on through his mind but he didn't have the heart to ask. He just liked having the opportunity to watch him, to see the way he looked when he was lost in his mind and happy to simply be.He was beautiful—
Stop.
Arajin tore his eyes away, letting out a breath through his nose just as Matakara tapped his shoulder for his attention and asked, "Ara-chan, have you been to Hama Bay since you've been back?"Arajin glanced at him, and he knew that he should have said something. That he had somewhere to be, that he should get going, but he didn't have the heart to lie to him. Not to Matakara. He tucked his chin instead, hesitating before muttering, "Well, no…"He wondered if he shied away enough, would Matakara give up on trying to reach out to him. Would he question why he was acting strangely, and decide that it wasn't worth his time to keep reaching out to someone who would not extend his hand to him in kind? But none of those things seem to reach him, because he smiled brightly and slung an arm around Arajin - instrument and all - pulling him into his side. "Hokinoue-san won't believe you're back! I can't wait!""Alright!" Komao yelled, sneakers squeaking inches haste to follow after them, "Hurry up, Zabu!""Hu— hang on! Kom-ah! Quit tugging me like that, dumbass!"Arajin nearly stumbled over his feet, sputtering, "Matakara.."A thousand thoughts pass through his mind. He thinks to shrug off the arm around him, to tell him that this wasn't a good idea and stop this before it could go on any further. But he looked up and realized his mistake was meeting Matakara's eyes, of looking at him and finding himself entranced by yesteryear and the boy who captivated him as easily as he drew breath."Let's go, Ara-chan!" Matakara said, his voice overlapping with the sweet dulcet ring of Mata.And Ara-chan grabbed hold of Arajin's hands, tugging his leaden feat to follow after the sound of his best friend's voice, for even in the abyss that'd grown to devour his stomach and heart Mata's light would guide him.Arajin curled his toes in his shoes, deciding against toeing them off to go wander across the hot dunes for a moment of relief within the ocean's cool shallows. It would definitely hurt his chances of seeming put-out by the unexpected drag halfway across the city. Matakara made it difficult to stay surly though. His insistence on paying for Arajin's train fare until he could acquire a pass of his own was the first straw. Every time they passed by something familiar in the bazaar, whether it was a shop with merchandise Arajin faintly recalled from childhood or a vendor peddling a snack that he hadn't tasted in years, Matakara was eager to swipe it up for him.Eventually, Matakara plied him with so many souvenirs that Arajin called for an immediate break so they could at least try some of them. Zabu seemed grateful for the break as his eyes bulged each time Matakara pulled out his wallet to pay for something, while Komao gave away little aside from a mischievous laugh here or there when Arajin looked particularly distressed. They took a seat on a stone staircase leading down to the beach for which Hama Bay was most known for. After bagging up most of the snacks, Arajin handed it over to Komao who dragged a grouchy Zabu to sit on the uppermost steps while they poured over their spoils. Arajin propped up his case and schoolbag against the steel railing before making his way down to the lowermost steps where sand dusted over them in a blanket of bleach white grain. He dusted it off before sitting down, stretching his legs out and resting his hands behind him to keep him from lying on the uneven steps. Sun-warmed stone burned pleasantly where its heat sept through his clothing, massaging the tautness in his muscles and loosening up his spirit enough for him to sigh. His eyes drifted shut as a seagull cried over the waves, blissful darkness welcoming him until something damp and cold brushed against his earlobe."..!" Arajin slapped his hand over his ear, jerking away from the cold sensation with an irritable snap of a glance at the can suspended near where his head had been. "Sorry, did I scare you?"His eyes trailed upward from the can, to the hand holding it, and at last Matakara's worried eyes. How could someone with such a huge, imposing frame like him act like a giant puppy? Arajin sighed, holding out his hand for the can which was passed over to him without ceremony. He tucked his arm close to him, wiping off some of the condensation while Matakara's sneakers scrabbled over the stone as he fit himself into the space beside Arajin. The stones had been wide when they were children, able to sit beside one another with enough space around them for others to pass since they always sat knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder. Now, Matakara had to practically realign himself onto the lowest step to keep from sliding off of it due to his bulk. His legs folded up against his chest, and he hunched over his knees with his arms folded across them to pillow his head.It looked uncomfortable to Arajin, but Matakara's eyes sparkled as he looked around the beach excitedly. His gaze inadvertently drifted back to Arajin and the excitement turned to surprise when their eyes met. Arajin realized, belatedly, that he'd been staring at Matakara the whole time and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from scowling as he turned his gaze back to the ocean. From his peripheral, he knew Matakara was watching him. Without even glancing in his direction, he knew from the way Matakara's gaze felt on his skin.It wasn't like the sun, where the rays would soak into his skin and tuck away its warmth within his pores as though giving them to him for keeps. Matakara looked at him like how the sea met the shore. Matakara's attentions came in waves — the foam from the gently rolling tide when blue eyes first landed tickled Arajin's skin and sent tingles from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Then, it was the coolness of the water and the way it would linger for a moment, wrapping around the objects within its path to take their shape and meld against them. Arajin wondered if Matakara was comparing the shape of him to the one whose person he'd entangled with years ago.If he was finding the differences, as Arajin had, and puzzled over them. If so, that would explain why Matakara's attentions lingered long enough that when it ebbed away from him, Arajin was left with a raw feeling of being seen. Though he couldn't tell for the life of him what Matakara thought. The waves lapped against the shore, and Arajin stared at the can of Pocari Sweat before looking over to Matakara. The wind tousled his messy hair further, and the heat from the day must've been getting to him with how flushed his face was. Arajin cracked open the can, gulping down half of the tangy, bittersweet liquid before swirling the can around close to his ear.
Looks like there's at least half left.
He stole another glance at Matakara before bringing the can closer to him, tapping it lightly against his ear. The reaction was almost instantaneous but for Arajin, it happened in slow motion. Matakara's eyes shot open wide, and he yelped, clapping a hand over his ear as he leaned away so quickly that he almost toppled over into the sand. Arajin jerked the can back to him to keep it from spilling, biting down on his bottom lip to muffle a laugh as Matakara stared at him with wide, scandalized eyes."That was cold, Ara-chan!" Matakara whined, righting himself on the step with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose.Arajin chuckled despite himself then set the can between them, nudging it toward Matakara before he leaned back on his hands again. "Serves you right."He didn't look to see whether Matakara had taken the can for himself, but he heard the scrape of tin against stone and pretended that he didn't notice. The salty ocean spray carried on the breeze combing Arajin's hair back from his face as he turned his chin up to the sky. His hand slid across the gravel and sand to prop him up while he settled into a comfortable position on the stone steps. For a moment, he felt like he'd been transported back in time where the warmth of the sun on his skin and the taste of the brine on the wind spoke of an afternoon filled with possibilities. He opened his eyes once the heat from keeping them closed began to sting, and blinked away the circles dancing in his vision. "I'm gonna take… this one!" "That's mine, you—""Hehe, too slow!"Further up the staircase, Komao snagged a pack of melon bread before wrestling it open with his teeth. The agitation in Zabu's glare shifted in a muted, subtle way that Arajin couldn't quite put his finger on. He didn't want to know why Zabu was perpetually angry with everything and everyone, or need him to like him for whatever arbitrary reason he decided not to. But Arajin was curious at the very least, wondering if the half-formed thought he'd gathered of Zabu was anything similar to the one sitting above him. He figured Zabu's ire wasn't usually directed at Komao or Matakara, not seriously anyway. The entire train ride, and most of their walk, the two had been trying to put as much distance between Zabu and Arajin as possible while stealing glances at each other and their friend. At least they weren't blinded by the allure of an outing, and the deluge of snacks to ignore there was a building tension between them.Still, Arajin wondered. What were they like when it was just the three of them? They seemed comfortable walking through the bazaar, and hanging out on the strip separating the main land from the island that was the backdrop of so many of Arajin's childhood memories. Perhaps Matakara brought them here to make new memories, and while they didn't overwrite the old, the length of time had buried theirs within the sands of time and left the new ones to grow and flourish under the sun. Zabu turned his head, as if realizing someone was looking at him and honed his attention onto Arajin. His eyes hardened and his lips pulled to one side as he turned his chin toward Komao again, staring down from the corner of his eye. Arajin knew a dismissal when he saw one, and blew out a breath before tucking his chin to stare across the white stands instead. He tried to find peace in the sprawling, tumultuous crystal blue of the sea and watch as the waves rolled beneath the sun. Fishing boats bobbed and ebbed on the water further from foaming tides rolling across the sea shore, leaving behind a number of shells and critters like a gift from the land below."Ara-chan," Matakara muttered, and Arajin turned his head toward him. "You always really liked the ocean, huh?"Arajin sat up straighter at the question, and tried to school his expression though he was sure from the way Matakara's eyes twinkled that he didn't do a very good job at it. "Er… well, something like that," he looked back toward the sea, mulling over it and the secrets within its depths that drew him back every time. "It's a bitch to travel across, though. I'd take the ferry any day over a ship."Matakara chuckled, "That's because you haven't ridden the ferry in awhile.""Guess so, huh?" Arajin huffed bittersweetly, tilting his head to rest his cheek against his shoulder. "But y'know, if you're gonna keep sneaking looks at me, you might as well say something."Matakara startled, and the look on his face is one Arajin hadn't seen in years. He's almost breathless at the sight of it or the way that the imperfections in his memory don't quite match up to the reality of it. The way Matakara ducked his head a little, only managing to hide his mouth behind his knees. With his hair cut short, it's easier to see the way the curve of his ear flushed and how it ribboned down to his throat before disappearing past his collar. His eyes don't look particularly teary, much to Arajin's relief, but there's a sheen to them that tugged at his chest. Like Matakara had been caught doing something shameful, and he was trying to make himself smaller to accommodate for it. "S-Sorry," Matakara murmured, and Arajin shook his head.He could hear the drag of his pants against the stone as he moved to come closer to him, then halted before drawing back into his space. "I'm not mad about it," he stated. "You're just easy to read."And it's strange, the ways that he still sees Mata in this boy who was nearly thrice his size and shared his name. In the back of his mind, Arajin knew that they weren't two separate people. They'd always been one and the same - but it still didn't stop him from looking at this Matakara and wondering when Mata changed. What parts of him were still there, and what others were Arajin merely seeing out of wanting to imagine they'd been. The five years between them spread out within a chasm, of memories missed and opportunities spurned. Arajin tucked a hand against his stomach, trying to massage the soreness from his ribs. "So? What do you wanna know?"A beat passed, then slowly Matakara raised his head from his arms and looked in Arajin's direction with such focus that it made the hairs on Arajin's nape stand on end. "When did you cut your hair…?"Arajin's face fell, and he sighed to himself.
Is that really what you wanted to ask?
He reached behind his head, dusting off the sand gritting between his fingers before he rubbed his palm over the shorter hair at the base of his skull. It was getting longer than he'd like again, but he hadn't noticed the difference stuck out that much. His mom had been receiving pictures of him since he'd left home, so her surprise hadn't exactly hit home. But for Matakara who hadn't seen nor heard from him in years, it must have been a shock to find him with short hair. Still, was that really the question to ask someone you hadn't seen in years? "When or why?" Arajin retorted, leaning back with his elbow braced on the wall of the step behind them.Matakara glared at him, but there's a mirth to it that dances in his eyes. There's also something else that Arajin can't quite place but it's gone before he can think of it any further. "Answering a question with a question isn't fair," Matakara said, bumping the heel of his sneaker against the side of Arajin's shoe.Curiosity clung to Arajin's skin but he nudged it away, knocking his heel against Matakara's sneaker. "I never said I would answer your question, y'know."Matakara bursts into bubbling laughter, and Arajin can't hide the smile that settles on his lips at the sound of it. "When did you cut yours?" Arajin asked, glancing up at the suspended waves of Matakara's hair with interest. "It looks spikier than it used to."Matakara rolled his eyes up, as though eh was straining to see his own head. When that didn't work, he reached up to comb his fingers through it, only serving to mess it up more than it already was."It just stands up like that on its own," he said with a sheepish smile, a wince in his nervous glance toward Arajin. "Does it look bad?"Arajin hummed, looking between his hair and his face. If it was as floppy as it was when they were kids, then it would be much harder to see his eyes. In fact, he might've looked like an overgrown sheep. Arajin covered his mouth, smothering a laugh. Matakara's mouth fell open and his eyebrows furrowed, lips plaintively forming the syllable of Arajin's childhood nickname. Before he can utter it, Arajin stated, "You can see your eyes better like this."Matakara's mouth fell open, his disgruntled expression smoothing out as he fussed with his hair for a second with a pleased smile. Arajin settled his cheek against his hand, rolling his eyes when Matakara's attention was diverted.The hairstyle did look good on him, but he was still far too easy to read. "It'll help you keep from tripping over your feet too."Matakara's face froze, turning from happiness to confusion then embarrassment. His cheeks ripened to a currant red as he shouted, "I-I haven't done that in a long time!" "Hm…" Arajin hummed, a sly grin pulling at his lips. "Yeah, I believe you."Matakara leaned closer to him, the emptied can of Pocari Sweat knocked over into the sand where they both pay it little mind. Arajin tipped his chin up challengingly, and Matakara's flustered expression worsens as he fidgeted a little as though he couldn't decide between retreating or staying where he was. The familiarity of it is enough to make Arajin's smile soften into something fond when Matakara stuttered, "Y-You can ask Komao and Zabu." He turned his head to look up where his friends sat, "Right?""Don't bring me into it," Zabu grumbled, twirling the stick of a lollipop whose blueberry treat was in the shape of a monkey's paw.Komao started tossing their wrappers in the bag before trundling it up, "What're you talking about?""How Matakara used to be a klutz," Arajin answered before Matakara could get more than an exasperated "Ara-chan!" out. He couldn't help himself when Matakara's face lit up every time they exchanged words, and the wonder crossed his mind of how long it'd been since someone aside from his parents had been this happy to see him. "Pfft, Matakara was?" Komao snorted, doubling over with the shopping bag clutched tight in his lap. "That guy's kicks could bend steel! Imagining him being clumsy is just…"Resigned to his fate, Matakara sighed, "Komao…" and playfully wilted further underneath his friend's guffawing laughter. "And what about you?"The question cut through the rapturous glee, and doused Arajin's stomach in ice water. His smile fell as he turned his head up to where Zabu stares down at him with something burning in his eyes. He takes the sucker out of his mouth with a pop, waving it around to point one of the monkey paw's fingers at Arajin. "What were you like as a kid, Ara-chan?"Arajin's hand twitched against his thigh. "Don't call me that.""Why not?" Zabu asked, leaning forward with his elbow propped on his knee and his chin in his hand. The sucker disappears in his mouth and his half-lidded eyes bore down into Arajin with the heat of an oppressive sun."Zabu—" Matakara tried to interject, but Zabu's voice eclipses his with a syrupy sweetness that harshly bites when it reaches Arajin's ears. "Matakara does. Since we're all buddy buddy, why can't I do it too, Ara-chan?"Komao's easy grin flipped into a sour frown as he leaned forward, attempting to whisper - Oi, Zabu! - though his hiss carried down to where Arajin stewed in his anger. The sand crunched under his feet as he stood, kicking up a small cloud of dust with a sharp heel turn that carried him with a momentum building as he walked up the stairs. Matakara called out to him from behind but he refused to turn around, keeping Zabu's gaze as he stepped onto his perch then strode past him. "Who said we were buddies?"Arajin kept his gaze low, unwilling to look at the passerby who arced out of his path as he crouched down to grab his school bag and sling his case over his shoulder. He fiddled in the pocket of his bag to find his glasses, pulling them on so that his stare would soften beneath the lenses. It wouldn't bode well if he scared someone mistakingly believing that his glower was meant for them. Truth be told, he wasn't sure who he was crossed with most.Zabu, for picking a fight with him for a reason that he was too cowardly to bring up in company.Matakara, for dragging him off his chosen course and bringing him on this unwanted trip down memory lane.Or was it, himself for allowing any of this to happen? "Hey, hey," a warm hand settled on Arajin's shoulder, and he almost knocked it away with pure frustration before it lifted and Komao bounced into his line of sight. "If we're done taking a break then let's head to the arcade, yeah?" There was a strain to his smile, and something there behind his eyes, but Arajin didn't know him well enough to figure out what it was. Weariness settled into his stomach as he watched Komao's eyes dart somewhere behind him before he clapped his hands over his head, the blue and white bands on his arms swaying as he danced further down the sidewalk. "This way, this way!"Arajin frowned, averting his eyes when another shadow passed astride him. Orange sneakers tracked a light trail of sand over the sidewalk, the beheaded stick left bent with a faint shade of blue where the paw once was. Arajin raised his eyes to look up at Zabu's back, the bands on his arms folded in close where his arms tucked at his sides, hands entrenched in his pocket. Komao slung his arm over his shoulder, pulling him in and they talked in hushed tones to each other, matching each other's strides easily.
So, that's what this is…
A presence sidled up to Arajin's back, hovering anxiously and he let his eyes slip shut as he waited for the words that were bound to come. "Ara-chan," Matakara started, breathy and wavering like it took all the breath out of him to say that much. Was this really the guy with a kick that could bend steel? "I'm sorry about Zabu. He's usually not this high-strung, and…"Arajin clutched his school bag's strap tighter. "You don't have to apologize for him, Matakara.""But—"Arajin inhaled sharply, whipping around and pressing up on his toes as he harshly bit out, "No buts, Matakara. You—" The ire sapped out of him when he stared up into blue eyes, deepened with regret and worried concern. Not for Zabu, but for Arajin himself. Slowly, he withdrew from the precipice and shook his head with a sigh. "Forget it," he said, turning on his heel to start after the pair leaning against one another so much that they might've fallen if either one of them moved. In contrast, Matakara wandered close enough to almost be at Arajin's side but further within his shadow than he would've liked. He clenched his fist at his side, ignoring the twisting in his stomach as he mumbled, "Let's get this over with."The rest of the trip to the arcade was relatively quiet. Matakara didn't try to start up conversation, although Arajin knew from the glances he felt now and again that he would have liked to. But Arajin wasn't in the mood to talk. Every time Komao looked over his shoulder to ensure they were still following, and waved for them to catch up when they were lagging behind, Zabu would follow suit and that knot in Arajin's stomach would tighten. "We're here!" Arajin lifted his head, eyebrows darting up his forehead at the sheer amount of people wandering about. Hama Bay had always attracted beach-goers, but the boardwalk was where vendors set up their shops and entertainers busked for the onlookers willing to throw a bit of money in their cases. Arajin tugged at the strap of his case when he caught the tune of a ney with its steep, quarter tones and inflections as the player pitched to the delight of the clapping crowd. Sunlight streaked across the concave hanging of scarf-covered stalls, their bright colors attracting young children and adults alike to haggle for pepper-roasted, spiced meats and refreshing drinks fetched from a pitcher or deep within a cooler. Arajin looked up to the thick, stone walls of Hama - the multi-storied indoor market. A staircase leading up to the inner depths of the market where the arcade lied on the topmost floor alternated in colors from reds to purple and blues. The "entrance gate" was nothing more than a hang-out spot for a few of the elderly, taking a reprieve from the beating sunlight to exchange a pipe giving off colorful smoke with each inhale they took. Matakara wandered up to one of the men, waving away the smoke as he bowed low then asked, "Excuse me, is Hokinoue-san in?"The men turned to him, bleary-eyed then exchanged glances with one another before muttering in Arabic. At last, the one closest to Matakara spoke to him in a heavily-accented Japanese, "He went to pay his respects."Matakara's eyes softened as he tucked his chin, nodding once. "I see," he said, looking back to Arajin whose shoulders tensed at the unspoken apology in his eyes. "I'll come see him another day," Arajin lied, unsure of how convincing it was when the corner of Matakara's lips pulled taut then slackened as he nodded again. They walked together toward the staircase where Zabu was leaning against the wall, covered in the shade it provided. "Where's Komao?" Matakara asked when they were close enough that he didn't need to yell for Zabu to hear him. One golden eye cracked open, and after a second of hesitation, he blew out a sigh before nodding his head to the left where the cheerful melody of an ice cream peddler rose over the crowd's chatter. "There's an ice cream stand nearby. That guy's a bottomless pit, so he went to get one." Matakara gasped, turning to Arajin. "We should get one and split it," he offered with a smile, eyes scrunched up in delight. "What do you think Ara-chan?"Arajin kept his focus on Zabu, meeting the coolness of his stare with a muted one of his own. "I'm good," he said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet before fishing out a note or two. He folded it into Matakara's hand then elbowed him in the side until he faced the crowded, sun-lit streets. "You go ahead and get yourself something to drink."Matakara looked back at him over his shoulder, glancing between them worriedly. Frustrated, Arajin widened his stance somewhat and gave his best look to tell him to get going. "Okay, okay," Matakara muttered sheepishly, "then why don't you get warmed up? I'll be right behind you two with Komao.""Yeah…" Arajin muttered, watching him go until the crowd swallowed him up from sight. Zabu watched him quietly in return, eventually dropping his head with a low groan. He kicked away from the wall, sneaker scuffing over the concrete as he turned and made his way up the stairs. It was oddly the least hostile that he'd been throughout the short period of time they'd known each other, and yet instead of soothing his nerves, such an act of civility raised Arajin's hackles further.He looked over his shoulder before following Zabu up the steps. When they reached the landing, the darkness within the arcade enveloped them and Arajin breathed in the air's thickness. A coppery scent hung in the atmosphere from the aged tokens traded between hands, rolled accidentally beneath machines, and dispensed through an old slot machine reconfigured to take currency in exchange. Arajin tucked a few coins into the slot, pulling the trigger to shut it before the machine rattled and groaned before spitting out coins into the little bowl at the bottom. He scooped them up, looking up at the panther's head at the top of the machine and its glowing yellow eyes which had lost some of their fluorescence. Now, one of the eyes were lighter than the other and the panther's maw had gathered dust around its fangs. The sign hanging over the panther's head, reading in bold neon yellow wording with white wisps of smoke curling between the letters read: Kiseki no Dōkotsu.
Honestly, it's a miracle this place is still standing.
Arajin tucked the coins in his jacket pocket before turning around to the rows of glowing screens. Thin patterned carpet stretched over the concrete floor beneath cushioned his footsteps as he wandered, letting his eyes adjust to the bright neon-colored signs and the colorful pictures illuminated on the side of machines enticing players to try their hand. A pair of kids ran past him, laughing and shouting as they approached the receptionist's counter where the whining clunk of the fan pointed directly down at the tired-eyed young adult slumped over the counter drowned out their yells. He wasn't sure where Zabu disappeared within the den but he wasn't keen on crossing paths with him now that there wasn't a buffer. Instead, Arajin focused on the layout and let muscles memory guide him to a machine tucked within a corner next to a bookshelf filled with game cases haphazardly stacked atop of one another. The machine had definitely seemed better days, with its blue cabinet having lost the lustre it once possessed when he and Matakara spent their days sharing a stool while leaning the cabinet for better footing. Now, the painted stars, and rolling sands chipped off on its sides and the red and blue controls beneath the wide screen rusted along their bases. Arajin dragged over a stool and plopped down, propping his case up against the wall with his schoolbag before feeding his tokens into the slot. He heard the hum of the circuits and saw the flicker of electricity behind the screen before the machine hummed to life. He followed the tiny, pixelated adventurer traversing the desert on the back of a camel beneath the watchful gaze of the North Star. Counting down in the back of his mind before the title fluttered across the screen, carried on the back of a flying carpet.
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.
Arajin glanced down at the controls, situating himself in the middle so both sets would be within easy reach. He pressed the purple 'starter' button, and watched as Ali Baba sped off toward the mouth of a panther-headed cave. Though before he could run his camel into its jaws, the beast of burden buckled and tossed its rider off before sprinting back the way it'd come. Arajin cracked a smile as Ali Baba peeled himself off the ground, sputtering sand then shaking his fist at the camel before marching into the amber light emanating from the panther's mouth.From there, it was a mix of muscle memory with brief flashes of surprise when a particular scene or enemy popped out of nowhere. He guided Ali Baba through the traps set by the thieves and helped him evade the sentries standing watch at the multiple twists and turns within the cavern. Defeating each of the forty thieves with only three lives would take time and patience, but a voice that sounded a lot like Mata told him that they could do it.
We're unbeatable, huh?
"You're really good at this game, huh?"Arajin's fingers skittered over the button beneath his palm and he clutched the blue stick tighter. Ali Baba scampered across the screen, chased by three thieves bearing swords with only Arajin's quick movements to guide him through the tunnels to avoid them. They were quickly gaining on each side and he pressed his focus into the game, attempting to find the opening that would lead to the level's weapon cache. It was a better use of his time than entertaining Zabu.A shadow passed by out the corner of his eye, and a dull thud against the top of the game's cabinet nearly drew his eyes upwards until one of the thieves swiped at Ali Baba and stole one of his lives. Arajin grimaced, waiting as the game re-loaded with a narrowed eyed stare leveled at Zabu who at least had the decency to look somewhat apologetic. "Look," Zabu started, looking everywhere but at Arajin as he leaned against the machine with his knuckles rapping against the top of it. "Feels like we got off on the wrong foot.""Which one?" Arajin asked dryly, focusing on the screen as Ali Baba re-emerged whole and hearty. While it was hard to discern his expression from the pixels making up on his face, Arajin wondered if he was just as annoyed as him. "The one you tried to trip me up with?"Zabu opened his mouth with a half-suppressed curse, and Arajin snapped his gaze up briefly to meet his eyes before looking back to guide Ali Baba from cover and toward where the weapon cache potentially would spawn. "What I'm saying is, it's my bad. I didn't know you were one of Matakara's buddies from back in the day."Arajin clutched the blue ball top tight enough that his hand strained around it. He counted his breaths, made sure they were evened out before counting more. His voice evened out and flattened as he waited while the thieves wandered around the maze in search of Ali Baba. "Would it have made a difference?" "Course it would," Zabu said, and there's something in his voice that gives Arajin pause. "After all, Matakara's my friend."Arajin's eye twitched, and his heart leapt when one of the thieves turned a corner and spotted Ali Baba. There was a wall next to the path and no way to maneuver him out of the dead end before they were upon him and the pixelated blood spilling from his prone form filled the screen once more before the countdown for the next load started up. Zabu sucked his teeth. "Damn, bad luck huh?" He pushed off from the machine, giving the top a swift pat before strolling past Arajin with his hands tucked in his pockets. "Wait here, I'll get another round of tokens on me."When the sound of his footsteps faded, Arajin's hand slipped off the ball top to fall uselessly in his lap. He stared at the countdown with dull eyes, a sigh escaping his lips.
What am I doing here?
It was obvious what Zabu was trying to say, even if he did it in a way that was completely roundabout. To him, Arajin was one of Matakara's friends back in the day. That didn't mean anything when it came to the present. It was old news, ancient history, and above all else - it didn't make up for the things that he'd done. Zabu didn't seem thick-headed like some of the other students at their school. He must've put it together that the person Matakara had been writing to without a single reply was the same one who'd waltzed back into his life, laughing and carrying on like nothing happened. Arajin's stomach turned with disgust and he pressed his hand to his chest as he sank down, resting his head against the controls with quavering eyes staring down at the carpeted floor. The lights from the other games cast shadows beneath his feet which stretched longer as passing shadows from other patrons blotted out the glare for a split second. Arajin brought his hand up to his mouth, covering it to keep from making a sound as he swallowed down the bile surging up at the back of his throat. It tastes wretched and nostalgic, like the sting of ointment against his wounds and an ice cream bar passed between the hands of two boys who could only afford one but didn't mind sharing.A bubbling agony burdened his stomach and tears push up against his eyes, blood rushing in his ear as he tried to put it all away. The yearning glances, the wanting to live within that memory for a second longer. To trick himself into believe that he could be the Ara-chan Matakara wanted.He'd always done his best to grant his wishes, but this was one he didn't know if he could even begin to cobble together an answer for. "Well, well, if it isn't mushroom boy…"Arajin's fingers pressed against his cheeks, sealing his palm against his mouth but he feels the impression of his teeth from how tightly he grasped his face. That nasally, wretched voice was the absolute last thing he wanted to hear. And yet, he was grateful for it in a way. He'd almost reached his limit. He slipped his glasses off his face, folding and tucking them in the pocket of his uniform jacket before sitting up. Mistakes numbered in the forefront of his mind: first, sitting in possibly the worst position, which was with his back facing the crowd and the machine cutting him off from being able to maneuver forward. It gave the three silver rats an opening to crowd around him, boxing him in from all angles in a dead end.Secondly, as he peered through the black screen requesting another token to be inserted, the gap between the one at his back and the one at his side showed the two kids from earlier playing at one of the machines. One of the boys tugged the arm of the other, and they both looked in their direction but one of the silver-wearing delinquents must have snapped at them because the boys quickly averted their attention with a yelp. Arajin's eyes narrowed, drifting to the corner of his eye when a hand bearing a silver ornate ring landed on his shoulder. "And it seems you're in school now. Congratulations," the snide remark punctuated with a squeeze, bony fingers pressing into his shoulder blade hard enough to smart. "Ichizu, right?"
These guys talk a lot.
The one leaning against the machine pressed in closer to Arajin until he was practically nosing against his hair. He released a pent-up breath, scoffing as he pulled back and waved his right hand which held a long rectangular object. Arajin turned his chin a bit to have a better look at it, narrowing his eyes to slits at the sight of a grey paddle emblazoned with a black unicorn's head. It sported nicks and cuts as well as a garish dark red splotch that seemed to ooze under the arcade's neon lights. "Doesn't look like he's with Minato Kai or Siguma, neh aniki?"
So they're a rival gang, likely not from this side of town. Haven't seen their colors at Ichizu, so they must not be much to think about.
"But you waltz in here to play like you own the place?" Spittle landed on Arajin's cheek and he closed his eyes tightly. Red gathered at the edges of his vision where the circles dancing against the back of his eyelids turned to embers. His heart pounded in his ears as the stirring anger at his core licked at his insides, hungry flames devouring each word while sweeping over his bones and into his muscles with a blinding heat. "A piece of trash dirtying up the seat of honor, you've got to be kidding me."A blunt-edged object prodded Arajin's right shoulder, and he let himself sway with the pressure. He rocked back upright, half-guided by the hand on his left shoulder and the deep-seated concentration keeping him remaining in his seat. His foot started to bounce against the floor and the frog clasps caught within his claw-like grip pressed their impressions against his fingers. "You think you can piss all over our turf, enoki?"The prodding against his right shoulder relented as another hand joined the first, and he felt a lanky body pressing closer to his back. A shiver coursed down his throat and he willed himself not to move, not to react, not to look up as he imagined the gaunt-face adorned with a grin. "Now now, luckily we're a forgiving sort," the hold on his shoulders tightened, intensified as though the one holding onto Arajin was trying to push him down into the stool itself. "Since you're our hundredth catch, we'll treat you nicely."Arajin took in a deep breath, exhaling through his nose before he opened his mouth with a mirthless chuckle. "Y'know, people have been real comfortable with touching me as of late—" He brushed out the wrinkles in his shirt before letting his feet fall to the floor as he braced himself. "— I let it slide earlier because it was someone I used to know and his friends. But I've been holding it in so long, I dunno if I can keep it back any longer."He opened one eye, catching the way the boy leaning against the machine curled his lips in a cruel grin. He laughed, patting the paddle against his thigh with a shake of his head. "What're you gonna do," he gasped, covering one of his eyes with a hand with a mock graveness to his voice. "Release the hidden dragon sealed in your body?"
You know, I wonder…
Arajin glanced to his right as the other who spat when he talked cackled, "Maybe he's one of those — y'know, with the middle grade syndrome?"
How long is this guy going to keep his hands on me?
"A chuuni enoki?" The paddle-bearer squeaked out, snickering.
His breath fucking stinks!
Arajin clenched his teeth as he jerked his head back, sharply knocking the back of it against the chin of the delinquent holding him. He heard a loud cry, sole scrabbling over the carpet and the sharp cry from one of the others still bracketing him on either side. He wasted no time, however, kicking the stool from beneath him. It landed on the foot of the spitting boy and Arajin swung his fist knuckles-first into his mouth, bouncing his head back against the wall behind him. He heard the cry from the paddle-bearer and turned sharply on his heel, ducking under the wide-swing that'd been aimed to crack against his head. His fist curled, arm cocked back before he drove it into his assailant's gut. The boy choked, spatting out either saliva or something close, but Arajin cared little as he grabbed him by the collar and belt and threw him to the ground. He straightened up, panting as he looked around. He stopped short of the two, small faces watching him from around one of the games. Both boys with terror in their eyes looked between the teens rolling at his feet, bracing themselves and groaning with pain, then up to him. Arajin swallowed hard when one of the boys stood in front of the other as though to block him from view. Their school backpacks nearly dwarfed them in size with how small they were.
They couldn't be older than a grade school student.
Arajin opened his mouth to say something, to assure them that he didn't mean any harm, that it would be alright - but he couldn't do it. He wasn't sure if he believed it himself. As the gaunt-faced delinquent they referred to as "Aniki" began to pick himself up, Arajin looked into his ink-dark eyes and found determination alighting them. It wouldn't stop only with this, and if they got even worse then those kids might be dragged into it. Let alone the other visitors who hadn't yet caught on to what happened."… I'm sorry," Arajin whispered. He wasn't sure who he meant to give the apology but he could think of innumerable reasons to offer it. He glanced at his belongings in the shadow of the Forty Thieves' game cabinet, then turned his back on them as he sprinted down the aisle. Behind him, the gaunt-faced one shouted, "Get back here!"His hands shook as he turned sharply around the rows, ignoring the shouts from other visitors mowed over by his romping and the blur of voices questioning and calling questions he hadn't the mind to answer. Sunlight illuminated the staircase from below, coaxing Arajin to its sanctuary as he stepped onto the landing but his senses told him to look off to his right. That someone was watching him, closer than the panicked and flustered glances of the people he'd stormed past in his haste. He turned his head, legs still mid-motion and stared at the receptionist counter where the attendant was wide awake in the midst of shouting into an old landline while gesticulating wildly.His image faded into the background, as did the rest of the arcade's din as the one leant against the counter with drink in hand and golden eyes lazily rolling up to meet Arajin's remained in full focus.
That guy…
Arajin stumbled down the first step, huffing from exertion and staring back at Zabu with disbelief. Did he know?Did he plan this?A thousand questions rushed through Arajin's mind but he didn't know what to expect, or whether Zabu would actually answer them. It didn't matter either because the second he thought to breathe his name to ask something — anything — there was a commotion from behind. Familiar voices shouted, unfamiliar ones cried out in pain and the attendant's shouts into the receiver for the police to arrive reminded Arajin of what he needed to do. Where he needed to go.He turned around just as the gaunt-faced one broke through the crowd, head swiveling wildly with nostrils flaring like a mad dog. "There he is! Stop right there!"Arajin sprinted down the steps without looking back, nearly jumping down several at a time. His knees ached from the impact shooting up from the soles of his feet but it wasn't until he'd reached the sand-dusted tiled flooring at the bottom of the staircase that he dropped into a tumble. Shocked gasps, and murmurs arose from the crowd as he picked himself up and dusted himself off before looking behind him. "Don't move! Hey!"Arajin cursed under his breath, looking around at the crowd in front of him. They were going to get caught up in something that would definitely get them hurt. His stomach twisted at the thought and he gritted his teeth before turning on his heel, kicking up a cloud of dust in his dash into the crowd. He elbowed and nudged his way through, pushing and parting the path in front of him until he tumbled out on the other side. His breaths came out in heaves, stomach twisting as he heard the three delinquents attempting to break their way through the crowd. Though it was with less tactful movement, and more shouting at the people in their path to move. The urge to leap back into the crowd and yank them out one by one crossed Arajin's mind but it wouldn't serve his purpose. They didn't strike him as the type who would be likely to fight fair, and he wouldn't be able to protect himself and someone else. He bounced on his heel at the first sight of silver and turned around, breath hitching at the sight of the island.
The shrine…
"Over there!"Arajin glanced behind him, then tightened his hands to fists as he took off in a sprint. The boardwalk which turned into a natural bridge connecting the island to the mainland wasn't far from Hama Bay, but Arajin could hear his pursuers panting and huffing while railing insults at his back. Their lack of stamina curled his lips in a self-satisfied smile, though his stomach felt cold the closer he'd come to the island. He wondered if it was Matakara's reason to bring him to Hama Bay, or if it was an added boon to the nostalgia trip they'd cut short. But the moment his mind wandered to Matakara, he shook the thought free and pressed on through the overgrown unkempt grass and up the stone path that'd he'd wandered through year after year. His feet knew the way, even though his eyes were unaccustomed to the way everything looked aged. The trees lining the stone path stretch high toward the sky until they resemble the tall posts of the tori gate Arajin passed under. His footfalls slap against the cracked stones, weathered by rainfall and time, with grass shoots sprouting up from the fissures with wildflowers and weeds to join them.The pagoda is a welcomed sight. While the red paint has chipped and flecked over the years, it remains vibrant and strong against the elements. The statues of a foot and fist, adorned with a moon and sun respectively, reminded Arajin that this was a place for warriors. His stomach twists as his legs begin to slow when he reached the doors, hesitating before pulling them open. A prayer offered to the spirits dwelling within the land for the chaos he brought to their doorstep, and a promise to end it quickly as they would.He almost scolded himself for adhering to a legend, a fairy tale that he'd grown up on as a child. But respect to the otherworldly had been ingrained in him from the time he was young, and while the Buddha had never answered his prayers, to worship strength was as close as religious as he would ever be. Arajin shut the doors behind him, hearing the roaring war cry of his pursuers. The sudden onset of quietness startled Arajin, for once the doors shut, the inner chamber welcomed him with its stillness. Colorful food wrappers, crumpled beer and soda cans, and empty bottles of One Shot to Kill liquor litters the ground. The floorboards are uneven as Arajin walked along them. He hesitated on the floorboards that seemed to have rotted through, sinking beneath the weight of his step until he shifted to find another to balance himself on. Grass sprang up from between the floorboards, swaying on an unseen breeze and Arajin turned his face up to the altar with heavy-lidded eyes as he eyed the ornate chests set on either side. He stepped closer before hesitantly moving back, eyeing the boxes with vague interest. When they were children, he'd played a game with Matakara to see if they could guess what was inside of the boxes. Neither of them had the courage to try and touch them because their parents would undoubtedly scold them if they were to disturb the resting place of the spirits within. And they'd both learned the stories by heart enough to know that it would be a bad idea to attempt.But Arajin couldn't help but wonder what would happen if it was open, and what lied within that required so many ofuda to keep it sealed. He stepped forward again, narrowing his eyes as he peered closer at the box inlaid with gleaming golden moons around its sides. The meager rays of sunlight managing to breach through the temple's shuttered windows illuminated the box and Arajin stepped forward, almost within a trance as he examined the paper tags along its seams.The cinnabar shone as if they'd only recently been drawn but the middle of the tags were strange. "Come out, damn it!"Arajin jumped at the yell, whipping his head around at the hammering bangs against the door. His heart thundered as he looked back to the altar then glanced down as he drew his glasses from his pocket then set them between the chests. While his pursuers banged against the door, shouting obscenities and rage, Arajin sank down to his knees before the altar and clapped his hands before lowering his head to a bow. He took deep measured breaths, clearing his head from the squalls of those behind him and the turmoil stirring inside.
I didn't want to start trouble.
His mother's face flashed across his mind's eye when she bid him farewell that morning, followed by that of Otomi-sensei and Jin-sensei.
But somehow it keeps following me.
Jin Mahoro came to mind next, smiling wit her fingers wiggling in a wave while the faces of his classmates piled high behind her. They laughed, mocked, looked with disdain or indifference before being whisked away.
I would've been satisfied with just staying to myself, not talking to anyone. Not doing anything. Not being anything. But I stepped out of it anyway, like an idiot—
Then when Ara-chan is in danger, I'll come and save you.
Mata smiled in front of him, radiating the gentle warmth that once soothed Arajin's heart and welcomed him with open arms. Then slowly, he turned taller and broader, until Matakara stood in his place with his hands outstretched.
If this is my punishment, so be it.
"Open up!"
Wood cracked and splintered, and Arajin whipped his head around to find a gaping hole. One of the delinquents peered through the opening before fitting his hand inside to knock away the plank of wood keeping the doors barred. Arajin's heart thundered as the wood fell to the ground and the door was unceremoniously pushed open by the gaunt-faced one's laces.
How dare you…
Arajin climbed to his feet, legs trembling as he took a step then another. When a white, silver-heeled shoe stepped on the wood plank then kicked it off to the side, his heart plummeted. "What a joke…" The one called 'Aniki' groaned, smiling cruelly when he looked upon Arajin. The sunlight flooding from behind them lacked its usual warmth, feeling cold against Arajin's skin as his knuckles itched. "A mushroom running to a damp, dark place. Seems pretty fitting, don't ya think?"The one holding a paddle twirled it, laying the flat of it against his shoulder with a cheeky grin. "That's where they grow best, aniki." "Oho, so he just ran on home, huh?" 'Aniki' said, to the amusement of the two behind him. Tucking his arm at his waist as he swept low into a mock bow, "Pardon the intrusion then, enoki-kun."Arajin shrugged off his uniform jacket, throwing it aside to the oohs and deriding tease of the three before him. He took a deep breath, white coloring his breath when he exhaled. Strange, it wasn't that cold was it? He couldn't tell the three of them apart too well with how similarly they were dressed, but the one who spat when he talked had pulled a purple and silver belt from his pants loops - so Arajin focused his attention on him first. "Put down the belt and paddle." His attention slid in the direction of the stocky paddle bearer. "If you're going to come in here, at least show some respect."The three seemed somewhat confused, exchanging glances with one another as he continued."This is a shrine for warriors who threw away armor and weapon to fight with nothing but pure strength," Arajin said, the itching beneath his skin becoming almost unbearable as the heat thrumming through his body cracked and ached his throat. "Don't bring anymore shame onto yourselves by bearing a weapon on their grounds."A breeze swept through the inner chamber, as if agreeing with him, and Arajin lifted his chin to face it as well as glowering at the gaunt-faced boy who tutted as he looked to the two behind him. "They won't have to worry much," he said with feigned cheer, his voice dropping to a menacing purr, "But you'll apologize to them for us, won't you?"Arajin clenched his fist at his side, eyes flicking between them as they advanced closer, beginning to spread out around him. The one holding the belt in a whip-like motion, pulling it taut then giving it slack snickered as he rounded on Arajin's right side. "How precious. You really believe in that old legend?" He goaded, snapping the belt once. "Does your mommy read your fairy tales before you go to sleep?"Arajin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, swinging his fist just as the delinquent breathed, "Old ha—!" His words cut off with the crack of a fist connecting with flesh and bone, the damp thud as the force between Arajin's punch was absorbed by his mouth was oddly satisfying. For a split second between when the delinquent reeled back from the punch and the others shouted, moving in to protect their companion, Arajin felt a rush.It was sickening. "Wa—" The one called 'Aniki' shouted, reaching out to grab Arajin. His outstretched hand grasped in Arajin's before he was yanked forward into a punch aimed directly between his pectorals. A ragged, wet cough escaped him as he doubled forward, grasping onto Arajin's shoulder until he was shoved to the ground. The paddle bearer cried out, "Aniki!", trembling as he looked between his gasping leader and the other who was holding his mouth while crying that something had broken. His breathing quickened, tears gathering in his eyes as he yelped when a hand twisted in his collar and jerked him around to face Arajin "Let me go!" He shouted, as he swung the paddle and nearly caught Arajin in the head with it. He let go of the jacket in his hand, stumbling backward with the back of his hand rubbing against the underside off is mouth as the paddle bearer brandished his weapon with his teeth gritted in frustration. Arajin tipped his head slightly, making a beckoning motion with one hand before he lunged forward.The paddle bearer cried out as he swung in a wide arc. Sole scuffing against the floor, Arajin evaded the blow with a twist and swung his fist backwards. It struck against the back of the paddle bearer's head, making him stumble forward with a pained cry. He didn't have an opportunity to raise his paddle again to defend himself, or whirl around to grasp any part of Arajin, so distracted he was with his pain. If he was an actual warrior, he wouldn't have buckled under something so minor. The thought settled in Arajin's mind, and he wondered if it was his or if it was an effect of standing in such a place. One that was sacred, belonging to the effort born from the cultivation of one's body. The heel of Arajin's shoe met with the back of the paddlebearer's knee as he swept his legs out from underneath him then drove his fist between his shoulders, flattening him to the ground with a gasping cry. Arajin heard a clatter, and looked at the paddle that'd fallen out of his slackened grasp. His eyes narrowed with disdain as he kicked it away until it skittered into the shadows from the shrine doors. Arajin lifted his head, looking out toward the path leading to the mainland. The setting sun turned the white sand golden, and the city itself was bathed in an almost picturesque light. His eyes softened until he looked down to his hands, and the scratches on his palms as well as the reddening blisters threaten to open at the back of his hands. I did what I had to do, he thought to himself, but it was the ease of It that startled him more than anything. "Don't move!"When he lifted his head once more, Arajin stared at the setting sun and closed his eyes with a hint of regret. He turned slowly, hearing the rasping breaths and the wet cough as he turned around. One of the boxes from the altar laid on the ground now, likely pulled from its place with how it laid open and bare. Arajin's skin crawled with the heresy of it but the brewing argument died on his tongue when the gaunt-faced delinquent brandished an ornate, flintlock pistol bejeweled and bright with its barrel pointed directly at Arajin. Arajin glanced around him at the fallen boys on either side before holding out his hands, confusion plain on his face. "What're you gonna do with that?" He asked, tipping his head when 'Aniki's' eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Did he really think that he was going to get away with killing someone?Or that the gun would work? It likely hadn't been fired in who knew how long, and wouldn't even budge. But the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he stared down the dark barrell."Wh-Whaddya think, asshole? Get on your knees, now!""Feel tough with that gun in your fist?" Arajin asked, his voice cool and eyes half-lidded as the disgust nearly made him want to leap out of his flesh. 'Aniki sputtered, "Do you think I'm fucking around?!" His hand trembled, making the gun's waver unsteadily. His wheezing breaths harshened as he clutched at his chest and pressed further against the wall when Arajin took a step closer."I'll warn you," Arajin said. "If the bullets in that gun aren't dust yet then you'll likely only have one shot…." He held up a finger for emphasis, lowering his voice to a spiritless vigor, "Cause if I live, I promise you that I'll beat the life out of you the first chance I get."Though the words came from his mouth, he wasn't sure why or how he could have spoken them. But he felt it deep within his chest, twisting and rummaging around from the moment that their paths first crossed. If only he'd finished what he started then and there, then perhaps they wouldn't have ended up here. But that was the same with many things as of late, wasn't it?"You think I'm a joke—" 'Aniki' shouted, wheezing and gasping for air as Arajin stalked closer to him. "Don't come closer! Don't—!" A click sounded before the air crackled and burned with the deafening ring of a gunshot. Arajin stepped back, watching as a red-hot vapor poured from the barrel of the gun and shot out toward him in a blur. He lunged off to the side, hearing a series of tinks and bangs before his world shifted on its axis as a sharp pain shot through the side of his head. He wavered in his steps, stumbling forward then back before his knees give out beneath him and he slumped to the floor while clutching the side of his head. Time could have passed slowly, quickly, or all at once and Arajin wasn't sure if he would be able to grasp any of it. He could hear the three talking over him, or perhaps somewhere near them, skittish and fear-ridden."I-Is he dead?""Aniki, you…""It wasn't me, you saw it! The crazy bastard was charging at me. He was gonna kill me!"Arajin wanted to laugh. If he was going to kill him, then he would've already been dead. But his hesitation cost him and the pain piercing through his skull was enough to almost pull him back down into unconsciousness. He tried to open his eyes, but they seemed to be glued shut. The best he could do was lie there, floating in the darkness of a coming unconsciousness as the three bickered. "Let's get out of here," one said."Wait for me!" Another cried.Their footsteps were loud as they rushed across the rotting floorboards like hell was hot on their heels, and the creak of the shrine doors closing left Arajin within the shrine's stillness once more. He could hear the cracked ebb of his breathing, the way he couldn't seem to gather enough air but at the same time couldn't let it out fast enough. It was suffocating, and his head felt as though it was splitting open. "Cowards…" He whispered, trying to summon the strength he'd possessed to fill his hands or his feet. To push himself up and shake off this pain so that he could get home. She's waiting for me, he tried to tell his body. It worked before, far in the distant past, when he was an infant and his mother held out her hands for him to walk to her. Or the times when he returned home with cuts and bruises, welcoming her touch and the gentle kiss to the bandages she administered. Was she still waiting for him, wondering if he was alright, with first-aid kit in hand and dinner prepared as she cycled through what questions to ask about his day.
Kaa-chan…
As his mind drifted away, he sighed, "I wanna go home…"