PART I. "Obsessions."
"You never told me what it was that made you strong and what it was that made you weak."
— Marina Diamandis.
Beep.
You don't need to eat that.
Beep.
Why are you buying that?
Beep.
You're already fat.
Beep.
What, are you feeding a family of ten or is this all for you?
"Your total's on the screen, ma'am." I turned my body towards the bags, sliding the packaged ground beef across the scanner. It seemed to be the only healthy option on this woman's grocery list.
She handed me the money warily, unnerved at the sight of my hair. I hurried the transaction so I could continue bagging what I assumed was her nasty dinner for the night.
"Why did you dye your hair that color?" The woman finally spat out her question that she'd been dying to ask since she approached the other side of the conveyor belt. "Your parents let you?"
I stared at her pudgy stomach as I replied, handing her change. "Because I wanted to."
She glowered at me as she opened her palm beneath mine, and I dropped the coins into her hand.
I could have said: "Why did you let yourself become so goddamn fat? Your kids let you? Oh, they probably died of starvation from you eating all the food."
But I needed this job.
My parents had low-income jobs and we were doing fine before. With my acceptance into Meiou High and my counseling appointments, money became particularly sticky. So I had to help pay for the extra bills coming in. The grocery store wasn't exactly the place I wanted to work. Being around food wasn't helping me at all, despite the hopes of my parents and counselor.
The grocery store didn't sit well with me, I still loathed food. It made me hate myself. The feeling of being empty was much more rewarding than indulging in garbage. I'd only end up weighing hundreds of kilograms and looking like a cow. Being empty was rewarding, the growling of my stomach was a sign of victory, and food only pushed up the numbers on the scale.
My counselor thought surrounding me with food would help me improve (what an idiot) since I'd be able to battle my hatred "head on."
Let me reiterate: what a fucking idiot.
The thoughts still stuck with me… but I was recovering, and doing better. I was, I was, I was.
I had to; I didn't like my parents paying for counseling appointments.
I ate breakfast and lunch today, to be honest. Dinner, though, I hadn't had the time yet. But I think two meals were enough for now... Even if they were unrealistically portioned and my counselor didn't see it as improvement... I thought it was improvement. I was still battling with self-loathing from eating, but I ate.
701 calories... 701 disgusting calories.
That's improvement.
The woman stepped aside with her groceries and the next customer stepped up. I avoided eye contact as I began ringing up the next person's load.
"Oh, my," the woman gasped, her palm flew up to her face, covering her mouth. "Aiko!"
My eyes drifted up to my next customer. I found Minamino, Shiori, and her son, my strange, red-headed classmate, next to her. I guess I couldn't call his hair strange anymore, considering my new color.
She smiled, covering up her surprise. "When did you dye your hair?"
I let Natsume pay for it… I mean, she offered and all.
"This morning," I replied, continuing to push her groceries along the scanner. The electronic sound turned rhythmic against our conversation.
Shiori went grocery shopping every Thursday night, arriving in the store at six o'clock. Any other time she came in was to pick up a special ingredient for dinner that she didn't have on hand. I didn't always receive many hours to work, but I was always given Tuesday and Thursday nights, and I always saw Shiori. She'd talk to me while I rang her up, conversing about school, what interested me, and what universities I wanted to attend. She'd often bring up her son when he didn't come with her, talking to me about the boy as if we were friends.
The usual motherly conversations that adults and teens talk about to become better acquainted. Ones to allow room and trust for other conversations. And after a few months of conversing, she'd become the one of the few I didn't silently chastise while ringing up.
"It looks lovely," she smiled, digging in her purse as the total continued to rack up. "It's almost… white."
"Yeah…" My attempt at bleaching it last night ruined my already frail hair. "The hair stylist did something with it. I was going for platinum blonde."
Shiori was the first one to compliment my hair today, and school had ended hours ago, it was reassuring. Especially since I had royally fucked up my hair when I bleached it. Few had acknowledged the new color, and if they did, it was mere surprise and nothing reassuring.
"Well, I think it's a nice change." She leaned over, eyeing my hair. Her compliment forced my smile to grow as I began bagging her groceries. "I especially like how it looks a bit silver in the right lighting."
It was like a game of tetris and understanding weight. After putting everything heavy and non-breakable on the bottom and separating bags for items by temperature, I then maneuvered and fit other items in. But the bag couldn't protrude or bulge in an awkward way; it had to be near perfect, easy for the customer to carry.
"By the way." I turned to meet the Minamino boy. "I was absent in class, did I miss anything special?"
Shiori's gaze turned from the total on the screen towards me, concerned.
"I just wasn't feeling good this morning," I reassured her.
I was actually at the salon. The night before I had bleached my hair an awkward blonde—god, I could not get over that horrible outcome—and then Natsume invited me to ditch and go to the salon with her. What better way to fix my mess?
"Lecture notes and the lab assignments will be due tomorrow." He was always polite though curt.
We rarely talked, despite having two classes together. The only interaction we had were moments like this. When I was in the middle of bagging Shiori's groceries and the occasional greetings in the hallways and classrooms. An acknowledgement, a hello, and we passed by each other and continued with our lives.
The only reason he acknowledged me was because I knew Shiori. I assumed she brought me up at dinner time enough for him to feel obligated to say hello.
"Thanks." I set the large paper bags up on the counter and took Shiori's payment.
"How are you feeling now?" I had to be careful in answering her; she seemed like the type to call the authorities or try to tell my parents.
Though I liked Shiori, I had learned to keep my mouth shut around adults. She was no different.
"I'm fine."
From my peripheral vision, I could see an amused smile emerge from the Minamino boy. He'd heard my honest answers to everyone else in class; he was probably wondering how many masks I had—if I had only the two he saw.
Shiori knew nothing and I intended to keep it that way.
"Will I see you next week?" Shiori breathed carefully as she lifted up one of the bags, and her boy picked up the other two.
She was still 'under the weather,' just as she had been last week, and the week before that…
"Same shift as always?" She heaved the bag against her chest as she coughed into her free hand.
It was raspy, and I waited to see if phlegm would fly on her balled fist. Perhaps it was just a cold.
"Of course." I waved them away with such a forced smile my cheeks hurt within seconds, and began listening to the same rhythmic tune over and over.
The monotonous beeping, the chinging from the register, the amount of garbage that passed by my eyes, the shuffling from the paper bag…
Nine o'clock couldn't come any faster.
I wasn't sure if repetition was a good thing. Wake up, school, work, homework, sleep, repeat. I talked to the same people every day, did the same thing every day.
I exhaled, watching smoke pour into the air around me, and I was only a tad bit guilty about going back on my vow of quitting. It was just one puff anyways.
I stopped to drop the cigarette butt on the ground and drag it along the cement. I dug in my satchel for the heavy scented lotion to mask the smell of tobacco and other vague chemicals to help me air out before arriving home. I read somewhere I was smoking methanol. It sounded pretty bad ass until I realized that I was practically smoking antifreeze.
Still, even if that was true, I didn't care.
I rubbed the lotion over my neck and hands, wiping residue on my coat's cuffs as I continued my walk home. Obviously, I would still reek. But airing out a few blocks before home and letting the lotion settle had worked before and it worked still. My parents just assumed the strange smell was the lotion itself, and I wasn't going to correct them.
Ah, that was routine too.
The only slight changes in my routine days were the minuscule details that didn't matter much anymore. New interactions, new subjects to talk about, and new sections of textbooks to read. New restrictions… They blended in far too easily, the weeks still passed by with ease.
It was boring, which was why I took up the upperclassmen's invitation yesterday to fuck around town.
Anything new, even just sitting in a salon for almost five hours fixing my hair was something better. Maybe that was why I went through with bleaching my hair yesterday and having it fixed at the salon. It was a change, a break from repetition. But I returned to my mundane schedule after lunch when we returned to campus.
The crisp spring night was fine though, it almost made up for the boring shift. Even this large jacket I had to wear was repetition; I was sensitive to the cold. I even wore thigh high socks clumped on my calves because it was the only way to relieve myself from the cold.
My thighs were the thickest part of my body; I didn't think they needed any covering since their fat could suffice as a natural warmer.
Boring, boring, boring.
What else hadn't I done in routine today…?
Oh, crap! I forgot to tell Kitajima I wasn't showing up to the book store today.
She had an interest in science fiction comics and the sort, while I tended to navigate towards shojo romances. But regardless of our interests we enjoyed talking about our favorite comics.
I grimaced as I rounded the corner into my apartment complex, hoping she didn't think I was blowing her off. They scheduled me an hour earlier at the store and I wasn't going to turn down the offer for more hours.
Coming up to the small apartment complex I lived in, I shoved the thought of my friend aside. I promised to find her after school tomorrow and apologize. But as my attention focused ahead of me, I found something that had me thinking I should ask for more counseling appointments.
For a few seconds, I figured it was a boy practicing a magic trick as he floated a foot off the ground, but I soon realized he was a ghost. Translucent, his frame stared inside the apartment. His hands were in his green school uniform pockets, and he was watching over someone.
Mother said there was a funeral here the other day; it must have been for him.
Chocolate brown eyes turned my way, meeting my gaze, and I cursed under my breath as I tried walking past him. I should have learned not to stare at ghosts after Grandpa's funeral.
"Oi!" The green uniformed boy floated after me. "You can see me?!"
It surprised me to see one floating around town, taking me off guard. I usually saw them in the hospital or in their home where they died, looking out the windows. I didn't expect to see one floating freely.
I ignored him, pretended to look through him. The last thing I needed was a ghost to harass me. Even though I would enjoy talking to them and find out why they're still lingering, if they were trouble then I'd look crazy asking for help.
I stayed quiet as I rounded another corner, continuing my way to the small apartment only three doors down from his.
"Oi!" I opened my apartment door and slammed it behind me, a sign for him to go away.
"I'm home." I called out as I dug my finger into the back of my shoes, taking them off.
My mother soon rounded the corner with a bright smile, feeling the slam of the door in the floorboard, but her jaw dropped when she saw my hair. Her sharp gasp carried into the living room, prompting my father to come see the matter.
"Aiko!" His eyes darted about my face, then to my hair, where they stayed glued. "When did you find time to do this?"
"This morning before school."
Both my parents went to sleep early in the evenings when I didn't work, and left to work early in the morning every day regardless. This left me able to slip out of the house this morning without anyone noticing my hair.
My eyes drifted to my mother's hands, watching them move around at a quick pace.
Her signing was violent as she waved her hands around, fingers moving just as lividly as I translated mentally. "What is wrong with you? Your hair was fine before!"
My mother was born deaf and an exceptional lip reader.
"Because I like it." I signed only to emphasize, to let her know I was addressing her as well as my father.
She exchanged a wary glance with my father, knowing they both messed up. They knew to be careful with my self-esteem.
The boring, light brown hair I received from my mother wasn't fine before. And despite the lack of compliments I received on my new color, I liked it. Their lack of consoling, backtracking words allowed me to walk past them into the hallway. I could only give them time to make up some try-hard lie to boost my confidence.
Entering the room I shared with my little brother, who was sound asleep, I stared down at the five-year old. I watched a small snot bubble grow and shrink as he breathed.
"Oi!"
I whipped around in fright, jumping off the ground to meet chocolate eyes once more.
"I know you see me!"
"Tch." I crossed my arms, unable to deny the fact now, and watched as he floated in my room through the window. I hissed, keeping my voice low. "What do you want?"
I didn't need my father to hear me and think I had schizophrenia or some other form of delusions.
"You're the only one that can see me." He crossed his arms and legs, floating around my room.
"So?"
"They're cremating my body tomorrow."
"That's... cool?" I shrugged, not understanding what he wanted.
"And I'm trying to come back to life!" He raised his voice as if that notion wasn't completely obvious to me.
I ignored his outburst and side glanced to my little brother, wondering if he could hear, but he remained undisturbed.
"Okay?" I couldn't take him seriously.
"Look, I've tried to communicate with people through their dreams but I don't think it's worked." He flew up closer to me. "Would you do me a favor?"
Who the hell went to sleep at ten? I glanced to the clock above my desk, finding it to be much later than ten. Had it really taken that long to get home? I must have taken my sweet time airing out without realizing it. But that thought dispersed quickly as I remembered the boy floating in my room.
"Maybe." I became wary, wondering if I should make an appointment with my counselor.
Maybe I was hallucinating or something. I'd never actually talked to any of the ghosts I'd seen, I avoided them.
"Can you just tell my mom not to cremate my ass? My heart in my body's still beating and I'm coming back soon."
I snorted, continuing to whisper. "Yeah, I'll just walk up to a random person and go 'so, look, your dead son's ghost is harassing me to tell you not to cremate him. Cool, thanks for believing me, bye.'"
"Yeah." The simple look on his face was almost priceless, but I was still annoyed with the situation.
"Okay, look, you're not coming back. You're dead." I couldn't understand why he thought he could come back. "I'm not going to entertain this."
"Gah!" He ruffled his hair in annoyance as he rolled around in the air, but his hair stayed intact with only a few strands coming out of place.
He either had industrial gel or used too much. Maybe it was a ghost thing. When I died, I hoped my hair stayed fabulous.
He reached in his pocket, pulling out a small golden egg.
Like him, the egg glowed, polished. "Look, this thing's going to hatch someday and when it does I'll be able to jump back into my body."
"Yeah, I'm going to make an appointment with my counselor…" I turned to leave my room, but his body floated in front of me again.
Normally, I'd be knee-deep in his asshole about this situation. (Why should I believe you? Who said you can come back to life? Why do you, of all people, get to come back to life? What's that egg for? What will hatch from it? What does its hatching have to do with your resurrection? What's in the afterlife? Is there a heaven and hell? Etc. etc. etc.)
But I was more preoccupied with the fact I was talking to a ghost, something that was not a daily routine. I avoided ghosts ever since Grandpa's funeral and this conversation was strange. Stranger a conversation than what I'd expect to talk to a ghost about.
"Okay, forget the egg! All you have to do is say something and walk off," he reassured me.
I sighed, wondering how embarrassing it would become if I actually followed through with this.
But I entertained his feelings. "You expect whoever I'm telling to just believe me?"
"I'll help you out if they don't believe you."
"You can't even seem to help yourself, that's why you're here asking me for help." My arms crossed defensively, and a staring match ensued.
To my surprise, he backed down, a calm expression on his face once more. "She's drunk so if things get bad she probably won't remember."
"Then she won't remember if she does believe me."
His calm demeanor was deteriorating with each passing second into one of anxiety. What was swaying me was how he honestly thought he'd be able to come back, his determination and fear.
Someone let him in on a secret you're only told in the afterlife.
"You sure she's drunk?"
He nodded, and I pushed all rational out of my mind as I walked through him, hope shining in his transparent eyes. I left my room to not wake up Minoru or draw attention from my parents. But it would be harder to actually slip past them.
The smell of spices and meat lingered from the kitchen into the hallway, they were reheating dinner for me. As I peeked around the corner, I found my parents signing to each other about my drastic hair color. Before I could hide behind the corner, my father caught sight of me.
"Aiko." My father's voice carried to me from where he stood in the kitchen. "Where are you going?"
"Out for some air." I leaned out from the hallway, approaching the living room.
After maybe a minute of eyeing my facial structure, he sighed. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."
"I'll be back," I promised, though I wasn't in the mood to entertain food.
"You're eating with us?" He was only asking for reassurance as I walked across the living room, where my parents slept.
Their futons spread out in front of the TV, ready for them to knock out on after we finished the tidying the kitchen.
"Yeah." I noticed his eyes following my feet, becoming relieved to see I was only wearing socks.
I closed the front door and the boy floated next to me, finding me from my room.
I figured my parents were watching me out of curiosity as I walked away, so I waited until I rounded the corner to look up to him. "What's your name, hair gel?"
"Urameshi, Yusuke."
"Hojo, Aiko." I approached the apartment door where I'd first seen him.
I'd lived here for years and I'd never crossed paths with this boy despite him living three doors down. Maybe I had seen him once or twice, maybe I had seen him every day, but I couldn't place a finger on the occasion. He was just a face in the routine and didn't seem interesting enough to ream for intel... until now.
"Maybe we should try Keiko's house again, instead," he grumbled, musing to himself.
"You sure she's drunk?"
I was beginning to regret agreeing to this; rationale was making its way back into my head. They'd put me in the loony bin if this person didn't believe me.
"Yeah," he grumbled some more, pondering. I worked up the courage to ring the doorbell before I realized how stupid this was.
"And she's pretty pissed now." He held up three fingers as he looked down at me, his body bobbed slightly as he floated. "Gonna be like that for a while. At least three days."
I turned my view up towards him, livid, and was ready to high-tail it out of there. Dealing with an angry drunk who'd just lost someone could put me in the hospital from assault. Every bit of rationale entered my head as I turned to leave, and I realized this was stupid to begin with.
But the door opened before I could step away off the porch. A scared, wide-eyed woman, who reeked of watered-down beer appeared from behind it. She stared down at me.
"Who're you?" She looked nervous, as if she'd seen a ghost before she'd opened the door.
"I… uh." I froze, wondering why I even agreed to this.
Oh my god, she was going to think I was insensitive and crazy and rude and horrible and oh, my god. Why did I even agree to this?
"Atsuko!" A young girl's voice broke my rising anxiety and I sighed in relief as a brunette girl with pig tails barged between us.
"Keiko?" The woman's attention turned to the girl, and I had never been more thankful for someone interrupting me.
"Atsuko, listen! Yusuke, he's—"
"Yusuke!" Keiko paused and stared at Atusko, curious what the older woman had found out. "I was going to give him one last punch to the face, and when I opened the casket his cheeks were still red. And his heart—it's beating!"
I stepped off the porch, jaw agape, as Keiko's face flushed with tears.
His mother collapsed into Keiko's arms and I inched away quietly as their sobs echoed in the open complex. I looked around for Urameshi, completely in shock, only to find him floating above the complex. His earlier communication worked.
The two girls continued to cry, and I tried making a break for it before they noticed me. It was too late, though, as his mother looked up at me, remembering my presence. The two brunette's shone from the dim light in the doorway, the moonlight hit the features the yellow light couldn't reach. Tear stained faces that gave them almost the same glow as Urameshi.
I stared down at the two girls, because surely they'd believe me. They were already reinforced with whatever Urameshi had done earlier.
The boy was going to come back to life.
I fidgeted, rubbing my upper arms as I tried to speak, suddenly aware of how cold the night air was despite it only being spring.
But all I could muster was the sentence I'd originally came to say. "He said not to cremate his ass."
A/N: This is a long fic. Long in word count, plot start, and plot execution. We're starting from the beginning and going to the end of canon. I follow canon, obviously, but my own plot will appear. You guys will get to see what I'm headed towards in chapter 16. It mixes in with the show/manga's timeline.
Because of what I'm going for, I write everything for a reason. Whether it's character growth (Aiko is such an obnoxious brat, but don't worry! I'm putting her through hell and back, so she'll grow up.) or plot points, I don't include anything that doesn't further the end goal. I hope that despite the length, you'll continue to read on with patience and even enjoy the ride along the way.
I also hope you'll let me know what you think, whether it's good or bad. I'm always looking to improve my writing and characterizations.