Old Men Stories
By Lily Maxwell
Old men liked telling stories. They liked talking about their old adventures, about the love of their lives, about the mistakes they made, about the moments of joy. They sat amidst their grandchildren, a smile on their faces, and shiny little eyes looking back at them.
When he grew old, if he grew old, what would he talk about? Would he talk about the carefree life he took, how the days just passed by, one by one, before he stopped counting them, and time continued on, without him noticing?
Or would he talk about how he held the world greatest power, and then thousands of people came after him, sometimes after his life, and he had to fight ninjas and samurais, and himself, because that was a dangerous power that could kill the world, and perhaps even him.
But he knew that that story would sound no better than an old fairy tale of knights and princesses and eternal love. That even if he made it that far, he would not be able to tell anyone about those times. That this power he had, it put an end to his ordinary life, but at the same time, he couldn't think of living in this wonderful world. In the surface world he had to pretend he was normal, and in the underground world of Nabari, he had to fight to be normal. Not fully on one world or the other.
As he looked down at his hands, he wondered if he would grow old. He wondered if he would be just another smiling old man that would tell the same silly stories over and over and over again.
As he stared down at his hands, covered in writings of Shinrabanshou, Miharu wondered who would be with him as time passed by. He wondered why someone would want to be with him, a liar in two worlds.
Yoite was leaning against a wall, his stare holding a mix of worry and anticipation. One hand supported him on that cold surface, to hold him in place. The other held his middle, as if to hold his breathing in place. He wouldn't move, Miharu wasn't sure if he could move, but he also wouldn't say anything. He was just waiting.
As the boy looked his way, the letters burning his skin, he felt his vision blur, and at the same time, something rolled down his cheek. He wasn't sure why he was crying, if he was crying for himself or for Yoite or for the pain or out of fear.
As he looked at Yoite, he wondered if the one who would stay with him would understand him and would share with him emotions he never thought he could feel.
Yoite looked at him, his stare holding a mix of worry and anticipation.
Miharu closed his eyes, letting out a nervous breath. Knowing that he would be hated.
And so, he made his wish.