Disclaimer: Sugino thought it was Muu-chan, and stole it away from me.
Moi Musings: Heh heh. I just had to write this. I had just finished reading a fanfic about how Kantarou dies and leaves Haruka alone, and I felt that they should still be together, forever.
Hence the fanfic. Isn't it lovely? (hint hint)
It's not the same.
It isn't and never will be again.
Never.
He still came to visit. Perhaps it was the small flickering flame, hidden deep within his chest, his heart, that kept him hoping. But he knew. He knew, with the knowledge that made his heart wrench, that nothing was the same.
Even before, long before the days, decades before they pulled down the comfortable house they had lived in together. Him, the fox, and their master.
Their master.
Their master.
His lover.
Now he was lost, lost to the god who had forsaken him long ago, lost to his heart which had stopped beating ever since, lost to himself.
Lost in the tall forest of steel and glass and concrete and cement, lost in the hustle and bustle of humans as they hurried here and there, their time running out with every minute. Every second. Every breath.
He used to be called unfair. He was whined at, called mean, and what-not. Unfair.
But it was unfair.
Unfair that he had to live, and bear the pain throughout his long, lonely life.
He would have rather died.
But he didn't.
Yoko was unrecognizable. Her hair, fashioned in the way trendy youngsters wore it, was long, not short and neat, like how it used to be. Her favourite kimono, embroidered elaborately with white lilies, was gone, in its place a t-shirt and jeans.
Stylish, fashionable.
And that made it hurt all the more.
Yoko had accepted his death. She had moved on. She hadn't forgotten him, and yet again, she had.
He couldn't, wouldn't forget. It hurt. But it keeps him going.
People stared at him and young school girls in their ridiculously short skirts giggled and pointed.
He still wears the suit. Old-fashioned as it is, he wore it, wears it.
Why?
Because he had told him that he looked good in that suit. So he would wear it, for his sake. Yoko had tried, once, twice, thrice, to change his style.
But he refused, clinging on the ebony suit as he would cling to his rice bowl.
It was his last reason to live. The only object that tied him to his past. To the passionate kisses and whispered affections, to the warm embraces and gentle touches, to the love that he had loved and been loved by.
Now he wandered the crowded streets, brushing past frazzled employees, bored teenagers and excited shopaholics, stopping at red lights and walking at green, letting himself be pulled along with the tide, the current of humans hurrying about their business.
He walked and walked and walked, without destination, without thought, without mind, without sight, without hearing.
Perhaps it was there for a reason, he didn't know. Perhaps his craving was part of the reason as well, he didn't know. Perhaps the drink dispenser just happened to be there, and perhaps he just happened to have a craving.
For ramune.
He had loved ramune, and he didn't know why. Perhaps, he thought, he didn't even like ramune, but drank it because it was ramune, and forced him to drink it because ramune was fun to be drunk.
He never really liked ramune himself. Too sweet. Too fizzy. No. He never really liked ramune. He only drank it to humor him, to humor his master. But he never really liked ramune.
But that day, that cold, cloudy, breezy day, he stood in front of the drink dispenser, and bought one bottle of ramune. When ramune could be bought from drink dispensers, he didn't know. When drink dispensers were invented, he didn't care.
He leaned against the hard, concrete wall, watching the small, bright marble swirl slowly in the orange liquid, listening to it tap softly against the glass. Popping open the bottle, he let the cap fall to the ground as he raised the bottle to the sky, watching the grey clouds tumble across the sky.
"To you, stupid master…"
The bottle was raised to his lips, the liquid languidly making its way to his throat, when he felt a sharp thump against his arm, and before he had even realized it, the ramune lay in shatters and puddles on the floor. With a snort of annoyance, he turned his attention to the culprit…
And froze.
"Owwww…." The young man lay sprawled on the pavement, his fair, pale green hair falling over his eyes, the papers held in his arms scattered freely across the ground, the white sleeve of his shirt slowly staining orange from the ramune, a straw slipper lying next to his small feet. "Ah! My shirt! My sleeve!"
In a second he was sitting up, frantically scrabbling at the now partly orange shirt, ruby eyes transfixed on the long, damp sleeve, his eyebrows slightly creased in a frown.
"Ohhhh noooo…." he whined, the sleeve remaining orange, firmly refusing to un-color itself.
He never knew what possessed him to do what he did, but he did it anyway.
"Kantarou?"
The young man looked up, large red eyes wide.
"Ehhhhhhh? How…How did you know my name?"
The hair, the frown, the eyes, the whines, the name.
Perhaps, perhaps the god he had stopped believing in…
Had remembered him after all.
"…I just know."
The Kantarou blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then his eyes widened once more as he pointed an accusing finger at the elder man.
"AHHHHHH! YOU MUST HAVE BEEN STALKING ME!"
"You wish."
Kantarou huffed at the insult, whining that he was mean. He almost burst out laughing. The similarity was so great he could have kissed him right then, right there. But no. Instead, he dropped to his knees, helping to pick up the scattered sheets of notes. The bold words on one of the reports caught his eye.
The ogre-eating goblin.
This time, he couldn't stop the smile tugging fondly at his lips.
"…You study folklore?"
The young man nodded excitedly, smiling widely at the mention of it.
"Yeah! It's great, and I enjoy writing about it, so it's cool." His excited smilefaded into forlorn one. "I…I think that goblins…goblins and ogres and spirits do exist, we just don't really notice them." He sighed, kicking himself inwardly for revealing such a dumb secret. "Bet you think I'm nuts now, all about 'imaginary things'…"
"They exist."
Kantarou looked up, shocked, amazed that he would cut him off with that statement.
"Huh?"
"Those creatures you speak of. They exist."
The ruby eyes sparkled.
"…You really think so?"
"I know so."
At that moment, he broke into a grin so wide, that he thought that his face would crack. He chuckled happily, eyes sparkling with merriment, and the older man could swear he could hear himgiggle about finding the ogre-eater after all.
"Do you wish to find out more about the oni gu'i tengu?"
Kantarou gasped, eyes glittering brightly.
"Yes! I really would!"
He smiled faintly. "I...had a feeling you'd say that."
"Yeah, after all, I've been dying to meet…Ack! Your ramune! Oh, I'm so, so sorry…I'll buy you another one!"
"No."
"Eh?"
"It's okay. I'm not that fond of it anyway."
"But…"
"No."
Kantarou sighed. What a strange stranger.
"C'mon, share with me?"
His eyes enlarged, glistening slightly. Good old puppy-dog look.
Within seconds, two loud clanks indicated that two bottles of ramune had been bought.
And thenit was silent, the two men picking up the pieces of papers and articles and reports, the two opened bottles of ramune seated next to them, until Kantarou looked up, staring at the other man.
"Hey…"
"Hmm?"
"What's your name?"
The man raised his head, ebony hair falling over his onyx eyes.
"Haruka."
"Haruka?" The younger man asked.
"Haruka." The elder confirmed.
Kantarou smiled. "Haruka…My favourite name!"
They let their eyes meet, ebony and ruby, coal and fire, black and red. And after a century, Haruka thought his heart could beat again.
Then Kantarou's eyes fell to the watch on his wrist.
"Oh no, Reina-san is going to breathe down my neck for being late again…"
"Reina?"
"My secretary. All she wants is more reports, more stories and more articles. Women!" With that, Kantarou scrambled to his feet, dusting off his pants, and flashing another grin at Haruka.
"Well, come on, Haruka-chan! I'll need all the help I can get…"
Haruka got to his feet as well, picking up the glass marble and slipping it inside his pocket. He turned to Kantarou, who hadbusied himself with the last few drops of the drink.
"Okay, let's go."
The sun had begun to peek out from behind the clouds, smiling at the duo as they made their way down the street.
And Haruka thought that ramune...
Was quite delicious after all.
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