Kouji smiled in the real world, the first time he's ever done so in months. Seconds, actually, but digital world time was such a weird beast that it felt like months.
But he smiled for what felt like the first time in ages for him. For a reason he would've never imagined.
The smile, however? It wasn't complete. There where fragments of it missing, fragments Kouji couldn't bring himself to complete. His life wasn't whole, so why should his smile? It was unfair to her, and he knew it, but he couldn't force himself to do something that wasn't natural. At least, not right now.
But at least he smiled.
-0-0-0-
"Happy anniversary," Kouji said while whipping out a bouquet of flowers that were supposedly hidden behind his back. Yet anyone could see what was behind him were flowers, as he had let them droop down instead of pressing them to his back.
He handed the flowers to Satomi, who was always the intended recipient of the flowers. He had brought them long before his trip and almost debated leaving them by the hospital bedside as a get well gift, or handing it to the mother he never knew. But he made a promise. He was going to call Satomi mom, and he was going to be better friends with her too. He was going to going to be better.
"Oh Kouji, you really didn't have to," Satomi said, receiving the flowers. His dad chuckled.
"I thought you would forget or refuse to do it."
"How could I forgot my parents anniversary?"
-0-0-0-
The kid that ran out the door to buy more flowers wasn't the kid he was a day ago.
Hours ago he reluctantly left to get flowers for his own mother. Now he handed them to her without fail and sat down at dinner without his phone, attempting to make conversation with Satomi. And failing, but an attempt was made nonetheless.
And the look on Satomi's face when she realized this was one of pure happiness. A complete smile.
-0-0-0-
The next morning the first thing Kouji did was rush to that flower store, which was a long way from the hospital. He honest to god wished he could've stayed for breakfast, but he had to do this, before it was too late.
"Oh, you again?" the chatty florist asked. "What's it for this time?" She probably couldn't believe it. First it was an anniversary. Then it was a redo of the same anniversary order. Now what was it?
"A get well soon bouquet," he said, trying not to make eye contact with her. He knew her next question, "who's it for?" and quite frankly, he didn't want to answer it.
And he was right, she did. Her lips formed the sound for "who" and Kouji instantly regretted saying why. He knew her knowing was part of her job, as she had to know what it was for in order to make the bouquet. But still, he wished she didn't have to ask who it was for. That part just, bothered him.
"A friend," he said, immediately regretting those word. How dare he do himself such a disservice? How dare he do that part of him such a huge disservice?
But the florist nodded and immediately started working on the bouquet, carefully arranging each flower in a way that was almost mesmerizing. Soon she was done and with a smile she handed the bouquet, whispering "I hope they get well soon."
Oh, right, Kouji had to respond generically.
He had no heart to tell her he honestly didn't think so.
-0-0-0-
As he walked the petals fell. As the petals fell, his lifespan grew shorter. But Kouji couldn't stop the petals from falling. They wouldn't stop falling.
They fell and fell as he ran and ran to the train station, leaving petal tracks in his wake.
Almost like how he would be remembered by the random comments made in passing by the group. Because they wouldn't be connected to the whole and you couldn't tell exactly who was the main source.
But that's not how it was supposed to be. So he hugged the flowers close, protecting each and every petal drop as they fell and fell. These flowers were going to be connected to the whole.
The whole was going to remain alive.
-0-0-0-
"Hey. you need anything? Some water maybe? Some food?"
No response.
"So, I guess you don't need anything…" He trailed off. What could he, Kouji Minamoto, the kid who barely opened up to people, ever do to strike a conversation in a time where he desperately needed one.
"I remembered Satomi's anniversary today." My dad told me ages ago, but it can still count, right?
"She was so happy I remembered… and I have to admit, I told her something sappy myself. You wouldn't expect it from me but…"
This was dumb. Kouichi would be glad, but he was just wasting time. So Kouji placed the flowers he got in the vase, and stared into his soulless eyes.
Kouichi's soulless eyes.
That was the first time he thought of his name since the Digital World.
-0-0-0-
The boy frantically arranged everything in the room, almost taking over for the role of the mother in his brother's life. His mother wasn't exactly home all the time, and the boy could imagine why. Being a single parent with a full time job, that was hard. So she came at night to frantically arrange everything, well past the hospital's visiting hours, but it was okay, because she was family.
But did it matter if Kouji did this job? It wasn't like it mattered anyways. He knew the sickly boy wasn't going to get well.
Oh, he thought, the name fleeted again. Who was this child once again? He knew he said his name once. Why is it escaping him now?
Regardless of that, did it matter if Kouji did this job? It didn't exactly matter anyways.
Right, hope. Hope was that one sole motivator. This boy had hope.
-0-0-0-
When Kouji returned home, Satomi was at the kitchen prepping some kind of snack. He mustered a smile and went up to her.
"Whatcha making?" he said, leaning on the kitchen counter.
"Just a little snack, why?"
"Do you need any help?" He didn't even know why he asked. He was terrible at cooking if the Digital World proved anything. But maybe he could learn? Satomi liked cooking. Maybe she could teach him? It would prove to be a good bonding exercise. He would get what he wanted, Satomi would get what she wanted. Time with her son.
God it was weird to think of her as mom, but that was just something he had to get used to.
"Oh, well, I'm actually almost done. But maybe next time."
Plan B. "Can you teach me how to cook?"
"Kouji… are you sure?"
He nodded, and she wore a smile that was warm and sweet. He never knew how warm her smile was. How radient it was, like the rest of her.
"Then we could cook dinner together. I was planning a rather simple recipe after all."
"That sounds fine," he said, removing his elbows from the table. He wasn't hungry, so the snack didn't matter to him. He just waved goodbye and went upstairs to his room.
-0-0-0-
The room of the boy wasn't a frantic mess. The room of the boy was different from the way he treated the hospital room.
The hospital room was small and organized while the boy's room was a mess. How was this not a frantic mess? Because the boy never made sure every corner of the room was in order. The room was allowed to be itself, while the hospital room had to be perfect. Because the almost dead child… god what was his name again? But anyways the almost dead child had to wake up to a perfect room.
The boy, on the other hand, didn't care where he reside, so his room made its own environment. It's own natural environment that would feel like home to someone. The hospital room? Aside from being a hospital room, it was too orderly. Not organic enough. Too perfect.
-0-0-0-
His brother was not doing well.
Kouji woke up from a text from his biological mother, who visited his brother at night. He was on his deathbed, ready to die at any time, unable to continue living. If he were to continue living it would be as a personless body. A body without a personality.
"Kouji? Kouji?" He was shaken violently, and finally awoke to a blurry view of Satomi and stinging eyes.
"Oh thank god you're okay! I was worried when you didn't wake up…"
"I'm fine," he responded, reaching for his phone. And when he opened the last message that was on it, he realized he wasn't okay.
"Kouji, why are you crying?" Satomi asked, obviously confused. He didn't even realize he was crying, the tears just came so naturally.
"My brother…" He couldn't remember his name. Goddamnit why couldn't he remember his name. He spoke it once, when he was in the hospital… goddamnit, he couldn't remember his name.
"Kouji, you don't have a brother."
Did he really?
Did he not have a brother?
0-0-0-
The final petal fell.
The other petals were gone.
It's said that people died twice. Once when they actually die, and another when they have no one left to remember them. But do they really have no one left to remember them if they were never remembered at all? Those flower petals were gone, those fleeting memories were gone. Because the dead boy did not exist. He didn't exist anymore, and no one remembered him.
-0-0-0-
"Hey Takuya, what was the name of my brother?" he asked, with Satomi next to him. Kouji was positive he had a brother. Positive. So why was the name escaping him?
"You don't have a brother?" The words were a question, one that physically stinged Kouji, one that made him mentally sound though. Because he was going crazy inside, but now he was… calm.
"Really?"
"Remember? You told me you were an only child."
He hung up the phone and turned to Satomi. It wasn't that he doubted she was wrong, It was...just that…
God, how could he have a brother if he didn't remember his name?
"I guess I don't have a brother." And Satomi nodded like she was saying this is true.
We don't have another child her nod seemed to say, and Kouji believed it. He was putting more faith in her after all.
-0-0-0-
The punishment for evil is a cruel one. But nothing crueler than being alive.
Or could you say, that it was nothing crueler than being forgotten.
The dead child died with only one person at his wake, with his mother, who soon died afterwards. And that was the end of this family line. No one was left to remember them.
Not even the brother who had proof they existed, for digital proof was a mess. A mess especially when you messed with the digital world. So the proof was gone, and the brother was fooled.
The brother was the only one who could've given them a funeral. But the brother didn't know them. They didn't have a funeral.
Sad, the death of two people, twice over.
-0-0-0-
The day moved on, and Kouji continued to cook with Satomi, as that was their form of bonding.
"Are you sure you want to cook with me? I'm sure there's other things we could do… Like you could teach me the rules of kendo?" she had asked, but Kouji shook his head. He wanted to cook with her. Satomi was his only mother after all. Who else would he have?
Wasn't like he had another mother out there, somewhere.
Wasn't like someone he was supposed to know existed.
God how cruel was it to be forgotten.