i was supposed to update this yesterday but FFN had server problems apparently and wouldn't let anyone log in :/ so here i am a day later! thank you for the support everyone and please enjoy :9
He looks around, eyeing each nook and cranny one by one. He drops to his arms and knees with a flashlight and his eyes scan the untouched area beneath the sofa. Satisfied with finding nothing but dust bunnies, he stands up and makes way to the bathroom. Nothing of his interest too. But when he visits the kitchenette, he frowns at the size of the trash that he has collected in the plastic bag he left by the corner.
Most of the trash consists of the instant noodle cups he's been living on.
He sighs and moves back to the living room after making a cup of tea. At least he's got everything packed. He pushes away a box to the side to sit on the sofa when his CCM rings from the coffee table. He gives the ID a quick glance before answering with a flat tone.
"Hoshihara speaking."
"Are the preparations for the move okay?" the man on the other side of the line asks, as if they were long-term buddies.
He didn't change his tone of voice. "I'm done packing."
"Great," the blond can almost see the man nodding, "We at Cyber Lance will see you in a week's time. 'Till then," and the call ended.
He stares at the blank screen of his CCM, taking note of the time and date, before putting it aside with his tea. He takes his tablet and begins to browse through some folders and documents he supposes was important up until now.
With one click he deletes the entire data on his two-year search for Sena Arata.
Just then his CCM rings again, and he grumbles while picking it up, before going silent for a while at the caller ID. He answers and says not as flatly as before, "Hello, Haruki."
"It's been a while," the other end replies. The blond man can almost hear the smile. "How are you?"
He stands up and moves to the balcony of his tiny apartment out of habit with his tea in hand. The sky doesn't look like a healthy colour but it matches the upcoming cold season. There are still bits of orange and red leaves here and there though. He wonders shortly if it will snow in Tokio City.
"I'm good as always. How are you holding up in college?"
"Is that a serious question?" Haruki retorts with a laugh. "College's been fun. It has its ups and downs, but what doesn't?" There's a small pause before he continues with a smaller and harder voice. "What about your search…? Is there any progress?"
He sighs loudly and that's enough for Haruki to get the message. "I'm back to square one." He says honestly, realizing that he is slowly losing hope in ever finding the redhead again.
"I see… What are you going to do then?"
"Move to Tokio City, work under Cyber Lance as their celeb test player, and—" he was saying things in a joking or lazy manner but is surprised when Haruki cuts him off in a more surprised manner.
"Tokio City? You'll be here?"
Ah, that's right. How did he forget that Haruki's college is in the city? He feels like slapping himself in embarrassment. Now Haruki will think he purposely didn't tell him. He makes a mental note to preserve whatever social connections he has left properly.
"Yeah, apparently. I forgot you're living there, sorry."
There's a chuckle from Haruki and he lets go the breath he's been holding. "That's okay. It's great you're moving here. Where are you staying?" the man asks.
"Ah, that's still a problem. I need to be there in a week and I haven't found a place to stay yet. I'm in quite a pickle here."
"Is that so? I happen to know a few places that want tenants as soon as possible. I can send you their contact information."
"…That'd be great. Thank you."
The old lady in front walks quickly and he makes an effort to keep up with his messenger bag dragging him down. She told him to refer to her as 'Baa-chan', as the rest of the apartment block's residents call her that. She has amazing energy, in his opinion, despite her age and hunched back.
Talkative too—where he tunes out most of her words.
It's not a big block, only three storeys high. But it's comfortable and up-to-date. She rambles on a lot of things, most of them he doesn't hear because he's not paying full attention.
He'll have a flatmate. Since each quarter has two rooms, they'll be sleeping separately, obviously. The rent he has to pay is considerably low for an apartment equipped with furniture, one where he took on such a short notice. It must be because he'll be sharing it with a stranger. He didn't mind company however he did prefer to be alone.
But he'll be alright.
The old woman stops by a door he takes will be the place he'll stay in for who knows how long this time around. She takes out a key—similar to the one he was given earlier—and as simple as that opens the door without knocking.
Well, now he knows who the boss around here is.
"Arata-kun! Are you here?!" She calls out in a loud voice like she does this all the time, much to his surprise.
"Sorry about that," she says over her shoulder, "it's just that he sometimes gets lost in his own world with that headset and guitar of his. You gotta yell his name before he finally hears you."
He nods, understanding. So this person is named Arata, huh? He's met too many Aratas in these past two years. What are the chances that the Sena Arata he's looking for—
"Baa-chan, how many times do I have to tell you not to barge in?" footsteps approach and indigo eyes widen with a small pause. "And why do you have a woman with you?!"
—would appear right in front of him in nothing but a towel over his lower parts, his hair wet and all.
"How rude!" the old lady scolds and slaps the redhead on his arm. "This is your new flatmate. Be nice to him. And get some clothes on, sheesh." She says with a huff. "Eh—wait, that's a guy?!" is the response from 'Arata'.
He should feel offended, and he does a tiny little bit inside, but the person that literally popped right before him is of more importance. The eyes, the hair and the voice… it's all the same. That or he's going crazy. Yes, that must be it.
He's going crazy.
Arata would definitely recognize him and know he's a guy, right? Or has he changed way too much in these past few years to the point only family and close friends would recognize him in the streets? Impossible.
Baa-chan leaves them, closing the door after a hasty goodbye and a reminder to lock the door. Gripping his bag, he introduces himself and hopes—hopes, despite this nagging feeling—that his name would result in some form of reaction from the redhead. They stare at each other, indigo eyes against blue, and he doesn't know what he's expecting.
"Hoshihara, huh? I'm Sena Arata, although the old lady might've already told you that… and sorry for calling you a woman earlier." A sheepish grin spreads across his face that takes the blond back to when he was a young teenager setting foot on Kamui Island, oblivious to the adventure he would undertake with his soon-to-be friends.
However the flashback dissolves into the hurt he feels. He wants to say that he'd prefer to go by his first name but holds his tongue.
"Your room is over there," Arata points towards a door and then to another room beside it, "and that one's mine. Is that all your stuff?" he refers to the blond's bag. "That's a lot less than I expected."
He almost forgets he has a mouth. "There's still more downstairs." He says.
"Oh, do you need my help?"
He wants to accept the offer but he shakes his head instead. "Thank you, but I already have someone helping me." He struggles to say. He places his bag on the kitchenette counter and turns for the door before Arata can say anything more.
"Whoa, are you okay?" is the first thing that comes out of Haruki's mouth the moment he emerges from the apartment block's compound. He's leaning against his car but stands upright at the sight of him, concern on his face.
"You're pale." He comments.
"I'm fine." The blond chokes out, which he's sure means 'I'm not fine' to Haruki. The black haired man holds him by his shoulders. "Are you catching a fever?" he continues, placing a hand on his forehead. "Fevers love you, after all." He teases with a small smile, which the blond can't deny because he is prone to fevers.
He shakes his head to answer the man's question. How's he going to explain to Haruki that his flatmate might be the Sena Arata of Jenock's first platoon and might also not be Sena Arata of Jenock's first platoon?
Something wet comes down his cheeks causing the two men to gasp.
"Okay, what's wrong?" Haruki says with his voice sterner. The blond wipes his face with his sleeves. This is embarrassing, crying out of the blue and in front of Haruki too. "Can we sit in your car first?" he requests.
They do, with him claiming shotgun and Haruki in the driver's seat. The atmosphere is quiet, Haruki with his arms crossed and eyes on the blond.
He hides his face in his hands and sighs deeply before saying, "My new flatmate is Arata."
"What?"
"It's Arata. I'm sure it's him. But he… he treated me like a stranger, like it's our first time meeting," the blond sighs again, pulling on his bangs slightly. "I think I'm going crazy. He didn't act like this the first time we met on the island."
"He treats you like a stranger… Maybe he couldn't recognize you because of your hair?"
"I doubt it—I introduced myself to him and he called me by my surname."
"Oh." Haruki's brow furrows. He can tell that the black haired man has no idea what's going on either.
"The only explanation I can think of is that I'm going crazy. I must be. I've been looking for him for two years, and just when I'm about to give up I meet someone who is so much like him physically who also shares his name. This has to be a sick joke. I…" he rambles on but is stopped by Haruki.
"Calm down. There has to be a logical explanation to this or a mistake maybe. And you're not going crazy," Haruki opens the car door and steps out. "Come on. Let me see this Arata with my own eyes."
He carries his heavy bag of clothes while Haruki carries his two boxes. That's all of his possessions. The blond opens the door, not surprised it's unlocked, and walks in with the other. They see a redhead on the sofa, flicking through channels on the TV.
"Oh, Hoshihara? I kept your bag in your room for you. If you need any help or something, you can tell me." Arata turns his head around with a smile on his features. For an odd reason, the blond feels glad the redhead's fully clothed this time but still uneasy at the use of his surname.
"Thank you," is all he can say before he carries his bag to the room Arata showed him earlier, Haruki tailing behind him.
The two men look at each other after they close the door. "So?" the blond says, arching an eyebrow.
"There's no doubt about it. That's Arata," Haruki says. He keeps the boxes he'd been carrying by the bed. "But it doesn't seem like he recognized me."
"And you cut your hair back to how it was like in middle school. So our appearances have nothing to do with Arata not recognizing us," he sits on the bed and Haruki follows. "Jin-san and Rikuya said he was in a coma… you don't think he's…?" his voice comes out softly.
Haruki closes his eyes and sighs. "With how things are right now, it's very likely he is." He confirms that his thoughts are the same as the other's. The blond lies down on the bed, eyes wide and hands trembling. He feels like something dropped itself onto him, crushing him and rendering him unable to breathe right.
He's sure it's the realization that Arata is amnesiac.
"Who was that?"
"Huh?" he blinks at the sudden question thrown at him upon entering the apartment. He had just come back from seeing Haruki off and thanking him for the car ride from his previous town to Tokio City. He sees Arata in the kitchenette, drinking water, looking straight at him.
"The guy with black hair," Arata says. "Who's he?"
"A close friend," he hesitates for a while, "that I've known since middle school."
This is hard. Haruki told him to keep up the we're-new-flatmates-who-just-met act but it's such a foreign thing to do. Maybe it won't be as hard as he thinks it'd be. Arata doesn't remember who he is, and he… well, he lost contact with the other six years ago or so.
They really are strangers.
"Why don't I cook dinner?" Arata says suddenly with a grin on his face.
His eyebrows rise. The first question that he wants to ask is 'You can cook?' but somehow that'd be inappropriately rude. The redhead must've read his expression because he says, "I'm not the best chef around but I can make a decent meal. So, what do you say? Since it's your first day here and all I thought we could get to know each other through some pasta, if you're up for it. Consider it a welcome party."
That's so you, he thinks to himself, remembering the time Muraku's platoon transferred to Jenock. The entire virtual country made a party just for the sixth platoon, Arata being the one who came up with the idea. "I'd like that."
"You don't talk much, huh?" Arata comments and sits next to him.
He nods a little, still cautious with his actions. Arata had tried to initiate a conversation between them during dinner but his responses were sparse due to the awkwardness that was one-sided. And now here they are on the sofa, their eyes on the TV.
So far the impression he's giving Arata is that he's someone who doesn't talk a lot—which is true, in a way—and apparently he's almost emotionless, like a robot. At least he thinks that's the impression Arata has of him.
He doesn't know how to carry himself in front of the redhead, thus the lack of words or reactions. Someone who's a loner or a snob? Friendly or cold? It's all so confusing for him. And Arata… he's the same but there's a tint of difference—still cheerful and energetic but somewhat… mellow.
"I'm going to go to sleep now. Again, it's nice to meet you, Hoshihara." Arata stands up to stretch before making way for his room.
This early? It's only 9PM. That's something new, among the many new things he learnt about Arata today.
"Good night," he says, biting his cheek afterwards. He hasn't said that to the other in ages and the words slipped out of his mouth, like it's the most natural thing to do—which it used to be. "And thank you for dinner." He quickly adds, averting his eyes to the TV remote on his left.
Arata merely grins. "Good night." He says, closing the door.
He's not sure if it will be a good one.
When he walks into the kitchenette next morning, he sees the note attached to the fridge. He's surprised he can still recognize Arata's handwriting. Then again, who else would be leaving notes for him in this place?
I've gone to work. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I'll probably be back a couple of hours before dinner.
(^ _ ^)/ Have a nice day!
Work, huh? So that's why he went to bed early. He rips the note from the fridge and crumples it into his pocket. Curiously, he swings the refrigerator's door open and is greeted by bundle after bundle of chocolates and sweets.
His blue eyes widen in surprise. It's like a child's dream fridge. Of course, in between all the candy there are 'normal' food you would find in any fridge owned by a normal person squeezed in here and there but he's sure if he rearranged everything, half of the refrigerator would be candy and the other half would be whatever Arata has in here that's not candy.
Did Arata always have a sweet tooth or did he grow one in between their years apart?
Arata said he can eat anything, but he'd rather not. At least he won't until they were back to the status of friends again. It's typical of Arata to be this friendly to a stranger but he won't take advantage of that friendliness. He wants to build their friendship back to the way it was, from scratch with his own effort.
And maybe, just maybe, Arata will remember him again.
After breakfast, consisting of onigiri and juice from the nearest convenience store, he decides to explore their apartment. He leaves Arata's room out of his plan, of course. That'd be disrespectful of him. He checks the CD and magazine racks, not realizing he's frowning the whole time.
All he finds are normal teen magazines and albums of famous and obscure bands. In between some pages of books, music scores peek out with notes and lyrics written on them. He even finds a stray guitar pick under the coffee table.
Not a single thing about LBXs.
He thought that even with amnesia, Arata still played with LBXs. Apparently he's wrong. Baa-chan's words from yesterday confirmed his suspicions—Arata has moved on to the world of music. The fact that the LBX-loving boy has changed interests upset him.
The redhead was so passionate over LBXs… and now…
He may have almost given up in his search for Arata, but now that the man is within his reach, he's not going to give up on his memories as easily.
Lately his life is nothing but one surprise after the next and a lot of getting used to things. Pretending he doesn't know Arata personally, one of them—Tokio City, another.
He looks around, trying to decipher where he is. To say he's lost… would be the right term. He's still not used to the area and considering it's a city, he's taken wrong turns one time too many. Calling Haruki would just embarrass him. He needs to learn his way around Tokio City sooner or later, so he figures he'll walk on his own for a bit more. He's bound to encounter the train station, right?
A few steps later, rather than finding his destination, a voice greets him instead.
"Hey."
He turns around, startled to see Arata walking beside him with the famous grin on his face and a lollipop in between his lips.
"Sena." He says to show he recognizes the other. For him, it's still odd to be calling Arata by his surname. But the other showed no intention in referring the blond with his first name ever since he moved in, thus he decided he'll follow suit and stick with the formalities.
"Didn't think I'd run into you here." Arata says and laughs.
He notes the giant case the redhead's carrying over his shoulder before he answers, "I could say the same. What's that you're carrying with you?"
"Ah, it's my beloved guitar."
Not a surprise.
"Are you in a band?"
"Yeah, I am. We practice a couple of hours each day. Where're you heading?"
Uh-oh. Is he willing to confess to the redhead he can't navigate through the city alone? The blond let a few seconds tick past before he sighs and answers. "The train station. But I can't find it."
"The train station?" Arata repeats. "Are you saying you're lost?" he adds with a laugh.
He huffs in indignation. As if he needs to hear that from Arata. He nods anyway and Arata jabs a thumb forward. "Come on, I'll show you the way."
For most of their journey, Arata hums a melody. It's slow, soft and comforting—he can't help but to be attracted to it. It's his first time hearing a melody like so, it makes him feel like he's about to doze off but not exactly yet. He wants to ask Arata about the melody, when his eyes register the surrounding area and all questions regarding the melody dissolves in his confusion.
"This isn't the train station." He says, looking at the trees around them. They appear to be in a park, if the paved walkways and lavish greens around them are any indication. The moon peeks through the branches, patches of light seen on the ground near them.
Arata sheepishly grins and scratches his cheek. "Well, I, er, thought we could have a little walk before going home, you know?" he says. "Besides, the sky view is great from here."
Blue eyes blink quickly and he turns around to face Arata.
"Of course if you want to go home, we can do that instead," Arata says hurriedly. "You must be tired, after all!"
"No, it's fine," he says. "I can use a bit of fresh air."
Relief spreads through Arata's face. The blond lifts his head and his lips turn up a little at the sight of a few blinking stars. There's only a handful but considering they're in a city it's a nice view either way, quite a rest from the artificial light.
"I've never seen a star-filled sky," Arata says. "I want to see it though, even just once."
But you have, the blond thinks to himself, countless of times in fact. "I've seen a sky like that. And I can say that it's best to watch from an island, far away from any light pollution." He says, briefly missing the twinkling lights on the dark canvas back on Kamui Island. He compared skies from every place he's visited and he can't deny he likes Kamui's best.
"Really? Do you come from an island?"
"Not exactly. I attended Kamui Daimon Comprehensive Academy." He replies hastily, keeping a close eye on Arata's expression. He's met with a face of wonder.
"No way, you're an LBX player?!" Arata asks bubbly.
He can't help smiling at the redhead. So Arata knows a thing or two.
"I've always wanted to try LBXs!" Arata says. The exclamation sends a shockwave through him.
Arata must've seen his expression because he quickly explains, "My parents won't let me near one for some reason."
He can only nod, knowing full well why Arata's parents acted like so.
"So you've been at Kamui since the first year of middle school or something? Because that'd be awesome!"
No, we both entered Kamui together a bit late in our second year. You had just recently won your third championship thanks to your opponent's slipup while I had been held back by Artemis, is what he wants to say but he knows Arata won't believe him. Maybe think he's joking. He says exactly that though, minus the part about Arata enrolling at the same time as him and winning because of his foe's mistake.
He looks amazed. "How was middle school like?" Arata asks eagerly.
His eyebrows rise at the question. He stares into Arata's face for a while, trying to think of a good way to retell his memories. But attempting to make a terrorist attack on the school sound homely isn't a piece of cake. And then there's also the part where Arata…
"Ah, sorry. That must've been a weird question," says Arata suddenly, scratching his cheek again.
The blond didn't think of the question as weird at all. In fact, he's the one who's currently confused as to why Arata would think a simple question like that is weird. Not every school out there is like Kamui Daimon—it's one of a kind. It'd be normal if anyone wondered how life in Kamui was like.
"This might sound crazy but I, uh…" Arata starts. "I don't know how it felt like to be in middle school. Or rather, the better phrase for it is, I don't remember."
Oh, so that's it.
"My parents told me I got into an accident when I was younger that wiped away five years of my memories. I'm amnesiac. I had to start high school right after I woke up from the coma. Mom and Dad won't even tell me what school I went to before and they're completely against the idea of me trying to get my memories back," Arata loudly sighed. "It's a bummer. But they think it's for the best—said something about the school being at fault for the accident."
He can't believe his ears. So all this time Arata's parents had been feeding him lies regarding the accident? He expected it, deep down inside, when he realized that Arata hadn't tried contacting them at all after the accident but he didn't want to believe it. And now the evidence lies bare in front of him.
He blinks and he realizes Arata is quiet, waiting for a form of reaction.
"I…" he doesn't know what to say. Admit he's known all along and risk this fragile bond they had just created?
Mind buzzing, he asks himself what would Haruki do. Haruki would probably come clean and tell the truth. Arata deserves to know what he forgot. The best thing to do is to tell him and let fate decide whether or not Arata will believe him. But…
"I'm sorry to hear that."
But he's not strong enough to do it.
The next morning seems somewhat cheerful, mostly due to Arata's part. He bombs the blond with questions regarding LBXs the minute he enters the kitchenette for breakfast. Arata's cooking, as usual. It's a simple meal of sausages, toast and mashed potato. He tries to down his food and ignore the heavy guilt in the pit of his stomach at the same time.
He's in the middle of explaining to Arata what War Time is—You loved War Time more than anything. You often got in trouble during classes for coming up with ideas on how to complete suspended missions rather than paying attention—when he catches Arata's eyes lingering blankly on him. He doesn't look like he's listening to a word.
"What?"
"What?" is the spontaneous reply from Arata. He blinks, eyes still on the blond, and it takes him a moment later to sputter his juice. "Oh, I—uh," he stutters, cheeks red in embarrassment from getting caught staring.
Slightly amused, the blond shakes his head. "What were you even looking at?" he asks, biting into his toast.
Arata sits upright and clears his throat. "It's your jacket. I noticed you wear it every morning. I was just wondering why," he says, looking away.
The blond stops chewing and looks down at himself. It's a bit of a tight fit, the blue has faded slightly from sun exposure and it's linty in some parts but the jacket Arata had left in their room the day he left has served him greatly.
"I don't wear it every morning, I wear it to sleep." He confesses with a struggle. It's okay, he tells himself, Arata doesn't remember he's the rightful owner.
Arata's eyebrows rise, probably finding the idea of wearing the same jacket to sleep every night as odd.
"I… Er… can't sleep without it," he avoids Arata's eyes. He's sure he's more embarrassed than Arata was earlier and wishes he had continued on talking about War Time instead of pointing out Arata's wandering thoughts.
He's not quite positive when it happened and he can't exactly remember when he realized, but he remembers the sleepless dark nights when the jacket was in the laundry. He tossed and turned restlessly in agitation, eyes wide open. The next night he had the jacket, he fell sound asleep almost immediately and not even the slightest stir woke him up.
Long story short, the jacket became an important treasure to him.
"Oh." Arata says. His eyes are on him again and the blond feels a rush of self-consciousness rise inside. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, toying with the sausages around his plate. He finds himself fighting against the urge to pull his hood up to cover his face.
"Hey, Hoshihara."
"Hm?"
"…Never mind, it's nothing."
His eyes trail from the news on the TV screen to Arata who's sitting on the other end of the sofa. This is the first time he's seen Arata hold his guitar and test out strings, humming the melody from their walk in the park a few weeks ago and sometimes mumbling under his breath.
"What are you doing?" he asks curiously, edging closer to the redhead so he can see the words Arata's writing on the paper clearly. His blue eyes narrow. Is Arata writing a song? It seems like it. He realizes he doesn't know much about Arata's activities in the band.
"Writer's block." Arata mumbles.
"What?"
"I can't get any ideas," says Arata irritatedly, biting the edge of his pencil before he erases the bottom row of words. "Everything I come up with is no good at all."
"Let me see," he says, finally sitting right next to Arata, and extends a hand for the paper. Arata gives it to him and watches him as he reads through everything Arata wrote. "What is it about?" he asks, placing the paper between them so they'd both get an open view of it. The first few paragraphs tell him this isn't a love song.
Arata hesitates, as if he's thinking of a good way to summarize the song. "It's about a group of friends going different ways after fighting together for a long time," he shifts himself so he can sit better, "a goodbye song."
The blond blinks at Arata before his eyes return to the paper. He reads the first line out loud. "WHISTLE ya CHIME ni sekasare sugiteku hibi..." for one reason or another, he feels a tug at his heart. Arata pulls the paper closer to him and begins strumming.
The redhead takes a deep breath and for the first time in his life, he hears Arata sing.
We live our days hurried along by the whistles and the chimes
I wonder if we'll laugh at ourselves when we look back on these times
I came all this way aiming to excel and succeed
Putting all my might into running down this long road
Blue eyes widen considerably. Something about this song, and the way Arata sings it, is making his insides mix. He can't understand why and decides to ignore it. It's probably a onetime thing, it'll go away eventually.
He makes an indistinct smile and says, "I like your voice."
"Thanks," Arata says with his own smile. But it disappears as Arata uses his pencil to point at a line. "I'm having trouble to think of what should come after this," he says to the blond and quickly sings it. "We'll hold our fists up high, and swear on them. That we'll turn the wars we overcame together into courage…"
"Even if we're apart, see, we're not alone…" almost spontaneously, the words slip out of the blond's mouth. He can feel himself reddening as Arata flashes a wide grin, quickly writing down what he had just said.
"That's perfect!" Arata exclaims excitedly. "Spontaneous inspiration is definitely the way to do things. Hey, why don't you come watch us practice one day?" he suggests.
The offer startles the blond. He's not sure what to make of it. Is Arata serious with the invitation or is it a passing thought?
"The rest of the band won't mind if I drop by?" he asks.
"Doubt they will. They'd be ecstatic to have someone watch."
He fails to see any other reason why he shouldn't go. With the tiniest of smiles, he nods. "I'd love to."
It appears to him that Arata spends more time with the guitar than usual, humming, strumming and mumbling almost the whole day. They hardly have breakfast or dinner together anymore.
In other words, Arata is getting more and more invested with his band and it seems like the invitation to watch his band practice slipped out of his mind entirely, for there's no mention of it in weeks. Maybe Arata wasn't serious after all.
And it gets worse when the blond comes down with a fever. With a throbbing headache he sends Arata, who's making an annoying 'racket' with his pencil tapping, another glare before he huffs and hastily leaves Arata in the apartment.
Despite his weak state, he still manages to climb down the stairs and knock on Baa-chan's door.
He has developed some form of friendship with the old woman, having constant conversations with her every time they meet—which is mostly when she comes by to collect rent or when he comes across her on his way in and out the block. But she has made it clear that if he ever runs into trouble, he can come by to her place. And so here he is, running away from said noisy trouble.
Of course, he'd rather be in his room. But if he rests there, Arata would be even louder, his sounds passing the walls as if they were made of thin paper. Thus his only sanctuary lay three floors under.
Baa-chan opens the door, not too surprised to see him as he hoped, and ushers the man in. "Is something the matter?" she asks, walking behind him. He almost collapses but manages to steady himself by holding the wall. Concern spreads through her face and he answers meekly, "Fever…"
That one word sends her into frenzy, for she makes him sit on the sofa in the living room and repeatedly asks him if he's taken medicine in between rants about the younger generation not being able to take care of themselves properly.
He thinks of it as amusing and manages to make himself heard over her rambles. "Yes, I have. Don't worry about that."
The old woman nods curtly and leaves him to make some tea. When she comes back with two cups, she asks, "So why did you come here, with a fever to boot?"
"To get away from Sena." He replies nonchalantly, taking a sip.
"Sena? You mean Arata-kun?"
"Yeah, he's making a noise up there. I can't sleep with him around." He says and lies down, placing his arm on his forehead. He can see Baa-chan shake her head and mutter something under her breath from the corner of his eye—probably about Arata being an irresponsible flatmate.
He's about to ask her if it's okay for him to rest here for a couple of hours when she asks, "After all these months you two are still on last names?"
Her eyes are wide as if it's the most unheard thing. It's true; he's stayed here for half a year by now. Perhaps Arata sees him as a friend already considering they've lived together for this long. Even if he does, Arata hasn't tried calling him other than 'Hoshihara' at all so he himself hasn't budged from calling him 'Sena'.
The blond nods. "There's nothing wrong with that, right?" he tries to keep his voice steady. He wonders if he really meant that question for Baa-chan or if he was asking himself that.
Baa-chan shakes her head. "I don't think there is. But it is a bit weird considering the circumstances." She says. She's about to say more when he decides to cut her off.
"Baa-chan."
"Yes?"
"Do you mind... if I tell you something?"
She looks perplexed but nods, encouraging him to continue.
He waits for a few moments more, collecting the strength and courage he has left, and tells her of his time at Kamui with Arata, how they fought Seledy, how Arata decided to leave, how they lost contact and how he spent two years looking for him until he finds him here, amnesiac.
He's not sure why he's telling Baa-chan all of this. Maybe for comfort. Or maybe he just wanted someone to listen. Maybe he's had enough of pretending and maybe he just wanted everything to end. Because if there's one thing he's sure of, it's the fact that he's growing weary of it all.
Or maybe it's the fever talking.
"And he still hasn't shown any sign he has regained his memories?" Baa-chan asks, a little wide-eyed.
She looks like she believes in him and his story despite how crazy he worded it and he doesn't hesitate to answer her. "I'm afraid not." He says, shaking his head.
"But are you even trying to get his memories back?"
Taken aback, he gasps. "What?"
"It just seems to me that you're either not trying hard enough," she says, stirring her cup of tea. "Or you don't want him to remember."
The idea of it is crazy to him. Of course he wants Arata to remember, they've spent all that time together and he can't just let the redhead not know all of it ever happened. He even thinks he's never handled an LBX before!
Arata's like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle and the missing piece is his memories. He needs to recover it for the puzzle to be whole again.
Baa-chan must be crazy to think he'd do something like that. He didn't even think it was possible until she brought it up. Even so, he'd never lie to him if it comes to Arata's past…
He'd never… right?
Then a new thought comes to mind. A lump forms in his throat. "Baa-chan… do you think that… there's a chance he won't get his memories back at all?"
The idea of it frightens him
But before Baa-chan can answer, someone knocks on the door. The two look at each other before she sets her cup on the coffee table and stands up. He hears her walking, still quick with her steps as usual. The door creaks and he faintly hears two voices talking.
"Ah, Arata-kun, what brings you here?"
"I'm looking for Hoshihara. Did he tell you where he went?"
"Oh? He's inside the living room."
"What? What's he doing here?"
They seem to be walking towards him, if the nearing footsteps are any indication. Soon enough, he sees Arata's face poking in from the doorway.
"You! You disappeared so suddenly, I got worried!" the redhead exclaims. He's hit at the back of his head by Baa-chan.
"Keep it down. He's got a fever." She says.
Arata rubs his head in pain before he looks at him with wide eyes. "Fever? That's why you ran here?"
"I have a headache too. You were making a racket up there…" the blond says, holding his head to make his point clear.
"You could've just told me!" says Arata. He walks towards him and lifts him up by his arm, supporting his weight. Caught by surprise, he stumbles forward but Arata manages to pull him upright. "Come on, I'll make you miso soup for dinner." The redhead says.
"W-Wait a minute!" he tries protesting but he lost too much energy getting here to fight back. "Baa-chan, help me!" he resorts to his last hope for help, not exactly wanting to return to their apartment. He can't leave his earlier conversation with her suspended.
The old woman simply shakes her head as she says, "Get better soon!" with a smile and closing the door behind them as Arata drags him away on his tripping feet.
