So, the Cicadas Return
Due to a family curse, every night Kaneyama Sho leaves his corporeal body to speak with a boy with horns. It is through this boy that he finds a medium to live the life he has been denied, but as his involvement deepens with each passing night the two are drawn together in a culmination of dying camellias.
Night Two, a Discourse on Family
Sugita had not yet forgiven Sho for ditching him on the train that night. Not that he had meant to disappear all of a sudden, but it was quite impossible to reverse the effects without slicing into his hand again. Sho didn't think he had enough blood left for another round and wound up asleep each time he returned to his body, anyways. The blood loss exhausted him, so he always allowed sleep to take his consciousness. Besides that, Norio had been particularly sensitive over his scarred hands lately, and he'd promised his cousin that he'd restrict his nightly adventures.
As a result, Sugita was not talking to him. The odd boy refused to answer him, refused to acknowledge that he even existed, no matter the extent of his efforts. That was okay, Sho grudgingly accepted, seeing as he always did the talking anyways. This wasn't so much different. It was just this detached air- as if Sho were not really there at all- that truly burrowed beneath his skin. It was somewhat similar to the treatment his family extended to him throughout his entire seventeen years of existence.
Ignore the shameful smear on the family name, and everything would be okay. Pretend that he doesn't exist. There is nothing in that empty room at the end of the hallway on the third floor except for copious amounts of dust. Norio might be a little touched in the head, so he sometimes goes in there. That was all. There was nothing strange about their family whatsoever.
"I'm kind of glad I'm not related to you," Sho stated. They- more like Sugita alone- were situated in his foster parents' house, in the guest room where Sugita stayed. Unmarked notebooks and textbooks were open in front of him. A small, almost unperceivable frown crossed his flat lips. He tugged his hat further over his head self-consciously. Sho eyed him from his position splayed out on the bed. "Well, if you didn't act like that, maybe I'd want you as a little brother. You don't have to respond; all you have to do is acknowledge my existence."
Sho plucked a pillow from the bed and tossed it at Sugita, eliciting an irritable grimace from his impassive face. He turned ever so slightly towards the bed to toss the pillow back where it belonged, in turn satisfying Sho temporarily. "Right, so, family," he said. "I don't want you as family because my family sucks. You'd suck too, if you were part of it, particularly as my brother. My family doesn't like to accept that I exist. I doubt that some of them even know I was born, in reality. I'm being brutally honest here. What constitutes a family? Because I don't think I have one."
"Welcome to the club. At least you have your beloved cousin," Sugita sneered at last. The broken silence made Sho beam, but he restrained himself from launching himself halfway across the room. Sugita pressed the tip of his pen against a notebook, marking down tiny dot after tiny dot. It seemed he wasn't getting anything done. "At least you didn't kill yours."
"Hey, I'm hurt. Don't you know me at all? I want them dead. If you can kill them, too, I'd forever be in your debt. Unfortunately, I have no means or ability to murder my family. It's complicated; I wouldn't expect you to understand. Besides, it's not like you killed them with your own hands. It's different." Sho played around with his words, but he concentrated on the boy on the floor as he spoke. There were lines that should not be crossed, after all.
"It's not even blood that counts. Blood, if anything, complicates matters. Because I'm so closely related to them, I am indebted and unable to retaliate against them. And I love Norio so much, but he's my first cousin. I'm sure if it were another lifetime, Norio would learn to love me as something more. He's never expressed any negative sentiments over such a thing, after all. And he loves me. Just not as a lover, apparently," Sho lamented. He plucked at the sheets and pondered the possibility of someone walking in while he did so.
"…Hey, I need to ask you something," Sugita said after a time. Sho lifted his gaze to the boy, but remained as silent as the air. His soft breaths were the only sounds he emitted. "How…how are you so happy? Why are you so happy? Your family wants to murder you and you've never left one room since the day you were born. You won't kill them and you won't escape. Tell me how that makes sense. Tell me how it's humanly possible."
"That's a long story," Sho said. "But I can tell you that it isn't humanly possible. Normal people would crack after a time, especially if they have the means to do so, which I do. But it has nothing to do with human reason as to why I am the way I am. It's all in the blood. It's in my cursed blood. Yours may be mutated, but mine is not of this earth at all. I am not supposed to exist. Something like me shouldn't exist on this planet, which is why I will soon die. Humans fear the unnatural. Fear leads to hatred."
Sugita was unable to comprehend, just as Sho expected. That was a granted since Sho hadn't provided the story in its entirety. Vital details were omitted and even if supplied with those details, Sugita might not have been able to understand the complete picture.
"So let me segue into a related topic: what's been on the news lately? You're fine here, in isolated Kochi, aren't you? So long as you don't cause trouble and don't reveal those compromising features of yours, you should be fine. And if you ever have trouble, I can lead you to a spot that is safe. You won't ever be found and you can live quietly without fuss or hassle, even if it might be a bit lonely. But it won't be, because I'd visit you and maybe you could meet Norio. Then again, I'm not sure I can entrust my precious cousin to you…"
"You're rambling."
Sho paused. "Right, I am." He tended to do that when he hadn't spoken for long periods of time. When he was curious or nervous, his mouth also seemed to fly away from him. Both boys in his life brought his attention to the habit without a fleeting bit of hesitation and he supposed he understood why. He frowned, trying to rework his words so that they regained some sense of meaning and impact. What had been his point, exactly? If it was about those murders, it would be easy to talk about.
"So, I've always wondered…" he said after three minute had passed on the blinking green alarm clock on the nightstand. "Those murders on the news…can you do those things, as well? You are very obviously male. You haven't been any more violent than a typical boy your age that's had a tough time of it, though. Seriously, you know it won't change my view of you much. I've been told that I'm stubborn."
Sugita was a normal little boy. That was Sho's observation from his limited, yet worldly perspective. Actually, if he had to pinpoint it, Sho would have said that Sugita was a different type of boy. Unlike everyone else in his life, Norio excluded, Sugita actually bothered to listen to his ramblings and tentatively called him a "friend". It was exceptional, so in that sense Sugita was far from normal. His mutated hair color and bone protrusions seemed insignificant. Most people only avoided him because he was moody and in foster care. Besides, Sho dared to say that he was just a little weirder.
"…I can," Sugita said in a very low, uncharacteristically vulnerable voice that was barely above a wisp of breath. The one word forced from his lips jarred along the way out, as if he had to struggle to breathe it. Sho allotted him all the time he required to form proper sentences again, twiddling with the bed sheets as if he had the all the time in the world. "I…I can do it. They're like long, invisible hands. Just like you, normal people can't see them. They're pretty solid, but can also pass through most substances- except for heavy, dense things like ore. At least, that's what I managed to piece together.
"I'm actually more like those girls on TV than you think. I'm not afraid to admit it to you, if only because you'll be dead by this time next year. But it's all true- we really are capable of such acts. And it's as easy as breathing," Sugita exhaled, as if the task were particularly laborious for him now. Sho didn't press him, though he supposed that the boy would answer if he did, because he at least understood isolation and discrimination due to a particular curse. "I've wanted to kill people before."
"Between the motion and the act falls the shadow," Sho quoted. He stared at the small mirror on the dresser across from him. There was no reflection. He, as a ghostly being, did not exist in this proper world. "It's a blessing that you live in Kochi. No one will find you here. And if they do, you have a particularly invested ally. I've told you before- it is very difficult to define a 'human being'. If you were to abstractly consider the word, you might be more human than me. People might not see that, but people do not see a lot of things."
The house was loud as ever. The little girls across the hall were giggling over something in their room and the little boys were carousing around with a football- the American kind- with shattering results. Compared to the rest of the household, even against the eldest, real daughter, Sugita was perhaps the best-behaved. Besides his chats with Sho he always minded his own business and never caused his foster parents unnecessary grief. He was a good boy. He only caused his classmates misery.
"Say, where did you get a conscious from?" Sho wondered without malice. Curiosity motivated him, as he himself had a warped conscious compared to that of his cousin. Sugita shuffled uncomfortable for a time, so long that Sho had already moved onto another topic when the boy decided to speak.
"My parents loved me. There were people who cared, once, people who disregarded my hair and horns. But because of who I am I erased them from my life until there were only people who hated me. Other than that, I'm not sure. I just decided to stop listening to the voice in my head eventually. And then I met you and I didn't need it anymore." He paused. The sky was pitch black and his room glowed amber gold. "I wouldn't mind it so terribly if you were my family, even if you're a little messed up. I want that second chance."
It was the first time Sho had ever heard such words from Sugita's mouth. The boy was undoubtedly reserved and imparted his emotions sparingly. He had never before spoken of second chances and any profound fondness for Sho. For months he had deemed his invisible stalker a nuisance and an obstacle. It had taken him two full weeks to realize that his invisible hands didn't work on other invisible items or people. Not that he would have done more than push Sho away with a little more applied force than necessary, he reminded himself sharply.
Sho allowed the boy to complete his homework in peace. He occupied his time with careful examinations of his surroundings, gazing about the cozy room and comparing it to his own formal abode. Sugita had no personal belongings of sentimental value that Sho knew about, but the room was still warmer than the one he had inhabited since the day of his birth. Even the plain bed sheets held a live, musty smell. The modern design of the desk and dresser were only objects he had seen in magazines and movies before.
"Sometimes…" he pondered as Sugita was packing away his school books. "Sometimes I wonder if they would have loved me if I were not born this way. Would they have adored their first son, spoiled him with good intentions, and nourished him with their distant, but parental love? Had I been normal, would I have ever seen and relished in Norio's inhuman kindness? I try not to think about it too often, I try not to become too bitter, but sometimes that doesn't work and then I throw tantrums. I'm really nothing more than a child."
"Children don't tend to have such negative views. They seriously believe they're invincible," Sugita scoffed and let out a dark chuckle that betrayed the ease with which he spoke the comment.
"I never have," Sho retorted, quite unwilling in every way to consider the implications of that statement. When he had first discovered the extents of his power, no amount of ego swept him off his feet while he treaded the grassy forest outside. The wonder and awe in face of the relative freedom never ceased to exist, but he had never once believed immunity possible. No matter how far he traveled or how absorbed he was with his surroundings, waking up meant another lonely day, a fake cousin coming to spread his fake cheer, or a barrage of pain he didn't want.
Of course, some things had changed. Some had not. Norio had changed. While Sho liked to idealistically believe that his beloved cousin had always loved him, it was the worst lie. He had turned around, yes, but for a time Sho had dreaded those visits more than the loneliness.
"I'm leaving," he murmured as Norio's hazy image came into focus. The little boy from back then glimmered in his mind. The first child he had ever seen besides himself had had a beautiful face when he was not thinking about Sho. It was not beautiful in the pretty sense, because at that time Sho had no mind to determine other people as "pretty" or "ugly". No, Norio had been beautiful because he had been happy.
Tonight his eyes fluttered open. Painted streaks of moonlight crawled and swam across his body, over the crusting blood and weeping wound. The moon from the mountains was always the most beautiful. Lights from civilization dulled its glow. Sho groaned as his hand twitched; the pain was a sharp contrast from the relative peace he had been in during his rest. He was used to the sensation already, but pain was pain. His opposite hand set to work cleaning and bandaging the scars the best he could manage, since that hand had also suffered in nights previous.
The clock was hard to read, but it wasn't that late yet. Time always flowed differently between his visits and his "real" time. His family was still downstairs socializing and relaxing before bed. The faint sounds of human interaction from below came through the vents and floors. For a split second in which his hand did not throb so much, he could faintly imagine himself among those family members he had never met. A smile, however small, crossed his lips. Perhaps Sugita wouldn't have made such a bad brother after all.
His feet traversed the confines of his room with ease in the dark. The little bathroom's stark white lights invaded his senses as he wearily washed away the crusted blood on his hand and tossed the dirtied towel in the hamper. The blood never really came out, so he asked Norio to bring him dark colored ones.
As he flicked droplets of water off his fingers he heard the door in the bedroom beyond slide open against the carpet. The hinges were kept well-oiled, so the door itself never made any sound. In the past that muted, chafing noise struck icy fear through his entire body, his limbs quivering and eyes dilating in terror. He had cried and whimpered in a corner, silently pleading and screaming aloud for this floor's occupants to hear. He had never asked for any of them except Norio. He hadn't had any sense or state of mind to think of calling for help from anyone else.
In the further past, he faintly recalled waiting for that sound. It was the only human contact provided to him and he clung to each syllable and hit as if they were precious touches.
Nowadays he accepted it with a stony countenance. They were all words he had heard a thousand times before without a single deviation. The pain was less painful. He didn't allow himself to be hurt any more than necessary. Quietly, head lowered and betraying his fuming anger at the injustice of it all, he entered the bedroom and greeted his father with a few muttered words.
"Sho," he said unexpectedly- quite unexpectedly. The boy in question started in surprise and prayed that his movement had gone unnoticed. A dark frown crossed his shadowed lips. It had been years since his father last spoke his name. The man began to pace, exhaling heavy huffs of frustration or anger. Sho kept his head bowed, eyes carefully trailing the man who had been the reason he existed. He shivered when he stepped out of view. It was always a game of some sort, even if his father did not intend for that.
"Japan is in a state of quiet emergency. I wouldn't expect you to know this, but there has been a recent…epidemic around the country. It interests you, I'm sure, to know that there are people out there who are slaughtering whole masses of innocent people in seconds. No bombs, no nuclear weapons; just demon children like you," his father explained. Sho knew all of this already, of course, through Norio or his little friend from the outside world. "The government is trying to contain it, naturally. They will start investigating, digging out those monsters before they can hurt any more innocents. That search unfortunately includes our family as well.
"Though it hasn't been done in decades, we have no choice but to remove you from this room. Norio-kun will stay by you at all times. You will answer whatever questions the officials ask and never, ever reveal to them what you are. There will be no way to hide those disgusting hands of yours, but we will write that off as self-mutilation in search of attention. Of course, you can't have those strange symbols on them anymore." His father's large, firm hands, the same ones he had once ached for no matter the consequences, snatched his wrists and tore the bandages from his raw skin.
Sho could not say he expected any better of the man who gave him life. He understood the deep consequences of discovery, though. There was a reason his family had always hidden their cursed sons away. The government would interfere and find out that the curse was more than spiriting away a soul from a body. It had once been used for much darker, dangerous acts. Though most of the family had forgotten ways to invoke those forms of power, it was not impossible to rediscover them.
What he was really concerned about as his father unsheathed an antique, decorative knife from his side was Sugita. He had to warn the kid the next possible chance he got. Sugita was a good kid, a good boy. And Sho knew just what dangerous situations did to the mind. It unlocked many gates within the human constitution. People were strongest when threatened. If Sugita had managed to withhold his abilities and murderous intent up until now, it was great and all, but he could never separate those bone protrusions from his head.
Sho winced at the first contact. The sharp blade, its metal no longer pure silver from age, cut into his skin at random. The first slice broke both branches of the main veins, and he dizzily processed the wash bin normally used to clean his wounds being placed below his hands. That wasn't so bad, the first cuts. Even though his newer scars burned, he could transcend the pain. He was just lucky that his hands were small and thin.
His arm and legs trembled after a minute, shaking from the override of stimulus. His mind maintained every bit of textbook knowledge he had to distract him. There were gates to pain and a pain threshold. Adrenaline had a tendency to shut some of those gates, which had once been a survival mechanism. Conscious thought about pain also controlled them. This gate control theory was a complex study, but seemed pretty solid. Sho breathed deeply, wishing that he could react and push that adrenaline through his bloodstream, but his father would be furious.
His weak constitution made his vision flicker and blur around the edges, but he refused to give up entirely. His father continued with his other hand, but the pain had long since dulled. Shuddering breaths escaped his lips and he collapsed to his knees, bent over in a haze of sweat and tremors. Low keens broke from his silence, tiny little wails he swallowed in a stupid act of pride. It would be much better to scream and let the entire house hear the pain his own father was causing him, but Sho was stubborn about the things he controlled.
When he collapsed his father bent over and instead of committing another cruel act such as choking him or hitting him, grabbed some towels he had brought with him and wrapped them around his son's fragile hands. The flesh was torn terribly and so obscured that he could barely make out the details. He couldn't feel his fingers. Tears were probably dripping from his eyes. He tasted copper. Though it hurt, his father pressed firmly on his hands for a time, trying to quell the bleeding. He wasn't being unnecessarily inconsiderate.
When he figured enough time had elapsed, he bound the towels to Sho's hands with strips of cloth. Despite the cruelty that was fresh on his skin and heart, Sho struggled to catch his father's attention. The man titled his head a fragment at Sho's weak, animalistic pleas. A wavering, weak smile was across his lips and the warmth in his eyes was probably the closest it would ever come to being filial. The man, after having lived a life deprived of emotion and public displays of expression, turned without so much as a twitch in his son's direction.
The door closed with another muffled scrape and the room fell into darkness. Beyond those walls and the thrumming of frantic blood in his ears, Sho heard his family. They might send Norio upstairs tomorrow to tend to his cousin's wounds. It barely crossed Sho's mind to be hateful or vengeful. He just wanted his cousin. He wanted his cousin to hold him and tenderly care for him, and to press his lips against Sho's forehead or cheeks. It was probably asking too much to pray for him to actually kiss him.
Then again, he thought it had been too much to ask for if he pleaded that his father might show him an ounce of kindness. Even if it was out of his best interest, his father had helped him. His father had quelled the flow of his blood and wrapped his wounds for his immobile son. He wouldn't allow the government to take him away and use him for the curse his veins nourished. They were still a family, however distorted and dysfunctional. Sho closed his aching, reddened eyes and curled in on himself as the warmth in his chest spread to consume his limbs for a little while.
He would not kill his family.
"Cruelty towards others is always also cruelty towards ourselves" (Paul Tillich)
• "Between the motion and the act falls the shadow" is a quote by T.S Elliot. The gate control theory exists. It's exactly as described in the text, if a little more complex than that.
• So things begin to fall into motion...Before his time is up, Sho will discover many new events worth more excitement than his whole seventeen years combined.