The Sun Scratched in the Stars
A Yu-Gi-Oh VRAINS fanfic
Summary: A boy on the run from a dangerous home situation falls asleep at a dojo in the countryside. Discovered and taken in by the owners, he grows to understand what love – and loss of that love – truly means, with the help of a rambunctious, fiery-spirited boy close to his age.
Chapter 7
"Takeru . . ."
Takeru's eyes looked intensely at Pretty Boy's as Takeru walked closer, Pretty Boy stepping backward. Something was wrong. Maybe the ghost had taken the real Pretty Boy, and Takeru was just seeing a clone. Pretty Boy would never be afraid of him.
"What's wrong, Pretty Boy?" asked Takeru as Pretty Boy avoided his gaze. "Why won't you look at me?" Pretty Boy only made a dash for the handle, but Takeru stood in front and grabbed his wrist before his fingers could touch it. Pretty Boy immediately yanked it away with a force that sent Takeru backwards.
"Takeru, I-I don't want any trouble . . ." Uncertainty. Fear. Takeru could sense all of that in his voice, and he didn't understand it. "Just let me through."
"But where did you go? I haven't seen you the last couple of days!" Takeru huffed. But Pretty Boy only went for the handle again, and Takeru blocked his path again. Pretty Boy usually wasn't that dodgy. "Where did you run off to?"
Pretty Boy looked away and closed his eyes. "Don't be stupid. You saw me over at Homura ojii-chan and Homura obaa-chan's house just now. Now let me throu-"
Ryoken reached for the handle, but Takeru stood firmly in front of it. The answer wasn't good enough.
"But why were you there?" asked Takeru. "You can tell me that much, right?"
Pretty Boy didn't look at him. "A ghost."
"Huh?"
Pretty Boy turned his back. "There was a ghost in here, and it was hard to sleep, so I had to go to Homura ojii-chan and Homura obaa-chan's house. That's all there is to it."
Goosebumps peppered Takeru's skin, but Takeru kept on. Pretty Boy, as otherworldly as he looked, wouldn't blame ghosts for anything. Takeru was going to find it, the reason Pretty Boy is acting so weird. Maybe it was related to the night Takeru couldn't remember.
"You could've stayed with me!" Takeru whined. "Ghosts won't get you if you're not alone. That's what Kiku says." But Pretty Boy only clicked his tongue as his hand moved to the side of Takeru, but Takeru blocked it. "Come onnnn, Pretty Boy. You can tell me!"
"Takeru." There was a sharp chill in his voice, a chill that reminded Takeru of Daddy when he was mad—no, no, it was even scarier than Daddy. "We're not supposed to be talking to each other, remember?"
Silence fell over the two of them as Takeru's frustration boiled at its peak until it finally bubbled over like lava.
"No!" Takeru shouted as Pretty Boy took a step back. "No, I don't remember! Why does everybody ask me that?"
"Takeru . . ." Pretty Boy's glacier blue eyes widened, his normal tone of voice returning.
But Takeru only continued, tears clinging to his irritated eyes. "'Don't see that boy, don't talk with that boy, don't go near that boy.' Why? Why?" Takeru grabbed the other boy by the gray hoodie collar with both of his hands. "Why won't anyone tell me anything? Why won't you? Why?!"
Takeru knew, even in his current state, he was being ridiculous. He wasn't being fair to Pretty Boy. Maybe Pretty Boy had that "get along better with adults" thing about him that Takeru could never hope to be that annoyed him. Maybe it's because Pretty Boy wouldn't tell him about that night or the real reason he was over at Ojii-chan and Obaa-chan's house, much like the adults. Maybe it's because Takeru had no idea why Pretty Boy felt so distant, even though the two of them were close in age.
Whatever it was, Takeru had had it.
But Pretty Boy only put a hand on Takeru's, firmly ungrasping it from his hoodie collar, as much as Takeru tried to hold on. Pretty Boy's hands were cold, yet surprisingly gentle.
"It's." Pretty Boy swallowed. "I."
"You what?"
Takeru didn't intend to sound that nasty.
"It's better you don't know," Pretty Boy said. "Some things you don't need to know. The sooner you find that out, the better, Takeru."
That was the wrong answer.
The pit of Takeru's stomach grow hotter as Takeru pushed Pretty Boy farther against the wall, more strength than he wanted. His rage grew with every ounce of force until, suddenly, it subsided as quickly as it came, the emptiness, the void created by that supposed fateful night returning, and Takeru had to let Pretty Boy go. The rage turned into sadness, a kind of sadness Takeru had never felt before. And it overwhelmed him.
"You . . ." whispered Takeru, feelings unknown to him a whirlwind inside his heart, his chest hurting, tears threatening to fall. "You're one of them, aren't you?"
"Huh?!" Pretty Boy raised his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"
"You're not a kid like me after all," Takeru got out. "You're weird. A bad weird."
Pretty Boy clicked his tongue as he pushed Takeru off him. "Great job figuring that out, genius," he said. "If me not constantly looking for trouble makes me bad, then that's just fine!"
Takeru gasped. Pretty Boy was yelling at him? He had no idea he could do that. But he didn't think on how strange it was for long before he realized Pretty Boy was making fun of him, another thing that he couldn't stomach.
"You're doing it again!" Takeru returned. "Why do you think you're better than me? Because you're not! You're the one who showed up out of nowhere, not me!"
Pretty Boy flinched. That looked like it struck a nerve, a nerve, Takeru realized, he may not have wanted to touch.
"And what of it?" he asked, his eyes getting wider and wider. "That's none of your business!"
"It's VERY much my business. Everything was hunky-dory before you showed up, and now you made everything worse!" Takeru babbled, despite himself. "I wish you never came here. I wish you could just go away forever!"
As soon as the words had left his mouth, Takeru stepped back, bottom lip trembling. No. No, he didn't mean that at all. Why did he say that? He needed Pretty Boy. That emptiness . . . the way he couldn't remember that night. Pretty Boy was the key to figuring it all out. Before he could open his mouth to take it back, however, Pretty Boy spoke first.
"I wish I wasn't here either."
And, for some reason, that stung. Not even Takeru had bug bites that stung that badly. But, instead of retreating, Takeru lashed out at Pretty Boy more and more to hide the hurt he felt. And Pretty Boy, unlike his usual "I'm above you" way of talking, lashed out right back. The two of them got increasingly louder until a firm hand pulled Takeru away from Pretty Boy, and Takeru nearly fell to the floor.
"That's enough."
Takeru looked up, and his face paled.
It was Daddy.
"How many times do we have to tell you two to stay away?" he sighed, arms crossed.
"But Daddy—" Takeru whined, but Daddy wouldn't hear of it. He scooped Takeru up and started walking away, and Takeru knew he was in big, big trouble then. He squirmed, he cried, he screamed. All for nothing, however, as Daddy kept walking toward the kitchen.
"No! Put me down!" Takeru cried, using all the strength he had in his small body to try and wriggle free, but Daddy's grip was stronger. Takeru's eyes watered, his body unable to handle to frustration he felt, Pretty Boy becoming no more than a blurry blob in his vision. "Please . . ."
Pretty Boy walked into his room, closing the door, snuffing Takeru's chances of discovering the truth out. Takeru sniffled as he and Daddy entered the kitchen, smelling strongly of fish and vegetables. The fish, Takeru could take. The vegetables, not so much. Daddy set Takeru in a chair as Mommy continued stirring one of the vegetable-filled pots. Takeru said nothing and only sniffled more, not even hungry for once.
It was the saltiest dinner Takeru ever had.
Ryoken's heart raced. His head pounded. His lungs were on fire. Millions of thoughts poured like rushing water into his mind.
I should've stayed at the grandparents' house.
I should've just walked away.
I should've kept my mouth shut.
I should've, I should've, I should've . . . .
The pounding headache intensified, and Ryoken laid on his side, trying to take deep breaths but coughing instead. How could one interaction with the little firecracker make him feel so awful, so on the edge?
Yet . . . so alive?
Ryoken curled up further into a ball, staring blankly at the door, his mind replaying over and over Takeru's biting words.
Why do you think you're better than me?
You're one of them, aren't you?
I wish you could go away forever!
"What's his problem?" muttered Ryoken. Maybe Ryoken shouldn't have talked with Takeru, like he was supposed to have done in the first place, but that was no reason for Takeru to shout at him. Takeru knew nothing, in many ways. Ryoken wondered then if he should just tell him the truth. Tell him what happened that night, so that he could leave him alone.
Ryoken put a hand to his rapidly beating heart. Did he really want Takeru to leave him alone, to act as if he didn't exist, though? And even if Takeru knew and didn't leave him alone, it would crush him to know he's the reason they weren't supposed to talk to each other. Ryoken stared at his shaking right hand, clenching and unclenching it to calm his wired nerves.
No, that's right—Ryoken had as much to do with how Takeru and he couldn't see each other as Takeru did, if not more. He didn't understand how, but it's clear he'd done something to Takeru for him to not trust him.
Not that Ryoken could blame him. Ryoken knew he wasn't the nicest person in the world. Far from it. And Ryoken couldn't stand Takeru either, the way he couldn't think before he spoke. Three things were clear, however: one, there was still something about Takeru, a spark he was drawn to; two, even with the two of them not getting along, the Homuras were more than willing to let him stay, which he didn't get; but, three, as long as he was with the Homuras, as long as he couldn't tell Takeru the truth and the adults wouldn't tell Takeru either, he'd only cause trouble.
That voice from the last time wasn't there, but Ryoken knew. He couldn't stay.
Ryoken checked his belongings one last time, heart pounding in his chest, swung the satchel over his shoulder, and quietly climbed through the window.
Takeru had been trying to fall asleep, tossing and turning in his bed, his stuffed animals—presents from Jii-Jii—strewn everywhere. As he was, however, he heard running footsteps, opening and slamming of doors, the low-pitched voices of Daddy, Ojii-chan, and Obaa-chan and Mommy's high-pitched, hysterical crying. It was hard to sleep with all that noise, and, as curious as Takeru was to find out what was going on, he wasn't about to risk Daddy or Ojii-chan's wrath for butting in when he shouldn't. So, he settled for pressing an ear to the door, straining to concentrate on what they were saying.
But he was too tired. He couldn't focus. His desire to find out what was happening, however, was stronger, so he pressed an ear further against the door until the grumbling turned into words, and Takeru could finally understand.
"Ryoko, it's okay," Daddy said. "He couldn't have traveled far."
Takeru straightened his back. He?
"Hisahito's right," Ojii-chan chimed in. "We're in the safe part of town, so he should be fine—"
"It's nighttime," Mommy replied, her voice breaking. "No child should be out wandering now."
Child? Takeru's eyes widened. No. No, it couldn't be. They really weren't talking about who Takeru thought they were talking about . . . were they?
I wish you could just go away forever!
The corner of Takeru's eyes watered. Pretty Boy wouldn't just up and leave like that. Takeru shook his head. Of course he would, especially since Takeru hadn't really given him a reason to stick around, saying all those nasty things he didn't mean to him. His stomach suddenly hurting, as though someone were pulling it from the inside, Takeru went back to bed, clutching a black and red dragon stuffed animal close to his stomach.
"Where did you go, Pretty Boy?" muttered Takeru into his stuffed animal. No sooner had he said that, the door was shoved opened, temporarily blinding Takeru with the dull brightness of the hallway. As soon as Takeru rubbed his eyes, he saw Mommy and Daddy, face stern and serious.
"Mommy? Daddy?" A yawn punctuated Takeru's questions.
Mommy plopped down to his level, gently caressing a thumb over his cheek. "Sorry to wake you, Firecracker," she said. "You haven't seen Ryoken, have you?"
"No, Mommy," Takeru yawned, rubbing his eyes.
"Are you sure, Takeru?" Daddy's voice boomed, and a chill went down Takeru's spine. "You're not lying to us, right?"
The biting way Daddy had asked had Takeru clutching his stuffed animal closer. Mommy must have sensed that fear because she wrapped her arms around Takeru, who could barely see over her shoulder.
"Hito, that's enough," Mommy hissed. "If Takeru says he didn't see him, he didn't see him. Don't force it."
Takeru pushed his face into Mommy's shirt, taking in its fresh linen smell and rubbing his nose against it.
"Mommy, is Pretty Boy okay?" he asked, a yawn tickling the sides of his mouth. Mommy pecked the top of his head and rubbed it slowly.
A pause.
"We're doing everything we can to find him," she said, "so don't worry. Just go back to sleep, okay?"
So he is gone. Takeru clutched his stuffed animal tighter, tight so that his knuckles were white, hand hurting. After Takeru nodded, Mommy and Daddy walked to the hallway and closed the door, and Takeru laid down on the bed, still holding the stuffed animal as if letting it go would invite even more danger.
I wish you could just go away forever!
Those words. That moment. They kept coming back over and over like a movie on a scratched DVD. It wasn't the night Takeru needed to remember, but his brain wouldn't shut it off. Takeru felt something new, something that made him wish he could take back what he said, what he did that night. And his entire body ached.
Takeru sighed and swallowed loud and hard, his throat on fire, but it didn't matter. The tears still came. He didn't understand. He didn't understand one bit. He never felt so torn before, even when Daddy or Ojii-chan would scold him for something he did. So why was the thought of Pretty Boy being gone forever breaking him down so much? He didn't get it, he didn't get it, he didn't get it! Pretty Boy was gone, and that's what he'd wanted after all those annoying days with him. Sure, Mommy was upset, and whenever she was upset, Takeru was upset. But he should be happy!
But he wasn't. Somehow, someway, Pretty Boy—no, Ryoken got to his heart. Takeru's brain was all too willing to let him go, knowing none of this would've happened if Ryoken never showed up. But his heart, his heart that wanted someone around who wasn't his parents or grandparents or Kiku clung to Ryoken, not letting up one bit.
And it really, really hurt.
"Ryoken . . ." Takeru hiccupped.
Giving someone a chance shouldn't have been that painful.
Kamishirakawa Residence
After finishing her bath and putting on her bright green pajamas, Kiku rolled onto her bed, planning out the next day in her head: one, playing with Benji; two, going grocery shopping with Mama; three, going on a walk with Papa. And then eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner after those things! Yet another busy day in the life of Kamishirakawa Kiku, and she was excited for tomorrow.
But, then Kiku's mind bounced around like a rubber ball, finding its way to thoughts about Takeru and Ryoken, so she pouted. She hadn't seen the two of them in weeks after that very dramatic incident at the Homuras. Not that she knew what happened, since Mama hadn't said—and wouldn't say—anything more than something went on. It must have been bad, though, if Kiku couldn't see either of them. Benji had been plenty company these last couple—a human baby was more fun that she'd thought he'd be—but Kiku really missed Takeru and his loud-mouth and his saying stuff out of turn that would make her laugh.
She even sort of—only sort of, mind you!—missed Ryoken too, even though he talked as much as Papa. No, scratch that. A wall talked more than Ryoken did. A very strange boy, that one. Kiku couldn't figure him out. That's why she had wanted Takeru's help in getting him trouble, to see what he was like under that "I don't care about anything" attitude. Only adults were supposed to act like that.
But that chance was blown to bits.
As Kiku struggled to stay awake, lying on her bed, a gentle knock brought her out of her swirling thoughts. She sat straight up, her ponytails rocking side to side from the force.
"Can I come in?" came Mama's sweet voice through the door.
"Yes, Mama."
The door creaked, revealing Mama with Benji, sucking on his pacifier, fast asleep. Mama's caring eyes were filled with worry, so Kiku fidgeted, the bed underneath her squeaking from the added weight.
"Mama? Mama, what's wrong?"
Mama sighed. "Ryoken's missing."
Kiku blinked slowly, not believing what she just heard. Mama then, Benji rocking slightly in her arms, sat next to her. The two sat in silence for a few moments.
"What do you mean Ryoken's missing?" Kiku finally asked. "The Homura house is biiiiiig, so Ryoken could just be camping out somewhere in the backyard?"
Mama shook her head. "Ryoko and Hito have already tried looking there. Homura ojii-chan and Homura obaa-chan checked their house too, and still couldn't find him. If he's not back soon, Ryoko wants me and Papa to look for him."
"I don't get it . . ." Kiku muttered. Why Ryoken would up and leave the Homuras made her scratch her head. He didn't really have anywhere else to go. And the Homuras were very nice people. What had been the final straw?
Mama pulled Kiku in for a hug, Kiku touching heads with Benji, who smelled strongly of baby powder.
"We don't understand either," Mama said. "We'll find him, though. And we'll figure out why he wandered off." Mama then stood up.
"Mama?"
"I'm going to sleep now," she smiled. "You should too. We'll let the Homuras handle this, and we'll take over in the morning if Ryoko says he's not back."
"Okay, Mama," Kiku answered. The door was shut, and Kiku was once again alone, still processing the news, still not getting it. Kiku could never run away from home. Her bed was too nice and soft, her room was too cozy, and the food was delicious! But, most importantly, she loved her parents too much—and maybe her baby brother too—to worry them. And as much as he whined about Papa Homura and Homura ojii-chan being too mean, Takeru was the same. So, she couldn't understand how Ryoken could do it.
But, then again, the Homuras weren't Ryoken's parents.
Kiku exhaled a long sigh. It was no use worrying herself about it. She'd let the adults handle it. After all, it was the Homuras' problem, not hers. She knew better than to spend her energy on something she couldn't control, after the last big thing that happened. Rolling herself up in her covers, she tried going to sleep.
Tap tap tap.
Kiku sat straight up, looking towards her curtains. What could that be? She was trying to sleep! Maybe it's a lost little stray cat? They tend to bump into things. But –
Tap. Tap. Tap.
–that didn't sound like a little stray cat. The tapping was too neat, like someone knocking on a door. Rubbing her eyes, Kiku unfurled herself from her blankets and covers and walked towards the curtain. She sleepily tossed the left curtain to one side, and, at first, all she saw in her sleepy state was a whitish, grayish-blue blob. Blinking several times, the blob became sharper until it became a person. Fully awake and recognizing the person in front of her, Kiku immediately opened the window, the frigid air making her shiver, but her surprise kept her warm.
"Hi, Kiku," the unexpected guest whispered first, clutching his satchel tightly. Kiku blinked several times, then rubbed her eyes again. But no matter how many times she blinked or rubbed her eyes or pinched herself, he still stood there.
The one everyone was searching for just appeared like a ghost.
"Ryoken?!"