HaruKan 20 : 14. kioku/memory
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"It's amazing," Youko said, "what humans can do, given a few hundred years."

Haruka leaned back in his chair and squinted around the little coffeeshop. The place was far too brightly plastic and edged for his tastes, but there was still a certain aesthetic appeal to the lines and angles. "I guess," he said, and nudged his paper cup with the backs of his knuckles listlessly. It was still full; he still couldn't quite make himself drink from other cups, half the time.

Youko made a face at him. "Ahh, Haruka-chan is stoic as ever," she sighed. She was wearing a dark red T-shirt with a flower print reminiscent of her favorite kimono, from years ago, and she'd grown her hair out long enough to braid down her back. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

"I do all right," he said. "I work in a bookstore now."

She shook her head at him. "A bookstore! Working!" she said. "That's unexpected. I thought you'd still be staying with Sugino-sama and Muu-chan."

"I got tired of eating bugs," Haruka said. "And it's drafty in their house."

"Not like --" Youko cut herself off quickly. Her smile wavered on pained for a moment, then cleared. "Ah, well. I suppose we all have to move on eventually." She dropped her eyes.

"Eventually," Haruka agreed. He shifted to stretch a little, and on his wrist, the string of bells chimed quietly. "... What about you?"

"Eh, me?" Youko blinked, then beamed. "I'm working in a resturant now -- I'm the head chef, in fact. Ahhh, it's been really hectic these days, but it's still been fun. Haruka-chan, you should come by sometime! I'll treat." She grinned. "It's been a while, but I think I remember what Haruka-chan likes."

"Mmm." Haruka sighed. "Maybe I will, soon."

"I would like that," Youko said, and from the corner of one eye, he could see her watching him with a vague, wistful smile. Her bangs were too long, falling into her eyes even when she kept reaching to push them back -- but she still looked like Youko, wide-eyed and fresh-faced after so many years. "I've missed you, Haruka-chan."

He glanced away for a moment; in the corner, a young man with pale hair was talking to his female companion, her hand in both of his. Haruka watched him smile for a moment, then made himself say, "... I missed you too."

"Aha." Youko wiped quickly at her eyes with one sleeve; Haruka pretended not to notice. After a moment, she rallied herself again and said, "That's rare, having Haruka-chan say such things ... I'm a little shocked!"

"It's been years," said Haruka. The young man at the other table was pouting now, and his eyes were light enough that, in the sunset slanting through the glass windows, they look almost red. "You're ... a friend."

Youko rubbed at her eyes again and sniffed once. "That's right," she said. "I'm your friend, Haruka-chan, so you shouldn't act so antisocial! I've seen Sugino-sama more often than I've seen you this past decade!"

The boy got up. He was too tall by far, and walked with the flat graceless swagger that was so popular now among younger human men. Haruka still watched him leave, then turned to find Youko watching him in turn, her expression soft.

"Haruka-chan," she said gently.

Haruka shrugged and glanced away. "I'm fine," he said flatly. "Something about him annoyed me."

For a moment she hesitated, and then she reached out, putting a hand on his. The bells were jittering a little, and he realized belatedly that he had crushed his paper cup. Youko's small hand was very warm against his, and there were subtle calluses on her fingers. "Haruka-chan," she said again.

He set his jaw and then pushed away from the table, standing. "I," he began, then stared at her for a moment. "... I'm going for a walk."

"Eh? Ah!" She scrambled to her feet as well, digging briefly in her pockets for correct change and slapping it onto the table before hurrying after him. He'd stopped just outside, squinting into the setting sun; from the set of his shoulders, she guessed he'd just stopped himself from spreading his wings and taking flight. "Haruka-chan --"

"Sometimes people just annoy me," Haruka said. "There's nothing strange in that."

Youko grabbed his arm, tugging. "Haruka-chan," she murmured. "Ah, you know that Kan-chan wouldn't --"

"Kantarou isn't here," Haruka said. As if in agreement, the bells on his wrist chimed.

"He isn't," Youko said, voice even. "So, Haruka-chan, you shouldn't -- just because Kan-chan isn't here any more doesn't mean you should be so -- like this. You can't just stare at anyone who looks a little bit like him, it's rude!"

"But what's the point of him not being here?" Haruka glanced away, scowling. "We don't need the names any more, but we still use the ones he gave us -- we're still here in this useless human world even when most of the others have retreated or forgotten themselves, and he --"

"Kan-chan's dead, Haruka-chan," Youko said softly. "It's painful, but we can't -- we're lucky he hasn't turned into a vengeful spirit, with how we refuse to let go of him!"

Haruka gritted his teeth. "I'm aware of that," he muttered. "I know that. He --"

She pulled on his arm. "Come back to my apartment," she said.

Youko's apartment was narrow but functional; a watercolor of a fox sleeping in long grasses hung on the wall of her tiny living room, which was mostly dominated by a tiny TV and a kotatsu. Haruka stood uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets, listening as she bustled in her kitchen, preparing tea.

When she emerged, with a cup for herself and his bowl, Haruka finally sat at the kotatsu. The bowl almost burned his fingers at first touch, and he wondered when his hands had grown so cold.

"Well," Youko said, into the long heavy silence. "Haruka-chan ..."

"This is stupid," Haruka muttered. "Look at us. He'd laugh."

"Actually," Youko said, "I think Kan-chan would be touched. It's almost been a century! And we're still missing him."

"Who's missing him?" Haruka muttered. "I'm not. I don't." He put his bowl down, and the bells on his wrist shivered. "He was a careless, stupid man, and always so noisy all the time. The silence is nice. I can sleep without being interrupted. I --"

Youko's fingers touched his face. "Ah, Haruka-chan," she said softly. "Kan-chan would laugh at this part, at least. Look at you, crying because of him."

"I am not --" Haruka yanked back, baring his fangs at her for a moment. Youko didn't lower her hand, that same damn soft look on her face. "I wouldn't, not because of -- not for him."

"Haruka-chan," Youko said again, and didn't even wince when Haruka grabbed her wrist, squeezing tightly. He stared at her like she was a stranger -- and maybe she was, with her long hair and modern clothes and old eyes. For a moment he wasn't sure which one was real and which one was the memory, and it made him dizzy. "Haruka-chan, it's okay."

"... It's not," he said finally; the bells on his wrist rang softly. "It isn't. It won't be."

She reached out with her free hand and touched his hair. "It is," she insisted, her voice soft. "It will be."

Haruka did not sink to his knees before her, nor did he say anything more, but he did close his eyes and let her draw him close.

Haruka left before she awoke the next morning -- not out of any sense of awkwardness, but because of an uneasy restlessness that rolled and twisted in the pit of his stomach and left him alert and tense even when the city outside had slowed its frantic pace for a few snatched hours of rest. He didn't leave a note, but then, he doubted that she really expected one, or anything more than that.

When he closed the door behind him, the bells on his wrist jangled, louder than he'd heard them in years. Haruka paused, and then put his hand over them to still their movement. For a moment, a smile flickered across his face and then was quickly repressed.

"Shut up," he said. "You idiot."

And then he headed off along the hallway, down the stairs and out the door, on his way to work.