The Sun Scratched in the Stars
A Yu-Gi-Oh VRAINS fanfic
Summary: A young boy on the run from a dangerous home situation falls asleep outside a dojo in the countryside. Discovered and taken in by the owners of the dojo, 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 2
Takeru and Kiku tip-toed across the wooden mats to a sliding door decorated with blue and white swirls and bright red flowers. Takeru looked around for other signs of life and reached for the handle.
"I heard Mommy say that boy was in here," said Takeru in as much of a whisper as he could manage.
"The boy who looks like a ghost, right?" asked Kiku, smirking as she did so. Takeru's face paled, showing his reddened face, as he fumbled with the circular handle and harrumphed.
"Spirit, not ghost," insisted Takeru in his hushed voice.
"Same thing."
Takeru sighed as he quickly opened the sliding door to the spare guest room in the house. Takeru had always been an early riser, but he was up earlier than usual that morning thanks to the fumbled noises of Mommy, Daddy, Jii-chan, and Baa-chan. It had been hard to sleep through all the noise, so Takeru had decided to listen in to the conversation. He was unable to understand a whole lot, since he kept yawning, but he could hear them talking about "that boy who looks like a spirit in the guestroom." Immediately, Takeru's ears had perked up, his sluggishness gone. There was someone here! But, if he was a spirit – or looked like one – Takeru needed to be safe. And Kiku had all the strength in the world against things out of this world. Kiku had teased him but agreed to protect him.
Upon opening the door, Takeru and Kiku saw a boy not too much older than they were, fast sleep on the tatami, facing the wall, one of his hands almost forming a fist. Takeru entered first, Kiku following right behind him. They tip-toed closer and closer until they were right next to him, fast asleep, softly breathing. Suddenly, Takeru gasped as he took in the boy's appearance. His white and purple hair glowed in the sunlight, his skin looking as smooth as one of Baa-chan's dolls – but less creepy. Definitely less creepy. He wasn't a ghost or a spirit at all.
He was . . . he was . . .
"Pretty," exhaled Takeru, louder than intended. No sooner had he said that, the boy shifted to being flat on his back and let out a small moan. Takeru and Kiku were silent, staring intently at the new visitor as he rolled back and forth in his sleep, muttering.
"Is he okay?" whispered Kiku. But, Takeru didn't hear her. He only watched the pretty boy roll back and forth, as if he was taken over by something. But, even then, he was the prettiest boy—the prettiest anyone—he'd ever seen, even more than Mommy or Kiku. He was completely mesmerized. As he would a colorful seashell by the pier or a shiny rock by the mountain, Takeru reached out, his palm touching the boy's forehead, the boy calming down, staying in place. But, then, Daddy's voice boomed in his head: "Takeru, don't touch that. Don't touch him. Stay away." And, reflexively, Takeru broke out of his trance and yanked his hand away.
"Takeru?" asked Kiku gently. "Are you okay?"
Takeru closed his eyes, gently shaking his head. "Something . . . something is weird about this boy."
"A good weird or a bad weird?"
Takeru frowned. "Middle weird."
"Middle weird?" Kiku raised her voice, but Takeru shushed her. The last thing they needed was Mommy and Daddy to find them. But, Kiku only persisted, "What do you mean by middle weird?"
But, Takeru wouldn't answer. Couldn't. He didn't know how to explain it. Sure, this boy, shiny white and blue hair and sparkling skin, was very, very pretty. But, pretty people don't have trouble sleeping—that's what Mommy always tells him. That's why they're pretty. So, why was this stranger—this boy, the prettiest anyone he has ever seen— fighting to sleep?
"Ryoken . . ."
"Ryoken, there's no escape . . ."
"You can't hide forever, Ryoken . . ."
Ryoken couldn't determine whose voice it was, but, the low, demanding tone reminded him of Father's. And his heart dropped. He came all that way to hide from Father, only for Father to call out to him.
"F-Father," Ryoken choked, suddenly losing balance, gaining light-headedness. Weakness. Powerlessness. He couldn't breathe. The breath-robbing force slowly took a human form, the human form of Father, and Ryoken's eyes widened, unable to say a word.
"You can't run forever," Father said. "You're my loyal son. And no loyal son of mine would disobey me now, would he?"
Ryoken moved his mouth to answer, but, with no breath, couldn't sound it out, struggling to get Father's hands off of him. He wanted to scream. Cry. Anything. But, he couldn't. How could Father do this to him?
"Ryoken," said Father before he tightened his grip on Ryoken's neck for the last time.
Ryoken's eyes snapped open, and, as sweat poured down his face, he shot up in bed, whacking a boy's forehead and further grounding him back into . . . reality? It had to have been reality—his forehead really hurt!
"Ow, ow, ow," the other boy muttered. Ryoken massaged his temples with his sweaty palms and blinked to absorb the new lighting. That's right—he's no longer with Father. He ran away to a town by the mountains, and he got sleepy, so he slept outside by these statues and—
Wait. What was he doing inside then? And, more importantly, – Ryoken looked at the red-and-white haired boy and the dark blue-haired pigtailed girl next to him – who're they?
"Ugh, Takeru, I told you you were too close!" the girl huffed, crossing her arms, as the other boy – Takeru – continued to whimper and whine. So the boy was Takeru, huh?
"But, I wanted to make sure he was okay," was the reply. Ryoken raised an eyebrow.
"Excuse me . . ." said Ryoken, but the other two carried on their conversation in front of him as though he wasn't there, as though he were a ghost. Finally, Ryoken grabbed the pillow he was sleeping on and threw it with as much force as he could at Takeru, hitting him square in the face, and the two of them immediately stopped and stared.
"Listen when someone's talking, will you?" asked Ryoken, frowning.
Takeru pouted, grabbing the pillow, and tossing it back. "That's not very nice of you. Throwing pillows at strangers is not nice."
"But being close to their faces when they're sleeping is?" teased the girl, and the boy's face turned beet red.
"Kiku!"
So, that was the girl's name.
The door suddenly slid open, revealing a tall woman with long brownish red hair and gray eyes who stormed in the room and scooped up Takeru by the stomach while Takeru whined.
"I should've known the ruckus was from you," said the woman while Takeru squirmed in her arms. "Just you wait until Daddy gets home."
"But Mommyyyyyyyy," Takeru whined.
"No buts!" she said. "You know better than to mess with people when they're sleeping. You too, Kiku," Kiku winced, as if someone had slapped her. "Goodness, you two together are double trouble."
Ryoken only watched, not out of amusement (okay, maybe seeing the boy who had ignored him get in trouble was a little amusing) but out of curiosity. This woman was a mother. The closest he had to a mother was Dr. Taki, but he never really considered her a mother. He remembered when he first learned the words father and mother, how he had asked Father if he had a mother. Father had stopped for a moment and thought about the question, but he had shaken his head.
"What's important is that you're here, Ryoken. That doesn't matter. And don't ask again."
And Ryoken had believed and obeyed him, as the dutiful son. But, now, seeing an actual mother brought back that memory, that memory of Father saying the details of his birth into the world didn't matter. His chest felt tight. Maybe the past didn't matter, but . . . didn't Ryoken still deserve to know where he came from? Had Father not told him to protect him? Or – Ryoken thought back to the nightmare – was it for something else?
Or was his mind tricking him into thinking it's something else?
The woman put down the sniffing and sobbing Takeru on the floor, sighing, then walked over to Ryoken and sat next to him. Up close, Ryoken had a better look at her hair, the long brownish red hair showing a few . . . orange strands? Her light brown eyes stared into his icy blue ones as she smiled.
"I bet you have a lot of questions, don't you?" she asked. Ryoken only nodded, unsure of what to say. The whole thing was too new for him, everything happening so fast. But, if there's anything he learned so far, it's that he should let things run their course and not fight them. And, oddly enough, even surrounded by people he didn't know, he felt . . . at peace where he was. His heart wasn't pounding, hands not like he'd dumped them in sticky, yucky water. The woman smiled, a warm smile Ryoken hadn't seen before from anyone.
"But, first, I have a question for you," she said. Ryoken didn't blink. "What's your name?"
Don't tell them your name, Father's voice boomed in his head. Ryoken tried to think of a fake name, but nothing was coming to mind, quickly scratching that plan. What did it matter? He's not returning to Father, and he's far enough away.
"R-Ryoken," he muttered, swallowing the last part, not looking at the woman in the eye. He heard a loud gasp not from the woman but from his other two visitors. Takeru had made his way next to the woman, his grayish blue eyes sparkling.
"Your name's just like Mommy's!" squealed Takeru. The woman laughed, a lower voiced laugh than Ryoken had expected, and ruffled the top of Takeru's hair. Takeru only giggled.
"No, no, no," the woman said. "He said Ryoken. I'm Ryoko, silly."
"Yeah, Takeru. Clean out your ears," said Kiku.
Takeru huffed. "My ears are clean, Kiku!"
The woman – Ryoko – raised an eyebrow, a glint appearing in her own eyes, getting up from the floor. "Really, Takeru? Did you actually remember to clean your ears this morning?"
"Moooommmy!"
"So that's a no." Ryoko picked up Takeru, who gave a little whine, though not as much as before. "Come on, Firecracker. We're scooping out your ears." She looked towards Ryoken and smiled. "You too, Ryoken."
Ryoken slowly got up from his bed and ran up to the woman—or more like hobbled, since his legs were still asleep. But Ryoko didn't judge. She only smiled, waiting patiently for him. And Ryoken hadn't realized then, but that moment would come to mean more than he'd ever thought.
Ryoken followed Ryoko, carrying Takeru, and Kiku out to the breezy outside. As they walked, he recognized the large open green space and statues from the night before. It must've been nice to have easy access to an open space like that. But, Ryoken still had to ask one thing.
"How come there's no one here?" Ryoken asked.
"Hm?" Ryoko readjusted her grip on Takeru, who had already fallen asleep.
"This whole area is a park, right? Is it just early?"
Ryoko smiled and shook her head. "Ah, you must be a city boy. There aren't any parks around here."
What kind of place didn't have a park? Ryoken tilted his head to the side in confusion. "If it's not a park, then what is it?"
Ryoko rubbed circles into Takeru's back. "Well, let's just say you're in a really, really, really huuuuuuuuge backyard. This is all our family land," she said.
And Ryoken thought his house was big. Well, it was. It was a literal island, after all. But to think he'd wander onto a property that would rival that . . . Then, that meant he went and wandered onto someone else's land without permission! It'd be hard to think of anyone back there who wouldn't be mad at him if they found out. Ryoken felt his chest get tight.
"I'm-I'm really sorry!" Ryoken said quickly, head down and bowing from the waist. Instead of a strong verbal lashing, though, Ryoken felt a compassionate hand on top of his head, so he brought his head up to find Ryoko and a sleepy-eyed Takeru were looking at him. It felt weird. Why was this woman being so nice to him, a stranger from the outside who slept on her family's property? Well, he didn't know it was their property, but he had still intruded. So why?
The woman rubbed the top of Ryoken's head, her eyes soft. "You don't have to apologize. This is your home now, and it'll be that way as long as you need it to be, okay?"
Ryoken furiously rubbed his eyes with his sleeves, nodding. He got his sleep. A nightmare-interrupted sleep, but still the sleep he needed. What was he so weepy-eyed for?
"Okay."
Kiku and Takeru snuck glances at each other without a word, and the four of them continued walking in silence, save for the high-pitched cheep-cheeping of birds towards the mountain.
"Alright, face-washing time!" announced Ryoko after they walked a bit farther. "Who's first?"
Ryoken looked curiously at the well in front of him. It had drains like the sinks back on the island, and handles . . . but it was more like an open tub? Were they really going to wash their faces here?
"Takeru will go first!" Kiku shouted, raising her hand. Takeru pouted.
"Come oooooooon, Kiku," Takeru complained. But, Kiku only stuck her tongue out, deepening Takeru's pout.
"I washed my face twice this morning. Your turn," Kiku grinned. Ryoken wondered then how the two were related. They didn't look a lot alike, but they sure acted as though they were brother and sister. But, maybe he thought that because he was an only child. Back on the island, there was no one around his age to play or talk or take a nap outside in the flowerbeds with. It was just him, Father, and Father's co-workers, who were closer to Father's age than to his. Of course he'd think two people close in age were blood-related.
Ryoko placed Takeru toward the sink-like contraption, and Takeru made a disgusted face.
"I don't wanna!" he yelled.
"Please, Takeru?" Ryoko pleaded with the boy. Takeru didn't budge as he wanted to make as much of a deal out of it as humanly possible. But, Ryoken didn't understand what the fuss was. It's just face-washing. Sighing, Ryoken turned on the faucet, Ryoko, Takeru – who had stopped whining – and Kiku staring at him as he rolled up his long white sleeves that he definitely didn't remember wearing yesterday. He cupped his hands, letting the cool water gather and spill through them as he threw it against his face a few times, dampening his bangs. After doing that a few times, he turned off the faucet, and shook his head to get the drops out of his hair.
Staring at a watery-eyed Takeru, Ryoken said, "It's not that bad. You'll be perfectly safe." Then, remembering how Takeru had thrown a pillow at him for no good reason and—okay, maybe he wanted to rile him up a bit—he added, with a cunning smile, "Unless you're a scaredy-cat."
"Ryoken?!" Ryoko gasped, and Kiku tried to hide her laughter. Takeru's eyes immediately dried up, and he huffed as loudly as he could, making Ryoken mutter a sound of amusement under his breath. Takeru's bottom lip covered his upper as he walked towards Ryoken, mere centimeters away from his face. Ryoken couldn't help but think of a cute animal trying to be threatening.
"I am not a scaredy-cat!" yelled Takeru. Then, using what looked like all his might to turn on the faucet and dousing—nowhere near washing—his face with water, his shirt dripping wet, Kiku full-blown laughing. Ryoko sighed as she picked up two towels on the side, handing one to Takeru, the other to Ryoken. Ryoken maintained a smug expression on his face as he delicately wiped it, Takeru furiously rubbing his.
"You three are something else," said Ryoko. "Maybe breakfast will calm you down."
Takeru's eyes sparkled. "What we having?" he eagerly asked. Ryoko only tussled the top of Takeru's hair, and he giggled. Something tugged at Ryoken's heart, and it ached.
"You'll see," she replied.
The four of them went back inside, and Ryoken's nose picked up on all kinds of food he didn't recognize, much like in Den City. Only that time around, he hadn't smelled any hot dogs. It had been a little early for those, anyway. He definitely recognized the fishy smell, but the others were a little harder to figure out. Following the others into an area, Ryoken saw an array of white, blue, pink, and brown piled on the stove. He hadn't known what any of it was, but it looked really good.
"Welcome back," a gruff, yet surprisingly gentle voice rocked Ryoken out of his food trance, making Ryoken look up out of reflex. The source of the voice was a man who looked way younger than the Man Behind the Hot Dog Cart, but not as young as the ticket collector on the train. He wore thick black glasses over his dark blue—almost black—eyes and a light blue long-sleeved oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Ryoko put a hand to her hip as Takeru ran up – more like wobbled – to the man. "You're back already, Hito? Did you even go to work today?"
The man took off his glasses and acknowledged the boy next to him with a smile, and Takeru beamed, wrapping his arms around him. Ryoken couldn't stomach the sight, so he turned away, arms crossed. Father would never let him get that close, but Father getting close to him, even during those rare times that Ryoken didn't want to be with him,was alright.
"Of course I did, Ryoko," the man replied. "It's a short day thanks to the town holiday this weekend."
Ryoko grabbed the food from the stove and gradually started setting it on the table. "Whatever you say. I definitely had more of an eventful day than you then."
The man raised an eyebrow, setting his phone down. He looked at Takeru, still hanging onto him. "You didn't cause trouble for Mommy, did you, Takeru?"
"Nuh-uh!" said Takeru, and Ryoken put a hand to his head. How could he just lie like that? In front of his father? But, the man seemed to believe it, so Ryoken cleared his throat, and Takeru gave him a look of "Don't you dare," Kiku softly giggling. He didn't care, though. He wasn't there to make friends.
"Takeru seemed to be causing a lot of trouble for Ryoko-san, making a fuss over washing his face," he said, sipping his water. Then, he rubbed his forehead. "And he whacked me in the forehead when I woke up this morning."
Kiku's giggling evolved into snickering as there were sounds of a cooking pot falling onto the tile floor. The man simply drank out of his mug, as if the reactions were business as usual. "Ryoko-san, huh?" he muttered, a wide smile breaking out on his own face. Ryoken scratched his head, but Ryoko forcefully put her hands on his shoulders, a clearly forced smile plastered on her face. Ryoken thought he saw beads of sweat rolling down the side of her face, but that couldn't have been right.
"Please. Just call me Ryoko, okay?" she pleaded through her fake smile, as if her life depended on it. Ryoken scratched his head. That was definitely the polite way to address anyone older than him . . . right? What was this reaction all about? But, he didn't have time to think on that any longer before Takeru gave a loud huff that actually almost scared Ryoken out of his clothes.
"Tattletale!" cried Takeru with tears in his eyes, pointing to Ryoken, who merely shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know why, but seeing Takeru all excited for no reason gave him such joy. It was way too easy to pick on him. The man grabbed Takeru by the underarms and sat him on his lap, Takeru, watery-eyed, still pouting.
"You can't just call people names like that, Takeru," the man said. Takeru didn't respond. "But, tell the truth now. Were you causing trouble today?" Ryoken didn't understand why the man was asking that when he already told him what happened. But, he had no desire to voice his frustration. It wasn't his place. It wasn't his family. It wasn't his home.
Takeru fiddled with his fingers, still not answering the question. The man's facial expression changed: what were once softened features, trying to understand the situation, shifted into something more serious. It reminded Ryoken a little bit of Father.
"Takeru." Something about the way the man said the boy's name brought a chill down Ryoken's spine. And it seemed to finally affect Takeru too, who frowned.
"Y-Yes, Daddy . . ." Takeru said finally, although soft, much like a wounded animal. Even Takeru's rebellious nature had its limits. The air changed as Kiku sat down at the table and Ryoko set the table in silence. It wasn't cheery or light, and Ryoken felt like taking a deep breath would make something in the house explode. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything? But, it had been the right thing to do . . . right? And there was nothing wrong with getting Takeru what he deserved . . . right? He glanced over at Takeru, who refused to look him in the eye. Maybe Ryoken deserved that, but it was still rude.
As they sat at the table, Ryoko continuing to set the food, two steps of footsteps shuffled, breaking the silence. Ryoken turned to see a woman and a man considerably older than Takeru's father – Ryoko had called him Hito, but that had to have been a nickname—and his mother. The woman had light purple hair and wore a white apron on top of something gray and burnt orange and black that extended all the way to her ankles, and the man had short white hair and a short beard and wore a green polo and tan pants, more casual.
The woman with light purple hair looked around. "It's quieter than usual this morning," she said, crossing her arms. Kiku looked up and jumped down from her seat, hugging the older woman and the older man.
"Hi, Homurajii-chan, Homura baa-chan," said Kiku cheerily, unaffected by the mood of the room. Ryoken raised an eyebrow. Grandparents? And Kiku had addressed them so casually, so were she and Takeru related after all? The older woman smoothed Kiku's hair and smiled.
"Good morning, Kiku," she said. Looking around again, she asked, "Why's everyone so gloomy?"
Kiku sighed. "Takeru got yelled at by Daddy because Ryoken –" she pointed directly to him, "—tattled on him," she said. Takeru winced. The older woman hummed and looked towards Ryoko setting the last of the breakfast dishes on the table. Ryoken noticed she was making a grand effort to not look at the new arrivals in the eye.
"Well, I say you're doing a fantastic job so far with your experiment, Ryoko-san," the older man chimed in. Ryoken detected a hint of sarcasm but hadn't dwelled on that too long before he got distracted by what the older man said. Experiment? None of them looked like scientists of any sort, certainly not like Father and his coworkers. Ryoko, although flinching, didn't say a word. She only washed her hands.
Takeru's father cleared his throat. "Enough of this. I don't want the sour mood to ruining breakfast."
At that, Takeru jumped from his chair and walked away from the table. Both his parents called out to him, but he didn't pay any attention as he walked out of the kitchen. Whenever Father called Ryoken, he was expected to respond and listen. Yet, the boy was comfortable going against his parents, without fear of punishment. How disgustingly disrespectful.
And yet, Ryoken felt pity. It reminded him of the rare moments Father, who'd once in a while get in these weird states when he worked, would scream at him. But, Ryoken wasn't about to chase after Takeru. That wasn't his place.
"Well, uh, breakfast is served," said Ryoko who sat at the table, plastered smile and all. Everyone started passing the dishes around the table, and Ryoken, without question, put everything on his plate. He didn't know what any of it was, but it all smelled so good that his mouth started watering. After all, he never got food like that living with Father.
As they ate, the grandfather cleared his throat. "So," he said, "your name's Ryoken?"
The boy had taken a huge bite of what he guessed was salmon, so he was unable to speak. He only nodded his head as the grandfather laughed, Ryoken pouting in response. Adults sure loved to laugh for the weirdest reasons.
"All the names possible, and this boy's name just had to be close to mine," said Ryoko, cutting up her breakfast into smaller pieces. "I think it's fate that we've taken him in."
Ryoken froze. Fate. Father had mentioned that word several times. It was Ryoken's fate to do this, to do that. He had gotten tired of the word after a while, hearing over and over and over again. So, Ryoken decided to defy the so-called fate by running away. And yet, in this new place, it still managed to find him somehow, though a different fate perhaps.
"Oh, here we go . . ." Takeru's father sighed, fumbling with a newspaper.
"Really!" Ryoko said, voice a slightly higher pitch. It was real easy to see where Takeru got his energy from.
"Or he's just really lost," the grandfather said as he sipped from his cup. "Like I said, I haven't seen this boy before. And this town's pretty small."
Ryoken's back stiffened, face rapidly losing color. They were definitely talking about him while he was asleep, and it definitely wasn't good.
Takeru's father nodded. "We should be focused on getting this boy back to where he's from. What if his parents are looking for him?"
Ryoken's lungs felt like they had no air. No, I just wanted to get away!
"And like I said," interjected Ryoko, "it doesn't matter. He's here, and he's staying with us. Nobody just wanders in for a vacation, so we can't be in a rush to kick him out."
Kiku looked over at Ryoken, stiff as a board, trying to eat the food of his plate, several bits of the fish falling to the floor as the adults bickered. She reached out, touching his shoulder, and Ryoken and she made eye contact. Ryoken relaxed his shoulders, his breathing back to normal. Kiku then cleared her throat several times, catching the adults' attention.
"My stomach is full, so I am going to bring some food to Takeru," she said, jumping from her chair, gathering some of the brighter colored food. "Ryoken is coming with me."
"I am?" asked Ryoken, but Kiku gave him a look that made him decide it was better if he didn't question it. "Uh, thank you for the food!" Ryoken hastily added before following Kiku out of the kitchen. He heard Ryoko say something, but he and Kiku were already some distance away.
Ryoken and Kiku walked past the front door to a brighter, more sunshine-filled part of the house without a word. Maybe this house wasn't bigger than where he was back on the island, but Ryoken certainly didn't remember it being ever bright inside, much less this bright. The only time it was bright without the help of all the artificial lights was when he would sit outside among the flowers or watch Stardust Road at night with Father. Other than that, he was truly cut off from the natural light of the world.
This house, however, embraced the sun. Natural light.
As they walked on, Ryoken pondered Kiku's action back in the kitchen. Takeru and he didn't exactly get along, so why had she taken him with her to see him? And what had been the deal before that? So, he asked her, but Kiku only turned and smiled. It might've been Ryoken's imagination, but the smile seemed pained.
"Only adults should be around for talk like that. Hearing all that talk makes you feel all serious, and I wanted to get away from that," she said. "You looked like you wanted to get away too."
Talk like that. Kiku was more in tune with others than Ryoken had thought. It was true that hearing about the possibility of being forced to return to Father settled very poorly in Ryoken's stomach, unlike the delicious, homemade, not frozen for a week breakfast. But, he didn't think he made it that obvious for someone younger than he was to pick up on that.
"I, uh, well . . . T-thank you," Ryoken said. Looking away, he continued, "But, taking me to see Takeru might not be a good idea."
"You can go back to your room then," Kiku said, more bluntly than Ryoken had expected. He thought he felt something stab him in the chest. "Takeru would be more than happy to not see you."
Ryoken didn't know what it was, but hearing that made him change his mind completely. He even got a little frustrated. Takeru had the nerve to wake him from his sleep, but he wouldn't let him barge in his room? Nuh-uh. That wasn't going to do.
"Never mind. Forget I said anything," muttered Ryoken, a light blush flaring on his cheeks, not without Kiku noticing and smiling.
At last, the two stopped at the front of a door heavily decorated with blue flowers with red and silver swirls, similar in pattern to the door to the room Ryoken had been staying in. With foil in hand, Kiku slowly opened the door.
"Takeru?" she whispered. Takeru, curled up in his bed, didn't budge. Kiku sighed, walking towards him and sitting cross-legged by his back. "Takeru, I got you breakfast," she said. Sniffing and a turn followed. Takeru stared at the foil in Kiku's hand and slowly took it from her, sitting up in his bed. He opened the foil, the room filled with a fishy and grainy smell within seconds, and slowly ate it, taking several bites before swallowing.
Kiku smiled. "Better?"
But, Takeru still didn't respond. She sighed.
"You can't be upset like this every time you get yelled at, you know," she said. "Older kids can handle it, so we need to do our best too."
"Easy for you to say, Kiku," mumbled Takeru in between bites. "You rarely get in trouble." Then, Takeru shot what felt like daggers straight at Ryoken with his eyes, then went back to eating his breakfast. "Same with Pretty Boy over there, probably."
Pretty Boy?! Ryoken's eyebrow twitched. He knew things being called pretty was, for the most part, a good thing. But, he just knew Takeru was making fun of him. "My name is Ryoken," he said, crossing his arms.
"Not anymore," said Takeru, munching on the last of the fish. "Your name is too close to Mommy's and you're not as nice as Mommy. You're Pretty Boy now."
"Takeru, you can't just decide that," Kiku spoke up.
"Why? He hit me with a pillow and got me in trouble. It's what he gets," Takeru said, although muffled because he was still chewing.
Ryoken sighed. Was that what that was about? Childish. If he hadn't had nowhere else to go, he'd leave the place at once. The adults didn't seem to think anything of him, but, this sensitive boy seemed to have a lot of problems, and for no reason. So much for wasting his energy worrying about him.
"Well, excuuuse me for telling the truth," Ryoken said suddenly, not bothering to look at Takeru, who returned the favor. But, Kiku only stared as Ryoken shoved the door open and slammed it behind him. Takeru had been right – he was in the middle weird category. She didn't sense anything bad about him, but the air around him wasn't good either. And the way he reacted to the adults trying to find his parents was weird too. If Kiku were far away from home, she would do anything to be back with her parents and her warm bed and her colorful mountain of stuffed animals.
"Takeru," said Kiku.
"What is it, Kiku? I don wanna hear it if you're gonna talk about Pretty Boy," muttered Takeru.
"But, Takeru, something is wrong."
The way she said it made Takeru sit up straight. Kiku was rarely worried. "Whaddaya mean?"
Kiku looked around, as if to make sure no one was around to hear, and, her voice a whisper, said, "The adults talked about finding Ryoken's mommy and daddy, but Ryoken looked sick when they did."
Takeru raised an eyebrow but then shook his head. "Mommy says that happens to all visitors to this town. Not used to the ellavaytion. He might be middle weird. That's not weird."
"He walked around with us before fine," countered Kiku. "I watched. Only when they brought up finding his mommy and daddy did he look like he was gonna blow chunks."
Takeru crossed his arms and closed his eyes. That was strange. Did Pretty Boy having trouble sleeping have something to do with that too? It was all confusing. Pretty people like that were supposed to be simple. If Pretty Boy was staying for a while, then Takeru and Kiku needed to find out the full story.
"Then that's that!"
"That's what?" asked Kiku, tilting her head.
"We gotta find out why Pretty Boy acts weird when his parents are brought up. Duh!" Takeru replied, beaming his big smile, Kiku returning a smile of her own. That's what she liked about Takeru: when he smiled, you couldn't help but smile with him.
"And how are we gonna do that? He talks as much as a log. No, scratch that. A log talks more than him," Kiku said. Suddenly, she slammed a fist into her palm. "Wait! I got it!"
Takeru blinked slowly as Kiku's eyes mischievously twinkled.
"We gotta get Ryoken in trouble."