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 6

It started with a light tap. Tap . . . Tap . . . Tap.

Ryoken hadn't thought anything of the tapping except that it was really annoying. All morning, all day, all night—nonstop. Ryoken had figured something was wrong with the pipes and told Hisahito-san and Ryoko about it. Hisahito-san had said he'd take a look, and, for a while, as Hisahito-san looked, the tapping did stop, and Ryoken had a few days of peace.

But Hisahito-san then said that everything worked fine, and there was nothing to worry about. That was great and all—Ryoken didn't have to worry about waking up in water in the middle of the night—but, a few days after that, the tap . . . tap . . . tap started up again! While it wasn't the most annoying sound in the world, it was quickly turning into that. Again, Ryoken distracted himself by gardening with the Homura grandparents or reading over at their place so he wouldn't have to hear it. During the day, that worked out well.

At night, however, the tapping was louder, which was even worse! Tap, tap, taptaptaptap. Right when Ryoken was falling asleep too. Since the walls were so thin, Ryoken wondered if Ryoko or Hisahito-san could hear the noise. So one day, after enduring another sleepless night because of the stupid tapping, Ryoken asked the Homura parents if they'd heard the tapping. But the parents looked at him and laughed.

"Maybe you're being haunted by a ghost," said Ryoko as she sipped from her glass. But she didn't let the water she was drinking go down before she went into another fit of laughter, the water splattered all over her and part of the table. Hisahito-san mouthed an apology—if it was one, since he laughed himself soon after—before helping Ryoko clean up.

Clearly, asking the parents had been the wrong approach. Ryoken was unsure about family dynamics, but he was certain the grandparents had more authority. So, figuring the grandparents would be on his side, he told Homura ojii-chan about the situation and how the parents weren't doing anything about it. But much to Ryoken's surprise, the grandfather, who was so stiff that he didn't think it'd be possible, laughed too!

"I'm serious!" said Ryoken in a high pitch, his cheeks flushed.

"Okay, okay, calm down now, Ryoken," Homura ojii-chan said. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hisahito and Ryoko probably have too much to do, so Harue and I will look into the knocking for you. Not much we can do if it turns out to be a ghost, but—"

"Ugh, not you too!" Ryoken let slip, and he covered his mouth in surprise. What was he doing? He could stay with the Homuras, even after all that's happened, and that's how he was treating them? Disrespectful. But he still couldn't swallow the annoyance he felt, the irritation from his problem not being taken seriously. "Ghost or not, I can't sleep."

Homura ojii-chan smiled. "Hisahito and Ryoko already gave you a tough time, huh? Well, you can be rest assured the more responsible ones are on the case. In the meantime, you could stay here if it helps."

Ryoken thought about it, longer than intended. He wouldn't be by Takeru, but his sleep was much more important. No use sacrificing his energy or lack thereof over something so trivial. He could adjust to not being by Takeru for a few days.

"I'll stay here," said Ryoken.

Homura ojii-chan raised an eyebrow, clearly not having expected that answer. And, after Ryoken's answer to his last question, why wouldn't he? But then the older man smiled, slowly opening the door, inviting Ryoken inside, and Ryoken cautiously accepted.

"I'll get your stuff from the other house," quickly said Homura ojii-chan. "Make yourself at home."

"T-Thank you," Ryoken said, unsure of what making one's self at home really meant. He walked towards the extra bedroom by the garden, the lingering smell of sweet, rich pastries hanging on the walls. Ryoken instantly relaxed his shoulders. His troubles wouldn't bother him here. Pulling up a chair to a desk by the wall, he pulled out his book from his hoodie pocket, completely cut off from the world.

Homura Residence

Five minutes. Fifteen. An hour. Three hours. Six. One day. Two.

Takeru hadn't heard the door next to his room open or close, and it bothered him. It bothered him even more that no one would tell him what was going on. He asked Mommy and Daddy, but Mommy and Daddy pretended they didn't know what he was talking about. Or maybe they really didn't know, but he doubted it. Adults knew everything kids didn't know.

But, Takeru had noticed that Obaa-chan and Ojii-chan were around the house more often. Sure, they always came by for mealtime three times a day. Lately, though, it'd been more times. And they were also spending a lot of those more times standing by the room next to his, talking, laughing, carrying on. It was all very strange, and Takeru craved answers.

So, one day, Takeru, as he does, opened the door as his grandparents were speaking and ran up to them, his eyes full of questions. Maybe they would tell him what was going on. Or at least Obaa-chan could tell him since he didn't think Ojii-chan had the patience. Ojii-chan, however, was the first to notice him. "Takeru?" he asked, surprise coloring his voice. "What's the matter?"

This was his chance! "Weeeeeell," began Takeru, "you and Obaa-chan have been around a lot lately, but I haven't seen Pretty Boy in a while. What's going on?"

Obaa-chan and Ojii-chan looked at each other and laughed, confusing Takeru. Then, Ojii-chan coughed into his hand. "We're checking for ghosts, so you better be careful. Ryoko said she saw one in this very room, and if you don't behave, it'll get you," said Ojii-chan.

Takeru's face paled, and he gulped loudly. That explained why he hadn't seen Pretty Boy — a ghost got him! "A ghost?"

Obaa-chan nudged Ojii-chan, and Ojii-chan shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry about us, Takeru. We'll be able to take on the ghost," Ojii-chan said. "You, however, need to stay in your room. Understand?"

Takeru's eyes darted from his grandparents back to the room next to his, then back to his grandparents again as he said "Okay." Not only was there a ghost in the house—Pretty Boy's missing too! But, as Takeru slowly went back into his room, the wheels in his brain slowly turned. It didn't make sense. If Pretty Boy had been taken by a ghost, wouldn't Ojii-chan and Obaa-chan be more concerned? Or Mommy and Daddy? Yet, they were eerily calm. As if . . . as if they weren't in a rush to find him.

Not that Takeru cared either! If Pretty Boy was gone, that's what he'd wanted all along, anyway!

Or that's what he'd thought he'd wanted.

It was quiet without him, and Takeru didn't do so well with quiet. Even if they couldn't see each other, even if Pretty Boy talked way less than he did, knowing there was someone close to his age mere steps away made Takeru feel less alone, less afraid. Seeing Pretty Boy might've made his blood boil, but if he was out of sight, and Takeru knew he was close, it was a different story. Being by Pretty Boy was different, strange, tingly. Much different from when he was with Kiku or his parents or his grandparents.

A middle weird feeling.

Takeru's volatile heart and super wired brain couldn't figure out whether it was good or bad. But what Takeru did know was he needed Pretty Boy's answers about the night that tore them farther apart.

And, as much as it annoyed him, he needed Ryoken in other ways too.

Making up his mind, Takeru huffed and grabbed his dark blue jacket. If the adults weren't going to tell him where he was, then Takeru was going to find him himself.

The crisp autumn air wrapped itself around Takeru as he walked along the cobblestone, jizo statue-decorated courtyard between Mommy and Daddy's house and Obaa-chan and Ojii-chan's house. The ghost might be scary, but Takeru knew that if it took Pretty Boy, it didn't go far. According to Kiku, ghosts had little to no sense of direction. So, Pretty Boy could be in only one place.

And that place was . . .

Takeru had reached the end of the cobblestone pathway and stood at the side of Obaa-chan and Ojii-chan's house. He was about to make his way to the front door to look for more clues about Pretty Boy's location when he stopped in his tracks, the gentle wind turning more into a stronger breeze. A white dot had appeared out of the corner of his eye. Takeru instinctively turned to follow it.

The ghost?

Takeru blinked a couple of times—no longer seeing the white dot—and growled a little, feeling more antsy with each passing moment. He ran towards the front of the house to see if the ghost or Pretty Boy was there.

Nobody.

If only Kiku had been with him. The search would've been easier than a game of hide-and-seek, thanks to her otherworldly senses. But she wasn't around. Takeru had find what he's looking for himself. Perhaps, though, he had to wait another day. He was too wound up, like a t-shirt wrung too tightly, to focus. Slumping his shoulders, Takeru strolled to the back again.

Then the white dot again appeared on the side of his eye.

Takeru quickly turned, not wanting to lose sight of the dot, stumbling and kicking up some dust from the ground. At last, the white dot in his vision grew. The white dot turned to white hair with purple streaks on the side, something moving—floating, rather, with the curtains—across the barebones bedroom Ojii-chan and Obaa-chan had for guests. Takeru then rubbed his eyes again. A ghost? But the sun shone right on the moving object, and instead of a white and purple mass moving around, Takeru saw a boy no taller than he with white and purple hair, eyebrows scrunched, sitting cross-legged on a chair, a humongous blue book in his hands.

Pretty Boy!

Takeru's first instinct was to call out to him, but that instinct melted the more he stared. There was no mistaking it: it was Pretty Boy in the window, the one in Ojii-chan and Obaa-chan's house with a book that was bigger than Takeru's head. Nobody else would spend such a nice early fall day indoors reading. Ghosts made people do things they usually wouldn't do, according to Kiku, so Pretty Boy was more than safe. Taken by a ghost! Takeru wanted to laugh. But he stared instead, mouth hanging open slightly.

It was Pretty Boy in the window. Nothing about his appearance had changed—at least, not what Takeru had remembered about his appearance. Yet, Takeru's heartbeat accelerated as he looked, as if he'd never seen such a pretty boy before in all his life. Without thinking, Takeru slowly stepped closer to the house until he was by the window. Had it not been there, he'd be next to Pretty Boy and then.

And then . . . ?

On the one hand, Takeru wanted to pull the door open and give Pretty Boy a piece of his mind for making him worried, for being gone like that, making a mess of everything back at Mommy and Daddy's. Yet, Takeru's heart pounded, more than glad to see him unharmed. Takeru needed answers about that night, but when did Takeru care about Pretty Boy so much, enough to be relieved he's not hurt?

When did Takeru not want him gone?

As Takeru put out a finger to tap on the window, a throat being cleared jolted him out of his fog. He froze. Quickly turning around, Takeru saw Daddy, his arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, mouth in the biggest frown Takeru had ever seen. The boy gulped, knowing all too well what that expression meant: he was—as usual—in big trouble.

"Takeru, what are you doing?" asked Daddy, his voice low, steady.

Takeru couldn't speak. The sight of Pretty Boy had taken all speech away from him, and he had no answer. He only looked down at his red shoes. Without another word, Takeru was abruptly lifted from the ground and was being taken away, away from the answers he wanted, away from the company he wanted—needed—in a house full of adults who wouldn't tell him anything.

And Takeru didn't want that.

"No!" screamed Takeru as he wriggled in Daddy's arms. "Put me down!" But Daddy refused to let go, only tightening his grip, cold to Takeru's pleas. Takeru took one last look at Pretty Boy, unaware of what was happening, through the transparent window. Mustering all the energy he could, he finally did what he should've done minutes prior.

"Ryoken!"

Pretty Boy's head snapped upward from the book he was reading as he and Takeru locked eyes, Takeru's full of fear as well as his. Ryoken slammed the book shut and ran to the window. The last thing Takeru saw before Daddy pushed Takeru's head into his shoulder was Ryoken, widened eyes full of shock, mouthing his name.

After Takeru was forcefully brought back to Mommy and Daddy's house, Takeru was met with a high-strung barrage of babbling from Mommy and his grandparents that blended, that was undecipherable. Takeru frowned. It didn't matter what they were saying. He knew by the tone he was being yelled at. As usual. After the litany of woes stopped, Mommy grabbed hold of Takeru's arms, but Takeru didn't look at her. Finally, Takeru turned to face her after the grip on his arms tightened.

"Takeru, we were so worried!" Mommy said. "Don't wander off like that again, okay?"

Normally, Takeru would respond. Normally, he didn't want Mommy to worry because she always took his side. And normally, he'd burst into tears, saying, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I won't do it again." But that day was different. Takeru had wanted answers, answers not even Mommy would give him.

So, instead, Takeru did what he rarely did: eyeballs dry, he kept his mouth shut.

And boy, should he have not have done that. Gasps abounded. Clicking of tongues. More chattering that Takeru couldn't decipher.

"Takeru," broke in Daddy, "we don't have time for this foolishness. You're going to apologize to your mother this instant and you need to—"

"—stay away from that boy, right?" finished Takeru, voice trembling. "Even though that boy will give me answers when you won't!"

A tense silence followed, save for a faint breeze from the mid-afternoon outside. Takeru could tell from the adults' bewildered, shocked faces that wasn't an outburst they'd expected. But he didn't care. His other grandfather had always talked about always finding the truth, saying the truth, even when it bothers people. While Takeru hadn't understood, like with most things, what he had been talking about at first, he felt that then, he had a glimpse of understanding.

Takeru was going to find the truth about that night, the night that vanished in his memory, the night that had left a gnawing emptiness in his heart, whatever it took.

Mommy looked at Daddy, who shook his head, then pulled Takeru close, his head resting on her shoulder. But Takeru didn't return the embrace. It wasn't the answer he had wanted.

"Takeru, I-we don't know what we did, but we're sorry." More meaningless words. "We're just so worried about you and—"

Takeru snapped to attention when Mommy began to shake. Another side of her Takeru hadn't seen before. In an instant, Daddy gently pulled Mommy away, Mommy falling into his arms, her tears bubbling over. Obaa-chan then rested a hand in the small of Takeru's back, and Takeru turned towards her grim face.

"Come on, Takeru, let's go back to your room," she said in a voice that didn't match how she looked. Takeru knew he wasn't getting anywhere with these adults, so he nodded, not even looking at Mommy as he went through the door.

Ryoken had done everything he could. He tried reading. He tried looking at the flowers outside before the strong wind forced him back indoors. He tried pacing back and forth. But the image of Takeru—scared, wide-eyed, squirming in Hisahito-san's arms—just wouldn't leave. They were supposed to stay away from each other, not even look in each other's direction, so Ryoken hadn't expected to see him, especially in such a state.

Did Takeru still want to know what had happened that night? That had to have been it. There couldn't have been another reason.

After pacing in his room for the millionth time, Ryoken decided what he needed was an inside change of scenery. He went into the kitchen and sat in a chair by the table, glancing out of a window that had a closer view of the town's mountain, the mountain that had started it all. And the mountain, with the sun rapidly falling behind it, looked back, unconcerned by Ryoken's inner turmoil and confusion. It simply was. How Ryoken had wished he could be like the mountain, indifferent to the chaotic world around him and in his heart—the way he used to be. It would've been so much simpler.

Yet, following the indifferent mountain had led him to the Homuras. It was with them that he had to question everything, something he was never brought up to do. And even after all this time, he still couldn't figure out why. Like Takeru wanting to know from Ryoken what happened that night, perhaps Ryoken needed to seek Takeru to understand why his heart was out of sorts, why it hadn't calmed down from the moment he was taken in.

The Homuras didn't want the two of them together. After that night, rightfully so. But Ryoken decided there was no other way—he needed answers.

A creaking door jolted Ryoken out of his thoughts, followed by the low, mumbling, concerned voices of Homura ojii-chan and Homura obaa-chan. Ryoken hurriedly stood up as the footsteps came closer to the kitchen until he finally saw the grandparents.

"Ha-Hello," stammered Ryoken, his heart pounding.

Homura ojii-chan laughed. "What's with you, Ryoken? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Ryoken frowned. That again?

"Asahi, that's enough," Homura obaa-chan scolded him, playfully elbowing his rib. "Anybody would be frightened out of their wits to see an old codger like you." Homura ojii-chan merely shook his head, so Homura obaa-chan continued, "Speaking of seeing, you didn't happen to see Takeru today, did you?"

Ryoken's back stiffened. "Why do you want to know?"

Ryoken, what are you doing?!

"No reason. We're simply curious," Homura ojii-chan replied too quickly, but Ryoken could tell there was a reason behind it. And whatever that reason was, Ryoken thought it better to not tell the truth. He wanted to see Takeru get riled up because that's fun to watch but getting him in trouble was the last thing he wanted. If he gets more in trouble, they'd separate them even more.

For the sake of the answers he needed, Ryoken couldn't let that happen.

"No. No, I didn't see him," Ryoken lied, his eyes looking off to the side, the image of Takeru yelling out to him clear in his mind. The grandparents detected nothing and only nodded, seemingly accepting Ryoken's lie, but Ryoken's stomach knots still turned and turned.

"Good to hear," Homura ojii-chan replied. "Anyway, concerning the other issue, Harue and I heard nothing the last couple of days at the other house. It's safe to return, if you want to. But . . ." Homura ojii-chan trailed off as he washed his hands, leaving the smooth water to run as he dried them.

"But . . . ?" repeated Ryoken, but Homura ojii-chan only turned off the water. Homura ojii-chan and Homura obaa-chan only shuffled their feet as they opened cabinet and refrigerator doors, the lack of a definitive answer putting Ryoken even more on edge. "What happened?" Ryoken persisted.

Homura obaa-chan only laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. Putting her cooking mittens on, she said, "Just make sure you don't cross paths with Takeru, okay?"

There had to have been a story tied to why Takeru had been right outside as Ryoken was reading. Ryoken knew even if he'd asked further, though, the grandparents would be tight-lipped, keeping whatever happened under a suffocating lid, no hopes of it coming out. Even with the supposed danger that awaited him, Ryoken wasn't afraid.

He was going back to Hisahito-san and Ryoko's house.

He was going to get his answers.

After dinner, Ryoken walked across the courtyard to the other house. He could tell something was off the moment he stepped inside and took his shoes off. Something was brewing, stirring, much like the stew that Ryoken's nose could inhale from the kitchen a handful of meters away. The house that had seemed so warm and welcoming felt suffocating, the pounding in his heart having reached his ears.

He still pressed on, past the kitchen, past the living room, until at last, he was at his room . . .

. . . and there Takeru was, sitting cross-legged in front of the door, rocking side to side and humming, smile on his face, until he caught sight of Ryoken. The little firecracker smiled, but there was something about the smile that was different, more . . . unsettling than before. The air around Takeru was strange. Normally, he was like an annoying light that couldn't be shut off. But, at that moment, Ryoken's body tensed. One wrong move could result in an explosive fire, much like that night.

Ryoken swallowed hard as Takeru stood up.

"Welcome back, Pretty Boy!"