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 8

Kamishirakawa Residence

Kiku's outburst hung in the air as Kiku and Ryoken stared, she standing on the plastic wood floor with her green-socked feet, he being glued in place with his frayed light gray sneakers.

"Can I come in? It's cold out here—" Before he could finish, though, Kiku grabbed both his cheeks and stretched them, her eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing. He took a big step backwards.

Not the welcome he expected.

"What's the big idea?" he huffed.

Kiku put her hands on her hips, her pout growing, as she studied Ryoken more, her right eye looking so hard, it twitched.

"The big idea, Ryoken," Kiku explained, "is I had to make sure you were Ryoken and not an evil ghost. You feel real, so you must not be a ghost."

Ryoken only stared, his mouth open. What's with these people and ghosts? First the Homuras, then Kiku. It's ridiculous. Ghosts weren't real! Father said so, so it had to have been the truth. There's no way Father could be wrong.

A chill, however, ran through Ryoken. He shivered, putting his hands in his hoodie sleeves. "Please, Kiku," he pleaded, "can I come in?"

Kiku made a "hmm" sound for several seconds, eyes closed. Then, sighing, she stepped to the side. "Okay, but take your shoes off first. Papa just cleaned the floor." Ryoken nodded and did as instructed, leaving them in a crook underneath the platform where the window met the ground. As soon as his socks touched one of the rugs, Ryoken thought he'd collapse from all the pain leaving his body, but he strengthened his nerves. It wasn't his house or the Homuras, plus he only needed to rest for a few moments. He couldn't relax so carelessly.

Ryoken watched as Kiku wordlessly took several blue and green polka-dot pillows and blankets from a drawer, tossing them on the floor next to her bed.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Kiku returned. "It's much too late to go anywhere right now. You need sleep."

The patterned pillows and blankets grabbed Ryoken's attention, his resolve fading a tiny bit. No doubt they were clean, fluffy, warm. Ryoken, however, shook his head. He did take his bath before leaving the Homuras, but who knows what germs he dragged in from outside. He couldn't dirty those sheets. Ryoken opened his mouth. "No, Kiku, I just need to rest my feet a little, then I'm leaving," he wanted to say. Something about Kiku's face and the way she sighed as she prepared Ryoken's makeshift bed, though, glued his mouth shut. So he simply watched. He was the guest, anyway. He wasn't supposed to make demands.

After Kiku smoothed and fluffed the last of the pillows, she wordlessly climbed into her own bed, sheets over her head, no eye contact with Ryoken, who stared at the pillows and sheets on the floor. A few moments later, a strained whisper came through the sheets: "Good night, Ryoken."

"Good . . . night, Kiku," Ryoken replied. He was staying the night at Kiku's, and that was that. He reached into his satchel, pulling out his wrinkled light blue pajamas. Ryoken could hear a faint inhale and exhale from Kiku's bed. After confirming she was asleep, he quietly shed his outside clothes, crumpled them in a ball, and changed into his pajamas, rolling the ball of clothes under Kiku's bed. Combing through his hair with his fingers several times, he rolled into his temporary bed, staring at the sea waves on the ceiling. He stared and stared, trying not to think of what happened at the Homuras, of what went on between him and Takeru. It crept into his mind anyway.

Ryoken had done the right thing. He's sure of it. Takeru had said things were fine before Ryoken showed up, so they'd be fine—he was certain—once Ryoken left. It'd been one horrible thing after another since he got there, so he couldn't trouble the Homuras anymore. It wouldn't have been fair to them.

He turned, facing the window. Then, the Homuras crossed his mind. The grandparents were still awake, but Hisahito-san and Ryoko-san might've been asleep. That left Takeru, and Ryoken scrunched his eyebrows. The little firecracker was so unpredictable, who knows what he's doing. He probably hadn't even noticed the room next to his was quiet again, empty of his next room neighbor.

But Ryoken couldn't shake the uneasiness in his gut. Frustrated, Ryoken pulled the sheets over his head, seeing only a light blue. What did it matter what Takeru was doing? What did it matter what any of them were doing? That wasn't his home, and neither was where he was. Before anyone else got up tomorrow, Ryoken would be on his way. His way to where? He didn't know. Away, at the very least. Away so no one could find him. He had made a big mistake, running away from Father. Maybe it was time for him to return.

You can't go back there.

Ryoken frowned. The voice he kept hearing should tell him what he should do instead of what he couldn't do or hadn't deserved to feel. It's no better than Father and his demands—no, at least Father and his demands made sense. What did it want, and why was it annoying him?

"Why?" Ryoken whispered into the silence, fully expecting to hear the voice again, as if he were talking with someone. But there was no reply. The voice dared Ryoken to know the answers, frustrating him even more. What the heck did he know? He's just a kid!

A kid who would've been in danger had he stayed there.

There it was.

And it was right.

The only way was forward, not backward. He would see Father again, but it wasn't time yet. In the morning, the Homuras, Kiku and her family, his questioning of everything he's ever known—they'd all be memories he'd hopefully forget. He'd keep moving. He'd get up before everyone, and, like the ghost everyone thought he was, vanish, without a trace.

His racing mind finally at peace, Ryoken let sleep take over.

But, as the stars would have it, Ryoken was the last in the house to wake up the next day. By the time Ryoken finally opened his eyes, Kiku's bedroom was aglow with the late morning bright yellow sun peering through the sheer curtains. Ryoken quickly turned towards Kiku's bed, only to find the sheets neatly folded, the pillows arranged in a bouquet formation, like Kiku never slept in it at all. But Kiku herself was nowhere to be found.

Ryoken laid back on his half-folded pillow, arms stretched out in defeat. The one time he needed to be up early so he could make his grand escape, and he failed. But, then again, there wasn't anything or anyone in the house to stop him from leaving. He could grab his stuff, sneak out through the window, and leave. No one would ever have to know. Kiku could think she simply imagined him ever being in the house, shrug, and move on.

Ryoken forced himself to sit up, reaching for the ball of clothes he'd rolled under Kiku's bed the night before—only to be continually grasping at air.

What?!

Ryoken, on his hands and knees, looked underneath the bed, scanning the entire underside for his light grey hoodie, pink shirt, and light grey pants clothing ball.

It was gone!

Ryoken's head snapped toward his bed. His satchel was still against the wall, so that was good. But why were his only other clothes missing?! He couldn't leave town without them, especially since it was more bone-chilling by the day outside. Outside! He still had his shoes outside, right? He quietly ran to the window, pulled aside the curtain and the door, and peered over to where he'd left his shoes the night before. They were gone too!

Had he gotten up early like he wanted, he wouldn't be having this problem. Furiously scratching his head, Ryoken defeatedly laid back down on his bed, arms stretched out in surrender, a groan escaping from his mouth.

Fate, the stars—they were nothing but a cruel joke.

Ryoken's eyes found their way to the ceiling, the chirping of birds next to the window lulling him further . . . and further . . . and further back to sleep. His eyelids started drooping, his heart relaxing, muscles untensed, and he let the comfort of his makeshift bed wrap around his body . . .

. . . only to be interrupted by the clicking and opening of the bedroom door. Ryoken sat up, blood rushing to his head so that he was in a daze. Squinting, he saw something dark blue moving around, and, blinking a few times, that something dark blue slowly turned into Kiku darting back and forth from the other side of the door to her sunlit covered room. At last, she brought a small tray with a light brown slice of bread with a layer of butter on top resting on a china plate with a small cup of green tea to the side before gently closing the door with her foot. She sat the tray next to Ryoken, who stared in confusion.

"Is something wrong?" Kiku pouted. "Mama made this, so it should taste fine."

Ryoken stared further. "Does. Does she know I'm here?"

"Nope," replied Kiku. "From the sneaky way you showed up last night, I thought it was best if no one knew. So," Kiku put her pointer finger and thumb together and made a crossing motion across her mouth, "I kept my mouth shut."

Ryoken exhaled slowly, relieved, letting the sneaky comment slide. But, as he gave thanks for the sliced bread and tea and reached for the bread, Kiku added, "It was hard though, with everyone is looking for you."

Ryoken dropped his barely eaten bread on the plate, the bread making a clinking sound and sprinkling crumbs.

"What?"

Kiku nodded. "Uh huh. Mama Homura called Mama last night. She said you were missing. And this morning, Mama said you never went back. But Mama and Papa Homura had work, so we and Homura ojii-chan and obaa-chan spent aaaaaalllll morning looking for you." Kiku rubbed her feet. "My feet still hurt."

Ryoken's heart pounded in his chest. The Homuras not only had noticed, but they were looking for him? He hadn't expected that. All of them—all of them should be glad there was one less mouth to feed, one less body to take care of, one less person to worry about. He had been nothing but a bother to them. Yet they were looking for him?!

"They shouldn't bother. I'm not going back there," mumbled Ryoken, hoping that Kiku hadn't heard. But Kiku's hearing proved to be stronger than expected, her eyes momentarily losing the sparkle that had shone through before.

"Why not?"

Ryoken's shoulders stiffened under her accusing gaze, but he still found courage to speak what was on his troubled mind: "I don't have to tell you. You don't need to know."

Kiku sat back, the sparkle in the eyes returning, but her eyes widened, her eyebrows raised the highest possible. The chirping of birds occupied the silence between the two. Kiku sat back, biting her lower lip. There was a long pause—so long, that Ryoken had thought Kiku had fallen asleep with her eyes open. As he opened his mouth, however, Kiku's eyes narrowed.

"I need to know," she said. "I need to know, Ryoken. Why you ran away, why Mama and the Homuras are looking for you, why—" Kiku swallowed hard, a small cry escaping her throat, "why I can't see Takeru, my best friend. Why, Ryoken?"

Ryoken's eyes wandered to the light shining through the window, and he hugged his knees closer to his face. He realized then that his mistake that night, the night he showed he was truly Father's child, did more damage than just to Takeru or the Homuras. Kiku was hurt too. So was her family. And he hadn't known how to fix any of it, except for running away. But that way was backfiring.

Ryoken might not have wanted to tell Takeru what happened since he hadn't wanted to hurt him, especially since that night ceased to exist in his memory. But Ryoken keeping the truth captive wasn't going to work with Kiku. In fact, hiding the truth would only hurt her more than if Ryoken would simply fess up. The way Kiku had asked "Why?", the way Ryoken could hear her pain and loneliness—it told him everything. Kiku, too, was looking for answers, answers that the adults refused to give her. But, unlike Takeru, Kiku had nothing to emotionally lose by knowing the truth, even if it didn't put her friend in the brightest light.

So, instead of running away or dodging the question, Ryoken took a deep breath. "Okay, Kiku. I'll tell you."

After taking a sip of the warm green tea, Ryoken recounted everything that happened, beginning from the evening Ryoken had told Takeru to not be late for dinner. He didn't spare any moment, not even Takeru choking or pushing him against the wall. Not even him returning the favor by slapping Takeru across the face that night as Ryoko-san and Hisahito-san watched. He had expected Kiku to interrupt him, to say something like "Takeru would never do that!", to completely deny that Takeru would do anything of the sort simply because he was her friend or say how horrible Ryoken was.

But Kiku simply listened, closing her eyes occasionally as he went on, his throat feeling cramped, dried out as he did so.

When Ryoken had finished, chattering and chirping from the outside and food sizzling filled the silent space between him and Kiku. The smell of a baked sweet delicacy reached his nose, and his stomach rumbled despite the fact he had just eaten the buttery toast. Ryoken's face pinked, hoping Kiku hadn't heard. But judging from her eyebrows, Ryoken saw she was deep in thought and hadn't noticed.

Kiku then relaxed her face, eyes calm and understanding.

"Kiku?"

"Thank you for telling me, Ryoken," Kiku said finally. "I knew something was going on. But no one would tell me what. So, it makes me happy you told me. But . . ."

Ryoken raised an eyebrow. "But?"

Kiku closed her eyes and smiled. "You . . . really are a little stupid."

What? "Huh?!" Ryoken's mouth hung open. "What does that mean?"

"It just feels, well, weird. You feel bad about doing that to Takeru, but you still want to be with him. And Takeru wants to be with you. But you keep pushing him away." Kiku opened her eyes, her deep brown eyes concentrating deeply on Ryoken's. "And the Homuras want to help you, but that makes you feel icky. But you want that help too. You want it, but then you shove it away."

Ryoken's shoulders stiffened. There was no doubt about it – she's right. His heart was being pulled in many directions, and he wasn't sure which direction to take. On the one hand, he wanted life with the Homuras. He wanted that warmth, that understanding, life that had been unthinkable before. But he knew that wasn't his true home, that it was only temporary. And with every fight with Takeru, it was more and more obvious he could never belong there.

Takeru didn't want him there. So why would he –

"And Takeru wants to be with you."

Ryoken's eyes widened.

"Kiku," Ryoken stared at the floor, "how . . .?"

"How?"

Ryoken swallowed. "How do you know Takeru wants to be with me?" When Kiku only blinked, he continued, "He's done nothing but yell at me, saying I should've never showed up. He doesn't want anything to do with me. So how?"

Kiku smiled. "And that's why you're a little stupid, Ryoooken," she said as she pushed herself closer to Ryoken. Taking her thumb and her pointer finger, she flicked Ryoken on the forehead, causing Ryoken to yelp and put his hand on the middle of his forehead, which stung.

"What was that for?" Ryoken huffed, but Kiku giggled.

"You think way too much," she said as Ryoken massaged his temple. "You have to be here, Ryoken, not anywhere else. You might understand more things that way."

"That . . ." Ryoken sighed, ". . . doesn't answer anything."

"I know 'cause Takeru's my best friend." Kiku grinned. "He might get words mixed up. And he lets his hands do the talking before his mouth does. But his big, big, biiiiig heart makes up for it. You know that by now, right?"

Ryoken stared at his hands. "He just wants his answers that he's not getting. It's got nothing to do with me." A pause. "I'm not . . . his heart doesn't want me."

Kiku sighed as she stood on her feet. She walked out of the room for a few moments, then returned with a pile of clothes, setting them in front of Ryoken. Ryoken blinked. These were his!

"You might still be a huge puzzle to me, to us, but," Kiku smiled, "you can trust us. Mama, Papa, and me . . . Mama and Papa Homura . . . Homura obaa-chan and ojii-chan . . . and Takeru too. We really, really care about you. That's why the adults are looking for you, why Takeru misses you."

Ryoken felt a lump in his throat. He was still tired, so it made sense. But that reasoning alone wasn't enough to stop him from shedding a tear. Or two. Or several. Kiku saying all of that shouldn't have made him so weepy-eyed, but it had. What was it? What was making Ryoken that way? It's not like Father and his coworkers who were the closest he's had to family hadn't cared about him, so there was nothing unusual about what Kiku said. He's been cared about before.

But . . . but not like he's been with the Homuras or Kiku's family.

The caring Father and his coworkers had done, and the caring the Homuras and Kiku's family were doing—they were vastly different. As long as Ryoken did what he was supposed to do, Father, Dr. Aso, Dr. Taki, Dr. Genome cared. They cared a lot. Any big thing Ryoken did or learned and was able to practice was an occasion for a party.

But when Ryoken didn't achieve, what had they done?

"Not now, Ryoken. I'm busy."

"Sorry, Ryoken-sama, but could you eat by yourself? I'm in the middle of something."

"Humblest apologies, Ryoken-sama. There's something I have to do first."

"Thanks for the help, Ryoken-sama. Your pay. See you tomorrow."

Ryoken hugged his knees to his chest, eyes watering. Who was he when he wasn't winning the praise of Father and his coworkers by showing off his knowledge? Who was he when he wasn't impressing anyone else with his smarts?

Ryoken hadn't realized he was shaking until he felt a hand on his arm, which trembled in the touch. His head shot up, tears streaming, nose threatening to run, and he looked at Kiku, her eyes filled with worry. He immediately rubbed his face on his sleeves, the evidence of his frustration and hurt wiped on the fabric. But fresh tears took their place.

Why?

"Are you okay?" Kiku asked as Ryoken tried with all his might to keep a sob from bubbling out of his throat.

"I. I-I."

But the sob escaped, and Ryoken held a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. Kiku, however, gently pulled it away.

"You can cry," said Kiku. "Takeru does it all the time. It's okay."

Even so, Ryoken put his head on his knees, not wanting her to see the hurt, the confusion, the irritation spilling all over his face, not wanting her to hear the sobs that wouldn't stay in his throat. As much as he didn't want her to see, however, he felt a hand rub up and down his back—a gesture that did calm him down. His body stopped shaking, but the tears continued to flow.

"Ryoken . . ."

"Kiku, what should I do?" he interrupted her. "I don't want to be confused. I don't want things to be like this! What do I need to do?!"

A pause.

"Go back to the Homuras," she said. "Go back to Takeru. Tell him how you feel. Other than that, only you know what you need to do."

Ryoken clutched his knees tighter, his knees leaving a stinging mark on his forehead. Go back? When the Homuras wouldn't let the two of them near each other?

"Weren't you listening? The Homuras aren't gonna let me—"

"Live a little, will you?" Kiku sighed. "Maybe the adults built this wall between you and Takeru, but you just have to smash through it, even if it makes them mad." Ryoken looked up as she stared off to the side.

"Kiku . . ."

She stood up and stretched. "I snuck your hoodie, shirt, and pants in the wash. They should be dry by now. If you put on your clothes, you can be on your way. To the Homuras or away from this sleepy town. Whatever you want to do."

Ryoken rolled the clothes in his hands, then he looked out the window, at one of the trees whose leaves were mostly bright orange. The thought of going back to Father, even though Ryoken hadn't known Father's plans, made his stomach churn. He knew it wasn't safe. Yet he couldn't leave town either. But he also he couldn't go back to the Homuras. His heart was saying it wasn't time yet. He would go back to them sooner rather than later. But he needed space for a while longer, to get his heart in order.

And Kiku's room, with its bright window and inviting walls, was that space, if she allowed it.

"Would it . . .?" Ryoken swallowed. "Would it be okay if I stayed here?"