Chapter Text
October 18th, Saturday
Arisu had always been a child of many voices.
Though, a child was not the word to describe him.
He’d been told he acted older than his age—mature, responsible, helpful—and that his mind was a room no one else had the key to. He rarely spoke; and when he did, he was filled with a thousand eloquent sentences the kids his age couldn’t comprehend. His voices were measured, self-assured, intelligent, smart. None of those voices included “childlike.”
Tonight, however, all voices went quiet.
“Ryohei! Are you even listening?”
In response, which is mostly none, he blinked. His father used to loom over his figure; a big, bad, scary god. Now that he was sixteen—where they were eye to eye—his father was no more than a man.
“God, what the hell goes on in that head of yours?” his father sneered. “Thinking you’re better than us, huh?”
Us? He wanted to say, ‘no; just you, father.” But that would’ve earned him a punch that itched in his father’s hands. His mother was better than Arisu. His brother, too.
But definitely not his father.
Still, he remained unresponsive. He’d never hand that satisfaction.
A tremor of anger appeared within Father’s pupils. The kitchen lights seem to flicker—like trembling in fear.
“That’s it; you’re not staying here anymore, you little shit.” Before his little brother or Mother could interrupt, he added, “We’re sending you away. All you do is weigh us down anyway.”
With that, he huffed and stood from the dining table. Leaving his food untouched. His eldest son untouched, which is new.
Mother kept her head low, poking her food with chopsticks. Hajime looked as if he wanted to speak—furrowed eyebrows, half-opened mouth. Ever the hero, that boy. It was irritating.
Arisu just finished his food quickly so he could pack up. No use in staying here. No matter what he did, his father was deaf to him. The real him.
He hated deaf people.
Irrationally.
Which was why after he threw up his dinner in the bathroom—wiping his teary eyes—he decided he will not shut the fuck up once he arrives in that new city. He doesn’t give a damn if he’s loud. At least he’s heard.
October 20th, Monday
Sitting inside a train, he was instantly blinded by light.
No, he did not die.
Sadly.
(It would’ve been preferable if the ‘light’ brought him to heaven. Or hell.)
Instead, through the window, was his new “home”—Liwa. Generally called the Comet City.
He did his research. Barely larger than Australia, been here since 1946; Filipinos were dragged away from this place during the Spanish colonization in the Philippines. It was only when the second World War started that Japanese soldiers chose this place as a hideout. There, they built a province—normal markets, normal houses, normal streets, normal life.
Which is where he will be staying.
Not in the City.
But in the province.
…Talk about pure punishment. (Father had outdone himself.)
He groaned quietly again, half because of how his luggage kept bouncing uncomfortably against his shin, half because this place sounded so boring.
Look at the City! It wasn’t even December and yet it was adorned with a thousand different Christmas lights, big-ass trees also decorated and literal Christmas music playing as people walk. Tall buildings bright as Arisu’s future: pure boredom. That he was sure of.
Sighing, he slumped in his seat. A sheen of sweat was forming at the back of his neck so he pulled away his scarf and shoved it inside his half-open bag. He didn’t bother to zip it close.
Soon, the train halted, screeching against metal. He got off, waited at a station and got slapped in the face with too clean air, too cold wind that was determined to give him pneumonia. An unpleasant chill spread throughout his body, making his teeth chatter.
He underestimated the season. Fuck, it’s cold.
He swiveled his head around, praying for the car that was supposed to pick him up. The trees were practically bending to the wind like pretentious bamboo. Pitch black except for the eerie flickering from the lights above him. Eek.
Did he end up in a horror story? This was exactly how characters die. In a creepy-ass forest-looking station. (Was there an eye peeking from the trees?)
Thanks to all deities that maybe existed, a car pulled up in front of him. Arisu released a shudder of relief, adjusting the strap of his bag. The window rolled down and the woman smiled.
“Sorry for making you wait, dear. You’re the Arisus’ kid?”
He nodded.
A man peeked from her shoulder. “Get in the car or you’ll freeze to death, boy!”
Blinking at the sudden boisterous voice, he grabbed the car handle—flinching slightly at the frosty metal—and sat in the backseat. Warmth engulfed him suddenly, wincing at the shift. He placed his bag next to him—lurching along with it.
“Tetsu! Slow down, will you?” the woman scolded as they, again, drove at a speedy pace.
So this was how he dies.
“Bah, dinner will get cold, Sachiko. Poor boy’s probably starving,” Tetsu grinned, spinning the wheel in the other direction.
Sachiko looked at him from the rearview, where Arisu was trying to gather the last of his composure by slotting himself and the bag back into their respective seats.
“Are you alright, dear?”
No. When was his impending death coming. He got dumped by Death, and now he had to be edged on.
“I’m fine,” he mustered.
He slumped, lazily watching the view outside. Which was none. It’s just black. Sigh.
His eyes were starting to ache, so he let it fall shut.
The smell of curry got him to straighten from the couch. As punishment, his head started to violently pound.
Groaning quietly, he blinked blearily.
Wait. How the hell did he get here?
His eyes met a younger girl who was eyeing him like he was a trespasser. Now vaguely awake, he sent a flat glare back. The girl huffed and went back to placing the dishes in the sink.
No, seriously, how did he get here? Was he kidnapped? Was he part of a syndicate family now?
“Boy, don’t goggle at the floor unless you want to splat onto it. Again.”
Arisu turned to the voice, the driver from earlier. Tetsu laid the bag on the staircase. “Had to carry you like a baby. One heavy baby that hit his head.”
A wave of heat rose from his cheeks. Fuck.
Tetsu then burst out laughing, walking over to him to pat his shoulder like they were old friends. “Relax, boy, you won’t get a concussion.” With that, he walked ahead into the kitchen, asking one of the girls about dinner.
Daughters? Arisu didn’t think so. They didn’t look related.
He glanced at the green carpet on the floor. Then the Santa pillows. To his left was the door left open, the staircase, a coat hanger. To his right was the large TV, more couches with Santas (…what), and a orange-lit hallway that led to closed rooms.
He looked up. In the second floor, he caught a guy staring at him. They both blinked. Arisu stopped gawking first.
Where were his shoes? His boring white socks were a large contrast to the carpet.
His head spun towards the doorway, where his Converse shoes were untied. He stood carefully, walking over to see what it’s like outside. The same too clean air slapped him again, kinda damp, like it rained.
There were lots of neighboring houses; they did not look alike. At all.
In each house, there were different kinds of Christmas décor, colored porches. One had a reindeer as a mailbox.
This house was quite simple in comparison. He stepped out, going down the concrete. He looked up at the house. It had a sign that said, ‘Home for Troubled Children; everyone is welcome!’
…Huh.
Backing out, he got a glimpse of the sky. This time it wasn’t black—it was crowded with tiny silver stars; in every corner that Arisu’s eye caught, there was a faint trace of stardust. Not a single cloud in sight. The moon was a crescent, illuminating the village like a weak candle.
Again, he stepped back. A meteor passed by in a blink of an eye. It was enough to make him gasp a bit, smile in awe.
Another step. Were those mountains? So fucking cool.
He kept stepping back, until—
“Oof—sorry—” his foot stepped on a person’s shoe, his back hitting a shoulder. He winced in embarrassment, balancing himself. Then he turned around to bow in apology to the person. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking…” he gazed up at the boy, star-struck at the velvety white-blonde hair that had little glittery clips in the half-braid.
They met eyes.
A blank look was all he got, but his eyes; they were grey, a supposedly dull color and yet—
It was like galaxies reflected in his iris.
Or the cold was getting to his head and he’s just dumb.
“Sorry, uh—”
But then the boy just kept walking away, not even sparing another glance.
Rude.
But fair.
He sighed in relief. Sachiko-san called him from the doorway, and he walked back inside; still barefoot.
He hoped he wouldn’t see that guy ever again.