Chapter Text
It’s surprisingly a sunny day. The sunlight dashes in from the window as the curtains have been spread wide open. Its heat warms the contours of Nagi’s face, yet the chill wind cools it away. As if standing before a fireplace as the cold winter wind freezes you.
He leaves his moist hair uncombed, only forming the front with his bare hands just so that he can see clearly. It’s visibly obvious how his hair had grown over the past month, a lot longer than he usually had. He stands before the tall rectangular mirror, his reflection slightly blurred from the dust.
He puts on his thick white wooly sweater and then his pants. Although the sun may have set the mood for the day, Nagi’s room remains the same messy place it has always been. Gray, depressed, and reeks of despondency and desolation amidst the warm light that shines upon it. His clothes are unironed, unwashed, and haven't been worn in so long, yet still he wears them anyways. It took him a few minutes to get them to fit properly. Usual time.
He drags his gray trusty backpack from the closet to the bed, stares at it, and after a few seconds: right, needs something inside. He places in a lavender-tinted water bottle, his IDs, and his white circular wallet with dots for eyes and an x for a mouth engraved on it.
There’s not much to bring, he thinks, scurrying through his drawers to check if he needs to bring anything else. Nothing important, he thinks, scratching his head.
One step. Two steps. Each step that Nagi took had to be careful, as if on a tightrope, making sure he didn't soil his white shoes from accidentally pouring a paper cup with leftover juice, or a carton of rotting food. Surprisingly, Nagi is more conscious of his appearance than usual, taking matters at hand to ensure that he ends up looking, at the very least, nice. That was what Reo always had told me, even if Reo himself believed that Nagi need not to change himself. Still, it would be better to look great, would it not?
Nagi, with his backpack hanging on his left shoulder, and his back hunching, grabs his keys from beside the front door. It’s a group of keys, bronze and silver-looking. A set of keys tingling as they hit one another. One of the keys has Reo’s name written on it, and another similar key has Nagi’s. It also has a simple rabbit keychain attached to it.
Door opens, and the door locks. Click. For the first time in a while, Nagi has left his solitary rabbit hole. To him, it was a breath of fresh air, or a change of pace, rather. But the mere thought of having to walk a hundred more steps past the door drained him out and left him feeling down.
Hassle. He complains again, but it was a choice he made. And it was a choice he made for himself.
The place is dull and monotonous. Small three-story apartment complexes painted in bright colors that have been eroded by rain and sun over the times, leaving only muted colors for people to see. A once colorful place eventually dries and withers out like the leaves of a tree on the brink of fall. The passage of time is inevitable, and so is the change that comes along with it.
As usual, the neighborhood is silent. Back then, the only sounds you’d hear were the chirping birds, a passerby’s steps, and Reo’s voice. There are no hissing cars or speeding cyclists, no friendly greetings or high schoolers chit-chatting. Nothing. Unlike the buzzing cities Reo usually stays in, the toned-down suburbs soothes Nagi’s tired self. He thinks normalcy has wonders too.
Nagi never really left the apartment alone even back when he still lived nearby his old high school. The very same apartment he had grown up in, the apartment his parents had left for him as they traveled overseas. Reo would often accompany him on his walks, sometimes on his bike, or if needed, his limousine.
The Reo-Limousine. Sometimes the limousine would speak endlessly about how his days went on, sometimes it’s just a long car. Sometimes the limousine would carry him around the place, sometimes it's a cold refrigerator. And Nagi prefers not one over the other. As long as Reo was present, he was fine.
Not even having walked a block away, Nagi’s noodle-weak legs have already given up. His knees are trembling like a two-legged robot keeping itself steady. If he isn’t careful, he could trip and tumble anytime soon.
Nagi’s stomach churls, a growling thunder from within. He hasn’t properly eaten for months, nor a simple jelly juice for almost a day. His stomach hurts. A thousand little worms slowly eating his inside, wild vultures scavenging for meat. But Nagi is too accustomed to this unsightly feeling.
Hungry… He groans.
Is there a ‘konbini’ nearby?
The place has many convenience stores. In fact, too many, scattered across the place like a contagious virus left uncontained. And yet, business still booms. Reo had often explained how these things work, the working economy of the world, but Nagi never took an interest in such topics. Reo’s soothing voice was enough to put him to sleep.
He pushes the door into one of them, cold air brushing to him from the inside. Upon opening, fresh fried chicken, coffee, and cold refrigerated drinks are the first things he smelled. The hungry Nagi is sent to a state of desperate hunger.
The clerk notices him and greets him, “Hello, si–”
Nagi cuts him off and goes straight to the aisle filled with trays and trays of instant tea. Small boxes and pre-opened packs sat side by side on the shelves. His eyes skim through them before realizing he isn’t going to get tea. Ah, I need juice.
He then drags his tired flimsy hundred-and-ninety centimeters tall body towards the other aisle, hoping to get a bottle of jelly juice. Nagi never really found it interesting. Not until his high school classmates one day brought it up in a conversation in class. Curious, he bought one for himself and it has stuck with him ever since. Even if the trend has died out, Nagi remains the sole buyer of the drink. Cheap and filling, the bottle is enough for Nagi to supply what he needs.
But unfortunately,
There is no jelly juice.
“Ah, no jelly juice.” He muttered.
The other clerk fixing the shelves of biscuits overheard him and suggested, “I’m sorry, sir, the new batch of jelly juice hasn’t arrived yet. But there are other juices by that side if you want.”
Nagi stares at the rows of unfamiliar juice bottles locked behind the refrigerator's glass doors. There are too many options to choose from. Should he get apple juice? Strawberry? Orange? This is troublesome.
Minutes have passed, and finally, he opens the door and closes his eyes before reaching out in a random manner. If he can choose not to choose, he chooses that one.
He ends up getting mango.
Out of habit, he also picks another one. This time, of blackberry flavor. Reo’s favorite. Nagi never understood Reo’s weird sense of taste, but he makes no complaints anyways. He goes up to the cashier with two bottles in his hand, freezing. The clerk takes them and scans them under the barcode reader.
“That’d be 300 Yen, sir.”
Ah, right. Nagi realizes that he needs to bring out his wallet from his bag. He shoves his hand inside to take it out, and pulls out just enough cash to buy the two drinks.
With a plastic bag in his hand, he can finally start to actually visit the hospital.
✦
Nagi realizes he needs to get a cab. Those white, yellow, or black cars that take in passengers for a fee. Nagi rarely gets in one, but in most cases, he finds it convenient. He looks around him, only to find a barren-looking place. Apart from the newly-established store he had just gone out of, of course.
The place is rowdy, filled with mounds and mounds of leftover granite and concrete left lying by, garbage cans tumbled open, cracked stone and crooked bushes lay about. Tattered tarpaulins and scratched posters pasted on top of one another are everywhere. Leaves overgrown and some box cartons scattered. The place is barren and deserted, empty and alone. There just isn’t anything eye-catching at all. Perhaps there are no cabs that pass by this road. Lame.
It smells of moist grass and mud. Of dried up rain, and water piling up by the streets. But it doesn't smell bad. It was just as plain as watered-down soup. The cold but also somewhat warm air still remains static, still. Humid, in other terms. Although the air is cold to touch, Nagi is already sweating inside his jacket.
Nagi brings out his phone from his pocket, a little irritated that he wouldn’t be able to play his games as he goes. Realizing something is amiss, he clicks on his phone’s messaging app and taps on Chigiri’s contact number.
nagi: omw
He sends a short but direct message. Chigiri, like the messaging addict he is, replies rather quickly.
+81 chigiri
Holy shit youre actually going
Are you actually going??
Nagi please answer
Nagi has his phone on his hand, buzzing like a bee trying to escape its cage. The notifications are annoying. Nagi should’ve just called.
+81 chigiri
Please tell me you took a bath
Nagi
nagi: mm
+81 chigiri
Thank god
Also dont forget to bring a gift
Nagi should’ve expected that. After all, he is going to meet Reo later. He is bound to get one anyway. Should he bring flowers? A cake? Chigiri has always been the one to remind Nagi to get Reo at least something. Even the simplest of presents. From flowers, to handwritten cards, to food, whatever was available, Nagi would always be reminded to get one for Reo.
He then realizes he already has this bottle of blackberry juice that he just bought. That’s good enough. Going back to the store would be a hassle.
nagi: can you get me a taxi
+81 chigiri
Gosh when reo said you’re a baby
I didn’t expect you to actually act like one
nagi: oxo
+81 chigiri
Fine. just don’t go missing or anything.
What’s your address?
Nagi types in the street name, as well as the convenience store’s behind him.
+81 chigiri
There there, it’s otw
oh once you get there
apologize.
=)
nagi: thx
At the sidewalk of a lonesome street, Nagi opens his gacha game to pass the time, collecting his daily log-ins and rewards. He stands there, silently waiting for this cab to arrive.
✦
The room is frigid and cold. Constantly being cooled down by the seemingly strong air-conditioner, which lets out a soft whirring sound from the fan spinning within. One touch upon the metal railings of the bed would send shivers down your spine.
The earthy brown window blinds were all turned down, barely letting any outside light in. The ceiling lights were all turned off, and only an expensive-looking modern lamp of silver and gold lit up the bedside with a soft warm yellow glow. The heart rate monitor was also lit up, showing numbers in green and yellow, along with some other charging devices by the ports around the room.
Yet albeit being in a hospital, the room is more like a hotel. A suite. A place of luxury and grandness. The walls are covered in marble, and the flooring a finely sanded and varnished brown wood. A TV across the bed, a table and a desk on the corner, along with a soft lumpy sofa embossed with the most intricate of patterns. On the wall above the bed sat a large, beautiful painting of white and violet flowers.
The room is spacious, a symbol of grandeur. To be able to afford such a room of beauty is a symbol of status. The room is a Mikage’s lair. A Mikage’s world of wealth and power. Even if the Mikage within is confined to his bed for weeks gone by and months to come.
A sign that says Room 128 is attached by the door outside.
It reeks of medicine. Like multiple medicine tablets left together in a plastic bag, only to be opened occasionally, releasing a pungent nauseating smell. As if walking into a room with stacks and stacks of medical capsules. As if reminding you of all the awful tasting pills you’ve ever tasted. Along with it came the scent of bitterness of alcohol, disinfectant alcohol, the sweetness of flowery fragrance of soaps, and the poignance of bleach.
The place is boring, deathly, and uneventful. It has the latest state-of-the-art medical instruments, solely reserved for the patient. The room is filled to the brim on the desk, on the side drawers, and the floor with untouched get-well-soon gifts, baskets of fruits and snacks, boxes of mugs and miniature sculptures, and cards from friends, relatives, and business partners. There are even trinkets and bracelets believed to heal people from sickness. If only such things truly healed a person, life would be so much better.
Although it was full of things scattered everywhere, there was basically nothing. Nothing but two figures hidden in the dark, under the dimly lit shadows.
“Ba-ya, when is father coming by?”
A masculine voice came from a figure lying on the soft, fleecy bed, clothed with the loosest of clothes, a hospital gown, and the thickest of blankets. His voice was rigid and coarse, like grating rocks against rocks.
“He’s currently in Germany for a corporate meeting, young master. Maybe in a week or so.”
An older-sounding, deeper, yet more feminine voice responds.
“Hm. What about the sales and revenue report for the northern branches?”
“Young master, you don’t have to worry about it, please take a rest.”
“There’s nothing to do, really…”
The young sluggish figure whose hair is the purest of violet lilacs, eyebrows sharp as an eagle’s beak, yet his eyes an athlete tired from running a seemingly endless marathon. Skin as pale as white onions, yet his energy is somehow still over the tracks, jumping up and down over hurdles and hurdles. The famous rising star of the Mikage family, Reo, has nothing to do as he’s stuck in this tiny white room filled with intoxicating chemicals and machinery one could not even dare to comprehend.
“Are there any scheduled visitors today?” The bedridden boy asks his fairly bulky servant, “If only mother let me, I would’ve been running around doing something more productive right now.”
Reo hasn’t moved an inch out of his room for weeks, stuck in the compound where hundreds of medical professionals spend their time regulating the young Mikage’s and other patients’ health 24/7. Before this all started, he had been going around the country overworking himself. For the sake of the company, or so as he says. Piles and piles of paper documents sat on top of his table and across his office floor. Hundreds of meetings and calls, conversations over tea and coffee, partnerships and connections. All just to distract himself from his brooding heart.
Now, Reo lays on his bed with nothing but medicine by his side. No paperwork, no business calls. He now has all the time in the world to rest. But rest comes with a cost, a cost of staying for too long in the delusions of one's head, with the made-up scenarios of one’s mind.
“Apart from the friend of the young master, Chigiri, I do not think so, young master.”
The servant– butler, if you may– grabs a touch-screen device, checking something. Her black formal attire contrasts with the tedious look of the room. Her hair is tied into two buns divided from the center, and her nose almost witch-like if one would dare say. Her skin wrinkled from age, yet still, she’s able to keep a professionally composed face.
“Hah? That’s depressing. Send me some files to work on, Ba-ya. This room is driving me mad.” The boy complains, staring at the unopened ceiling bulbs, his face kissed by the sunlight passing through the gaps between the curtains.
“I’ll ask for the sales and expenses report from the nearby branch, young master. It seems to require your attention.”
Reo smiles.
Beside Reo’s bed is a side table with a couple of books stacked on top of each other. As Reo usually reads, they were business and marketing books. Marketing in the Modern Market 101. How to Manage an Autonomous Cooperative. Starting the Flame: Maintaining the Status of Your Business. Most of which, Reo had already grown accustomed to. Growing in a prestigious household, Reo doesn’t need to know these things. But instead, it’s the author's life story that he finds interesting.
Above all of them, however, is a fantasy book. A philosophical one. One about a shepherd boy who believes in the driving force of fate, and in himself, and journeyed across the lands to meet the wisest of all men. To the boy, to be able to understand, love, and be compassionate within oneself, means that you no longer need to find happiness from others. To become truly independent, is to find solace within yourself. To him, knowing that makes you most wise.
“Thanks, Ba-ya.”
Then suddenly, the room telephone from by the door rings. Ba-ya, the attendant, stands up to answer the call. Reo could not see Ba-ya as the room has a short corridor before you could actually see the room for it is. Reo could hear her responding, uttering short ‘hms’ as a nod.
“It’s 11 AM already, I sure hope that’s Chi.”
“I’m afraid he’s renamed himself as Choki this time, young master.” Ba-ya looks sad, albeit sarcastically.
“He is going to smear his name across my face every time, isn’t he?” Reo scoffs, facepalming in utter despair, tired of all his little jokes over his breakup.
Chigiri had been doing this for weeks now, planning and executing as perfectly as he could. Ever since he got to talk to Nagi through the call, he had been changing his name to things like ‘World Cup’ or ‘Lemon Tea’ to playfully tease Reo whenever he’d come to visit. After all, he’s been scheduled before that with his full name written on it, so why not have fun for a bit? Little did the young intelligent Mikage know, the red hair had very different intentions: Hoping Nagi would come by, bearing Chigiri’s name after weeks of hearing ‘Melon bread is at the front desk.’
Chigiri himself had been dealing with Reo’s extreme venting over his and Nagi’s separation several months ago. Even to the point that he’d had Kunigiri take his place after hours of talking, and still Reo would speak like he had so much time to waste. But who could blame him? Breaking up with your lover for reasons you can’t understand or seem to find a reason to fight about must be the worst feeling.
Several years of effort, uncountable days of talking, and a tireless number of smiles only for everything to end up so pathetically. A Mikage that couldn’t even woo his lover, his greatest goal in life. Chigiri truly feels bad for him, but he knows something is up. He’s dealt with this before, and he will deal with it again.
Still, Chigiri also feels bad for his ears which keep on bleeding every time Reo calls at 2 AM to vent over a nightmare.
That’s definitely Chigiri. Reo thought.
✦
Nagi closes the door of the cab. He shivers, at last escaping the cold air-conditioned car and basking under the before-noon sun. He’s finally in the hospital Chigiri had sent him to. A large hospital complex with different buildings for different patients with different diseases. Too large and spread out that Nagi could find himself lost in the middle of foot traffic.
building b… building b…
He kept on repeating that phrase over and over again under his breath, hoping he wouldn’t forget, even if he could simply check it from his phone. He takes a step on the shallow flight of stairs and already he gets people staring at him in pity, as if he’s injured in one of his legs, unable to properly walk to the front. As if he had run away from the battlefield. As if he needs assistance.
The automatic doors opened on their own. Ah, how convenient. The main hall has dozens of people waiting for their names to be called, and is lit up in the flashiest of lights, making it look livelier than a hospital normally is. A light on the ceiling, and another, one, and another one again. The place is too bright for the house-hermit boy.
He immediately goes to the front desk where a lady in a nurse’s attire is sitting down.
“Hi.” Nagi smiles awkwardly.
“Ah– Hello, sir! How may I help you?” A kind cheerful voice escapes the nurse’s mouth.
“Where is…” He forgot the building name.
He quickly takes his phone from his pocket and opens up Chigiri’s message. “Inpatient building B?”
The woman tries to hold her laughter and succeeds, but her face still shows an entirely different story. She points to a sign by the front door. “You are here, sir. Are you visiting someone?”
“Room 128… I think…”
“Room 128? Are you scheduled for today?”
Chigiri called him while he was in the cab earlier, a big smirk from across the line. This is the second time he had talked to him this year, and yet the sense of familiarity from all those years ago lingers.
“I don’t think Reo would let you in if he heard your name. Worst case scenario, he’d kill me. Instantly. You don’t want to mess with the rich guys, for sure.”
“Rich guys…right…” Hearing how Reo’s name was being slandered for having a rich background albeit his attempts of rebellion scratched a rather irritating part of Nagi’s brain.
“Nagi, Just say you’re scheduled for eleven AM and you’ll be fine. If they ask for your name, say Chigiri Hyoma. That’s me.”
“I’m going to lie?”
The cab driver was probably wondering what kind of passenger he has gotten himself affiliated with.
“Nope, just say you’re coming in my stead, I guess. And tell your driver that you’re not a criminal. You sure look like one.”
“I am not a criminal.”
“You stole someone’s heart and broke it, how is that not a crime?”
“That was a mistake.”
“Shh–” Chigiri shushed him, “explain yourself to the court.”
“If Reo calls me one more time saying meeting you was a mistake, I will bash your head against the wall. Slash neg.”
“Slash neg?” Nagi was simply unfamiliar with such terms.
“It means I WILL do it,” Chigiri breathed, “ANGRILY.”
He glanced at the mirror in front, seeing the taxi driver trembling in fear.
“Stop that. You’re scaring the driver…”
“And whose fault is that?”
“You.”
“You ass– Anyways, your meet is at 11 AM. That’s only 15 minutes from now. Do you get it? Or do you need a paper to write this done on?”
Eleven AM… Nagi totally disregarded the latter part of Chigiri’s statement.
“…yes, at 11 AM.” He hesitantly replies, scratching his hair. Maybe answering Chigiri’s call wasn’t the best idea after all.
The woman pulls out a black modern telephone from under her desk, typing in the numbers. She puts it by her ear and goes:
“Hi, is this room 128? Mm. Mhm.” She keeps on nodding, “Yes, this is the front desk speaking. There’s a scheduled visitor that goes by…?”
She looks at him, “What’s your name again, sir?”
Chigiri Hyoma “Choki.” Ah no, that’s not right.
“He goes by Choki. Hm. Yes.”
Nagi pouts in silent embarrassment over the unwanted mistake, and shivers at the thought of lying about his personal information.
“You can go by the elevator to your right. The 128th room is on the 3rd floor.”
Nagi nods and gestures a peace sign as he starts walking towards the halls on the right. Large pots of flowerless plants lay in an array across the corridor. Transparent glass panels instead of walls showcase the inner workings of the hospital. Fluorescent lights hitched onto the ceiling far too close to one another. The nauseating smell of medicine starts to get stronger. Yet all those are far too boring for the uninterested Nagi.
Nagi goes through halls and halls of different-looking pathways, passing by multiple patients and doctors along the way. Hundreds of doors and chairs lined next to one another lay across.
He watches as a woman in her 20s gets driven in the other direction on a wheeled bed. He watches as a man cries outside an operating room. He watches as a family embraces a young kid dressed in a hospital gown who had just gone out of his room.
There are so many people. Nagi wishes he can just turn around and go home, but doing so would be more of a hassle. He taps the button on the elevator door before it opens. He then jumps right in and clicks on the button that says 3rd floor.
The elevator is quiet. There’s no one else but him, unlike the corridors swarmed with patients and workers alike. He breathes. He’s almost there.
He walks out, and approaches the room, skimming through the numbers pasted on the walls.
Room 128…
He is sent back to Chigiri’s message: ‘apologize.’
Nagi stops right before the door to the one-hundred-and-twenty-eighth room, a choking silence grabbing his body from within. What should he say? What do they talk about? Nagi’s mind swirls into a cluster of thoughts, of empty silent thoughts. It’s as if meeting up with the person he once lived with starts to feel foreign and unfamiliar. No, Reo is still there, and he is waiting.
It’s uncommon for Nagi to worry so much.
So without a thought, he knocks, Reo’s butler greeting his appearance from at the door.
“Young master Seishiro…”