Chapter Text
Fujiwara Touko first saw the boy on a hot summer day, in a nameless shrine deep in the woods of Yatsuhara. He was sitting on the ground, talking to one of the komainu statues, and Touko’s first thought was, “If the stones were alive, they sure would love the boy.”
Then she got a proper look at him, and her heart breaks.
The boy is thin, almost sickly so, dressed in clothes at least a size smaller than him. His skin is littered with scrapes and scratches, covered in dirt, and—
Oh, dear. Had it been her child, she would’ve—
No. No need to go there, Touko.
That aside, the boy should be in school at this hour. So what is he doing here, all on his own? Touko had never seen him before. Maybe his family had just moved in? If so, he shouldn’t be so far from the main road, lest he would get lost. Do his parents know where he is?
Ah, this is truly worrying.
“Um, excuse me?” Touko calls.
The boy turns, and upon seeing her, scrambles to his feet, face full of surprise— no, full of fear. So much like that time she found her crow friend in the backyard—eyes wild and scared, flapping its trapped wings desperately. Only, this boy doesn’t make a sound. He takes one, two steps backwards, still watching her every movement.
Touko reaches out, and the boy flinches.
“No—Sorry, I mean, I’m—”
The boy runs and disappears behind the shrine.
“—not going to hurt you...”
Well, that was terrible. Perhaps she was too rash. At least the boy knows not to trust strangers.
Touko still worries. But she pushes the boy to the back of her mind, just momentarily. When she finishes her prayers, Touko decides to give in to her curiosity, and walks to the back of the shrine.
The boy is nowhere in sight.
She’ll come again tomorrow, then. Just in case.
‘Tomorrow’ brings a more merciful weather, bright and comfortably warm, which Touko is thankful for. She’s careful to leave the house at the exact same time, though now she brings lunch for two.
He might be hungry, she reasoned.
(He’s not your child. Don’t get carried away, now.)
To her disappointment, the shrine is empty. The komainu seems to be watching her—must be a trick of the light—as she walks past the red torii gates. She stops right in front of the shrine, and after a moment, sits on the wooden stairs.
Then, she waits.
The boy shows up nearing sunset. He runs into the shrine, constantly looking over his shoulder like he fears for his life, until he collapses right between the two komainu. Panting, he looks around; his eyes meet Touko’s, and he freezes. Touko gives him a small wave with a smile, the friendliest she could muster.
The boy looks away. He lays on the ground and stares at the darkening sky, instead.
Still, he doesn’t try to leave. Touko counts it as a win.
Days, then weeks passed in a similar manner, as the shrine visit seamlessly becomes part of Touko’s routine. It certainly adds to the list of her worries, but it’s also refreshing. She hasn’t had much to look forward to in a long time, so their ‘meetings’ always bring her joy, somehow. She could only hope it’s not one-sided. After all, the boy never says a word. He’s so quiet, Touko often doesn’t notice his arrival until—
Until... Until something strange happens. Always. A big gust of wind, or a shadow casting over the shrine, or an animal’s cry—it comes out of nowhere, and disappears within minutes, at most.
Well, she digresses. Though the boy might be an enigma, she can tell it’s not of a bad nature. It gets easier and easier to take her eyes off him; her curiosity has yet to be sated, but now she’s used to his faint presence. The book in her hand feels like a barrier, one she puts up to ensure his safety.
(I’m not here to hurt you. You can leave anytime you want. Or you can stay.)
It continues. Touko learns to see the world from the boy’s eyes; to put her trust in the shrine and every part of nature surrounding it. The boy learns to trust her.
Summer ends with the boy sitting within her arm’s reach, a fat cat sleeping on his lap. She turns to him. A soft “Good afternoon,” and for the very first time, he dares to look at her.
His golden, glass-like eyes feel empty.
Touko vows she would fill them with love.
Touko starts asking questions, yet nobody knows what she’s talking about. No one remembers the shrine, and each of them told her to “stay away from the woods”. When she described the boy, they all only shake their heads.
It haunts her.
But it’s easy to forget, when the boy is within her sight. He’s so...
He’s a child. And you can’t always understand children—you just have to accept them. You just have to give, and give, and give.
“Oh, have I told you my name?”
He turns to her, and tilts his head.
“It’s Fujiwara Touko, but you can call me Touko.” She picks up a wooden stick and writes her name on the dirt. Touko isn’t sure if the boy can read, but she wants to give him options, in case he doesn’t want to talk yet.
“Could you tell me your name?”
The boy stays still. For a moment, she was hopeful.
Then he gives her a sad smile and turns away.
“That's alright,” Touko reassures.
She never brings it up again.
Often, Touko comes bearing gifts. The boy loves any food she brought him, but his cat especially loves sweets, so today, it’s manjuu from Nanatsujiya. She carefully places the box between them, and as the cat takes his share, she fills the silence with one-sided conversation.
“It’s getting cold, isn’t it?”
The boy, who had been lying on the grass— he seems to live in his own little world, where the wind cradled him and the trees sang to him, —shrugs, and closes his eyes. He seems unbothered by the chilly autumn air.
“You really should dress warmer! Don’t forget to wear a jacket tomorrow!”
The boy opens his eyes, and turns to look at her. There’s something in his expression; something sad... nostalgic, even.
(“I wish I could,” is what she imagines him saying.)
He covers it up almost immediately, but not quick enough. Touko has taken off her own scarf and hastily wraps it around his neck, giving him no chance to freak out at her sudden touch (she hadn’t realized. Had she seen his face, she would’ve stopped herself).
The scarf is a little too big on him; the ends barely hang above the ground, and his cat has started playing with it. The boy, however, is not as relaxed. He stares at her in confusion, with his hands gripping the fabric like he wasn’t sure what it meant.
“I don’t want you to get sick,” she tells him. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s okay, you can keep it.”
The boy bows his head.
It takes all her willpower not to hug him tight.
It has been over two months since they first met and at this point, Touko is absolutely certain, there’s something wrong. She can’t put her finger on it. The boy’s expressions, his reactions, his behaviours, they’re always... always, just slightly off, but all of them adds up to a pile of ‘wrong’.
Not that it’s the boy’s fault, really.
“Shigeru-san knows,” Touko says, her voice steady, despite the erratic beating of her heart, “that I’ve been coming here to see you.”
It really is not a terrible thing. Her husband is an understanding man, and he sure does not mind Touko making new friends, even if the said ‘friend’ is a strange little boy from the woods. It’s just—she wasn’t sure if the boy wanted to be known.
But he doesn’t seem angry, no. Instead, the boy gulps, and pulls his cat closer to his chest.
(Most children would be asking questions, or in a worse scenario, throw a tantrum. They wouldn’t curl into themselves like the world is against them.)
“I’m sorry it’s so sudden, but is it okay if he comes with me, tomorrow?”
He bites his lip, and slowly nods, as if he’s afraid to say no.
“Are you sure?”
The boy turns away, and of course Touko wouldn’t push him. While it would be wonderful if her 2 favorite people get to know each other, she doesn’t want to hurt this boy in the slightest.
But sometimes, getting hurt is necessary, too. She can’t protect him forever, that would be unfair for him.
“We’ll see what happens tomorrow, then,” she decides. She can leave it up to the boy; surely, Shigeru-san will understand. “I’ll tell him: if he’s lucky, he might get to see you.” Touko finishes with a wink.
The boy laughs. It’s soundless, but still precious.
Shigeru was... not unlucky.
Touko leads him to the same narrow path she had always taken. The trees seem to have grown overnight; it’s a little past noon, but the leaves shield them from the sunlight. And yet, much to Shigeru’s surprise, she has no issue navigating through the dark woods.
“I didn’t know there was a shrine here,” he points out upon their arrival.
“I only found it by accident,” Touko explains, smiling fondly, “But it seems well-maintained, so...” So there must be someone who treasures this place, perhaps more than I do.
As it turns out, they didn’t have to wait long.
Shigeru was the first who notices the boy’s tiny form, just outside the gates. He hesitantly walks into the shrine, and stops to speak to one of the komainu statues. It reminds her of their first meeting; his voice is so soft she couldn’t hear him, but from his expression, she knows the conversation is real. It’s important, at least for the boy.
Touko wouldn’t be surprised, if Shigeru deems the boy unstable. It would be sad, yes, but she knows it wouldn’t change her own feelings.
Shigeru is still quiet, watching the scene unfolds.
The boy turns (and, oh, he’s wearing the scarf Touko gave him). For a moment, he stands still, but then he smiles and shyly waves at them. Shigeru nods in approval. Touko lets out a relieved breath.
Strangely enough, his cat is nowhere in sight. Instead, there’s a faint, enormous shadow looming over him, almost like a shelter. When the boy retreats, stepping back from the statues, the shadow follows. He sits on the ground and the giant gates creak just slightly.
“A strange boy, indeed. You certainly know him better than I do,” Shigeru tells her, “but I’m glad he has you.”
It’s comforting. Still, Touko wishes she could know more, and do more, and just help the boy more. He needs it. He needs more than just a stranger who sees him and talks to him each day. The boy needs a family. He needs home-cooked meals three times a day, a warm bed, and—
By the next day, Touko hasn’t stopped thinking about it. It leaves her restless, and she found herself rushing towards the shrine. For some reason, a part of her fears that the boy would just... disappear.
He doesn’t. She reaches the shrine, only to see the boy waiting for her. He’s tense, she notices, but it’s not the same. It’s not his usual anxiety. It’s not fear.
It’s... nervousness? Excitement?
Touko crouches next to him. “What is it?” she half-whispers, curious. It just feels like a secret.
The boy smiles. He picks up a small fallen branch.
Takashi, he clumsily writes on the ground, and gestures at himself.
Touko beams. “Nice to meet you, Takashi-kun!”
(More questions. More phone calls. In such a small city, almost everyone knows each other.)
(There’s no ‘Takashi’ in Yatsuhara.)
-to be continued