When Every Wolf's at Your Door
Title: When Every Wolf’s at Your Door (Originally posted here)
Groups/Pairings: Arashi + friendship (Sho/Jun and slight Aiba/Nino)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~8000
Warnings: A little violence, mild swearing, angst
Summary: Twenty years ago Sho lost his childhood friends to the Wolves. Now, dragged through dimensions, they are reunited. Yet, despite finally filling the gaping void in his life, Sho can't let go of the past. He needs to now why.
He walks the streets, brittle and exhausted. The wind pulls at the flaps of his trench, and tosses the waves of his dark hair into disarray. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, Sho presses on without purpose, following the weak fluorescent bulbs alighting the greying streets and the browning walls and none of the blackened, starless sky.
Above him the branches of the naked trees arch in stillness and silence, as if preserved in a moment of death outside of time. No birds embracing their nocturnal nature, no moths clambering for light. Nothing. Simply stark nothingness.
And for the past twenty years he has felt it. Like a constant unnerving breath at the back of his neck that has stiffened his shoulders and turned his thoughts to paranoia.
This life; this miserable, undeserved, repetitive life, that’s caused premature lines to frame depthless eyes and a sticky black ball of unease to take home in his gut.
He realises then that the spluttering lights have lead him to the deserted park. He walks past this place twice every day, but not often dwells, more often lets his eyes slide over the disintegrating orange tape and the shadows of rockfall at the end of the overgrown path.
Twenty years ago.
Twenty years ago his life had changed forever because of what had happened in this very place.
Sho walks right through the tape, which holds no resistance, merely flutters silently to the ground. He wanders, now with purpose, through the long wild grass, trailing patterns of dew up his grey slacks turning black. Spiky seedlings get caught in the cotton, but Sho barely notices. The dark outline of the fallen stones have taken on a more defined shape under eerie moonlight, and the black ball in his stomach barrels forward, daring to escape.
When Sho finally stands before the scene his heart is beating quickly beneath his ribcage, spluttering with life he had thought long abandoned him.
They had never found the bodies. Four children, playing too close to the ledge. They had tried to pull the rockfall apart, but the silence had been telling. There was nothing left, only one small, shaking boy who had been caught by a low-lying branch, who swore he had seen…something. Two glowing eyes like terrifying moonlight, hot air puffing out and dissipating like mist, and a low vibration in the air…threatening, calling, yearning..
Growling…
It was shock, they said. Trauma. He had hit his head on the downward fall. But Sho had known what he had seen. Even in childhood his imagination had been incapable of envisioning that brief glimpse of horror.
He suddenly lunges forward, taken by an irrational frenzy, and begins scrabbling at the heavy stones, pulling and pushing in every which direction. They crumble down, like the heavy weights they are, falling heavily and sinking into the soft dirt at his feet. A sharp edge grazes his cheek, but his hands and fingers are unstoppable, plying and dislodging the precarious stone.
The sky darkens further above him as the solitary moon hides behind a scattering of cloud, but Sho only works faster, possessed by a need he never knew existed.
Twenty years ago Sho’s world had stopped. Twenty years of purely skirting the possibility of living. A pathetic, emotionless half-life.
As a dirt-encrusted rock falls against the grass, Sho finally hears it beyond the fervour of his mind.
A low growl.
Beckoning.
Reaching a crescendo.
Reverberating through the earth.
And as the rocks begin to topple forward in earnest, Sho’s sight finally traces the outline of two brilliant golden eyes.
Then, there’s a heavy thud upon his chest and the world melts into black.
*
When Sho wakes, it’s like he’s entering a new world.
At first, there are only sounds. They come through in muffled waves, dipping and diving - the faint buzzing of insects in the surrounding trees, the rustle of leaves, an echo of birdsong, the breath rising harshly from his lungs.
(It’s only later that he notices the tinny pulse in the back of his head, keeping time to his heartbeat.)
Then, there’s sight; bright sunlight filtering through the tree branches above, glinting green and gold and cerulean in a blurred haze. He can make out faint moving outlines, but the only thing he knows for sure is that he’s in a forest.
Underneath him, hard-packed dirt and twigs and grass create an itch on a spot on his back that he knows he won’t come close to reaching.
As he struggles to regain control of his body, a different sound approaches - voices.
“Hey, it’s fresh meat,” someone proclaims excitedly.
“How do you know?” someone else asks warily. “It could be anyone. Could be injured. Looks like they’re half-dead, anyway.”
“They’re new,” the first voice repeats confidently. “Look at how clean he is! Like a newborn!”
“Well, fine, let’s just get him out of here before we’re seen,” another voice snaps. “Unless you’d like to become a wolf snack?”
A sigh. “Nino’s right. Let’s pick him up and go. We’ll have our answers soon enough, but now we have to move.”
Sho’s eyes finally begin to focus as four figures gather around him, lifting him off the ground. As he opens his mouth to protest, a wave of nausea washes over him and he once again sinks into darkness.
*
It’s the low hum of conversation and the crinkle of a red setting sun teasing through the towering trees that wakes Sho next. He slowly stretches his body up, testing out each limb, and finds himself perfectly able, although stiff. He shrugs off his trench in the heat, pulls off his tie, and unbuttons his white shirt, because it’s so warm here, wherever here is. The winter cold, cutting so bone-deep that Sho had thought it would never leave, has been replaced by a settling humidity that wraps around his milk-white skin, creating a slight sheen of sweat.
Treading as quietly as he can on the forest floor, footsteps muffled by yellow and orange leaf litter and humus, Sho follows the sounds of voices, a small hope blooming in his chest, beating out a verse, could it be, could it be, could it be…
They are sitting in the middle of a fairy ring, not yet aware of his presence, and he stops to watch them - Nino making a scornful remark as he waves vaguely at the trees, while Jun rolls his eyes and Aiba lets out an unrestrained bark of laughter. Ohno’s lying on his back, hands hooked behind his head, and Sho would have thought him asleep if it weren’t for the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
He knows it’s them immediately, knows it more certainly that anything in his whole entire life.
And then Jun’s eyes flicker upwards, catching sight of him staring. The others quickly follow his gaze, as if they’re all linked by an invisible string - like they’re a chain of life-size marionettes.
“Well look who decided to finally awake,” Nino says, looking Sho up and down in surprisingly predatory appraisal. “Did you have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?”
Sho tries to respond, but his mouth is paper dry and the words trip. “I…just…I…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Aiba says warmly, standing up. “You’re safe here.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jun, whose gaze hasn’t left Sho’s face, grimaces faintly at those words.
“Well, as safe as you’re going to get,” Aiba amends, but the smile is still there in his words. “I’m Aiba, by the way, and this is Nino, Jun and Ohno,” Aiba says gesturing around him.
And that’s when Sho realises. They don’t know. Well, who could blame them? It’s been twenty years, and this…this does not seem to be a place to remember the past. That thought however, doesn’t stop a small sliver of hurt entering his chest.
“Nice…nice to meet you,” Sho manages to croak. “I’m Sho.”
Aiba’s face furrows for a moment, and Sho heart leaps, thinking they’re entertaining a distant memory, but then Aiba merely shrugs and repeats, “Nice to meet you, too.”
“We’ve got to go,” Ohno says, straightening up from his position on the ground. “Don’t want to be caught out like last time.”
“Go where?” Sho asks, and his voice is now hitting a higher pitch as the full realisation of what’s happening begins to hit. “Where are we now? What do you mean caught out?”
Ohno raises an eyebrow, and a low whistle escapes Nino’s lips, as they all glance at each other in mild surprise.
“Sho…you’re in the Wolves’ Land now,” Aiba says gently. “The home of the Wearh.”
Behind Sho there’s the faint sound of a falling branch in the distance and the four before him immediately tense.
“Come on,” Jun says tersely, picking himself up and brushing leaves from pants patched with various materials, all slightly different shades of brown. He grabs a wooden stick that Sho hadn’t noticed before beside him. It’s about two metres long and carved into a dangerous point, and the ball of stress in his gut begins to grow sickeningly. “We’ll explain more later, but now we have to run.”
And before Sho can ask Run from what? Aiba is grabbing him by the elbow and hauling him through the trees.
*
They enter a small village that’s mostly deserted, with a scattering of makeshift huts made of rudely cut branches and logs and giant clover-shaped waxy leaves of emerald green that Sho doesn’t recognise. One of the huts is evidently theirs, and they bundle Sho inside before setting out in a routine that they’ve apparently done so many times that it no longer needs to be discussed. Ohno goes on watch, and Nino and Jun go looking for food, and Aiba talks news and trade with their few neighbours who look at Sho curiously through the gaps in the walls.
Sho is left feeling useless and verging on terrified until Aiba hands him a couple of sticks and a little bag of powder and asks him to start a fire, a kind look on his face like he half doesn't expect Sho to be able to do it. Sho’s never been a boy scout or been taken camping, but he’s smarter - much smarter - than he looks, and he gratefully accepts the challenge to prove Aiba wrong. The stick is worn down and his palms are red and blistered long before even a tiny curl of smoke begins to appear, but Sho doesn’t ask for help, and Aiba doesn’t interfere.
It’s only when they are sitting around a low fire later that night, a couple small skinned animals and wrinkled wild mushrooms turning over the flame, that Sho receives his explanation.
“They’re called the Wearh,” Jun says, voice low and steady, “or sometimes just the Wolves.” The fire is reflected in his dark eyes, and they seem to hold a kind of permanent intensity. Sho can’t help a slight shiver from travelling down his spine, and he licks his lips, tasting smoke and the eeriness of the enshrouding night.
“The Wearh?” Sho repeats, testing the word on his tongue.
“You don’t know it yet, but you’ll remember soon,” Aiba says. “Everyone does.”
“I don’t understand,” Sho says, and Jun and Aiba glance at Ohno, who shrugs, as if receiving the passing baton.
Ohno takes a deep breath and leans forward, arms resting on his knees and hands clasped together. The others also move forward, still unconsciously in sync.
“They bring us here from different places,” Ohno begins, sleepy eyes focusing on Sho. “Different worlds, too. Nobody has exactly the same experience, but it usually happens when you’re on the verge of something big and life changing.”
“Death mostly,” Nino interrupts, matter-of-factly.
“Yeah,” Ohno concurs solemnly. “Death mostly. They seem to need some kind of moment when humans are slipping between planes of existence before they can bring us here. Well, that’s the theory anyway.”
Sho nods, simultaneously understanding both the spoken words and nothing at all, but he needs them to continue.
“But what do you mean, I’ll remember? Remember what?”
It’s Jun who picks up again where Ohno stops. “You’ll remember them,” he says softly. “For some it takes years, and for others it takes days. But everyone remembers them - we all met them before we came here. Maybe not consciously, but in the shadows, waiting and watching and merging themselves into our lives.”
“They watch us, Sho,” Aiba says, resting a warm hand over Sho’s, which he realises are shaking against his lap. “What I remember is mostly just fragments - brown fur and golden eyes peering behind trees when I played at home. A wolfish face watching through the kitchen window while eating dinner. Breathing underneath my bed before I turned out the light.”
Nino nods beside him, beginning to take the food off the fire. “It’s mostly like that. People rarely remember more, but everyone remembers.”
“But why?” Sho asks, voice thick. “Why would they do that?”
“A wolf’s gotta eat,” Nino shrugs, breaking off a leg bone before passing the animal to Ohno. “So, they watch us, they draw us in for the hunt, they chase us, we die and the cycle continues.”
“But you’ve all survived,” Sho says slowly. “It’s been so many years, how is that possible?”
Jun’s eyes narrow at Sho, but he doesn’t notice, because Aiba’s flashing him a greasy-toothed smile around a mouthful of meat.
“Teamwork,” Aiba responds brightly. “From what we can gather, usually only one or two people get drawn in at a time. We’ve had a definite advantage.”
Sho looks at them all one by one. Dirty faces, roughened hands, hardened bodies and straggling hair cut at uneven angles. Yet, despite everything, there’s an underlying optimism and camaraderie that takes Sho back - back to climbing trees and sword-fighting and kicking cans. He’s missed it all so badly.
“We have to go back,” Sho breathes out.
Jun snorts. “We can’t leave.”
“Well, there are rumours…” Aiba says uncomfortably, before Nino kicks him in the shin.
“Shut it, Aiba,” he says, but Aiba just rubs his knees and continues on impetuously.
“But there are. People have left, Nino. They’ve met the Wearh Elder, and he let them go. We wouldn’t have heard so many stories if it weren’t true. That’s like the law of averages or something.”
“That’s not how averages work, idiot,” Nino says, rolling his eyes. “And you’re logic is flawed anyhow. If they really did leave, then how could they tell anyone? Idiot,” he adds for good measure.
“I don’t know,” Aiba answers stubbornly, arms folding across his chest. “Someone could have seen them, or someone could have come back, or something. You don’t know everything, Nino.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jun says firmly but diplomatically. “We’re not going.”
Sho’s head begins to spin with all the new information. There was a Wearh Elder? Was he or she or it the one that chose who came? Was it merely a term for the source of the Wearh power?
“We have to go,” Sho says again, and this time he sounds more determined, more confident. “We need to see the Wearh Elder and get it to send us back.”
I have to know why.
Nino makes a sound akin to throwing his hands in the air. “This is ridiculous.”
“Who says we want to leave?” Jun argues. “We’re fine here. Besides, what would be waiting for us back there?” He doesn’t say back home, and the word choice isn’t lost on Sho.
“Your family?” Sho suggests. “Freedom? A life without fear?”
Me.
As Jun prepares to retort, Ohno clears his throat and all eyes automatically turn to him.
“If Sho wants to go, maybe we should help him,” the eldest says, picking at a rib bone in his hands. “We don’t have to go, too. But I for one would like some answers.”
A strangled noise escapes Nino’s lips and Jun says, “Are you serious?”
“Yep,” Ohno answers simply, and Aiba lets out a little whoop, clearly indicating his preference.
Nino looks at Aiba incredulously before letting out a loud sigh.
“Fine,” he says, loud and sarcastic. “Just so you know, we’re all probably going to lose our lives and end up wolf-meat. But hey, who cares, who needs a life anyway. Let’s go!” and despite the eye-rolling Sho has a feeling he’d follow Aiba anywhere.
Jun’s still shaking his head as they all look to him. He gets up, body stiff with tension, before throwing the rest of his dinner into the fire.
As he stalks away, spear in hand, Sho hears him yell, “Fine.”
*
Aiba talks to their neighbours and they tell him what they can. They too have heard the rumours about the Wearh Elder but have been too scared to act. After much gesturing, and scrawling maps with sticks in the dirt, Aiba says they need to set off for the high mountain in the north, which stands large and imposing over the forest.
Sho finds it easy to bond with everyone, like the twenty years they’ve been apart have been mere days. They welcome him into their family like a long-lost brother, and it becomes easier and easier to see that time without them as a bad nightmare, and one that he desperately wants to forget. Aiba is easy-going and strong, and eternally child-like, and Nino is quick-witted, sometimes verging on mean, but fiercely protective. Sho finds that although Ohno is mostly quiet, they’re able to have slow-building conversations that go on for hours in an effort to quench his insatiable curiosity of what was once home.
And then there’s Jun. Jun’s all lean muscle and hardened lines and hair like smudged coal and tanned skin. Sho finds himself looking towards Jun at ever-increasing intervals, and every time there’s that intense stare, that meeting of gazes that quickens his breath and makes the insistent pulse in his brain blur into a radial whine. Sometimes Sho thinks Jun’s hiding secrets, but sometimes it’s like Jun thinks he is. Like Sho’s some big mystery that he’s on the precipice of unravelling.
He’s only been here a week, but his whole body, once so white and pallid it almost shone luminous in the dark, has taken on a golden glow. The air, always teasing summer rain, has turned the waves of his hair into slowly curling strands arranging themselves in a wild halo. And his lungs, once filled with the grey clogging oppression of daily routine, find themselves opening and clearing and inhaling the world.
He feels alive. For the first time in a long while, Sho feels alive.
*
Aiba and Nino take Sho out to hunt one evening. They’ve crossed through most of the forest area surrounding the small village, and the ground has opened up into flower-filled fields, dotted with large, white-furred animals Aiba calls beests. They have six long, angular limbs that stick and bend outwards like spiders’ legs, and they move with an unexpected grace. But it’s their eyes that get to Sho…centred in the middle of their small horned heads, which slowly sway side to side, looking sweet and doleful. Right now one of the foals stands a short distance before them seemingly separated from the herd, at least three metres tall even though it’s still young.
“We’re having beest for dinner tonight,” Nino says, teeth flashing.
“And how are you planning on catching that thing?” Sho asks dubiously.
Aiba rubs his hands together in anticipation, easily quashing any notions of innocence Sho previously felt towards him. “Easy! We lure it in and then we hit it with the spear. Right in the heart!”
“Right in the heart, huh?” Sho echoes, feeling a little sick. He’s never killed anything bigger than a cockroach in his life.
Nino gives him a hearty slap on the back. “Hey, we gotta eat, right?”
“I guess,” Sho mumbles. “But won’t it get angry? It’s not exactly tiny. It could easily trample us. And outrun us.”
“It’s three against one,” Nino says dismissively. “And we’ve got brains on our side, don’t we?”
Sho doesn’t have time to respond, because Aiba is already strolling towards the lone animal, hands outstretched in greeting, and Nino is pulling Sho behind a tree. He remembers how fearless Aiba used to be when they were young, walking up to even the most terrifying, frothing-at-the-mouth dogs of death and scratching them behind the ears until they had curled on their backs, feet in the air in submission.
“Heeeey,” Aiba coos soothingly. “Hey there, pretty beest. Who’s a pretty beest, now?”
Oh Lord, Sho thinks. This cannot end well.
Beyond reason, the beest warily advances towards Aiba on its spindly legs.
“Come one,” Aiba says. “That’s a good boy. Or girl.”
As the beest continues to move forward, Nino hands Sho one of the crafted wooden daggers usually tucked in his belt and hefts the spear on his shoulder.
Soon Aiba is walking directly into their line of vision, still making various friendly noises, and Nino whispers right in Sho’s ear, “Three…two….one…”
They both leap forward, weapons flying through the air with a lot more accuracy than Sho expected.
The dagger hits the beest at the base of its elegant neck, where it quivers for a moment before dropping to the dirt. The spear angled at its breast suffers the same fate, not even drawing blood.
The beest turns its wobbly gaze towards Sho and Nino curiously.
“Oh crap. Tell me you’ve killed one of these things before,” Sho says desperately.
“We may or may not have killed a beest before,” Nino sheepishly admits, slowly creeping backwards.
A low keening noise begins to escape the beest, and its legs begin working at the ground.
“Oh no…” Aiba says, eyes wide. “Guys, I don’t think it liked that.”
The noise it’s emitting becomes louder, and Aiba and Nino look at each other in that harmonised way of theirs, before starting to back up in earnest. The beest follows. Menacingly.
“Run!” Nino yells, sparing a brief disappointed glance at their abandoned weapons.
“Oh fuck, now we’ve done it,” Sho moans, stumbling backwards.
They scamper through the trees, the beest in hot pursuit behind them.
“Quickly!” Aiba shouts. “Up!”
They run towards a rocky outcrop at the base of a cliff, and scramble up the stones, pulling themselves perilously upwards. As they reach the first overhanging ledge, Sho looks nervously over his shoulder at the beest, whose eyes now seem a lot more demonic than doleful in hindsight.
“Look, it can’t climb!” Nino says, with what Sho thinks is an unwarranted amount of gloating.
The beest places a delicate foot on the rockface. And then another. And then another.
“Move!” Sho screams.
They climb further up the cliff face, trying not to look down.
Nino’s nimble but shorter limbs seems to be slowing him down, and Sho can’t help pressuring him, “Faster!”, feelings of imminent death growing by the second.
“I can’t go any faster!” Nino hisses back.
“It’s going to catch up with us!” Sho screeches. “You’re not trying hard enough!”
Then suddenly they’re at the top of the cliff, and with one last backwards glance at the possessed animal, they launch themselves across the grassy surface, running as fast as their trembling legs can carry them.
“Eat my dust, fucker,” Nino grins nastily, suddenly a lot braver as the distance between them grows.
The beest meanders to a stop once it reaches the top and stares at their retreating backs with a blank expression. Its head lolls to the side inquisitively.
“Maybe it just wanted to play,” Aiba says after awhile, when they are safe.
“Play; eat; maul - it’s all the same to them,” Nino says sagely, before they all look at each other and burst into laughter, Sho clutching at his stomach and gripping Aiba’s shirt.
*
Every day Sho opens his eyes to warm bodies nestled around him and the heavy weight of content resting in his chest. The only thing that still bothers Sho is the persistent beeping, that niggling sound digging its way through his skull. He wonders if he hit his head being sucked through dimensions or whatever the hell it took to get here, and that maybe he has some kind of aneurysm and that one day he just won’t wake up.
Yet somehow he knows that won’t happen. He feels like he is here for a reason - to recapture the past, to take them home, to find out why. They let him come, so they must have known, they must have.
They’ve been walking for six days, and as they find themselves closer to the mountain, the cooling air starts to smell like cut grass and imminent rain. Dark clouds are rolling in, and a sweet wind pushes the birds across the hills and under the cover of the trees.
The day before Aiba had commented that it was weird that they hadn’t run into any of the Wearh as yet, and later Sho thinks that that’s what jinxes them.
They’re in the middle of eating an unsatisfying dinner of assorted sour berries and bitter green leaves when they hear the first howl far away.
“Fuck,” Jun mutters, and Ohno immediately grabs his weapon beside him.
They all rise together swiftly like dominos in reverse, and the soft command, “Let’s move,” is more than a little unnecessary.
They trek in a single file between the trees, Ohno out in front and Jun at the rear, and Sho placed safely in the centre like the weakest link he hates to admit that he is.
The trees get denser and the shrubbery thicker as the get nearer to the mountain, and the ground rises in a steady incline that soon has the unused muscles in Sho’s legs aching.
Unfortunately the howls, rather than fading, only become louder and more frequent.
“Four,” Aiba murmurs under his breath, after what seems like hours of walking in silence. “Two north-east and two north-west. They’re closing in.”
But where is north? Sho wants to ask, but he keeps his mouth shut.
No one responds to Aiba’s revelation, but they all begin to pick up speed, trying to find somewhere to hide, or at least a good defensive position to give themselves an advantage in the inevitable fight. They can’t walk forever.
Under heavy nightfall, the mountain proves to be forbidding and dangerous, the trees standing close and tall, and blocking their already poor vision. As the howls echo ominously against the rocks, Sho begins to imagine the Wolves mere metres away, hot, damp breath on his neck, the smell of wet fur filling his nostrils.
It’s much too dark by the time they find suitable shelter.
It’s Aiba using his animal senses who finds the wooden shack leaning against a rocky wall, its doors clenched shut amongst roots and vines, as if the mountain itself was sucking it in possessively.
Nino moves forward and pushes the door open with effort, while they all hold their breath wishing it to stand and not just collapse at their feet.
Inside there isn’t that much more shelter, and whoever abandoned this place had not left much behind - only a frayed wolf skin on the floor, a couple of shallow carved bowls and a crude knife - but there’s a stone-ringed fireplace, and a small pile of logs and branches in the corner.
As they’ve made their way to higher ground the air has become noticeably more chill, and Nino pulls his worn shirt around him, hissing, “Damn it, it’s cold!”
“We need a fire,” Sho states grimly.
“No,” Jun says, shaking his head. “If the smoke is seen, we die. But,” he admits warily, “if we catch cold, we die, too.”
“Naked huddle?” Aiba suggests as he settles down against the wall, jaw trembling slightly and ruining his grin.
Jun coughs and exchanges a look with Ohno, who sighs.
“Okay,” their fearless leader decides. “We build a fire, but we’ll keep watch in pairs. Jun and I will go first.”
“Sounds good to me,” Nino shrugs, before slinking next to Aiba. “I’ll huddle with you, Aiba.”
Sho watches them curl together, their bodies exorcising the cold space. A part of him yearns to be apart of that warmth, but he stands stiffly, knowing that’s not completely correct; it’s not their warmth he wants.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns to look up at Jun, his dark eyes more understanding than Sho would have liked.
“Don’t worry, we’ve been through things like this before. It’s going to be okay,” he says softly, entirely misinterpreting Sho’s hesitancy, and fingers all too comforting. Why were so many things about Jun too much?
Sho nods and lowers himself onto the mossy ground.
“Thanks,” he whispers to the floor.
*
Sho opens his eyes to the sound of Ohno opening the door and shuffling in some time later. He hasn’t been able to rest, although Aiba and Nino fell asleep long ago; Aiba with his head nestled on Nino’s stomach and Nino’s hand carded through his hair.
“Hey,” Sho whispers.
“Hey,” Ohno whispers back. “Your turn. Jun doesn’t feel like sleeping.”
Sho heads outside and joins Jun, who is leaning against a tree, eyes turned to the sky.
The moon hovers above them amidst the alien constellations, impossibly huge and tinted gold.
“It’s amazing, right?” Jun says, gazing in wonderment, and Sho nods his head silently in agreement.
“It’s beautiful.”
Here he sees things that he never could have seen before - craters and mountains carved through the surface, and running shadows writing myths. He thinks, even if he dies here in this strange world, other than the four boys surrounding him this is the one thing he could not bring himself to regret. This is his one privilege.
Beside him, Jun tears his eyes from the sky (eyes reflecting midnight, Sho thinks to himself) and casts his unreadable gaze on Sho.
“Yeah,” is all he says, quietly, deeply.
They sit in silence for a while, Sho reflexively tensing with every breath Jun takes, until they’re breathing in sync.
“I know, Sho,” Jun says finally, so quietly Sho almost doesn’t hear.
“Know what?” Sho asks, although he’s sure he understands - he just needs to hear the words.
Jun looks at him meaningfully. “I know. I remember you. I remember everything.”
Sho shifts in place, swallowing hard. “Since when?”
“Since the beginning, I think. When we saw you lying in the forest.”
Sho glances at Jun, whose eyes continue to stare straight through him. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
Jun shrugs. “Guess I was waiting for you to say something first.”
They lapse into silence once more, but inside Sho can hear his heart picking up speed, beating to that irritating pulse.
When they were little Jun had always seemed a little out of reach. He was an easy charmer, inwardly awkward but outwardly perfect. Jun had known the right things to say and the proper way of acting, and even though Sho had known too, could make friends with the best of them, it was Jun they always seemed to drift towards. He was like the sun, with its gravitational pull drawing people forward and then keeping them at arm’s length yearning for more. 10-year-old Sho had dreamt of spinning closer and closer, until one day he would be able to see past the blinding light to the stillness and secrets he knew were hidden within. He thinks he’ll keep wanting that forever.
Just as Sho thinks they are going to sit in silence for the rest of the night, Jun clears his throat.
“I want to ask you something.”
“Yeah?” Sho says.
“I just want to know,” Jun says quietly, “why you need to see the Wearh Elder so badly. Do you miss home that much? Every time you talk about it, it sounds like you hated being there.”
“That’s because…” but Sho can’t finish the sentence.
That’s because I was alone, the invisible words sing out into the darkness.
“Because?” Jun persists. “Because why? I really don’t get it Sho, what do you need from them?”
“I have to know,” Sho says, and there’s a desperate edge in his voice. “I need to know why. It’s important.”
“Why is it so important?” Jun asks in return, voice soft. “What could you possibly want to know? Why can’t you just let it go?”
“You don’t understand,” and Sho tries to breathe, tries to keep his voice steady. “A part of me died that day, Jun. All of you died.”
“Except we didn’t,” - words so low, they may have been a whisper. “We’re right here.”
Dark eyes steady and impenetrable, Jun reaches out a thumb, swipes it gently down Sho’s jaw, before cradling it in his hand.
“We’re right here.”
But as much as Sho wants to believe - as much as being right here, right now, and caught in Jun’s golden haze bends and shakes him - he can’t give it up.
He has to go.
“Please-” Jun starts to say, but suddenly stills, hand holding firm.
“When I say run, run,” he commands, and Sho nods into his palm.
A crashing comes from the trees, and Jun hisses, “Run!,” and Sho flies up with a speed he didn’t know he possessed.
They run towards the shack, and Ohno’s already opening the door for them when they are metres within reach.
“If we go in, we have nowhere to hide!” Sho realises, coming to a halt.
“Neither will it,” Jun argues, pushing him in. “And this way only one can enter at a time. It’s our only chance.”
Sho has no choice but to stumble inside, and Ohno and Jun push their weight against the door just as a heavy crash rocks the battered hut.
Nino and Aiba both awaken immediately, heads snapping up and hands reaching for their weapons. They spring to their feet and position themselves in front of Sho, who once again hates himself for his incompetence.
The Wolf bashes its body against the doorframe again to the sound of snapping wood, causing Jun to grunt in effort.
“It’s not going to hold for long,” Aiba says through gritted teeth.
“We should let it in, catch it by surprise,” Nino suggests, and Jun and Ohno, like mirror images, turn to each other before letting out a breath and taking a step back. Just like that.
Sho has barely a second to prepare himself, before the door is thrown down upon the floor, and a howl rips through the walls, burning the blood in his ears.
Snapping jaws.
A looming shadow.
Yellow, intelligent eyes.
Sho gasps and flattens himself against the wall, scrabbling around for some kind of loose rock or stick to use to protect himself.
The wolf is huge, almost two metres tall, coarse brown fun bristling along muscled lines, ears flattened back and snout worked into a teeth-baring snarl. It’s a living nightmare of hot, musky flesh, and it makes the pulsing beat in his head resonate throughout his body.
And then Nino is throwing the spear at its neck with unerring precision. It sticks unsteadily, but Ohno grabs hold and pushes it in, before being flung back by the thrashing monster. Jun fills the gap and leaps forward, burying his dagger in the centre of its chest. The Wearh howls in pain and rises up, smacking down on Jun’s chest, drawing a long line of blood. He crumples to the floor in a heap, like a centipede curling inwards. And then Aiba is flying, barely avoiding the ripping claws along his arms and the razor teeth snapping in his hair, and twisting the knife deeper, pulling downwards.
Blood begins to spill out in torrents, and without realising Sho’s picking up log after log of firewood and throwing them, hitting the Wearh between the eyes and at its back, anywhere he can so that it just turns away, so that it dies before one of them does. He keeps throwing even when it collapses on the ground, legs dragging and twitching in the dirt, and mouth spitting foam.
He doesn’t realises it’s dead until Nino places a hand on his arm, and looks him in the eyes and says, “It’s okay. It’s over.”
And then Sho’s leaning into Nino’s shoulder, grip hard enough to leave marks, while Nino trails his fingers through his curls, whispering nonsensical words of comfort.
*
Dawn arrives and the rest don’t come. Ohno shrugs and says that maybe they realised they were outnumbered, but the way he keeps glancing furtively at the broken door suggests he thinks it’s only a matter of time.
They’re all so lucky - bruised and battered and crusted in red - but so damn lucky. Aiba’s the worst, with a gash above his left ear now bandaged with part of Nino’s ripped shirt, but he keeps smiling around tired eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Sho says quietly, pressing water against Jun’s chest, cleaning the shallow wound. “I shouldn’t have asked you all to come.”
“Then we’ll turn back,” Jun says simply, stopping the movements of Sho’s hand with his own. “It’s not too late.”
Sho shakes his head, ignoring the rush of heat that centres around Jun’s touch. “No,” he says resolutely. “You should leave, but I need to keep going.”
“We're not going to leave you,” Jun states firmly, and Ohno grunts his acquiescence.
Sho finds that he doesn’t have the heart to argue.
As they prepare to leave, Sho leans forward to take one final look at the dead animal, its yellow eyes frozen in an impassive stare. It looks somewhat smaller now, not the giant that had filled the room, and Sho feels something like pity and shame and disquiet in the pit of his gut.
When he finally rises to the sound of Nino’s call, a voice coils itself around his brain like poisoned smoke.
You’ve killed my kin. Come and find me.
Sho looks around startled, but no one else seems to have noticed; they have all already walked from the shack. These were words only meant for him.
Find me at the cave.
*
They continue up the mountain, working a haphazard trail into the forested floor. The sun has broken through the trees; the sky bright and dazzling and blue, but the air retains a hint of cold. Hours pass and the trees begin to become sparser and shorter as they close in. The dirt below them too has gone from being soft and black to a stonier brown that makes Sho’s knees ache.
He doesn’t tell them about the voice, fearing they’ll think him crazy. Hell, he’s definitely wondering that himself.
It’s only when Aiba suddenly stops in front of him that Sho gets any kind of indication that they’re heading in the right direction.
“Look,” Aiba says, loud voice grating against the currents of silence they’ve been walking in.
He’s pointing at a large boulder to the right of their path, and they all move forward at the same pace to surround it. At first it seems rather unremarkable, it’s just a big rock. Then he notices a series of light curves on the surface.
They lean inwards, and he hears Nino breathe in sharply.
The lines have probably been etched with another stone sharpened to a point, and they’re so faint they give the impression of having been there hundreds of years. They illustrate a large hollow with lines flowing out in all directions, and underneath a wolfish face, long canines extending and traceable strokes of fur. Even in stone, the artist has captured the menacing eyes and fierce grin.
“Do you think…?” Sho asks, swallowing hard, and Jun nods once, jaw tense.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
They don’t get much further without seeing more signs. A carving in the side of a dead tree, a placement of small pebbles. It’s not only Sho who's on the lookout for a cave now, but when Ohno halts their course and raises a hand, Sho’s heart still shudders in his chest.
There’s a large burrow in the ground a few metres ahead, surrounded by a series of stones, too heavy to have been moved individually, and a scatter of bones of all different sizes, rodents and human alike. It looks like some kind of spirit shrine or sacrificial alter, and the pulse in Sho’s head nearly splits his skull with its pounding.
“I’m going in,” Sho states, more confident than he feels.
“I’ll go too,” Jun says, but Sho’s shaking his head even before the words are fully out.
“No, I’m going alone.”
Jun stares at Sho, eyes creasing in focus, and Sho tries hard not to waver. A part of him wants to take the words back, to grab Jun’s elbow and drag him down with him. But he presses his lips together and squares his sloping shoulders instead.
“Fine,” Jun says eventually, and Aiba lets out a breath beside them.
“Thought that was going to last forever,” he says with an awkward grin, and Sho reaches out and pulls him into a hug.
Ohno follows with a firm pat on the back, and Nino lingers long enough to whisper, “Don’t fucking die, okay?” in his ear.
They all step back with awkward waves as Jun says, “I’ll walk you there,” even though it’s right in front of them.
The entrance to the burrow looks dark and ominous, and he reaches out to take hold of Jun’s hand. He’s surprised when Jun suddenly pulls him forward and buries his head in the crook of his neck, warm breath against his skin. He smells like the musky earth and old sweat and everything that Sho’s come to think of as home.
“I wish I’d found you sooner,” Sho says uselessly, voice low and rough.
Jun doesn’t reply, merely presses closer, and Sho lets himself linger in his embrace, open palms pressed against his back, until he feels the maddening call pulling him forward.
When Sho finally moves away, he looks up and thinks he finally sees it - the secret hidden in Jun’s eyes.
*
Sho has to bend himself in half to fit through the opening of the burrow, but it’s not long before the space widens considerably and he’s able to stand at full height. He walks further and further down, until the light from above is only a small pinprick, like a lone star in an abandoned sky.
Eventually his foots find wetness underneath and he hesitates to go on. It’s then that the voice chooses to speak, once again splintering into his head.
Sho. You killed my brother.
Sho pauses before grasping for courage with sweaty hands. “We had to.”
We want you gone. You should not be here.
“Then why am I here?” Sho says, a little louder, trying to stay strong against the crushing voice.
You came to us. We didn’t want you here. You came with your questions.
“I need to know!” and he’s trying not to plead. “I want you to tell me!”
What do you want to know? What is so important that you would kill to find out?
Sho finds his control shattering, and the questions break forth, skittering recklessly across the darkness. “Why? Why did you take them? Why do you do this?”
His voice sounds rough and hard against the echoing coldness.
Is that the question you really want to ask? the low hiss slips through his mind.
Sho feels his legs weakening below him, and his knees and palms hit the rocks, breaking skin, grazing, drawing blood.
“No,” he whispers. “No. It’s just…I just…” The words, so long held inside, stick in his throat painfully before he splutters and wrenches them out. “Why didn’t you take me?”
A blinding light appears and the persistent tinny beat pounds harder in the back of his head, and Sho fights it, hates it, begins to realise what it means.
“No…” Sho murmurs into the stone. “No, please…”
They want you back, Sho, the voice repeats, so horribly weighted with knowing. It’s time for you to go.
Like the hand of God wrapping around his chest, Sho feels his body jerk forward with powerful force, and he is suddenly and helplessly dragged towards the light.
*
When Sho wakes, it’s like he’s entering a new world.
*
He finally regains consciousness, tubes trailing from his nose and his arms.
The doctors try to explain it to him, but Sho can barely listen.
The beige walls stare back at him lifelessly, matching the sallow hue of his skin. The fluorescent lights above him only seem to suck the colour out of the room instead of illuminating it.
They keep talking, but the words are all muffled white noise and incomprehensibilities.
You were dreaming. You’ve been in a coma all this time. It’s perfectly natural. None of that was real…
Sho feels like a fucked up Alice in Wonderland, like a warped Taoist butterfly. Except he looks at the faint lines of red on his hands and knees, so much like grazes from falling onto stony ground, and he knows, he fucking knows.
*
They let him out after a week. He makes a speedy recovery despite having been unconscious for so long. He tries to go back to his old life, but everything appears even more futile now. He finds himself lost in daydreams of curling humidity and sleeping under a ceiling of stars and smooth golden skin.
One day Sho doesn’t go to work, but he doesn’t think anyone will miss him. He catches the train down to the beach, hoping for a glimpse of deep sapphire, but the water only reflects a dull, murky grey.
So he sits there on the beach under the burning heat, feeling as dry as the sand beneath him, picking at pieces of scattered seaweed, breaking pieces and tying them in knots. Everything feels exhausted. Even the sky above him - a cloudless, washed-out blue - seems to be giving up. Sho wishes, for a small, hateful moment that the world would give him up, too.
But then he remembers Ohno’s words, the theory of planes and reality, and decides, he is not giving up - he’s giving in.
Sho makes his way slowly across the dunes and into the sea. He can feel the salt water lapping gently against his skin, rocking him slightly back and forth.
And then he can barely touch the bottom, and his head ducks under the water for the first time and the muted sounds of moving air and living sea echo around him uncannily, like the dissonance of a thousand heartbeats of a thousand souls lost. When he breaks the surface and his lungs greedily drink in the air, he wonders - hopes - that his body is beginning to lose the fight.
The tides roll in, and the sun sinks towards the horizon, but Sho continues to stands there as if cast in stone, slowly sinking into the sand below.
A gasp of air.
The taste of salt.
A stinging in his lungs.
Two familiar yellow eyes.
His pulse slips and slides and then pauses - a glimpse of starlight and lunar gold - and then a smile stretches slowly over pale cheeks.
“Hey, Sho,” Jun will say when they finally find him, an easy smile pulling at his lips and mysteries under starlight unravelling in his eyes. “Welcome home.”
Groups/Pairings: Arashi + friendship (Sho/Jun and slight Aiba/Nino)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~8000
Warnings: A little violence, mild swearing, angst
Summary: Twenty years ago Sho lost his childhood friends to the Wolves. Now, dragged through dimensions, they are reunited. Yet, despite finally filling the gaping void in his life, Sho can't let go of the past. He needs to now why.
He walks the streets, brittle and exhausted. The wind pulls at the flaps of his trench, and tosses the waves of his dark hair into disarray. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, Sho presses on without purpose, following the weak fluorescent bulbs alighting the greying streets and the browning walls and none of the blackened, starless sky.
Above him the branches of the naked trees arch in stillness and silence, as if preserved in a moment of death outside of time. No birds embracing their nocturnal nature, no moths clambering for light. Nothing. Simply stark nothingness.
And for the past twenty years he has felt it. Like a constant unnerving breath at the back of his neck that has stiffened his shoulders and turned his thoughts to paranoia.
This life; this miserable, undeserved, repetitive life, that’s caused premature lines to frame depthless eyes and a sticky black ball of unease to take home in his gut.
He realises then that the spluttering lights have lead him to the deserted park. He walks past this place twice every day, but not often dwells, more often lets his eyes slide over the disintegrating orange tape and the shadows of rockfall at the end of the overgrown path.
Twenty years ago.
Twenty years ago his life had changed forever because of what had happened in this very place.
Sho walks right through the tape, which holds no resistance, merely flutters silently to the ground. He wanders, now with purpose, through the long wild grass, trailing patterns of dew up his grey slacks turning black. Spiky seedlings get caught in the cotton, but Sho barely notices. The dark outline of the fallen stones have taken on a more defined shape under eerie moonlight, and the black ball in his stomach barrels forward, daring to escape.
When Sho finally stands before the scene his heart is beating quickly beneath his ribcage, spluttering with life he had thought long abandoned him.
They had never found the bodies. Four children, playing too close to the ledge. They had tried to pull the rockfall apart, but the silence had been telling. There was nothing left, only one small, shaking boy who had been caught by a low-lying branch, who swore he had seen…something. Two glowing eyes like terrifying moonlight, hot air puffing out and dissipating like mist, and a low vibration in the air…threatening, calling, yearning..
Growling…
It was shock, they said. Trauma. He had hit his head on the downward fall. But Sho had known what he had seen. Even in childhood his imagination had been incapable of envisioning that brief glimpse of horror.
He suddenly lunges forward, taken by an irrational frenzy, and begins scrabbling at the heavy stones, pulling and pushing in every which direction. They crumble down, like the heavy weights they are, falling heavily and sinking into the soft dirt at his feet. A sharp edge grazes his cheek, but his hands and fingers are unstoppable, plying and dislodging the precarious stone.
The sky darkens further above him as the solitary moon hides behind a scattering of cloud, but Sho only works faster, possessed by a need he never knew existed.
Twenty years ago Sho’s world had stopped. Twenty years of purely skirting the possibility of living. A pathetic, emotionless half-life.
As a dirt-encrusted rock falls against the grass, Sho finally hears it beyond the fervour of his mind.
A low growl.
Beckoning.
Reaching a crescendo.
Reverberating through the earth.
And as the rocks begin to topple forward in earnest, Sho’s sight finally traces the outline of two brilliant golden eyes.
Then, there’s a heavy thud upon his chest and the world melts into black.
*
When Sho wakes, it’s like he’s entering a new world.
At first, there are only sounds. They come through in muffled waves, dipping and diving - the faint buzzing of insects in the surrounding trees, the rustle of leaves, an echo of birdsong, the breath rising harshly from his lungs.
(It’s only later that he notices the tinny pulse in the back of his head, keeping time to his heartbeat.)
Then, there’s sight; bright sunlight filtering through the tree branches above, glinting green and gold and cerulean in a blurred haze. He can make out faint moving outlines, but the only thing he knows for sure is that he’s in a forest.
Underneath him, hard-packed dirt and twigs and grass create an itch on a spot on his back that he knows he won’t come close to reaching.
As he struggles to regain control of his body, a different sound approaches - voices.
“Hey, it’s fresh meat,” someone proclaims excitedly.
“How do you know?” someone else asks warily. “It could be anyone. Could be injured. Looks like they’re half-dead, anyway.”
“They’re new,” the first voice repeats confidently. “Look at how clean he is! Like a newborn!”
“Well, fine, let’s just get him out of here before we’re seen,” another voice snaps. “Unless you’d like to become a wolf snack?”
A sigh. “Nino’s right. Let’s pick him up and go. We’ll have our answers soon enough, but now we have to move.”
Sho’s eyes finally begin to focus as four figures gather around him, lifting him off the ground. As he opens his mouth to protest, a wave of nausea washes over him and he once again sinks into darkness.
*
It’s the low hum of conversation and the crinkle of a red setting sun teasing through the towering trees that wakes Sho next. He slowly stretches his body up, testing out each limb, and finds himself perfectly able, although stiff. He shrugs off his trench in the heat, pulls off his tie, and unbuttons his white shirt, because it’s so warm here, wherever here is. The winter cold, cutting so bone-deep that Sho had thought it would never leave, has been replaced by a settling humidity that wraps around his milk-white skin, creating a slight sheen of sweat.
Treading as quietly as he can on the forest floor, footsteps muffled by yellow and orange leaf litter and humus, Sho follows the sounds of voices, a small hope blooming in his chest, beating out a verse, could it be, could it be, could it be…
They are sitting in the middle of a fairy ring, not yet aware of his presence, and he stops to watch them - Nino making a scornful remark as he waves vaguely at the trees, while Jun rolls his eyes and Aiba lets out an unrestrained bark of laughter. Ohno’s lying on his back, hands hooked behind his head, and Sho would have thought him asleep if it weren’t for the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
He knows it’s them immediately, knows it more certainly that anything in his whole entire life.
And then Jun’s eyes flicker upwards, catching sight of him staring. The others quickly follow his gaze, as if they’re all linked by an invisible string - like they’re a chain of life-size marionettes.
“Well look who decided to finally awake,” Nino says, looking Sho up and down in surprisingly predatory appraisal. “Did you have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?”
Sho tries to respond, but his mouth is paper dry and the words trip. “I…just…I…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Aiba says warmly, standing up. “You’re safe here.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jun, whose gaze hasn’t left Sho’s face, grimaces faintly at those words.
“Well, as safe as you’re going to get,” Aiba amends, but the smile is still there in his words. “I’m Aiba, by the way, and this is Nino, Jun and Ohno,” Aiba says gesturing around him.
And that’s when Sho realises. They don’t know. Well, who could blame them? It’s been twenty years, and this…this does not seem to be a place to remember the past. That thought however, doesn’t stop a small sliver of hurt entering his chest.
“Nice…nice to meet you,” Sho manages to croak. “I’m Sho.”
Aiba’s face furrows for a moment, and Sho heart leaps, thinking they’re entertaining a distant memory, but then Aiba merely shrugs and repeats, “Nice to meet you, too.”
“We’ve got to go,” Ohno says, straightening up from his position on the ground. “Don’t want to be caught out like last time.”
“Go where?” Sho asks, and his voice is now hitting a higher pitch as the full realisation of what’s happening begins to hit. “Where are we now? What do you mean caught out?”
Ohno raises an eyebrow, and a low whistle escapes Nino’s lips, as they all glance at each other in mild surprise.
“Sho…you’re in the Wolves’ Land now,” Aiba says gently. “The home of the Wearh.”
Behind Sho there’s the faint sound of a falling branch in the distance and the four before him immediately tense.
“Come on,” Jun says tersely, picking himself up and brushing leaves from pants patched with various materials, all slightly different shades of brown. He grabs a wooden stick that Sho hadn’t noticed before beside him. It’s about two metres long and carved into a dangerous point, and the ball of stress in his gut begins to grow sickeningly. “We’ll explain more later, but now we have to run.”
And before Sho can ask Run from what? Aiba is grabbing him by the elbow and hauling him through the trees.
*
They enter a small village that’s mostly deserted, with a scattering of makeshift huts made of rudely cut branches and logs and giant clover-shaped waxy leaves of emerald green that Sho doesn’t recognise. One of the huts is evidently theirs, and they bundle Sho inside before setting out in a routine that they’ve apparently done so many times that it no longer needs to be discussed. Ohno goes on watch, and Nino and Jun go looking for food, and Aiba talks news and trade with their few neighbours who look at Sho curiously through the gaps in the walls.
Sho is left feeling useless and verging on terrified until Aiba hands him a couple of sticks and a little bag of powder and asks him to start a fire, a kind look on his face like he half doesn't expect Sho to be able to do it. Sho’s never been a boy scout or been taken camping, but he’s smarter - much smarter - than he looks, and he gratefully accepts the challenge to prove Aiba wrong. The stick is worn down and his palms are red and blistered long before even a tiny curl of smoke begins to appear, but Sho doesn’t ask for help, and Aiba doesn’t interfere.
It’s only when they are sitting around a low fire later that night, a couple small skinned animals and wrinkled wild mushrooms turning over the flame, that Sho receives his explanation.
“They’re called the Wearh,” Jun says, voice low and steady, “or sometimes just the Wolves.” The fire is reflected in his dark eyes, and they seem to hold a kind of permanent intensity. Sho can’t help a slight shiver from travelling down his spine, and he licks his lips, tasting smoke and the eeriness of the enshrouding night.
“The Wearh?” Sho repeats, testing the word on his tongue.
“You don’t know it yet, but you’ll remember soon,” Aiba says. “Everyone does.”
“I don’t understand,” Sho says, and Jun and Aiba glance at Ohno, who shrugs, as if receiving the passing baton.
Ohno takes a deep breath and leans forward, arms resting on his knees and hands clasped together. The others also move forward, still unconsciously in sync.
“They bring us here from different places,” Ohno begins, sleepy eyes focusing on Sho. “Different worlds, too. Nobody has exactly the same experience, but it usually happens when you’re on the verge of something big and life changing.”
“Death mostly,” Nino interrupts, matter-of-factly.
“Yeah,” Ohno concurs solemnly. “Death mostly. They seem to need some kind of moment when humans are slipping between planes of existence before they can bring us here. Well, that’s the theory anyway.”
Sho nods, simultaneously understanding both the spoken words and nothing at all, but he needs them to continue.
“But what do you mean, I’ll remember? Remember what?”
It’s Jun who picks up again where Ohno stops. “You’ll remember them,” he says softly. “For some it takes years, and for others it takes days. But everyone remembers them - we all met them before we came here. Maybe not consciously, but in the shadows, waiting and watching and merging themselves into our lives.”
“They watch us, Sho,” Aiba says, resting a warm hand over Sho’s, which he realises are shaking against his lap. “What I remember is mostly just fragments - brown fur and golden eyes peering behind trees when I played at home. A wolfish face watching through the kitchen window while eating dinner. Breathing underneath my bed before I turned out the light.”
Nino nods beside him, beginning to take the food off the fire. “It’s mostly like that. People rarely remember more, but everyone remembers.”
“But why?” Sho asks, voice thick. “Why would they do that?”
“A wolf’s gotta eat,” Nino shrugs, breaking off a leg bone before passing the animal to Ohno. “So, they watch us, they draw us in for the hunt, they chase us, we die and the cycle continues.”
“But you’ve all survived,” Sho says slowly. “It’s been so many years, how is that possible?”
Jun’s eyes narrow at Sho, but he doesn’t notice, because Aiba’s flashing him a greasy-toothed smile around a mouthful of meat.
“Teamwork,” Aiba responds brightly. “From what we can gather, usually only one or two people get drawn in at a time. We’ve had a definite advantage.”
Sho looks at them all one by one. Dirty faces, roughened hands, hardened bodies and straggling hair cut at uneven angles. Yet, despite everything, there’s an underlying optimism and camaraderie that takes Sho back - back to climbing trees and sword-fighting and kicking cans. He’s missed it all so badly.
“We have to go back,” Sho breathes out.
Jun snorts. “We can’t leave.”
“Well, there are rumours…” Aiba says uncomfortably, before Nino kicks him in the shin.
“Shut it, Aiba,” he says, but Aiba just rubs his knees and continues on impetuously.
“But there are. People have left, Nino. They’ve met the Wearh Elder, and he let them go. We wouldn’t have heard so many stories if it weren’t true. That’s like the law of averages or something.”
“That’s not how averages work, idiot,” Nino says, rolling his eyes. “And you’re logic is flawed anyhow. If they really did leave, then how could they tell anyone? Idiot,” he adds for good measure.
“I don’t know,” Aiba answers stubbornly, arms folding across his chest. “Someone could have seen them, or someone could have come back, or something. You don’t know everything, Nino.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jun says firmly but diplomatically. “We’re not going.”
Sho’s head begins to spin with all the new information. There was a Wearh Elder? Was he or she or it the one that chose who came? Was it merely a term for the source of the Wearh power?
“We have to go,” Sho says again, and this time he sounds more determined, more confident. “We need to see the Wearh Elder and get it to send us back.”
I have to know why.
Nino makes a sound akin to throwing his hands in the air. “This is ridiculous.”
“Who says we want to leave?” Jun argues. “We’re fine here. Besides, what would be waiting for us back there?” He doesn’t say back home, and the word choice isn’t lost on Sho.
“Your family?” Sho suggests. “Freedom? A life without fear?”
Me.
As Jun prepares to retort, Ohno clears his throat and all eyes automatically turn to him.
“If Sho wants to go, maybe we should help him,” the eldest says, picking at a rib bone in his hands. “We don’t have to go, too. But I for one would like some answers.”
A strangled noise escapes Nino’s lips and Jun says, “Are you serious?”
“Yep,” Ohno answers simply, and Aiba lets out a little whoop, clearly indicating his preference.
Nino looks at Aiba incredulously before letting out a loud sigh.
“Fine,” he says, loud and sarcastic. “Just so you know, we’re all probably going to lose our lives and end up wolf-meat. But hey, who cares, who needs a life anyway. Let’s go!” and despite the eye-rolling Sho has a feeling he’d follow Aiba anywhere.
Jun’s still shaking his head as they all look to him. He gets up, body stiff with tension, before throwing the rest of his dinner into the fire.
As he stalks away, spear in hand, Sho hears him yell, “Fine.”
*
Aiba talks to their neighbours and they tell him what they can. They too have heard the rumours about the Wearh Elder but have been too scared to act. After much gesturing, and scrawling maps with sticks in the dirt, Aiba says they need to set off for the high mountain in the north, which stands large and imposing over the forest.
Sho finds it easy to bond with everyone, like the twenty years they’ve been apart have been mere days. They welcome him into their family like a long-lost brother, and it becomes easier and easier to see that time without them as a bad nightmare, and one that he desperately wants to forget. Aiba is easy-going and strong, and eternally child-like, and Nino is quick-witted, sometimes verging on mean, but fiercely protective. Sho finds that although Ohno is mostly quiet, they’re able to have slow-building conversations that go on for hours in an effort to quench his insatiable curiosity of what was once home.
And then there’s Jun. Jun’s all lean muscle and hardened lines and hair like smudged coal and tanned skin. Sho finds himself looking towards Jun at ever-increasing intervals, and every time there’s that intense stare, that meeting of gazes that quickens his breath and makes the insistent pulse in his brain blur into a radial whine. Sometimes Sho thinks Jun’s hiding secrets, but sometimes it’s like Jun thinks he is. Like Sho’s some big mystery that he’s on the precipice of unravelling.
He’s only been here a week, but his whole body, once so white and pallid it almost shone luminous in the dark, has taken on a golden glow. The air, always teasing summer rain, has turned the waves of his hair into slowly curling strands arranging themselves in a wild halo. And his lungs, once filled with the grey clogging oppression of daily routine, find themselves opening and clearing and inhaling the world.
He feels alive. For the first time in a long while, Sho feels alive.
*
Aiba and Nino take Sho out to hunt one evening. They’ve crossed through most of the forest area surrounding the small village, and the ground has opened up into flower-filled fields, dotted with large, white-furred animals Aiba calls beests. They have six long, angular limbs that stick and bend outwards like spiders’ legs, and they move with an unexpected grace. But it’s their eyes that get to Sho…centred in the middle of their small horned heads, which slowly sway side to side, looking sweet and doleful. Right now one of the foals stands a short distance before them seemingly separated from the herd, at least three metres tall even though it’s still young.
“We’re having beest for dinner tonight,” Nino says, teeth flashing.
“And how are you planning on catching that thing?” Sho asks dubiously.
Aiba rubs his hands together in anticipation, easily quashing any notions of innocence Sho previously felt towards him. “Easy! We lure it in and then we hit it with the spear. Right in the heart!”
“Right in the heart, huh?” Sho echoes, feeling a little sick. He’s never killed anything bigger than a cockroach in his life.
Nino gives him a hearty slap on the back. “Hey, we gotta eat, right?”
“I guess,” Sho mumbles. “But won’t it get angry? It’s not exactly tiny. It could easily trample us. And outrun us.”
“It’s three against one,” Nino says dismissively. “And we’ve got brains on our side, don’t we?”
Sho doesn’t have time to respond, because Aiba is already strolling towards the lone animal, hands outstretched in greeting, and Nino is pulling Sho behind a tree. He remembers how fearless Aiba used to be when they were young, walking up to even the most terrifying, frothing-at-the-mouth dogs of death and scratching them behind the ears until they had curled on their backs, feet in the air in submission.
“Heeeey,” Aiba coos soothingly. “Hey there, pretty beest. Who’s a pretty beest, now?”
Oh Lord, Sho thinks. This cannot end well.
Beyond reason, the beest warily advances towards Aiba on its spindly legs.
“Come one,” Aiba says. “That’s a good boy. Or girl.”
As the beest continues to move forward, Nino hands Sho one of the crafted wooden daggers usually tucked in his belt and hefts the spear on his shoulder.
Soon Aiba is walking directly into their line of vision, still making various friendly noises, and Nino whispers right in Sho’s ear, “Three…two….one…”
They both leap forward, weapons flying through the air with a lot more accuracy than Sho expected.
The dagger hits the beest at the base of its elegant neck, where it quivers for a moment before dropping to the dirt. The spear angled at its breast suffers the same fate, not even drawing blood.
The beest turns its wobbly gaze towards Sho and Nino curiously.
“Oh crap. Tell me you’ve killed one of these things before,” Sho says desperately.
“We may or may not have killed a beest before,” Nino sheepishly admits, slowly creeping backwards.
A low keening noise begins to escape the beest, and its legs begin working at the ground.
“Oh no…” Aiba says, eyes wide. “Guys, I don’t think it liked that.”
The noise it’s emitting becomes louder, and Aiba and Nino look at each other in that harmonised way of theirs, before starting to back up in earnest. The beest follows. Menacingly.
“Run!” Nino yells, sparing a brief disappointed glance at their abandoned weapons.
“Oh fuck, now we’ve done it,” Sho moans, stumbling backwards.
They scamper through the trees, the beest in hot pursuit behind them.
“Quickly!” Aiba shouts. “Up!”
They run towards a rocky outcrop at the base of a cliff, and scramble up the stones, pulling themselves perilously upwards. As they reach the first overhanging ledge, Sho looks nervously over his shoulder at the beest, whose eyes now seem a lot more demonic than doleful in hindsight.
“Look, it can’t climb!” Nino says, with what Sho thinks is an unwarranted amount of gloating.
The beest places a delicate foot on the rockface. And then another. And then another.
“Move!” Sho screams.
They climb further up the cliff face, trying not to look down.
Nino’s nimble but shorter limbs seems to be slowing him down, and Sho can’t help pressuring him, “Faster!”, feelings of imminent death growing by the second.
“I can’t go any faster!” Nino hisses back.
“It’s going to catch up with us!” Sho screeches. “You’re not trying hard enough!”
Then suddenly they’re at the top of the cliff, and with one last backwards glance at the possessed animal, they launch themselves across the grassy surface, running as fast as their trembling legs can carry them.
“Eat my dust, fucker,” Nino grins nastily, suddenly a lot braver as the distance between them grows.
The beest meanders to a stop once it reaches the top and stares at their retreating backs with a blank expression. Its head lolls to the side inquisitively.
“Maybe it just wanted to play,” Aiba says after awhile, when they are safe.
“Play; eat; maul - it’s all the same to them,” Nino says sagely, before they all look at each other and burst into laughter, Sho clutching at his stomach and gripping Aiba’s shirt.
*
Every day Sho opens his eyes to warm bodies nestled around him and the heavy weight of content resting in his chest. The only thing that still bothers Sho is the persistent beeping, that niggling sound digging its way through his skull. He wonders if he hit his head being sucked through dimensions or whatever the hell it took to get here, and that maybe he has some kind of aneurysm and that one day he just won’t wake up.
Yet somehow he knows that won’t happen. He feels like he is here for a reason - to recapture the past, to take them home, to find out why. They let him come, so they must have known, they must have.
They’ve been walking for six days, and as they find themselves closer to the mountain, the cooling air starts to smell like cut grass and imminent rain. Dark clouds are rolling in, and a sweet wind pushes the birds across the hills and under the cover of the trees.
The day before Aiba had commented that it was weird that they hadn’t run into any of the Wearh as yet, and later Sho thinks that that’s what jinxes them.
They’re in the middle of eating an unsatisfying dinner of assorted sour berries and bitter green leaves when they hear the first howl far away.
“Fuck,” Jun mutters, and Ohno immediately grabs his weapon beside him.
They all rise together swiftly like dominos in reverse, and the soft command, “Let’s move,” is more than a little unnecessary.
They trek in a single file between the trees, Ohno out in front and Jun at the rear, and Sho placed safely in the centre like the weakest link he hates to admit that he is.
The trees get denser and the shrubbery thicker as the get nearer to the mountain, and the ground rises in a steady incline that soon has the unused muscles in Sho’s legs aching.
Unfortunately the howls, rather than fading, only become louder and more frequent.
“Four,” Aiba murmurs under his breath, after what seems like hours of walking in silence. “Two north-east and two north-west. They’re closing in.”
But where is north? Sho wants to ask, but he keeps his mouth shut.
No one responds to Aiba’s revelation, but they all begin to pick up speed, trying to find somewhere to hide, or at least a good defensive position to give themselves an advantage in the inevitable fight. They can’t walk forever.
Under heavy nightfall, the mountain proves to be forbidding and dangerous, the trees standing close and tall, and blocking their already poor vision. As the howls echo ominously against the rocks, Sho begins to imagine the Wolves mere metres away, hot, damp breath on his neck, the smell of wet fur filling his nostrils.
It’s much too dark by the time they find suitable shelter.
It’s Aiba using his animal senses who finds the wooden shack leaning against a rocky wall, its doors clenched shut amongst roots and vines, as if the mountain itself was sucking it in possessively.
Nino moves forward and pushes the door open with effort, while they all hold their breath wishing it to stand and not just collapse at their feet.
Inside there isn’t that much more shelter, and whoever abandoned this place had not left much behind - only a frayed wolf skin on the floor, a couple of shallow carved bowls and a crude knife - but there’s a stone-ringed fireplace, and a small pile of logs and branches in the corner.
As they’ve made their way to higher ground the air has become noticeably more chill, and Nino pulls his worn shirt around him, hissing, “Damn it, it’s cold!”
“We need a fire,” Sho states grimly.
“No,” Jun says, shaking his head. “If the smoke is seen, we die. But,” he admits warily, “if we catch cold, we die, too.”
“Naked huddle?” Aiba suggests as he settles down against the wall, jaw trembling slightly and ruining his grin.
Jun coughs and exchanges a look with Ohno, who sighs.
“Okay,” their fearless leader decides. “We build a fire, but we’ll keep watch in pairs. Jun and I will go first.”
“Sounds good to me,” Nino shrugs, before slinking next to Aiba. “I’ll huddle with you, Aiba.”
Sho watches them curl together, their bodies exorcising the cold space. A part of him yearns to be apart of that warmth, but he stands stiffly, knowing that’s not completely correct; it’s not their warmth he wants.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns to look up at Jun, his dark eyes more understanding than Sho would have liked.
“Don’t worry, we’ve been through things like this before. It’s going to be okay,” he says softly, entirely misinterpreting Sho’s hesitancy, and fingers all too comforting. Why were so many things about Jun too much?
Sho nods and lowers himself onto the mossy ground.
“Thanks,” he whispers to the floor.
*
Sho opens his eyes to the sound of Ohno opening the door and shuffling in some time later. He hasn’t been able to rest, although Aiba and Nino fell asleep long ago; Aiba with his head nestled on Nino’s stomach and Nino’s hand carded through his hair.
“Hey,” Sho whispers.
“Hey,” Ohno whispers back. “Your turn. Jun doesn’t feel like sleeping.”
Sho heads outside and joins Jun, who is leaning against a tree, eyes turned to the sky.
The moon hovers above them amidst the alien constellations, impossibly huge and tinted gold.
“It’s amazing, right?” Jun says, gazing in wonderment, and Sho nods his head silently in agreement.
“It’s beautiful.”
Here he sees things that he never could have seen before - craters and mountains carved through the surface, and running shadows writing myths. He thinks, even if he dies here in this strange world, other than the four boys surrounding him this is the one thing he could not bring himself to regret. This is his one privilege.
Beside him, Jun tears his eyes from the sky (eyes reflecting midnight, Sho thinks to himself) and casts his unreadable gaze on Sho.
“Yeah,” is all he says, quietly, deeply.
They sit in silence for a while, Sho reflexively tensing with every breath Jun takes, until they’re breathing in sync.
“I know, Sho,” Jun says finally, so quietly Sho almost doesn’t hear.
“Know what?” Sho asks, although he’s sure he understands - he just needs to hear the words.
Jun looks at him meaningfully. “I know. I remember you. I remember everything.”
Sho shifts in place, swallowing hard. “Since when?”
“Since the beginning, I think. When we saw you lying in the forest.”
Sho glances at Jun, whose eyes continue to stare straight through him. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
Jun shrugs. “Guess I was waiting for you to say something first.”
They lapse into silence once more, but inside Sho can hear his heart picking up speed, beating to that irritating pulse.
When they were little Jun had always seemed a little out of reach. He was an easy charmer, inwardly awkward but outwardly perfect. Jun had known the right things to say and the proper way of acting, and even though Sho had known too, could make friends with the best of them, it was Jun they always seemed to drift towards. He was like the sun, with its gravitational pull drawing people forward and then keeping them at arm’s length yearning for more. 10-year-old Sho had dreamt of spinning closer and closer, until one day he would be able to see past the blinding light to the stillness and secrets he knew were hidden within. He thinks he’ll keep wanting that forever.
Just as Sho thinks they are going to sit in silence for the rest of the night, Jun clears his throat.
“I want to ask you something.”
“Yeah?” Sho says.
“I just want to know,” Jun says quietly, “why you need to see the Wearh Elder so badly. Do you miss home that much? Every time you talk about it, it sounds like you hated being there.”
“That’s because…” but Sho can’t finish the sentence.
That’s because I was alone, the invisible words sing out into the darkness.
“Because?” Jun persists. “Because why? I really don’t get it Sho, what do you need from them?”
“I have to know,” Sho says, and there’s a desperate edge in his voice. “I need to know why. It’s important.”
“Why is it so important?” Jun asks in return, voice soft. “What could you possibly want to know? Why can’t you just let it go?”
“You don’t understand,” and Sho tries to breathe, tries to keep his voice steady. “A part of me died that day, Jun. All of you died.”
“Except we didn’t,” - words so low, they may have been a whisper. “We’re right here.”
Dark eyes steady and impenetrable, Jun reaches out a thumb, swipes it gently down Sho’s jaw, before cradling it in his hand.
“We’re right here.”
But as much as Sho wants to believe - as much as being right here, right now, and caught in Jun’s golden haze bends and shakes him - he can’t give it up.
He has to go.
“Please-” Jun starts to say, but suddenly stills, hand holding firm.
“When I say run, run,” he commands, and Sho nods into his palm.
A crashing comes from the trees, and Jun hisses, “Run!,” and Sho flies up with a speed he didn’t know he possessed.
They run towards the shack, and Ohno’s already opening the door for them when they are metres within reach.
“If we go in, we have nowhere to hide!” Sho realises, coming to a halt.
“Neither will it,” Jun argues, pushing him in. “And this way only one can enter at a time. It’s our only chance.”
Sho has no choice but to stumble inside, and Ohno and Jun push their weight against the door just as a heavy crash rocks the battered hut.
Nino and Aiba both awaken immediately, heads snapping up and hands reaching for their weapons. They spring to their feet and position themselves in front of Sho, who once again hates himself for his incompetence.
The Wolf bashes its body against the doorframe again to the sound of snapping wood, causing Jun to grunt in effort.
“It’s not going to hold for long,” Aiba says through gritted teeth.
“We should let it in, catch it by surprise,” Nino suggests, and Jun and Ohno, like mirror images, turn to each other before letting out a breath and taking a step back. Just like that.
Sho has barely a second to prepare himself, before the door is thrown down upon the floor, and a howl rips through the walls, burning the blood in his ears.
Snapping jaws.
A looming shadow.
Yellow, intelligent eyes.
Sho gasps and flattens himself against the wall, scrabbling around for some kind of loose rock or stick to use to protect himself.
The wolf is huge, almost two metres tall, coarse brown fun bristling along muscled lines, ears flattened back and snout worked into a teeth-baring snarl. It’s a living nightmare of hot, musky flesh, and it makes the pulsing beat in his head resonate throughout his body.
And then Nino is throwing the spear at its neck with unerring precision. It sticks unsteadily, but Ohno grabs hold and pushes it in, before being flung back by the thrashing monster. Jun fills the gap and leaps forward, burying his dagger in the centre of its chest. The Wearh howls in pain and rises up, smacking down on Jun’s chest, drawing a long line of blood. He crumples to the floor in a heap, like a centipede curling inwards. And then Aiba is flying, barely avoiding the ripping claws along his arms and the razor teeth snapping in his hair, and twisting the knife deeper, pulling downwards.
Blood begins to spill out in torrents, and without realising Sho’s picking up log after log of firewood and throwing them, hitting the Wearh between the eyes and at its back, anywhere he can so that it just turns away, so that it dies before one of them does. He keeps throwing even when it collapses on the ground, legs dragging and twitching in the dirt, and mouth spitting foam.
He doesn’t realises it’s dead until Nino places a hand on his arm, and looks him in the eyes and says, “It’s okay. It’s over.”
And then Sho’s leaning into Nino’s shoulder, grip hard enough to leave marks, while Nino trails his fingers through his curls, whispering nonsensical words of comfort.
*
Dawn arrives and the rest don’t come. Ohno shrugs and says that maybe they realised they were outnumbered, but the way he keeps glancing furtively at the broken door suggests he thinks it’s only a matter of time.
They’re all so lucky - bruised and battered and crusted in red - but so damn lucky. Aiba’s the worst, with a gash above his left ear now bandaged with part of Nino’s ripped shirt, but he keeps smiling around tired eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Sho says quietly, pressing water against Jun’s chest, cleaning the shallow wound. “I shouldn’t have asked you all to come.”
“Then we’ll turn back,” Jun says simply, stopping the movements of Sho’s hand with his own. “It’s not too late.”
Sho shakes his head, ignoring the rush of heat that centres around Jun’s touch. “No,” he says resolutely. “You should leave, but I need to keep going.”
“We're not going to leave you,” Jun states firmly, and Ohno grunts his acquiescence.
Sho finds that he doesn’t have the heart to argue.
As they prepare to leave, Sho leans forward to take one final look at the dead animal, its yellow eyes frozen in an impassive stare. It looks somewhat smaller now, not the giant that had filled the room, and Sho feels something like pity and shame and disquiet in the pit of his gut.
When he finally rises to the sound of Nino’s call, a voice coils itself around his brain like poisoned smoke.
You’ve killed my kin. Come and find me.
Sho looks around startled, but no one else seems to have noticed; they have all already walked from the shack. These were words only meant for him.
Find me at the cave.
*
They continue up the mountain, working a haphazard trail into the forested floor. The sun has broken through the trees; the sky bright and dazzling and blue, but the air retains a hint of cold. Hours pass and the trees begin to become sparser and shorter as they close in. The dirt below them too has gone from being soft and black to a stonier brown that makes Sho’s knees ache.
He doesn’t tell them about the voice, fearing they’ll think him crazy. Hell, he’s definitely wondering that himself.
It’s only when Aiba suddenly stops in front of him that Sho gets any kind of indication that they’re heading in the right direction.
“Look,” Aiba says, loud voice grating against the currents of silence they’ve been walking in.
He’s pointing at a large boulder to the right of their path, and they all move forward at the same pace to surround it. At first it seems rather unremarkable, it’s just a big rock. Then he notices a series of light curves on the surface.
They lean inwards, and he hears Nino breathe in sharply.
The lines have probably been etched with another stone sharpened to a point, and they’re so faint they give the impression of having been there hundreds of years. They illustrate a large hollow with lines flowing out in all directions, and underneath a wolfish face, long canines extending and traceable strokes of fur. Even in stone, the artist has captured the menacing eyes and fierce grin.
“Do you think…?” Sho asks, swallowing hard, and Jun nods once, jaw tense.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
They don’t get much further without seeing more signs. A carving in the side of a dead tree, a placement of small pebbles. It’s not only Sho who's on the lookout for a cave now, but when Ohno halts their course and raises a hand, Sho’s heart still shudders in his chest.
There’s a large burrow in the ground a few metres ahead, surrounded by a series of stones, too heavy to have been moved individually, and a scatter of bones of all different sizes, rodents and human alike. It looks like some kind of spirit shrine or sacrificial alter, and the pulse in Sho’s head nearly splits his skull with its pounding.
“I’m going in,” Sho states, more confident than he feels.
“I’ll go too,” Jun says, but Sho’s shaking his head even before the words are fully out.
“No, I’m going alone.”
Jun stares at Sho, eyes creasing in focus, and Sho tries hard not to waver. A part of him wants to take the words back, to grab Jun’s elbow and drag him down with him. But he presses his lips together and squares his sloping shoulders instead.
“Fine,” Jun says eventually, and Aiba lets out a breath beside them.
“Thought that was going to last forever,” he says with an awkward grin, and Sho reaches out and pulls him into a hug.
Ohno follows with a firm pat on the back, and Nino lingers long enough to whisper, “Don’t fucking die, okay?” in his ear.
They all step back with awkward waves as Jun says, “I’ll walk you there,” even though it’s right in front of them.
The entrance to the burrow looks dark and ominous, and he reaches out to take hold of Jun’s hand. He’s surprised when Jun suddenly pulls him forward and buries his head in the crook of his neck, warm breath against his skin. He smells like the musky earth and old sweat and everything that Sho’s come to think of as home.
“I wish I’d found you sooner,” Sho says uselessly, voice low and rough.
Jun doesn’t reply, merely presses closer, and Sho lets himself linger in his embrace, open palms pressed against his back, until he feels the maddening call pulling him forward.
When Sho finally moves away, he looks up and thinks he finally sees it - the secret hidden in Jun’s eyes.
*
Sho has to bend himself in half to fit through the opening of the burrow, but it’s not long before the space widens considerably and he’s able to stand at full height. He walks further and further down, until the light from above is only a small pinprick, like a lone star in an abandoned sky.
Eventually his foots find wetness underneath and he hesitates to go on. It’s then that the voice chooses to speak, once again splintering into his head.
Sho. You killed my brother.
Sho pauses before grasping for courage with sweaty hands. “We had to.”
We want you gone. You should not be here.
“Then why am I here?” Sho says, a little louder, trying to stay strong against the crushing voice.
You came to us. We didn’t want you here. You came with your questions.
“I need to know!” and he’s trying not to plead. “I want you to tell me!”
What do you want to know? What is so important that you would kill to find out?
Sho finds his control shattering, and the questions break forth, skittering recklessly across the darkness. “Why? Why did you take them? Why do you do this?”
His voice sounds rough and hard against the echoing coldness.
Is that the question you really want to ask? the low hiss slips through his mind.
Sho feels his legs weakening below him, and his knees and palms hit the rocks, breaking skin, grazing, drawing blood.
“No,” he whispers. “No. It’s just…I just…” The words, so long held inside, stick in his throat painfully before he splutters and wrenches them out. “Why didn’t you take me?”
A blinding light appears and the persistent tinny beat pounds harder in the back of his head, and Sho fights it, hates it, begins to realise what it means.
“No…” Sho murmurs into the stone. “No, please…”
They want you back, Sho, the voice repeats, so horribly weighted with knowing. It’s time for you to go.
Like the hand of God wrapping around his chest, Sho feels his body jerk forward with powerful force, and he is suddenly and helplessly dragged towards the light.
*
When Sho wakes, it’s like he’s entering a new world.
*
He finally regains consciousness, tubes trailing from his nose and his arms.
The doctors try to explain it to him, but Sho can barely listen.
The beige walls stare back at him lifelessly, matching the sallow hue of his skin. The fluorescent lights above him only seem to suck the colour out of the room instead of illuminating it.
They keep talking, but the words are all muffled white noise and incomprehensibilities.
You were dreaming. You’ve been in a coma all this time. It’s perfectly natural. None of that was real…
Sho feels like a fucked up Alice in Wonderland, like a warped Taoist butterfly. Except he looks at the faint lines of red on his hands and knees, so much like grazes from falling onto stony ground, and he knows, he fucking knows.
*
They let him out after a week. He makes a speedy recovery despite having been unconscious for so long. He tries to go back to his old life, but everything appears even more futile now. He finds himself lost in daydreams of curling humidity and sleeping under a ceiling of stars and smooth golden skin.
One day Sho doesn’t go to work, but he doesn’t think anyone will miss him. He catches the train down to the beach, hoping for a glimpse of deep sapphire, but the water only reflects a dull, murky grey.
So he sits there on the beach under the burning heat, feeling as dry as the sand beneath him, picking at pieces of scattered seaweed, breaking pieces and tying them in knots. Everything feels exhausted. Even the sky above him - a cloudless, washed-out blue - seems to be giving up. Sho wishes, for a small, hateful moment that the world would give him up, too.
But then he remembers Ohno’s words, the theory of planes and reality, and decides, he is not giving up - he’s giving in.
Sho makes his way slowly across the dunes and into the sea. He can feel the salt water lapping gently against his skin, rocking him slightly back and forth.
And then he can barely touch the bottom, and his head ducks under the water for the first time and the muted sounds of moving air and living sea echo around him uncannily, like the dissonance of a thousand heartbeats of a thousand souls lost. When he breaks the surface and his lungs greedily drink in the air, he wonders - hopes - that his body is beginning to lose the fight.
The tides roll in, and the sun sinks towards the horizon, but Sho continues to stands there as if cast in stone, slowly sinking into the sand below.
A gasp of air.
The taste of salt.
A stinging in his lungs.
Two familiar yellow eyes.
His pulse slips and slides and then pauses - a glimpse of starlight and lunar gold - and then a smile stretches slowly over pale cheeks.
“Hey, Sho,” Jun will say when they finally find him, an easy smile pulling at his lips and mysteries under starlight unravelling in his eyes. “Welcome home.”