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Entry tags:
The Alternate Universe Meme
The Alternate Universe Meme
1. Comment with your character.
2. Others will reply with an AU idea.
3. Thread. Profit.
AUs can be any AU of any kind, but if you need ideas, I have this masterlist and this tumblr to get you started.
no subject
He still remembers that day clearly. The Witch summoned him to her office (quite literally; magicked away right as he was clocking out), and he stood in front of her desk with that air of impatience that suggested he wouldn't tolerate having his time wasted by even his own boss. In front of the Witch was a simple sheet of paper. She signed it, and told him to do the same with his real name: Akira Midousuji. It was the closure of his contract, and he had only an hour before he would be returning home.
Maybe it was just the heat of the moment weighing down on him, but he remembers clearly the very first thing he asked the Witch.
An Akira that hadn't been through the trials of Koriko, months and months of it, would have been content to sign the papers and just wait for his return, or perhaps might ask if she'll certainly make good on his wish, but the wish became secondary to him in the moment. He could wait to see whether it was true or not. (Being the best cyclist by a wish... That's the last thing he wanted, so instead, Akira changed his wish. He wished instead to nullify any wishes to become the best by fellow cyclists, like Naruko, Imaizumi or anybody else. A simple, tactical wish that leaves everything up to the purity of drive and completely overturns his opponents. In a sense, it's a victory for Akira!) Instead, he remembers a strange feeling bubbling up inside of him as he broke the quiet of the room with his sharp voice: "Will I remember this place?"
A futile question, and she reminded him as much. The Witch couldn't guarantee that anybody's memories would remain in-tact, she said, and he noticed the upward curve at the edges of her lips that spoke to her suspicion of Akira's change in character. How devious of the Witch, to bring him here so that he might adapt in this way, only for her to tear him away from that which he once rejected, but now embraces in some way.
He remembers even to this day when he walked out from that office, serenely accepting the terms of his return. He remembers staring at the ceiling on the top floor. Yes, he remembers thinking to himself that he'll treat it like he's no different from before – if he's to lose his memory or if he's to keep it, what does it matter? Akira closed his eyes at that time and stood there for many, many minutes, cutting and slicing away at the layers that he'd grown around his heart. All these layers... they're a double-edged sword, good and bad. They protect him, they strengthen him, but they weigh him down, don't they?
Knowing Hajime and getting close to her... Surely he knew all along that knowing her, while it gave him feelings and color where there was once a gaping hole and gray, would eventually lead to losing her. Abandon it... Abandon it... He had to let go now, if any time. It couldn't be that hard, and it's just a reminder that he can't let anything grow on him that can perish like this. Something like this... he certainly won't need it, not ever. So he wouldn't say goodbye, he decided. He would only plan on moving forward. He gripped his fists so hard at that his short nails left half-moon imprints on his palms, and he stood around outside of that office listlessly for nearly 40 minutes
Until suddenly, Akira thought of something.
He remembers, so many years ago, that he had his cell phone in his pocket when he went to see the Witch. He remembered the time that Hajime nabbed his phone and input her number into his, uselessly, he always thought. Thought. Akira pulled the phone out and stared at it, so quietly that he could hear the sound of his own heartbeat thudding low and strong.Would they remember? Would they forget? Either way, couldn't he do something about it? Akira typed into his phone madly, backspacing and retyping until he was satisfied with something direct, unburdened. There wasn't much time to wonder whether he should or shouldn't anymore. He hit send using the cell service near the Witch's office, knowing she wouldn't get the message until much later, when she was back home and with a phone sure to be wiped, but plenty able to connect to service. The next step was to write Hajime a note that she would receive just as Akira was sent back to Kyoto.
Though it was written second, it was the first message Hajime would receive from Akira. It read simply: Don't bring your cell phone near the Witch's office. -Midousuji Akira
That was enough, he thought at that time. Succinct. It spoke for him everything that needed to be said: first, his directions. And second, his full name, written without the fear that the Witch would take it away. She had no right to it anymore. His name was enough to say that he was leaving then, and if she wanted to guarantee that she'd have any recollection of him, she'd keep from getting cell service until she, too, fulfilled the terms of her debt.
For however long that took her, the very moment Hajime got cell service again she would find that a message, with some delay, would ping her phone. It's short, awkwardly put, and from a mysterious sender that has no ID in her phone any longer – seems the Witch erased any additional contacts from her list.
I'm Midousuji Akira. Do you remember?
...Sadly, there would never be a response to any message of her own – how could there be, across universes? Akira wouldn't get her reply.
When Akira returned to Kyoto, it was as seamless as when he left. He forgot everything.
The all-rounder woke up in Kyofushi's club room, where he managed to fall asleep on the massage table. It was his second year of high school, and he had no recollection of his time in Koriko. Akira went through his final years of high school without a single regard for it. Without thinking anything was off, without wondering if he was missing a single thing. The 42nd Inter-High passed, and then the 43rd, and no matter what he placed his performance was still impressive enough for him to be scouted by a few universities – convenient, but he decided he would get into whatever school he wanted, no matter how much work he had to put into it. All continued to go according to plan, and not once did the inkling of a parallel existence nag at his brain.
But on the night before his graduation day, he had a peculiar dream sparked by overhearing classmates of his chattering in class about giving their second button to their girlfriends. He fiddled with the button on his uniform on his way home from school, finding the tradition to be an unnecessary one. That night, Akira dreamed of a girl much shorter than he, with dark brown hair and with her teeth at his chest, right over the scar that he got some time during his second year. (By some accident, he decided after months of confusion; there was some nasty spill he managed to get involved with, although he never remembered tearing up his chest like that.) It was so panic-inducing that he nearly woke with a start, but he remained in his captive slumber. The girl bit down, and Akira bit back a scream in return. She twisted her head, twisted it hard, and pulled back...
Between her smile was the second button of his uniform. She told him she'd done this before, but this time, it was to remind him of what's close to his heart, what's there that he couldn't see. Her hand reached for the button between her teeth, and she held it close to her own heart in a gesture that he found oddly reminiscent of... something.
Akira woke up in a cold sweat that morning. It's one of the very few dreams he remembers vividly. There was something about that girl...
During the graduation ceremony, Akira spent his time trying to remember the girl's name. It was during the commencement speech that he remembered, as the speaker said something he found largely unremarkable save for a single word: "As citizens reaching adulthood, it's time for you to begin your lives anew and with vigor, with endless possibilities to pursue."
Hajime Ichinose. He remembered everything all in that moment, reaching with the claws of his mind to something that shouldn't exist. Even when the speaker asked the students to rise, Akira remained seated, completely floored by everything that he'd forgotten that just now, he remembered.
It's been ten years since he was at Koriko, he's counted. Ten years full of Akira going to college, joining a major Tour team and performing well, ten years until he's 26 years old and trying to figure out how he can reach across the universe, if it's even worth trying. Akira stands with one hand perched on the handlebars of his bike in a Tachikawa that doesn't resemble one Hajime would be in, gazing out distantly as he recalls everything he knows about Koriko. Would she remember? Did she get his text message? ...What good would it do him, even if she did?
What a ridiculous distraction. Years have gone on, and with time, it becomes harder and harder to believe what took place was real. The only thing he has to wash away his doubt is the scar over his heart, and even that, he's beginning to wonder. It's so...]
...Gross.
[It's but a mutter under his breath, caught in the wind to disappear. He slides his cell phone back into one of the pockets in his jersey – it's a new phone, but one that he insisted keep his old number. Akira shuts his eyes and thinks to get back on his bike to return to tackling his rigorous and lengthy route in the more mild early-summer heat, but for a moment there, it feels as though the very temperature around him changes.
Even the sounds around him seem to change. What was once a passing family becomes the voices of a few girls, almost as though he's not where he was just before. And then, Akira's phone vibrates in his back pocket. Peculiar, since he rarely gets messages – but if he's to wager a guess, it might be one of the team managers. Akira reaches for his cell phone, but he couldn't be more wrong about the sender
It might just be a message that can finally reach its destination.]
no subject
No, sorry? It's a pretty name, so I defini...
It's impossible, but there's an alert that Akira has 48 unread text messages and one received voice mail. The texts have sporadic dates, as if the person who sent them only decided to send them in the moment. Spontaneous choices in their life, to a number that surely bounced the messages back. Still, there's a name displayed there, and a selfie set as the contact picture, to boot.
Hajime!!! and accompanying picture, taken on his phone at least ten years ago stare back at him. It's impossible, but there's even a voice mail there.
No, sorry? It's a pretty name, so I definitely would remember.
Hmm~ Did we meet at a collage group?
Gatcha~~
...
Uwah. It bounced?
That's super weird. I just got this message. Are you an alien?
Hajime remained in Koriko after Akira had left. It's hard to measure that time, now, but back then, it'd been a struggle to not be aware of it. She heeded his orders and did not bring her phone anywhere near the Witch's office. Akira left, and the proof was in the pudding: he was no longer listed as a resident anywhere on the island. It was a day they both knew would come, and because of that, she refused to let it devastate her. Knowing that, the fact he'd gone as far as to leave her a message like that, surely... he had a plan.
But Hajime isn't the sort to wait around, so sitting on her debt and accumulating a bunch of little things wasn't an option anymore. She felt it in her heart; she was nearing the end of her bargain. The blank space on Hajime's contract, where a wish would be written, was filled in a year after he left. She'd taken it back after waking up, under the agreement that instead of a wish, for now, the revival fee would be all she'd work on. After his leave, she had something that she wanted to strive for. In the Witch's professional handwriting, it was scrawled:
"I want Akira and I to meet again."
Selfish. But signing her life away should be a decision made for herself. Akira had to have some kind of personal wish like that, too, she thinks.
I thought about this number again, so I'll try it once more.
Akira Midousuji-kun, if you're out there, please!!
Respond!
It's too mysterious~
It's certainly a difficult wish to fulfill, and there's a lifetime of servitude to act out as payment. Hajime does so willingly. He's done his part. She can tell, and though a part of her always wondered what would happen if she brought her phone near the Witch's office, she doesn't. His plan hinges on the reason why being hidden from her.
Throughout the years, it sits in her room when she visits or is summoned, not at all forgotten. The temptation is great, but she's stronger than it, and smiles the entire time. It's necessary and furthermore, she makes it possible, because this is how Akira is fighting back for something that is his own.
There's a boom of spirit activity, and Hajime makes a point to work by the Witch's side in ensuring some kind of peace. During her stay on Koriko, the resort island endures, protected by the Gatchaman with a caring and thoughtful hand. Still, she wonders if Akira might have been able to give his input on the situations and fights that arose. Despite his prickly nature, he wasn't illogical, nor was he unintelligent. What he had to say about a situation was worth listening to, and if he were here, how would he respond...?
However difficult it was, she had a goal to strive for. The Witch reminds her that they might not recognize each other when they do reconnect every year or so, a pained quirk to her smile, but Hajime continues on. She trusts a boy over her employer.
It ends in the middle of October, when the Halloween decorations are going up. Thinking on it, there must have been about fifteen years of work on her back. It's when someone hangs up a banner in one of the reception halls in the hotel that she's snapped back to the Witch's office to sign her contract one last time. Fifteen years is apparently enough.
Her phone sits in her room.
At the last minute, Hajime makes her way across Koriko, bursting through her room to grab it, popping open the case to ensure it is still there. A last ditch effort sits there inside her phone, only barely bent. In combination with whatever it is Akira's plans from years ago are, this should do the trick. She's confident.
She wakes up in bed in the Gatchaman HQ, surrounded by people she loves and cares for, but there's a spot missing between them where someone else would fit perfectly.
Hm... My heart's telling me something weird, Akira-kun.
Or is it Akira-chan? I don't know why, but I feel like it's Akira-kun.
But... today I opened my phone case, and a purikura sheet was in there.
It was me and a guy I've never seen before.
^ That's a lie, though, right? Because this is definitely me.
In these stickers, it's me. Me and you, right?
When I saw it, I could only think about the name in these messages.
It's absolutely the first time I've ever seen it.
But, um... Ahaha.
Sometimes it's a little painful. Looking at it, I mean!
"Akira Midousuji."
It reminds me of a thunderstorm, and my heart aches a little bit.
...It's weird, but I think you'll read this some day, so I'll leave it for you to discover.
By the way, you're adorable. Your eyes look black, but they're actually super purple, aren't they? How cuuuuute~~~
It's been a month since she received that initial, mysterious message, and Hajime discovers a sheet of purikura in her phone case. It's dented where chips and bits were. The colors are faded, but what it is in her hands is distinct; herself, dangling off the shoulders of someone much taller, who stares into the camera with a blank expression. His eyes are dark, and wide. There isn't a reflection of light in his eyes, but she can tell he's staring into the camera.
It affects her more than it should. She sticks the largest one onto her desk, and another is stuck to her lampshade. Yet another sticker decorates the face of her clock. Her room in the apartment she shares with Sugane is a bright, chaotic sight, but the addition of this boy's image stirs up an emotion she can't quite ignore. It's like finding an old pair of shoes that fit just right.
!! I've decided!
I'll wait until these stop bouncing back.
If you're an alien, it might take a while to get that signal again, huh?
Be patient, be patient, me~
It'll work out ☆
Hajime graduates with special honors on account of being a member of the Gatchaman. She thinks that she hasn't put in that much work as a student, but knowing her work as a superhero is appreciated makes her smile. She checks her phone multiple times through out the night, but no messages come through from the mysterious Akira Midousuji. A selfie is sent, and it bounces back.
She doesn't go to university, if only because she wants to do something else with her time. Hajime works in disaster relief when she can, but most of her days are spent moving up at Orion Papyrus, where she continues to work despite her status as G-101. There are bursts where she has to be regulated toward working in the back, her face too easily recognizable to keep the shop manageable. The majority of the time, however, she can peacefully work the floor as an employee, helping people find the stationery they're shopping for. She tells her mother about the alien she's texting, and the only response she gets is a hesitant but supportive message in return. Hajime does what she wants, and even her mother knows that, so she continues the brief, sporadic correspondence with a number that repeatedly sends her texts back to her.
Directly after completing university, one of her friends gets married, and for some reason, Hajime thinks about a hundred day ceremony where she tosses the rock out of the window. It unsettles her, so she sends a text about the day only when she's had a few drinks. Somehow, it makes texting this number easier.
Hello~~~
Today~~~~ my friend got married.
It's weird to think we are at that age now!
At some point, I feel like i said... "I'"m not thinking about it much because I'm young."
Was that to you?
Well, when you watch it in front of you, it's easy to think about it. But I don't feel like there's much of a desire to get married in me.
That might be strange, but it's just natural to me.
...I just thought to tell you this!
Maybe that's the weird part~~~ Wow
There is no response.
It's been six years, and Hajime Ichinose does not remember Akira Midousuji. She doesn't remember a thunderstorm laden confession, nor does she recall attending a gala together. She doesn't remember a lonely Christmas, she doesn't remember a Valentine's Day where he eats glue. What she does remember, one movie night, is teeth shredding through her flesh. It's a sudden, sharp memory, as if bumping into an old bruise, and she yelps in surprise as the horror movie continues to unfold. Rui assumes that Hajime is just as terrified as he is, and offers to turn it off. She doesn't respond, and the film continues in its gore.
At midnight, she remembers survival tactics that lead her and another person to eating each other. Feeding off the other until the fourteenth day peters out. It's a horrific dream, but it feels like a turning point, a moment where her life was thoroughly entwined with someone else's. When Hajime sits up in bed in the morning, she checks the old scar in her side. Tracing it, she thinks she can almost make out the shape of teeth marks. A trick her mind is playing on her, she rationalizes. Her day begins the same as it always does.
...That scar.
I thought I had it for a long time and just never noticed. Things like that happen, right? You wake up with a scratch, or something.
But...
The truth is...
It storms one day, in Tachikawa. She watches the rain from the sitting room and drinks a cup of warm hojicha, her hair pulled up and away from her neck. Even in this weather, the beginnings of summer's heat sticks to her skin. The grey haze of rain, the fog that raises from the concrete... the colors of the city sit desaturated now. Neon lights burn brightly but there isn't a hint of the yellow sunshine she admires in the sky. This is fine, too. You have to water a sunflower for it to grow, after all. ]
Yellow, huh...
[ "Yellow" sticks to her lips, rough and dry, a far off memory that knocks on the door of her mind. She thinks, repeats the word over and over. She pictures it in a wheel of shades, all kinds of yellows that burn with-- ]
Happiness.
[ She's not really sure where that came from, but it holds strong and true in Hajime's heart, a heavy burden that she can't ignore. She thinks about the sticker sheets, Akira Midousuji, the color yellow, a mysterious scar, and the memory of skin being broken against teeth. They mingle with the mist of the rain, and Hajime feels another word on her tongue as she remembers a shock of yellow down a dark scalp: ]
Grossss...?
[ She hesitates, wrinkling her nose in thought.
Hey.
This is like, the thirtieth one, right?
Totally. It's definitely number thirty.
Anyway~
I just wanted to say you're not gross.
From balcony on her apartment, she watches two birds soar across the horizon. They flap their wings, effortlessly, looking free and pretty. Hajime takes a bite of her popsicle, humming. ]
...Akira, huh.
[ Bright sunshine is what she pictures as she says that person's name--
And she imagines a thin, knobby finger tapping at display paper, where she's scrawled the kanji.
No, no, it's more like sparkles, fireworks going off in every direction as an unsavory personality bites back at every turn. A red carpet of insults rolls out with his tongue, and he grins down at her, flashing a "real smile". A memory, and she feels like she could spread her wings again. ]
Nice to meet you, Akirakira.
[ A voice mail is sent when the pieces line up. Bits of it are still gone, but she's confident now. She knows something for sure; the sticker sheet was deliberate, but the only person who could have put it there was herself. The text message was deliberate, but the only person who could have even thought or cared to send it was-- ]
I looked at the date on my first message! Eeeeeight whole years, huh! I've been waiting that long for you to come find me, but you're really dedicated to keeping a girl waiting, aren't you? Is this what they mean when they say fashionably late? But I remember that purple suit, and you would still look better in something double breasted, Akirakira. 'Cause you're actually really handsome. Super adorable, and cute, and--!
Did I ever tell you? I didn't have a wish back then. But I do now. Can't you hurry it up? I'm getting restless! I can't hold myself back, you know. I remember you, Akirakira. I love you! I told you that I'd say it whenever I wanted to, didn't it?
I'm so worked up! I can't contain myself anymore, I'm gonna eeeeeeexplode! I'll do it, so... so I'll find you, okay?
[ It ends there.
The most recent text message is marked with today's date, timed at around five am. It's a blindingly bright picture of the sunrise, neon yellows stretching across tall buildings and a skyline that looks more whimsical than the one Akira can see. It's the same Tachikawa, but it's like her eye for cute things has influenced the photo, drawing out a personality you might not always spot in the city's buildings.
It's a good morning! So bright! Yellow is the color of happiness, right? Isn't it? ]
no subject
In a way, he was hoping something different would happen. Hoping. Even though Tour de France is coming up fast, even though he has careful calculation put into the structure for every day and every possibility, standing in Tachikawa made him wonder if he couldn't just... blend their existences.
It's completely irrational. He's busy, anyway. A text from his sporting manager will be a reminder of that, he thinks, and he blinks around the city with those characteristic darkened circles hanging under his eyes – either to seek something that really pops as odd or different, or to find that there's nothing at all. Whatever. Akira clicks the power button on his phone.
There's a number texting him that he doesn't recognize. 48 times. The preview on the screen is enough to freeze time and Akira lifts his other hand to clutch onto his phone in disbelief. "No, sorry? It's a pretty name, so I defini..." A pretty name... What? Who is this? He squints closer to his screen, a queasy wave crashing over him at the possibilities that he won't allow himself to get... hopeful for. Hopeful used loosely – there's no way Akira would let himself hope for something like this! It's just not feasible.
But he remembers the message he sent ten years ago. It was short, so it's hard to forget. His skin prickles, and he unlocks his phone to see the damage as he leans against the wall right behind his bike.
"No, sorry? It's a pretty name, so I definitely would remember." That's the very first message he reads, and it's from so long ago. So long, that Akira's convinced this number belongs to Hajime – but along with the message is a VCF for contact details. He applies them, and her name shows up with a picture of her just the way he remembers her.
Akira stops there. He holds the phone at a distance from his face, eyes locked on her picture, and something he doubted for years becomes real. No longer is Hajime just a memory, but there's a photo, there are texts and her number in his phone once again, if the scar on his chest from her teeth wasn't enough. His eyes scroll to the tops of buildings and he takes in details that suddenly seem sharper than before, but it's not because anything looks different. It's a moment he's living, isn't it?
Tour de France isn't waiting, but Akira decides he'll shift his schedule around a little to give himself some time. Some things only happen for a time so fleeting, it nearly escapes you ten years in the future, he's found. Some things don't last.
He taps his screen to power it back up and unlocks the device again to continue reading as Hajime sends messages to what she naturally assumes is an alien, and he supposes one of them qualifies as an alien, depending. Whose Tachikawa is this, anyway? He snorts at the thought and watches the progression of a Hajime that has miraculously forgotten all about him as she tries in vain to reach out to him somehow. He scrolls down past more messages, eyes drinking up the sight of them and her attempts to call out to him like she could just summon forth this elusive "alien" like that. He finds himself baring his teeth and clicking them together ever so slightly until he comes across another more remarkable message, one where...
One where she's found that purikura sheet from Setsubun. He finds himself feeling colder under the mid-morning sun, colder than he should while standing under the filtered light from an overhead tree isolated in a sea of sidewalk. He no longer has the sticker from that sheet that she offered him, but she managed to find it in there... Did the Witch truly not check?
Before, he thought about not hoping. But he finds himself doing just that, hoping that with the combination of those photos and the message that she might... quit this. That she might remember. Akira doesn't know why he has all of these messages now, but it's odd, watching as she spends years, here and there, wondering aloud about the identity of this mysterious Midousuji Akira via bounced text messages. All he can do is continue reading in this saga. He takes another breath in and continues down, past her connecting the dots between him and the name he gave her ten years prior. Painful, she describes it, and his eyes linger on the word. Painful. Is that what that would be? Whenever he feels pricks in his legs at far too late, wondering how and when and where and if he'd ever be able to see somebody lost to him. Even being in another world isn't as final as death is, but it creates this weight over his body that, without fail, he feels compelled to leave behind with each pedal of his bicycle.
He continues scrolling, distracted by the concept of painful, even as he reads about her realization that the scar she has might be more than she thinks. When Akira thinks pain, he thinks about that and realizes nothing's hurt that much, not even the worst spill he's had. He fancies himself lucky at times, but strategic at others – a guy who usually knows how to avoid getting involved in a wreck. But he's had his share, and every time, he remember the pain of being eaten alive. None are quite the same as that – it's hard to forget. Hard to forget, so maybe for her...
Akira keeps scrolling. Few and fewer unread messages remain, and his eyes linger one each one with interest he hasn't had in a lot of things in too long. Finally, the log marks... she tried calling him two years ago. There's a voicemail. Leave it to Hajime to keep him on his toes, and he finds his insides tying up in knots as he pulls the phone up to his ear to listen.
And he recoils at the sound of her voice right away.]
Whaat—!?
[It's a lot to take in at once. Despite being able to remember, the sound of her voice has faded from memory. It hits him like a truck, the quality of it, and he remembers why his memory serves him with the thought that it's grating and loud. Because it is, and he wrinkles his nose as he listens, and that look of disgust intensifies as she describes him in a double-breasted suit. As if I'd take advice from somebody who dresses like her, he finds himself thinking again. But his face smooths out and his eyes dart to the ground – anybody watching his reactions would find his facial gymnastics to be something, with how easily his expression morphs at the mere thought of this or that. This time, it's her gushing over him again as cute and handsome. Reading it was one thing, but hearing her say it...
It was two years ago, he reminds himself.
The message continues, whether he's ready for it or not, and that queasiness overcomes him full-force when she proclaims her love for him. It's ten years after the fact and even still, he gets that feeling when he hears her say it. When he just remembers it, it's not quite as strong, but hearing I love you! on her voice again is dizzying. Hearing that she remembers him... It feels like took years for him, too, even if he only watched those years unfold compacted into 48 messages.
...47. There's still one left. It's dated to this morning, and Akira first wonders what she was doing up so early. But that answer comes to him easily. It's not like he's forgotten.
The text box beneath all of these messages is highlighted when he reaches the bottom, and tapping it again summons the keyboard. 48 whole messages, and she's still chattering away... She'd keep going, even if he never replied. Would she ever give up? (What was that bit about her wish that she mentioned in her voicemail? What was all that debt about, anyway?) Right away, his fingers go for the keys – there's not a long pause to figure out what he should say or anything.
Ten years and you're still chattering away? STILL?? Gross
Gross grooooss
Tours are a lot quieter than the Inter-High ever was, with language barriers abound. There's less opportunity to badger his opponents with words, but talking to somebody from his past pulls the attitude right back out of him where it's never left. He hits send, but he realizes afterward that his heart is thudding loud in his ears.]
no subject
When she remembered him, she didn't remember his voice, but rather, she recalled the quirks of it. The way he spoke strangely, with an air of sounding a tad off. "Gross" was part of that impression. Hearing it said plainly on someone else's voice sounded like it was simply wrong. She associated it with someone, and it wasn't the people who said it. It lacked the bite of Akira's tone.
When Hajime's phone goes off with an alert, she expects it to be a GALAX notification. She's left a gift in Utsutsu's house today, a pair of sparkling, black fur cat ears to go upon her avatar's head. Even years later, she is an avid user of the app, and though Utsutsu only opens it once in a while, now, Hajime still thinks to leave her something new to discover every time she does. Out of the apartment complex, she suspects that Utsutsu has discovered the digital accessory and was sending her a thank you message for it, as is customary, but instead, it's a text notification.
Curious, she places down the box of fries, and picks the phone up off the table. WacDonald's sits forgotten for a moment as 💕💕💕Akirakira💕💕💕 blinks at her. The display leaves her speechless for a moment, breath caught in her throat. It's trapped there as she stares at the name, the fact there is a notification at all. It's the preview of the message pushes it out in a loud, drawn out scream -- several patrons of this particular fast food chain turn to look at her.
She doesn't care.
Akira answered.
She taps the screen, opening up the conversation, and -- it's... it's real.
"Gross grooooooss"... A sensation bubbles up inside her, popping like an evening out at the end of the night. There's the promise of comfort, like a warm bed, waiting for her. It's calming, and it feels right. Just seeing it typed like that is enough for her to feel like that feeling of deja vu won't overcome her.
This is absolutely him.
Hajime's body quivers in sheer delight, fingers unsteady as she tries to unlock her phone. A pleased noise escapes her and an employee shoots her a glare but she doesn't care because Hajime slams the call button with all the excitement of ten years of build up hitting her. No, it's more than that. It's been twenty five years since she's seen him, if she includes the time in Koriko. The name of the island seems like something she's only heard in passing, at this point; there are times when she wonders how it is that she was able to live two different lives. Another five years and she'd have lived through the beginning of her life without him, again. But this... Hajime prods at herself with the plastic fork in disbelief. It stings, and she squeals again. It's real! Without a doubt, the no longer mysterious Akira Midousuji is calling her!
She expects it to, just like last time, go straight to his voice mail. Maybe it's only a temporary signal, she thinks. Hajime prepares herself for this possibility, eyes wide and glimmering with excitement. It's hard to beat herself into a state where she's prepared to say goodbye, again -- but Akira's like something of a high school sweetheart, right? Even if it was more of a work place thing.
The other sign of the line rings. ]
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It's terrifying.
All the same, it's not. It makes him want to run, but he steels himself with his phone held firmly in his two hands. But before he can take the call, Akira makes sure to glance up again, just to have a look around this familiar Tachikawa that seems surreal all the same. And surreal is what he's met with: the curve of the modern-looking rails, the towering, bright white Lumine building across from him, even the division from architecture to the sky overhead seems sharper to his eyes. People in all shapes and colors flock around the station, peppering the pavement with color that surrounds him. He exhales through his mouth: he hadn't realized he was holding his breath like this.
It rings twice.
...It's definitely not a matter of whether he's ready or not. In fact, he's not ready at all. "That'd be weird." All he can do is make the choice: answer it, or not. But he doesn't know why he didn't anticipate that she'd call.
Maybe he thought she'd abstain at first. Find it inappropriate. Pfft. As if! He knows better, when it comes to Hajime. She goes right for what she wants!
Or maybe he thought she'd send him a message first, something he can see with his eyes and digest for as long as he needs. But any sort of desire for that kind of outcome is shut down immediately. Akira doesn't need that kind of treatment, and he can manipulate and spin a conversation just the same. What's with these excuses? They're all to keep from taking the call. Am I afraid...?
Without giving himself another chance to think it over, Akira swipes the accept icon just before the placed call makes it to the third ring.]
...
[...He's convinced himself that he can take this call, easy.
That there should be no evidence of anticipation, no sight of the ten years he spent waiting for the chance to reach out to the first person who touched him so remarkably, but it's too much. It sparks in his blood, pricks at his skin. Nerves electric, mind running faster than he could ever hope to compare on his bike. But the call is answered here, and...
Akira wants to give Hajime something of him after she, too, spent years and years with a contact that never replied to her. He remembers wishing that he still had her number in his phone so that he could put his many thoughts somewhere, so that he could give them to somebody he knew deep down was real and shared his experiences. Even if the possibility existed that she'd never get them, he occasionally wished anyway. But Akira didn't have a Hajime!! in his phone any longer, so naturally, his thoughts stayed with him, on lock-down. Stayed in his head, stayed in his heart to be spent on blood, sweat and exertion beyond his limits.
See, in retrospect, he considers that having her number would be harder than not. Hajime had his all this time, and years went by where she pondered his relevance to her with nothing heard back. She figured it out after all, but a name that gave no words lingered in her phone for ages, and he wonders if she might have wondered if it would just stay there forever like that.
Ultimately, why would she waste her time with some written words when she could call? She wouldn't wait longer than she had to for this, and she's not one to hold back when she wants something. The very thought gets Akira to crack a wide smile, as pearly white and perfectly maintained as ever, before he begins.]
Would an "alien" give you his number where you're from? Just like that?
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The bell over the door chimes as she opens it, and his voice exits the the speaker of her phone. It hits her like an electric jolt, and she looks through the crowds like she might see him on his De Rosa, mixed in with all the faces. It sounds off, just a bit; there's certainly a maturity that he's gained, and he sounds older, or maybe memory has decayed specific qualities of his voice to her. She remembers a snappy tone with a higher pitch than his appearance hinted at. There's a hint of the voice she remembers, though, and she slaps a hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh that threatens to spill out, born of sheer excitement. ]
You're the one who left me a text message back on Koriko, though! So it doesn't really matter what an alien would do. Actually, I don't think an alien would keep me waiting this long. It's uniquely Akirakira to make a girl hold onto hope for years.
[ He's the only person who would do this to her, she knows. To that end, he's the only one she'd wait this long for. If it were anyone else, she'd be logical; holding out for an old flame from a parallel universe? That's something that only happens in movies and fantasies, cellphone novels that go on too long and are downtrodden with a desire to make to reach for the tissue box. When it came to being in the situation, though, Hajime finds herself waiting twenty five years for Akira Midousuji, who is something more of a concept now than a solid being.
...Or he would be, if she weren't on the phone with him right now. A horribly exhilarating concept, terrifying in just how huge it is. She considers the possibility that she's dreaming this. Hajime ponders that maybe she'll wake up as soon as she gets to Akira, like all the other dreams she's had like this. He contacts her, she makes her way over, and just as his face comes into view... She wakes up. She hasn't been able to picture Akira as a young adult since the dreams started. She looks toward the picture stuck to the shade on her lamp, and sees an awkward teenager. But what if an adult Akira? Someone who has grown up in a Kyoto where she can't reach him. Is he doing well? Did he get taller? There's barely any hints of an adult physique in that picture, but she imagines that Akira wouldn't get broader, anyway. He's gangly, and that's part of his charm.
She remembers the evening before Christmas Eve. A setting sun, a doppelganger, gold hued eyes. Hajime stared up at him and thought he looked like an adorable gecko, the sort you could see scurrying across rocks in the summer. It's true of that picture, but an adult Akira...? She wonders. Where has life taken him? ]
I can't wait any longer, tell me where you are right now!
[ To prove it, G-101 fires up in a burst of white and pink light. The telltale mechanical sound of her wings opening up resounds in the background, among the white noise of a crowd of onlookers. Reckless, of course, but there's nothing about this situation that isn't incredible, impossible, fantastical, and Hajime won't condemn herself to running all the way to wherever it is that he's situated. A few minutes might be nothing to what feels like half her lifetime, but it's a few minutes she could cut short by bursting over there screaming at the top of her lungs for him. ]
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This is all going way too fast. He exhales, and his thumb hovers over the end call button. ...Why would he do that? The very thought of doing it has some weight nestling itself between his ribs where it's unwanted, and it's not the same sort of weight that he experiences when he thinks about seeing her again.
Funny, how both things remind him of weight. Weight, which is burdensome in the case of hanging up, but that weight that he feels when he imagines her dark hair, her pale eyes, or even what he thinks he heard as G-101 over the speaker... That's the same weight that makes him feel like he'll never tire, isn't it?
It's been ten years, and Akira has had time to digest that feeling. He's had time to race in Tour de France, where he thought of his mother as he pedaled for his dear life and won the yellow jersey in his very first Tour at age 22. Subsequently, it's where he won the white jersey to boot – where on the final stage, the thought of seeing Hajime in the crowds overcame him and burdened him with a weight so heavy of longing, for a moment, he thought it might crush him.
But instead, he absorbed it through his sweat-slicked skin. The weight powered his pedals, and he raised his head as he crossed the finish. ...Rainbow was not his color to wear over the past few years, but since then, it's been his desire. Yellow obtained, white earned, and this year...
This year, he's going to meet Hajime again. Akira brings the phone back to his ear, and he regains the grounding he needs to proceed.]
Aren't you in a rush... No matter how fast you go, if I'm not real, you won't find me at the end. [Somehow, he gets the feeling. Even if she gives no indication of her worries, she's not alone there.] Tachikawa's not a place I go regularly, so I don't know my way around... So I couldn't tell you where. I. Ammmm.
[He's stalling her, more than anything. There's easily something he can tell her about his location, and he's staring at it right now with a grin. Akira tilts his head as he runs his free hand through his hair, pushing it back with his fingers.]
Buuuut... You could try that Lumine building. You might find me, as long as you don't keep me waiting.
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Hey, are we playing Hot and Cold? We totally are, aren't we? Okay, hold on!
[ A rush of wind slams into her -- Hajime takes flight and holds onto her phone, tightly. Certainly, the prospect of meeting someone she's only been able to talk to through text messages that never made their way across the bridge between worlds before strikes a chord in her. Fear, maybe? It mingles with the excitement that's been rooted inside her since she looked at Akira and knew, without a doubt, that even if it was a fluke, even if there was so much going against this, he wasn't a mistake in her life.
She sought him out after landing on Koriko, and she's going to do it again. The fear is overpowered -- she has a lot to say, and do. Did his hands get any better? Has he won Tour de France yet? There's been a question of "would he win?" He would. It's just a question of when.
The telltale figure of G-101 crosses over the building, and it glitters like stardust but feels like an imitation of something far more magical. Hajime's voice breaks through again, excited and abrupt. ]
Hot or cold? Cold or Hot? Hoooooooooooot! Or Cold? [ She whips her head around: up, down, side to side, but she continues floating over the rooftop of Lumine. Pink pingtails that look like they shouldn't move so similarly to hair toss about, moving organically as possible. It's hard to miss the lit up suit of armor, with the bright lights, and neon colors, but Akira's a little more difficult to spot from this angle.
Still, she tries. She's always tried to see him. ]
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[There it continues, that smile on his voice that brims wider and wider the closer she gets. It's terrifying, being pursued, and Akira feels himself fading into the crowds. He's taller than everybody around him, true, but it's like a voluntary thing to keep out of sight – or maybe, it's to keep Hajime out of his.
She hasn't changed. He expected that. Sure, sure: Hajime has likely changed in some ways that are more subtle, but a person like her has a core that stays true to Hajime, just as his own core is truly Akira. A nonsense game at a time like this? Sure, he'll play. He'll stand back up and stand out from the crowd again, and he'll look up at the sky – he hears rockets, so she must be upwards.
The sky is bright, but the speck of Hajime above the department store is somehow brighter. He doesn't squint, but he stares. Akira soaks in the first sight of G-101 he's had in years, knowing that it's Hajime all the same and she's there, for real... Is this real? Is it?
...A game of Hot or Cold may as well serve as the judge. That's right, he'll play. He'll play along, and let this game prove to him what's real and what's not.]
You're warmer than before, but you're not thinking about it through my eyes just yet. You're too worked up! Gross!
[He snaps his teeth together in a smile.]
I see the Lumine building... and I see you. Knowing this, where am I...? Where am I, Hajime?
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That's because I'm not you, Akira!
[ Not matter how much they'd bonded, they were themselves. There was no new conglomerate of the two of them, just Hajime and Akira, a pair who had once been strangers that now bore matching scars on different parts of their bodies. It's true -- she isn't him. She doesn't know where he's parked his bike or what he looks like, even. You can't hide Akira in a crowd, she realizes: he stands out in a crowd. It isn't necessarily because he's unusual looking, though that's apart of it. Akira's height places him above many of the heads in the crowd, and Hajime decides that there's no way she'll miss him.
The fact Akira can see her means that he isn't far, but he isn't close, either. She thinks to possibly ask him to describe where it is that he's situated, but she realizes that he wouldn't make this so easy on her, either. It's a game, after all, with high stakes: he wants her to find him on her own. ]
Let's see, Akirakira can see me but I can't see him...
[ G-101 spins, floating still. A thought strikes her, and she pulls the phone away, but not before turning up the call volume, and putting him on speaker. ]
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakiraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
[ Depending on how far away he is, she should be able to hear the echo from his end, she thinks ]
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She's not him, and that's just normal. What he expected her to do with that request is something smart, tactical, thoughtful, and Hajime doesn't let him down. She clicks at her phone and he wonders if she's hanging up all the way up there, but when she holds it away from her and calls out to him, it becomes clear what she's doing. What Hajime will hear is a distance just close enough for her voice to hit the speaker of his phone faintly, so she'll hear it from that end. This also means that her voice is loud enough to turn heads all around.
And faintly, from Akira's end, is the confusion of Tachikawa's citizens that surround the cyclist.]
"Gatchaman...? Did she just say Akira?"
"Look! It's Hajime!"
[The attention on Hajime, however, has Akira slinking back on reflex. He steps away from the crowd of people semi-frozen in their busy tracks, back toward the wall of a surrounding building where his bicycle is propped. And belatedly, he realizes he inadvertently isolated himself... Being mixed with the crowd was the most concealed place to be, wasn't it? The all-rounder groans, and his voice is more of a hiss than before – it seems he doesn't want the surrounding people to get the idea that he's on the phone with their beloved Gatchaman, now that he's realized they all know her and regard her fondly.
Because of course they do.]
Do you have to be so noisy?!
[...Akira thinks to point out that everybody's looking at her now, but somehow, he gets the feeling that she doesn't mind. And he, too, has grown used to audiences... But not off his bicycle and out of his element. At this rate, she'll spot him and come right down to him so that everybody sees who this Akira is – him! Guilty by association, and Akira feels all he can do is await whatever vomit-inducing scene comes next. Vomit-inducing, dizzying, heart-thudding, nerve-wracking... What is with this mess of sensations, anyway? Akira holds the phone away from his mouth so that he can catch a deep breath without it being too apparent. This doesn't scare him.
It just makes him feel. The moment is real around him, as vivid as a race taking place in a sea of sunflowers all facing the same direction, that exhilaration of the moment... That's what it is.]