Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Classes finished with a stand and respectful bow.

Students now able to pack up their belongings and break out into fluttering conversation, Keito did the former and slid his textbooks into his bag. His classmates passed by his desk, scurrying over to their friends heading out of the classroom.

Keito didn’t see it happen, but when he shut his bag to keep it locked tight, someone knocked into his desk. Something hooked to the side clattered to the floor in a jittery mess. The cause was Takada Satoshi, a popular boy with a love of collecting girls' phone numbers. He offered a quick apology before sprinting out the room, his haphazardly-closed bag in hand.

Takada was too fast for Keito to consider lecturing over his lack of manners. During the few instances Keito had been able to catch him, most warnings went right over his head--in one ear and out the other.

He would feel frustrated, but his fellow classmate didn’t respond well to their teacher, either. Takada’s disinterest in following the advice of his class representative was hardly worth losing sleep over.

Leaning over the side of his desk, Keito plucked up what fell. Bits of dust clung to the nylon material of his standard black umbrella. Flicking some of it off, he rose from his seat and pushed his chair under the desk. He gazed through the window to his left, examining the cloudy skies and the dark shade cast upon them. Before class had ended, the sky rumbled like the starving stomach of a whale. Thin lines of short rain streaked down the windowpane. His classmates had muttered during lessons, anticipating a powerful storm. Once Keito returned home, he’d have to thank his mother for her surveying of the weather forecast. Her fervent demand to carry an umbrella would save his uniform.

Belongings packed and his umbrella hanging from his wrist, Keito headed to the entrance door of his classroom.

“Ah, Hasumi-kun?”

“Yes, Sensei?” Pausing, Keito turned to his teacher; an older man with white beginning to overtake the black in his short beard. He was a born and bred Englishman, yet his grasp on the Japanese language was solid and impressive. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no, no problem at all. A small request, is all.” Smiling thinly at him, his teacher waved a pale hand to call him over. At this point, most of the students had vanished the moment they could. His teacher shuffled through his desk drawer and, after finding what he needed, offered it over to Keito.

'It’ being a stack of papers wrapped in a plain manila folder. Somewhat hefty, he carried the folder in both hands.

“If you would, could you bring that to the Student Council office? Yet another club has asked for my help to act as their faculty adviser. I may have gone overboard.” His teacher laughed airily. “The Student Council office is on the opposite side of the building, so it’s rather out of the way. If it is alright with you….”

Keito had visited the Student Council office many times as 2-B’s class representative.  His take on the Student President and those around him were neutral, at worst. They completed their paperwork like hard-working students. They never used their authority on those lesser than them. Still, they had their issues. Allowing one teacher to act as the faculty adviser for more than one club was becoming one of their less thought-out plans of recent note.

Regardless, he had no sort of rank to tell them how to run anything in regards to the school. He was, and always had been, a simple class representative. If he wished to lecture anyone, he'd lecture his trouble-making classmates... Which only sometimes worked.

“Of course, Sensei,” Keito agreed. “The Student Council office is close to the main entrance. I’ll be sure to pass these papers on to them.”

“Ah, thank you, Hasumi-kun, thank you…”

Now on a mission, Keito nodded his goodbye to his teacher and exited the classroom. As the door closed, he caught the trembling growl emanating from the overhead clouds. The threat of a thunderstorm accompanying him on his way home grew.

He’d long received a message cancelling archery practice for the day. With nothing to do, heading home was his one choice.

The Student Council received the papers with little fanfare. Keito hadn’t even requested information on the formation of the new club. He allowed them to receive the folder and accepted their thanks for his errand boy behavior. Afterward, he continued to the school entrance at the end of the corridor, passing by the students crowding the halls.

As anticipated, the rain began to tumble down from above. Needle-thin raindrops coated the windows in layers. A few students anxiously glanced out the windows, umbrella-less and unfortunate.

Having to ride the bus home, Keito expected to be soaked to the bone even with his umbrella. It could protect a lot, but guarding him from a storm? Not possible.

Bag tucked under his arm, Keito flicked his umbrella open and exited into the oncoming thunderstorm.

Yumenosaki Private Academy was a prestigious school most known for its training of idols. While it contained several courses for prospective students to join, the classes separated into different buildings.

Having reached the main gates, Keito spied the H-shaped Idol Course building from under his umbrella. He squinted across the empty street in front of him, past the onslaught of gray rain and over the brick wall dividing their schools. Their sacred grounds were strict on security; even if they were from the same school, technically, Regular Course students like himself had little chance of ever stepping foot on their land outside of scheduled Lives.

The Idol Course held a special place in Yumenosaki Private Academy’s heart. For years they allowed young teenagers entry, those with hopes to enter into the entertainment industry running through the country. They drilled in the basic skills to grow popular in an industry known to change its tastes on a dime. The work seemed like a grueling--albeit rewarding--high school experience. If lucky, the results of a student’s hard work could land them a straight shot into becoming Japan’s next super idol.

‘Could’ being the keyword.

Becoming a national idol meant entering into a competitive fight. One couldn’t simply train and work hard enough to gain attention nowadays--especially not if they originated from Yumenosaki Private Academy, whose reputation had long since reached rock bottom... and somehow continued to fall further.

The unrelenting negative rumors and scathing gossip concerning recent graduates from such a formerly reputable academy were as unfortunate as they were sobering. Popularity could go to one’s head. He had considered entering the Idol Course before choosing its less strenuous option. Had he chosen differently, he’d be in the same standing as those who settled into their lowly, mud-drenched position in the entertainment industry’s eyes, wasting his talents away and demanding fruits of his ineffective labor like a child throwing a tantrum and begging for attention.

In the end, Keito had set himself on the opposite path, forgoing the expectation of fame and fortune. There wasn’t much else to say. His choice was the best one.

At least, it was the choice that bagged him the most dignity.

Keito gripped the handle of his umbrella and leaned into a faster pace. Distractions did nothing other than speed him down. Shoving the thoughts of Yumenosaki Academy from his mind, Keito concentrated on two things: the time until his bus arrived, and then the long ride home.

Stupid things such as idols did not matter anymore.

Keito had been right about one thing. 

The rain did its best to soak him, and almost succeeded, but his quick movements resulted in reaching the bus stop right as it pulled up. The drive was spent in a wet and humid box filled with students also returning home on their way back from school. Keito had done his best to ignore most of the talking floating around him. None of it concerned him and, frankly, it was not his business.

The bus ride was slow. Keito watched the scenery until he recognized his neighborhood. Tapping the button to request an exit, he hopped out of the vehicle once it pulled to a stop. Yanking his umbrella over his head, Keito continued to the stairs connected to the Hasumi temple.

The long walk up the temple stairs was easy. A strange thought as others found the trek exhausting, but he’d dealt with the pain since childhood. The real trial was traversing the stairs while they were slick with rain. If he didn’t stumble and send himself rolling back down to the streets, he could count himself blessed.

Luck was on his side as he reached the top without issue. As troublesome as the downpour was, he trudged through it with determination. Sometimes simple resolve was enough.

Home at last, Keito breathed a sigh of relief. Outside, where the chilly rain froze his fingers until they stung, the warmth of his home was a godsend. He flicked the lights on, noting the previous disuse meant his parents and brother were not home, and sat his drenched umbrella in the stand near the door.

The evening was spent doing his homework like a dutiful student. The thick windows of his room shook with each bang of thunder. Darkness covered the land outside, the sky draped in a sheet of gray and black clouds. While the torrent of rain and ear-wrenching thunder irritated him, he cast it out of mind and focused on the lines of English he had to memorize for tomorrow's class session.

His cell phone rang, shocking him more than the thunder did. The screen brightened and screeched one of the common ring-tone options available for his device.

Upon seeing the caller ID, he clicked the green button and waited for the quiet voice of his mother on the other end.

“Dear? The storm is bad tonight. It’s dangerous to drive, so we’ll stay with your aunt across town until it dies down. Your brother is staying with his friends until tomorrow. Make sure to have dinner, okay?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Click! She was gone. Ten minutes afterward, he finished his homework and slipped it back into his bag.

Keito checked the clock. 7 PM.

Good enough time as any to get started on dinner.

He descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, flicking the switch to cover the room in a bright light. Their kitchen was on the small side; a long table up against the wall, the fridge and counters off to the opposite side. Next to the stove was a single window giving a glimpse to the gloomy exterior.

His parents had gotten groceries recently. The fridge contained enough variety when he checked; meat, fish, vegetables. Enough options to create something fulfilling. It was early and he didn’t desire anything heavy to eat right now…

After a bit of consideration, he went for something easy. Ochazuke was quick and filling. They had leftover rice to get rid of, too.

Keito clicked the stove on. The front burner lit up orange as it warmed to a nice heat. He settled the tea kettle atop it. Once the water was ready, he’d have to steep the tea leaves. At most he’d be waiting for ten minutes.

As the kettle brought its water to a boil, Keito pulled a chair from the table over to the window. He leaned against the windowsill, listening to the storm rage. The rain pounded the ground like bullets. He’d escaped the worst of it on his way home. Even worse, the storm sounded like some sort of rampage, as if a feverish battle took place high above the clouds. When lightning sparked, the accompanying thunder resounded like the warhorn of a Viking; loud and striking, a call to everyone to heed danger.

Keito startled slightly, shaking to attention at the kettle’s whistle. He stood from his chair. Casting a final look at the gathering of storm clouds, he spotted a gold line of lightning zigzagging through the air as if squirreling itself away amidst the shadows.

A second later, there was a flash of searing light—and thunder as loud as a car explosion shook through his bones. The booming sounded like an earthquake and felt like one, too. Keito shot from the window, mind in a flurry. The blinding flash left him dizzy and the sudden bang sent his heart leaping to his throat. He stumbled over his feet as the lights shut off altogether and left him in deep darkness.

Off-kilter, one of his legs wrapped around the chair and he tripped in his mission to get away. A curse escaped his lips as the flesh of his palms met tough wood flooring.

Staring wide-eyed at the window, pulse running a mile a minute, Keito wondered, What was that?

A lightning strike, duh, he chastised once his mind was in some semblance of order. It was a thunderstorm after all. Still, to experience a strike right outside his home... So close to where he was…

Keito brought a hand to his forehead, ordering himself to relax. The first thing he’d noticed was his missing glasses. They must have slipped off when he collapsed. Hopefully he hadn’t sat on them in his scramble to distance himself from the window.

Regardless, the glasses didn’t matter. His hands trembled faintly. As seconds passed, Keito worked to control his breathing to calm his rabbiting heartbeat. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. Several prolonged seconds of each. Everything was fine. He was unharmed, save for a few scrapes on his hands from the fall. The temple was… probably fine as well. As old as it was, if the lightning strike hit it dead-on, Keito hoped parts of the exterior weren’t burned.

The real problem was the electricity. For how long he’d been sitting, the lights had yet to return. Did the lightning strike cause a power outage? For how long would it last?

Before he returned to his feet, Keito patted around for his spectacles. They were near his shoes and unbroken, thank goodness. Placing them in their rightful position, he recalled the chair he’d brought over to the window and used it to stand.

The tea kettle was silent. Their electric stove would be unavailable for a bit, he decided, and turned the dial until it was off. Dinner would have to wait.

Just in case, Keito tried the light switch again several times. Nothing, as expected. He hadn't gotten his hopes up.

Now what?

His cell was upstairs and charging, so at least he didn’t have to go search for a flashlight. Also, he could alert his family to the power outage if any calls went through. Traversing his home in darkness was not on his list of exciting things to do, but it was better than doing nothing.

Making his way to the main hall was rather straightforward. The temple was large and spacious, leaving nothing in his way to stumble over. Keito followed along the wall with his hand, remaining balanced as he felt tatami mats under his socks.

Shoji doors acted as the entrance to the temple. The wooden frames guarded against the heavy storm, shaking in place as rain struck against them. There was the slightest worry the paper would tear. He hoped it wouldn’t.

Completely opposite the entrance was the staircase leading to the upper floors. He dropped his hand from the wall and made his way over.

His fingers curled over the railing. Having a hold on something solid helped relax him somewhat. Careful, he started up the steps.

A flash of light shone from behind him in that instant. A hint of recognition went through his mind. Dread filled his chest in the split moment before the second crack of ear-splitting thunder arrived. His grip tightened on the railing as he crouched down, cringing from the ringing in his ears.

A second lightning strike in so many minutes. What sort of unluckiness…?

“Get upstairs,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. Slowly, his iron-tight grip on the railing loosened. “Waiting out the storm there is better there than down here. Just get upstairs.”

He could sleep through the storm. Dinner could wait until tomorrow. Anything was better than having to deal with this a third time.

Unable to help himself when he shoved back to his feet, Keito glanced behind him. Surprise had him descending the stairs, his gaze locked on the doors. One of them was ajar; rain slid in through the crack, creating small puddles on the tatami. He could have sworn it was locked… had the storm managed to break through?

Leaving without checking wasn't an option. If it broke then he’d have to find something to block it lest the moisture do harm to the main hall. As much as he wasn’t interested in dealing with the storm any longer, keeping the temple from having a problem was partly his duty.

It was a straight line to the entrance. His speed slowed as he closed in, eyeing what little he could of the drab exterior through the crack. A third lightning was unlikely to occur. Right?

The solid door handle felt comforting. He relaxed, tension dropping from his shoulders. The stress was getting to him. Once finished he could end his day early.

First, he needed to check the door. It slid back and forth without an issue, Keito was glad to note, and he couldn’t spot any tears. The shaking caused by the storm must have unlocked it on accident.

Keito could have sighed in relief. One less problem to deal with.

The rain pelted against his leg like an annoying pet. The spray chilled him to the bone. Wet spots appeared on his pants leg and soaked through to his skin. Scowling at the thought of having to change, he directed a glare from his leg to the thundering sky.

Then he stopped, all of his senses turning alert.

Gripping the door handle, Keito instantly forgot about his clothes. Squinting hard, he stared forward, trying to make something out. It was dark, not in the least helped by the thunderstorm and barrage of rain, but... it seemed as if something was standing in the center of the pathway leading up to the temple.

The closer he looked, the more sure he was. The thing standing there, was it a person…? They wore a dreadfully wet outfit. He believed it could be white when dried. It stood out among the desaturated color scheme of the stormy evening.

What were they doing wandering around in such awful weather? And why were they outside his home?

Nothing about this gave him good feelings.

He really hoped he wasn’t about to get robbed.

The figure moved—swayed, more like, with their back hunched as if weighed down. Tensing up so hard his shoulders hurt, Keito recoiled into his house, moments from slamming the door shut and racing to phone the police.

Instead of coming closer as he’d expected, the figure faltered and collapsed. They smacked the pavement and stayed there, immobile.

Then Keito remembered what had happened not too long ago. The second explosion of thunder, the second lightning strike. It struck right in front of his home, probably close to where the figure had been standing. If possible…?

Keito did not want to go outside. It could be a trick, or he could see a sight likely to traumatize him for most of his life. Too many things were possible.

However, if the person required help…

“Damn it,” Keito cursed. Sliding the door open fully, he stepped outside to test the waters. It was one thing to have his leg wet. It was another thing as a whole for the rain to fall like freezing needles onto the rest of his form. It took him a moment to move on but with a glance to the fallen person, he threw himself to the mercy of the storm.

His glasses blurred instantaneously. Droplets ruined his vision, mixing gray against gray. His casual clothes didn’t stand a chance trying to protect him. Keito raced forward until he made out the drenched white outfit lying on the ground.

“Are you okay?” was his first question. The stranger didn’t respond, either unconscious or unable to hear over the roar of the rain. “Can you hear me? Oi!”

Grimacing, he ran his fingers through his hair, keeping it from flopping wetly into his eyesight. No response so far. If they weren’t answering, it was possible…

He’d have to check.

Clutching the stranger’s shoulders, Keito rolled them onto their back. A rich dark blue hood covered their face. He scanned for some sort of injury; a burning smell, or a charred part of the body. A thick smell resembling burnt plastic was heady and cloying around them, so much that he wanted to choke. There wasn’t an obvious injury on the person despite the pervasive burning scent. At noticing nothing external, he went for the final check. Holding his fingers against their neck and wrist, he waited in a dreading silence.

A light pulse beat against his fingers. A weight seemed to disappear off his shoulders. Keito exhaled deeply. They were alive!

They were around the same height as him, Keito judged, and close to the same weight. Tugging the body closer, he fought to raise them up into his arms. He’d never been the physical type outside of athletic courses and archery club. Lifting someone up was much more strenuous than tugging a bowstring.

In the end, he heaved them up until he could wrap one of their arms over his shoulders. Quickly, he dragged his way back to the main hall of his home, unconscious stranger in tow.

Out of the pouring rain, he dropped the stranger onto the tatami mats and shut the door. It was much darker inside than out, the natural light snuffed out by his home’s walls. Keito couldn't see an inch from his face even as he waved his hands around.

Sighing, he wrung the water out of his hair and clothes. Then he turned to his ‘guest'. They made no movement whatsoever. Their pulse was light but firmly kicking when he checked again. Leaning over, he pressed his head onto their chest and listened. Same as their pulse; a thumping heartbeat pounded against his ear.

Signs of their health acted as a balm to his worry. Nodding to himself, Keito stood. Right now, he needed his cell phone more than ever.

Keito climbed the stairs to his room.

His cell phone was where he’d left it, on his desk under a lamp. He’d left it on the charger while he went to start dinner. Unplugging it—of course during the outage the plug had died—the screen lit up, searing his eyes with its glare. Blinking the pain away, he checked its charge: 40%.

As he’d hoped would prove false, the service was off, too. He thumbed the call button and his family’s contacts as a ditch effort. He dialed several calls, waiting for tense, agonizingly slow seconds as each call did their damnedest to connect.

With a sinking heart, Keito heard them all drop. No doubt due to the raging storm.

Great. Great.

No cell phone service and no possible way to call for help. At most, he’d have to wait until tomorrow morning for everything to switch on again. Keito was fine, he could live, but the stranger…

Cursing under his breath, he left his room and returned to the main hall. The cell phone’s flashlight illuminated the way.

Now with some light, he scanned the stranger again. Their outfit was.... odd, to say the least. A pure white robe like a hospital gown down to their feet. The hood covering their face was as deep as the sea. Flicks of blond hair plastered against their skin from the rain. They breathed regularly, no hiccups or signs of pain.

They were going to be fine. Maybe.

Settling down beside them, Keito leaned against the wall. All of a sudden he felt exhausted. The adrenaline from the past who-knew-how-long (his phone read 7:42, how could that all have happened within one hour?!) evaporated and left him drained of energy. The lightning strikes, the stranger. Couldn’t this have happened during another time? Why now?

He sat there, awaiting something as he kept a watchful eye on the figure resting on his floor. A third lightning strike, if it liked his house so much. Another person to pass out before his house, too. It seemed like anything could happen today.

Despite the clattering of the rain against the temple walls, the noise made a repetitive and peaceful backdrop among the overwhelming silence. Nestled up against his knees, Keito let the time pass idly.

His eyes drooped as he fought to stay awake. He dropped his glasses onto the floor to rub at the bridge of his nose. This was bad. He had to stay awake to ensure nothing went wrong. If the stranger stopped breathing or woke up, he’d have to do something. Falling asleep was dangerous and… he…

He needed a break.

Just… ten minutes. Then he’d be energized and prepared for anything.

Eyes sliding closed, he promised he’d up in ten minutes. No time at all. He wouldn’t miss a thing.

Like that, Keito fell into a deep sleep.

The night passed and, at last, the storm cleared.

Keito woke gradually, his thoughts as slow as molasses. 

The first thing he noticed was that he was lying on his side, clearly not on his soft mattress. He shoved up on his palms and gazed around, eyes blurry. Where were his glasses? And why was he downstairs in the main hall…?

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts. He’d been doing something last night, but what? His head felt cluttered with clumps of cotton.

Sunlight streamed through the shoji doors. It was morning. Cheerful birdsong filled the air. He recalled a thunderstorm last night. His mother had said everyone would return in the morning after the storm had calmed.

Were they here?

If they were, they would have woken him up the moment they saw him sleeping at the entrance.

Speaking of the entrance—one of the shoji doors was wide open. The storm seemed to have stopped during the night. After the racket it had made for hours, the pleasant morning was more than a welcome gift.

… The calm morning was welcome, yes, but that didn’t mean he wanted the door to his home wide open.

Locating his glasses on the floor, Keito stood and went to slide the door shut.

Keito expected several things when he reached the door. Not one of his expectations involved looking outside, squinting against the sun’s glare, and noticing someone standing on his porch with a set of pure white wings fluttering softly on their back.

He was pretty sure he was still dreaming.

“Er,” he said, awe-struck.

The person twitched at his voice. Turning around, the wings followed their twirl and escaped from sight as a face came into view.

They were a boy, apparently, dressed in an eccentric white robe to his ankles. A long blue shawl with gold trim settled on his head and flowed down his back. Blond hair peeked from underneath it and, as he turned around, the boy’s curious blue eyes focused right on him. Circular gold earrings hung from his lobes.

Although the wings and strange costume bewildered him, it didn’t stop the final piece of the puzzle from connecting in his mind.

“You!” Keito exclaimed.

The boy’s head tilted. “Me?”

“Yes, you! The stranger in the storm!” Exiting his home, he stomped up to the person he had helped last night. His gaze caught on the wings again and Keito faltered upon opening his mouth. “Ah…”

“Oh, yes. The storm.” Keito startled as the boy clasped their hands together, his expression oddly amused. “I can’t remember much from last night, but I take it you helped me? You must be a kind human. Or perhaps I was simply lucky enough to fall in front of a temple..? Your sort are much more helpful.”

Part of Keito’s mind had yet to get over the boy calling him human. Unnerving, much?

“I was unlucky enough for a stray bolt to strike me,” the boy continued. A soft smile took over his features. “It worked out well enough, I suppose. Nothing to be fretful over.”

“Hey.” Keito fought to make his mouth move.

“Yes?”

The wings were fake. Humans didn’t have wings. And even if Keito hadn’t noticed them last night, that didn’t mean anything. He'd been running on adrenaline and too busy to think about little details... even though the wings were quite large.

“Your… wings? What—?”

“Ah! Pardon me.” Cutting him off, the boy stepped away. The wings Keito was seconds from commenting on—how did he get his cosplay to look so lifelike?—rose up on his back. If he thought the wings were large while they were resting, the kid proved him incorrect when they moved. The wings outstretched along the porch, spanning several feet in width. Feathers clung to them as real as any feather he’d seen on birds prepping for flight.

“Mmm,” the boy hummed. “The rain had been a nuisance. Now that it’s over, I can finally stretch… And what were you saying, human? Something about my wings?”

Keito was hallucinating. “Um.”

“Um?” The… human? repeated.

His mind and everything he knew about the world in turmoil, Keito asked the easiest question he could think of. “... What’s your name…?”

The boy’s name was Eichi. 

Also, Eichi was an angel. He’d happily provided that information.

Keito didn’t believe him, as any intelligent person wouldn’t believe anything so foolish. But the wings.

He had yet to figure out the wings.

The tea kettle whistled out steam from its place on the stove. Electricity had returned some time during the night. He’d checked his phone when he re-entered to find his battery dead after leaving the flashlight on for hours after his impromptu deep sleep. He’d charge it later. Maybe.

To no one's shock, Keito wasn't in the mood for thinking.

“Where is this?” Eichi asked, sitting at the table like he belonged there. His wings fluttered against the back of his chair.

“Japan,” Keito answered. Weren't they both speaking Japanese? How did he not know that?

Taking out two cups on autopilot, he passed one over to the… angel. Or whatever he called himself.

“Japan… And what is this?” He tapped the side of the cup.

“Tea cup. For tea.”

“Tea?”

He poured the hot liquid into both of their cups. “Tea.”

Eichi peered quizzically at the rising steam.

Paying little attention to him, Keito slid into his own chair and sipped at his tea. The liquid burned his tongue, fresh from the heat, but Keito desperately needed something to take his mind off of what was right in front of him.

Cupping the teacup, Eichi asked, “What is your name, human?”

Please stop calling me human, he wanted to say.

“Hasumi. Keito,” he added.

“Keito, then.” Eichi smiled. Keito frowned at the use of his first name. “Hey, Keito? Do you live here alone?”

“My parents are out. My brother, as well.”

Should he tell a stranger that? Did it matter at this point?

“A family! Angels are not born from other angels. Childbearing and the like is alien to us. Oh, but we do not reproduce asexually. In fact, we—"

Keito stared ahead, unblinking, until Eichi’s voice turned to white noise.

How long was he going to stay here? Human or… angel, or otherwise, it was common courtesy to leave as soon as possible after waking up at someone’s home, right? Not follow them into their kitchen and drink their tea?

“—things like this make humans so interesting." Eichi concluded whatever it was he was monologuing about. After a moment of considering the teacup again, he raised it to his mouth and swallowed.

His blue eyes lit up. “Oh! How delicious, Keito!”

“Thank you.”

“We don’t need to eat or drink. We survive quite well without sustenance. Still, to think there are even things humans can make that are appealing to us. What can’t you do?”

Tell you to leave.

Keito stood from his seat. “Excuse me.”

He left the kitchen before Eichi could call him back.

He needed air. Space.

He needed to be anywhere that didn’t have Eichi in it.

Morning sunlight shone through his window panes. Settled onto his bed, Keito leaned against the wall and blankly watched the ceiling.

Allowing Eichi, a complete unknown, access to his house while he went to hide in his room was not the best decision.

But it would have to do. As silly as outright avoiding the elephant in the room felt, Keito believed he had some sort of right in feeling nonplussed. Angels—or whatever Eichi was—mythological creatures did not exist. As common as they were in anime and manga, everyone knew they were fictitious. Nothing but tools to build interest in stories. They were supernatural beings no one had ever really seen!

Yet someone proclaiming to be one of them was downstairs. In his kitchen. Drinking the tea he had made.

“Damn it.” Exhaling a large, deep breath, he attempted to drive the stress knot out of his forehead. “This is hopeless. Go down there and order him to leave. Grow a spine, Hasumi.”

Try as he might to insult himself into action, it wasn’t working.

A series of pings interrupted his inner admonishments. Recognizing the tone as his message alerts, Keito pushed off the bed and over to his desk. He’d placed his phone back on the charger when he entered his room. His phone had charged enough to turn back on and could now give him the messages he’d been expecting.

Several from his mother and father commenting about the weather some time during the night. One from his brother, which was a surprise in itself. All he had to say was ‘b back @ 10. Don’t hve key. Keep door unlocked when u leave’

Well, it was almost 9:30. His brother would be back not long from now, riding in on his motorbike. Keito didn’t want to think about what he would say if he noticed Eichi.

Something felt… odd about that message, actually. Keito considered his phone more. Scrutinizing the screen, he reread his brother’s text over again.

10 o'clock… When he left…? Where would he go so early on a Thursday?

Wait.

Almost 9:30 on a school day…?

His heart almost stopped.

“I’m late?!”

H-He’d never been late to school! Ever!

Damn it! This was all Eichi’s fault!

Dashing out of his room, Keito sped through his morning routine. He barely remembered entering the bathroom and preparing for the school day, or of yanking his uniform on in an agitated daze. Clambering down the stairs in a way that would have infuriated his mother, he yanked his shoes on at the final step.

“Keito?” Ugh, the angel. Or whatever he was. Eichi watched him from the kitchen threshold, head tilted in confusion.  “You’re dressed different. Going somewhere?”

“School,” he bit out. His tie sat loose around his neck. When did the next bus arrive? Had he missed the closest one?

Eichi repeated the word as though he’d never heard it before. “School... The place where young humans group together and learn, yes? So you’re headed there. Then, I’ll follow along.”

“What?” he asked, aghast, then: “No! Stay here!” Wait, wait, no— “I mean, why are you following me?! You aren’t a student. When I get back, you better have your act together!”

Like a petulant child, Eichi pouted. “That’s no fun. This is the first I’ve stuck around a human for this long. Why shouldn’t I make the most of it?”

Damn it, he didn’t have the time nor motivation to deal with him.

“Just—don’t follow! Finish your business and leave!” Shoes on, he gripped his school bag and hurried toward the door. A little after 9:45; the bus should come in fifteen minutes if he was lucky.

“Hey, Keito?”

Wrenching his head to the side with a glare, he snapped: “What?”

Waving a pale hand, Eichi the angel (or whatever he called himself) smiled calmly at him. “Have fun at school. Thank you for the tea.”

… Whatever.

Grunting a dismissal, Keito sprinted out of his home and down the harrowing stairs leading toward the street.

Keito spent most of the school day in a stupor. 

He, Hasumi Keito, had received a tardy slip for the first time in his life. All thanks to that! damn! angel! Or whatever Eichi was!

The teacher had been understanding enough; he knew Keito’s ethics, how much punctuality and rule-abiding meant to him. He assumed that something must have caused trouble for his student on his way to school. Not that the understanding mattered much—by the time Keito reached the school building, the gates were closed and he’d needed the guard to let him in. As excellent as a student he was, such lateness required a punishment and a write-up slip was his.

At least it wasn’t detention, Keito considered glumly.

The screeching school bell signaled the end of the day. Matching his classmates, he slid out from his desk and collected his notebooks into his bag.  

Someone knocked into his desk, forcing his umbrella to topple onto the ground. Deja vu was too light a term when he remembered the same situation occurring a day prior.

Who would it be if not for Takada Satoshi?

“Sorry, class president!” Takada’s palms slapped together in apology and he ducked his head to his chest. “Second time in two days! Don’t be mad, please?”

“Stop running in class and this would cease to be a repeating incident, Takada,” Keito scolded. “It’s impolite to repeat the same mistake after you've received correction. It shows how unwilling you are to change your habits.”

“Ahhh, don’t be mad! I get it, I'm sorry!” Takada broke out into a whine. “I won’t do it again, I promise! No more lecturing, I have club to get to!”

“Your club is not a valid excuse to avoid punishment,” he said, scooting his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “But, fine. Go on. Keep my words in mind.”

Takada saluted. “Thanks, prez! Catch you tomorrow!”

He didn’t wait for a response, hightailing it out of the classroom like the devil was on his heels.

Was his club activities so important that he couldn’t end a conversation like a proper human being?

Ugh, now he was focusing on the 'human' aspect.

Keito knelt to grab his umbrella. Raising it by the handle, he spotted a slip of paper underneath it. Nothing had been under him last he’d known…

Examining it, the slip of paper turned out to be a ticket to an upcoming live show somewhere in the area. Definitely not his, as he paid little attention to the idol business. So whose…?

Takada's? Had he dropped it when he ran into Keito’s desk?

See? Look what happened when he didn’t pay attention!

Bag in hand, Keito hurried out the classroom to catch sight of Takada before he vanished. No such luck; students filled the corridor, but none resembled the boy he searched for.

Which club was Takada involved in again? It would be better to return the lost ticket ASAP, but he couldn’t call to mind the specific club or room in question.

Well… Takada did say to see him tomorrow, Keito concluded with a frown. He’d return it to him then. Hopefully Takada wouldn’t spend the rest of the day panicked over his missing item.

Apprehension filling his chest, Keito followed the wave of students in the Go-Home club. Again, the archery club members had received a message proclaiming a cancelled session. He should have a talk with the club president if these irresponsible and unnecessary cancellations became a habit.

The ride to the temple passed in a blur. Hopping off the bus, he traversed the stairs without much thought.

Sliding the shoji doors open wide, Keito called out, “I’m home!”

His brother’s motorbike was latched onto the side of the house and his parents’ car sat parked in their driveway. Keito expected an immediate response, knowing they were around, but at hearing nothing his mouth pulled into a frown.

“Mom? Dad?” Padding further into the main hall, he caught the soft tones of voices around the kitchen. So they were home, after all. Why the quiet treatment?

To tell the truth, Keito had been waiting to reach his home again. Everything about last night had been wild from start to finish. The rampant storm, his saving of an (dare he say it) angel. Excluding the bit about an angel was smart, however. The lightning strikes would pull in further questions in itself. He knew his parents well enough that upon mentioning meeting an angel during the night, they'd drag him into a conversation about how hard he'd hit his head.

Better to stick with the simple stuff.

Passing through the main hall and into the kitchen, he repeated, “I’m ho—waaugh?!”

The startled cry he released brought attention to himself. In front of the oven and messing with the tea kettle, his mother furrowed her brows. “Keito? What is it?”

His throat felt choked up with the sudden emotions running through him. Unable to answer, he pointed an accusing finger at the blond boy sitting prim and proper in a chair as if he belonged there.

At his appearance, Eichi ceased drinking from his tea cup and smiled. “Good afternoon, Keito. How was school?”

Keito’s face twisted. “W—You—!”

How was he still here? Why was he still here? Keito had--in no uncertain terms--told him to leave! Hadn’t he? Hadn’t he???

“Keito, dear,” his mother started, and he knew that tone, the one where he’d done something wrong. “If you were going to keep a friend over for the night, you should have told us beforehand, don’t you think?”

… What.

“What?”

“Pardon?” was his mother’s terse reply.

Shit. “I mean, I… have something to ask my friend. Eichi. Get over here.”

Blowing on the steaming liquid in his cup, Eichi said, “I’ve yet to finish my tea. Could it wait?”

“No.” Striding forward, he gripped Eichi by his clothes and hauled him out of the kitchen.

Dragging him upstairs to his bedroom was the best call, especially if he wanted privacy. Utterly disregarding Eichi’s comments about the rough handling, Keito shoved him inside the room and slammed the door shut once both had entered.

“Keito!” His mother exclaimed when he went to tear into the creature. “Do not slam doors in this house, young man!”

Was everything intent on ruining his life today?

He shot a sharp glare to the smiling angel passing glances around his bedroom. “Eichi,” Keito hissed, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?”

Eichi’s naive attitude could have seemed honest if he were speaking to anyone other than Keito. His clueless act was worthless when he, out of everyone else in the temple, knew the bastard’s real nature.

“I told you to leave, not stick around and meet my family!” He had to keep his voice low in case the others heard him. Hushed yelling did not share the same satisfaction as actual yelling, but it worked well enough. “What did you tell them? What did you do?”

“What makes you so sure I did something?”

His hand shot out, fingers splayed toward Eichi’s form as if saying ‘look at yourself!’ “You had to have! You may look human on the outside, but you’re an angel! Or whatever! You aren’t able to hide your… wings…?”

Eichi’s wings. He knew he'd seen them before leaving for school. Yet as he quieted down and examined him, he couldn’t locate hide nor hair (or feather?) of them.

Gobsmacked, Keito stared. “Your wings. Where...? Where did you put them?”

“Ah, those?” Rolling his shoulders, Eichi created distance between them. “If you wanted a show, a bigger room would have been preferable. Wait a moment.”

The fluffy wings he’d kept in his mind’s eye slowly unfurled from Eichi’s back with a sound like cloth ripping and tearing from strain. They stretched upward and outward, almost reaching his ceiling. Their tips scraped the walls. As normal as Eichi appeared without them, the moment his wings revealed themselves, the angel’s slight presence rose monumentally.

Despite having seen them before, Keito couldn’t help his stunned expression. The ability to show his wings at will… Humans were unable to do such things. He held pride in staying skeptical, searching for logical and rational solutions. Yet in times like these, there was only one real, impossible answer.

“An actual angel.” His world flip-flopped in the span of a few hours. He needed to sit down.

Awkwardly, he eyed the wings separating him from his bed. With an innate desire to not touch them at any point, Keito pulled out the chair to his study desk and collapsed onto it.

“You seem stressed, human,” Eichi noted. At no point did he seem interested in rescinding his wingspan. Keito almost felt threatened. “I'm sure I told you of my nature before you left for school. Do you have bad hearing? A terrible memory?”

He wasn’t in the mood for this. “Call me by my name,” he growled, glaring daggers, “not ‘human’. What—what do you want? Why are you here? Are… wait. Are you wearing my clothes?”

Eichi was wearing different clothes. Too caught up in keeping him from his family, Keito hadn’t noticed until now that he’d changed out of his strange robe. Now he wore a white button-up shirt and dark slacks, two clothing articles Keito clearly recalled wearing at some point in his life with accuracy. The single accessory he kept after the change was the earrings.

Wait. The ripping noise... did he tear his clothes??

His tone was incredulous. “You went through my wardrobe?”

“I noticed we were similar in height and build.” Eichi glanced at his outfit, fingers rising to toy with the buttons. “You said to ‘get my act together,’ so I took action and tried to resemble a typical human. Not hard when all I have to do is cover my wings. When your brother arrived, I told him I was a friend of yours who stayed the night to ride out the storm. I used the tea cups to show I wasn't lying. That was the end of the questions, though they're no doubt curious about why I haven't left yet.”

“We aren’t friends.”

Eichi’s expression looked surprised. “We aren’t? But we get along so well.”

Yeah, right.

“You never answered my question. What do you want?”

For a first, Eichi didn’t respond in a timely manner. His wings crumbled, decreasing in size until they sat small and comfy on his back.

"You wish for the truth?" he asked a little later.

Worrying. "Would I have asked if I didn't?"

"I see. Then, pardon me."

Eyes narrowed into slits, Eichi sat on his bed and spoke.

“... I’ve always had an interest in humans,” he started, words coming out slow and thoughtful. “For being so inferior to us, humans are such fascinating creatures. Every last one has an interesting life to lead. Dreams to make into reality. You live and die so passionately, catering to your own needs. For your own selfish reasons, humans commit sins, stuck in a revolving cycle of guilt and joy. Those contradictory behaviors are a testimony to humanity; good or bad, black or white. Hints of gray in-between. As long as one has a justifiable cause, it does not matter if one commits murder. Over time, humans have made their own rules to live by.

"As permitted by God, angels must observe. We watch as humans build themselves up only to tear themselves down. We’ve watched for centuries as humanity made the same mistakes. To most of us, you lot are nothing but fools seeking your inevitable demise. Truly one of God’s most foolish creations.”

“So, what?” Scowling at him, Keito leaned forward in his seat. He refused to get into the whole God subject. “You’re here to watch over us? You can do that anywhere else.”

“I could. And I have been for the longest time,” Eichi agreed. “But watching has grown old. I want to see more. I would have stayed above the clouds, observing from above, if not for the storm. If not for you, too.”

At his inquisitive silence, Eichi moved on. A smile tugged at his mouth. “The storm caught me off guard. When the bolt struck me, I fell in front of your temple. Selfishness is a trait of humanity; if anyone encountered me, I believed they would leave me to the rain. But when I regained consciousness, I was out of the storm and you were there, watching over me in your sleep. You saved me.”

“Don’t make it more than it is.” Despite his words, Keito's gaze dropped to the floor at the comment. “In such a rowdy storm, anything could have gone wrong. I saw someone in need and helped them. Anyone would do the same.”

“You’re wrong. Humans are greedy and egoistical. They refuse to do anything if there is no chance of reward. Deep down, they care only for themselves. But you were different. You cared.” His form brightened up at the nonsense he spouted, or perhaps that was the sunlight illuminating him in a layer of radiance. His grateful smile was as brilliant as the sun.

“You’re a hidden gem among this world of frauds, Keito. That’s why I’ve chosen you. If one of you can spare a thought for another, then others must exist. That is what I want, ultimately; to know more about humans. To know how different you all can be from how we imagine you. Nothing more than that.”

A desire to understand humanity…? Such a lofty goal did sound like an objective only a non-human would find compelling.

“How incorrigible. Angels must live in boredom if they consider us as a fun pastime.” Thumbing his glasses provided some relief against the embarrassed heat fading from his face. “Fine. You want to interact with us. Why are you still here, then? There are better options to meeting humans that don’t involve staying inside my home all day.”

“Fufu, don’t be too sure. I’ve already met the rest of your family. It shouldn’t be too difficult to wander out one of these days and encounter others. It’s a matter of time.” Eichi shrugged. “Also, I need a base of sorts. Your home works well enough. It is rather beautiful, and it emits such a powerful aura.”

Alarms blared like sirens in his head. “You aren’t staying here.”

“I am,” he said in a tone that broke no argument. “Worry not, I’ll hide from the rest. Only you will know I’m here. I can be your little secret, Keito.”

“Don’t say that.”

The soft laughter that escaped Eichi soothed the tension somewhat. At least he was able to find humor in this mess.

There was too much information for Keito to comprehend, even as he was the one demanding answers. It wasn't possible for him to accept and understand it all within a day.

Where did he even begin?

“We aren’t finished with this conversation,” Keito warned. “There are multiple things you’ve yet to explain. What you were doing here in the first place, for instance. But that can wait until later. We will be speaking about this again.”

“Yes, yes. You’re so intent on the details, Keito. Humans should be more adaptable; you’ll be much happier that way.”

“I refuse to receive advice from someone like you.”

“So you can be rude when you want. For someone as stiff-looking and awkward as you, I expected an utter doormat. Good to know I judged wrong!”

“You…!” Gritting his teeth, Keito stabbed a finger toward the window. “Get out! You aren’t welcome!”

Of course, all Eichi did was chuckle and ignore the serious orders to leave his home. Part of him wondered if all angels were utter bastards, or if he’d somehow ended up with the worst of the lot.

Wait. No. Keito didn’t 'end up' with Eichi, as if he were a prize! The bastard was leaving! He wasn’t staying here! That damn angel was a nuisance he couldn’t wait to get rid of!

He’d kick him out one way or another, Keito swore. If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then eventually.

Keito would not let this random angel squeeze into his life and jumble everything up for the sake of his goal.

That was a promise he swore to keep.