Fly Away // Kis-My-Ft2
Fly Away
Kitayama
G, 1331 words, character study
Hiromitsu chases after fireflies and finds a sky lantern instead.
(A/N: awkward phrasing, very much un-edited :x)
Hiromitsu was used to the pinprick glow of fireflies in the evenings on the mountainside. He always went out after supper, weaving in and out of the shadowy grasp of tree branches and the high sweet tones of the cicadas' song, always chasing after the elusive lights dangling in front of his eyes. He never caught any-never really tried to-until a big one fell glimmering through the sky to extinguish itself at his feet.
A lantern, with delicate paper sides already torn by the foliage, and a candle set inside that had finally burnt itself out. There was enough light from the moon for Hiromitsu to be able to see that there was a design printed on one side of the lantern: likely a wish for peace and prosperity. But as he turned the lantern around slowly in his hands, he found that there was more writing on the inside of the rice paper, a handwritten wish. As if curious, a real firefly came to perch on the rim of the lantern. A moment later it flew in through the open bottom, drifting in a lazy spiral around the inside walls of the lantern as if it too wanted to read what was written there. By its light, Hiromitsu could make out a few words, future and hope and dream, but there wasn't enough light to properly read by. So he picked the lantern up carefully with both hands and carried it home with him.
"What have you got there, Hiromitsu?" his grandfather asked, looking up from his darning when Hiromitsu slid open the wooden door to the front room.
"Jii-chan, I caught a firefly." The smile was obvious in Hiromitsu's voice. "A big one that must've traveled a long way."
"A sky lantern! Then there must have been a festival in the city tonight."
"Yeah, must've been."
Leaving his grandfather to his socks, Hiromitsu went upstairs to his room, carefully maneuvering bulky shape of the lantern up the narrow staircase. He'd taken a good look at the lantern on his way back home, and had decided that it wasn't beyond repair. He was going to fix it and send it aloft again.
It was easy enough work for a boy who'd grown up using his hands, making his own toys. Hiromitsu first took apart the lantern, patiently pulling the paper sides away from the balsa wood frame. Then he carefully repaired all the rips and tears in the lantern, smushing a grain or two of leftover rice in between his fingertips to use as glue.
He'd been careful to keep the side with the handwriting faced down as he worked, considering it the most exciting part of his find and wanting to save the best for last. He'd tried to imagine what kind of wish it could be (for good health? for travel and adventure? for love, perhaps?) and what kind of person had written the wish and sent the lantern aloft. In his mind, he painted a picture of a fashionable young man with all the sophistication of the city in his posture, yet loneliness and vulnerability in his eyes. In his mind, he wrote a whole story as he worked to repair the lantern.
Now, finally done with the fragile work of fixing the rice paper, he gave a small sigh of satisfaction and flipped the paper over to look. He almost laughed out loud as the image he'd built up in his head crumbled. It wasn't the story of one boy after all, but of six.
Six boys who were obviously good friends, judging by the way the six very different handwritings overlapped and interrupted each other. What had clearly begun as six separate wishes-for the usual things like good fortune and good health-had quickly devolved as one person wrote over another's sentences and they all fell into the special language unique to their friendship. Through the written cacophony, he managed to find six names: Yokoo Wataru. Miyata Toshiya. Senga Kento. Tamamori Yuta. Nikaido Takashi. Fujigaya Taisuke.
At one end of the paper was a blank space. Hiromitsu contemplated it for only a moment before he grabbed his favorite calligraphy pen and added his name to the paper as well. There was a sense of satisfaction as he reattached the paper to the lantern frame.
That night, he dreamed that the sky lantern came to float outside his window. He dreamed that he followed the lantern and that it led him to the windows of six boys who lived in the city and belonged to the six signatures scrawled on the inside of his sky lantern.
~
The next evening Hiromitsu sent the lantern aloft again. His grandfather came out of the house and watched silently as he prepared it for flight. A new candle stub was fit into the holder and lit, and while Hiromitsu waited for the air inside to heat up inside lantern, he closed his eyes in a brief prayer for the lantern to float far away. The breeze was blowing towards the city tonight, and he wondered if it would be too far-fetched to hope that it might return to one of the boys who had penned one of the original wishes in the lantern.
"Hiromitsu-ya," his grandfather reminded him quietly, "Time to let go of it now."
With one deep breath, one heartfelt, wordless prayer that he felt in his heart, Hiromitsu let the lantern go. It floated up, at first so quickly that Hiromitsu gasped and almost reached out a hand to grab it back, then appearing to move slower as it drifted higher and higher.
He couldn't take his eyes off it. He watched as it got smaller and smaller, as it became first a small, translucent moon orbiting above his house; then a yellow gold coin someone had flipped into the air; then a softly glowing firefly flitting about in the summer evening. Then the light shattered into a thousand sparkling fragments, and it took a moment for Hiromitsu to realize that there were tears in his eyes.
Hiromitsu was acutely aware now of his grandfather next to him-the smell of his pipe, the slight wheeze of each breath he took-and wished, ignobly, that he would go away. He wished he could run, jump, fly after the lantern. He could feel his heart leap out of his throat, somehow making its way past the lump there, chasing after the flame, going towards the big city. But with his grandfather there, he couldn't. Instead, he stood stock still and blinked fiercely, pretending he wasn't crying, doing his best to ignore the itch of the few teardrops that leaked out of the corner of his eye.
A step and then the clatter of their door told Hiromitsu that his grandfather was going inside. For a moment, he considered scrambling down the long path that lead down from their house and following the lantern. If nothing else, he could find one of the many overhangs on the mountainside where he could see the lights of the city spread out below him, like a reflection of the stars above.
But he could hear the loud creak of the floorboards now as grandfather made his way slowly up the stairs to his bedroom, and Hiromitsu felt something deflate a little inside of himself. He couldn't see the lantern anymore anyway, already too far away to be discernible from the stars (or had it begun its descent already, to add its light to that of the city?), so Hiromitsu turned to go back inside.
Still, with his hand on the door, he couldn't resist looking back just once. Only the night sky-then he blinked and the lantern appeared in an explosion of light behind his eyelids, and with it the names and faces of the six boys he'd dreamed about last night. Hiromitsu smiled. One day, he promised himself, it would be his turn to find them.
Note(s): Prompted by this, but ultimately inspired by this Ray Bradbury article and Kitayama's own anecdote about living on a mountain when he was younger. I've always been intrigued by how much less innately urban he is than the other six (no matter how cool he thinks he is lol), so here's the what-if-he'd-never-moved-to-the-city fic. Sort of.
Kitayama
G, 1331 words, character study
Hiromitsu chases after fireflies and finds a sky lantern instead.
(A/N: awkward phrasing, very much un-edited :x)
Hiromitsu was used to the pinprick glow of fireflies in the evenings on the mountainside. He always went out after supper, weaving in and out of the shadowy grasp of tree branches and the high sweet tones of the cicadas' song, always chasing after the elusive lights dangling in front of his eyes. He never caught any-never really tried to-until a big one fell glimmering through the sky to extinguish itself at his feet.
A lantern, with delicate paper sides already torn by the foliage, and a candle set inside that had finally burnt itself out. There was enough light from the moon for Hiromitsu to be able to see that there was a design printed on one side of the lantern: likely a wish for peace and prosperity. But as he turned the lantern around slowly in his hands, he found that there was more writing on the inside of the rice paper, a handwritten wish. As if curious, a real firefly came to perch on the rim of the lantern. A moment later it flew in through the open bottom, drifting in a lazy spiral around the inside walls of the lantern as if it too wanted to read what was written there. By its light, Hiromitsu could make out a few words, future and hope and dream, but there wasn't enough light to properly read by. So he picked the lantern up carefully with both hands and carried it home with him.
"What have you got there, Hiromitsu?" his grandfather asked, looking up from his darning when Hiromitsu slid open the wooden door to the front room.
"Jii-chan, I caught a firefly." The smile was obvious in Hiromitsu's voice. "A big one that must've traveled a long way."
"A sky lantern! Then there must have been a festival in the city tonight."
"Yeah, must've been."
Leaving his grandfather to his socks, Hiromitsu went upstairs to his room, carefully maneuvering bulky shape of the lantern up the narrow staircase. He'd taken a good look at the lantern on his way back home, and had decided that it wasn't beyond repair. He was going to fix it and send it aloft again.
It was easy enough work for a boy who'd grown up using his hands, making his own toys. Hiromitsu first took apart the lantern, patiently pulling the paper sides away from the balsa wood frame. Then he carefully repaired all the rips and tears in the lantern, smushing a grain or two of leftover rice in between his fingertips to use as glue.
He'd been careful to keep the side with the handwriting faced down as he worked, considering it the most exciting part of his find and wanting to save the best for last. He'd tried to imagine what kind of wish it could be (for good health? for travel and adventure? for love, perhaps?) and what kind of person had written the wish and sent the lantern aloft. In his mind, he painted a picture of a fashionable young man with all the sophistication of the city in his posture, yet loneliness and vulnerability in his eyes. In his mind, he wrote a whole story as he worked to repair the lantern.
Now, finally done with the fragile work of fixing the rice paper, he gave a small sigh of satisfaction and flipped the paper over to look. He almost laughed out loud as the image he'd built up in his head crumbled. It wasn't the story of one boy after all, but of six.
Six boys who were obviously good friends, judging by the way the six very different handwritings overlapped and interrupted each other. What had clearly begun as six separate wishes-for the usual things like good fortune and good health-had quickly devolved as one person wrote over another's sentences and they all fell into the special language unique to their friendship. Through the written cacophony, he managed to find six names: Yokoo Wataru. Miyata Toshiya. Senga Kento. Tamamori Yuta. Nikaido Takashi. Fujigaya Taisuke.
At one end of the paper was a blank space. Hiromitsu contemplated it for only a moment before he grabbed his favorite calligraphy pen and added his name to the paper as well. There was a sense of satisfaction as he reattached the paper to the lantern frame.
That night, he dreamed that the sky lantern came to float outside his window. He dreamed that he followed the lantern and that it led him to the windows of six boys who lived in the city and belonged to the six signatures scrawled on the inside of his sky lantern.
~
The next evening Hiromitsu sent the lantern aloft again. His grandfather came out of the house and watched silently as he prepared it for flight. A new candle stub was fit into the holder and lit, and while Hiromitsu waited for the air inside to heat up inside lantern, he closed his eyes in a brief prayer for the lantern to float far away. The breeze was blowing towards the city tonight, and he wondered if it would be too far-fetched to hope that it might return to one of the boys who had penned one of the original wishes in the lantern.
"Hiromitsu-ya," his grandfather reminded him quietly, "Time to let go of it now."
With one deep breath, one heartfelt, wordless prayer that he felt in his heart, Hiromitsu let the lantern go. It floated up, at first so quickly that Hiromitsu gasped and almost reached out a hand to grab it back, then appearing to move slower as it drifted higher and higher.
He couldn't take his eyes off it. He watched as it got smaller and smaller, as it became first a small, translucent moon orbiting above his house; then a yellow gold coin someone had flipped into the air; then a softly glowing firefly flitting about in the summer evening. Then the light shattered into a thousand sparkling fragments, and it took a moment for Hiromitsu to realize that there were tears in his eyes.
Hiromitsu was acutely aware now of his grandfather next to him-the smell of his pipe, the slight wheeze of each breath he took-and wished, ignobly, that he would go away. He wished he could run, jump, fly after the lantern. He could feel his heart leap out of his throat, somehow making its way past the lump there, chasing after the flame, going towards the big city. But with his grandfather there, he couldn't. Instead, he stood stock still and blinked fiercely, pretending he wasn't crying, doing his best to ignore the itch of the few teardrops that leaked out of the corner of his eye.
A step and then the clatter of their door told Hiromitsu that his grandfather was going inside. For a moment, he considered scrambling down the long path that lead down from their house and following the lantern. If nothing else, he could find one of the many overhangs on the mountainside where he could see the lights of the city spread out below him, like a reflection of the stars above.
But he could hear the loud creak of the floorboards now as grandfather made his way slowly up the stairs to his bedroom, and Hiromitsu felt something deflate a little inside of himself. He couldn't see the lantern anymore anyway, already too far away to be discernible from the stars (or had it begun its descent already, to add its light to that of the city?), so Hiromitsu turned to go back inside.
Still, with his hand on the door, he couldn't resist looking back just once. Only the night sky-then he blinked and the lantern appeared in an explosion of light behind his eyelids, and with it the names and faces of the six boys he'd dreamed about last night. Hiromitsu smiled. One day, he promised himself, it would be his turn to find them.
Note(s): Prompted by this, but ultimately inspired by this Ray Bradbury article and Kitayama's own anecdote about living on a mountain when he was younger. I've always been intrigued by how much less innately urban he is than the other six (no matter how cool he thinks he is lol), so here's the what-if-he'd-never-moved-to-the-city fic. Sort of.