The twins nodded, and Kiyose lowered himself cautiously to his knees in order to examine the hole.
One of the twins called timidly out to him. "Um, Haiji..."
"What?"
"Who's that?"
The twins' line of sight narrowed in on Kakeru, who still stood idly in the doorway.
"Oh," Kiyose said, turning his head as if he had just remembered Kakeru was there. "Kakeru Kurahara. All of you are starting at Kansei as first years this spring. He's living here as of today."
Kakeru stepped into the room to stand by the low table and bowed his head.
"Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too," the twins replied in unison.
Direct: The twins nodded. Kiyose, cautiously crouching to his knees, examined the hole.
“Um, Haiji...”
One of the twins shyly called out to Haiji.
“What?”
“Who’s that?”
The twins’ line of sight concentrated on Kakeru, who stood idly and stock still in the door.
“Ah,” Kiyose said, turning his head as if to recall Kakeru. “Kakeru Kurahara. You all are the same. This spring you will be first years who will attend Kansei U. Starting today, he lives here.”
Kakeru stepped into the room and stood beside the chabudai and lightly bowed his head.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” the twins replied in unison.
"I told you to be careful. Which one of you did it?" Kiyose spoke coldly with his hand on his hip. The twins, who had shrank into a huddle, spoke simultaneously.
"Jouta did it!"
"It was Jouji!"
"That's dirty, bro, blaming me for your crime."
"You're the one who made the problem even bigger!"
"Only because I got stuck in the hole you made!"
Direct: “I told you to be careful. Which one of you punched the hole?” Kiyose put his hand on his hip and spoke coldly. The twins who had gone into a huddle spoke simultaneously.
“Big bro–!”
“Jouji–!”
“That’s dirty, big bro. Blaming me for your crime.”
Room 201 was the size of about 10 tatami mats. Two futons had been left out around the low table in the center of the room. There seemed to be two people living here. Around the unmade beds, various personal effects and books were messily scattered about.
But what attracted notice more than anything else were the room's residents. Two men with the exact same face stared entreatingly at Kakeru. They weren't just identical twins--they were incredibly identical twins. Kakeru felt like he was playing spot-the-difference.
Direct: Room 201 was the size of about ten tatami mats, and around the chabudai placed in the center, two futons had been left out. There seemed to be two residents of room 201. Around the futons, various personal effects and books were messily scattered about.
What attracted the eye more than anything else were the room’s residents. The entreating eyes of two men who had the exact same face were looking this way. They were incredibly identical twins. Kakeru compared the faces of the residents of 201 and had a feeling that he was playing find-the-difference.
At the top of the stairs, which ended abruptly in darkness, Kakeru assessed the situation on the second floor. The ceiling was higher than expected. There were two doors next to the stairs, leading to what must be a toilet and washroom, as well as doors to two other rooms. Down the hall that stretched opposite of the stairs, there were doors to three more rooms. Every room was still and silent except for 201. Light leaked from underneath the door.
Kiyose immediately went to room 201 and opened the door without knocking. Still following, Kakeru nervously peered into the room.
Direct: At the top of the stairs, which were dark and ended abruptly, Kakeru looked at the situation on the second floor. The ceiling was higher than expected. Next to the stairs were two doors to what must be a toilet room and washroom, as well as two rooms. In the hallway opposite from the stairs were three more rooms. Every room was still and silent, but only from inside the third room immediately in front, to the door of which a nameplate reading 201 was stuck, did light leak out.
Without hesitation, Kiyose approached room 201 and opened the door without knocking. From the doorway, Kakeru nervously peeked in.
"Up here! Up here!" the voice called out, and Kakeru and Kiyose looked up at the ceiling. There, above the entryway, for some reason or another, was a fist-sized hole. A face was pressed against it. Through the hole, their eyes peeked, sparkling with mischievous laughter.
"Joji," Kiyose said in a low voice. "How did that happen?"
"Someone stepped through the floor!"
"I'm coming up now."
Kiyose was angry, and therefore he walked noisily up the stairs. Even though he was lost, Kakeru followed after him. Every time Kakeru took a step, the stairs creaked violently, almost like they were an anti-theft measure.
Direct: “Here! Here!” the voice called out repeatedly, and Kakeru and Kiyose looked up at the ceiling. In the entryway ceiling, for some reason, a fist-sized hole was pierced. A face was pressed against it. From the hole, someone’s eyes peeped, and they sparkled with mischievous laughter.
“Jouji,” Kiyose said in a low voice. “What the heck is that hole?!
“We stepped through the floor.”
“I’m coming now, so wait.”
Kiyose was angry, and therefore walked noisily up the stairs. Kakeru was lost, but followed after Kiyose. Kakeru took a step, and as if the stairs were made with nightingale flooring, they creaked violently.
"Come on, let's go upstairs," he urged. Following orders, Kakeru put his own sneakers in the box labeled 103.
At that very moment, a voice rang out. "Haiji, welcome back!"
Kakeru looked around in surprise. There wasn't anyone here. Beside him, Kiyose also frowned in doubt.
Direct: Kiyose took off the orthopedic sandals he was wearing and urged Kakeru, “Come on, let’s go up.” Doing as he was told, Kakeru put his sneakers in the box with 103 written on it.
“Haiji, welcome back!” said a voice at that moment. Kakeru looked around in surprise. There wasn’t anyone here. Across from him, Kiyose also frowned in doubt.
Direct: There’s a bit of a trick, Kiyose said, while waiting to make sure he opened the poorly made sliding door.
Immediately upon entering, the floor became hard concrete, and nearby a covered shoe cupboard was installed. The cupboard looked like it fulfilled the duties of a mailbox, too. Slots arranged horizontally could be opened, and the room number that was scribbled onto paper with ballpoint pen was pasted there with cellophane tape. Every piece of paper had been burned by the sun and become brown. A cursory glance at the shoebox showed that there were four rooms on the first floor and five rooms on the second floor.
The stairs to the second floor were to the right of the genkan. It wasn’t necessary to go up them to see that they were warped. That this building still isn’t collapsing is truly strange, Kakeru thought.
Polished: "There's a bit of a trick to this," Kiyose said, waiting to make sure Kakeru could open the poorly made sliding door.
Upon entering, the floor became concrete and there was a shoe locker that had been installed in the entryway. It looked like the locker also doubled as a mailbox. Every door had a horizontal slot that could be opened, and a piece of paper with the room number had been taped to them. Each piece of paper had turned brown from the sun. A quick glance at the shoebox told Kakeru that there were four rooms on the first floor and five rooms on the second.
The stairs were to the right of the entryway. Kakeru didn't have to go up them to see how warped they were. It's truly a miracle that this building hasn't collapsed, he thought.
Direct: “In all there are nine rooms. Thanks to you coming, every room is filled now.”
While treading the gravel, Kiyose lead the way to the front of Chikusei Manor’s genkan. As for the genkan, there was a thin glass sliding door covered with latticework. In the long and narrow hood that mosquitoes were suspended in, the outside light flickered on and off. Relying on the sooty light, Kakeru somehow read the old wooden nameplate hanging across the genkan. There, in manly cursive text, “Aotake” seemed to have been written.
Kiyose, who carelessly parked the bike, carrying the two bath bins under his armpit, reached his hand toward the genkan’s sliding door.
“Let’s also introduce you to some of the residents. Everyone is a Kansei student.”
Polished: "There are nine rooms in all. Now that you're here, all of them are filled."
Kiyose lead the way to Chikusei Manor's front door. The door to the entryway was a sliding door made of thin glass and wooden latticework. The exterior light flickered on and off in its cover, which was full of dead mosquitos. Despite the dim light, Kakeru could somehow read the old wooden nameplate hanging across the entryway. Written there in manly calligraphy was, "Aotake."
Kiyose carelessly parked the bike and reached toward the door, bath bins stuck under his armpit.
"Let's get you introduced to some of the other residents. Everyone's a Kansei student."
Direct: Chikusei Manor was precisely halfway between campus and the Tsuru no Yu sento.
Coming out of the alleyway, you exit into an area in which newly constructed apartment buildings exist with longstanding fields. Chikusei Manor was built on one of the lots, surrounded by hedges. There was no gate, and it was possible to see the premises through gaps in the hedges.
There was a spacious front garden covered in gravel, and on the left side, there was the one-story house where the landlord likely lived. He wondered if these tiles have only now been replaced, as they reflected the starlight and the roof faintly sparkled. Built on the right, there was the question of Chikusei Manor.
Polished: Chikusei Manor was precisely halfway between campus and the Tsuru no Yu bathhouse.
From the alleyway, they exited into an area where newly built apartments coexisted with longstanding fields. Chikusei Manor was built on one of these lots, surrounded by hedges. There was no gate, and it was possible to see the property through the gaps in the hedges.
In front, there was a spacious front garden covered in gravel. On the left side was a one-story house where the landlord likely lived. The tiles looked like they might be new, as they reflected the light from the stars above, giving the roof a slight gleam. And then, standing on the right, there was the issue of Chikusei Manor itself.
Kiyose proudly looked at the building that was before them. Kakeru was only dumbfounded. This was the first time he had seen such an old wooden building that wasn’t a cultural property.
The cheap, wooden, two-story building seemed as though it would crumble to the ground before long. As for people living there, it seemed truly unbelievable. However, incredibly, soft light shone out from several of the windows.
Polished: The apartment was even older than he could have imagined.
"Haiji...is this it?"
"Indeed. This is Chikusei Manor. Though we called it Aotake.
Kiyose looked proudly at the building standing before them. Kakeru, meanwhile, was only dumbfounded. This was the first time he had seen a wooden structure that was so old but not designated a historic cultural property.
The cheap two-story building seemed like it would crumble to the ground at any moment. The fact that people lived there was truly unbelievable. However, soft light shone surely from several of the windows.
Obligatory note: Aotake（青竹）is the nickname because it's what you get if you switch the first two kanji of Chikusei (竹青）. I still have no idea how to translate this.
So excited to share the first chapter of a new fancomic from me and @mindiiw. You can read the first chapter for free through this link (and feel free to leave a comment on AO3)!
Kakeru Kurahara never thought running would prove useful in quite this way.
The soles of his shoes smacked the asphalt. As he savored the feeling, he howled with laughter.
His joints absorbed the impact of his feet on the pavement. The wind rushed in his ears. Beneath his skin, his blood was hot. Even without conscious thought, his heart was pumping blood and his lungs were taking in oxygen. His body was rapidly becoming light. He could keep running forever.
But wait–where was he running? For what?
Kakeru suddenly recalled why, exactly, he was running and slowed slightly. He strained his ears, trying to detect a presence behind him. He could no longer hear the angry voice or the sound of footsteps. In his left hand, a package of sweet bread rustled. As if to destroy the evidence, Kakeru, still running, ripped open the bag and devoured the bread. Once he finished eating, he worried for a moment what he would do with the package–but then he crammed it into his jacket pocket.
If he held onto the empty bag, it would be evidence that he stole something. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to just throw it away on the street. How ridiculous, Kakeru thought.
No matter what, without fail, Kakeru ran every day. Thanks to years of doing the same thing over and over, it was pure habit. In the same way, he could not bring himself to throw trash onto the street. After all, since he was a child he had been told littering was something you must not do.
If someone could manage to convince him of something, Kakeru would follow whatever they taught him to the letter. And when it came to standing by his convictions, he was his own harshest critic.
The sweet bread must have elevated his blood sugar, because Kakeru’s feet once again pounded the pavement at a steady pace. He could feel his pulse, and he became aware of his breathing. Even though his eyes were half closed, he still kept his gaze fixed just a little ahead of where he ran. All he could see were the toes of his sneakers striking out in front of him and the white line painted on the black asphalt.
Along this slender line, Kakeru ran.
While he couldn’t bring himself to litter, Kakeru did not feel guilty about stealing the bread. It had soothed his hunger pains, after all. He felt only satisfaction.
I’m like a wild animal, he thought.
In order to run fast and far, he trained every day and hammered into himself strength and good form. Getting hungry couldn’t be helped, so he stole the bread from the convenience store. He really was a beast. A beast that leaves clear indications of its presence, patrols its territory, and attacks when necessary.
Kakeru’s world was simple and brittle. Run. Consume energy in order to run. There was almost nothing more than that–only something that could not quite be put into words, something formless hazily drifting about.
As he ran down the dark road, Kakeru focused intently on the mental image that had plagued him over the last year. Bright red fury dyed his field of vision. There was a fist, brandished at full strength, that did not stop.
Maybe this is guilt, Kakeru thought. Maybe this scream is the sound of me rebuking myself.
When the thought became unbearable, Kakeru forced himself to look at his surroundings. Tree branches hung over the road and stretched up to the sky. Soon, spring would come, but right now, its soft green was still nowhere to be found. A twinkling star was caught in the branches. The empty bag in his pocket sounded like the crunch of dead leaves underfoot.
Kakeru suddenly felt a new presence, and his back tensed.
Was he being followed? Yes, almost certainly, someone was following him. Rusted metal creaked behind him. But even if he plugged his ears, his skin would still prickle in recognition of the presence. Kakeru had experienced this feeling many times at big events. The beat of another living soul shaking the earth. The sound of their breathing. The instant the smell on the wind changes.
It had been a long time since Kakeru had felt this kind of exhiliration, and his heart and body trembled.
However, this was not the unending oval of the track stadium. Kakeru abruptly turned the corner at an elementary school in order to duck into a back alley. He ran even faster. Like hell he’d be caught. He would absolutely show this person that he could shake them off.
The neighborhood’s streets were complicated and narrow, and it became hard to know whether they were public or private roads. There were also dead-end alleyways scattered throughout. If he could choose a clever path, Kakeru might not get cornered. He raced to escape beneath the windows of the elementary school, which were blanketed in darkness. As he sprinted, he gave a sidelong glance at the campus of the private university he would attend come spring.
He ran into a slightly bigger street and hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to turn toward Kanpachi Dori before deciding to go straight toward a residential area.
Kakeru managed to cross the street before the light changed. His footsteps echoed in the quiet neighborhood. Unfortunately, his pursuer also seemed familiar with the area, and the fact of their presence thickened.
Suddenly, Kakeru felt as though he was being pursued by something within himself, something terrible and unknown. And so, he ran desperately ahead.
But, like an idiot, he couldn’t help but cast a fleeting look over his shoulder.
His pursuer was a young man, and he was pedaling, of all things, a mom-bike, complete with baby carrier and basket. Kakeru couldn’t see his face well through the darkness, but he didn’t look like the convenience store clerk. Not only was this guy not wearing an apron—he had on something like an old man’s night coat and orthopedic sandals.
What the actual fuck?
Curiosity piqued, Kakeru reduced his speed. And even though it sounded like a rusty old water wheel, the bike pulled up smoothly beside him.
Kakeru stole a sidelong glance at the man. His hair was wet, and his face clean, as if he had just taken a bath. For some reason, though, there were two shower caddies in his bike basket. The man also kept glancing in Kakeru’s direction, specifically at his legs. This guy probably wasn’t some kind of pervert, but still. It was a little creepy.
The man was completely silent and, though still abreast of Kakeru, kept his distance. While trying to figure out who the heck this guy was, Kakeru maintained a steady pace and continued running. Did the convenience store clerk ask this guy to chase him? Or was he a totally unrelated passerby? Just as Kakeru’s anxiety and frustration were threatening to burst, a voice like the quiet roar of a distant ocean reached his ears.
“Do you like running?”
Kakeru froze in the middle of the street, as if petrified. His pulse pounded in his ears. The bike came to a screeching halt, and Kakeru slowly turned to face it. Still sitting astride the bike, the young man was looking at Kakeru, motionless. Only now did Kakeru realize that it was he who had uttered the question.
“Don’t stop so suddenly. I could’ve crashed.”
Having said that, the man once again began to slowly pedal the bike. Why do I feel like I have to follow a complete stranger? Kakeru thought, but his legs were already tailing the man, as if maneuvered by something invisible.
Looking at the back of the man’s jacket, a feeling that was not quite anger and not quite irritation welled up in Kakeru. It had been a long time since someone had asked him about running.
Most people found it easy to say that they liked something, like a favorite dish that’s unexpectedly brought to the table. Or, they could easily identify what they hated–such as taking out the trash. Kakeru was good at neither. There’s no way I can answer this question, Kakeru thought. Without thinking, he ran every day, even though there was nowhere in particular he wanted or needed to go. How could someone like that possibly say whether they liked or disliked running?
For Kakeru, the only kind of running that had been straightforwardly enjoyable was racing barefoot across the fields and hills of his childhood. After that, he was forever trapped on the track, racing against the clock, which ticked on and on, single-minded. And then, the explosion of that fateful day had smashed everything he had built to pieces.
The man slowed and, before long, stopped in front of a shuttered store. Since he had stopped running, by force of habit, Kakeru did some basic stretches to loosen his muscles. The man bought two bottles of cold tea from a vending machine, which emitted a blank light, and tossed one to Kakeru. The two men crouched side-by-side on the ground in front of the store. Kakeru felt the cold bottle suck up the heat of his body.
“You run well.”
Then, after a moment of silence, the man spoke again.
“Excuse me.”
Suddenly, the man reached out toward Kakeru’s calf. So this guy is a pervert. Fuck it. Feeling reckless, Kakeru let the man touch his legs. He was terribly thirsty, so he took a sip of tea.
The man examined him like a doctor trying to determine the existence or nonexistence of a tumor, perfunctorily assessing the muscle of Kakeru’s legs.
“Why did you shoplift?”
“Who are you?” Kakeru curtly retorted. He threw the bottle into the nearby trash can.
“I’m Kiyose Haiji. A senior in Kansei University’s literature department.”
That was the university Kakeru was about to start classes at. Without thinking, Kakeru obediently replied, “I’m…Kurahara Kakeru.”
Thanks to the top-down, military-grade structure of his school clubs, ever since middle school, Kakeru had always been weak-willed against his seniors.
“A good name. Hey, Kakeru–” The man who had introduced himself as Kiyose abruptly addressed Kakeru by his first name, like they were good friends. “–do you live around here?”
“Starting in April, I’ll also be going to Kansei.”
“Really!?”
Kakeru couldn’t help but shrink back from the crazed look in Kiyose’s eyes. Turns out, the man who chased him down by bike and felt up a complete stranger’s legs was insane.
“Well, I’ll be going now. Thanks for the tea.”
Right when Kakeru tried to stand, Kiyose immediately stopped him. He pulled at the hem of Kakeru’s shirt, trying to force him to crouch down like he was before.
“Department?”
“…sociology.”
“Why did you shoplift?”
The topic returned to its launchpad, and like an astronaut who could not escape the curse of Earth’s gravitational pull, Kakeru sank back to the ground, his head to his knees.
“Seriously, what do you want? Are you threatening me?”
“Not at all. I thought, since it seems like you’re in a bind, maybe I can help.”
Kakeru’s wariness deepened. Kiyose no doubt had an ulterior motive. If he was truly just trying to help out, he wouldn’t have brought it up.
“I can’t just ignore you. You’re my new classmate, after all. Do you have any money?”
“Well, not really…”
Kakeru hoped Kiyose would lend him money, but really, the only thing Kiyose had on him were two wash basins and some pocket change. Kiyose continued to ask him questions without offering any cash.
“What about an allowance?”
“The deposit money, the other money my parents sent…I blew it all in mahjong. There’s nothing I can do until they send my living expenses for next month to my account, so I’ve been sleeping outside at the university.”
“Sleeping outside.”
Kiyose leaned forward, still staring motionlessly at Kakeru’s legs, thinking about something. Feeling uncomfortable, Kakeru flexed his toes in his sneakers.
“That’s truly awful.”
Before long, Kiyose spoke earnestly. “If you’d like, I can refer you for a room in the house I live in. It’s called Chikusei Manor and it’s nearby. It’s a five minute walk from campus and the rent is just $300 a month.”
“$300?!”
Kakeru inadvertently raised his voice. Jesus. Surely, that extraordinarily cheap rent concealed some kind of secret. Maybe every night the closets overflowed with blood, or maybe, a ghost relentlessly roamed the halls. Kakeru shuddered.
As someone who inhabited a world of speed, which was easy to quantify with the use of instruments, and as someone who took joy in, day after day, painstakingly building up a body primed for running, ghosts and supernatural phenomena and anything else belonging to the realm of the unexplainable were not really Kakeru’s thing.
However, Kiyose seemed to mistake Kakeru’s voice as a lamentation that he was now penniless thanks to mahjong.
“It’s okay. If we ask the landlord, he’ll let you pay rent later. And he doesn’t require a security deposit or key money.”
Suddenly, Kiyose threw away his empty bottle, stood, and kicked up the bike’s kickstand. Kakeru, meanwhile, was having more and more doubts about the building in which this man of dubious character lived. However–
“Alright then, let’s get going. I’ll lead the way,” Kiyose urged. “Before that, though, we should go get your luggage. Where on campus were you sleeping?”
Behind the gym. Kakeru had made sure the spot was hidden behind the stairs and protected from wind and rain. As for luggage, Kakeru had only brought from home what could fit in a duffel bag. As long as he had the necessities, it would be better to have things sent from home later on. He had abruptly left home and arrived in Tokyo without a place to live. The night of the day he arrived, he went to the mahjong parlor and walked out penniless.
However, he did not feel anxiety or fear. Even though he had no acquaintances, passing the time by himself was not difficult. Rather, he felt a sense of liberation. Of course, he would prefer to find a place to live before the ceremony for new students, and he was getting fed up with jogging and shoplifting from convenience stores.
Looking at Kakeru, who stood meekly, Kiyose nodded, as if satisfied. He pushed the bike by the handlebars instead of getting back on, and the chain was loud. The pale light of the streetlamps illuminated the jacket Kiyose wore.
Strangely enough, despite the keen interest Kiyose had taken in Kakeru’s running, he did not ask whether Kakeru had track and field experience. Kiyose also did not tell Kakeru not to shoplift anymore. Kakeru resolutely called out to Kiyose, who was walking ahead of him.
“Why are you being so nice to me, Kiyose?”
Kiyose turned his head and, like someone who has found green budding up from the asphalt, his face broke into a smile.
“Please, just call me Haiji.”
Giving up, Kakeru walked until he was beside Kiyose, who was still pushing the bike. No matter how crappy the cheap room, or how eccentric the people who lived there, it would be better than sleeping outside.
Direct: Strangely, even though to the extent that Kiyose noticed Kakeru’s running, he did not come to ask, “Are you a person experienced with track and field events?”He also did not say, “Don’t shoplift anymore.” Kakeru resolutely called out to Kiyose, who was walking ahead of him.
“Kiyose, why are you being kind to me?”
Kiyose turned his head and, like a person who has found a green weed budding in the asphalt, silently broke into a smile.
“It’s okay to call me Haiji.”
Giving up, Kakeru came up next to Kiyose, who was pushing the bike. No matter what kind of cheap apartment it was, and no matter what kind of eccentric people there were, it was better than sleeping outside.
Polished: Strangely enough, despite the keen interest Kiyose had taken in Kakeru's running, he did not ask whether Kakeru had track and field experience. Kiyose also did not tell Kakeru not to shoplift anymore. Kakeru resolutely called out to K iyose, who was walking ahead of him.
"Why are you being so nice to me, Kiyose?"
Kiyose turned his head and, like someone who has found green budding up from the asphalt, his face broke into a smile.
"Just call me Haiji."
Giving up, Kakeru walked until he was beside Haiji, who was still pushing the bike. No matter how cheap the apartment, or how eccentric the people who lived there, it would be better than sleeping outside.
amandla
blakekathryn
izzy806
2087
ellievsbear
gracieabrams
jimmyeatworldofficial
dailybridgerton
prguitarman
