Quote:Content Prep: Attempted suicide, eating

They’re not people.

This city is full of humans who aren’t people.

The humans on this train.

The humans milling about the station.

The humans on the streets.

The humans in the schools.

The humans running the businesses, working every day of their lives.

Not a single one of them are people. That’s just how things are.

A woman’s voice plays over the intercom, announcing the train’s arrival at the station. Yuuya can see it well enough through the smudged window, though; humans distracted, humans preparing to make way for those exiting, humans ready to board. The book he’s reading goes up closer to his face. The door opens.

No one pays any attention to Yuuya, even as they shove into him in their rush to get out of the train. He curls away from them, and has a hard time avoiding flailing elbows and rushing feet. At least six people kick him in the heels. He’s going to get bruises. (He already has bruises.)

Yuuya squeezes past two opposing streams and clings to the nearest pillar. Everyone else is free to go in and out in a small swarm, without bothering him. It isn’t as if Nashioka is a city with a populace as grand as Tokyo; it’s just a really small train, and Nashioka covers a really, really big area.

Trains can be rather dangerous, though. Yuuya peeks over his book at the human current and lifts his cheap plastic glasses. Like a film being pulled away, his bare eyes observe the sudden appearance of dozens of green threads, all waving languidly through the air.

Yuuya’s gaze sharpens.

An unremarkable collection of Daily Greens. One thread is an eye-popping Love Pink. Two more of the same colour come into the station, along with a Thoughtful Yellow-Green. All of them are small, barely thicker than a hair.

He lets out a shaky sigh of relief. Today is safe.

Yuuya darts out of the station and into the fresh, open air where he’s infinitely less likely to be trampled on. He somehow manages to get shoved anyway, and he nearly falls onto the road. The traffic isn’t rushed enough to worry about it, so he just stands and looks up.

The buildings are towering here, higher than the part of town Yuuya is used to, where the largest building is the high school. The business sector has a cold feeling to it, completely deprived of character beyond the face value of ‘cityscape’, which is coincidentally just how Yuuya likes it. He doesn’t usually have much reason to come around here, but it’s a rare treat to spend time in a place so boring.

He’s a mere background character amongst crowd as he moves across the crosswalk, then the sidewalk. He merges in with the crowd, fluidly, despite needing absolute vigilance to avoid getting pushed and shoved by everyone around him. He sort of succeeds until someone steps on his heel and he’s sent flying into a woman, followed by a wall.

He breaks away from the crowd in front of the tallest, most expensive hotel in the city. It gleams with unnecessary golden opulence and the green tint of mirrors. Yuuya finds it appropriately tacky.

He pauses by the door, staring into space and becoming one with the scenery. Someone pulls up in a limo. A handsome blond man emerges; his figure is amazing and his suit is better, and he’s looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Yuuya flicks his glasses up. A thread appears, not reflected in the mirrors.

Love Pink. A braid of it the size of a pencil. Gross. Yuuya isn’t sure if he can call this bad luck or not.

The blond man approaches the doorman, and so Yuuya pulls away from the sidewalk and matches his pace, closing in right behind him.

The doorman doesn’t even look at him.

Once inside the doubly extravagant crimson-marble lobby, Yuuya splits off from the man he’s shadowing to make a beeline for the elevator. He enters the first one that opens, presses the button for the floor just under the penthouse, and positions himself where he can be seen upon approaching the elevator, but only in one’s peripheral vision, unless they actively make the effort to look at him.

They won’t.

Yuuya is joined by three Daily Greens. The elevator ride is quiet. The woman amongst them is frowning at her scroll tablet.

By the time the elevator hits his floor he’s alone again, and no one had acknowledged his existence.

He moves down the hall like he belongs there, idly examining the fancy wallpaper and carpets so smooth he wants to lie down on them. There’s no one else around.

He swings into the side staircase, which is still a bit glamorous, but only in the sense it’s not just grey cement. The walls are painted red, and there’s mats in front of the doors. Tasteful. It has nothing on the central stairwell, which is fully carpeted, but Yuuya can appreciate it.

The side staircases have access to an extra floor; the roof. The door is metal, as is reasonable. It’s also locked, which isn’t really a problem.

Yuuya takes out the key to the roof, slides it in, and smiles when the door swings open. That small triumph never gets old.

This high up, the air is thin and the wind is harsh, but the weather is excellent enough for Yuuya to ignore it. He just fishes a baseball cap from his convenience store bag and pulls it over his head.

The roof has a helicopter landing pad, as well as various mysterious tarp-covered objects that likely have to do with maintaining helicopters. He ignores the dubious equipment to flip over a bucket and use it as a stool to climb above the door. He takes his crappy convenience store food and crappy vending machine melon soda out of the plastic bag, sits down, and enjoys himself.

There seems to be some sort of event going on in the hotel, based on how the threads around him are clustering together. They all avoid colliding with him, forming a somewhat threatening cocoon of Daily Green, Drama Blue, and Love Pink around his position.

In two days, he’s going to be a high schooler.

In two days, he’s going to see the world like this.

Nashioka, hidden in a valley, and within that, broken up by the rising crests of the mountains around it. From a building this high, he can see more than just the buildings in the business sector; he can see the tallest buildings in the downtown area peeking over the lowest-set hills to the east, and the massive stretch of nothingness dotted with private housing to the west. Everything seems too stretched out, too widely spaced, too separated for a city that isn’t even close to the size of an urban metropolis.

This is a city where everything is broken up.

It’s a city where everything can happen at once.

It’s a the city Yuuya hates.

And it’s the city Yuuya will live for the rest of his life.

He shoves soggy fried chicken into his mouth.

This is a horrible broken city, sure, but there’s no view more beautiful than this. The summit of Mt. Fuji couldn’t compare. Yuuya is going to enjoy this view, if nothing else.

Then, as if offended that Yuuya could regard his mortal enemy with any sort of fondness, the city regurgitates a Drama Blue from the door.

The Narrative’s not even trying at this point. With the blue suit, centre-parted black hair, and glasses, the newcomer is just a cutout from a school textbook. This guy is a placeholder character amongst placeholder characters. Yuuya is insulted. He’s is sorely tempted to kick this guy’s ass just for having a shitty character design.

The textbook man falls to his knees dramatically, as people afflicted with Drama Blue threads tend to do. Yuuya stuffs a steamed vegetable in his mouth. It tastes like damp cardboard dipped in baby powder.

“Haa…haa…This is ridiculous…! This kind of thing…”

What kind of thing, huh? You can do it.

“Pretending I could make it in that world, how could I possibly…”

Ahh, there you go.

Yuuya eats some potatoes. They taste like mushed-up newspapers. Impressive. Western-style ‘affordable cuisine’ is seriously something else.

The man, still breathing heavily, sheds his coat and loosens his tie. If he’d just turn, he’d see Yuuya right there with his feet dangling over the doorway through his peripheral vision, but the Narrative doesn’t really believe in peripheral vision, so there’s no way something that convenient would happen.

Yuuya empties the rest of the worst potatoes ever inflicted on a meal meant for human consumption into his mouth and frowns at the veggies. His tolerance might not be high enough for those.

Below him, the man crawls over to the edge of the building. Yuuya’s frown turns to his shrunken form. What’s he up to now?

Yuuya pulls his glasses off and sets them on top of his hat. The sky is suddenly tinged green with the thousands of threads floating up to some unseen point in the sky.

The absurdly boring Character’s Drama Blue thread has gone completely taught.

Yuuya looks up for that vile invisible sludge to pour down from the Narrative’s depths. Even though a few silent minutes no doubt full of monologuing go by, though, no such thing happens.

That’s…weird.

(No it isn’t.)

Yuuya finishes the rest of his cold, soggy chicken and sets the plastic container down next to him. A sting of anxiety and foreboding numbs his spine. Makes him feel sick.

Then he sees it. The thread pulsating. Not with light, but with an abyssal, cutting black.

That’s not weird at all.

Yuuya pulls the expensive cake out of the bag next. He ignores how hard his hands are shaking and squeezes his eyes shut. His tongue runs so hard over his snaggletooth he thinks he might cut it open, but the familiar gesture does nothing to soothe him.

They aren’t people.

This city is full of humans who aren’t people.

This city is full of nothing but characters.

(The man is crying now.)

They aren’t people.

He’s just a Character.

He’s just a…

“Let’s see what grandma got you, Yuu-chan!”

Yuuya shoved his brother’s face out of the way with a plump, sticky hand so he could focus properly on carefully unfolding the wrapping paper. Wrapping paper he could save.

He undid the tape without tearing it, and delicately lifted out a thin cookbook.

“a cookbook…how wonderful! Why don’t you take a look inside? Maybe we can try something tomorrow. Together.”

Yuuya nodded, felt a curl of pleasure at ‘together’. He reverently opened the book to the first page.

A note was scribbled inside.

Food is meant for everybody. Always share if you can. Happiness comes to those who manipulate stomachs.

People who waste food deserve death.

The sitting room was silent.

“…Well, that’s my mom for you,” Yuuya’s mother sighed.

“You’re just as bad, though.”

“What was that, backsass from the son of my own blood? You wanna say it again?”

“Aahhh, owowow, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! I give! Give give give! Ahahaha!”

“Divine punishment!”

Yuuya barely noticed the debacle behind him. He ran his hands over the words in a trance. They were full of personality. Identity. Humanity.

It was a simple, hopelessly naive, yet painfully hopeful optimism.

He’s jealous of the version of him who knew how to feel it.

Yuuya’s voice escapes on its own when the man takes his first shoe off.

“Oi.”

Giving this Character the food he bought to treat himself would not make him happy. It probably won’t make the man happy either. But the alternative is being soul-crushingly miserable, so he’ll trust in his grandmother’s advice.

The man spins around and nearly trips over his discarded shoe.

“W-Wha-”

A pair of small, black, and unremarkable eyes fix directly on Yuuya’s even more small, black, and unremarkable eyes, and Yuuya feels a sudden and distinct flare of heat spike through his body. He’s trembling all over again.

“…You want some?”

He holds out his expensive cake.

There’s a moment where all Yuuya feels is terror and the excruciating heat of his adrenalin reacting to being seen and considered. His eyes keep flicking to the thread. The pulsating in the man’s thread is slowing down. The black is going away.

The Black can go away.

The man looks numb and a little confused, but he puts his shoe back on and joins Yuuya above the door. The thread finally goes lax, before dissolving back into the Daily Green.

Danger averted.

Yuuya cuts the cake in half and passes it to his new companion. Said companion looks terribly lost.

Yuuya shifts uncomfortably. “I-I’m going to be a…I’m starting high school soon. I came up to celebrate. This hotel has the best view.”

The man regards him blankly. Yuuya does not enjoy being regarded.

“…I was supposed to be here for an event. I was an assistant to a very important person, and he fired me on the spot. Loudly.”

Yuuya gives him a sympathetic seethe. He’s not sure he’s capable of empathy, but it’s the thought that counts.

The man looks at Yuuya’s bag, and the crappy microwave dinner.

“How did you get in with that?”

“People don’t tend to notice me much.”

“Are you even staying at this hotel?”

Yuuya opens his mouth to reply, but the man’s eyes on his face makes the words stick in his throat. He just shakes his head instead. His palms are sweaty.

“…What’s with the dinner? That looks terrible.”

Yuuya’s lips twitch. He picks up the thin little plastic fork, spears what looks like something meant to resemble cauliflower, and holds it up in front of the man’s mouth.

The man looks mildly threatened by the presented vegetable, but he still gently takes it between his teeth.

His expression instantly sours. Yuuya bites down on his lip to keep from laughing.

“Why would you…!”

“Hhh- The, well…It’s like, sort of, suffering makes it all the sweeter?”

“Huh?”

“…It’s not like I dislike eating a delicious dessert after a delicious meal. I just think…after suffering the worst sort of garbage, on top of the pleasure of treating myself, the ‘ahh, thank goodness’ of being able to finally eat something good…I like it.”

Yuuya isn’t sure the man can even hear his muttering, at first, but then he gets a noise of agreement. “…Something good after the worse possible thing, huh?”

Oohh. Is he taking the weird eating habits of some troublemaking teenager as an inspirational message? Impressive, impressive.

“…Then. Since you already experienced the worst possible thing. Eating cake on a roof like this feels nice. Right?”

The man looks out at the absurd yet beautiful view of the vividly divided town.

“…Yeah.”

And out of his green thread, a single tiny Passion Red emerges, too thin and tenuous to absorb a storyline just yet.

Wow. He works fast.

Yuuya grimaces into his cake. He’s seriously losing his appetite.

“…Haha. It’s good.”

No, they already had a moment here. Don’t stretch it out, man, it’s tacky.

“Oh!”

Yuuya startles at the sudden exclamation and nearly drops his cake. He curls back into himself and glares accusingly at his companion.

The man can at least read the situation enough to look embarrassed. At least. “S-Sorry. I just forgot to introduce myself. I’m…oh, and please don’t laugh.”

“I find very few things funny,” Yuuya says.

“Ha…Okay. I’m…My name is Yamada Tarou.”

Silence.

Yuuya is totally going to kick this guy’s ass.

“What kind of parent…”

“It was just circumstance. And, well, I sort of inadvertently matched the image. Placeholder names are suspicious enough to have…I think, when I was young, I thought I might look mysterious if I fit the ‘placeholder human’ image perfectly.”

“That’s the stupidest chuunibyou affliction I’ve ever heard.”

“Ahh, but it worked! It really worked, you know! Well. I’m still only human, in the end.”

He’s looking soulfully up at the sky. Yuuya is gonna do it. He’s going to beat the shit out of this guy.

….He doesn’t, though. He just stuffs a biteful of cake in his mouth and mumbles around the fork.

“Get an image change, already.”

“I’ll be sure to.” The man finishes his soulful sky-gazing to peer at Yuuya. The adrenalin-heat returns with a vengeance, and the mortification at how red his face must be only makes it worse.

“You’re being awfully convenient, here. Don’t tell me you’re an angel or some helpful spirit come to help me change my path in life?”

Yuuya really does laugh then, though based on Yamada Tarou’s expression, it sounds a lot more like the beginning stages of hysteria.

“Thanks for walking me through my problems. I’m sorry for doing something troublesome.”

In front of the hotel, Yamada-san bows deeply to Yuuya.

“O-Oi…Don’t go around bowing so deeply to a teenager in such an obvious place. I-It’ll draw attention. Have some pride as an adult.”

“No…I think it’s no exaggeration to say you saved my life. So, thank you.”

“Stop it…!”

“I also think it isn’t too terrible a thing to be looked at now and then.” Yamada-san tilts his head up to smile at Yuuya. “You know, even though you don’t really have a distinct face, I think that cute side could be popular.”

“I don’t have a cute side. Go die. Pervert. Criminal pervert. Die already.”

“A-Ah…so popularity is a no-go for you?”

“…I hate being looked at. That gaze of yours is vile. Quit it already. Better yet.” Yuuya outstretches an open palm. “Compensation for mental duress. Cough it up.”

“Yes, yes. I got it. I’ll be sure to make it up to you.” He looks like he’s placating a demanding child. Gonna kick his ass, kick his ass, kick his ass.

(They’re not people.)

“Well. I’m leaving.”

“Ah, wait, your name…?”

“Yuuya.”

“Just Yuuya…?”

“If I gave you my last name you’d definitely call me ‘lastname-san’ and treat me like a higher authority. It’s gross. If you do that, I’ll seriously kill you. So you only get my first name. So? Say it. ‘Yuuya-kun’. Like a fine adult. Treat me like a plucky youngster already.”

“are you trying to pick a fight? You’re really quite sensitive.”

“Hurry up and do it, old man!” Yuuya snaps.

He knows. He knows he’s been blushing like crazy this whole time, and he’s about as threatening as a newborn kitten right now. He knows it, already. But as a man, he had his pride.

“I got it. See you, Yuuya-sama!”

“Don’t make stupid jokes like that in public! Shitty placeholder old man!”

It’s the ‘a tender-hearted kid acting so prickly you can’t help but tease them’ compulsion. Yuuya knows it. Yuuya knows it, and he wants to crawl in a hole and rot. Being treated like this as a 16-year-old boy is…

It’s just…

Yuuya sucks in a breath.

“Make sure not to do anything reckless from now on!”

Yamada-san waves in acknowledgement.

It’s annoying.

There’s no way Yuuya can honestly say something like ‘just now, it wasn’t your fault, it was attempted murder’.

Or ‘no matter how hard you work to be happier, that thing might think you need to die for some cheap drama anyway’.

It’s weird when cheerfully changing a person’s worldview to this degree isn’t even close to a best-case scenario.

…But at least today didn’t end in anyone being miserable.

(They aren’t people.)

Yuuya looks up at the green-tinged sky. He doesn’t see what’s so great about it.