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Taro doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed.
It’s 11 A.M. in the Land of Light and his whole body aches; anchored to the bed and covered in sweat that burns before giving off the sensation that it’s freezing solid. While typically invigorated by the stillness of the morning, it was difficult for Taro to even turn off his alarm this time.
Having no other choice, he calls in sick with his students, hoping that the holes in his story aren’t gaping and exposed…hoping that no one can hear the break in his voice when he apologizes.
And so it goes…Famed Hero and Ace of the Intergalactic Defense Force: Ultraman Number Six goes back to bed, and when he wakes up, it’s 3:30 pm.
On a normal day, he would have been up by 6 A.M and ready to leave the house by eight. However, today he feels…sick… which isn’t exactly the best way to describe this feeling but it’s the only one that makes sense. Especially when thinking about the way Tregear cried out for Taro in those final moments makes it impossible for Taro to keep anything in his stomach.
It feels like sickness.
It feels like half death.
Though the unsettled chaos of his stomach rages on, Taro’s only solace is that it’s not like he could cook anything for himself anyways…considering the way his vision goes blurry with tears every time he tries.
The wound is still fresh.
The piece of Taro that Tregear took with him when he died still bleeds, tender to the touch though Taro likes to think he’s been doing an alright job hiding it from everyone else. Even still, the wound hurts to press on.
After all, it hasn’t actually been that long.
Only one day. He promises himself. One day to be… Like this…and then he can pretend everything is fine again…because at the end of it all, Taro still has to be the hero, the beacon of light for people to count on. It’s expected of him.
Even though in reality, all he wants is to be left alone. He feels so heavy he can hardly think. Hardly breathe.
And what hurts even more is that Taro has no excuse. Tregear made it clear they weren’t friends anymore. He ruined everything. He betrayed the land of light. And yet, the ache persists. The agonizing crater in Taro’s heart that’s shaped just like his old best friend throbs and stings horribly, a vulnerability in an otherwise impenetrable mask.
Taro gets up to wash his face and when he does, he sees Tregear right beside him. Looming over Taro with a wicked grin.
Taro is used to it by now but it doesn’t make the tricks his mind plays any less cruel. It doesn’t ever make him fail to second guess.
In a way, it wouldn’t be wrong for Taro to think that even though Tregear lost the fight, he won in the aftermath with one final act of cruelty. Because now that he’s gone, Taro sees him everywhere. From the shadows on the walls to the corner of his eye, he can feel Tregear’s presence ever still.
He can hear Tregear’s taunting whispers beside him, an aggravating, “Don’t you want to kill me~?” A twisted little, “We finally meet again-!” A soft, possessive whisper of, “Mine~!” reminiscent of all the times they weren’t supposed to be in each other’s orbit.
Sometimes if his head stops spinning, Taro can hold full blown conversations with the sounds he hears. They tend to loop in circles, the same topic but in different formats every time;
“This is your fault, Taro…”
“I know…!” Taro’s voice breaks, “I’m sorry..! I know that’s not enough to fix things, but I am-!”
“You’re right…it’s not.” The specter of Tregear’s memory chides in a way that’s almost bittersweet. So familiar and yet so cruel. No one could ever understand why Taro misses it so much. Why he hangs on every word…Why he can’t let go.
Tregear would want this after all. Taro is sure of that if nothing else.
The conversation rinses itself in the murky waters of guilt and then repeats once again. A looping record with a needle stubbornly stuck on a single song.
With what little strength he has, Taro gets up again, locks his door and then falls asleep on his couch.
It’s 6 P.M when he wakes and all Taro can think about is Tregear. Tregear’s voice. Tregear’s mannerisms. Tregear’s memory. It burns behind Taro’s retinas all the same.
Though he’s passed the stage of crying for hours, it doesn’t make things easier to stomach. It doesn’t make the bitter, acidic feeling of longing go away.
He can hear Tregear’s voice in his memory, soft and yet venomous as he would tease, “Come chase me~! Number Six~!”
In a sense, those words defined what they were. Two people chasing each other, both of whom refused to be caught.
Taro finds himself replaying in his mind a specific moment. A relic of a memory from when they were teenagers escaping an alien planet exploration gone wrong.
In the wake of danger, there was normalcy in the way their roles were defined with Taro as the pilot and Tregear as his navigator. There was comfort in the way the two of them nervously laughed and smiled. He remembers the way Tregear’s hands shook and his eyes closed as he smiled. Taro thinks about it more these days now that he’ll never get to see those rare glimpses of light from Tregear again.
The incident plays again in Taro’s mind.
A bundle of nerves and fight or flight instincts, Taro was glad to simply be alive and to be there with Tregear. And though both were exhausted, they had each other. There was a certain level of release in those moments. Abandoning instinct to soak in the calm of being next to his best friend.
After the start of his career, Taro would only feel this way one other time…against his will as a victim of possession… and then Tregear ceased to be at all.
Taro thinks about their simulated late nights growing up on a planet with no darkness. Coffee and endless conversations in their youth that always ended with either one or the other almost spitting out their drink.
Tregear seldom ever seemed to laugh unless Taro was inches from his face and teasing him about work, or about that one lovestruck woman from the science department that Tregear had no interest in. Taro wouldn’t figure out why that was until much later.
“Taro?” Taro hears someone call his name, followed by a sudden knock on his door.
“Taro?” He can hear it clearer now, it’s his mom’s voice on the other side of the door, “Is everything alright? Your students told me they were worried about you!”
Putting on his best voice, Taro croaks out, “I’m fine…! Just sick with the flu-!”
“Well that’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” Marie’s voice is chipper.
Taro freezes, not wanting his mom to see him like this, his voice is half pleading as he responds, “It’s fine-! I can just sweat this one out-!”
“Now, Taro, it’s never a good idea to be sick by yourself. Especially if you don’t have to be.”
“Might have to-! I…! You don’t want what I have-!”
“Oh Taro, when has that ever been an issue?”
“It is…! Now…!” Taro sighs, realizing that he won’t be able to escape her that easily, he lets his best voice die when he says, “Come in…”
Taro closes his eyes and prepares for the worst, hearing the click of a key turning followed by footsteps, a soft little gasp and a, “Taro-! One of your horns is stuck in the couch-!” He always forgets she has a spare key to the house until moments like this occur.
Sheepishly, Taro replies, “I know…”
“Taro? Can I check your temperature?” Marie asks
Taro struggles for a bit before being able to pull his horn out of the couch, trying to avoid eye contact with Marie at any opportunity as he gently tilts his head enough to try and hide his expression…but it’s too late. Her hand is pressed against his head and her eyes have made contact with his.
Taro’s mom isn’t stupid. It’s likely obvious that Taro’s been distraught considering how dry his eyes feel and how they likely look. The cheerful act falls apart, Taro feels a sudden pain in his chest as a shiver runs down his spine. He’s powerless in that moment to stop the bubbling emotion that threatens to escape him.
His voice is below a whisper, “He’s gone…!”
Marie pulls Taro into a hug.
Taro’s hands go clammy as he begins to dry heave, through no will of his own.
“Oh Taro-! It must feel awful…!” Marie begins rubbing slow circles over her son’s back.
“He was my best friend-!” Taro’s voice quivers, “I don’t even get to say sorry-!” His hands tremble violently.
“Oh Taro..!” Marie gently pats his back.
“He suffered when he died…! I can still hear it sometimes…! The last thing…!” Taro chokes a little on his own words, “The last thing he ever did was call out for me…! I promised to protect him…! And yet, in the end…! I couldn’t save him at all…! He died…! Screaming for me…!”
“You’re a kind boy… He possessed you shortly before his death and yet your first thought is of him and his sorrows upon dying. Loving him is indicative of your spirit. Rejecting that love in the form you offered is indicative of his…”
“I shouldn’t miss him…! I know…! He betrayed us all and I know that…! But…I just wanted him to come home…! I knew he could change…! He just had to try…!”
Marie lets out a gentle laugh, “It seems you two are alike in some ways-! I had to tell him the same thing I’m about to tell you. Do you remember when you two got into that argument over his friendship jealousy?”
“When he bit dad..?” Taro chokes out a small laugh, “Yeah…!”
“My advice for him is the same as it is for you, Taro. Tregear had to be his own person. It doesn’t matter how much you want something to happen or how much you want someone to change, people always go their own way eventually-!”
Taro leans into the hug as his voice softens, “I just wish it was different…”
“Don’t we all…”
Taro could hardly bear it all, though he knew in his heart it was the truth. One of these days, he would have to lay it to rest, and decide on the moment that would be where he would let Tregear go. But that would be a body to bury on another day. For now, on his day off, he would indulge in his mom softly encouraging, ‘Tell me some stories about him-!’ and in those stories, he would keep the good parts of his best friend alive in the only way he knew how.