Chapter Text
A knife-like pain shot through Haru’s lower back. It jolted him to a full wake and a sudden awareness.
Everything was green.
Grass crowned Haru’s head and prickled his exposed skin. All else was trees - tall and stalky and intertwining. Bamboos , he recognized, before questioning why he was seeing them.
The man used his elbows to sit himself up. His dark hair, which smelled of ashes and the earth, fell over his face. A scent of something smoky thinned the thick and moist air that suffocated him. Clearing his throat with several coughs, he looked around for its source, but only saw more green - weeds, unkempt and wild. Where was he? The last thing he could remember was the turbulence that shook the whole plane. It also shook the living soul out of him.
He rubbed his back, finding it bruised and tender. Then he checked for signs of casualty on other parts of his body. Other than a few scratches on his face and limbs, there was no major damage to worry about - except that his back was killing him. Haru stood up, finding that his knees were shaky. After taking a few paces, weaving between the green stalks in his way, the stinging pain in his back began to subside to an annoying sore. At least, he was able to walk with a bit more ease.
Soot covered his hands and clothing. He looked for smoke again, and this time, he saw a dark cloud in the distance that tainted the painfully bright, blue sky. It wasn’t far.
He marched through the trees. The natural sounds of leaves rustling and birds chirping slowly diminished as they were replaced by incoherent shrieks and loud, foreign noises.
Haru ran.
The forest ended, opening a view to a beach. It was a beach in chaos. Plane parts were scattered throughout the length of the shore: shards of glass, giant pieces of the wings broken into unrecognizable shapes, and the engines and seats ripped from the plane, which was now a gaping hole. Men and women were running, screaming, standing still from horror. And blood. Bodies and blood and fire everywhere. It was hard to imagine everything had been so green before.
Haru stepped back.
Roars from the still spinning turbines of the engines filled his ringing ears.
This was too much.
A woman fell over a small body. No! My baby! Her wails were unbearable. My baby!
This was a dream.
“Help! Over here!” One man cried.
A large piece of the plane had fallen over, pinning someone’s legs underneath.
Haru ran to his side. “Are you alright?” It was a dumb thing to ask, but a sort of comfort came along with the question, like the situation wasn’t all that bad. Like he could fix it.
“I - I think so.” The man’s voice was hoarse from the dry air caused by the fire. “Just need to lift this off” The stranger pushed at the metal pinning him down, and Haru quickly bent down to help him. The metal lifted and fell over to Haru’s side with a thud .
The man stared at the chunk of the plane that he was now free of like if he didn’t keep an eye on it, the thing would jump back down on him.
“Thank you,” he finally exhaled. He looked up at Haru, his eyes unfocused. They were intensely purple, like the color of the grapes in Haru's garden when they were fully ripened. There was a chance he’d never see them again.
“My glasses . . .” The stranger groped around the sand beside him.
Glasses. There was no way they would have survived the crash. But just then, Haru noticed something shimmer under a light pile of debris a few feet away from them. The red, plastic frame was surprisingly still in shape, and there wasn’t a single crack on the glass. A small miracle, Haru thought.
“Here, is this it?” He handed the object to him.
The stranger pushed back his short, blue hair and straightened the glasses on his face. “Ahh,” he beamed, like wearing his spectacles was all he needed to recover. He stood up, faced Haru, and made a quick, swift bow. “Thank you, once again.”
Haru turned his head to the side, feeling awkward from the formality. “Don’t mention it.” The words came out mumbled, though he didn’t mean them to.
Maybe the stranger didn’t notice or, more probably, was too grateful to be free and alive, and seeing , that he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m Ryugazaki Rei,” he offered, sensing Haru’s shyness. “But you can call me Rei.”
Now, it was the sudden casualty that made Haru a little uncomfortable.
“Nana-”
“Haru-chan!”
A small-framed body ran into Haru’s back and wrapped its arms around him. He didn’t need to turn around to know whose they came from.
“I’m so glad you’re alive!” The hug tightened, making Haru release an abrupt yelp.
“Ah! Sorry, Haru-chan!” Nagisa screeched. “Are you hurt somewhere?!”
Haru shook his head, not wanting to cause more fuss from his excited friend than needed. “It’s nothing. Just my back.”
“Is it bleeding? Do you need a bandage?” His dilated magenta eyes examined Haru.
“I’m fine. It’s just a small bruise. What about you?” Haru asked, eager to switch the attention away from himself. From the looks of it, Nagisa was more than fine. Around his waist were tools, some makeshift, some Haru recognized easily: a switchblade, a flask, a flashlight, and short, thin rope, all secured together in a tether of what looked like t-shirts. The sleeves of his colorful jersey were rolled up, revealing his arms and hands that were sand-covered and blood-stained. But the blood was clearly not his; his face was unscathed and his posture as stable as ever. Knowing Nagisa, he had probably jumped right into action when he realized he could move a single leg and offer aid.
His friend responded with a hasty nod, shifting his gaze to the man behind him. “What about you, are you okay?” Nagisa asked.
Rei stepped forward to acknowledge the tiny blonde. “Yes, thank you. Your friend here was of great help. Haru-chan, was it?” Realizing his mistake, Rei quickly shook his head. “Ah, no, sorry. I mean, Haru-chan-san.”
A burst of laughter came out of Nagisa. “ Haru-chan-san ,” he repeated.
Rei wasn’t amused. “I’m sorry, but I really do think it’s no time for laughter.”
“But you -” Nagisa began, then remembering the situation they were in, his face straightened, the smile he had wiped clean. “You’re right.” He reached into the crevices of his shirt-belt, Haru was surprised there was still space in there and pulled out rolls of bandages. Nagisa handed one each to the other two. “You might need these.” He let out a huff like he’d been standing in place for far too long.
“Let’s go help our people out,” he claimed with a sort of grin.
Nagisa had said it had been hours since the plane crash. Almost four, when he had found Haru, and yet, the beach was still fresh of hysteria and the survivors not knowing what to do with themselves. The three made their way around the shore for another two, trying to soothe any injuries they could (which Haru had nearly no experience in) before people began putting the fire out. Haru was glad. Even with the setting sun, sweat stuck to every pore of his skin and unpleasantly trickled down his forehead.
One of the men putting out the fires caught Haru’s attention. He had brown hair, green eyes, and muscles that looked built to be a fireman’s. He was too young, though. Maybe only Haru’s age. The man had helped a child who had been stuck inside the plane from her seat belt tangling around her. Together, they found her father, one of the injured, but alive. As the child was embraced by familiar arms, Haru saw the obvious relief in the helper’s eyes. His smile covered his whole face, and for a moment, Haru was left a little stricken. Then the man returned to putting out fires and disappeared as he traveled further down the shore.
Order began taking place. Haru realized it was because someone had taken lead, telling others what had to be done. First, make sure no one else is buried under rubble, then help the injured; get them away from the wreckage, which was still falling apart; put out the fire; salvage anything useful: radios, food, batteries, first aid. Make shelter. Get a proper fire started. The night might be cold. Those coconuts there should have water in them. Put aside the dead.
The name Captain Mikoshiba gets thrown around. Most likely the pilot, Haru figured.
After the last ray of sun had hidden behind the ocean, the atmosphere cooled around those left on the beach. Many still grieved in silence, either walking around aimlessly or sitting beside their unbreathing loved ones, tears long dried on their faces. Others, Haru could tell, only grieved for themselves. The damned situation they were in. He couldn’t blame them. Taking this trip was a mistake - he should’ve stayed in Tokyo.
The majority, however, had gathered the mental strength to make do with what they could. They hadn’t traveled with loved ones and were just grateful to be alive, with youthful adrenaline running through them from today’s event.
It wasn’t surprising. Most aboard the plane were college students like Haru, swimmers and other athletes that were given a chance to compete at an elite event in Australia. Those who were chosen to go were given free round-trip tickets. It was supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to show off whatever skills you possessed to the most prestigious sports teams.
You have to go, Nagisa had insisted. You can’t let your talent go to waste.
Soft echoes of laughter could be heard from where the bonfire was made and a crowd was gathered in planning, led by the mysterious Captain Mikoshiba. Nagisa and Rei decided to join in, and Haru was relieved when they didn’t force him to go along. Exhausted, he sat himself on the sand, away from all the commotion.
Sprays from the crashing waves soothed the tension he’d been carrying. He hung his head, allowing his hair hide him from the world.
Worried that horror images of the crash would come rushing back to him, Haru didn’t let himself close his eyes. Instead, he stared at his hands.
They were shaking. They weren’t his.
Grime and strangers’ blood lined his darkened fingernails. Cuts and bruises painted his palms like surreal artwork. The only time Haru’s hands were covered in anything was when those things were dusts of flour or oils and pastels.
He released a sigh. Haru didn’t want to admit it, but the sore on his lower back had grown. He took off his shirt to examine it. A giant, purple bruise lay gawking at him. It was bigger than the size of his fist.
“Is everything alright?”
The question came from beside him. Haru glanced up to find the man from before - the one who saved the girl, the fireman - looking down at him.
“I’m fine!” Haru exclaimed, cursing the sand for not allowing any warning of approaching human footsteps. Embarrassed from his outburst and lack of upper clothing, which was unusual, because being half naked didn’t often bother him around people, he grabbed his shirt and slipped it on. If he could’ve, he would’ve stripped long ago and jumped into the ocean, but that wouldn’t have been appropriate and -
“It’s okay. I’m not going to bite.” A light chuckle stumbled from the fireman-guy’s lips. Somehow, Haru knew it wasn’t because he was laughing at him, but because the stranger was nervous, too. Well, everyone would be. They’d all just survived a plane crash and were stuck in the middle of nowhere with people they didn’t know a single thing about. Of course, he was nervous. Of course, this was the reason Haru’s heart was beating a little too fast.
Haru cleared his throat, and tried at a dismissive laughter. “Right. I know.” He turned his head to the side, away from the eyes of his company. His hands had steadied, but his face was heating. He wished he was submerged deep in the cold ocean.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but the bruise on your back . . .” The man hesitated for a moment, unsure. “Would you like me to help you? If you don’t treat it, the swelling could get worse.”
Haru took in a breath of cool air, turning towards the fireman-guy, and nodded his head - only because his back was killing him.
Fireman-guy smiled. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“Great.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a white bandage. “I got this from this kind man, Nagisa-kun? I think I saw him with you earlier helping out with the injured.”
Haru wasn’t sure how to respond, so he only nodded.
Fireman-guy looked to accept this as a more than enough response. He walked over to the shore, dipping the bandage in the water. Then he settled himself behind Haru.
“Could you lift up your shirt?” He asked.
Haru clutched the hem of his shirt in his hands, bending over slightly so that his lower back was more accessible to the stranger.
A cold sensation caressed his skin as the bandage was laid atop his bruise. He could also feel warm, firm fingers pressing along his side. There was a short silence between them before the stranger spoke again.
“My name’s Tachibana Makoto,” he said.
Introductions were never a favorite of Haru’s. One, because he liked keeping to himself; he never really bothered with gaining new friends, and only concerned himself with the ones he already had. And two, because he hated his name.
“Nanase . . .” Haru paused, more embarrassed than ever over his girly first name.“Haruka” he finished, closing his eyes to wait for the inevitable.
“Haruka.” Tachibana echoed. There was awe in the way he said it. It wasn’t what Haru was expecting at all. “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I call you that?”
Still bewildered, Haru stuttered. “Ha-Haru’s fine.”
“Haru.” His name sounded different coming from Tachibana. It was the certain way that he said it, firm but fluttering. An ocean wave breaking into mist. “Then, you can call me Makoto.”
Finished with the treatment, Makoto got up to greet Haru once again. “Nice to meet you,” he chimed. Makoto’s head was tilted slightly to the side, a genuine delight lighting his face. Bangs fell over his right eye. His hair wasn’t as straight as Haru’s, but neither was it curly. It reminded him of the color of brown sugar. Sometimes, he’d sprinkle a bit into the pan when he fried mackerel. The sweetness added a nice contrast to the salted fish.
Haru’s stomach grumbled. From everything that had happened, he didn’t realize he hadn’t eaten since he’d boarded the plane.
“Hungry? I’ve got -” Makoto’s words halted as his attention was caught by something past Haru.
“I have to find her!”
The shouting came from a man who stomped across the beach behind them. He yelled out a name over and over again. Even in the dark, Haru could make out fiery, red eyes and hair just as savage and flaming. But it wasn’t those features that made him terrifying. It was his teeth. Each seemed to be carved to a fine point, like made for hunting prey. Who would do that to themselves?
Another followed the enraged male. “Rin,” the newcomer began. “We’ve already been looking for hours. It’s too dark, now. I promise, we’ll find her tomorrow.”
“It could be too late tomorrow, dammit!” the madman retorted. “I’m going in. Don’t try to stop me.”
He headed towards the forest, kicking sand behind him as he continued, but soon stumbled forward to find his face laid flat on the sand. The calmer of the two had caught up to the other and pinned him to the ground. He was only slightly taller and not much bigger in muscle size, but was able to hold down the squirming guy under a solid grip.
“Your stupid bravery isn’t going to do anything for her.”
“Get off me!”
“This is for your own good,” he insisted. The taller had sunset-colored hair, slicked back to reveal his stern expression.
When it was clear that any struggling he did wouldn’t free him, the madman relinquished. “Fine,” he breathed out. “We’ll do it your way, Captain .” The name was meant to be an obvious mock, but Captain Mikoshiba, who Haru now guessed was, ignored it.
The captain stumbled back as he released the madman. Holding him down must have taken more effort than it had looked. The other got up, brushing off the sand on his clothing. He kept his head lowered, like he was embarrassed to face his acquaintance.
“It’s not stupid bravery.” His words were breathless as he choked them out. Haru wondered if he was crying. “I just want my sister back.”
When he finally lifted his head, the captain had disappeared. Matching the shape of the madman's mouth, was a hole in the sand where Captain Mikoshiba had been standing.