Chapter Text
Akira knew exactly who he was.
Among many things, he was hopeful. He hoped for a good day today. He hoped for Naga to keep up. And most of all, he hoped to make him smile.
The small mountain he stood atop plateaued at the summit, gray and pallid brown pebbles coating its surface. Okhark was desperately clinging on to the last whispers of spring before the icy plunge into fall. The thin mountain air stretched silent and pure, broken only by the distant and faint sounds of the main city. But that was to the south. Here, facing northward, Akira’s vision was entirely filled by a sea of trees. Tall, knife-sharp evergreens standing sentinel-like, which crowded down into a valley before rushing up the side of a second great mountain.
Akira held up a hand to shield his eyes. A smattering of clouds was all there was to subdue the midday sun as it slid lazily against the azure sky. On his mountain, there were only so few trees, and they were nothing like the hearty evergreens. They were skinny things, with limbs that skittered forth into crooked, twisting branches. He grunted as he clambered over a large rock, ignoring the dust that was surely forming a second layer on his clothes.
A small straggling figure squinted up at him from a few meters away. Despite the sunny day, his expression was all storms. Akira held out his hand in a wordless offer. It was taken begrudgingly.
Akira helped heave him up onto the rock. “I don’t know why we can’t just move it out of the way,” Naga complained once he found his feet again. He glared down at the rock.
“Because it’s part of the environment, and moving it will harm everything.” Akira didn’t know exactly what that meant or if it was true, but Asha told him it was, and she knew the land better than anybody.
Naga huffed but left it alone. He always did. He and his family had been coming to Okhark for six years now, since Akira was five. They came to trade, apparently. Akira didn’t really understand it, or why they had to travel so far just to exchange things, but he always looked forward to their visits because of Naga. He’s the first, and best, friend that Akira has ever had and probably ever will. With a shock, Akira realized he had never told Naga that. Asha always said that you should tell people what you’re thinking if it’s something nice.
“I told you, I am only here because of my parents,” Naga said when Akira let him know, stepping gingerly around a critter hole, but he couldn’t fool Akira. The tip of his ears were hued pink.
“You say that every time,” Akira said, unable to keep the amusement from seeping into his voice, “but you always play anyway.” He stopped, as did the sound of dirt crunching underfoot, and turned around. The whole of Okhark spread out below them in a massive organized tangle of buildings. The domed rooftops of greenhouses poked up on the fringes of the city, rows and rows of them extending into the distance. They caught the glare of the sun, and Akira had to shift his gaze away.
Naga came to join him, his breath coming out in audible little puffs. He nudged at a pebble with his shoe and sent it tumbling away. “...’cus there’s nothing else to do,” he grumbled.
“Huh?”
“I only play with you ’cus there’s nothing else to do, dummy,” Naga said louder, bumping Akira’s shoulder with his own.
Akira only tugged him onward. “You’re such a bad liar.”
“I am not lying,” Naga protested, so Akira kicked at him. Naga squawked and tried kicking him back, but Akira darted away. A thrill rose up as Naga shouted after him. He laughed as he ran, the wind curling about him.
Akira and his sisters weren't actually born here or even to his mother. Still, he barely remembered a time before Naga, so he must have practically known him since birth.
There was a time when he had been rather intimidated by him. Long years of minimal interaction with kids his age, even at school, had kept him wary. It didn't help that Naga had the most piercing blue eyes he'd ever seen. It was easy to feel like they could peel back your layers.
But he was gentle with their animals. He treated his sisters kindly, even if he was shy around them, which was funny to watch. His parents were okay too, but Akira didn't know them very well. He attached himself to Naga’s side whenever he visited and yammered his ear off as though Naga hadn’t left in the first place. Whether it was about his day at school or ranting about his sisters or an interesting bug he had seen, Akira told him about all of it. He knew he was being annoying and didn’t care. But the other boy, despite his neutral expression whenever this occurred, never objected to it either or pushed him away.
Sometimes he just liked to act like a regal ice prince.
“Almost there!” Akira called once he rounded a shrub and slowed down. A thin ribbon, once red but now a faded pink, fluttered from one of its branches and marked the entrance to their destination: a little hideout of their own, built up over the years. It sat against a massive boulder that jutted up from the ground at a steep angle. A couple overturned crates served as their seats, covered in hundreds of small scratches but still sturdy. A large canvas, worn at the edges, stretched from a stake in the ground to the tip of the rock, secured by old rope Akira had found. They were the only practical elements they had bothered with.
Naga appeared a few seconds later. He braced his hands on his knees and gulped in breaths. “Finally. Don't even know…why I chase you.”
“I added some new things,” Akira said. “I even…”
“Even what?” Naga came up beside him.
Akira lowered his voice to a whisper. “I stole something.”
Naga gave him a deadpan look. “No you didn’t.”
Akira frowned, indignation flaring up. “What, don’t believe me?”
“You can’t even borrow Asha's pen without asking for permission,” Naga snorted.
“That is just so wrong,” Akira scoffed, ignoring the fact that he did just swipe the new addition from a dumpster. “Maybe you are a good liar.”
“Well, fine. What did you steal?” Naga asked with a roll of his eyes.
Akira ducked under the tarp, grateful for the relief it provided. He reached for something by the crate on the far left and held it up to Naga. “This,” he said proudly. “Do you like it?”
Small jars of various colors had been strung through with string, with colorful wooden beads placed in between them. Naga, who was still standing at the outskirts, approached to get a better look. Akira liked to think he'd notice when Naga gained a sparkle in his eyes. “Cool,” he said, which in Naga-speak meant that he did indeed like it.
Naga’s approval gained, Akira worked at attaching it to the edge of the canvas. He heard rustling, and a second later there came a snort. A flat piece of cardboard entered Akira’s view. “You still have this?” Naga asked him. The cardboard depicted a mecha, more specifically, a famous mecha from the Eras military. It was drawn by Naga in neat lines, its hand clenched into a fist and raised up to the sky in confident challenge. Akira had tried to draw one too, but it was much harder than he thought it would be, so he had given up.
“Of course I do,” Akira said, finally securing the jars. He stepped back to survey his handiwork. “Got a problem with that?”
“Yeah. It sucks.” Naga held the picture with two hands and glowered at it. “This is two years old.”
Naga’s brain was so mysterious. What did that matter? “Okay?” Akira said, stretching the word. “Then draw me a new one!” Naga grumbled, because of course he did, but moved off to rummage around in the underbelly of the other crate. They kept some art supplies there, meager though they were.
Thus, they settled into a routine. Naga perched himself on the crate, hunched over his cardboard in shrimp fashion and scribbled on it. Akira worked on tidying the place up. Well, if brushing loose pebbles into a slightly different spot was “tidying”. It gave him a chance to look at everything again. He usually only visited this place when Naga was here, and it had been a while. A cat plushie rested in a small makeshift den made of twigs, surrounded by dirt-smudged figurines of various animals and mechas. Most of them were from Naga’s travels, so it was a worldly collection as well. A shiny belt buckle hung as a necklace on a small plastic wolf. Some books and magazines were littered around as well, their favorite passages torn away and hanging from the edge of the canvas. Beside them were posters they had been lucky enough to snag in fairly good condition.
It wasn’t much, but it grew with every visit. People should always have a few trinkets around. If you knew what someone liked, then it was easy to buy them gifts, or talk about their interests.
Eventually, Akira found himself wandering up to the top of the overhanging rock. The sun was dipping below the faraway mountain, its peak slowly splitting its light into burnished rays that washed over the evergreens. It was terribly comfortable, and more than once Akira felt akin to those lizards that he sometimes saw sunbathing right out in the open. He had to pinch himself a couple of times to keep from falling asleep, because he didn’t want to miss this time with Naga. Speaking of which…
“Hey Naga,” Akira called. He only received a grunt in response. Akira flipped onto his stomach and wiggled forward so his head was hanging off the lip of the rock. From here, he had a top down view of their hideout. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”
“Shush, I’m almost done,” Naga muttered, still glued to his cardboard canvas. “What?”
“How long are you staying this time?”
Naga paused, his blue colored pencil stilling in his hand. “A week.”
Disappointment sunk Akira’s heart. “Oh. That’s way shorter than last time.” He didn’t want to dwell on the fact that it had been that way for a while, now. Each visit was shorter than the last. Naga didn’t seem to know its implications any more than he did.
“Yeah, I know. It’s stupid,” Naga said, resuming his coloring after a moment.
Akira decided to move on quickly. “Well, see anything interesting? Any…bandits?” he whispered conspiratorially. They were always a hot topic in Okhark.
Naga hummed. “No bandits. But I did see something cooler…” He scooted around and held up his drawing. Akira peered down at it and gasped in amazement. It was a mecha, of course, but different than his previous one. It was sleek and slender, with one leg partially lifted in a graceful pose.
“I saw them!” Naga said, tapping the picture. “Before we came here, we visited the Northern Outpost. Well, the edge of it anyway. And Dancer was there!” He continued to talk animatedly about their encounter, which was apparently only Naga catching a glimpse of the mech in the distance. He wasn’t as into mechas as Naga was, but seeing the usually reserved boy speak so excitedly brought a smile to his face. Despite that, Akira couldn’t stop a twinge of envy. Naga’s life sounded so interesting. He got to travel everywhere and encounter so many people and cultures, whereas the ranch was all he knew. Akira was half convinced that he permanently smelled like yak poo by now, but if he really did, Naga politely declined to mention it.
“Wow…,” Akira said when Naga finished. “That’s incredible…I wish I could’ve seen it.” His mind drifted, enraptured by the vivid descriptions Naga provided.
Naga searched for a place to prop up his newest masterpiece. “Y’know…it’s not as great as it sounds,” he said, the excitement slowly bleeding from his voice. “The traveling, I mean.”
Akira didn’t say anything, only rolling his eyes when Naga turned his back. They’d beaten this topic into the ground by now, and he didn’t want to start it again, though the urge was there. How would Naga know, anyway? He got to do it all the time!
“There.” Naga stood back and admired his work. The cardboard sat between the cat plush, bracketed by its legs. “Perfect.”
Starting to feel bothered by the sun, Akira squirmed off the rock and joined Naga’s side. “But you can’t see the kitty!” he complained.
“Yeah, but it’s protecting the drawing,” Naga replied easily. Akira looked again and closer this time. Indeed, the cat's head poked up from the top of the drawing, and Naga had placed its front paws around the edges in a protective or even proud manner.
The moment brought a sudden and surprising clarity. Staring at Naga’s drawing, with its creator beside him…
Akira didn’t want it to end.
Not just this moment, but Naga’s visits. His smile, his eyes, his calming presence…he didn’t want it to disappear. He tried to quash that new and queasy feeling, but an inkling remained no matter what.
He really didn't want to think about the decreasing length of Naga's visits.
“Hey,” Akira said, turning to face him. When those blue eyes met his, Akira immediately wanted to bail, but he swallowed his pride and forged on. “Promise me that whatever happens in the future, we’ll be together, okay?”
Naga blinked owlishly at him, and Akira feared his response. And then: a tiny smile, barely visible. It was far from the broad one he sported just minutes before, but to Akira, it was just as brilliant. “That goes without saying, dummy.” Naga gently bumped Akira’s shoulder, and for now, for a moment, everything was okay.
Even when the week ended and Akira stood watching him leave, he remembered Naga’s drawing, still sitting in the same position and cradled by a cat. Even when, months later, Naga returned to only stay a few days, he remembered Naga’s enthusiasm at seeing Dancer. He saw his face whenever the wind caused the strung-through bottles to clink together. Even when Akira and Naga kept up letters—as neither of them owned any sort of comms device—Akira remembered the warmth of the afternoon sun on that day.
And when the months limped on and the letters stopped coming, Akira remembered their promise. And so it was when Akira was eleven when he learned what it was like to lose a friend, and his hope dwindled. He did not wish to rekindle it.