#manaara

1.

The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don't love me back.

Manami had resigned himself to always being displaced. Was there ever a time he wasn’t? As he turns the corner, he muses to himself that maybe he was never meant to be in the one place. It was a correct assumption when he vaguely recalled the car swerving wide and then nothing. How long ago was that? Was he still Manami? Manami remembered another Manami, with softer features and longer hair. Reaching up to run a hand over short hair that ended at his nape, a pointed nose and high cheekbones unlike what he used to see.

He hadn’t realised he’d stopped in the middle of the street until there’s a thump to his chest that leaves him breathless, and suddenly the sky is far above him. It spins and Manami wonders if he’s going to move on again. A sharp comment about watching where he’s going draws him back and Manami knows that voice so well.

Sitting up faster than he ever did before, Manami stares into those narrowed eyes, ones who never truly trusted him, and it’s a struggle not to cry. A weight leaves him and he’s anchored. Manami remembers that look and the name is on his tongue but

He notices the smaller details and he’s lingered too long. The other man (shorter, blonde, only the eyes are the same) stands and gathers his things, complaining about kids on the street and how he’s going to be late and there’s not even a second glance as he’s gone.

Later, in what he’d assume was his home, Manami gasps out that name and cries until he’s gone.

2.

The next time you are brunette, and you do.

When Manami opens his eyes for the first time, there is nothing but bright white light. It takes a few moments to adjust but when he blinks and yawns and presses closer to the warmth, it’s a whole other world.

A gentle hand rests on his head and he nudges closer, remembering this touch so well. There’s a soft thrum against his skull, a nervousness in that pressure and Manami wants to smile.

When he looks up into the face of a young boy, with a shock of dark brown hair, Manami knows this is what he wants. If he could speak, he’d whisper a small there you are, because it is his Arakita. The young boy one day grows into the young man he knew so well, with a harsh mouth and violent tendencies, but his love for his cat never dies.

Manami has that hand press against him once more, when they’re both older, and it still has that edge of nerves like he’s afraid Manami will break. Manami mewls and presses back once again,  closer to that warmth.

3.

After a while I give up trying to guess if the colour of your hair means anything.

Brushing the front of the skirt, Manami remembers one time a few lives ago where he had sprung Arakita in one of these. His body flushes at just the thought and he smiles to himself. But this life is different, and Manami is no longer all hard muscle, but sweet curves and longer hair again.

Now, Manami is female, and swings her legs freely, not caring for Arakita’s little remarks about seeing her panties (he’s seen far worse but he just doesn’t know it yet). In this life, Arakita wears glasses of a similar vein to the ones Sakamichi once wore. Manami thinks they suit Arakita a little more, and beams at said boy when he calls her weird.

Leaping down from the branch she had been resting on, Manami stumbles a little, taking the proffered hand the moment it was there.

Arakita wasn’t as loud in this life, and his hair was a shocking shade of red that the sprinter from Sohoku would’ve been proud of. Manami doesn’t care for that anymore, however. The shape of Arakita’s nose didn’t factor in when they held hands and there was that brush of lips against Manami’s cheek that had them both blush furiously. Once, long ago, Manami had tried to work it all out, line it up. Figure out what this meant and why he was never anchored. Now he knows.

Arakita calls her a name once more, but the tone is affectionate, no hidden malice. Manami laughs genuinely for the first time in forever and presses her lips against his once more.

4.

because even if you don't exist, I am always in love with you.

“Hey, Arakita-san, have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly?

“I remember how the other guys in Hakogaku used to say something about wings, but I never got it.

“Did you understand it, Arakita-san? I remember in one life you used to kiss my back a lot… you probably wouldn’t remember that. It was pretty cute actually…”

Sigh.

“Hey, Arakita-san…”

Fingers brush the top of a gravestone. He wasn’t even three minutes old.

“I never told you I loved you, did I?

“Just so you know, Arakita-san, I probably always loved you… It just took me a while to get there.

“I just got lost along the way…

“And arrived too late.”

5.

I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,

It’s 6.30am on a Saturday morning and Manami will keep yawning the sleep out of his system for another four hours at least. Leaning back, he rests against a solid shoulder, and would’ve gotten away with taking a nap had said shoulder not moved.

“Manami, wake up.”

“‘s too early.”

“It’s always too early for you.”

A little noise of agreement leaves Manami and he tries to bury himself deeper into Arakita’s back. How long had he been following Arakita to these ridiculously early morning games? Far too long. Since probably when he first tripped and fell face first at the boy’s feet at the tender age of seven.

Manami had later joked at fifteen he’d fallen head over heels for Arakita (earning him a few thunks to the head) but it wasn’t a whole lie. It hadn’t been the most spectacular way to meet Arakita - he had done worse - and he’d felt that thrum in his chest. That warmth that spread all the way through him but

Arakita smiles at the person who has just walked up to their little bubble, and Manami can’t help the look that leaves him.

At least, he sighs to himself when he’s home alone, he got to see Arakita growing up.

6.

when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.

At the age of 53, Manami had expected to live another life without hearing Arakita’s voice. At 53, Manami waved off his most recent patient (should he even call them that? he’s still unsure), not expecting much of anything. And at 53, Manami spied a huddled bunch in the corner of the waiting room, and felt his stomach lurch at the feeling.

Arakita didn’t talk. It took exactly 6 sessions to get him to even greet him. It took another 3 for him to start fiddling with the puzzles on the table between them. But one day Arakita comes in, eyes puffy and swollen, and it takes Manami a lot of willpower not to wrap him up in his arms and tell him everything will be alright.

Because Arakita is female in this life, and Manami knows the social boundaries that separate them here. Manami would’ve probably ignored the problem with dating a patient (probably, definitely), but when Arakita takes about abusive lovers, and the loss of a child, Manami stops.

He listens. Not once had he seen Arakita cry, and here she is, on her 14th visit, sobbing into her hands about how much she wants to die.

7.

I love how you play along with my bad ideas,

Arakita moans into his mouth, and Manami ignores the guilt eating away at his gut. How long had it been since he’d first been able to hold Arakita? When had they last kissed? Why had it taken so long?

This life is dangerous. This idea was bad, very bad, but Manami feels a hand press against him and he can’t help but keep going. Kept encouraging Arakita to “hurry, please, I need you.”

Arakita was getting married in exactly half an hour, and yet he was fucking his best man in the cloak room.

8.

before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas.

Manami is screaming, something he hadn’t really done before. The paramedics struggle to hold him down, but he needs to see, he needs to know. There’s a pain in his chest and there is talk about broken ribs and possible puncture but he just wants to see Arakita.

“Let me see him!” it rips from his throat, and yet they don’t. He’s pressed back down and strapped in, mask over his face and inhaling something that makes him go fuzzy.

Just before his eyes roll back, he sees another stretcher just on the far side. A sheet covered the entire length, and a guttural cry leaves Manami before he loses consciousness.

If only they had seen the car.

9.

(And in our times together I have many bad ideas.)

Lust is a terrible thing, Manami realises. It’s hot and heavy, curls his vision to a rose-coloured point and makes him unable to see anything else. Love, too, is terrible, and sometimes Manami wonders if he actually reached that far. Was he just in lust with Arakita, or love?

A strangled cry beneath him dissuades most of the fog that clouds him. It’s a breath of fresh air, really, but Manami is too far gone to really notice. Was it a bad idea to get this way? Probably.

His hands curl tighter still around Arakita’s neck as he slams into him once more, and as the whites of Arakita’s eyes shine so bright, Manami isn’t sure if he’d regret this moment.

10.

When we meet as adults you're always much more discerning. I don't blame you.

Manami had always expected that level of distrust. It was honestly what drew him to Arakita in the first place. Whilst the others had spoilt him, Arakita had always stood back and looked on. That simple action had made him seem so unattainable and it drove Manami insane.

After several lives, Manami is sure that is one thing he had taken through this whole thing with him. That madness and craving when those narrowed eyes judged him, broke him down into tiny pieces before putting him back together in a way that seemed real to him.

So when he encounters Toudou, a familiar person he hadn’t ever expected to see, and behind Toudou looms a different Arakita, Manami’s nerves coil, leaving him wanting.

That distance between them has Manami feeling hot and cold and oh god he wants nothing more than to run up to the man and kiss him senseless. It’s crazy and he misses half of the conversation with Toudou (if that’s his name in this life, there’s been so many names).

Arakita leaves him high and dry, but Manami doesn’t blame him. That itchiness doesn’t leave his skin and the flushes never cool, so Manami sleeps each night away with a hand down the front of his pants, crying Arakita’s name into his pillow.

11.

Yet, always, you forgive me.

He whistles an endless tune that has the young boy tense his shoulders and send him filthy looks. If he could have laughed, he would’ve, because a pink-nosed, blond Arakita was the last thing he’d imagined, but from his perch, he watches on endlessly.

“Stop that noise, will you?!”

Jumping, and subsequently ruffling numerous feathers, Manami sends the filthiest look he could, before continuing on in a softer tone. Arakita lets loose a frustrated groan, before walking over and shoving all sorts of kind of seed into the little bowl at the base of the cage.

Manami hops down, nips at Arakita’s fingers playfully for lingering a moment too long and ignores the colourful language directed to his poor feathered form. It seems he is forgiven, for as he eats, the back of his head is massaged gently, war wounds and all.

12.

As if you understand what's going on, and you're making up for

Manami twitches under Arakita’s touch. It’s a foreign thing the last few times. He’s only seen the back of Arakita’s head or nothing at all (another gravestone, another songbird in the tree), and he’s strung so high on tension he feels like he’s going to snap.

They are no longer the opposite gender, a different age, but themselves and it’s a rushed kiss in the locker room, hoping the Fukutomi of this life won’t catch them out. Manami kind of loses himself somewhere along Arakita’s mouth on his and a hand pulling the front of his pants down. All he knows is being pressed back against lockers and wrapping a leg around Arakita’s waist

It’s painful, really honestly painful, and Manami screams into Arakita’s shoulder until the pain subsides to something vaguely numb. Arakita is growling in his ear, half sentences and broken praises, but Manami doesn’t hear much of it, trying desperately to get some friction. It’s filthy and rushed but it’s what Manami has been longing for so since the beginning that he doesn’t even care.

The words tumble from his lips before he has a chance to stop them, iron sinking his stomach before he has a chance to laugh and take them back.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Manami never cried, not once, but he sobbed into Arakita’s shoulder for the first time in however many lives. Arakita held him close, and whilst Manami laughed through the tears at their situation, he felt like he was finally understood.

13.

all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn't exist,

For a while there, Manami doesn’t really live. Or well, he does, just not on the same plane as Arakita. But he watches him. Watches him be a man, a woman, a father, daughter, a dog, a leaf floating in the wind or a flower losing its petals.

Manami watches and waits, with bated breath, for when it’s his time to join Arakita at his side.

14.

and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.

People watching. It’s what Manami has become good at. Giving people stories as he watches them walk by. Like the granny with a blue rinse (secretly a rockstar in an all female band), and the struggling businessman (moonlights as a stripper).

And the sharp-eyed boy sitting across the cafe from him. He’ll go through a yankee phase, find a bike, a team, fix a hole in his heart that he didn’t know was there. And Manami won’t have any part of it.

15.

I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.

Maybe it was being confined to a bed for most of his childhood until Miyahara had convinced him to leave one day ruined something in him. Twisted what little innocence he had left into something disgusting, vile, dark thoughts that were better kept under lock and key.

So when Arakita comes at him with a gun, Manami does nothing. There’s something beautiful in the way Arakita stalks towards him, arm slightly raised, face taut. What little lighting there is casts a dark shadow over his face and Manami jumps a little at that look.

Manami dies that night with a smile on his face.

16.

But when all's said and done, I'd surrender to you in other ways.

Toudou used to mention Manami should follow his own whims like he always had. But Manami lost the words sometime ago, and the voice and the feeling. His own whims don’t matter in this, whatever it was. He’d rather go back to sitting on that hill with Arakita once more, even if he’d never get as close to him as this.

Manami follows Arakita’s orders blindly, from “go fetch this” to “suck me off”, because as long as those eyes rest on him, he will give as many times as he needs to.

17.

Even though each time, I know I'll see you again, I always wonder

Does he think he’ll see him again? Manami thinks yes. Even if it’s just a brief glance in the street, knowing that Arakita is existing alongside him gives him something to live for.

But, when it’s empty lives, and that coldness builds until no amount of layers can help him, Manami wonders why him. What did he do? What should he do to get out?

A hand takes his, and Manami realises he’s shaking. Smiling up at Arakita, he mumbles a small thanks and leans close. At least he gets to do this, he supposes, worries and all.

18.

is this the last time?

Manami can’t remember the last time he’d been female. Or when Arakita had. But it was some other twist of fate to end up like this, that has Manami thinking ‘this is it, this is how it ends’.

Regardless, she moves through it as softly as she had for the rest. Picks up Arakita’s hair and brushes it, styling it. Threading flowers and placing the veil upon her head. Fingers sliding over the slim frame to help the dress sit better, despite the old lady’s crowing how she can do it herself.

So, Manami clasps her hands, and stands back, letting others coo over the bride. Watch as that pretty pink flush fills her cheeks, and the gloss makes her lips shine. Manami turns to busy herself with other things, trying to forget her soon to be mother-in-law, and how in other lives, those lips were covering hers, how those arms felt around her waist…

How cruel life could be.

When they’re alone one last time, before Manami takes her spot as one of the bridesmaids, Arakita grabs her arm. For a moment, a singular pause in time, there is a look of recognition. It has Manami feel like she is suffocating, but it’s gone in an instant. Arakita babbles about how they’re going to be a family and Manami smiles weakly in response.

Any thoughts during the procession were definitely not of the familial kind, and as Manami waves the happy couple off, she sobs brokenly.

19.

Is that really you?

The Arakita he knew had a sharp tongue and little time for babied first years.

The Arakita he knew had narrowed eyes and short hair, a nasty scowl upon pointed features.

The Arakita he knew would drink only Bepsi if given the option to.

The man opposite him was every opposite of the Arakita he once knew, and yet he encompassed nearly every part Manami had searched desperately for, once upon a time.

20.

And what if you're perfectly happy

How many times had he seen Arakita smile for someone other than himself? Too many. It tore at him until he was bleeding. Broke something inside because all he wanted was that softening look, the slight raise in lips, to be directed at him.

But Manami steps aside once more, as the Fukutomi of this life takes Arakita in his arms. There’s a happiness Manami isn’t sure he’d seen yet, and whilst he wants to kick and scream and take it for his own, he doesn’t.

Manami leaves the bar at 3am, alone and for good.

21.

without me?

It had been so long since he’d been in the saddle, and climbed the mountains of Hakone. Felt the wind carry him and lift him further, higher. There was a freedom up here that nothing could take away. And yet, subconsciously, he swerved a little on one of the curves, and had to pause to calm himself.

That familiar chill was still there, on this spot. He vaguely recalls a car speeding around that corner over there. Remembers someone screaming his name, and hands on his shoulders trying to shake him. Someone was crying and Manami had smiled then.

He hears the turning of wheels before he sees them, a young Hakogaku team flying around the corner. Manami smiles slightly when none of them give him a second glance, probably figuring that he’d stopped out of exhaustion.

But he sees that familiar bike at the back and laughs. That determination on Arakita’s face was something he hadn’t seen in a long time.

At twenty-four years of age, Manami watches Arakita fly by him once more, but with an almost proud smile on his face instead of his normal woeful expression.

22.

Ah, but I don't blame you; I'll never burn as brilliantly as you. It's only fair

Once upon a time, there was a sad princess kept in a tower, far above the simple village below. Maybe it was out of the malice from her mother, or to keep her safe from those not trusted by the king, but she sat and waited for the day of her release.

Once upon a time, there was a dirty thief, who’d heard stories of a princess kept high above the ground. She swam in the sky, and slept on the softest of clouds. The thief dreamed of nothing more than to see this beautiful woman with his own eyes.

Once upon a time, the thief scaled the walls of the tower, and met with a girl who nearly pushed him back out. Her lips were curled into a scowl, and her hair was unkempt and ruly. There were no pillows made of clouds, nor were there the rubies she apparently kept, but Manami found himself facing the sun itself when the princess finally laughed.

23.

that I should be the one

It’s a chance to fix things, Manami thinks. He’s replayed his last days nearly a hundred times now. Seen every possible outcome to prevent it from going that way. His own passing is inevitable, he realises, after the fourth time. Manami didn’t realise he was the first to go.

But he signals to the others to slow, as they reach that corner once more. If he’s careful, he can already hear the squealing of tires. Arakita is right behind him, and says something about him being tired already.

Manami turns at the last moment, smiles, and pushes Arakita back.

The report the next day is one death on the mountain road, three seriously injured and two stablised when they reached the hospital. Manami Sangaku’s portrait sits beside the drunk driver’s, and there’s a memorial at the school. Manami isn’t sure if he’s still there, sort of hanging around, but he’s there when Arakita wakes up, and is told the news. Whilst he may never be able to bike again (“Sorry, Arakita-san, I’ll make sure you can next time”), it doesn’t matter to him.

Manami turned away before Arakita cried, because whilst he had managed to save him, Arakita was still alive, and he wasn’t.

24.

to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes

They’re in a stuffy classroom once more, summer classes dragging on. The teacher is already asleep and once again he’s still penning his name on the paper before him. Arakita is grumbling beside himself about this and that. Mostly about how his Bepsi has gone warm (I could’ve told you it would go warm, Manami thinks, amused), but also about how he just wants to get out.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Manami asks, after another ten minutes of turning a pen and hoping to find an answer.

He wasn’t expecting a conversation. Arakita of this life was so true to his own, and yet he wasn’t. Instead, he gets a bottle cap thrown at his head. “What does that have to do with the test?” The notes roll around in his head for a moment, before Manami sets his pen down.

“Don’t you ever wonder if dreams are past lives?”

Arakita stares at him blankly. “Are you getting too much sun next to the window?”

Explosive laughter leaves Manami, effectively waking the teacher, who goes on to yell at them both for disrupting class. Arakita back talks and they stay back another half hour until the teacher’s anger subsides.

At 4.30pm, Arakita turns to Manami, fear building behind his eyes. “Hey, Manami … do you think my dreams are of how I died?”

And, for once, Manami doesn’t smile. Instead, he pulls a solemn expression, and slaps Arakita on the back. “Don’t be silly, I was only joking.”

“Ah,” is all he gets, but it’s enough.

25.

until I find the one where you'll return to me.

When Manami wakes, he’s slid a few feet from where he’d first fallen asleep. The sun is still pressing down on his eyes, so he raises his hand to shield them. From the lack of noise, he assumed school had finished for the day. It certainly wouldn’t be the first, nor the last, time he’d slept through it all, but as he sat up and cracked his back, he had to laugh to himself.

Wasn’t it here, days before the accident, he had sat with Arakita? It was here he decided that he would probably follow Arakita in the end. The irony in that thought all those lives ago was not lost to Manami.

“You’re really weird, you know.”

The sudden voice startles him, and he turns almost too fast for his neck to keep up. Beside where he had originally laid down was Arakita, staring blankly ahead. It’s almost surreal seeing him alive and well (and still here, he muses) after the last few trips. Arakita takes another deep breath before turning to face him.

“I asked you a question once, didn’t I? If dreams told me how I died.”

“Arakita-san, maybe this time you’ve had too much sun,” is what Manami laughs, despite the cold filling him. Does that mean Arakita knew and travelled alongside him too? No. No way.

Time seems to stretch out, as Arakita continues to stare forward, seeing something Manami didn’t. “Maybe.”