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The blurry green of the traffic light infuses through the puddle in front of him in a way that reminds Rin of a watercolor painting. It’s cold enough outside for soft, drifting snowflakes, but not enough for any to pile up on the road. The sky is a light grey against the still slumbering city.
He’s on his way back from the supermarket, but what should have been a quick fifteen-minute trip has taken him closer to an hour. His prized daikon swings back and forth in a plastic bag in his hand as Rin waits to cross the street.
In the moment that the signal light changes, someone in a black coat steps past him. Snowflakes rustle in his wake.
A fierce longing makes Rin’s chest hurt, and he breathes in sharply, heart sinking as he watches the person walk away. Something about the long dark coat, the quiet fall of snow around him, feels achingly familiar. The intensity of the emotion takes Rin off guard, and the bag slips from his numb fingers as he blinks away the dampness of tears.
“Wait,” Rin breathes, “wait, who—”
He lunges forward into the street, only to stumble back as a horn blares at him and a car speeds away.
By the time he looks up again, the person is gone.
When he gets home, the lights in the monastery are already on. Maruta is sweeping in the kitchen, and he greets Rin with a warm smile. “Up already, Rin?”
“I had to go buy daikon,” Rin says as he hangs up his coat and scarf. “Before it gets busier.”
“Ah, for the osechi? Did we forget to buy some?”
“It’s fine,” Rin says as he holds the dustpan in place for Maruta. “I probably forgot to add it to the list.”
“Well, let us know if you want any help,” he says as he pats Rin on the shoulder.
“Sure,” Rin agrees. He’s always liked preparing for celebrations, but this year both his dad and Yukio won’t be back until New Year’s Eve. Yukio’s gone for a school trip, and their dad is off doing something as well.
As he cuts the daikon into thick, rectangular strips, his thoughts turn to what had happened to him earlier in the street. It had felt like…a dream. The certainty that he’d felt—the way that he’d known without any hesitation that it was important. It wasn’t real.
Rin moves the daikon strips into a neat stack to make room for the carrots. There are more interesting things to worry about anyway.
The last day of the year passes by peacefully, and Rin falls asleep watching the TV. He’s woken up by a warm hand on his head, playfully ruffling his hair. “Rin,” his dad says, “wake up Yukio. It’s getting close to midnight.”
“Oh,” Rin says tiredly as he stares across the kotatsu. “Hey,” he says as he prods at Yukio’s shoulder.
Yukio wakes with a start, and he squints blearily at Rin. There’s a tangerine peel that Rin forgot to throw away plastered on his forehead. “Come on,” Rin says, walking around the table to drag Yukio upright, picking off the tangerine peel while he’s at it. “The old man says we’re leaving soon.” When Yukio’s sleepy frown deepens, Rin clarifies, “Hatsumode, remember?”
“It’s too cold,” Yukio complains, but he comes along anyway when Rin bundles him up in his coat.
Rin and Yukio both end up dishing out a hundred yen to receive omikuji, but while Rin pulls a ‘great blessing,’ Yukio’s says, ‘bad fortune.’
“Maybe if we’re together more it’ll even out,” Rin says as he muffles a laugh to Yukio’s look of dismay.
The streets are fairly empty as they leave the shrine. Rin yawns and stuffs his hands inside his pockets, but a glint of light from down an alleyway catches his attention.
Rin’s breath catches as he sees a small ball of light flicker away, and like a moth drawn to a flame, there’s something compelling enough about it that Rin wants nothing more than to follow it.
“Nii-san?” Yukio calls, turning back to look at Rin.
“Uh,” Rin falters. “Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.”
He races down the street with the old man’s, “Be careful, Rin!” echoing after him.
It’s a lantern.
Rin freezes in place when he sees the person at the end of the alley. And that dream —no, it must be a memory—storms into the front of his mind like a fierce blizzard.
The air in Rin’s lungs turns cold enough to be painful. Snowflakes flood his vision, but there’s no way to mistake the sight before him. On the other side of the bridge, with a gun in his hand, is Yukio.
I want to be strong. I don’t need your help anymore.
The memory washes away, but it leaves Rin gasping for breath as he falls to his knees. He’s still in the alley, and that person is still there.
“Yukio?” he breathes. “Is that you?”
The orange glow of the paper lantern trembles, and that person steps close enough to crouch at eye level with Rin. “Nii-san?” the person who must be Yukio says, “how did you—” He trails off as his gaze falls somewhere on Rin.
This Yukio doesn’t look too different aside from the dark coat, but as the light of the lantern moves closer, Rin’s heart sinks. Behind the black frames of his glasses, one of Yukio’s eyes is a pale, icy shade of blue.
“Yukio, what are you doing here? You were just over there,” Rin says more urgently as he reaches for Yukio’s arm—only to freeze when he sees the gun in Yukio’s hand.
The cold irritation that had been present in Yukio’s expression dissipates, and he sets the lantern on the ground between them to holster his gun. “Nii-san,” he says softly, and there’s something gentle and almost fond about the way he carefully helps Rin stand. “I’m not your Yukio.”
He bends to retrieve the lantern, and the light reflects warmly in his eyes. “This is…well, time travel.”
Yukio’s still sitting on the park bench with his lantern when Rin returns with the toshikoshi soba that he bought at one of the food stands.
Rin passes Yukio a pair of chopsticks, and mutters a “thanks for the meal,” before digging in. “So,” he says around a mouthful of noodles, “why the gun?”
Yukio carefully picks up a piece of fish cake to nibble on. “Tranquilizers,” he says finally. He motions at the paper lantern. “You can’t see, but there’s a byakko trapped in here.”
“Byakko?” Rin sputters. “Like the constellation?”
Yukio smiles, and it’s one of the small but definitely genuine ones. “No, this is a little more substantial.” The steam from the soba fogs up Yukio’s glasses slightly. “They get lost sometimes around the New Year.”
“So, you came to catch it? And you went back in time?” Rin says, trying to hide his excitement.
“Something like that,” Yukio says noncommittedly. He stirs his noodles absently as he seems to make up his mind about something. “You know,” he says, “you won’t remember anything about this after I leave.”
“That…that’s okay,” Rin says as though he’s not disappointed. “You’ll remember it though, right?”
Yukio’s listless stirring stops, and he smiles again. “Yeah, I will,” he promises.
After Yukio takes forever to eat his soba, they wander around the park for a while before heading back to the monastery.
“I had this,” Rin says hesitantly, “this vision when I saw you.”
“What?” Yukio stops, and standing here like this, Rin can see that he’s really tall.
“We were standing on this bridge, and it was snowing.”
Yukio’s voice had sounded bitter and emotionless in a way that Rin had never heard before, but the dispassionate expression he’d had on seemed delicate, like it’d break apart any moment—as brittle as frost.
“You said that you didn’t want my help.”
Yukio sighs as he starts walking again. “It must have been the influence of what sent me back here. A remnant of it gave you a glimpse into the future.” His gaze falls, like he's seeing somewhere far away. “I’m sorry,” he says in a slightly hoarse voice, as though he’s apologizing for something much more—something that Rin doesn’t know.
“Huh?” Rin says, “it’s okay.”
“We’re here,” Yukio says suddenly as they stop.
The monastery’s lights are still on. They must have stayed up to wait for Rin to come back. “Come on,” Rin says, grabbing Yukio’s hand and pulling him along.
But then, Yukio doesn’t move. “Nii-san,” he says not unkindly, “it’s time for me to go back.”
“What? But everyone’s inside, don’t you want to go and….”
Yukio shakes his head. “This is already enough,” he says, but the way he’s looking at the monastery is distinctly wistful.
“Happy New Year, and thank you, Nii-san,” Yukio says softly.
There’s something different about Yukio, and it's taken Rin this whole time to realize it. Recently, there always seems to be an underlying insecurity in Yukio that Rin doesn’t know how to touch. But looking at this Yukio, seeing the warmth in his eyes, it feels content, and at peace—like maybe Yukio’s finally forgiven himself.
“Happy New Year,” Rin says quietly, suddenly overwhelmed by the happiness that settles in him.
A moment of impulsiveness has him rushing forward to hug Yukio, and if Rin squeezes a little too hard, Yukio doesn’t complain at all. The fabric of Yukio’s coat is soft, and Rin buries his face into Yukio’s shoulder.
“Hurry and go inside,” Yukio urges him gently. “It’s too cold, and they’re all waiting for you.”
“Okay,” Rin says, “see you later, Yukio!”
When Rin looks outside the window, the warm glow of the lantern is gone.
The first dream he has that year is a strange one. There’s a big, white tiger walking next to a lady with hair like vibrant flames. There are New Year’s decorations set up everywhere. It looks like a parade.
There’s a guy with pink hair, someone with a lot of piercings and a shorter young man with red-framed glasses. Following just behind them are two girls, one with long, silky hair, and another one who smiles bright like the sun. And next to Rin, is Yukio.
So, Yukio got to celebrate the New Year after all, Rin thinks contentedly.