MAGICAL BOYS
SYNOPSIS
- hitherto still unnamed, a collab-ish thing with xiao not sure what happened to but unwilling to abandon;
- puella magi madoka magica universe
Name Fujikawa Takashi
Age Third year middle school
History
Fairly rich. Perfect son and student, plays archery, used to play soccer and baseball. Only child. Father is a politician. Mother crushed under the pressure, often told him about how much she wanted to die. Became a magical boy when his suicidal mother drove a car with her and him inside off a mountainside cliff. His wish was "I want to live." Unable to die, just keeps regenerating. Over and over. The type to kill an abused animal to end its suffering instead of bringing it to a vet.
Age Third year middle school
History
Fairly rich. Perfect son and student, plays archery, used to play soccer and baseball. Only child. Father is a politician. Mother crushed under the pressure, often told him about how much she wanted to die. Became a magical boy when his suicidal mother drove a car with her and him inside off a mountainside cliff. His wish was "I want to live." Unable to die, just keeps regenerating. Over and over. The type to kill an abused animal to end its suffering instead of bringing it to a vet.
FLASH FIC
A boy stands in front of him, a bright smile on his face, holding a box of novelty senbei crackers, which, from the packaging, appear to be shaped as frogs with thick lips looking vaguely melancholy. "Hi! My name is Fujikawa Takashi! We just moved in next door, hope you'll take care of us!" The boy then leans in, takes a strand of his hair in his hand, and asks, "Is your hair really pink?"
He stares, nonplussed - he's confused as to how to react appropriately, really. The boy waits for a few seconds, not seeming too bothered by the lack of a reply, then places the box of rice crackers into his hands, pulls his own face away, and walks away from his doorstep to the gates outside of his house. Suddenly, the boy turns back and runs to his doorstep again, panting, face red, and asks shyly (and from what he's observed, uncharacteristically), "I know your family name is Takamiya, but what's your name?"
Automatically, he responds, "Minori," and the boy brightens up visibly and runs back to the gates again, before turning around for the second time. Minori flinches, not knowing what the boy would do this time, but all the boy does, cheeks still pink, is yell, "See you around, Micchan!"
It's a bright Saturday morning in the last leg of summer in Minori's third year of middle school, and he thinks irrationally, "What's wrong with pink hair?" And then, he thinks to the nickname and gets even more annoyed, thinks to the red in the boy's face, and becomes horrified.
Later that evening, his mother asks him why the box of crackers from the 'nice next door neighbours who just moved in, the Fujikawas, of who she'd met Mrs Fujikawa in the morning as they unloaded the moving can and also ran into at the grocery store that afternoon and seemed like a very pleasant woman, albeit one who seemed a bit sad and lonely' looked like it had been crushed a little.
Minori thought back to that afternoon when the Fujikawa boy had called him with that nickname, thought about what he seemed like, and wondered if he would show up again the next morning.
His mother snapped at him to answer faster, and he reasons that even if he has a new neighbour, that can't possibly do much to make his life worse than it already is, so he figures that it's not a problem.
-
Predictably, the Fujikawa boy shows up the following morning, heralding his own arrival with the doorbell. His sisters are all out, so he has no choice but to answer the door.
The Fujikawa boy grins widely when he sees him. "Micchan! Do you wanna go out and play or something with me?"
When Minori looks at him, he gets a little angry. It's a sudden and unwelcome feeling. He doesn't know what triggers it. Maybe looking at the Fujikawa boy smiling so easily, carefree and happy, does him in. He says shortly, "No." The Fujikawa boy deflates (looking eerily blank for a moment).
Minori is rattled by the sudden change in demeanour, so he adds, "Sorry I'm busy. Maybe you can find someone else..?" At that, the Fujikawa boy smiles again, some of the blankness of his eyes slipping away. He nods, walks to the main gate, turns around and smiles, "Next time, then," before disappearing from sight.
The day after, the cycle repeats, and the next, and the next, until the last week of summer break where the Fujikawa boy doesn't show up at all.
Later in the day, he remembers that there isn't any other residence, particularly in this district, which still has children his age apart from his own. The previous owners of the neighboring house had been a fairly well-off old couple, just like most of the neighbourhood.
"I can't help it," Minori thinks. "I really am busy. I'm saving lives. It's my duty."
But he can't help but think of the smile the Fujikawa boy had shown on the last day before he stopped coming by, the smile he showed as he turned around to look at Minori from the gates.
His mother snaps at him for mooning about on the dining table instead of doing his summer homework.
--
There’s a certain pattern to the way his fingers tap back, forth, back and forth. He’s impatient, and rightly so. The teacher has been going on unreasonably now, having taken away the notebook he’d been practicing his math exercises in. He’s already proficient enough at History anyway, and the class was wasting his time.
He sighed, and looked out the window. It had been several weeks since Takashi had endeared himself to him. He had conveniently sat at the table in front of his, and his back was ramrod straight, actually paying attention to what the teacher was saying.
A boy stands in front of him, a bright smile on his face, holding a box of novelty senbei crackers, which, from the packaging, appear to be shaped as frogs with thick lips looking vaguely melancholy. "Hi! My name is Fujikawa Takashi! We just moved in next door, hope you'll take care of us!" The boy then leans in, takes a strand of his hair in his hand, and asks, "Is your hair really pink?"
He stares, nonplussed - he's confused as to how to react appropriately, really. The boy waits for a few seconds, not seeming too bothered by the lack of a reply, then places the box of rice crackers into his hands, pulls his own face away, and walks away from his doorstep to the gates outside of his house. Suddenly, the boy turns back and runs to his doorstep again, panting, face red, and asks shyly (and from what he's observed, uncharacteristically), "I know your family name is Takamiya, but what's your name?"
Automatically, he responds, "Minori," and the boy brightens up visibly and runs back to the gates again, before turning around for the second time. Minori flinches, not knowing what the boy would do this time, but all the boy does, cheeks still pink, is yell, "See you around, Micchan!"
It's a bright Saturday morning in the last leg of summer in Minori's third year of middle school, and he thinks irrationally, "What's wrong with pink hair?" And then, he thinks to the nickname and gets even more annoyed, thinks to the red in the boy's face, and becomes horrified.
Later that evening, his mother asks him why the box of crackers from the 'nice next door neighbours who just moved in, the Fujikawas, of who she'd met Mrs Fujikawa in the morning as they unloaded the moving can and also ran into at the grocery store that afternoon and seemed like a very pleasant woman, albeit one who seemed a bit sad and lonely' looked like it had been crushed a little.
Minori thought back to that afternoon when the Fujikawa boy had called him with that nickname, thought about what he seemed like, and wondered if he would show up again the next morning.
His mother snapped at him to answer faster, and he reasons that even if he has a new neighbour, that can't possibly do much to make his life worse than it already is, so he figures that it's not a problem.
-
Predictably, the Fujikawa boy shows up the following morning, heralding his own arrival with the doorbell. His sisters are all out, so he has no choice but to answer the door.
The Fujikawa boy grins widely when he sees him. "Micchan! Do you wanna go out and play or something with me?"
When Minori looks at him, he gets a little angry. It's a sudden and unwelcome feeling. He doesn't know what triggers it. Maybe looking at the Fujikawa boy smiling so easily, carefree and happy, does him in. He says shortly, "No." The Fujikawa boy deflates (looking eerily blank for a moment).
Minori is rattled by the sudden change in demeanour, so he adds, "Sorry I'm busy. Maybe you can find someone else..?" At that, the Fujikawa boy smiles again, some of the blankness of his eyes slipping away. He nods, walks to the main gate, turns around and smiles, "Next time, then," before disappearing from sight.
The day after, the cycle repeats, and the next, and the next, until the last week of summer break where the Fujikawa boy doesn't show up at all.
Later in the day, he remembers that there isn't any other residence, particularly in this district, which still has children his age apart from his own. The previous owners of the neighboring house had been a fairly well-off old couple, just like most of the neighbourhood.
"I can't help it," Minori thinks. "I really am busy. I'm saving lives. It's my duty."
But he can't help but think of the smile the Fujikawa boy had shown on the last day before he stopped coming by, the smile he showed as he turned around to look at Minori from the gates.
His mother snaps at him for mooning about on the dining table instead of doing his summer homework.
--
There’s a certain pattern to the way his fingers tap back, forth, back and forth. He’s impatient, and rightly so. The teacher has been going on unreasonably now, having taken away the notebook he’d been practicing his math exercises in. He’s already proficient enough at History anyway, and the class was wasting his time.
He sighed, and looked out the window. It had been several weeks since Takashi had endeared himself to him. He had conveniently sat at the table in front of his, and his back was ramrod straight, actually paying attention to what the teacher was saying.