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Hajime is seven and they have just moved to a new house near the river. The river is long and wet. There’s many parks. He has a new hat and a new shovel and new red shoes. He’s going to go to every single park until he knows which one is the best one to play.
When he gets to the first park, there is no one there. Well, there is two kids. One is an older kid swinging and wearing a pair of earphones. Headphones. Whichever they are. The other kid is making sand angels in the sandpit. The sandpit is red, square, and has enough space for two. He dives in, feet first.
It kicks up a wave of dirt.
‘Um, excuse me, hallooo?’ whines the kid, affronted.
Hajime looks up from the dirt cloud and locks eyes. The kid’s brown, brown gaze. He stares, and the bucket and the shovel fall from his slack hands to the white sand. The wind blows. His feet feel overlarge in his red joggers. He is aflame more than he is boy.
Then he sneezes, and feels normal, normal enough to stare again.
The kid is pretty, and very clean. Well, his shorts are dirty. They’re blue and stripy with different blues, and pinks and greens, and his shirt is a yellow polo, the collar all rigid and itchy. His face is round and shiny and scrunched.
‘What?’ Hajime says, enchanted. Then, when the kid only sniffles and doesn’t respond, he loses his patience and shouts, ‘What?!’
‘You got my socks dirty!’ the kid yells.
Hajime looks at his socks, white and striped blue almost up till his knee. They are covered in itchy sand. He pats the sand away. ‘There.’
The kid grumbles and turns away, curled up into a ball and sniffling and not making sand angels anymore. Hajime wonders if he’ll be fun to play and explore and bug hunt once he’s done being sad about whatever. But right now he has to test the sandpit.
He tests it.
‘AHHHHHH!’ shouts the kid.
Hajime stops stomping in the sand and looks at him questioningly.
The kid sniffles and stares at him dumbly. It’s all cute, like all kids try to be, the annoying ones. But this kid is actually cute, so he doesn’t have to try, but when he’s trying it’s super cute and it’s weird. Hajime feels his forehead hurt from it all and he snaps, ‘What now?!’
‘You’re being very mean!’ this bratty kid announces stiffly. ‘I came here first, go play somewhere else!’
‘But I wanna play here too,’ Hajime explains. ‘With you. No one else is here to play with.’
‘I wanna play alone,’ the brat explains.
Hajime kicks sand at his belly. ‘You’re not even playin’.’
The kid sits up in a flurry of sand and shrieks at him, incoherent. ‘Can’t you see, you silly kid! I’m sad!’ he says passionately. ‘I don’t wanna play!’
‘You should,’ Hajime says excitedly. ‘Playing makes people happy.’
The kid stands up. He’s Hajime’s size. Hajime’s excitement grows. They’re the same size! And the same age! And the cute kid is gonna play with him!
‘I am never gonna play with you,’ the kid sneers.
Hajime picks up his bucket and offers it to the brat patiently. ‘My name is Iwa Hajime. What’s your name?’
The kid crosses his arms and says, clear and high, ‘Hello, Iwa-chan. I am not gonna be your friend. So go play alone.’
Hajime shakes his head stoutly. ‘I wanna play with you.’
The kid’s coolness disappears and he wails and jumps at Hajime, and they wrestle for a bit in the sand. Hajime’s jean shorts and t-shirt are better for playing and fighting and he has his new hat on so he wins, and whoops gladly once he has the kid down and he can start burying him in the sand.
The kid spits fire and screams as Hajime tickles him. ‘You’re crazy, Iwa-chan! You’re attacking me! Go away, go away, forever!’
‘What’s your name!’ Hajime bellows. ‘We will play!’
‘It’s Oikawa Tooru and I will never play!’ he screams back, kicking up a huge storm.
‘Alright,’ says the older kid from before, menacing. They both stop wriggling in the sand and stare up at her guiltily. The sun is hot and loud behind her head. She’s holding her book as a makeshift umbrella.
‘Keep it down?’ she suggests.
‘Yes, nee-chan,’ says Oikawa Tooru meekly.
When she’s gone, Hajime sits up and beams down at the boy. ‘We’re gonna be best friends.’
‘Never in a billion years,’ Oikawa says at once, tossing his cute curly shiny curls.
Hajime knows they will. So it’s okay if Oikawa is crazy and says stuff like that. He’s still hanging around, anyways, so they’ll probably play later.
༄ᐝ ꕀ☼ꕀ ᐝ༄
They don’t end up playing. Hajime tries, shows him sand castles and dirt pies and ladybugs. But he’s least interested. In fact, he squeals and wails and calls Hajime, ‘Big fat bully Iwa-chan.’ But it’s okay, because he smiles one time, when Hajime says he can be king of the sand castle.
And when it’s time to go home, they start walking in the same direction. Oikawa’s sister walks ahead, holding her book and occasionally glancing back carefully. Oikawa follows behind her, toddling like a duck. Hajime walks with his supplies in his hands and a swing in his step. He smiles toothily every time Oikawa looks over at him.
‘Why are you following us, Iwa-chan?’ Oikawa eventually demands, fed up. ‘You can go to your own home! My house doesn’t have space for a big fat bully like you!’
‘My house is ‘dis way,’ Hajime says happily. ‘Maybe we’re neighbors. And we can play.’
‘We could never be neighbors,’ Oikawa says. ‘My house is an alone-house. We live alone. No. Playing. Ever.’
‘My house is a lalone house too,’ Hajime says happily. ‘I think.’
They’re neighbors. It’s a bit like the sky opens up, when he sees the second house, a bit away from his own new one. He says a hooray. Oikawa looks miserable. Hajime gives him a sticky hug and Oikawa squeals a bit, and they stand there struggling but cheek to cheek. Oikawa’s head is warm like soup, and he gives Hajime a polite little smile when Hajime backs away.
‘Say bye, Tooru-chan,’ his sister says.
‘Bye, Iwa-chan,’ Oikawa says sweetly.
‘See ya!’ Hajime hollers, and runs away back to his own house, which is not an alone-house anymore, not since a few minutes ago when he spotted Oikawa’s house right next to it, separated by a wall. He stares at the walls of Oikawa’s house from his bedroom window instead of cleaning up his shoes like okaa-san says to, and smiles. Then he goes downstairs and turns on the TV and watches cartoons.
༄ᐝ ꕀ☼ꕀ ᐝ༄
‘Hey. Hey Oikawa. Hey. Hey look. Oikawa look.’
‘What, Iwa-chan,’ Oikawa says wearily.
‘I washed my hair yesterday,’ Hajime says, grabbing his hair two-handed and yanking it up, shaking it around pointedly. ‘See?’
‘Yes,’ Oikawa says, eyerolling.
Oikawa is still mad about whatever. Hajime is not done trying though, and today he brought two buckets and two spades and two plastic forks from the kitchen and a little bug catching jam jar.
‘It used to have jam inside of it,’ he tells Oikawa. ‘Now we’re gonna fill it with bugs.’
‘Why in heaven would we do that,’ Oikawa asks.
Hajime doesn’t know what to say. He spreads his fingers, still a bit grimy from playing with worms after breakfast today. ‘To look at them?’ he guesses, finally.
‘I don’t wanna look at some silly old bugs!’ Oikawa says.
‘We can look at smart young bugs,’ Hajime says desperately. Even though he really likes it way more when the bugs are silly and bump into his fingers or spin around in a circle.
Oikawa makes a noise, grumbly and screechy and high. Hajime stares at him and shakes his head. This is gonna be tough work.
So they sit in the park the next day, too. It’s less hot, and more windy. The next day, the third day of Hajime knowing Oikawa Tooru the kid next door, Oikawa Tooru wears dungarees. Hajime leaps to his feet when Oikawa approaches the sandpit.
‘You—’ he splutters. ‘You’re ready to play!’
‘Who said I am ready to play?!’ Oikawa yelps. He crosses his arms and his feet are together, in these sparkling clean blue jogging shoes, like the ones in the shop Hajime had wanted but instead he’d had to get flip flops.
‘Well, you’re not wearing flip flops.’
‘When did I ever wear flip flops?’ Oikawa says, aghast.
Hajime shakes his head, impatient. ‘You’re wearing shoes and dungierees!’
‘They’re dungarees, silly-wa-chan!’
‘Who’s a silly-wa-chan?!’ Hajime demands, frustrated. And he tries to slap him but Oikawa hollers, ‘OWWWW!’ before Hajime can even make contact. And Hajime leaps back and says, ‘Whaddyou mean, OWWW!’ and he’s feeling real indignant, now.
‘You were hitting me,’ Oikawa sniffles. ‘’m gonna tell everybody in the neighborhood that you bully me. Bully-wa-chan.’
‘There’s other people?’ Hajime says, tilting his head.
Oikawa smiles and sits down, his little fingers pushing deep into the sand. ‘There’s my nii-chan, and my okaa-san, and my otou-san, and my obaa-chan, and my cousins who are babies, and my cousins who are ooooold. And there’s a lady who sews a lot so if you ever talk too much she’ll sew your mouth shut.’
Hajime frowns. And frowns hard.
Oikawa smiles up at him, cheeky.
‘So no one to play with,’ Hajime pronounces gravely.
Oikawa’s expression goes flat. ‘Yes. Nobody. Go away.’
‘Nobody except you and me,’ Hajime decides, and smiles, pumping his fist. ‘C’mon, Oikawa! Let’s look for ladybugs! Did you know there’s only girls?’
‘Why would I look for tiny flying icky girls!’
‘To put them in jars!’
‘I don’t wanna put girls in jars!’
‘I’m gonna put your brain inside the jar, Icky-kawa!’
‘WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!’
‘ICKY-KAWA! COME LOOK FOR BUGS!’
‘NII-CHAAAAAAAAAAN!’
༄ᐝ ꕀ☼ꕀ ᐝ༄
Oikawa is an evil little boy, Hajime discovers.
He fights with his nii-chan even though he’s way younger, he hides pencil shavings in his pockets, he made his sister do his summer homework, he called the ice cream cart uncle fat. He is always talking about the sewing neighbor lady and says she’ll sew people’s mouths shut, and he thinks Hajime’s bucket is ugly and he says Hajime has lice.
But Hajime really wants to play with him.
‘Oikawa. Hey. Hey, Oikawa, listen up.’
‘What new evil plan do you have now, Iwa-chan,’ Oikawa says, veering away.
Hajime steps back and glares. ‘It’s not evil!!’
‘What is it, just tell me,’ he whimpers.
‘Let’s do frog patrol and find all the frogs in the river,’ Hajime says, beginning to smile again at the idea. He jumps up and down and runs in a circle around Oikawa. ‘I have two baskets, two jars and a catching net! Let’s do it! Quick, quick!! Before ‘da sun goes down!’
‘No,’ Oikawa replies. ‘I don’t want to do this activity.’
‘Wow,’ Hajime says, impressed, coming to a reeling stop. His shoes make sand fly again but Oikawa is used to it by now. ‘School word!’
‘What, activity?’ Oikawa repeats, and smiles, rolling his eyes. ‘Hmph!’
‘Ack-ty-witty,’ Hajime repeats, nodding. ‘I know big words too. Like tongue eating louse.’
Oikawa shrieks and scrambles back, knees curling up. ‘EWWW, IWA-CHAN! AHHHH!’
‘Ahhhh, what!’
‘AAHHHH, why would you say that!’
‘We can catch them and put them in jars too!’ Hajime explains. ‘Then you’ll win against them!’
‘I’m gonna put you in a jar and throw it in the river!’ Oikawa howls.
‘Don’t be a bad boy Oikawa,’ Hajime warns, waggling his net and stomping his shoes in the sand. ‘Or I’ll get the louse!’
‘Bullying!’ Oikawa howls miserably. ‘Ahhhhhh, I’m being bullied!!!!!!!!!!!!”
This goes on for days. Days of Oikawa shouting and howling and hollering and screaming and screeching and occasionally talking down to Hajime like he’s a grown up. It is disturbing for Hajime. But the few moments of play are perfect and sunny and Oikawa is clearly the best playmate in the universe and it is all worth it.
‘Hey. Hey, Oikawa. Oikawa, hey.’ Hajime rubs his nose vigorously.
‘What.’
‘Wanna sniff some flowers?’ he asks, beaming toothily.
‘I hate flowers! Flowers are for girls!’
Hajime brings a football.
‘I have a broken toenail,’ Oikawa explains sensitively.
Hajime offers to explore like kings.
‘My ni-chan said not to go far,’ Oikawa informs tragically.
Hajime wears lame clothes like he does.
‘They don’t look good on Iwa-chan,’ Oikawa decides thoughtfully.
Hajime tries to ply him with chips and snacks.
‘Do you have wasabi flavor?’ Oikawa demands.
‘Yes!’ Hajime says excitedly.
‘Yuck,’ Oikawa says plainly. ‘I hate wasabi flavor. Get lost, Iwa-chan.’
Hajime has started to think of himself as Iwa-chan. It’s giving him a complex. His okaa-san asks him who his new friend is and why he’s so dirty and why he ate so many wasabi chips that he won’t eat chicken karaage and Hajime explains the whole issue over dinner, and by the time he’s done talking his chicken karaage has been stuffed bite by bite into his mouth by his sneaky mother and it’s all finished. His stomach is round and he pokes it.
He frowns down at it, poking again. Then slapping it. Then he remembers and looks up and asks, ‘What do I do.’
His okaa-san smiles broadly, cleaning up empty plates. ‘Tell him to come over! He’s just shy. Oikawa-san did say her son was a complex individual going through a lot right now… Ah, from that description I had assumed he’d be in his teens, though…’
‘Come to my house,’ Hajime says persuasively, the next time he sees him.
It’s sunny. Oikawa is wearing a yellow shirt again, and jean shorts. And joggers. And knee socks. And he’s ready to play, so clearly ready to play.
But for that look on his face. Sour like he ate a lemon. ‘What would be in stinky Iwa-chan’s scary monster house? Bears, probably. And bugs.’
This morning after toothbrush-facewash time Hajime had cleverly hidden all his best bug captures in a box under his bed and they’re all dead anyway so it’s okay. ‘No bugs,’ he lies.
‘And bears?’ Oikawa asks.
‘None of those,’ Hajime says. ‘We live by the river, Silly-kawa. There are no bears here.’
Oikawa, for once in the past month, looks completely astounded. ‘Silly-kawa?! How dare—oh, how could—but, who do you think you are!!’ he splutters.
‘Just come over and play,’ Hajime says, staring beseechingly at his shiny round face. ‘I have balls and toys and a car set and a train set and a little fire engine. If you press the button it goes red and says PEW PEW.’
‘I have five car sets,’ Oikawa says haughtily. ‘And three fire engines.’
‘Ughhh, Oikawa, you’re so hard to be friends with!’
But Oikawa comes over, against all odds. And he peers excitedly and nosily at all of Hajime’s stuff. And he kicks Hajime’s bed and says, ‘There’s crumbs on Iwa-chan’s bed!’ and then he sees the big basket full of Hajime’s footballs, basketballs, and other bouncy balls.
His head cocks. ‘Which one is that one?’
‘Which one is that one?’ Hajime parrots.
‘The white one,’ Oikawa says huffily. And he looks very curious and a bit pinched.
‘Ya don’t know?’ Hajime says, eyebrows high. And he smiles a bit. Idiot-kawa.
‘Obviously I know, I’m testing you!’
He looks pink and irritated and he’s poking the basket and Hajime takes pity on him. ‘It’s a bolleyball,’ Hajime explains smartly.
Oikawa looks grateful for the explanation, and he finally fishes it out and looks at it, feeling the shiny gleam. Hajime’s never touched it before in his life.
‘Let’s play with this,’ Oikawa decides.
And Hajime’s soul flies up into the sky, he’s so happy.
‘You want to play?’ he asks, suckerpunched.
Oikawa turns around and beams, clutching it to his chest. ‘Iwa-chan, let’s play bolleyball!’
And that is the end of it. They play for hours and hours and it is the best in the world. And Hajime thanks god that he went to the park and his house is never an alonehouse again.