Chapter Text
Sunny Suzuki was twenty-two years old and a published author – and looking back, he had no idea how he’d gotten to this point.
All he knew was that he was now sat in a large, crowded library, surrounded by colourful children’s books of varying shapes and sizes all lining the vibrant walls, and was watching as a lady he didn’t know narrated his story to a group of wonderous, enthralled children. They gazed at the pages in awe as the lady turned each one, the illustrations leaping off the page and into all the kids’ sparkling eyes, listening in awe to the spellbinding tales of Omori and his best friends. The kids exclaimed and giggled in all the right places as the fantastical friend-group explored a vast and unusual world, full of planets and forests and picnics and underwater cities, and made friends with all the funny little creatures that lived there.
Sunny listened from the corner of the room, eyes trained on the open page that was being shown around to the giddy, babbling audience, and found himself feeling the strangest feeling he’d ever felt in his life. He couldn’t put his finger on it: it wasn’t sadness or grief, he knew those feelings intimately, and could certainly tell when he was feeling them. But he also wasn’t exactly nostalgic or prideful about his work either. And it wasn’t that age-old empty numbness either – he was definitely feeling something.
“And so, the four friends ventured onward, through the creepy, crawly forest,” the lady continued, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper as her gaze swept over her little audience. “Bugs scuttled through the long, winding weeds at their feet, and dangled from their sticky webs in the looming, pink and purple trees. Omori felt afraid, but bravely marched forward anyway. Basil was counting on them.”
One of the little girls in the group sat cross-legged on the floor stuck her hand up in the air, wiggling her fingers about with an air of impatient urgency. The lady paused and looked down at her with a kind smile.
“Yes?”
“Isn’t basil the leafy stuff your mom puts on your dinner?” she asked, head cocked to the side. A few of her friends all nodded curiously, and all of a sudden, fifteen wide, staring pairs of eyes were all trained on Sunny.
Sunny blinked, trying to quickly drag himself from his thoughts. He glanced at the lady with his book in a silent plea for help, but she was also looking equally as intrigued, smiling at him encouragingly. Sunny cleared his throat a little, tongue getting all dry as it always did whenever faced with talking in public. Still, he bravely marched forward anyway.
“It’s a funny name,” Sunny managed, as collectedly as he could manage. “I picked it because I thought it went well with Basil’s love for flowers and plants.”
The little girl whose hand had shot up nodded contentedly, then whipped her head around to ogle back at the lady and the book. The fourteen other ogling gazes followed suit, and the lady read on.
Sunny released a long, quiet breath until his lungs were empty, letting himself untense his shoulders. For the millionth time since his dumb little passion-project had picked up some popularity, he was really regretting not choosing different names for his ‘characters’.
“ ‘Eek!’ Hero cried, hopping away from a big, stretchy web and waving his arms all over the place. His little brother imitated him teasingly from behind, which made Aubrey laugh. Then, she shook her head importantly and placed her hands on her hips.” The lady turned the page, showing off the full-page illustration of the next scene.
Sunny remembered drawing that one – it had taken a long time to figure out all the precise details of Pyrefly forest, and the trees kept looking off. Turns out, not returning to your unhealthy, vivid state of imaginative denial in six years fogged up a lot of the memories of it. It had taken a whole two days of trying and erasing and trying and erasing before any of those damn leaves looked right.
“ ‘Stop messing around, Kel!” Aubrey ordered, brushing off a bright pink leaf that had fluttered down and landed on her shoulder. ‘We need to stay focused. We need to keep looking!’ ”
Sunny felt his phone buzz in his pocket and carefully reached inside to grab it, cautious not to bring too much attention to himself in case it sparked any disapproving looks from the horde of parents standing guard in the entrance to the kids’ section. Glancing subtly at the screen, he saw it was a notification from his mom. He was about to open it when the lady called his name.
Sunny startled and looked up at that sickly sweet smile.
“Another question for you, Mr Shibata,” she sung, nodding at a little boy sat at the back of the group. He fiddled nervously with his hands in his lap and couldn’t seem to bring himself to look up and hold eye-contact with anyone as he spoke.
“Um. Why is Hero still scared of the spiders if Omori isn’t anymore?” he mumbled, so quiet Sunny could hardly make out the words. But he could, just about, and he tried for a small smile at the little boy. He waited for a second, thinking about an appropriate answer, before opening his mouth.
“I think it takes some people longer to get over their fears than others.”
“Quite true!” the lady agreed, nodding fervently. “Think about it, children… who here is afraid of heights?”
About a third of the kids put their hands up, some meek as they sheepishly admitted defeat, and some that just seemed excited to be involved. The lady snapped the book closed with a flourish and leaned forward over her knees, eyes sparkling with a challenge. The kids seemed to lean in with her, entranced smiles splitting across chubby, rosy cheeks.
“Alrighty! Now, how many of you truthfully feel you could have climbed that huge ladder up into Otherworld like Omori and his friends did?”
Two of the hands dropped away from the crowd. The lady beamed as she stood up, propping the book up on the shelf behind her, surrounded by all those paper placards reading loose variations of ‘best-selling children’s story!’ and ‘Saturday morning story-time special!’.
“That was brave of you two to admit.” Sunny watched as the lady sat back down on her chair. Did she ever stop smiling? Working with kids must be exhausting. “But now you can see – while some of you may find it easier to work through a fear if its to help a friend in need, others may find it a little harder. And that’s okay, too!”
The lady turned to Sunny, gesturing to him warmly. Again, all those eyes latched on to him, and he felt all-too out of place amongst all these magical, pastel fairy-tales and scribbled, paper butterflies surrounding him in a tornado of childish whimsy; something he was pretty sure he had completely lost quite a while ago now.
“I think that’s what one of the biggest messages of Mr Shibata’s wonderful book really is. Coming to terms with your fears in your own time.”
Ha. She had no idea.
“Anyway! I think that’s enough for today.”
“Awww…” a rowdy little boy whined, dragging the sound out and drumming his knuckles on the carpet. He’d been interrupting and fidgeting and showing off to his friends the whole reading so far. “But I want to hear more.”
“Well, Jeremy, you will have to come back next week. Thank you, everyone!”
“Thank you,” Sunny agreed, nodding politely at parents as they smiled at him appreciatively. One by one, the children took hold of their parents’ hands and skipped form the room, some still babbling exhilarated about Omori and his adventures, some seeming content to just smile their way out of the room. He imagined that those quieter children – like that little boy who had asked about Hero – were a lot like he was when he was little, before everything had happened back in Faraway.
He still couldn’t place his finger on what he was feeling. It was sort of heavy, but not necessarily in a bad way. It felt like a different kind of weight. Like he was doing something important. Or wrong. Or right in a way that he hadn’t felt before.
In other words, he still had no idea.
“I want to thank you again, Mr Shibata,” the narrator lady was saying. Sunny snapped form his thoughts once more and turned to her, internally berating himself for still not knowing her name. This was the second week he’d sat in on these things, and he kept forgetting to ask her. “You really do have a way with story-telling, especially in such a way that the little ones can follow.”
Sunny nodded with a smile, wanting to open his mouth to thank her, but he could see that she was already raring to go on herself.
“I am so grateful that you’ve come along to these readings. It means a lot to this little library – and the parents too, I’m sure.”
“It’s no problem,” Sunny said, though honestly he didn’t know what good he really did. He just sat awkwardly in the corner, dressed in too many blacks and whites and greys for the occasion, and occasionally fumbled his way through a half-assed answer to an oddly eager question. He still wasn’t used to so many eyes and ears being all over what was essentially just a physical version of his old brain – it was jarring.
“Well, I hope to see you next week?” the lady said, hands behind her back as she swayed hopefully back and forth on her feet. “And… perhaps you’d be up for coming out for lunch with a couple of us here at the library afterwards. We tend to meet up after the early close on Saturdays.”
The idea made his skin crawl a little, but he nodded anyway. He hoped it came across as a polite ‘sure!’ Even though, it reality, it was more of an uneasy ‘probably not, but thanks for the offer.’
Before Sunny could go through the uncomfortable process of asking her name without the fact that he’d blanked on it offending her too much, she had glided from the room, humming a tune to herself. She almost seemed like a kids’ cartoon character, with all that endless joy and exaggerated happiness. Sunny wondered if writing and reading children’s books would one day do that to him too, before letting himself snigger at the mere thought and getting his phone out of his pocket again to check that message.
Mom: Hey, sweetheart! Just checking in, how is the reading? Is it just amazing to see all of those happy faces listening to your hard work? I’ve just sat down at the café across the road from the library if you want to pop in and say hello. Love you! Xox
Sunny slipped his phone back into his pocket and made for the exit. He winced at the sight of pouring rain outside, regretting his poor decision-making skills when it came to bringing umbrellas on rainy outings in spring.
The café was busy, but not too bad. The quaint interior was decorated with rustic looking, wooden planks adorned with hanging plants that draped delicately over the edges of their painted pots. Tables were dotted here and there, all full of people talking idly in the calm, universally accepted peace of the building, and the counter was full of an array of fresh, intricately baked little pastries and cakes. Sunny wasn’t hungry, but he’d be lying if he said the glorious smells didn’t make his mouth water, just a bit.
His mom sat across from him, looking out of the window at the raindrops racing down the glass with a satisfied air around her, sipping her coffee. She wore a thin, light green cardigan that hung loosely off her shoulders, and her bouncy, auburn hair was streaked with hints of silvery grey. She looked a little tired, but just as pleased with life as she always seemed to be.
The two of them had moved out of Faraway town and into the neighbouring city nearing six years ago now. Somehow, the constant, blaring bustle of the city seemed practically silent compared to their tiny hometown, where dark and dreary memories haunted every lazy day and the weight of distant friends’ laughter served only as a cruel taunt.
But here in the city, though none was forgotten, it felt fresh. And fresh, apparently, meant quiet; not even Sunny and his mother had a lot to say to each other, especially not anymore. But that was okay. Sunny was grateful for the comfortably unremarkable relationship he did have with his mother, especially after everything that had happened. He was lucky to even have a relationship with her at all. He was sure the truth would destroy her completely – but his mom was good like that.
She was strong, despite what all the teachers at his old schools would say about neglect and ‘shirked responsibility of care’. She hadn’t run away back then. She had been fighting for a better life, for the both of them. So Sunny didn’t mind if little café dates or silent movie nights with his mom were draped with an unspoken quiet. If anything, he enjoyed it.
“I’m just so proud of you. You know that, don’t you?” his mom said abruptly, interrupting said unspoken quiet that had settled once Sunny had come in and sat down across from her a few minutes ago. Sunny nodded, resisting the urge to look down and pick at his fingers like a bashful teenager.
His mom looked to him and reached across to place a hand on his with a gentle smile. “You’ve come so far these last few years – and to think that you’re attending readings of your own best-selling story book now! I don’t think I would ever have believed it, back then.”
“Thanks, mom,” Sunny said softly, looking down at their hands. Her fingers squeezed his gently, before retreating to wrap around her mug. She fixed him with a knowing, concerned stare that had him pre-emptively repressing a deep sigh, knowing what was coming.
“And as impressive as it all is,” she started slowly, leaning back. Her forehead was crinkled with worry lines that suddenly made her look at least a decade older. “You need to tell me if it gets too much, okay?”
“I know.”
“We can’t have you pushing yourself over the edge.”
“Yes, Mom. I know,” he droned, jaw set tight but trying not to sound too exhausted of this all too frequent reminder. He knew she was only looking out for him, really.
“Okay, just making sure.” She released a long breath that made her curly fringe flutter above her brow. “I love you, hon.”
Sunny nodded with a tight smile. He really didn’t have a clue how he had gotten to this point.