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Ane Doki: After the Fourth Year

(This fanfiction will take place after the manga, but before the omake, simply because I found that ending truly unsatisfactory. This will be my own take on the events following Ane Doki. There's not much else to say, so please read and enjoy.)

The bus drew to a halt in a rather slow, weary manner, as if it was exhausted by the number of passengers it carried. That was rather strange, since there were next to no people onboard—just a few scattered individuals, taking advantage of the discounted rates offered by public transit systems during early afternoon off-hours. Just then, it was about two o'clock in the afternoon on a day late in March, when the weather was still struggling to rise from the shadows of winter and enter spring.

For that reason, the only one who exited the bus at that stop was wearing a long-sleeved, gray shirt with some sort of graphic on the front of it. It wasn't shabby, but it didn't have the sharp, crisp folds and maintenance that was demanded by school codes, and in that sense it was rather rebellious. What made the one who wore it look even more rebellious was the fact that he wore his hair long, long enough that two perfectly straight locks danced past his shoulders whereas a more voluminous mane reached down his spine nearly to the middle of his back.

He was a lithe young man, and the fact that he was just barely of average height—if that—would have made him a less than imposing figure if it hadn't been for the strangely off-putting aura he exuded without trying. As he made his way down the street, the few other people walking past him seemed to unconsciously draw away from him as if nudged back by some unseen force.

Maybe they were just put off by his appearance. Or maybe it was the detached sense of numb sadness he had about him that kept them away.

His face was neutral as he made his way through the streets, shrugging a strap of his backpack higher up on his shoulder. He looked around, sometimes, but for the most part he just walked in silence without doing anything in particular. The truth was, though, that he was doing far from nothing—he was trying to pick up on the sense of being at home that he'd not experience in four years, ever since his father's relocation had turned his life upside down.

His name was Ochiai Kouta, and four years ago, he'd been a somewhat awkward, somewhat shy, rather short, but often smiling, happy young teenager. Now, he was a seventeen year old who seemed older, colder and more removed from life than the bones of the Earth themselves.

Kouta's ancestors had been Japanese since before the idea of a Japanese nation had even existed, and for that reason, the entire Japanese archipelago ought to have been as familiar to him as the back of his hand. Sapporo hadn't agreed with him, though, and even now, when he thought about how much it had disagreed with him, he couldn't help but shiver in discomfort.

The weather there had always been too hot, too cold, or too humid, or too dry. The people had always been too friendly or too introverted, and everything else about the area simply didn't sit well with Kouta. He didn't know why, and he was smart enough to realize that if he were to verbalize his complaints about Sapporo, any reasonable observer would blink his eyes in interest, and then quickly but quietly back away from him.

He couldn't help it, though. He'd been born and raised in his hometown; throughout all the ups, downs, and inversions of his father's career and the very few years during which his mother had played a role in his life, that had been the only constant in his life. Being removed from it was like having a part of his body cut off, and now that he was back…

Now that he was back, Kouta wasn't sure what he felt.

The place had changed in the four short years that he'd been gone, and not just a little bit. Gentrification had done a number on the who area; four years ago, it had been a quiet little suburb friendly to families and children, but now, it was a place where young adults came to relax and have fun, and all that that implied. Nightclubs were already starting to operate by the time Kouta wandered by the blocks near his old home, and already, he could smell alcohol on the breaths of more than a few passersby.

That made his eyes narrow. He hated alcohol because of what it did to people, and what the people who used it did to the people around him. Just under his shirt was proof of alcohol's destructive nature, because sober, his father would never hit him. Drunk, however… that was a different story.

Kouta didn't recognize anyone he saw, so he could only assume that they'd moved away or that they were still on their ways home from school. It was almost four pm by that point, though, so it really was quite strange that Kouta only infrequently saw high school students pass by. When he did, he looked at them carefully, but not one of the faces in the street was the face of an old friend. Kouta was a stranger right in his own hometown, it seemed.

And that wasn't good. Kouta had always known that it would be next to impossible to find Natsuki on his own, but he'd hoped that by finding an old friend or something, he'd be able to find someone who knew someone who could get him in touch with Natsuki again.

And she was the reason he was back in town in the first place, he realized. He'd come back to find her more than anything else, but now that he was here… he was starting to realize just how hopeless his search was.

He wasn't going to find Natsuki. And since he also wasn't going to find anyone who could help him find her… well, what business did he have there, anyway? There was nothing for him there, except happy memories that were starting to turn bittersweet now that it became clear that the place his home had once been was gone, and the person he had once been was well and truly dead.

Kouta adjusted the strap of his backpack and prepared to leave. And that was when he saw her, leaning against a fence that segregated a park from the street, so distant and so beautiful in the early evening sunlight that she was more of an angel than a person.

Seeing her made him freeze where he stood. He'd changed in the past few years, there was no doubt about that, and so had she—and yet, she hadn't changed at all. True, she was a little taller and she wore her hair somewhat differently, and, true, she was now somewhat curvier than Kouta remembered her, but she was still the same old Natsuki. There was no mistaking that face, those features, so refined and exotic that they might have been sculpted by an artist. There was no mistaking that slight half-smile she wore when she was thinking about something pleasant, either.

He walked toward her without realizing it, and so, all at once, Kouta was within fifteen feet of her. He tried to speak—he failed—so he simply swallowed and continued to look at her. He'd never honestly thought that he'd find her, and for that reason, he had no idea what to say…

Fortunately, she absolved him of the responsibility to greet her. That was because she turned, slowly, so that she was facing him.

There was no surprise on her face. There was just an increased sense of happiness, of fulfillment, as if she'd known that he would be there.

"Kou-chan," she said in a soothing, soft, gentle tone that made him breathe in sharply, "welcome home. How have you been these past four years?" she asked.

She walked toward him then, so slowly and perfectly that she may have simply been floating. Her increased proximity made Kouta stare, for a moment, and then stutter as she began to walk around him in a slow, tight circle, looking him up and down.

"I-I've been okay," he said, consciously standing up straighter. "It's, uhm… it's nice to be home, Natsuki. How have you been?"

"I've been alright," she replied, standing in front of him once again. Now, she was closer than ever, and at this distance, Kouta could smell the nostalgic scent of strawberry shampoo that she seemed to use. He could also see the shadow of concern in her eyes as she spoke again. "But you haven't have you?" she asked.

Briefly, Kouta thought about lying. Then, he sighed, looked away, and began to speak.

"High school… hasn't been very good for me," he said. "I don't know why, but… even though I get good grades and try to do what I'm supposed to, the teachers don't like me. The students don't, either. I've already been in four fights this year, and I was suspended today, so… so I guess I'm sort of a delinquent." He laughed in an utterly humorless manner and then continued to speak, failing to notice that Natsuki had placed her hand on his wrist.

"It's not all been bad, though," he said. "I've… if you'll believe it, I'm actually a pretty good swimmer these days. I won a national competition a few weeks ago, and that, plus my grades, means that I won't have to worry about university."

He paused.

"At least, if I want to go to university. I'm not sure that I want to go to university, though."

"Then… where do you want to go, Kou-chan?" Natsuki asked.

He looked at her again and saw her eyes widen. It was then that he realized that she was holding his forearm in her hands—so dainty, delicate, and feminine compared to his—and that her fingers had made contact with just a few of the several telltale scars on his wrists.

He looked away again, tugging his arm from her grasp and allowing his sleeve to fall, covering his forearms, and his shame, once again.

"I'm not sure," he mumbled. "I never really had a plan… I've been living day to day, and the idea of meeting you again was… sort of a pie in the sky, like an impossible dream. I never thought about what might happen after that, because I knew that it was impossible."

There was silence for a few seconds.

"But here I am," Natsuki said. "You have met me again, haven't you, Kou-chan?"

"Yeah, I… guess I have," he said.

He then started to realize that he really had met Natsuki again, and that she wasn't just an aberration or a cruel trick his senses were playing on him. She really was here, right here, in front of him, and although he'd rebuffed her by removing his arm from her grasp, she was standing closer to him than ever before. And now, her hands weren't in front of her, they were in front of him—on the lithe, toned muscles lining his upper chest.

For a few seconds, she simply felt him, felt the strength in his body. She then manipulated her fingers in such a way that part of the tension in his muscles—and his soul—simply melted away, fading into nothingness and a sort sense of warmth that made Kouta shut his eyes for a moment.

"I'm still taller than you," Natsuki mentioned what felt like a long time later. "I guess some things never change, do they, Kou-chan?"

"I guess not," he replied, despite the dryness in his mouth. "You still have longer hair than me, too. Just… just barely."

Her resultant laughter was soft and high-pitched, a sound that he'd wanted to hear for a quarter of his life now. It was pleasant and unobtrusive , and asked for nothing in return. It was everything he had hoped it would be, and so was the sensation of running his fingers through the fringes of her hair. He'd started to do that to prove to himself that her hair really was longer than his, but now, he was doing it for another reason.

They made eye contact for a few moments, then, before Natsuki drew toward him and kissed him once on the lips. He didn't react to that, so, after a few seconds, she shut her eyes and kissed him again.

And this time, he kissed her back.

It wasn't a sexual kiss, although his hand placed themselves on her hips. It was a passionate kiss, though, but more importantly, it was a kiss that reversed all of the terrible situations and thoughts that Kouta had experienced in the past four years. It was a kiss that made him a somewhat shy, somewhat short, happy, smiling teenager again, and it was a kiss that opened up a new chapter in his life: one that would be written alongside the new chapter it opened in Natsuki's life. He found comfort, solace, purpose, and love in her arms, and for that reason, the past four years in his life would be a footnote to the story of the decades of life he was going to write with her.

(That's it. I wanted to write something very happy for once, but to make the end of this fic satisfying, I did have to put a little darkness into Kouta's high school years. I wrote this piece in one sitting because I was inspired by the other Ane Doki fic on this site, and I knew that I had to think of a better ending to the series than the omake provided for my own purposes, at least.

I hope you enjoyed reading this. Until next chapter… please review, face, and watch as necessary. Thanks for all your support.)