I’m having a really self indulgent day so HERE’S SOME SUPER SELF INDULGENT FIC. There is literally no point in this except I’m being a feelings blob and projecting it on Haruka. 

The Letter
~800 words

Haruka figured it was a blessing the box arrived when Michiru wasn’t home. She wasn’t exactly the best at hiding things anyway, and she knew there was no way she’d have controlled her face when she saw “C. Tennoh” in the return address line. Her first thought was to chuck it. Throw it out unopened, keep the happy distance she’d maintained these past several years.

But she was curious. The unopened box would loom larger in her mind than whatever demon was stuffed inside.

She did not need scissors to break it open. If Haruka used too much tape to wrap things– and she was assured she did by Mina every birthday– her mother used far too little. There was a note among the crumbled newspaper packing, distinguishable only because her mother had used a red pen.

Haruka

I saw your engagement in the paper. I thought you might like to have some of this.

Love

Mom

Haruka felt relieved she’d written nothing more. No questions, no requests for a reply. It was just the bare minimum for Haruka’s mother to feel she had Done Something, and then they could both continue with their lives. That was probably the best wedding gift Haruka could ask for.

Still, though, there was the question of what she’d actually sent. Haruka lifted the first newspaper slowly. Nestled beneath was a wooden car covered in dinosaur stickers– Haruka’s first racer. She smiled at that. She’d forgotten about it entirely. Beneath that was an item more carefully wrapped. Haruka pulled the paper off gingerly to reveal a mug, the last remaining piece of her grandmother’s china set, saved from sale by a broken and glued handle. Something caught in her throat; Haruka had not expected anything actually thoughtful. She set it on the table with shaking hands.

There seemed to be nothing left in the box, but as Haruka emptied the rest of the crumpled newspapers she spotted an envelope at the bottom.

TO: FUTURE ME (Haruka) was scrawled in big letters across the front. There had been some assignment in middle school, Haruka recalled, to write a letter to your future self. She could not remember when they were supposed to open them. Now seemed as good a time as any. The seal on the back was already ripped. Haruka chose not to think on whether it was a teacher or her mother who’d read it.

Dear Future Me,

I’m not really sure what to say. I hope you exist, I guess. They said we’re supposed to talk about our hopes and stuff, so I’ll do that.

I hope you I you have a really cool car. Maybe you spent a lot of money on it. I hope you have a lot of money to spend on cars. I also hope you have a really beuti beautiful wi handsome h beautiful wife. They said no one would read these so I can say that. I hope she is more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen and she loves you a lot. And you love her. That would be really cool. But if it doesn’t happen I hope I don’t make you feel bad. Maybe love’s not for us you me.

I think I can count this as two paragraphs. That’s the minimum. I think I’m also supposed to say I hope you don’t do drugs, but I don’t care.

Sincerly,

Haruka (age 12)

Haruka was caught somewhere between laughing and crying. She found herself with a pen and paper before she could think it through.

Hey little buddy,

You might not believe this, but love is for us me you. I promise you’re gonna have the most beautiful wife in the world. I’m gonna marry her in June. Hang in there.

Sincerely,

Haruka (age 26)

Haruka read it over and picked up the phone. “Hey, Sets, I uh. I have a really big favor to ask.”

—-

“Excuse me,” a tall, dark woman stood up from the park bench as Haruka ran past. She stopped. “Are you Haruka?”

“Uhm.” Haruka eyed the woman cautiously. She didn’t look like anyone from the school, which was a relief. There was something kinder in her eyes than what Haruka was used to seeing in teachers. “Maybe.”

“I have a letter for you.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out an envelope.

“You what?” Haruka took it. TO: PAST ME (Haruka). “Is this a joke?”

But suddenly, the woman was gone.

There was, she supposed, no harm in opening it. She did, and read it slowly. It was a joke, it had to be. Someone read her letter and thought they’d have a laugh. They’d even mimicked her writing. Jerk.

And yet… she slipped it into her pocket instead of throwing it away. A little part of Haruka’s heart clung to the possibility it was real. She couldn’t deny, as she started running again, that she felt just a little bit lighter. Maybe, maybe, good things were coming someday.