Music in media: Rain To Be By ONEWE

Mother and son are usually connected in the most wondrous ways. For instance, Okaasan and I both suffered burns literal and figurative from hours ago and we're healing on our own. She's gone off with her colleagues to figure out the next step forward and hasn't come home apparently. By the way, because I had a great slumber, I can't tell you who won the argument between the No-More-Ivory researchers and the "living fossil bitches", but I can say my sleep is complete with sweet dreams. It might be due to the Rainbow Wing from last night that I'm feeling much better, though I wonder if Okaasan's Rainbow Wing truly helped or hurt her pride. In one night, Ho-Oh, the subject of their research (or ridicule, depending on your perspective) did give them the best outcome for their so-called hypothesis. At what cost?

I stretch my arms and yawn, leaning forward so my chest touches mossy railing and dewdrops. From what Rae told me when I awoke, it rained almost immediately after I slept in Matsuba's embrace, but stopped the moment we reached home. The dewdrops might just be the offsprings of that short rain.

A soft tap prompts the railing to vibrate and I let go, turning to see, contrasted against the green of willow trees and the grey and brown of misshapen boulders, Otousan in a brick red plaid shirt. He hands me a bottled coffee and places a limp hand on the railing.

"How you feeling? It was eventful," he says in his usual gruff voice, takes a gulp of coffee, rests a hand on my back.

I give in to a rigid nod, my veins twitching, especially the ones at my neck. The burn marks on my arms will take a while to heal, all because I hugged Flareon a little too tightly and was caught in the Flash Fire. With a tight-lipped smile, I tell him I will be alright, thank him for his concern and continue staring at the sky.

We're here to watch the first sunrise of the year, or hatsuhinode, Rae, Otousan, Meta and I. The observatory deck is free of charge unlike those hatsuhinode flights that lend a higher altitude and vantage point of not only the sunrise, but also Mt. Silver, which fervent alpinists hike up some time after midnight. This wide stretch we stand upon makes us content enough with its light winter zephyr and expansive view. Why look through a tiny elliptical window from a plane when you can take it all in whilst remaining grounded, right? In just a few minutes, the sun will arrive. We may not be closer to it than those other groups of people and Pokémon, but the light always finds a way to connect with us.

Hands are clasped together almost simultaneously when the first shade of gold sprouts from between Mt. Silver and the city of Fusube, home to dragons and dragon tamers. Wishes are made, for health, for prosperity, for good grades... For one, Matsuba doesn't have to wish to see Ho-Oh now that the truth's out of the bag. Also soaring out of the bag, far away in the Altar of the Sunne located in the tropical region of Alola, is a Cosmoem ready to slot itself into the altar and evolve into a Solgaleo, a ritual practised every New Year. The sun spins as Solgaleo flings it like a ball of yarn, rays like strings extending from its fiery core, grasping the world with its rippling light and heat, bathing the sky in orange and red while blue-tinged clouds speed off from where the Dreaming Altar is, shortly revealed to be Altaria and her clones orbiting the whole of Johto, and probably the world at large. Chills lick the short hair on my arms, my heart now a yin-yang of fire and ice in front of the prospect of happiness in this new year.

Who am I kidding? It's not the new year that wants to be happy, but us. I think it's a better idea to greet everyone "Beloved New Year" and save all that happiness for ourselves. Just like how Solgaleo is beloved but not necessarily happy as he is forced into evolution every year. Let's not talk about Lunala and their Moongeist Beam. Thousands of shadow selves have been created as a result, and alter egos are tricky to deal with as opposed to our authentic selves, unless we are less genuine than our projected images.

Why am I feeling so salty again? The reason's simple, if I could've just looked away from the telescope at the observatory deck so I will never have noticed that airship cutting across the mellow sunrise, a head popping out to ask about the supposed scandal I'm dragged Matsuba into. Then I wouldn't have to inform them with utmost politeness that this was never a drama, but an invasion of privacy and a compromised documentation of my life, of my friends' lives, to which we never agreed to in the first place, though still forced upon us. Satisfied with the plot twist, the airship drifts away with a flock of singing, dancing Altaria in pursuit of it.

"Oh, it's going down!" Meta gasps.

"No," I say. "They're going up to the Dreaming Altar. First human patrons of the year. And they better not return."

"Please don't blame your mother too much, Kyo," says Otousan. "She must be the more hurt now that everything she's worked on is gone."

She was happy while it lasted. She lived vicariously through me to fulfil her fujoshi desires. She didn't have to wait to give birth to a son for that when she could've married two husbands and watched them make love without her every other night.

I want to argue with those lines, as verbatim. Nevertheless, I hold my tongue.

Rae comes to my defence. "Okaasan came into his room when he was sleeping and took out her yaoi manga. Meta saw it too!"

Otousan balls up his fists and glares at the sun now nestled in the sea of clouds. "That's sensible. If she suddenly came home with a man, I won't know what to do."

Meta crouches at my side and whispers, "First day of the year and he thinks she's having an affair?"

I shake my head. "No, he means the worst case scenario is having him enact yaoi scenes with a stranger."

Meta turns to Otousan. "Are you scared the man won't be your type?"

Otousan's face darkens as his lips curl into an awkward wave. "I'm straight."

"That's worse. I thought..."

He masks his disappointment with overly strong laughter. "You thought I'm gay? I'm not as messed up as her."

So ends hatsuhinode, with a light banter between Otousan and Meta. Rae and I, the exemplary Aomine siblings, study the linguistics of their flowery words and array of emotions.

When one thing ends, another thing begins, as is the way of the universe. Hatsuhinode precedes hatsumode, the first temple or shrine visit of the year. We'll be visiting the temple again, says Otousan, guaranteeing that the monks will be understanding of our plight and still welcome us for the prayer and wishes. Let's hope that to be the case. For now, we watch the clouds spread out to invite a delicate fog. A droplet hits my nose. Rain falls.

"Poliwag!" Meta points to the slope as we run downwards, hands sheltering our heads just like everyone else because no one brings an umbrella. A group of Poliwag dance in the rain, slapping their tiny tails at each other's hypnotic bodies. Some swim in puddles, propelled by their tails, and others blow bubbles that contain tiny rainbows in them.

"Everyone's watching them," Rae says. "Poliwag are a rare sight here."

Perhaps it's their innocence that makes us dance in the rain too, to let past troubles slip through rather than pimple our lives, the cooling freshness of rain and the smell of natural cleansing bringing us closer to the nature we used to appreciate more. Catching sight of our jubilance, the Poliwag jump about with eyes squeezed tight out of pure glee and dart across our feet.

Today's going to be a good day. I pause and observe the atmosphere, a drastic change from hours ago when panic was infused into the air.

"I wanted to create a shelter, but never mind," Meta mumbles beside me. The two of us seem to be in a static dimension compared to the rest. Otousan twirls Rae around and they enjoy a long overdue father-daughter bonding time. Faces etched with worries lose their wrinkles to the rain one by one, laughter traversing the slope amidst the pitter-patter, mist coiling round us gradually, motherly, preventing any reduction of our happiness the way it functions in battle.

Maybe people and Pokémon aren't so different after all. We're all living, breathing creatures standing on the same earth, and on earth we're briefly gorgeous.

"Your wants are increasing in scale," I note.

"After yesterday, I think I know what I want. I'm the happiest when I help Transform the world, Transform lives. I want to go beyond Transforming myself, but the people and Pokémon around me. That's why I'm a Ditto." Meta's gaze flickers across the slope. "To give words, thoughts, feelings and experiences a second life."

The burning of the Ivory Tower has this great an impact on him, huh? To protect even the place most tortious and torturous to you, that level of magnanimity is unmatched. To turn something so impractical and escapist back into a state of acceptance and peace, from the Ivory Tower of illusion and wayward cravings to the Burned Tower of triumph through tribulations, of memory so hot and warm that will always have a place in the present. An appropriate second life for the Burned Tower, for Enju.

The first time, it was rain that saved the tower. This time round, it was a Ditto named Meta.

"How did you stop the flames?" The rain grows heavier as I speak, the people and Pokémon nonchalant to the torrents.

Meta manages a smile, as if he's trying to hide it before, but decides against it at the last second. "I told them, run in your rain. Because I felt that the flames themselves were seeking an end. They were waiting for rain like they did back then. So I told them, run in your rain."

Because they don't have to wait till the perfect conditions are met to start doing what they always wanted. The imperfect scenario before them will suffice.

"You became more poetic."

Meta laughs. "Must be the manga."

"As long as it's not those doujinshi of ours."

"It is. They're actually good."

I grimace. The Poliwag have evolved into Poliwhirl some minutes ago when we weren't noticing, the whole horde drumming their bellies to harmonise with the melody of rain. The people and Pokémon, and Otousan and Rae, grow more energetic.

"I'd rather live my life than indulge in a fictitious one."

Meta gives me a knowing smile. He smiles all day till hatsumode time when Okaasan joins us, gladly sober and ready to pray, and his grin flops.

"Not happy to see me?" Okaasan looks at him pointedly from beneath her violet umbrella. "But I'm glad to see you. I never knew you could be so useful." She turns to me. "Did you study the doujins? They are so many of them recommending the ways you and Matsuba can deepen your relationship."

If you think Otousan's presence was any indication of her toning down, you thought wrong. Rae, though, is a different story. In front of Rae, she pours all sorts of euphemisms out of her mouth, all of which Rae already knows but pretends not to, because "made love" is as blunt as "deez nuts", and yes, Okaasan says the latter in an attempt to be hip. With all this sensual talk, it's no wonder that reporters would flock towards us, bludgeoning their way through the crowd lined up for the temple.

"What can you tell us of the dating scandal, Ms. Himari?" A woman with bob haircut asks.

Okaasan shakes her head and half-covers her mouth. "Scandal? They're a real thing."

"And what do you think of the burning of the Ivory Tower?" A man adds before another man with nasty bed hair slips a "What do you have to say about the Fujoshi hypothesis?"

Like a professional, my mother evades the first question with grace and elaborates at length on the Fujoshi hypothesis, as sacrilegious as it may sound.

At the end of the interview, the woman says, "That's certainly... inventive! But does this mean you're jobless now?"

"Hohoho!" Okaasan straightens her head after a roar of laughter. "Why, so you can all celebrate the end of the Ivory Tower? It may be burned now, but the spirit of Ivory will forever remain. I will retire and be a housewife for my family. You know how it is in the working world, all work and no life. I must now compensate by spending lots of time with my family." She bats an eyelid. "Isn't that right, my darling son?"

Hearing her spit that nickname makes me nauseous. Still, I maintain a degree of civility in front of the reporters. Plastering an insincere grin on my face, I reply, "Right. She's a loving mother."

The reporters, satisfied with our answers, take their leave, no longer interested to disrupt our Hatsumode. I pity them, being out in the field instead of making their first temple or shrine visits of the year. Who knows what better luck they might lose as a result?

The throng thins out the closer we are to the temple. The monks greet us upon our arrival and guide us to the jokoro, an incense pit in which we stand round the joss smoke to be cleansed, a purification ritual before the prayer. We then head to the bell. After last night's Joya-no-Kane, I'm surprised Okaasan has the courage to ring the bell after putting a coin into the wooden box beside the bell, as if the bells weren't so ominous hours ago. I toss a 10 yen coin and pull the string, feeling the vibration tingling my fingertips as the metal sphere strikes the inner walls of the hanging bell. Putting my palms together, I bow deeply in a prayer and make a wish that this year will go smoothly for everyone, and bow again.

"Omikuji time!" Rae runs to the side of the temple where drawers etched with numbers in ascending order are placed. It's a test of luck from shaking a stick out of a basket of them, to choosing the alloted drawer based on the number on the stick, to opening the drawer and taking the paper slip inside, hoping the predicted fortune for the year will be a blessing. We pay a hundred yen each and retrieve our fated omikuji.

Meta goes first, out of curiosity, given that this is the first hatsumode in his life. "Tyukichi!"

Fair luck, a middle blessing. Sounds great. From the advice given on the paper slip, Meta raves about his awesome destiny of great health and direction in life.

Otousan and Rae pick their omikuji at the same time, both receiving the best of the best, daikichi, or excellent luck and great blessing. Okaasan frowns at her daikyo omikuji and shrieks as she scurries to a tree and ties it onto a branch, making sure it's razed by leaves, a practice to ward off evil and curses in the year. I go last.

Flipping my omikuji around, I catch a glimpse of the character for 'blessing'. It doesn't stop there. Mayhaps I was expecting a little too much so I'm disappointed to receive syoukichi, little luck, small blessing. Nonetheless, I pocket it as a lucky charm. Even if it's a little, it's better than nothing at all. We exit the temple, the peripheries swarming with popup stores and festive games.

We never stay for those, but we do visit the store that sells all sorts of lucky charms. Earlier in the morning, Okaasan had apparently returned the charms to a shrine to be burned, so we are here to get new ones. The omamori that provides protection and realises wishes, unlike the one for smooth-sailing career, is now replaced with good health, which is rather conscious of her. We pick a navy blue omamori for safe travel for Rae since she'll be leaving for Unova in a few days to study from the Normal-type Gym Leader Cheren who was a DexHolder assisting Professor Juniper's work. Thereafter, she will proceed to take on the Unovan League with her Normal-types. Her friends, however, choose to stay in Johto, so we can only hope the omamori will be useful for her.

Otousan checks out a white ofuda amulet, an equivalent to the spirits of the deities at a shrine, so to say, we're welcoming a part of the deity's spirit into our household as we place the ofuda at the altar for daily worship. Otousan leans towards the religious side which again reminds me to doubt his marriage to a woman pursuing science.

Of course, one doesn't buy an ofuda and forget about the hamaya, an arrow for piercing evil spirits, the arrow that the famous Decidueye from the Alola region wields, also to be placed at the altar. It originated from the old ways of fortune telling where people competed their luck for the year's harvest by shooting an arrow. Needless to say, those who had a Decidueye in their household truly lucked out. All three amulets, though, must be returned and replaced yearly.

We get dinner before going home, eating in silence, the tension between Okaasan and I gradually dissolving. It might be due to the amulets or her wish, but we'll never know for sure.

The rain finally stops when it's time to sleep, as if the sky, too, has grown weary after all the tears and sweat it's wrung out of itself. The year will go smoothly, I have a feeling.

Time will pass us by, tiptoeing behind our backs while tilting the sandglass. We later find out that Okaasan's plan to stay home is to avoid the reporters who want to know more about the Ivory Tower's deal with Meta and also the potential for a sequel given the open ending of a kiss between Matsuba and I. She never fails to stay cooped up in her room. Otousan goes back and forth the house and the brewery where business is booming, partly due to reporters wanting to sniff some info out of a tight-lipped man who knows next to nothing of his wife's wayward occupation. No one can save her from the reporters, and no one can exit the house, save for Otousan, and Rae who's left for Unova as the snow melts.

The month, uneventful and brimming with stress, breaks away at last from the calendar.

On the third day of February, I open the windows, only to be greeted by roasted beans raining from the sky.

Meta stares at the roasted beans and licks his mouth. "Is it finally dorayaki time?"

I sigh. Forget dorayaki, I want to meet up with the rest of the bois first.

"It's Setsubun, Meta."

Setsubun, the seasonal division, a festival held one day before the start of spring.

Setsubun, the day the world moves on from the whole ordeal involving the Ivory Tower.

Setsubun, the day marking the beginning of freedom Meta and I have been waiting for.

It's here.