Through The Looking Glass

Dekisugi often wondered about his own wonderland—what it might look like, how it might feel. The wonderland that Alice had visited was a realm of magic and madness, a place where the rules of reality bent like the whims of a playful breeze. He remembered being lost in his thoughts when he had first read the book, wondering if such a world could truly exist beyond the pages of fiction.

Living in a house that seemed to house more whispers of bygone days than living souls, the yearning for a place as enchanting as Wonderland took root. He envisioned a place that would be as vibrant and lively as fireworks illuminating the night sky, a haven where every corner would be filled with the essence of possibility.

The idea of a wonderland where anything could happen, where the ordinary could transform into the extraordinary—well, it was captivating to his past self who longed for something extraordinary. He spent countless nights dreaming of dragons and castles, of leprechauns and gold, or love and laughter.

Years later, as he delved into 'Alice Through the Looking Glass,' it stuck with him and echoed in the corridors of his own existence. The past, the book whispered, cannot be altered, but it holds within its tapestry the threads of lessons learned and experiences gained. And so, as the lazy afternoons of his own life stretched out like an inviting hammock, Dekisugi reflected on his life spent.

It wouldn't hurt to just breathe, would it?

 ✩★✩ 

On lazy afternoons, time meandered like a drowsy river, its currents sluggish and unhurried. The sun, a warm and hazy orb, cast its benevolent rays upon the world, bestowing a gentle glow upon everything it touched. Shadows stretched languidly as if in no hurry to leave their cozy corners, and the air itself seemed to exhale, releasing a sigh of contentment.

Amid this delicate tapestry of tranquility, the world unfolded at a leisurely pace. People ambled along the streets, their footsteps light and unhurried, as if they were strolling through a dream. Conversations were whispered softly, as if fearing to disturb the peaceful equilibrium that hung in the air like a delicate thread.

Nature, too, embraced the languor of the afternoon. Leaves rustled lazily in the breeze, their soft murmurs carrying secrets only the wind could decipher. Bees droned in slow-motion symphonies, their industrious hum harmonizing with the gentle ripples of time. Flowers nodded their heads in agreement, their vibrant petals swaying in a rhythmic dance.

Windows stood ajar, inviting in the soft caress of the day. Curtains billowed gently, a tender waltz between indoors and out. Pages of forgotten books fluttered, the tales they held seeping into the very air and mingling with the intoxicating scent of freshly brewed tea.

And in this ethereal interlude, the mind, too, yielded to the allure of idleness. Thoughts meandered like aimless wanderers, exploring hidden corners of the imagination. Dreams took flight on the wings of the whispering zephyrs, carried to realms where the boundaries between reality and reverie blurred and merged.

Years ago, Dekisugi wouldn't have even dreamed of enjoying moments such as these. He'd been too caught up in learning new skills, of becoming the best at everything. Too worried about the future to care about the present.

But he had grown from the young child that he had once been, and so these days, he found himself wrapped in his beloved's gentle embrace, swaying to a rhythm that belonged only to the moment. It was a time of restful surrender, a pause that allowed weary souls to find solace, to mend the frayed edges of existence, and to simply be—content in the slow, steady heartbeat of life.

 ✩★✩ 

Beneath a sky brushed with the gentle strokes of twilight, a tranquil scene unfolded.

The cherry blossom trees stood like ancient sentinels, their branches adorned with delicate clusters of pale pink petals. As a soft breeze danced through the air, it coaxed the blossoms to release their hold, and one by one, they began their graceful descent.

The falling petals moved as if suspended in a dream, caught between the realms of earth and sky. Each petal was a fragile masterpiece, carrying with it the weight of fleeting beauty. As they fluttered downward, they created a symphony of whispered rustles, a delicate song that seemed to resonate with the heartbeats of those who were fortunate enough to witness it.

The blossoms moved with a certain elegance, their descent unhurried and unhindered. They wove intricate patterns against the canvas of the heavens, as if the universe itself was revealing its most intricate secrets. Some petals twirled like dancers, their movements choreographed by the wind, while others drifted like whispered confessions, destined to touch the ground with the softest of sighs.

The ground below became a tapestry of petals, a mosaic of pink and white that captured the very essence of nature's artistry. Each petal found its place, as if guided by an invisible hand, settling onto the earth like a gentle kiss. And as they gathered in clusters, they created a soft cushion that cradled the earth in a tender embrace.

And underneath the shade of that same sprawling cherry blossom tree, Degisuki and Nobita found themselves in a cocoon of tranquility. The gentle hum of cicadas and the distant chirping of birds seemed to create a symphony of serenity around them.

Nobita's head lay nestled against Degisuki's shoulder, his eyes closed as he savored the comforting presence beside him. Degisuki's fingers were entwined with his own, their hands resting in the grass, a familiar sort of intimacy. The scent of cherry blossoms and the faint whisper of childhood memories lingered in the air.

With a contented sigh, Degisuki turned his head slightly to press a feather-light kiss on the crown of Nobita's head. He still found himself giddy by the fact that he could do this, that they had weathered the storms of time and had come out all the stronger for it. That Nobita chose to stay with him.

"Nobita," Degisuki murmured, his voice as soft as a sigh. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

Nobita laughed, his gaze meeting Degisuki's warm and earnest ones, his eyes softened. "Of course I do. You tried to impress me by building a toy robot. You were so cute, your little hands waving frantically when it almost caught on fire. That was not a great first meeting, mister."

Degisuki chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over the back of Nobita's hand. "I think it was perfect, it got me you, after all. And look at us now. Still together, after all these years."

A fond smile curved Nobita's lips. "Yeah, even after all my crazy adventures and mess-ups."

Degisuki's smile deepened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss on the corner of Nobita's mouth. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

They stay that way for a while, and sometimes later, Nobita reads to him the story that had started it all, way back in the beginning with little Alice, and Degisuki imagines the scenes playing out behind his closed eyes, lulled by Nobita's soothing voice.

The past had etched its marks on him, and taught him the beauty of moments that had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. It had sculpted his appreciation for the present, for the way the sunlight painted dappled patterns on the grass, for the songs of birds that echoed in harmonious conversations with the wind. It illuminated the value of cherishing fleeting seconds, weaving them into the fabric of his memories.

As he basked in the golden hues of an afternoon, surrounded by the delicate embrace of the world around him, Dekisugi realized that his own wonderland was not a fantastical realm far beyond reach. Instead, it was in the quiet moments, the gentle touch of sunlight on his skin, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was the understanding that, like Alice, he couldn't change the past, but he could learn from it, drawing upon its wisdom to infuse his present with the brilliance of wonder—his very own wonderland.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in hues of pink and gold, the falling blossoms whispered of hope, leaving behind a sense of peace that lingered long after the petals had come to rest.