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PROLOGUE
When he sees Akabane, finally sees him (not in the mirage of sand dune dreams and polaroid vignettes or through a screen but properly, actually sees him in person) it’s in Shibuya, late November. Outside the station. It’s 3pm. It’s getting dark.
It’s the first time he’s been back in 10 years.
And he sees him.
(Narrator: This is what we call ‘fate’)
Red hair is easy to spot from a mile away so really, his eyes just locked on to him but even Akabane’s gait hasn’t changed, a slight saunter as he gently sways side to side. A sign of flat feet. Gakushuu clears his throat and Akabane turns around and stares right at him, right through him. His eyes shift from surprise to recognition and then something that Gakushuu can’t identify.
“Helloooooooo.” Akabane greets, smile wide. His teeth are artificially white. American tooth white. His accent is still the same.
Gakushuu chews on the inside of his mouth until he tastes blood. All the words clog up in his throat, like one wet hairball. “Hello.”
“Good to see you, Asano,” Akabane sounds earnest. “I knew it was you because of your hair.”
“It’s just blonde,” Gakushuu snorts. “And anyways that’s how I saw you. You haven’t changed much from high school.”
“Aside from the beard.”
“Aside from the beard.”
He doesn’t tell Akabane he’s so much taller than he was in his dreams.
ACT I
Because it’s Akabane and only because it’s Akabane, Gakushuu allows himself to be invited to an impromptu dinner that night.
“Hey, it’s nothing major,” Akabane waves his hands around. His breath fogs up in the biting November cold. “Just a ramen joint out in Ogikubo. I was going there later anyways.”
The words come out on their own. “Ok.” Gakushuu agrees, nodding. And then, “Wear a scarf.”
Akabane blinks. “What?”
“You’ll catch a cold like that,” Gakushuu scowls. “It’s going to be our coldest winter yet. You’ll catch a serious cold if you don’t wrap up. You were sick every winter in high school because-“
“-Because I didn’t wear scarf, alright, alright, alright,” Akabane interrupts, hands at covering his neck. There’s a ring on his pinkie finger and Gakushuu can just make out a little scarlet gem set in the gold. It twinkles mischievously. “…I’ll wear a scarf if you agree to ramen tonight.” His cheeks are as full and as rosy as his hair. It’s shorter now, though. Buzzed at the sides. It’s fashionable, modern, chic. Suits him too.
Gone is that cheeky teenaged boy he wrestled for first place with. Gone is the devil child but all the same, it’s like Gakushuu has been transported back to those sun-bleached high school days.
The nostalgia is sickly. And Gakushuu, head buzzing, agrees.
With the sparkling, bright lights of Shibuya Station behind him, Akabane is illuminated, and his smile only grows wider.
They meet back at the station at 6pm. Akabane has a very fine looking dark green scarf wrapped around his neck. Gakushuu’s cheeks burn at the sight of it.
“It’s miserable when it’s this dark so early,” Akabane complains. He likes complaining- not that he didn’t as a teenager, but Gakushuu has realised the Akabane today complains as if he’s preaching. He turns to Gakushuu. “Don’t you think?”
Gakushuu looks up at the sky but since he can’t see any stars, it’s more like looking into an inky black nothing. Akabane is here, within reach, mere atoms away and yet Gakushuu’s brain flatlines, failing critically. He’s still in a state of shock, admittedly, seeing Akabane again. Surreal doesn’t even begin to describe it. He wants to reach out and touch Akabane, but he’s scared his hand will fall through him and this will all be revealed to have been a dream. “…It’s jarring for sure.” He eventually answers.
They sit next to each other on the subway, knees knocking against each other when the carriage takes a sharp turn. Akabane is speaking, over the sound of the rails screeching but Gakushuu can’t hear him, not really, so he just nods along politely. His mind drifts to Kunugigoaka.
The ramen shop is a real hole in the wall, even by Ogikubo standards. The menu has three options. Cash only. Gakushuu stands in front of the menu with his hands on his hips.
“I always get chicken,” Akabane advises, peering over Gakushuu’s shoulder. He’s taller than him, Gakushuu realises with a seething annoyance. “It’s the best.”
Gakushuu shakes him off. “I’m going to go with beef.”
“Loser.” Akabane taunts.
Gakushuu pays for his meal with his leftover change from the subway. Akabane palms them a crumpled note.
They’re led by a wiry looking man to a small corner in the back. Gakushuu lets out a snort as they weave through the sea of hungry customers. “If you’re trying to impress me,” He mutters in English, just loud enough for Akabane to hear. “It’s not working.” He says this icily but there’s no bark behind his bite.
Akabane takes his seat. “I don’t have to impress you,” He retorts, as he breaks apart his wooden chopsticks with ease. He’s smiling to himself, amused. “Your English has been Americanised, cowboy.”
Gakushuu gives Akabane a glare as he breaks his chopsticks and he can’t think of any smart, snappy response- he’s hyper aware of his accent now- so he goes on his phone briefly, replying to an email from a professor.
From over the top of his phone, he can see Akabane watching him. Studying him.
Their food arrives not much longer, served in damaged and unmarked bowls. Gakushuu blinks, tries to estimate the size of the dish with his hands. “I think eating this much ramen is impossible.” He balks.
Akabane laughs, a little boyish chuckle that’s equal parts nostalgic and hypnotising, like tv static and mandatory testing. “You’ve never met my co-workers.”
If he meant it as a joke, it doesn’t land. Gakushuu hasn’t met any of his co-workers. The home-coming reunion feeling wears off and it settles like a solid weight in his stomach. “What do you do for work?”
Akabane’s face falls, as if a balloon had been popped. “I don’t wanna talk about stuff like that,” He shakes his head. “Not when my good friend is here from out of town…. Uh…. How long are you here for?” The enthusiasm is forced and obviously so.
“Indefinitely,” Gakushuu grumbles, poking at a little bit of beef. His appetite has lost him now. “I don’t really want to talk about it either.”
Akabane only smiles, mostly in his eyes as he nudges Gakushuu. “Eat it before it gets cold, now.”
Akabane tries to convince him to go out for drinks after their meal, but Gakushuu vehemently refuses.
“No, really,” He says, shaking his head. “I have a train to catch, still.”
“When will you be back?”
“Unsure. The train is only 45 minutes, though.”
Akabane pouts, actually pouts, and puffs out his cheeks. “You’re no fun,” He jokes, fishing out his wallet and handing Gakushuu a cream-coloured card, with his name printed in gold. “Another time, then.”
He doesn’t ask where Gakushuu is going next. Gakushuu thinks he must already know.
Gakushuu accepts the business card, feeling the grain of the paper between his fingertips and waves Akabane off, who heads back into central Tokyo. Gakushuu stands outside and watches Akabane until the other completely disappears into the swarm of people.
The train ride is… interesting. He had never actually taken the train from Tokyo to Nishi Saikyo before, not with his life of private cars and chauffeurs. In fact, public transport was still completely new to him. Bus routes stressed him out, station change overs. The only mode of transport he genuinely liked was flying but that was because it meant he could travel alone.
He finds his seat on the train, by the window, making sure to get there early and fish out the headphones he had gotten on his flight into Tokyo last night. He had brought a book with him, an English translation of War and Peace, but it had sat at the bottom of his rucksack, looking sadly at him whenever he opened the bag to get a drink of water.
He thumbs open the book as the train leaves on time. He used to be able to read a lot faster but now he finds difficulty concentrating. He only manages a few chapters before the train arrives in Nishi Saikyo, creeping in as it just strikes 9 and if the train station is unfamiliar to him, everything else isn’t. He pays the map posted outside the station a quick look, mostly to ground himself lest he spew unceremoniously into a bush. The lone taxi driver sitting in the station’s taxi rank sees him and rolls down his window.
“Need a ride somewhere?” He asks, of course in that awful dialect that clips some of his words, a little more choppy than standard Japanese. His is particularly strong; he must’ve lived here his entire life, Gakushuu deduces.
It’s true that time heals all wounds, but some wounds are deeper than others. The scarring his father has inflicted here, in this otherwise unassuming commuter town means a line in the sand. Gakushuu does not expect any hospitality. He can only hope everyone saves their pitchforks until he’s wrapped up business here.
Gakushuu shakes his head. “No, thank you. I’m fine to walk.” Because Nishi Saikyo is small enough to be walked, the streets long and winding and ultimately, all roads lead back home. Especially in a town like this, easy to leave, harder to return. Even harder now.
He takes a deep breath.
He doesn’t ‘remember’ Nishi Saikyo and then he passes a corner, and it all comes flooding back. Highlighter fluid and freshly cut grass and the warm sun and the smell of burning asphalt. It’s familiar but in a way that makes his stomach flip over on itself. He almost regrets grabbing ramen with Akabane as he waits by a pedestrian crossing, the contents of his stomach swirling.
He can sense the house awaiting him. It looms ahead of him. It knows he’s coming. Knows he’s back. It stares at him tauntingly from the driveway; I knew you would come back here, to me. Blank with windows for eyes; emotionless and cold. It takes a good few minutes for Gakushuu to work up the courage to simply unlock the front door.
The lock is stiff, but the door opens. Gakushuu can hear his heart thunder away in his chest.
The house has the same chill, that sense of dread, as it did when he was younger. In fact, it was as he remembered it, albeit far dustier. Dust had gathered on the corners of the skirting board, on the stairs. Little clouds of grey. There was already so little life and now there is none. Now the house is just a building, a machine without any juice left in the tank. Abandoned. He feels like a stranger, a guest, a trespasser.
He also feels 14 again.
He goes around methodically, slowly opening bedroom doors to ensure there’s no one hiding, locking windows as he goes. He works his way upstairs, ending up in front of his old room.
Like everything else, his bedroom is the same as it was 10 years ago. Untouched. A time capsule. It was always quite modest and sophisticated for a teenager but to Gakushuu now, it’s a blight. A reminder of what was. Of what happened. The air is thick and stale. The bedsheets are the same.
For fuck’s sake.
Of course, his room isn’t all cringe. His junior high school diploma sits here, tucked away in its drawer. There’s a photo of the 5 Virtuoso’s tacked near his bookcase. A ticket stub for a movie Gakushuu can’t remember seeing. His old guitar, untuned and dusty.
He sits down on the bed briefly, surprised the mattress hasn’t collapsed in on itself. Then again, he wouldn’t be surprised if his father had secretly replaced the mattress some time ago. That seems like something he’d do, Gakushuu reasons as he feels the sheets between his fingers.
He sits on his old bed for 5 minutes in silence, just listening to the sound of his own breathing. He stares at the picture of his younger self. 14. Dark circles but bright eyes. 14. A smart ass but with the grades to back it up. 14.
He was just a kid.
The other rooms of immediate interest were his father’s bedroom and study. He stares long and hard at the bedroom door until his eyes burn and water and burn some more but ultimately decides not to open it. He can’t even hover his hand above the handle. The atoms making up his hand won’t allow it.
The study appears to be the same as he remembers, if not less daunting without his father. It’s cold in the room and Gakushuu shivers violently. The entire house was always cold.
It’s hard to avoid the elephant in the room; he sees the letter on the study, addressed to him only as ‘Gakushuu’. Manila envelope, perfectly in the middle of the desk.
Gakushuu.
He decides very quickly to leave the study, not looking behind him as he shuts the door firmly. He’s suddenly exhausted, as if the very last of his energy had been stolen from him. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He probably should eat something. But he doesn’t. He decides to retire for bed. He undresses, fishing out an old pair of pyjamas that are a little small for him and gets into his old bed. It still creaks how he remembers it.
He stares up at the ceiling, a profound sense of anxiety sinking into him. He wants to sleep but he can’t, it’s all a little much. Too much. He thought he would’ve been fine. That he could manage it. But he can’t. It’s just too much. The smell of the room, the feel of the duvet, the way his window allows him such a brilliant view of the moon. It’s too familiar, like he was only a boy yesterday, that he has school the next day and it’s too much. Stomach churning nostalgia, a fierce reminder of one’s past.
He shuts his eyes, really screws them shut this time and tries his hardest to fall asleep, counting prime numbers in his head, bedsheets bundled up tightly in his clenched fists as he does so. He is both too hot and too cold at the same time. Eventually, a dreamless sleep finds him and the discomfort and anxiety washes away from him, getting smaller, getting smaller, like the ocean retreating from the shore.
When he awakens the next morning, his stomach settled slightly, the house is quiet still. No car in the driveaway, the front door still locked. He’s still him, nearly 29 and back here. He stands in the kitchen in his pyjamas, as he spoons down some stale cereal he found in the cupboard. The box says it expired 4 years ago and Gakushuu chuckles to himself as he scoffs it down.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
With the break of day means Gakushuu can no longer hide from his responsibilities. The pit in Gakushuu’s stomach returns. He sets aside the bowl of cereal, half eaten, still stale and goes for a shower.
He brought his own soap. Unwilling to smell to like his father. The shower is a quick affair.
He sits in the office as his hair dries. He toys with the envelope. Goes over the handwriting.
Gakushuu.
Fucking typical of him.
He has to meet with his father’s lawyer at 12pm.
Gakushuu.
He gets a taxi and arrives at the lawyer’s office at 11:54am. He met Yamamoto once before, when he was 15. After Korosensei, to discuss media strategies.
This time is somehow infinitely worse than last.
His voice cracks when he speaks.
Yamamoto, who is now considerably older and greyer now (Is being Gakuhou Asano’s lawyer worth the money, Gakushuu ponders). He’s taller now so Yamamoto isn’t as intimidating anymore. He’s wrinkly and sun damaged and Gakushuu is not the same boy he was 13 years ago.
His smile is watery. “Your father is… well, as discussed earlier,” He has a huge wedge of a file in front of him. His father once said Yamamoto was an old college friend. “He’s stable for now but it’s…”
The unspeakable hangs in the air.
Gakuhou Asano tried to kill himself.
Gakushuu.
And now he’s comatose.
Gakushuu.
Motherfucker.
(Narrator: The last time Gakuhou Asano had called his son ‘Gakushuu’ was 21 years ago)
ACT II
“Of course, as I’m sure you’re aware, Asano-san made you his power of attorney,” He pushes his glasses further up his nose. “So, you have a decision ahead of you…”
Gakushuu’s stomach does somersaults. Power of attorney. His father’s life in his hands.
It’s like some sort of sick joke.
He doesn’t want to visit today. He doesn’t want to visit at all really because if he visits, then he’ll have to decide. He doesn’t want to see his father, unconscious in a hospital cot because he’s scared of what option he’d choose.
Let nature decide. This is what he hoped for. He could wait him out.
Yamamoto says if Gakushuu decides to end his father’s life support, he’ll have to go through Gakuhou’s estate according to his will. Because Gakuhou has no family other than Gakushuu, this is what he must do, Yamamoto says.
“And then there’s a question of the press,” Yamamoto sighs. “We’ll have to issue a statement if you make the decision to end his life.”
(Narrator: Gakuhou Asano, after the whole Kunugigoaka Affair and losing his tenure as Principal, subsequently avoided jail time in exchange for a house arrest sentence, of 4 years. However, his house arrest was lifted after 3 years, 2 months and 18 days. During this period, he began venturing in multiple non-profit organisations. His charity was appreciated, but many were sceptics, including his son, Gakushuu and his lawyer, Yamamoto. After his house arrest was lifted and legally a free man, he continued his philanthropic endeavours while starting a new career as a novelist. Most notably, he helped build 50 new schools for rural communities in Kazakhstan.)
Gakushuu might actually throw up. The words ‘end his life’ echo in his head mockingly. This is all too much.
He doesn’t actually throw up until he’s back at the house (nice!), but he does vomit in the hallway (yikes!). The smell is putrid; all acid washed dreams and hospital bleach.
After he cleans the mess up, he washes his hands thoroughly and vigorously and goes upstairs to his room. He unpacks his suitcase a little. Finds Akabane’s business card in his bag. It smiles at him.
He inspects it, faint flickers of recognition burning within him. Of course, he’d remember something as trivial as a phone number. And leave it to Akabane to just… not change his number.
Just for a second, Gakushuu thinks- Why wouldn’t he just text me?
Just like that and then the moment’s over.
Gakushuu swears to himself as he angrily scrolls down his contact list, not surprised that he never deleted Akabane’s number, with the contact still saved as ‘Akabane (School)’. As if he knows any other Akabane.
He doesn’t text him until later that night. Here, back in Japan, his days are always busy, packed tightly and organised but the nights were always his. Night-time is free time. It was the complete opposite back home, in America. He was already a particularly nocturnal thing and his job only exemplified that. Accompanied with the warm dusk of Northern California, he rarely found himself with a night off from work.
America seems so far away right now. He tries to imagine if everything was normal, if he wasn’t in Japan. He’d be going into the office. A coffee in hand, laptop in the other. Maybe he would greet his receptionist, maybe not. He’d be wearing his grey sweater, the one he got for Christmas a few years ago.
He finishes unpacking the rest of his suitcase. He feels like he’s staying at a hotel.
Akabane doesn’t text back immediately and when he does, it’s with an invitation out to Shinjuku. Drinks. Always meetings and appointments and time slots. Being an adult requires a lot more planning than even Gakushuu anticipated.
Right now, he needs a distraction.
‘I finish work at 8 today but I can get out by 7:30. Meet me by the station? You’ll see me.’
Gakushuu snorts to himself. Somethings truly never change, he thinks, as he taps out a response.
‘Sure. You’ll see me too.’
Shinjuku wasn’t overly familiar to him, especially after his years abroad. It had transformed, blossomed into something far more interesting and shinier than when he was a teenager. He had heard plenty about it, the ‘red light district’ so to speak, with its winding backstreets and shady, underground bars. In high school, he heard rumours of fellow classmates working there. But if he had been paparazzied there, something particularly common in his first year of high school, he would’ve suffered his father’s wrath.
The year after the Kunugigoaka incident was delicate; he was launched into the public eye because of his relation to the principal. Any publicity was bad publicity, so Gakushuu resolved to keep his head down.
Shinjuku was a press gauntlet back then. He could only visit during the day, disguised in some way. There, Shinjuku was about survival. But now, a good decade on, the public had, mostly, forgotten him. He had faded away from the Kunugigoaka narrative. The last article he had found about himself (in a self-hating Twitter search one long night) was written a few years ago, in a trashy, gossipy rag of a magazine.
That’s all going to change soon, he thought to himself. It’ll be like last time. Maybe even worse. He chews on the inside of his mouth, a bad habit of his.
Gakushuu.
Miraculously, Akabane shows up on time, saving Gakushuu from his own overthinking. He looks wound up, unnaturally stiff and awkward as he walks. Bad day at work?
“You’re on time,” Gakushuu states, rather dumbly, but in his genuine surprise, he can’t help it. “That’s a first.” He was always late in high school.
Akabane shrugs. Their familiarity is off kilter. Something hangs between them. Something unreadable and awkward. “I’m pretty good at keeping track of time now,” He’s just in plain white shirt and black slacks. His collar is crumpled, however, and the top few buttons undone. Missing a tie. “I’ve changed, you know.” He holds his hands out to the side as to exacerbate his point.
Gakushuu just hums in response. He has and he hasn’t and Gakushuu’s not sure which is scarier to him. He wonders just briefly if Akabane thinks the same about him.
Akabane takes him to a bar. Gakushuu doesn’t complain. He could use a drink. They’re not asked for ID, and he doesn’t expect them to. In this dingy, literal hole-in-the-wall, anonymity seems important. Gakushuu elects to call Akabane by his first name. Karma. It’s still as ridiculous as it was 10 years ago. In turn, Akabane- Karma- calls him Gakushuu.
Gakushuu.
Hearing his first name is surprising. It’s not often he hears it. He secretly likes the way Akabane says it, like it’s a secret for the two of them to share. It’s nice hearing him pronounce it, Gakushuu thinks absentmindedly.
He doesn’t remember how his father says it.
Conversation drifts. Topics like work and school are danced around. They don’t talk about anything real; just mindless gossip about people they used to know or brief dives of nostalgia into their academic studies. They’re talking but they’re not talking.
Gakushuu feels like he’s going to explode. He tries to talk his way through the unease. Deep breaths. “Back in the States,” Gakushuu nurses an old fashioned. The whisky here is better than the average American joint. Akabane stirs away at his dirty Shirley Temple as he listens, a smile on his face. “They call me Shuu.”
He doesn’t clarify who he means. Akabane doesn’t ask. They drink. They drink a lot. The drinks turn into rounds and the rounds turn into ways of one upping each other. They’re no longer rich kids with fat wallets and loud mouths; they’re rich adults with fat wallets and loud mouths. The barman lets them keep a tab after Akabane insistently hands him his credit card (a shiny black thing that’s not completely unlike his own).
A generic jazz playlist loops over and over and over. After 9, some flashing LEDs turn on automatically, illuminating a sign behind the bar that reads ‘crossroads’ in a fancy script. Gakushuu only assumes that’s the name of this place. The neon sign burns into his retinas.
Akabane drinks him under the table and then some. He’s drunk. Gakushuu composes himself. The whisky sloshes around heavily in his stomach. The bar closes promptly at 3am. Shit, when did it get that late?
Akabane is drunk. They chat outside the closed bar. In the middle of the night, Shinjuku is less populated. It’s a weekday. Dark and cold and cloudy.
Akabane is really drunk. He has both hands on Gakushuu’s shoulders, lightly shaking him. Gakushuu’s drunk too, too drunk to protest this absurd behaviour. But not drunk enough to forget.
“You came back here… for a reason,” Akabane talks. His voice is soggy, drowned out. “Back here… Ja-pan. From Amer-i-ca. Why did you come back A-s-a-n-o-chan?”
Then Akabane pukes. Right on his nice dress shoes. The vomit itself is bright red. Like maraschino cherries.
He slaps Akabane just because he can and then lets Akabane feed him an address for a hotel back closer to Tokyo for an Uber home. Gakushuu just pays the hefty fee (Narrator: He would send Akabane an invoice for this Uber 7 months later) meanwhile Akabane slurs apologies.
“I didn’t mean it, Asano-chan.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry, Asano-chan.”
“I know.”
“Are you mad at me?”
Gakushuu sighs. He already regrets this. “No.”
“Okay,” Akabane attempts to stand on his own. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Now, just be quiet till the Uber is here.”
ACT III
He still doesn’t open the letter. Not yet.
Akabane texts him the next morning. ‘Christ. I drank too much’.
‘Yes, I know. How are you doing today’?
‘Suffering in bed.’
And then a few seconds later,
‘What are you doing tonight?’
‘Don’t you have work?’
Gakushuu thinks about Akabane in his hotel room. He thinks about his old house.
‘Nah’
Gakushuu thinks. Akabane didn’t live far away.
He types.
‘Have you been to Kunugigoaka?’
‘No’
‘Really?’
‘I’m a busy guy’.
Gakushuu remembers what Akabane told him in high school. It was right after Korosensei and there was tidal wave of reporters in Nishi Saikyo. Korosensei. The End Classroom. ‘You don’t want to?’
Akabane doesn’t reply. He opens the message but doesn’t respond. Gakushuu huffs. He wonders what Akabane is doing in his room, all the way in the city.
He checks his bank balance.
‘Well. Okay. I’m going to go visit. Tomorrow night’
‘I’m busy !!!!!!!!’
Gakushuu knows this charade. ‘Okay. 10pm.’
‘BUSY!’
At exactly 9:47pm, there’s a knock at the door.
Akabane’s still in his work clothes. He’s wearing a tie today. Smarter than the last time he saw him. Gakushuu picks up the end of it and gives the fabric a feel between his fingertips. “This is nice.” He murmurs. Egyptian cotton, no doubt.
“It was a birthday gift from Nagisa.”
He remembers Nagisa. He remembers all of E Class.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Gakushuu attempts to play host as he lets Akabane inside.
“No,” Akabane declines, wondering around the bottom floor of the house. “It’s exactly how I remember it. A tour?”
Gakushuu exacerbates.
Akabane laughs, shallow. “Okay, okay. Maybe another time.”
Gakushuu brings a jacket. The door gets locked in silence and Gakushuu pockets the keys. At one point, Akabane opens his mouth to speak but his words fail him. Instead, he takes a swig from a silver hip flask.
Gakushuu frowns immediately. “What is that?”
“Vermouth. You want some?” Akabane offers out the flask. On closer inspection, Gakushuu can see the Latin ‘ad astra per aspera’ engraved near the mouthpiece. “It’s from a hotel mini bar. It’s literally all they had left.”
“No, thank you,” Gakushuu declines, holding up his hand. “I like the quote.”
Akabane smiles wistfully. “Me too. This was also a gift from Nagisa.”
Gakushuu remembers Nagisa because his guilt made him. A form of punishment. Sleepless nights turned into E Class had been burned into his memory, etched into the fabric of his being. When he thinks of school, he thinks of E Class. Obsessive, maybe, but all great Asano men were.
Without much talking, they walk a familiar path. It’s always been quiet at night. Quieter now. Occasionally a car- usually a taxi- drives by. They walk in silence.
They’re outside their old junior high campus because Nishi Saikyo is relatively flat and small and unfortunately compact. The old main campus building is the tallest thing in town for miles. A panopticon of his father’s design. The gate is securely locked up, plastered with tape and a sign that says the whole ground is to be demolished in the following summer. The words ‘NO TREPASSING’ are highlighted in a bold red print.
Gakushuu forgot the demolition was scheduled for December of this year.
Everything is a big bad joke.
He sighs.
Akabane idly scratches at his stubble, black unlike his hair. It’s a well-known fact Akabane’s red hair isn’t natural. Still dying his hair hot red even after all these years. It’s a miracle he hasn’t fried his hair off, Gakushuu thinks.
“Man, they’re gonna tear this whole place down? There’s totally millions of yen sunk into this place.” He turns to Gakushuu, quick on his feet. “Did you know about this?”
Gakushuu pauses, one, two, and then, nods slowly. His eyes dance all over the building until they sting. “I was the one who ordered it to be demolished,” He says in a voice a few rooms away. “…It needs removed.” He murmurs.
This he knows to be true. The people of Nishi Saikyo have long been tortured by the sight of the obelisk of Kunugigoaka Junior High. He understands where they’re coming from; the school is burned into his memories. He dreams mostly of Kunugigoaka. The corridors are burned into his memory, a hallway of mirrors that twists and turns and weaves itself into a terrible nightmare.
He dreams of his father. Of the Virtuoso’s. Of failing tests. Of Akabane.
Only once has he dreamt of Korosensei.
INTERMISSION- GAKUSHUU’S DREAM
Gakushuu Asano never actually met Korosensei while he was alive, contrary to popular reports.
He dreamt of him anyways. 4 years after he left Japan. Alone, sleeping on the couch in his Silicon Valley office, Gakushuu Asano dreamt of Korosensei.
They were in the End Classroom but how Gakushuu briefly remembered it from when he was a toddler. The cram school. Magnolia tones. He felt a slight breeze; a window was open.
In front of him was a tall yellow alien, with a huge grin plastered on its face.
Gakushuu knew him at first sight. Deep down, he knew as if he had always known him. He had never met him, but this was definitely the Korosensei Akabane had described. He feels the air leave his lungs. Weightless.
“Am I dead?” Gakushuu asks bluntly. Could this be heaven?
Could this be purgatory?
Korosensei giggles. “No,” He takes a seat at the teacher’s desk- in this time, when this building was the cram school and holds up a tentacle, a great yellow banana-esque thing, at one of the seats in the class. Gakushuu sits down, at the front. “This is your dream.”
“Why am I dreaming of you?” He frowns.
“Who knows, really?” Korosensei starts to write on the board behind him. “I read once in a magazine if someone appears in your dream, it’s means that they’re dreaming of you too.”
Gakushuu scoffs in disbelief. “Do you even dream where you are… now?”
The writing on the board says ‘The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog’.
Korosensei hums. “Not often. I’m with the dandelions now. But that’s okay. That’s just how things turned out,” He puts down the chalk. There’s 50 lines of ‘The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog’. “When I dream, it’s usually one of my former students. I dream sometimes of your father, even. But never you. If I remember correctly, I never had the chance of meeting you, Asano Junior.”
Gakushuu wonders how often his father dreams of him. “You can call me Gakushuu, um… Korosensei. You’re correct- we never met. Akabane told me about you.”
Korosensei smiles. “That’s fate, in a way. Some people in this world are never meant to meet. Like a bridge and the stream that passes underneath. Everything in this world has its own path. Me. Your father. E Class. You, included.”
Gakushuu thinks briefly of that year. He spent most of his time chasing clues, attempting to out-thwart his father. The year everything changed, again.
If he had met Korosensei then, 14 and angry and with nothing to live for and nothing to lose, what would he have done? Akabane said he was very fast. Would Gakushuu have been quicker?
Would he have killed him for his pride or for his father’s?
“What do you get up to now?” Korosensei inquires. “I’m guessing you don’t work in education.”
(Narrator: As a result of the Kunugigoaka Affair, a small minority of teachers (named Asano) but not related to or affiliated with *the* Gakuhou Asano found their contracted hours reduced and student numbers decline. Eventually, they were terminated from their places of work- nurseries, universities, prep schools and even one veterinarian. They campaigned this discrimination in the courts and won their case. Gakuhou Asano wrote to the head of the campaign itself- one Professor Asano of Chinese History- and congratulated them on their legal victory. Professor Asano did not return Gakuhou’s letter)
Gakushuu feels his cheeks burn. “I work, in technology. Data systems. Information handling,” He rattles off. “I just graduated from MIT.”
Korosensei laughs again. “Amazing! Let me guess- valedictorian?”
“Naturally. Akabane really is the only person who been able to match my academic level.” Gakushuu wonders if Akabane ever dreams of Korosensei.
“It makes me proud to see how all Kunugigoaka students are succeeding. It makes me think I did something right.”
Gakushuu blinks. He’s not entirely sure if this is because he hasn’t slept in a week.
Is this really a dream?
“When I dream of your father, he speaks of you.”
Gakushuu’s taken aback. “…We don’t really speak much,” He lies. They never talk. Gakushuu wonders what his father knows about him. “What does he say?”
“That, I can’t tell you.”
Gakushuu frowns. “What can you tell me?”
Korosensei’s smile grows thin. “Only to cherish the time you have with him.”
Gakushuu Asano then woke up.
Akabane’s face softens, if only for a brief moment before looking away, at the main campus building. “….What’s gonna get built here?” He asks but there’s no emotion in his voice.
“I have no clue,” Gakushuu chews on his bottom lip. The silence is suffocating. There’s a suffocating buzz in his ear. “…Could I have some vermouth?”
Akabane’s quiet and for a moment, Gakushuu thinks he hasn’t heard him but then he’s handing the flask over. “Okay.” Is all he says.
Gakushuu takes a long swig, mostly focusing on trying to keep the liquor down. He’s reminded of how much he hates vermouth. He swallows, winces and hands the flask back to Akabane, who only smiles and tells Gakushuu he has a plan.
The vermouth burns the back of his throat, like pure unfiltered electricity and fiery brimstone dancing down his spinal cord. It’s tart and strong and akin to paint stripper but the buzz Gakushuu gets is instantaneous.
Gakushuu asks, “What’s your plan?”
“Well.”
They jump the fence with ease. Gakushuu hasn’t bouldered in a while (really, he hasn’t done a lot in a while), which is what he tells himself when Akabane is twice as fast as him to climb over.
They hike up the hill to where the End Classroom is. Maybe it’s his age or the nostalgia that weighs heavy in his legs that makes it far steeper than he remembered it being. Granted, Gakushuu never travelled to the E Classroom much, but he remembers the hill, always that hill.
His thighs burn and scream at him.
Akabane seems unaffected, going off of his appearance as he puffs his cheeks out. There’s a good colour in them, light pink. He turns and looks behind at Gakushuu, who bunches up his trousers to allow more mobility.
“Doth fair lady need a hand?” He asks, in a naseauting Victorian accent. It annoys Gakushuu that Akabane can just raise his voice that high pitched. It annoys Gakushuu even more that Akabane’s capable of climbing such a steep hill in such tight trousers.
He’s always been able to get under Gakushuu’s skin.
Gakushuu scowls, turning up his nose. “Piss off.” He barks, with no bite behind his words as he quickens his pace, overtaking Akabane, who just chuckles.
It turns into a race, which is really not surprisingly given the two of them, but it just means that both are left panting at the top, foreheads tacky with sweat. Akabane won, but just barely. Despite of all his diet plans, he’s not the same athlete as he was when he was 14.
“I…think I….have a….stitch?!” Gakushuu exclaims through painful sounding wheezes, mostly out of shock. He had overestimated his athleticism. Note to self: gym.
Akabane laughs a little but it’s off somehow, unnatural. Different. “I can’t believe I used to do that twice every day,” He holds his side, stretching as he talks. With his growth spurt, Akabane grew into himself. Not lanky and all beanpole like he was back when they were younger but tall. No longer lanky. “With a school bag and all.”
Gakushuu coughs, hearty and dry. It tickles the back of his throat. “Do not stand there and act like you were at school every day, on time,” He chastises, somewhat good naturedly. “With your attendance, it was more like… three times a week and that’s being generous.”
Akabane rolls his eyes, huffing slightly. “My apologies, Class Prez.”
Class Prez. Gakushuu hasn’t heard that nickname in a long time.
He scowls and splutters an amalgamation of curse words, before suggesting they sit inside the actual building, but Akabane shakes his head adamantly, mumbling something about how he can’t.
“I don’t think…” He trails off. “I can’t go there. Not yet,” He pauses, tapping his foot rapidly. “Hey! How about the roof?”
Against his better judgement, Gakushuu agrees to the roof. He’s here, at Kunugigoaka, at the End Classroom with Karma fucking Akabane. He’s like Alice in Wonderland, following this red Cheshire cat around despite his doubts.
“The roof,” He breathes, blinking. “After you.”
He watches as Akabane shimmies along the gutter to try work his way up, but his hand misses and he stumbles. He swings a shaky leg up and to his credit, gets himself onto the roof, if not dishevelled. Gakushuu, watching all of this from the ground with a judgemental eye, just crosses his arms.
Akabane notices the other’s look and makes a face. “Trust me, this way totally works. I used to go this way all the time when we were at school.”
Gakushuu doesn’t doubt that. “Just so you know, this is the most moronic way of climbing anything ever,” Gakushuu deadpans because he seriously doubts this shabby roof is safe. “How can one man be so skilled at climbing trees and fail so badly when presented with a building,” His own joke makes him chuckle, so he continues on. “Who knew your weakness was any building the same size as a cottage?”
Akabane ceremoniously flips Gakushuu off, still like a firecracker, as he catches his breath. “Well, yeah, look. I’m up now,” He rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself up, his hair untidy. “And now I get the joy of watching you struggle to get up here.”
Gakushuu claps his hands together, smile widening. “Oh, just you watch.” He taunts, taking a few steps back. He starts to run, a quick controlled pace before jumping, using the height and momentum to easily latch onto the gutter railing. With little difficulty, Gakushuu pushes himself up onto the roof, utilising his upper body strength to pull himself up.
“Fuck you,” Akabane exclaims in English but there’s a large grin on his face. Toothy. “Bastard!”
Gakushuu feels like telling Akabane to keep his voice down, but he’s certain the site is unmanned at night. No one in Nishi Saikyo even wants to trespass here. Not even delinquent teenagers. The hype around Kunugigoaka had long disappeared and now, only the pain remained. Nearly 14 years on from the Korosensei incident and even the American sensationalist youtubers looking for an easy video were bored of it.
It had been forgotten. The world had, despite everything, moved on.
He could never forget.
He shakes his head- away from sickly thoughts- and, instead, outstretches his palm, patting the section of roof around him in an attempt to ground himself. His hands, he manages to keep somewhat steady. “Is this even stable enough for us to be up here?” He asks as he carefully gets to his feet, legs shaking. “If I fall through this roof, then so help me…”
He can hear his own heartbeat.
Akabane shrugs. If he notices something is up, he doesn’t say anything. “Probably…? I don’t know,” He taps at the thatching with his foot and gives Gakushuu a look. Seems sturdy enough. Then, as if a lightbulb appeared over his head, “You did gymnastics, didn’t you?”
“Yes…” Gakushuu answers, steadily climbing to the peak of the roof. It gives a great view of Nishi Saikyo, rolling hills of buildings and suburbs and parks and cars. It would be pretty, almost, if it wasn’t Nishi Saikyo. Akabane stands next to him, staring off into the distance.
“You remembered that?” Gakushuu gawks, hands on his hips, incredulous.
Akabane smiles tightly. “Not everything,” He sighs. “Hmm…Competition level?” Akabane questions, presses further because they’re Kunugigoaka kids. They know better than most that talents and skills and hobbies are nothing but opportunities to win trophies, concerts, nationals, praise, infamy and glory. Any real skill in any instrument, sport, language was automatically targeted for stardom. Even in E Class, the apparent scum of the school, was full of former piano prodigies and romance language whiz kids, Einsteins, Kants, and Jungs.
He had told Akabane about the gymnastics thing once.
Ten fucking years ago.
INTERMISSION- AKABANE’S PARTY
There are few constants in life.
One of them, just so happens to be that Karma Akabane lived alone.
His parents, auditors for oversees real estate owned by Japanese nationals, were never home. Akabane said once that he didn’t even know if they were still together.
Akabane says one is Russian and one is Japanese, but he forgot which was which. There are no photos of them in the house.
Every month his parents wired him enough money to get by. Without a word. Akabane says he gets flowers on his birthday and a lump sum of money every first Thursday of the month and that’s it. Akabane told Gakushuu this is how he has lived for the last 8 years.
Akabane says he thinks they’ll give him the house when he graduates high school.
The house, currently, is alive with how many people are in it. Akabane is popular, in his own particularly weird way. He knows all the people in school who are also friends with everyone. He’s a pro at networking. And then on top of this, all of E Class are here. Gakushuu remembers all of them, speaks to some of them still (read: Isogai).
It’s Christmas Day and its night-time and there is no snow and Akabane’s parents are not home, so he hosts a party in his cold empty house. The bass of the music shakes the whole house, like a heartbeat. It’s alive, Dr Frankenstein!
Akabane says the house is definitely his. “Squatter’s rights.” He shrugs. He’s 18 now. His birthday. It’s also Christmas Day. He’s on his couch, opposite Gakushuu, legs folded up carefully. He’s lanky, still. His hair is longer than it was in junior high. Styled in a shaggy, untamed half-mullet.
Gakushuu’s hair is not so much longer but styled differently now. There’s less of a resemblance now. He’s in a thickly kit Christmas themed sweater. The Vice President from the Student Council made it for him.
From somewhere behind him, he can Seo explaining the rules of an American drinking game to Nakamura.
“She has a crush on you, Class Prez,” Akabane babbles. He’s drunk. Sakakibara’s own a few wineries overseas in France. He’s drunk on Sakakibara branded champagne. “It’s, like, common knowledge.”
Gakushuu knows this too. Vice President, Kotone, is a tiny second year, highest scorer in her grade and on the gymnastics national youth team. She is enthusiastic and sharp and witty and also most certainly in madly in love with Gakushuu Asano.
Kotone is probably somewhere here. Akabane knows everyone.
“…I’m aware. I can’t say I feel the same way,” Gakushuu admits. Why is champagne so strong? Why is everything so loud? “We mostly talk about gymnastics.”
Akabane raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Another secret of yours?”
“I don’t keep secrets.” Gakushuu lies.
Akabane stares. “You’re such a dick, you know you do,” He fakes anger. They both know he’s right. Gakushuu has secrets he’ll never tell. They’re etched into his marrow, a reminder. He’ll die with them.
Gakushuu wants to be cremated when he dies.
“Just tell me anyways.” Akabane’s drink sloshes in its glass. His eyes burn straight into Gakushuu. Pools of amber, like thick syrup.
Gakushuu laughs, kinda. He’s definitely drunk. He tells Akabane about his time at gymnastics. Akabane listens. Gakushuu’s not sure if he’s so drunk, he’s actually just zoning out or if he’s actually listening to what Gakushuu is saying but regardless, Gakushuu talks.
“Nationals. I eventually chose soccer over it,” Gakushuu gives Akabane a look. “Being the only boy in a gymnastics class full of girls was… difficult in its own way.”
“Their loss,” Akabane sits down, flask in hand, open. How much has he drank? The wind up on the roof is bitingly cold but at least the breeze is just occasional. “Come, sit down.”
Gakushuu sits next to him, like how they sat on the subway, close and near each other, and they look out at the scenery in front of them. A thousand dazzling twinkling lights. Homes and cars and buses and trams and trains. It’s not home though, to either of them.
Akabane remembers gymnastics but not my number, Gakushuu tortures himself with. He feels sick. But going back to the house would only upset him further.
“Hey, Gakushuu,” Akabane mumbles. “Why did you invite me here?”
“Why did you invite me for ramen?” Gakushuu pauses. “…Karma.” It doesn’t sound right even still.
“Not fair. Answer my question first and then I’ll answer yours.”
The Honesty Game. A favourite of theirs.
Gakushuu sighs. “I couldn’t come here alone.” He knew he needed too, one last time. Closure. Gakushuu isn’t used to closure. He’s been chasing it all his life.
Closure.
One door closes and a million others open.
“Me neither,” Akabane’s voice is low. “Why did you come back to Japan?”
“Nope,” Gakushuu shakes his head. “Answer my question first.”
Akabane bunches his face up. “If you must know, I believe it’s fate,” He explains slowly. “Seeing you outside of Shibuya. I haven’t seen you in a very long time. It’s been years, hasn’t it? Even one crappy meal together would’ve been enough for me. You probably think this is silly, but I… missed you?”
A moment of totally, bleeding honesty.
It stuns Gakushuu momentarily. In the heat of the Silicon Valley corporate jungle, honesty was as rare as gold. He breaths out shakily. “I missed you too,” He admits. He found no Akabane substitute at MIT (not that he was aware he was hunting for a replacement). “And I liked the ramen.”
Akabane laughs. “Okay. Well, that’s nice to know you were thinking about me,” He takes another drink and passes the flask to Gakushuu. “For a moment, I thought you had only accepted my offer out of pity or something.”
Gakushuu takes a drink. The vermouth tastes better now. It goes down like water. “Pity? I feel a lot of different things about you, but I never pity you.”
Akabane half smiles, not entirely convinced but his eyes twinkle a certain way.
“Where do you work?”
Akabane’s face screws up. “Is it not my turn?”
Gakushuu was hoping he wasn’t paying attention and sighs. “Fire away.”
“What’s your favourite colour?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“My favourite colour?”
“Come on, man, answer,” Akabane whines. “I’ve known you all these years and I have no idea what your favourite colour is.”
Akabane remembers Gakushuu’s brief stint as a gymnast but not his phone number. Gakushuu’s never told him his favourite colour. They could probably recite the digits of pi until the eventual heat death of the universe, but they don’t know each other’s favourite colours.
He sighs. “My favourite colour… is probably…Hmm…”
Holy shit, Gakushuu thinks as his brain scrambles because actually that’s a good question what is my favourite colour and holy shit, that’s not just vermouth. I am really drunk!
“…Green,” He lands on. That seems right. “What do you do for work?” He concentrates hard on making sure he doesn’t slur.
“Oh, that? I’m, like, a bureaucrat?” Akabane laughs. He’s a little less drunk.
“Where do you work?”
“Do the rules mean nothing to you anymore?”
“Ask me another question then.” Gakushuu huffs.
“Favourite number?”
Gakushuu makes a face but answers anyways. “3. Where do you work?”
“Um. The National Diet.”
“Holy shit,” Gakushuu swears, jolting upright a little. “You work for the Diet? Is this your way of breaking into politics? Prime Minister Akabane?” He jokes.
“This is my way of getting by in life,” Akabane says bluntly, looking away. Gakushuu’s ashamed to admit it but he can’t remember what the other graduated in. He wants to say Mathematics, but it doesn’t seem right. “Anyways. My question now. What’s it like being CEO?”
Gakushuu tells him. “Well, it’s difficult. It can be quite challenging at times,” He thinks of California. “When everything goes smoothly, it’s very easy, however.”
INTERMISSION- CALIFORNIA
Gakushuu Asano owned two properties in California. One in San Francisco, with a great view of the Bay, the other in Santa Clara.
Santa Clara was also home to his company. Accelerate Enterprises.
He’s 27 and the CEO of Accelerate and he has a nice office, mostly made of glass with a little placard that bears his name.
The property in Santa Clara is mostly used as storage. Gakushuu sleeps in his office more often than not. He gets cramps and aches in his neck and back, but he takes an Advil and keeps on working.
He has 2 laptops, 16 different email accounts, 4 work phones, 1 personal and over 30,000 TB of information to oversee. He doesn’t take sick days.
He has his own Wikipedia page bookmarked.
Just curious.
His COO and likely his closest friend, Helga- Swedish-American and a machine code genius- pulls him aside after a quarterly meeting. “You look like you’re gonna fall apart,” She’s actually taller than him, blonde wavy hair. She looks like a model. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Gakushuu defaults to lying. He rubs at his eyes. “I have allergies.”
“It’s October and also I know you’re lying,” Helga pulls him in her office. They met at a ‘code-a-thon’ back in MIT. She won in C+ and R but not in Python. She had done her undergraduate degree in Psychology and now was studying Computer Science. She was from Maine. “Talk to me. Out there you can be big scary Mr Asano, but you have to communicate with me at least.”
“It’s about my father. I need to return to Japan for a while.”
Her face falls. “Oh.”
Helga knows about Kunugigoaka and knows Gakushuu hasn’t visited since he left for MIT. She gives him a hug.
“Then go,” Helga loves to hug people. “I can do your job and mine own easily. We’re settling in for the Christmas stretch and then New Years. It’ll be okay. You need to focus on you and your family now.”
“Thank you.”
“And stop sleeping in your office, it’s not healthy.”
He sighs.
“You make good money?” Akabane asks.
“It’s my question now, actually. What do you graduate in?”
Akabane jolts up. “Jesus, Asano, you don’t know?” He looks hurt.
And great, it’s Asano again.
“No. And you don’t know what I gradu-“
“-Double major in Mathematics and Economics, from MIT-“ Akabane interrupts loudly. He’s a lot more drunk now, it seems. “I remember yours. Do you even remember where I went?” He asks defensively.
“Uh,” Gakushuu racks his foggy brain. “Tokyo. I don’t know what in,” And then an old flame burns bright within his heart. “You deleted my number. That’s why you gave me your business card that night.” He retorts.
There’s a shift in Akabane’s eyes. “That’s- different. You know it,” He looks away. “And for your information, I graduated in Mathematics as well.”
“I could’ve guessed,” Gakushuu mentally scorns himself for not trusting his gut instinct. “Valedictorian?”
Akabane is silent and then, very quietly and very familiarly, whispers, “Second.”
Before he can help himself, Gakushuu laughs, pure unfiltered laughter and it makes Akabane’s face burn a little. He had only ever made Gakushuu really laugh on a few occasions, usually when it was just the two of them together, alone and away from anyone from school.
(Narrator: The first time Akabane made Gakushuu laugh was in a study group, for a project they had been assigned, in their first year of high school. The other members had retired for the night but of course, Gakushuu and Akabane being Gakushuu and Akabane, they turned it into a competition between themselves. The first to leave was the loser, they had decided after a verbal sparring match of quippy insults. So, they studied on, rotating different subjects to test on and supressing yawns while they corrected each other’s work.
It had just turned 9pm and as such, the librarian rightfully kicked them both out and informing them they had to leave school grounds now. It was nighttime, go home. Akabane made some sort of face at their contest being cut short but held his tongue. Gakushuu apologised for overstaying.
Because it was then 9:10pm and they were freshly 16 years old and hormonal and angsty and alone outside of school and their competition wasn’t over, they started to bicker needlessly outside Kunugigoaka. A few digs about each other’s parents and Korosensei and then, all of a sudden, Akabane throws a lazy punch and then they’re roughhousing. Nothing as serious as an actual fight (this would happen only 2 years later) but with nips and pinches and tugs and yanks and knees and elbows, all accompanied by shaky, breathy laughs from Akabane as they clashed.
Gakushuu, fed up with Akabane yanking on his ears, shook the other off, getting into a proper fighting stance. Muay Thai. “I’ll have you know that last guy I fought went home in an ambulance.” He frowned hard, eyes cold and distant. It would’ve been a scary sight, or at least unsettling, had it not been for the utter bullshit he had just spewed from his mouth.
Really the words slipped out before Akabane could even think better. “Shouldn’t have picked a fight with a paramedic then.” He joked, half expecting to have his nose broken, for blood to cascade down his only clean white shirt.
But Gakushuu did not throw a punch or kick or even screw up his face or fire back an insult. Instead, he did something completely alien. He just laughed. Something genuine.
Akabane thought to himself, wow he has a pretty laugh. (Narrator, again: This was the moment Akabane fell in love with Gakushuu)
Gakushuu eventually snorted and then this sent him into more laughter, crisp and light. It reminded Akabane of a river, running clear and strong.
Their original competition is long forgotten. They joke a little bit more before parting ways. Maybe it’s a trick of the light or his mind playing tricks on him, but Akabane’s convinced Gakushuu’s got a smile on his face as they say goodbye.)
There’s no cabs because it’s a weekday and no trains because now it is so late so Akabane has nowhere to go in Nishi Saikyo. Everybody responsible is already home. Except them.
Gakushuu briefly wonders if Akabane is living in that hotel in Tokyo.
“I have a spare bedroom available,” He offers. “Or there’s the couch.”
Akabane changes the subject. “Can I ask you something?”
Gakushuu hates this question when they aren’t playing the Honesty Game. “Okay.”
Akabane turns around to face him. He’s definitely drunk, in his stupor and gait but his eyes are laser focused. Gakushuu would be impressed if he wasn’t shitting bricks currently.
He breathes shakily, taking another swig of the drink. The flask is seemingly bottomless. “I was… kinda hoping you’d… that’d you’d have brought it up by now,” His speech is surprisingly even but slow. “But then I remembered you are Gakushuu,” He nears hisses the name. “So, I have to do everything, as always!”
Gakushuu’s heart hammers in his ears. He’s scared it might explode. Akabane takes another swig, drinking for longer this time.
“Where’s the principal?”
ACT IV
Gakushuu sighs. He should’ve known this was coming.
It’s Akabane, he thinks. We’re at Kunugigoaka and its him. Who else is there to tell?
And then, There’s nothing in writing.
He explains most of it, in a low and quiet voice. It is nighttime, after all.
Akabane listens. He’s always been a good listener.
He exhales, long and slowly. It’s sobering. He hasn’t really talked to anyone about all this, not really. It’s hard conversation to strike up, hey my dad who I haven’t spoken to in like 10 years because he’s a piece of shit tried to kill himself and now, I need to go and decide if I should take him off life support and also, I need to manage his estate and his 13 gazillion phony charities.
Speaking it out loud makes it real.
This is his reality.
Akabane blinks. “Fuck.”
He’s right. “Yeah.” Gakushuu rubs his eyes. Suddenly he’s very tired. He doesn’t want to be here anymore.
“Sorry.” Akabane offers because what else is there to say.
Gakushuu just sighs. Is he sorry?
He’s tired of this now.
“Can I ask you something?”
Because Akabane is a good sport, he nods.
“What about your old house? Did you sell it?”
Akabane winces. “That’s not really an option anymore.”
So, he is living in that hotel.
“Spare bedroom, it is.” Gakushuu claps his hands.
“Dude, you’re living in his house?” Akabane asks, eyes wide. He seems quite sober now, but his cheeks are red.
“…Yes.”
“Isn’t that where he…”
Gakushuu blinks. He really hadn’t thought about that. “It’s not haunted.” He shrugs.
Akabane pinches his nose. “You really haven’t changed,” Because of the moonlight, the bags under Akabane’s eyes are far more pronounced now. “Okay. Fine. I’ll take it.”
The spare bedroom has been well kept in his 10-year absence and as Gakushuu shows Akabane the door, he wonders if anyone has even actually slept in the room. They don’t have any other family apart from each other.
Gakushuu forces himself to think of something else. “The bathroom is at the end of the hall.”
Akabane had finished the rest of the flask on a quiet walk back to the Asano residence. “Thanks, Gakushuu,” He mumbles sleepily. “Night.”
The door closes behind him. Gakushuu stands out the door a little more before retiring to his room as well.
He dreams of their third year of high school together.
When Gakushuu awakes the next morning, at 11am and half naked upside down on his bed, Akabane has already left. There’s a hastily scrawled note on some kitchen roll- Got called in at 6am. Sorry, things always get crazy around this time of year. Free tomorrow night?
Gakushuu stares at the note while slowly eating some cereal. He wasn’t so much hungover, but he felt sluggish and lazy. Even eating a bowl of cereal was a monumental task.
He goes back upstairs, prepared to remake the guest bedroom and to his surprise, it’s already made.
Akabane is less and less like his old self than I remember, Gakushuu notes. What was it he said last night? I really haven’t changed. Haven’t I?
He broods a little. He thinks again about the previous night.
The house my dad tried to kill himself in.
The thought should haunt him. But it doesn’t. He goes and sits in the study, spinning on his father’s chair. He was first struck in this room- 5 and for getting 19/20 in a spelling test. He wonders where his father got a gun.
The walls are spotless, Gakushuu notes. They must’ve used some sort of hydrogen peroxide.
He looks at the envelope. It really does taunt him.
He should maybe visit his father. He should definitely read that letter.
He doesn’t do either.
Instead, he thinks about Akabane.
They go back to Kunugigoaka the next night because Gakushuu loves distractions and Akabane is.... well… unhappy, clearly. He is not as happy as he was a few days ago, his eyes tired. His shoulders sag and if Gakushuu had to guess, he’s probably been sleeping in the shirt he’s wearing right now.
Gakushuu asks what’s up. Akabane says it’s just work stuff. Gakushuu says okay.
Again, they go over the fence. Again, they race up the hill. Again, up on the roof. Tonight, the air is colder, crisper, almost bitter.
And instead of vermouth, Akabane has vodka. And instead of a flask he has a bottle.
Akabane’s tie is loose around his neck, a few buttons on his shirt are undone and his hair is ruffled. He is his high school self-personified, rosy cheeks, dark under eyes. There are glimpses of his former boyish charm, but he looks much too old and dishevelled for the illusion to hold.
“Do you ever miss it? Junior high, I mean.” Akabane doesn’t look at Gakushuu as he talks, his eyes instead focused on the very distant and blurry outline of one of the main campus football pitches.
Gakushuu exhales. “Very rarely,” He scratches at the back of his neck, to pick at a random spot there. He already hates feeling feelings but even worse is having to talk about them. That requires weakness, not something he has in high demand. He shakes his head dismissingly. It’s Akabane. “I wish I didn’t, but I do. I liked winning.”
Akabane’s laugh is bitter. “You guys didn’t win all the time, you know.” He corrects.
“We won a lot.”
“Yeah, yeah. You remember those 3 points?”
Gakushuu scoffs. “Do you remember that 1 point?”
(Narrator: Gakushuu had beaten Akabane in Mathematics, their most competitive subject, by 1 mark in their 3rd year finals at high school.)
“Oh, that was a good one,” Akabane half smiles. “I’m sure everyone else in that class hated us for that. We were arguing in the hallway.”
“We were terrible.”
“I think it’s funny,” Akabane isn’t smiling anymore. Gakushuu can’t tell how much he’s had to drink. “You know, I really have never met anyone as smart as you.”
Gakushuu snorts gently. “Well, obviously.”
“I’m being serious,” Akabane’s eyes are ice cold as he speaks. It suddenly feels very cold. Gakushuu shivers. “No one’s ever been able to compare to you…” The words die in his throat.
It should be a compliment, but it doesn’t sit right with Gakushuu at all. He shuffles a little. “And the Diet?”
Akabane scoffs, incredulous. “You wouldn’t believe it,” He rubs at his eyes. “It’s such a slog. Everyone is so fucking stupid. And no one wants to communicate.”
They complain about their jobs, more Akabane than Gakushuu but still. Vodka is scarily depressing as they moan and grumble about coworkers and shareholders and engineers and politicians. Akabane has no end of grievances against his coworkers, an endless barrage of slurred insults directed at faceless names.
Cynicism is easy for Gakushuu, it always has been, but it’s particularly ugly on Akabane. Gakushuu ponders its origin.
The Akabane he remembers and the Akabane next to him are two different people.
He takes another drink of vodka. It emboldens Gakushuu.
“I think you’re depressed,” A little dribble of vodka spills from his mouth as he talks but he doesn’t wipe it away. It dribbles down his chin and lands on his shirt. “I think you’re depressed.” He repeats, breathy. The December air is stagnant and cold, and his words fog and drift away in the bitter chill.
Akabane flinches ever so slightly, a microscopic falter but it’s enough. It shows. His cheeks burn, more pink than red and he sighs, eyes downcast. In this lighting, they’re the colour of amber, prehistoric honey. “I think you’re right,” He mutters, taking the flask back. He fiddles with the lid subconsciously, flicking at it with his finger repetitively. “I’m stuck.”
“In what way?” Gakushuu pauses. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Akabane smiles briefly but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve always been good at keeping secrets…” He says in a tiny voice. Just like that and the smile is gone and that look, that empty and hollow look returns.
“I can’t talk to people, not without failing miserably at small talk. No one is logical or clever, they’re all just mindless sheep. I can’t sleep at night, so I sleep in the daytime. My laundry’s all stale, coffee tastes like shit,” Akabane rambles. Some of his words slur. “I hate my job. I want to push someone in front of a train. I hate Tokyo. I hate Japan.”
Gakushuu lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, puffing out his cheeks. Akabane had appeared somewhat happy with him over the past few weeks.
But then again, they are in high school anymore, not each other’s closest friend or rival or comrade or whatever they were back then. It’s been 10 years since they last saw another and it’s like being back at square-fucking-one in a lot of ways.
“Really?”
Akabane nods just once. “It’s awful. It’s so miserable and then I make myself even more unhappy and I just rot in my cycle of misery,” He mumbles and then laughs bitingly. “You know, it’s funny. Seeing you at Shibuya was the happiest I’d been in a long time.”
Gakushuu bites in the inside of his cheek until he tastes wet pennies. “Me too.” He whispers in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own.
Akabane doesn’t respond, as he fiddles with his hands. Gakushuu watches as he aimlessly picks at a mole on his wrist. He’s not sure how long they sit in silence together. It’s like being back in school. Gakushuu tries to listen out for any wildlife, something to focus on other than Akabane’s occasional cough, but he can’t make out any specific animals.
“I was in a dark place.”
Gakushuu blinks, once, twice. He has an idea of what he should say, the societal expectation of empathy. But this is Akabane. Completely new ballpark. Magnetic in a way that Gakushuu’s never been able to resist.
Because when the two of them are alike, they’re alike. Too often in high school, Gakushuu found himself staring into a mirror of his own soul in Akabane, a true reflection of himself. He’s certain Akabane saw it too, the similarities. Like a void, all the way down the rabbit hole. Mirror images. Non-superimposable.
Maybe not in first or second year but he must’ve known in third year.
Gakushuu’s heart hammers in his chest and he’s not sure if it’s a panic attack or vomit or what so he tenses his fingers, his fists balling up. Because it’s so cold, his fingertips sting.
Gakushuu won’t scream because he can control himself but God, he feels like screeching under his vocal box burns through. The pieces fall into place, sickly so because maybe the universe really does hate him and Gakushuu feels the air escape his chest. His subconscious screams a million obscenities at himself, a long chain of profanity, woven by his very own voice.
Shibuya. Ogikubo. Nishi Saikyo. Kunugigoaka. “…And that’s why you came back here.” Gakushuu manages. The lump in his throat causes his voice to crack and break. Akabane doesn’t mention it. “To- To-“
Akabane makes a gun with his hand and fires, pretending to shoot his brains out, complete with sound effects of the bullet firing. He pretends to lie dead for a moment and peaks open an eye when he realises Gakushuu’s silence.
“Was that too much?” He asks, still with one eye open. And then realisation floods his eyes. “Shit, sorry.”
“A little,” Gakushuu confirms, mind on fire. “Even for you,” He chews on the inside of his cheek before speaking. Blood pools in his mouth. Father tried to kill himself but didn’t succeed. Akabane didn’t get a chance to try. “So, the night I ran into you…” He trails off.
Akabane bits at the nail on his thumb. “Probably. I don’t know. I just kinda saw y-you and everything just lifted. Like I just forgot that feeling,” His gaze shifts, flustered. “And I’ve been kinda okay since. It’s weird. I-I dunno… it’s… hmm…” He takes another drink and makes a face as he swallows the clear liquid down.
Gakushuu’s starting to suspect something’s amiss with the liquor Akabane brought, what with the way the latter is unapologetically wasted, occasionally slurring. His face is nearly as red as his hair now. Gakushuu’s own cheeks burn.
It’s cold and they are definitely drunk and Akabane was going to kill himself. There’s a loud but distant ringing noise in his ears. It’s almost deafening. It’s definitely not just vodka they’re drinking either.
“What the fuck are we drinking?” He exclaims.
Akabane rubs at his face, sniffling a little. “You’ve always been too clever,” He mumbles, curling into himself. “Too clever, Asano-chan.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Ehhhh, I could still drive. Probably.”
“You can drive?”
Akabane nods, with a proud and lazy smile on his face. “Yes sir.”
Gakushuu imagines Akabane on the Gaikan Expressway, hot-headed as he merges into lanes and throws angry insults at inpatient taxi drivers.
The sky is lightening now, a cool navy rather than inky black. Gakushuu wonders just how long they’ve been here. He thinks briefly about taking a taxi back to the airport.
“You really have changed.” Gakushuu says more to himself than to Akabane.
“I guess,” And then Akabane takes a long hard swig of whatever potion he’s concocted. “So have you. But then in ways you’re still the same.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you’re still stubborn and proud and witty,” Akabane muses. “You’re not really an asshole anymore-”
“-Thanks-“
“-Let’s see, you drink now. You speak English with a funny accent now. Oh, say tomato.”
“No.”
“Say ‘faucet’.”
“No.”
Akabane laughs. “You’re still no fun,” And then he’s quiet, eerily so. “I guess you’ve probably changed more than I have.”
Gakushuu frowns. “You’ve changed too.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you’re right. But I feel like I’ve changed in all the insignificant ways. Some days when I look in the mirror, it’s like I’m 18 all over again.”
Gakushuu swallows hard. “In what way?”
The air is silent and tense for just a few moments and Gakushuu what’s coming. He can almost see Akabane’s wires resetting themselves. “Always wanting what I can’t have,” Akabane whispers. He’s so close to Gakushuu that he can feel his breath, hot and ghostlike, on his cheek. “Always reaching for the top shelf.” His pupils are blown wide, like two black buttons sewn on his face. Gakushuu’s pulse races and his throat dries and suddenly he is 18 and he’s had too much to drink and Kotone and Akabane and-
INTERMISSION- SAKAKIBARA’S PARTY
Gakushuu’s definitely not gay. Or bisexual or whatever. At least that’s what he’s been telling himself. As long as he believes it, it’s true.
Sakakibara’s party, third year, is where his trouble unfolds, where little seeds of doubt are sown. Every year, his parents leave for Southern France around the exam period (claiming to allow their only son space to revise). So, for the last six years now, from all the way back in junior high, Sakakibara’s been throwing a party in his lovely, vulnerable, and available house. Gakushuu’s proud to say he’s one of few to have attended all of Sakakibara’s bacchanals. Sakakibara has been planning this one- the showstopping finale- for seven months now.
Sakakibara does not disappoint. The entire student body is here and then some and then some and there’s so much alcohol- so much beer- that Gakushuu thinks might stink out Sakakibara’s neighbourhood in that distinct hoppy smell.
Gakushuu hypothetically knows everybody’s name here but right now, his mind is mostly blank. He had procured a source of flavoured soju from the volleyball team captain who owned him a favour from last semester. He reads the label on the bottle. It’s only around 14% ABV and yet he is hammered.
He’s upstairs, where the party is still busy but less so than downstairs. Upstairs, there is a little more wiggle room to navigate the maze of teenagers. His back is against a radiator, warm and just perfect, in what he believes must be the master bedroom, if the extravagant décor is anything to go off of. In here, the music is quiet, and the lights dim, while everyone chats quietly amongst themselves.
The door opens tentatively, jolting the girl who was leaning against it. It’s Kotone, who is no way unpopular, so Gakushuu doesn’t assume she’s here for him- even despite all the rumours- but then her eyes scan the room and when she notices Gakushuu, she smiles all self-congratulatory. She hops over the lattice of legs and arms and bodies and sits down next to Gakushuu.
“Hi Asano,” She greets, pressing her back against the radiator as well. Her auburn hair has been clipped back and the rest pulled into her typical ponytail. “I’ve been looking for you.”
A smile grows on his face. He takes another drink of soju. This one is plum flavour. “Oh?”
She says she wants to speak to him outside. She says it’s about official Student Council business. Gakushuu agrees.
She takes a hold of his wrist and guides him through a wave of students he has forgotten the names of. It’s so smooth Gakushuu doesn’t even realise her grip has turned into holding his hand as she weaves their way to the back door.
She drops his hand when they get outside. Gakushuu thinks of just how warm her hand was. The air is bitingly cold. No one is around. How Sakakibara’s house can hold that many people is a mystery.
They share a cigarette, a little dance they’ve done before after particularly stressful meetings. Kotone has the cigarettes and Gakushuu the lighter; they do this so neither can smoke without the other. It’s all very simple. Gakushuu can’t stand the taste to smoke a whole one and Kotone says she doesn’t want to ruin her lung capacity for nationals, so they share one.
They sit on a step outside in Sakakibara’s garden and share a cigarette.
“Thanks,” Kotone lights cigarettes the same way models do- all elegance and chic. “I just needed to get some fresh air.”
“And a smoke.” Gakushuu adds.
“That too,” Kotone inhales deeply and passes the cigarette to Gakushuu. “Sakakibara’s a next level of social butterfly,” She jokes, glancing back at the house. “I thought last year’s was impressive.”
He takes a drag. “A social pariah, you mean.” He manages, through the bitter taste of tobacco.
Kotone notices this- Gakushuu isn’t sure if this a Kotone thing or a girl thing but they’re good at figuring things out- and laughs. “I’m not even sure why you do this with me, Asano,” She giggles quietly. “You have such a visceral reaction every time.”
“It’s not too bad.”
She makes a pained expression. “You look like you need to cough.”
He does need to cough. He swallows it down, fighting through the scratchy discomfort. “It’s okay,” He examines the box of cigarettes. Marlboro Reds. “Reds are just terrible.”
“Well, they’re the only brand my dad smokes,” Kotone rolls her eyes. “He’s been smoking Reds since the Yakult Swallows won the Japan Series back in ’78.”
He takes another drag of the cigarette. This time, it’s not too bad. In this moment, he wishes he knew more about baseball. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watches Kotone watch him.
Kotone, on paper, is his type. She is pretty and popular and clever and cute and talented. This close to her Gakushuu can see her freckles. She’s half American, like Gakushuu and she laughs at things that aren’t really that funny. Her favourite colour is ‘seashell pink’ and she lost her subway card twice last month.
These are the sort of memories that stretch time out infinitely. It loops into self and Gakushuu knows what’s going to happen before it happens like he’s watching the season finale of his own life.
“I’m really gonna miss you.” She mumbles so softly, that Gakushuu just barely catches it. A whisper in the wind.
It’s pretty much all but in writing that Kotone will win her Student Council election in June. In June, Gakushuu be on summer break. No longer at Kunugigoaka.
Off to America.
Kotone begins leans in, closer and closer and closer until she’s so close he can smell her perfume- orangey and fresh and sweet like soju. In that moment, that sole moment, he finds himself completely unable to move. Kotone makes up his share of the distance and just like that they’re kissing. Him and Kotone. Kotone and him. Kissing.
Why does everyone complicate everything?
He’s both too drunk and not drunk enough for this. Gakushuu’s brain and heart agree on something for once.
“Um.” Is all he manages to say before standing up and heading back towards the house. Suddenly, it is far too quiet, and he can’t bear to be out in the silence, not with Kotone. He can’t bear to look at her, doesn’t want to meet her gaze.
The house is loud enough to block out Gakushuu’s thoughts, as he wanders aimlessly. Everyone he bumps into is just the wrong person to see right now, especially when Nakamura of E Class (because of course she is here) spots him and attempts to make conversation with him. He dodges out of her line of sight and hides behind two members of the student newspaper, who owe him a favour from last year’s Sport’s Day, until he’s certain Nakamura has gone upstairs.
He doesn’t dare stay in the kitchen any longer and finds himself in the garage.
Akabane is here. Akabane is drinking, a foreign brand of beer in his hand, laughing with someone Gakushuu doesn’t recognise.
Akabane is drunk. “Asano!” He roars, a smile growing on his face. “It’s Asano!”
The unfamiliar person introduces herself in a tone of great as Kaede. She looks relieved to see Gakushuu which is not something that happens a lot. “We went to junior high together.”
Gakushuu blanks.
“My hair was green.”
Gakushuu remembers her now. One of the multi-coloured dots of E Class. “You look different,” He smiles tightly. “Hello, Akabane.”
“Helllllllooooo,” He grins. “I’ve been telling Kaede-chan about you.”
Kayano gives him a pained look. He can only imagine what Akabane’s been rambling to her about. “He’s drunk.”
“I can tell,” Gakushuu thinks, thinks about Kotone in the garden and the PR shitstorm he’ll have to deal with tomorrow (whatever happens at Sakakibara’s parties always gets back to the man himself) and shivers. “I’ll take him home.”
Gakushuu is so drunk he doesn’t remember where Akabane lives. Akabane is so drunk he doesn’t remember where he lives either. “I know the way home.”
“But not the address.”
“Something 192… no…” Akabane slurs to himself.
There’s a faint but persistent ringing noise in his ears. “Left or right up ahead.”
Akabane points left, having forgotten any sense of cardinal directions. “That way.”
“Jesus, Akabane,” It’s a miracle he can still stand really, yet alone walk. Thank God for muscle memory. “You smell like a brewery.”
“I only had a few.” Akabane whines and stops in his tracks. They’ve barely made it out of Sakakibara’s street and he’s already stopping to crouch low on the ground.
Gakushuu needs distance between himself and Kotone. “Akabane, let’s go.”
“Just a sec,” Akabane’s fiddling with something and then he stands and it’s a pack of cigarettes. They’ve been exposed to the elements, the carton slightly soggy and flecked with dirt. “Found these.” He mumbles, with a proud look on his face.
Gakushuu resists the urge to gag. He vows silently to himself to never smoke again. “Put those down. Someone could’ve pissed on those.”
Akabane doesn’t seem to listen and if he does, he doesn’t care. He lights a slightly damp cigarette and tosses the rest of the pack onto the road. He doesn’t offer Gakushuu one because Akabane doesn’t know Gakushuu smokes.
“That’s littering.” Gakushuu scowls.
The nicotine helps sober Akabane up, if only a little. Maybe it’s the fresh air too. Maybe Akabane’s grown a pair. Through the smoke, comes his voice, a little more focused than a few minutes ago. “Write me up, Class Prez.” It’s a challenge and he’s all grin and if he’s still drunk, if he really is drunk- because Gakushuu’s not sure anymore if Akabane is drunk or is just pretending- then Akabane must be absolutely totalled.
(Narrator: Gakushuu would write up Akabane for this incident the following week.)
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Akabane taps off the ash onto his trousers. “At the party. I was looking for you.”
“It wasn’t on purpose. I was upstairs in one of the bedrooms for most of the night.”
Akabane gasps all dramatic, like he’s on Broadway. “Asano! You naughty naughty boy!” Despite Akabane’s toothy smile, there’s something in his voice that Gakushuu can’t pinpoint. “You and Vice Prez? Or you and the head of Akido?”
“No and no,” Gakushuu’s face flares red. “It’s not like that…” He trails off, remembering the way Kotone’s lips felt on his. “I was just upstairs, if you couldn’t find me, you weren’t looking hard enough.”
Akabane laughs. “Oh, I was. I think you just have a…a…. number of girls you had to,” He thinks for a bit. “Show face with.”
Gakushuu rolls his eyes at the mere thought of him as a womaniser. Akabane is both somewhat an articulate drunk and imaginative thinker. “You believe I have a carousel of girlfriends?”
Akabane takes another drag and blows the smoke directly into Gakushuu’s face. The smell of the tobacco makes Gakushuu feel sick. “Maybe. Maybe not. Carousel of boyfriends perhaps?” They take a hard right and through a shortcut Gakushuu doubts is legitimate.
If Gakushuu doesn’t like talking about girls, he certainly doesn’t like talking about boys. That’s a conversation for… well, never, if Gakushuu can manage it. A lump grows in his throat. He swats away a fly.
“No,” And it comes out harsher than he means to, all acid and gnashing teeth. “I was alone.” He was and when he wasn’t he was with Kotone, who is a girl anyways. He tries to remember how he even got to Sakakibara’s, how this night even started. It was lighter then, maybe around 8pm. What did he even do today- what’s the date, even?
“I think you’re lying,” Akabane smiles like he knows something he shouldn’t. The serpent in the tree. “You have a tell.”
That gets a good hearty snort out of Gakushuu. “Bullshit,” If he had a tell, he would know about it already. Father would’ve noticed it a long time ago. It would’ve been picked apart and decimated and wiped from his genetic code if we did. “…Are we far from your house?”
Akabane stops and looks around himself, his soggy cigarette long forgotten. They’re approaching what looks like a dead end. “We’re okay,” He says slowly, like he’s trying to convince himself. “We went the fence way, though.” He points at the chain link fence ahead of him.
Gakushuu is definitely sober now and he will remember this night in shocking clarity, even years down the line. “The fence way.” He blanks.
“Gotta jump it man,” Akabane mumbles in a slight American drawl as he begins to get a good grip on the metal fence. “It’s easy, donworry,” He slurs as he scales upwards. Luckily, there’s no sort of barbed wire at the top, so Akabane simply flops over and lands unceremoniously on his knees on the other side of the fence. “Taaaaadaaaaaa~!”
Gakushuu was definitely sober and when Gakushuu’s sober, he is clever and rational. If he was clever, he would’ve let Akabane find his own way home. They were probably close. Akabane lives in the nice part of Nishi Saikyo; who’d try and jump him of all people? He has no real reason to scale this fence.
For some reason or another, Gakushuu scales the fence. It is very easy for him to land on both feet. Gakushuu’s not even really sure why this fence is here, now that he thinks about it. They’re at a backend of what he hopes is Akabane’s street.
Akabane seems to know where he’s going for real now. “Okkayyy,” He steers them both left. “This way.”
All the houses in this street look miserable and cold and empty (not that Gakushuu’s in any position to talk) but Akabane’s is particularly cold and empty. Compared to the living mass that was Sakakibara’s, this house is merely a spectre.
Gakushuu waits patiently for Akabane to punch his code in for the gate. It takes him an awfully long time to remember ‘1234’ (which is just terrible, even by Akabane’s standards) and when he does and the gate buzzes open, he seems to take a moment to think.
“Asano,” Is all Akabane says before Akabane kisses him and Gakushuu just kinda freezes. His brain, filled of alcohol and nicotine and hormones, quite literally hot wires and fries itself.
Why does everyone complicate everything?
Kotone was one thing but Akabane? Akabane? Akabane?
In this moment, in Akabane’s haunted street, Gakushuu’s terrified. All he can hear is his own frantic heartbeat, like a stampede in his brain. Kotone was one thing, one already terrifying thing of its own accord because that was Kotone, who only sees the Gakushuu wants her to see. This is Akabane, first place by three points, part-time criminal delinquent, charlatan and Tasmanian devil incarnate. Akabane, for some reason or another, who can see right fucking through him as if he was paper, who knows things he shouldn’t and can guess the rest and who, for every god forsaken soul on this Earth, is currently kissing him.
That’s not even the scariest part. The thing that terrifies Gakushuu most, the thing that’ll keep him up at night, is the fact that Gakushuu is kissing a boy. They’re standing outside Akabane’s house, in Akabane’s street, just kissing. And Akabane’s a boy and they’re kissing.
Gakushuu’s as repressed as a Catholic choir boy and any sort of notion of… sexuality (how he loathes this word) makes his brain throw up automatic barriers- access denied. The idea of a relationship is completely foreign to Gakushuu. Father never remarried after his mother passed and that was that. The Asano men lived like monks, really.
What terrifies Gakushuu Asano is that he likes this.
This is the moment Gakushuu will remember through grain alcohol induced rages and self-hatred inspired funeral pyre spirals as the crux of his self-hatred.
Just as it happens, it’s over. Like lightning. Blink and you’ll miss it. Akabane pulls away and gives Gakushuu a smile before disappearing into his house, leaving Gakushuu all alone.
If Akabane remembers what happened that night between the two of them, he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t even hint at it. This makes Gakushuu believe that he’s forgotten, meaning it’s Gakushuu secret to take to the grave. He locks it away in a very compartmentalised box, seals it, and files it under ‘things to never think about’- alongside his mother and Ikeda.
The world turns as usual. Father makes a snide remark to his hangover the next day. Kotone apologises and they agree to move on but something’s changed forever there, Gakushuu knows. The sun rises and sets each day and Gakushuu goes to bed every night for three whole fucking weeks dreaming of Akabane.
There’s no one around for miles. Nishi Saikyo is practically dead, bonafide ghost town. All that’s missing are the tumbleweeds. Gakushuu’s back, back in Nishi Saikyo and he’s on the roof of his father’s old cram school and he’s sitting next to Karma Akabane.
His eyes flutter shut on their own.
“And if you could reach? The top shelf?” Gakushuu finds himself asking before he can realise what he’s saying, as if someone’s controlling his every move. “What would you do?”
Akabane is silent for a very long time before he speaks. “Gakushuu…” His voice is far deeper now, thick like a blanket of snow. There’s a look in his eye that emboldens Gakushuu to ask a question he never thought he’d actually ask out loud.
Gakushuu’s careful as he speaks. It’s like the roof might give in below him. “…Sakakibara’s party.”
With the look Akabane gives him, it’s pretty fucking apparent he remembers the night of Sakakibara’s party.
What follows is maybe the single longest moment of Gakushuu life.
Akabane takes his chin and kisses him. It’s like an entire symphony orchestra goes off in Gakushuu’s head. Like a star collapsing inwards on itself, dying and being reborn, Gakushuu’s mind reels out of control. In one singular moment, he is reminded of all the stolen glances, the occasional brushing of hands, that same warmth in his chest of high school, when the greatest challenge in life was seeing who would score higher.
Like two jigsaw pieces falling into place. It’s suddenly the most obvious thing in the world.
They go back to Gakushuu’s. Akabane takes the far side of his bed, closet the wall. His old bed is not really meant for two grown men and Akabane’s abnormally tall, so his legs hang out the bottom. Now that the alcohol is wearing off, Gakushuu’s a little annoyed he’s having to a share a bed but there’s really no other option. The guest bedroom has been relegated for storage, now that Gakushuu has to start getting the estate in order and Father threw out the futon years ago and Father’s bedroom- no.
Gakushuu changes into a comfier t-shirt to sleep in. They’re facing each other in bed, illuminated only by a very small slither of moonlight. It means Gakushuu can just see the ends of Akabane’s hair, the colour of his eyes, the warmth in his smile. “Why are you staring at me?” He whispers, even though he doesn’t have to.
“Dunno,” Akabane whispers back. This close, it’s brimstone hot from all these spirits he’s been drinking. “Guess I just like looking at you.”
Gakushuu laughs breathily and he feels like he should say something, but the words don’t really form so he just settles on silence until he finds himself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the repetitive but quiet snoring from Akabane.
When he awakens the next morning, Akabane is gone and Gakushuu has decided that he will end his father’s life support.
ACT V
Akabane doesn’t contact him for another 3 days. Gakushuu’s a little hurt, wounded even, but also a little busy.
Luckily, Gakuhou Asano, in all his wisdom, did prepare a very detailed will pertaining to his estate. It is also a very long will. Gakuhou Asano doesn’t have many friends but a lot of acquaintances, all of which have been left with different journals, portraits, sculptures and in one instance, a boat.
In the will, Gakushuu gets the house and whatever’s left in Gakuhou’s bank account after all Yamamoto takes his fee. but that’s it. And there’s a clause.
‘ASANO GAKUSHUU, my only child, will be the recipient of the property at 1261, 415-332, Nishi Saikyo Ward, TOKYO on the sole condition he reads the letter in his possession, labelled ‘GAKUSHUU’.’
He thinks of phoning Yamamoto, to let him know his decision but in the end, he doesn’t have to. A nurse from the hospital phones him on the third day of radio silence from Akabane and tells him his Father only has a week to live, based on their estimates.
“Okay,” Gakushuu says, head spinning. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry, Asano-san.”
“Okay.” And he hangs up and phones Yamamoto. He tells him Father isn’t long for this world.
“I… You’ll have to start looking into what we mentioned, with the estate,” There’s a pause over the receiver. “I’m sorry, Gakushuu.”
Gakushuu is getting really sick of hearing that. “Okay.” And he hangs up.
And then he phones Akabane.
Akabane doesn’t answer so Gakushuu calls again and this time, it goes straight to voicemail. Gakushuu tries again and gets the same result and then Gakushuu gets angry. When Gakushuu gets angry, he gets creative.
He remembers vaguely the address Akabane gave him all those weeks ago outside that bar, a memory that feels like several lifetimes ago. He knocks on the hotel door he hopes Akabane’s behind until his knuckles go numb and they’ll definitely bruise and then the door opens and it’s Akabane. He looks terrible. Gakushuu doesn’t say this.
“You look like shit.”
“Okay.”
“Can I come in?”
“…Okay.”
Gakushuu is led into his room, a surprisingly crummy little thing, all commercial and artificial. The walls and sheets and drapes are all plain, all of Akabane’s stuff packed away neatly in a case in the corner. There’s a sizeable mini bar, bigger than Gakushuu’s seen in American hotels. He takes a seat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Akabane doesn’t take a seat, instead pouring a dram of what Gakushuu believes to be whisky or bourbon. Without looking at Gakushuu, he speaks.
“Why are you here?”
“Father’s gonna die within the week.”
Akabane says nothing, continues to pour. In the silence, Gakushuu wonders how long it would take for the Earth to be vaporised via solar flare.
“I just wanted to tell you.”
“I meant why are you here.”
Gakushuu blinks. “I didn’t know anywhere else to go,” He gets up. “I can-“
“Don’t. I just- don’t go,” Akabane sighs, rubs at his face. Has he always looked this aged? When he looks in the mirror, who does he see? What does he see? “We need to talk.”
There’s that word, talking. The mere mention of it makes Gakushuu’s brain go into lockdown, throwing up a huge, proverbial ‘nope, fuck off’ all over. To deflect from his discomfort, he settles into what’s always been easiest for him- nastiness. He motions to the glass in Akabane’s hand. “Are we doing this sober or…?”
“Oh, fuck you, Gakushuu,” Akabane bites, gesturing widely with his glass. It spills and sloshes around as he barks. He takes a large defiant gulp. “How dare you. How fucking dare you. You don’t fucking know me. You come here just to insult me? You’re a fucking dick.”
Akabane’s insults don’t scare Gakushuu. “You’re living in a fucking hotel, you fucking-“ Gakushuu doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Akabane is on top of him, struggling and kicking and thrashing, his drink forgotten. He’s taller and with a vice like grip but Gakushuu was raised on violence, it’s his first language, and Akabane’s juvenile backstreet fisticuffs is nothing for the sharp precision of Asano branded brutality that he was raised on.
Gakushuu, not one to give up a fight, struggles against, clawing at Akabane’s wrists until his fingers go numb from pressure. He tries hooking his leg around the back of Akabane’s neck to gain some leverage, but Akabane is like a fish out of water and slips out of his awkward grasp.
“Fucking-“ Gakushuu pulls on Akabane’s tie hard until it knots up high by his neck, limited the other’s airflow. “What the fuck are you-“
Akabane’s hands go to free his neck from the tie’s grasp and with the release from the barrage, Gakushuu writhes away, out from under Akabane’s grip. “What the fuck.”
Akabane is breathing hard as he throws his tie across the room. “You can’t-,” He places a hand on his chest, above his heart. “You remembered the night of Sakakibara’s party.”
“Yes!” Gakushuu exclaims because he can’t believe they’re back at this again. Together, they could rule continents and cure cancer but instead, they’re back at this. “Yes, I do! I did!”
Akabane looks hurt, his eyes wide and impossibly sad. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Gakushuu scoffs. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I asked first.”
Gakushuu sighs. “I freaked out. I couldn’t… I can’t… In case you don’t remember, I was kind of a mess in high school,” He snaps. “I remembered and I thought you didn’t. I didn’t want to make things awkward. It’s not like you said anything either.”
This is seemingly the wrong answer. Akabane groans and rubs at his eyes. “I’m not talking about the party.”
It’s like they’re stuck in a terrible feedback loop of incoherence and miscommunication. “I’m fucking sick of the melodrama, Karma,” And if that isn’t the most dramatic thing Gakushuu’s ever declared. “If you want to say or ask me something, grow up and say it out right.”
“What is this,” Akabane spins around hot on his heels, like a gunslinger in a spaghetti Western. “This isn’t fair.”
“What isn’t fair?”
Akabane meets his eyes, filled with something that Gakushuu can likely identify. Akabane’s gaze could melt ice caps. “Gakushuu, I’ve been in love with you since high school.”
“Oh.” Is what Gakushuu says, “Oh dear.” It’s like he’s circling a drain.
Akabane nods slowly. “I don’t even care if you don’t feel the same or if you’re straight or Catholic or Lutheran or whatever, but I feel like if I don’t tell you this now, my chest will explode,” He rambles on. “I’ve been in love with for 10 years now and now you’re back and everything is off, and I need to know- “
“-Akabane-“
“I need to know what you think this is,” He says slowly, every word delicate and meticulous. ”It’s not… fair, we can’t just- kiss like that when we’re drunk and then when we’re sober everything is just forgotten and-“
“You’re the one who disappeared before sunrise,” Gakushuu himself is surprised by the venom in his voice. “Don’t fucking- You can’t just-“
“I’m not! I’m not! It’s just-“ Akabane runs a hand through his hair, leaving it to part airily down the middle. “Look. Look. Look.”
“Out with it.”
“I don’t… know, this is…hard, you know,” He takes a shaky breath. “This is the most anything’s made sense in the last 10 years, and I’ve loved you for all ten of them. I think. I think whatever I feel for you is the closest I’ll ever feel to love. It’s you, Gakushuu. Bottom line, it’s you. You call, I’ll answer. This is… this is something real, okay? Do you understand?”
Gakushuu doesn’t really know what to say. He never does, not with Akabane. He feels his mouth dries up, like sand dunes under the inescapable heat. What does one say to Akabane. There aren’t words. A million memories and punches and gestures but never words.
That’s the truth, isn’t it? For Akabane, there aren’t any words. Gakushuu’s spent so long learning languages and yet there aren’t any that sum up how he feels about Akabane. He transcends everything and that fucking terrifies Gakushuu.
“I’ve dreamt of you for years,” It’s barely a whisper and his own voice doesn’t sound familiar, like it’s coming from several rooms away. “I- You look different but it’s you.”
Akabane is silent, huge burning eyes on Gakushuu.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gakushuu admits. “I have no clue. I came here hoping to take every day at time. Father is, Father is-“ He groans, suddenly guilty. He rubs at his temples. “I don’t know. I don’t know. You make sense. I don’t know.”
They sit in the silence, on the grey carpet of Akabane’s hotel floor, a million things left unsaid hanging between them.
“What are you going to do about the principal?”
“I don’t know,” Gakushuu pulls his knees up to his chest. “Pull his life support I suppose. I don’t want to see him.” He confesses, mostly to himself.
Akabane says nothing but inches closer to Gakushuu in silence. Gakushuu waits for him to meet his eyes.
“What are you doing in this shithole?”
Akabane laughs a little breathy thing. “Japan or…?”
“Both, I guess. What about the Nishi Saikyo house,” Gakushuu flexes out his hand on the carpet, feels the coarse fabric underneath. “Have you been living here for the last 10 years?”
“Good God, no. Nothing as tragic as that.” Akabane says his parents are dead, long cold stone dead, 6 feet under dead and the house went with them. He was left the bare minimum in their wills, a small but decent lump sum of money and a collection of Belgian portraits his father had collected towards the end of his life. That he’s been living in this hotel room for the last 5 years.
“Jesus Christ, Akabane,” Gakushuu can’t help but gawk. It’s still fucking tragic. “Where is-?”
“Storage. I don’t really live off a lot,” Akabane turns to look at the small pile of his own personal affects. “So. Yeah. You already know I was gonna…”
“Yeah. Jesus, Karma, yeah. Fuck,” They’re close enough for Gakushuu’s to hear the other’s breathing. “What the fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck.”
And then Akabane kisses him.
Akabane doesn’t have a permanent residence. Akabane’s been living out of a case for the last 10 years. Akabane has been in love with Gakushuu for double that. Akabane is kissing Gakushuu.
“After everything?” Gakushuu asks him, after he pulls away. This is better than last time which was better than the time before that. He definitely does not hate kissing Akabane, he decides. He’s not drunk, instead hyper aware and painfully sober and he decides he does not hate this, which is a win, he supposes.
Akabane nods slowly. He really is gorgeous. “After everything.”
Gakushuu isn’t sure he can do love; isn’t sure he can even process it or deserve half of what love actually is, but nothing really matters beyond these 4 walls. California is a million lightyears away, a speck on the marble of life and honestly, Gakuhou Asano can go fuck himself, well and truly. Karma, who has always been the terminus of everything, is here and alive and he’s maybe the only thing that has mattered since the very beginning of time itself.
He should tell Akabane he loves him. He should but he doesn’t.
Instead, he reaches over to intertwine his fingers with Akabane’s, long and cold, and he squeezes gently. A breathless moment passes, where all of time seems to stretch and fold into infinity like a mausoleum of all sense of liminal space before Gakushuu squeezes Akabane’s hand again.
He just hopes it’ll be enough for now.
Gakuhou Asano passes in a hospital room alone, attended to only by his nurse. He was cold by dawn. Out with a whimper, not a bang.
ACT VI
Gakushuu doesn’t go to the hospital. He shreds the letter, deciding to sell the house. Secretly, he’s glad. He feels like he should be beaten up over this, but he feels a sense of closure that is unfamiliar and yet comforting. He begins to go over the division of father’s estate with Yamamoto, which is efficient due to his father’s precise detailing. For the first time in a long while, he feels almost at peace, can see the fog clearing. He phones Helga.
“He passed in his sleep,” He tells her. It’s technically the truth. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” Again, another truth.
Helga, amazing and brilliant Helga, doesn’t pry further. “Okay. I’m sorry Gakushuu. I know this can’t be easy for you.”
“Thank you,” And then an idea flashes in his mind. “Also, if you get a chance, get Garrett from legal to send me an email.”
Garrett from Legal, punctual and reliable (and a great karaoke singer) emails within the next 20 minutes, asking what’s up. Gakushuu asks about green cards.
“I don’t celebrate my birthday,” Akabane shrugs, pulling a tight-lipped smile. December is nearing its end. The subway is packed most days. Most of Gakuhou’s estate has been accounted for. The house is the main issue now. Gakushuu says he’ll sell it. Akabane gets a cold. They eat dinner together every night, alternating between Akabane’s hotel room and Gakushuu’s house. Akabane buys a nice bottle of Moet, and they share it over Indian food. They’re talking about Christmas. “Haven’t for years.”
Gakushuu fights hard to roll his eyes; it’s just such an Akabane thing to do. “Of course, you don’t,” He spoons another portion of pilau rice onto his plate. “Do you celebrate Christmas then?”
“No?”
“But it’s Christmas.” Gakushuu insists.
Akabane raises an eyebrow, incredulous. “You celebrate Christmas?”
“They love it in the States,” Gakushuu mumbles. He had never celebrated Christmas Day before moving to America for university. Father would never have tolerated such a thing, not in a million trillion years. It was a concept so foreign to Gakushuu that not once did he complain. “I normally celebrate it on my own. Gets me out of being dragged to someone else’s dinner.”
Akabane nods, almost wistful. “I can’t imagine anything worse than being dumped at a table full of Americans and you’re the new person,” He clears his throat. “Well say now, I’m sure as rain you’re that kid from way over yonder in Tokyo.” He near enough sings, in a heavy Southern accent.
“I live in California, you know.”
“So? That is in the South?”
“Idiot,” Gakushuu seethes, secretly very pleased he got a chance to teach Akabane something he didn’t know. “There was a whole war about this. The Union?”
“Not in my lifetime, no sir,” Akabane shakes his head. “Man, have they Americanised you? You gonna name all 50 states next? Stand for the flag?”
Gakushuu’s cheeks heat up and he doesn’t know why. “Shut up. Shut up. You’re just deflecting because you know you’re wrong.”
“Or what if I just like seeing you mad. Has anyone ever told you are very cute when you’re mad?” A long, heavy silence passes. The look Gakushuu gives Akabane is near enough thunderous. “So… it’s a no on the cute thing? On both counts?”
“Shut up. Shut up. Shut. Up. Seriously, not another word. Not even one,” Gakushuu lectures, pointing at Akabane. “We’re having Christmas dinner. That’s final.”
“Ugh. Fine. You’re a Christmas fascist,” He groans. “American fascist. American Christmas fascist.”
Despite all his grumbling, they have Christmas dinner in the Asano residence, surrounded by packing boxes and a distinct lack of furniture. They share a small joint of honey roasted ham together. Akabane tells Gakushuu that it’s just Christmas, not his birthday but Gakushuu buys Akabane a gift anyways. He scrawls on the gift wrap in Sharpie: Merry Christmas and a Happy Birthday. Love from Gakushuu.
On the eve of his birthday, and thus the new year (the first year without his father), Gakushuu dreams of his mother.
INTERLUDE- MERCY
Mercy Jensen was the youngest daughter of a family of 8. Born into a ranching family 25 miles east of Buffalo, Wyoming, she was helping around her family’s farm from as young as 3 years old. Her oldest brother, Elijiah, had died fighting in the Korean War and her second youngest brother, Wallace, died of scarlet fever only a few years after they had buried an empty casket for Elijiah. The stress was too much for her mother.
Her father’s back went after his 60th birthday, when Mercy was just 10 and then, that meant it was up to Mercy, her two other brothers- Magnus and Spencer- and her only sister, Alma to look after the ranch. They were dairy farmers primarily, so the cattle came first.
Mercy Jensen was not content with shovelling manure her whole life and thus decided, on the eve of her 11th birthday, that she wanted out. Out of Wyoming, with its square lots and long drawl. She decided on the Eastern seaboard, at a minimum. Europe was always an option too. Spencer was a little runt of a thing, a little too scared to wonder far from their father and Alma was eying to settle down with her long-time boyfriend, the pastor’s son from a few towns over but she was different. She was not built for this life, of calloused hands.
She had her sights set on Yale or Brown or MIT or Oxford or McGill or NYU or Toronto or Harvard, somewhere, anywhere. Magnus, however, refused vehemently.
“We need all of us here,” He spat through mouthfuls of mashed potatoes. “Too much work for you to go prancin’ off to community college.”
“I’m not goin’ to community college, Magnus,” Mercy Jensen replied. “I’m goin’ go to Harvard.”
At this, Magnus laughed, a half-snarl with a hyena smile. “Harvard? Harvard, Nebraska?”
“No, Magnus, Harvard, Massachusetts.”
Magnus said Mercy probably thought she was better than the rest of them and Mercy hated he was right.
She gets into Harvard, through sheer bloody hard work. The only person who would come with her to the airport was Spencer, who also gives her a lift there. He had turned out taller than Magnus but almost half his weight. Out of the remaining Jensen siblings, he takes most after their mother, Josephine.
Spencer gives her a big hug in front of the departures board. He tells her to come back and visit them sometime. Mercy says she will.
Mercy Jensen meets Gakuhou Asano on Friday the 13th in February of her second year at Harvard. Unlucky for some. To say she fell in love with him on first sight would be a major overstatement. To say that he fell in love with her on first sight would be almost entirely accurate.
They wouldn’t speak for another 2 months, until one day, when it’s still chilly, Gakuhou decides to sit next to her in one of the coffee shops near campus and strikes up conversation. He introduces himself- one Gakuhou Asano- and says very simply that she is the most beautiful girl he has ever seen before.
“If you’re interested, I would very much like to get a drink sometime.”
Mercy’s first thought was that his English was better than hers. A little formal but still. Her Midwestern drawl was jagged and rough compared to the smooth East Coast accents she was now surrounded by. Gakuhou was Japanese and his English was better than hers and his smile contained a warmth she had never felt before.
She had boys interested in her back in Wyoming, but Gakuhou was no Wyomingite. Mercy considers her options for a few moments.
“Well, we’re in a coffee shop now, aren’t we?”
Gakuhou blinks, once, twice before settling into a relaxed smile and that is how Mercy Jensen and Gakuhou Asano became a thing.
Mercy’s father, Pat, dies on the eve of her final exam of the year at Harvard. She goes back to Wyoming for the funeral, secretly thinking of Gakuhou the whole time. Alma and her husband, Jeffrey, aren’t present. Magnus looks older than he is. Spencer has a beard.
She catches an earlier flight back home, back to Massachusetts and decides to go out on a date with Gakuhou when she lands back down in Harvard.
After graduation, Gakuhou says he’s moving back to Japan, where he has plans to open a school. Mercy thinks of Wyoming and its square fields and even geography and acidic sun and Alma and Spencer and even Magnus and says okay, let’s move to Japan. She thumbs through a Japanese dictionary on the flight over, Gakuhou occasionally leaning into her ear to whisper crude phrases and slang.
They marry 5 months after they move, in a courthouse wedding,
After they find a place outside of Tokyo, a huge showroom of a thing that is so different from the ranch in Wyoming in all the right ways, Mercy gets a call; Alma has been killed, murdered by Jeffrey. At the funeral, a terribly depressing affair, Gakuhou has to stop Magnus from trying to fight one of Spencer’s friends. Mercy tries very hard to not to throw up.
10 weeks before her due date, her first child, Spencer takes his own life. The news doesn’t surprise her, not really; she’s expecting this for a long time, maybe since the day she left for Harvard. Gakuhou worries about travelling in her condition, but she manages to convince him otherwise. Mercy once again travels to Wyoming, Gakuhou in tow, for a funeral. As they lower Spencer into the ground, Mercy vows to never return ever again.
When Magnus passes, she sticks to her word and doesn’t return. She does look through the local paper obituaries, though, and sees that all omit her as surviving him. It should probably sting but it doesn’t, and Mercy doesn’t even care.
“If it’s a boy…” She rubs her tummy, mumbling. Gakuhou made carbonara. She’s nursing a glass of cranberry juice. “Spencer would be nice.”
Gakuhou only smiles.
Mercy Jensen died due to complications during childbirth, survived only by her husband, Gakuhou, and newborn son, Gakushuu.
“Come back to California with me,” Gakushuu offers. They’ve done this before. Like a tape, it loops over and over and over. Gakushuu wonders how much of his life has been spent having the same conversations with people. “I can pay for everything. Please. The fresh air will be good for you.”
“I do have a job, you know,” Akabane protests. “I can’t just pack up and leave unannounced. And then there’s the whole visa thing-”
“-I can get you a green card-“
“And then what? What if nothing works out and I’m left relying all on you? The optics alone are…”
“That wouldn’t…” Gakushuu licks his dry lips. “Fuck what anyone says. You could live any life you wanted. You could divorce me straight away and block me. I don’t care. Just having you close would be…”
Akabane soothing rubs his thumb over the back of Gakushuu’s hand. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” He says very smally.
Gakushuu sighs. He knows this. “Take a holiday. Make up an excuse. Tell them to screw it all,” He wraps his arms around Akabane tentatively. The touch is warm, but Gakushuu still shivers. For a brief moment, he wonders if Akabane can feel it too. He’s still used to… this… but more importantly, the closeness, the intimacy. He’s not really sure where he ends and Akabane begins but this just emboldens him further. “You could quit your job. Work for me. Or someone else. I can write a reference.” He whispers into Akabane’s shoulder.
“I can’t- That’s not just something I can-“ Akabane’s frustration manifests as he stutters, struggling to explain himself. “This isn’t fair.” He says in a quiet voice.
Gakushuu closes his eyes, rests his head on Akabane’s collarbone (and for once is somewhat glad Akabane got an additional growth spurt after all these years). “I know,” He says, muffled ever so slightly. “I know. I’m sorry. I just wanted to be selfish. I’m sorry.”
Akabane pets Gakushuu’s hair, taken aback by the other’s honesty. He threads his fingers through the strands of hair, playing with some locks. It’s soft and light and it’s like silk to Akabane. “We can figure something out. Maybe I do quit my job. Maybe I do move out there. Maybe we do marry. That’s something that’s gotta be planned,” He rests his head on top of Gakushuu’s. “We can talk about it later, okay?”
Gakushuu thinks on this. “Okay.”
They work enough out. It’s not everything but neither expect that. It’s enough, for now.
When they arrive at the gate before security, Akabane sweeps Gakushuu up into a tight hug. “I don’t think I have ever pre-missed someone so much,” He tries to half joke, but Gakushuu can see through it. “If I had it my way, I’d move California waaaaay closer to Japan.”
“It’s not that far,” Gakushuu tries to refute. “… I am going to miss you, though,” He buries his way out of the hug to look at Akabane. “My offer still stands, by the way. Always,” And then much quieter. “Always.”
Akabane strokes Gakushuu’s cheek. “I know, I know,” He gives a determined smile, but his eyes are full of tears. “I just need to think about it. But. It’s not a no.” And then whatever Akabane goes to say next is cut off by what sounds suspiciously like a sob.
“…Are you okay?”
“Eh?” Akabane breaks apart and raises his hand to his eye, shocked when he pulls it back wet. “Oh, man. Crumbs. I wasn’t joking when I said I’m gonna miss you.”
“Idiot,” Gakushuu whispers because it’s all he can say. “Idiot,” He hugs Akabane again. “I’ll dream of you.”
Akabane hums. “That’s a nice thought.”
EPILOGUE
He finds his seat, in first class and opens his carry-on luggage. He had sworn he was going to finish ‘War and Peace’ on the flight home. He was going to do it. This time for sure. He was going to read it. The plane takes off shortly after and Gakushuu watches as Tokyo disappears into a spirally labyrinth of itself, lights ablaze and glistening in the dark. He leaves his father behind. He leaves Akabane behind.
The cabin light is in ‘night-time mode’, so a cool shade of blue drapes over everything. Gakushuu turns on his personal light, intent on reading. A hostess approaches him with a small glass of champagne, which he takes and thanks her in English.
He cracks open his book, somehow looking even more battered than before and notices on the page with the title on it, a message scrawled in chicken scratch with a dull pencil:
’lol of course u r reading this. lololol u r ridiculous.’
And then, in a more legible fine print:
‘let me know if it’s good though?’
CODA- GAKUSHUU AND KARMA
Gakushuu Asano and Karma Akabane marry in a modest, out of state wedding, surrounded by friends and colleagues alike. During their vows, Karma cries. They both keep their own names.
After the wedding, Karma Akabane files for a citizenship, which he is awarded. After a little look around at different courses, he completes first a Masters, and then a PhD from UC Berkley in mathematical logic and set theory. After his PhD is awarded, he is offered tenure there. On the side, he is heavily involved with the campaign for California’s high speed railway line and has been noted specifically for his ideas regarding future infrastructure regarding a national programme.
Gakushuu Asano would stay on at Accelerate Enterprises until its merger with Dutch firm Cloudberry, after which Gakushuu would leave the company, citing creative differences. He takes a sabbatical immediately after and toys with the ideas of writing an autobiography. He decides against it. Instead, he takes interest in political journalism and eventually lands a job as the Deputy News Editor at the San Francisco Chronicle, where he would later win a Pulitzer Prize for his work regarding the Libyan Civil War.