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Kiryu sat on a folding metal chair, next to the makeshift hospital bed in the tiny room in Little Asia that was somehow still the best they could do. He averted his eyes while Tachibana pulled his shirt back on. One cuff slid in place over his tattoo. The other caught on the thumb of his prosthesis. He inhaled.
“Kiryu-san. Have you ever felt like you’ve lost someone who’s still there? You see them all the time, but it feels like they’re gone?”
Kiryu looked up from fidgeting with his watch. “Hm. I don’t think so.”
“Ah. Well, it’s a lot like losing your right hand. You feel a lot, like it’s— like it’s still there. But it always hurts.”
Kiryu mouthed a silent “Oh,” choking on what Tachibana could only assume would’ve been a mumbled apology, before going back to focusing even harder on his watch. Just as well. Too young, he was, to be thinking about something like that. Tachibana sighed and began on his buttons.
One. 1984. Shady tattoo parlor in Sotenbori. Wei Tian’s grasp on his right hand, returning his firm grip.
Reassuring. Li Hua blinked through the pain and Wei Tian’s face came into focus. So different from the man he beat up in the street. Smile as bright as the red shirt he wore. Li Hua made a mental note to tell him how much red suits him, when he wasn’t grimacing in pain. His eyes tracked down to the needle, in the tattooist’s skilled hand, in contact with his left forearm. He finished outlining the leaves around the bat and withdrew to swap colors.
Wei Tian squeezed his hand and let go. “You’re doing great! Barely even breaking a sweat, unlike my sorry ass when I got mine.”
Li Hua returned the smile, missing Wei Tian’s hold for a split second. “You flatter me.”
The tattooist’s assistant saved him from having to contemplate the weight of missing . “Bats, huh?”
Li Hua met the assistant’s gaze and followed his eyes to Wei Tian’s ink, red flames peeking through his rolled sleeve, brilliant and bright.
“The Chinese words for bat and luck are homophones. So, in traditional Chinese iconography, bats are associated with the five fortunes. Health, wealth, long life, love of virtue, and peaceful death. "
Wei Tian laughed. "Little ironic, for guys like us to have good fortune in some of those."
"There can be great beauty in irony, don't you think? The five bats are thought to also correspond to the five elements: fire, water, earth, metal, and wood."
"So… fire and wood?" echoed the assistant.
"In the creation cycle, wood begets fire," Li Hua said, regarding Wei Tian with soft eyes. Maybe that was what his life up until this point in this country has been missing. Feeding that spark. Feeling warm. Belonging somewhere.
Two. 1984. Turning the doorknob of the new apartment.
“It’s not much,” Li Hua said, letting himself and Wei Tian into the cheap studio, “but we’re going to be operating out of one place for a while, and I found it practical and affordable.”
“Is, uh—” Wei Tian’s voice trailed off. Li Hua turned to look. Wei Tian’s wide eyes were focused on the single queen size mattress atop some pallets. Flushed, like some kind of teenager . Red really did suit him. Li Hua took his hand and entwined their fingers, other hand on the small of his back.
“As you can see, there’s not a lot of space on our limited budget and… It seemed like the natural progression of where this was going,” he said, “I hope you can forgive me for spending that money on nicer sheets.”
Wei Tian finally found his words. “What— What are we?”
Li Hua spun him around, pushed him down on the “bed”, and climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. “What we are, Wei Tian, is unstoppable ,” he whispered against his lips.
Li Hua exhaled cigarette smoke, right hand resting on Wei Tian’s head, twirling his soft curls around his fingers. “I never answered your question, did I?”
“You did. Unstoppable.”
“But that was something of an evasion. Unfair to you. In my estimation, you are mine, and I am yours. Of course, this is only my feeling on the matter,” he said, a serene smile crossing his lips, nothing like his pounding heart. “I hope that you agree.”
Wei Tian mulled it over for a second. “Even if you weren’t mine… I’d be yours.”
Li Hua’s smile disappeared. This was a bit troubling , so to speak. He hoped it would never come to that. Seemed unlikely. He watched the smoke dissipate and let his unease do the same. He put out the cigarette in the tin-cup-turned ashtray on top of a milk crate, and pulled Wei Tian close.
“ Yours ,” whispered Li Hua, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.
He woke up still holding Wei Tian, unable to feel his right hand under him. He smiled to himself. Best reason he could think of to allow his circulation to be constricted in this manner.
Three. 1985. Waking up to the familiar sound of Wei Tian’s ragged breathing.
Close. The arms supporting Li Hua were definitely Wei Tian’s. Would ease the tension if not for the immeasurable pain . He opened his eyes. Ah. What was left of his right forearm was wrapped in what used to be Wei Tian’s shirt, soaked in blood. Memories flooded back, in flashes. The face of the rival gang leader. The bastard reaching into his coat. Lining up the shot. His still-attached finger curling around the trigger. Firing. Connecting. Realizing what just landed in front of him. Throwing himself in front of Wei Tian. Explosion. Hitting the ground. Everything black.
“Li Hua, you’re— I’m so fucking— sorry.” Wei TIan’s voice sounded... real . “I’m— You... you were incredible.”
Li Hua’s head spun. “Wei Tian.”
“Yes… Li Hua?”
“Don’t let me die.”
“Never, as long as I breathe,” Wei Tian’s shaky voice faded out. Everything black, again.
Everything blurry. Wei Tian’s brown eyes, tinged with red, creased with concern, underscored with exhaustion. Still beautiful. Everything would be okay, then, he knew. Li Hua sat up and braced against the pain. Wei Tian’s warm, gentle hands on his shoulders.
“If you don’t mind, sir,” said someone else’s voice. Wei Tian nodded and stepped out of the way. The man who replaced him was Liu, the doctor who ran medical services for Sotenbori’s Chinese community out of the back of the mahjong parlor.
“We did everything we could, but we were not able to reattach the part of your arm that was blown off. My apologies, sir. I’ll walk you through what to do when we release you. On the bright side, I suppose… Your associate, here, never once left your side. Talked my ear off about how incredible you were, and how he wouldn’t be alive if not for you. I commend your bravery, sir.”
Li Hua smiled. Associate. “It’s nothing, really. Will that be all?”
“Yes. Let me know if you’d like your medicine increased. Your associate insisted we not give you too much, and let you make that decision for yourself.”
“Duly noted.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Liu exited the room.
Wei Tian took his remaining hand in both of his. “Li Hua… I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. This kind of thing, I should hope, does not require an apology. I would do it again, every time, if it’s what it took to mean you are still by my side.”
Wei Tian squeezed his hand. “Then how about thank you? Thank you for… everything.”
“Of course.”
“How are you feeling?”
“It may just be the painkillers talking… But I feel a sense of optimism. I may have lost my right hand, but I still have my right-hand man. Together, it hardly seems like something we cannot overcome.”
Wei Tian’s face had that adorable flush to it again. If Li Hua didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he saw his eyes sparkle . As much as he loved the sound of Wei Tian’s voice, he was truly at his best when rendered speechless. In those moments, they didn’t need something so mundane as words. Only understanding.
Four. 1986. Wei Tian’s shout from two rooms away.
“What the fuck is THAT?!”
Li Hua half-sprinted down the hall and threw the bedroom door the rest of the way open. Wei Tian stood atop the bed, sidearm drawn, and pointed at the ground.
It took all of Li Hua’s resolve not to laugh when he saw the target. “Wei Tian. What are you doing?”
Wei Tian did not take his eyes off the intruder. “I’m defending our household. When I walked in this thing was here.”
Li Hua approached to get a closer look.
“Ah, she must’ve come in through the open window. It has been an awfully hot summer.”
Wei Tian’s voice was incredulous. “ She?!”
“This is a female joro spider. You can tell by her colorful markings and her size.”
“Are you telling me there’s a bigger version out there?”
Li Hua chuckled softly. “In this case, no. The females are larger. Joro spiders are orb-weavers and their natural range extends to Korea and China as well as Japan.”
“Its natural range is about to extend to our bed, Li Hua.”
Li Hua crouched down and placed his prosthetic hand in the spider’s path. She crawled up his fingers. “The joro spider is associated with the tale of the jorogumo , a yokai said to have the power to transform herself into a beautiful woman who seduces men, binds them, and eats them.”
Wei Tian laughed sheepishly. “Well, guess neither of us have anything to worry about then, huh?”
Li Hua returned the smile. “Right you are.”
“But- should you, ah, really be letting it crawl on you? Aren’t those poisonous?”
“Poisonous? No. Poisonous refers to its toxicity if one were to eat it.” He raised his right hand toward Wei Tian. “Want a taste?”
Wei Tian jumped back not unlike a cat presented with a cucumber. “I’ll do anything for you. But I won’t do that .”
Li Hua laughed again. “The word you were looking for was venomous. And to answer your question, they are a bit venomous, but not enough to pose any danger to humans. A bite from one would be itchy and a bit painful, but that’s all.”
He walked to the open window and shook the spider off his hand. “Go on, little one.”
“You’re just going to let it go? How do you know it wasn’t with those bastards who fucked us over? We could’ve at least interrogated it,” said Wei Tian, sitting on the side of the bed, grinning.
“You’re right. Next time we find a spider in the shower I’ll let you waterboard it.”
“Those bastards took your arm and I’ll take seven of theirs!” Wei Tian said, pantomiming pulling them off one by one.
“Isn’t that a bit extreme, Wei Tian?”
“They left you with one and I’m taking the generous interpretation. Generous for us, of course.”
Li Hua sat down next to him and slid his good arm around Wei Tian’s waist. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He ghosted his fingers up Wei Tian’s back with a crawling motion. Wei Tian yelped and turned to see Li Hua’s hand and smirk.
“You dick!”
“You should’ve seen the look on your face,” Li Hua laughed, “It was very cute.” He watched Wei Tian’s color return.
“You’re a menace , Li Hua.”
“Mm, but I’m your menace.”
Wei Tian caught the menacing wrist in his hand. Li Hua foresaw one of those nights where his face would end up sore from smiling.
Five. 1987.
Li Hua and Wei Tian walked down an ornate stone path, escorted by an enthusiastic groundskeeper. Their newest client had insisted they get the grand tour of the entire estate before sitting down to talk business. Not the way Li Hua would have conducted business, but they were his guests after all. New money really was something. Seemed like he wanted to give the Osaka Castle a run for its money. A big iron gate loomed before them. The groundskeeper pressed some buttons on a panel and it swung open.
“It is my pleasure to show to you Furushima-san’s pride and joy. The menagerie. Here, he’s acquired dozens of exquisite species from across the world, for your observing pleasure.”
Li Hua held his tongue, but it would be dishonest to say it hadn’t crossed his mind that such a thing was the height of this era’s gross decadence. He couldn’t rightly defend taking such creatures away from their homelands for the sole purpose of entertaining the obscenely rich.
He nodded politely as the groundskeeper walked them past monkeys, parrots, meerkats, ostriches, alligators. A big tank of tropical fish.
“What you’re about to see, though, is by far Furushima-san’s most impressive,” said the groundskeeper, leading them to a large area surrounded by plexiglass. Inside was a single tiger.
“Go ahead, approach him.”
Li Hua made eye contact with the creature. The tiger stared back, listless. He turned to Wei Tian, standing close behind him, gaze as distant as the tiger’s natural habitat. He looked back, placing his gloved hand on the glass. The tiger regarded his hand with the same eyes. Li Hua gritted his teeth.
“Thank you for showing us the animals,” he said, finally.
Li Hua placed the briefcase of money he carried on the floor in front of the hotel room door. He stepped close and ran his hand up Wei Tian's thigh, sliding it into his slacks pocket.
"You did so well today. We got almost twice what we were estimating out of them," Li Hua murmured into his neck, closing his fingers around the room key and withdrawing it.
"Thanks," said Wei Tian, watching him get the door open with some effort. "Hey, lemme get that for you." He picked up the briefcase in addition to the two he already carried.
Li Hua locked the door behind them. He laughed softly. "You look ridiculous, carrying all those at once." He shrugged off his jacket and sat down on the bed. He took off his shoes and began the process of loosening his tie, watching Wei Tian with hungry eyes.
Wei Tian set down the cases. “Allow me.” He undid Li Hua’s tie. Li Hua squinted. His movements were mechanical. Like some kind of butler, rather than his lover of years . He thought about commanding him, Like you mean it , but that would just make everything worse, wouldn’t it? He shook his head and beckoned for him to sit down, too. Wei Tian obliged. Li Hua climbed up and knelt behind him, draping his arms around his shoulders. Wei Tian felt tense in his gentle hold.
“What’s wrong, Wei Tian?”
“Dunno… Guess I don’t feel well. Maybe the staff over there that gave us dinner forgot to wash their hands after they fed the tiger,” he said, lamely. He might as well be in a plexiglass enclosure, for all these answers he’d been giving were good for.
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
“Yeah… Of course.”
Li Hua rested his forehead on Wei Tian’s shoulder. Please relax , he wanted to insist. There had to be something, something he couldn’t know. Another man? Unlikely. Wei Tian didn’t seem the type, and his distance wasn’t an uncaring one, but some sort of… unfathomably painful, one. Li Hua exhaled. He thought, for sure, the adrenaline from signing such a contract would snap Wei Tian out of whatever this was. Always did the trick. But it hadn’t, and here he was, on the immaculate hotel bed, wishing he could be closer . Wishing he would say something, anything.
Six. 1988.
Tachibana placed the receiver back in its cradle on the opulent mahogany desk in the penthouse.
“And now, we wait,” he said.
“How long?” Oda’s voice came from the sofa, across the room.
Tachibana squinted at his watch.
“As of now, a minute and— 40 seconds. The delay is much shorter this time, as it is a test.” He made his way over to the wall and switched off all the lights. The neon glow from the streets bathed the room through the floor-to-ceiling window. The soft pink light on Wei Tian’s features made him ache in a way he wasn’t willing to address, not now. He let his gaze linger for a silent moment before turning to face the window. Thousands of lights, hundreds of businesses. He checked his watch again. Ten seconds. Oda joined him in front of the window, by his side.
It began. Exactly as planned. Right side first, moving left, the darkness encroached. He followed it with his right arm, as though the effect sprung forth from something in his prosthesis rather than careful planning and a considerable amount of money. He returned his hand to his side, making a mental note it would be less awkward, given the direction, to do with his left when the real time came. He grasped Wei Tian’s hand in his own, taking in the blackness, the control . Every single one of those was his . Like Wei Tian.
He ran his thumb over the back of Wei Tian’s hand.
“Excellent job. You didn’t miss a single property out there. It’s only natural that my right hand is still my best negotiator, even after all these years,” he said.
“Ah... Boss… You’re too kind,” Oda replied. Lights began to flicker back on as Tachibana’s heart went dark. Boss , again. He pushed down all the questions that leapt into his chest, again . When did he stop being Li Hua to him? When did Li Hua stop being his ? And when did Wei Tian stop believing he deserved kindness? Where was the man who would’ve pushed him up against the glass and kissed him breathless during Kamurocho’s five seconds of true night? When did he start waking up next to a stranger?
If he woke up next to him at all . Tachibana persisted nonetheless, pulling Oda close and holding him for a moment. He let go of him and took three steps towards their room. It took all his effort to look back.
“Will you… come to bed tonight, eventually… Wei Tian?” His voice wavered on the name. He didn’t need the lights on to know he was staring back with those strange, troubled eyes he could never quite read. Eyes that could only belong to Oda , the man who insisted on being his co-worker, his underling, like what they had meant nothing, but somehow everything, but that everything was wrong .
Seven. 1988.
Oda meticulously stacked bills in neat piles. He secured each with a band denoting the value. Tachibana observed from his leather chair. A two-handed task. Oda's lips formed silent words, a steady count, numbers so outlandish, Wei Tian and Li Hua never could've imagined. This much money could buy “anything”, and yet he still hadn't found Xiao Qiao, and had misplaced Wei Tian somewhere. Everything was so complicated now, working with this Kazama from the Tojo Clan. All the money in Kamurocho couldn’t buy simplicity, and certainly couldn’t buy what he needed.
Maybe money was the problem. They'd become what they'd laughed about so many times, together, sitting on the cracked floor of their first apartment, or in the front seat of the car Wei Tian stole. They lost something along the way, up in flames like that car, doused in gasoline, after their joyride was through. Left with only a burnt-out, unidentifiable frame.
Oda closed the first designer-brand briefcase, filled to the brim. Click. Tachibana’s eyes rested on Wei Tian’s brown striped jacket, inexplicably paired with white pants. A far cry from Wei Tian’s once-loud colors, but a choice Tachibana found oddly comforting, out of place in a position that seemingly demanded such elegance , but equally unsettling, that he’d relegate his fire to a few accessories and his hidden ink, smothered among the drab neutral tones.
His gaze wandered to the window. He grimaced at the lights. Perhaps, if the bubble popped, everything would be alright. Xiao Qiao’s property would become worthless, and every two-bit yakuza would stop trying to hurt her. He’d be able to find her easily, then. And maybe he’d even get to see Wei Tian’s genuine smile again. He’d have peace. Family. Anything but this.
___
Tachibana finished the last button on his shirt and smoothed it out. He watched Kiryu, still waiting patiently and avoiding eye contact. Too good for this world , and undoubtedly too good for the “talk” he’d given him after his little stint driving. How many more people would lie to this boy? Even with Kiryu’s infectious belief , Tachibana still couldn’t bring himself to believe his own story. To believe what he said about trust , about risking one’s life, and not knowing what it’s like, outside of using people.
He envied Kiryu’s unshakable drive to face problems head-on, without thinking, without overthinking , instead of running, jumping, vaulting through mental hoops this way. His absent right hand seared with pain, bringing him back to where he always landed, face-down, at the starting line. You don’t lose half your arm saving someone you were just using . He picked himself up again, every time, and turned his back on it. But it was always there.
It’s one thing, losing your right hand. You get through it; you figure it out. You cope. But losing it twice; that’s a little absurd. That’s when you start thinking maybe, the universe had it out for you.