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When Shunichi Ibe approached him with an opportunity to go to America, Eiji had low expectations. He was dejected, exhausted, hopeless—put simply, he was depressed. He’d healed from the injury that put him out of pole vaulting for months, sure, but he was weak. He wavered. His body wasn’t performing like he knew it could. He was frustrated, so much so that most people had gotten the (smart) idea to avoid him. Let him get mad. Let him yell. Let him glare at the elusive sport through seething tears.
Unfortunately—fortunately?—Ibe did not get this memo. He bothered Eiji nonstop, goading him into handling and setting up his equipment for shots, even pushing him to take a few pictures of his own. They were all shitty. Eiji was never good at anything artistic and precise like that. But Ibe loved to work with him. Eiji didn’t mind it either.
When Ibe asked Eiji about going to America, it was a shock to him. Surely, he’d be dead weight. He didn’t know how to take pictures. Eventually he’d end up breaking some of that precious equipment, wouldn’t he?
But Ibe asked so nicely. So hopefully. He even took care of getting his family on board. One visit from Ibe and his parents were practically begging him to leave as Eiji mulled the offer over.
He needed a change of scenery. A change of pace. A holiday in America might shift the trajectory of his life—which, admittedly, was going south faster than Eiji cared to admit. So, he went.
Eiji expected extravagance. Ridiculously high buildings that touched higher than mountains. Night skies dotted by the lights of bulbs instead of stars. Plates of food so massive it would hurt his stomach to just look at them. Streets full of cars burning through the amount of gas and miles his family used in a month.
Eiji, however, did not expect an impromptu road trip with three delinquents. Well, two delinquents and an old acquaintance of Ibe’s. Two out of the three having very recently been released out of prison on bail.
And yet, that is currently the state of Eiji Okumura’s life. That afternoon, they had set out for Cape Cod, this odd group of people, all on the hunt for banana fish. Technically, the final destination is Los Angeles, but Ash had made it clear when they got on the road that he had business to take care of first. Arguing with Ash was a futile exercise, and his instincts and intellect are surprisingly reliable, so Cape Cod it was.
A quick Google search had told Eiji that Cape Cod was a town in Massachusetts, a whole jumble of letters he would not be caught dead trying to pronounce out loud that was apparently a state. Popular for summer vacations, boasting exquisite beaches and plenty of shops and restaurants.
Ash had informed Eiji that Cape Cod was his hometown. He’d said it with carefully construed detachment, but his eyes betrayed him. There was a distinct quality of melancholy lurking in the depths of green, so potent it made Eiji want to look away. And he did not often want to look away from Ash.
In any case, Ash’s hometown holds plenty of his baggage, that much is clear. But to Eiji, Cape Cod is a refreshing escape from the overwhelming metropolitan of New York. In an odd way, it almost reminds him of home.
This is what he’s thinking about while he watches Ash and Shorter toss a worn football between them. They are both grinning, expressions so pure yet so oddly foreign. He feels as though he’s watching a rare moment in time in which the two boys are simply, well, boys, free of the weight of violence and streets and gangs.
“Uncanny, right?” Eiji looks to his right to see Max sitting down next to him on the grass, grunting as he spreads his legs out in front of him and balances his weight on his arms reaching out behind him. A similarly unreserved grin is worn on his face as Shorter starts to complain loudly about Ash’s “shitty throws.”
“It really is,” Eiji says. Ash has abandoned the ball to charge Shorter playfully. “Where’s Ibe-san?” he asks, glancing at Max.
“Having a drink with Ash’s old man,” he provides. Eiji’s nose wrinkles, his disdain clear. “I get it. He’s an odd guy. I see where Ash gets the unpredictability from.” Unpredictability. Not necessarily an incorrect evaluation of Ash, but one Eiji can’t quite agree with. It makes him sound unreliable. In Eiji’s experience, Ash is the direct opposite of unreliable.
He can still remember the feeling of the revolver in his hands, Ash’s steady hands moving over his own as he helped him aim and shoot, explaining in detail in an unwavering voice how to position himself, how to avoid flinching at the recoil and the sound, how to squeeze the trigger without hesitation. All of these points made Eiji a lousy marksman, so he should have listened, but his heart was beating so hard that it was hard to concentrate on anything but where Ash’s body was touching his own.
He had held and commanded a weapon. It was only bottles that he shot (and missed) at, but he held something that was capable of tearing through life. Ash had not only trusted him with that responsibility, but he’d guided him through it. Weirdly, that made Ash feel more dependable and more safe than the time he’d saved Eiji’s life.
“You’re not going to save Shorter?” Eiji asks, nodding back towards the two boys, now wrestling, football discarded on the grass beside them.
“Who says he needs saving?” Max asks with a raised brow. “He looks like he has the upper hand.”
Eiji grins. “Oh, Ash will find a way to win. He always does.”
As if on cue, the blond lets out a tenacious cry as he pins Shorter to the ground by his wrists. The other boy squirms under him, letting loose a barrage of curse words as Ash smirks like a Cheshire cat.
Eiji is surprised to look over and find Max watching them with a wistful expression. The older man notices his gaze and sighs. “I have a son of my own, y’know. A lot younger than those two. But, I dunno, I just look at them and I can’t help thinking about what he’s gonna be like at that age.” Eiji nods, feeling a bit lost. “I wonder what kind of person he’ll turn out to be. I have to be around to see it.”
The last bit feels very ominous, once again reminding Eiji how truly dangerous the world he’s gotten himself wrapped up in can be. But there’s fiery determination in Max’s eyes, and Eiji doesn’t doubt for a second the kind of father he is.
“I think I know what you mean,” Eiji says after a moment’s pause. He does not expect his heart to hurt so much at the thought of his little sister, but it almost knocks the wind out of him.
“Shunichi mentioned you had a sister,” Max says.
Eiji nods. “Yeah. She’s 12. She’s in...what I think you call junior high here, right?” Max nods. “She’s tough but she’s practically a baby. I can’t think of her as anything else.”
“Bet she hates that.”
“Oh yeah,” Eiji snorts. “Plus she can be really mean when she wants to.” He fishes his phone out of his front pocket, unlocking it with his thumb and swiping through his photo gallery. Max glances over at him, showing a polite amount of interest as Eiji scrolls past the various blurry, oversaturated, artsy shots he’s attempted on this trip. Finally, he finds the picture he’s looking for.
He gives the phone to Max, who examines it thoughtfully. It’s a photo from a year ago, around the time Eiji left high school. In it, Eiji is lifting his sister, who looks positively murderous, up onto his shoulders, like her weight is nothing. He beams at the camera, his head tilted to the side on account of the girl on his shoulders tugging at his black mop of hair, a bit longer than he keeps it now.
Max gives the phone back to Eiji with a chuckle. “She looks like quite a character.”
“She is,” Eiji says with a fond smile.
“Do you miss her?” Max asks.
“Of course.”
“Does she know you’re gay?”
Eiji’s head snaps back towards Max, eyes wide. “Um…” It’s like the breath has been knocked out of his lungs and he’s sputtering for words. He’s completely taken aback—did he hear Max correctly? Who asks something like that so casually ?
“You got a Grindr notification when you were showing me the picture,” Max confesses with a sheepish, apologetic grin.
The tension seems to evaporate from Eiji’s body, and instead of being frozen like a deer in headlights, he feels stupid. So stupid. His face feels hot with embarrassment. “S-Sorry.”
Max laughs, a hearty bellow straight from his stomach. “Don’t mention it. It’s not a problem.” He isn’t apologizing for bringing it up? Eiji thinks to himself, glaring at Max as he tries not to focus on how mortified this whole situation is. It’s a lost cause to expect Max to have any sort of tact.
“For the record, she doesn’t,” Eiji snaps. “Nobody really does right now,” he adds, less defensive.
“Shunichi?”
“He knows,” Eiji admits with a short nod. He had ended up coming out to Ibe hurriedly the day before they left for America. It was odd how difficult that had been, even though he knew Ibe himself was gay. He can’t even remember why the topic came about in the first place, or why he ended up crying after. It had been a really good cry, though. Like a weight had been taken off of his chest so that he could finally breathe properly. “Nobody else, though.”
“Honest, Eiji, I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was a whole thing,” Max says. His genuine tone and sad puppy-dog eyes command Eiji’s attention however much he wants to look away.
“It’s not a whole thing . I was planning on letting my family know when I got back.” The very thought makes Eiji want to vomit from nerves. He has no reason to expect them to be unwelcome to the idea, but… “My hometown isn’t like Tokyo. We don’t have pride parades or anything.” He’s matter-of-fact, but a lingering sadness clouds his expression. “That’s all. I’m not in some panic over my sexuality, so you don’t have to be delicate with me.”
“Gotcha. Heard loud and clear.” Max shoots him a reassuring smile. Eiji blinks, then returns it. “But, Grindr …?”
The smile disappears off of Eiji’s face. “Really? You’re going to judge me now?”
“No, no, I totally get it, hooking up is a super mainstream thing now and I think that’s great, I mean, we all have needs—”
“ I really need you to be quiet. ” Eiji’s tone is deadly and Max backs off immediately, remorseful. “I just figured nobody knows me here. In America, I mean. It’s… Freeing.”
Max nods. He waits, gauging whether or not he’s welcome to reply, before deciding to take the leap. “Right, right. I was just sort of surprised, that’s all, I mean, not to say you don’t seem like somebody with an active sex life”—a pointed look from Eiji—“but, um, don’t you…” Max’s gaze goes back to Ash. While Max and Eiji were talking, Shorter had admitted defeat and then launched a sneak attack on him. They were now milling about, the two of them worn out from horsing around. “Don’t you like him?”
Eiji frowns. He watches Ash as well. Ever observant, the blond loses his carefree demeanor when he notices the two pairs of eyes on him and steels himself once again. It makes Eiji feel almost sad to see him speaking to Shorter in a careful, curt manner, suddenly self-conscious. He doesn’t care for the mask Ash wears—the glimpses of the boy underneath are what enthrall him. “I’m not sure about him. He’s…” Eiji sucks in some air through his teeth as he thinks. “He’s complicated.”
“No shit,” Max agrees. “He’s a pain in the ass.”
“Well…” Ash turns around to say something else to Shorter. Admitting to Max that he’s admiring the view is a no-go. Eiji isn’t that crass, so he keeps that thought to himself. Right—Max. They’re having a conversation. Conversation with Max. “I don’t think he likes me. He gives very mixed signals,” he struggles to explain.
“You’re joking, right?” Max scoffs. Ash and Shorter begin to walk towards the two of them, and Max stands up to greet them, rubbing the back of his jeans to try and rid himself of any grass sticking to the fabric. Eiji does the same, shooting the pair an easy-going smile as they draw near. “Have you seen how he looks at you?” Max adds under his breath.
“Yo, Max, Eiji, did you see how I totally kicked Ash’s ass just now?” Shorter says with a lopsided grin. Max grunts something to the affirmative to entertain the guy while shooting a sly glance over at Eiji.
But Eiji isn’t looking at Max. Or Shorter. He watches Ash push back his blond hair slicked to his forehead with sweat, thin fingers combing through the strands with ease. His cheeks are flushed, his lips slightly parted. The rise and fall of his chest is staggered as he tries to catch his breath. His expression, on the other hand, seems stoic, almost empty.
And those brilliant emerald eyes. The moment they meet Eiji’s, Ash’s entire face softens. “Hey, Eiji.”
“Hey, Ash.”
Shorter is now trying to challenge Max to a fight. Eiji wasn’t listening but if he thinks hard enough he can remember Max calling Shorter out on his bluff over beating Ash and now he’s trying to rile Max up. His tall purple mohawk reminds Eiji a bit of the plumage of a male peacock, especially now as he hops around trying to get in literal jabs at Max. “Shorter, Old Man. Go let Ibe know we leave tomorrow afternoon. We’re not going to be stopping anywhere else, so take it all in while you can.”
Max spins around to make the trek back to the diner and Shorter follows, now asking about the journey ahead instead of the intricacies of hand-to-hand combat. Eiji figures he should get some rest and he takes his own leave. Ash joins him, and they walk side by side back to the rundown house on the hill.
“Eiji.”
“Mm?”
“I don’t think I’ll be teaching you to shoot anymore,” Ash says.
“Why not? You don’t think I’m tough enough?”
“Yeah,” he says matter-of-factly. He glances down at Eiji, green eyes sharp on him. “But I also don’t like the look of you with a gun.”
“I do. I think it’s a rather powerful image,” Eiji says lightly. It’s a mismatch in Ash’s tone and he knows it. He’s just a little taken aback by the practical, serious way Ash is speaking.
“You don’t need to be powerful. That’s all I’m saying. You don’t need to be shooting anything or anybody, not when I’m around. I’m the best shot out of anybody here,” he says, finally letting up to shoot Eiji a dry smile. “Including our former soldier Max.”
“You don’t want me to know how to shoot a gun because it makes you look less cool? You Americans can be very self-centered.”
“You think I look cool with a gun?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.” Eiji smiles at Ash, innocent in a teasing way.
“Sly fox. Have fun sleeping on the floor… I mean it, though. I’ve got it. I can protect you.” When Eiji looks back at Ash, who’s stopped walking, bringing them both to a halt, that same gentle look is on his face. Max’s words come back to mind and it makes Eiji blush. He’s definitely got butterflies in his stomach right now.
He will play along. He will act as the damsel in distress, as Ash would like him to. Just to see those green eyes regard him with such warmth again. Eiji wants to explore these moments that make his heart race. Maybe something will come of it. Maybe nothing will.
But Eiji, despite it all, has his hopes high.