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“Consider, once more, the universal cannibalism of the sea; all whose creatures prey upon each other, carrying on eternal war since the world began...and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself? For as this appalling ocean surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all the horrors of the half-known life.”
―Moby Dick
Goro came around to dawn from the wrong side, taking the night bus from Tokyo, then waiting for the first train in the morning from the prefectural capitol to come here. He could have made it a hell of a lot faster if he'd just taken the Shikansen—he was just dragging his heels.
He didn't go to the seaside house and knock. He just went out to the wharf and stood there in the dark, listening to the sound of the ocean as he waited. The waters looked calm, betraying nothing of what might lay beneath.
This area was more desolate that most—it had been far enough from the tsunami that nothing here was really wrecked, but a lot of people in the area had left, fearing radioactive contamination, and it was just the old holdouts who were sticking around. They carried out regular radiation testing around here, but even if officials said it was safe, the fish didn't sell as well anymore. All the young people had long since bailed on a rural fishing village like this, anyway. It was a dying place full of grey heads.
He was probably the youngest person here within a thirty kilometer radius. Him, and the one he was waiting for.
Eventually, a figure emerged from the old, traditional house up the hill, working his way down the winding path to the shore. When he saw Goro was waiting for him, he paused, icebox with his lunch in hand. The he started walking again, slower, this time.
“I wasn't expecting to see you again,” the man said, approaching Goro. It was weird to see him dressed in overalls and boots instead of an expensive suit. He still had the same face, same bald head, but he'd ditched the tinted glasses.
“Sorry to ruin your day,” Goro replied, not hiding the venom in his tone.
“If you were trying to ruin my day, you failed,” the man replied with a smirk, setting down his ice box. His heart may have been changed, but he was still kind of an asshole. “So what brings you here? Come to try killing me again? I won't stop you, if that's what you really want.” He looked straight at Goro, and he still had that same intimidating gaze, like he was boring down into you.
Goro broke eye contact first, turning his head aside. “No. That was a stupid idea.” A few months earlier, Goro had found out this was where this man had wound up after his pitifully brief prison sentence—the rich and powerful never did serve their proper time, but it wasn't like Goro could complain there, when he'd also gotten off next to scott-free for similar reasons. In short, none of Shido's crimes in the Metaverse had ever been proven, and several powerful people had wanted it to stay that way, so he'd gotten let off. Goro had spent a stupid amount of time running from said powerful people, but they seemed to have given up—for now.
So once Goro had been able, he'd come down here, gun in hand, fully intending to put a bullet between the man's eyes once and for all. But then the man had done the whole grovelling thing, and Goro hadn't been able to do it. They'd had a brief and stupid conversation about nothing, and in the end, he'd gone home empty-handed and feeling angrier and stupider than when he'd gone.
“I'm glad you're okay. I thought you might kill yourself, after that.”
Goro couldn't help his face twisting up then, but he just let it turn to anger as he gave the man a glare. “That's none of your fucking business. And don't pretend like you care.”
The man sighed, expression resigned. “Do you even hear yourself talk? You're more aware than anyone what the Thieves did to me.” He looked straight at Goro, and Goro couldn't hold his gaze for more than a split second. “I feel guilt, and a sense of obligation toward you, that and nothing more. And you know that.”
Goro knew it. And he hated it. He hated that he wished this man felt something else, that the change of heart and given him anything but guilt, or—and here was the real delusion—that Shido had felt something else even before that. Goro was probably just here to twist the knife a little more.
“Will you join me on the boat? The fish don't wait.” The man gestured over to the boat, picking up his ice box again.
“Whatever,” Goro said, but he turned to the wharf, following the man to the beat-up old eight-meter trawler he used for his work.
“Watch your step,” the man said, and Goro scowled, stepping onto the boat without even wobbling. He'd never been on a real boat before, but well, there were plenty of similar things in the Metaverse.
The man unmoored them from the dock, then took the driver's seat under the canopy in the middle, and Goro went to stand in front of it at the bow, and they headed out into the water.
The man just drove the boat for a long while, heading out into the ocean, and neither of them spoke. Goro quickly realized that it was damn cold over the water and he should have brought a warmer jacket, wrapping his arms around himself and tucking his gloved hands under his armpits. The ocean spray was probably going to fuck up his clothing. Goro really should have dressed for this.
“You want a jacket?” The man yelled to be heard over the sound of the engine, water and wind, offering his own puffy waterproof jacket, but Goro pretended he hadn't heard.
Eventually, they got out far enough that the man stopped the boat and started lowering the poles and nets, and with nothing much else to do, Goro just watched.
“So what brings you here?” The man repeated his question from earlier as he did things with ropes and poles that Goro didn't really understand. None of this suited him. Maybe the boat thing was on theme, but this was all very unlike him. Wasn't this beneath him?
Even Goro thought this was beneath him, and Goro wanted him dead.
Goro didn't have a decent answer to that question, though. “I don't have to tell you anything.”
“You're acting like a two-year-old,” the man said as he heaved a bunch of nets over the side. “I don't remember you being this petulant, before.”
“Yeah, because I had to kiss your ass, just like everyone else.”
“I'm not saying you need to flatter me. Just be straight with me.”
“I don't owe you anything.”
“I don't mean for my sake, you idiot. I mean do it for yourself.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The man paused in his task, crouched down, looking up at Goro. It was weird to be above him. It felt wrong. “Do you have anyone to talk to?”
That remark made Goro squeeze his arms tighter around himself, but at least he could blame the cold for that. “None of your fucking business.”
“I want to help you, if you'll let me. And if you're here, isn't that what you want? Because you know I'll do anything.”
“I don't want your fucking help,” Goro spat, and he knew it was a lie even coming out of his mouth, but it hurt far less than admitting the truth.
“Then why are you here?” The man pressed. “Why are you wasting your valuable time on someone you hate? Do you even know what you want?”
Goro squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Fuck you.”
The man sighed, then went back to his task of setting up the nets. “If you want to talk about things, let's talk. Tell me what you want.”
“I want...” Goro began, but he couldn't finish. There were too many things, and they were all too unclear, all just a mush. “...Why here? Why...fishing? What the hell are you doing?” He was surprised at how angry he sounded, asking this. He was angry about a lot of things, but this?
“Oh, you think this is below me?” Finished with the nets on one side, the man stood and smirked at him. “I would have thought so, too, before.” He nodded, then went to the other side of the boat to start on those nets. “But all those feelings are gone, now. It's strange. I used to want everything—I wanted to live in the city, I wanted a great apartment, I wanted people to respect me, I wanted to call the shots, I wanted women to fall all over me—but it's all gone. Poof. So I went back to my parents' old home. You could see them too, you know. Your grandparents are still alive.”
“I'm not interested.” Goro had never met a single family member worth remembering, and he doubted this side of the family would be any better. “They're probably trash, raising someone like you.”
“Oh, that's not true. Your grandmother is a sweet woman. Too sweet. She spoiled me rotten, treated me like her darling. She was so proud of every little thing I did, and well, I was pretty impressive, you know. Always top of my class, great at sports. I was student council president three years in a row, and by a landslide, too.”
“Glad to see you're still full of yourself.”
The man turned back at him to give him a self-deprecating grin. “Maybe I am. It doesn't feel like before, though. It just feels like nostalgia to me. Well, you're a chip off the old block when it comes to those sorts of achievements, aren't you?”
Even now, Goro was still happy to hear him say that, and he hated himself for it. He couldn't even say, I'm nothing like you, not only because he knew that was completely untrue—he was everything like the man he had once been, in all the worst and best ways—but because he couldn't bear to say that.
On the worst nights, when he really thought ending it might be the better idea, Goro thought that he had admired Shido. Still did.
Not this man, though. This man was a shell of his former self.
When Goro didn't reply, the man went on. “Anyway, as to your question. I spent some time wallowing, wondering how to make things up. I reached out to some people I'd wronged—rather foolishly. I don't think a verbal apology or a letter from me will help anyone, though I tried to put my money to good use. I got rid of most of it, though I kept some for you, if you want it.”
“I already said no,” Goro spat. He'd taken plenty of Shido's money already—been paid, rather. He didn't want any more of it.
“Thought so,” the man sighed, “Even without me, the political engine keeps on running. I was basically chased out here. It's too suspicious to have me killed right now, but nobody wants me around, ruining everyone else's career and reputation by exposing them. So I figured if I wanted to do good, I should do something for my parents, as long as they're still alive. ...And for you, if you chose to come here.”
“What could you possibly do for me?” Goro sneered.
Back to Goro, the man resumed unloading the nets into the ocean. “How many people can you talk to honestly? I'm someone you don't have to lie to, at least. You can vent at me. Do you have anyone else?” When Goro didn't answer, he continued, hesitantly. “What about...that person you mentioned last time?”
Goro winced, turning his back to the man to lean against the side of the driver's canopy. When Goro had come here before, he'd been...rather fucked up. With a few months distance, he now realized that he'd had a whole bunch of shit coalescing at once into one big, fat, embarrassing breakdown.
This man's release from prison, for starters. That had put Goro on edge. He'd still be jumping at every shadow, fully believing he was going to get shot around a corner at some point. But even while being afraid for his life, he'd still somehow had the fucking time and small brain energy to date Akira fucking Kurusu.
Akira had picked the same university Goro attended—he hadn't even told Akira about his choice, but apparently you couldn't escape Akira Kurusu. And they'd started up again, this time, seriously, with titles and promises that Goro had known neither of them could keep. And inevitably, Goro had pulled shit on him—all of the shit. Like the ace detective he was, Goro dove into Akira's phone and social media to make sure Akira wasn't cheating on him. He would sometimes vanish from Akira's life for weeks, then show up again—he came up with reasons each time, but deep in his gut, he knew it was because he wanted to see that same look on Akira's face from before, when he'd just been so glad to see Goro alive—Goro wanted, needed to make sure Akira still felt that way. Goro didn't want to tell any of Akira's friends they were dating, and Akira kept his secret. Akira put up with all of it. And Goro hated it. He hated that Akira forced himself through all of this for—for what? It wasn't normal, it wasn't sane. Goro was an inch away from doing far worse, and he thought about it all the time. Goro had nothing to offer, and he was just draining Akira dry.
But then, when Akira had found out that Goro still had that gun, when he had dragged out of him that he kept it just in case he ever wanted do put an end to it—Akira had given him an ultimatum: get psychological help, or we're breaking up.
Goro had said no. He'd kept the gun. And Akira had left him.
Of course, of course this wasn't surprising. What was sexy and exciting and powerful when you were living on the edge of life and death, playing cat-and-mouse games with the match you never knew you'd meet, didn't make for a stable long-term relationship. And Goro had been waiting for this to happen for a solid two years. Waiting for the moment when Akira would wake the fuck up.
Just, apparently, part of him really had believed that Akira would stay with him, no matter what. And it had kind of broken him a little. Or a lot. He'd showed up here on the beach with the gun Shido had given him and made some kind of rant that had probably included something like, what does it matter when you don't want me, nobody does, you don't even want to fuck me anymore, even he doesn't—
It was frankly embarrassing to remember.
“Read between the lines, we broke up,” Goro scowled.
The man's hands stilled on the nets. “I'm sorry.”
“I've heard that enough from you.”
“But I am. It's because of what I did that you're...” The man's back was turned to him, his eyes on the water.
“That I'm what, broken?” Goro rolled his eyes.
“That you've turned to men,” Shido said after a moment's hesitation.
Goro was shocked for a moment, then burst out laughing, hard, slapping his leg as tears came to his eyes. “Aha-ha-ha...that's...you think...” Then he burst into uncontrollable laughter again.
The man stood up, turning to face him. “What's so funny?”
Goro finally got himself under control, wiping his eyes with one hand. “Oh, my stomach hurts. And here I thought you were smart. Did you really think your cock could turn me gay? You weren't even the first to lay their hands on me. And that's not even how it works. Aha-ha! Wow, you're a dumb fuck. How did you even get elected?” Goro continued snickering for quite some time after that.
The man looked mildly offended, scowling, then turned back to the nets again. “I'm just sorry you have to live that life.”
Goro scoffed. “Liking dick is the least of my problems. Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair—the wind had messed it up onto a total tangle. “Dating is a bad idea for me, anyway. I've always been better on my own.”
“Bullshit.” Finishing up with the nets, the man stood up and faced him again, looking him straight in the eye in that way that Goro had always found hard to take. “You want to know what I honestly thought of you, back then? I could tell. I could smell the vulnerability on you the way a lion smells a deer's fear. I've always had a sense for that, and I've made use of it over and over to get what I want. I knew, instinctively, that I could use you, because you were desperate for anyone to give a shit about you. I knew if I could dig into that, make you feel like I needed you, then I would have your loyalty. So you can lie to yourself about it, but you can't lie to me.”
Goro's knees felt weak. He just stared at Shido as he returned to the driver's seat and started up the engine.
The real fucked-up thing was that his tone, the force in his eyes then, made Goro physically shiver. Nobody was as intense as he was. Knowing Shido had seen right through him the whole time, had that hand of control around his neck—it was enraging, but also made a small, sick, desperate part of him want to go back to it.
Goro leaned against the side of the driver's canopy and tried to gather himself. It wasn't working.
Shido began driving the boat, not as fast as before. He still had to raise his voice to be heard, but not as loudly. “If you want something, then go get it. I always did.”
“And look where that got you!” Goro replied in the same raised voice, looking off sideways into the water.
“I regret it now, but I never did then. It felt great.”
“What kind of advice is this?”
“The only kind of advice I know how to give. And if you're like I was, then you'll want lots of things. Chasing them feels a hell of a lot better than abandoning them.”
Goro slumped back against the side of the driver's canopy, just standing there for a moment. And then, before he could think twice, he spun around the thin wall, stepping up behind the driver's seat, grabbed Shido from behind, by the jaw, and turned his face, leaning down to kiss him.
Shido's lips were still underneath his. And then he pushed Goro away—firmly, and decisively. “You don't really want this.”
“What do you know what I want?” Goro hissed.
Shido turned to face ahead again. “Go back to that boy who dumped you and make him take you back.”
Goro clicked his tongue. He hadn't mentioned that Akira had dumped him, and it irritated him that Shido saw right through him so easily.
Shido was silent a while, just driving the boat around in a particular zig-zaggy pattern that was making Goro sleepy—or maybe that was just the sleep deprivation.
Then he said, out of the blue, “You should go into politics.”
“...What?” Goro was just confused.
“You're suited for it.” When Goro opened his mouth, Shido cut him off and continued. “I'm not saying you should be like I was. You're someone who needs a mission, a battle, to keep you satisfied. And politics is a never-ending battle. If you want to fight for what you believe in, then take it there. See if you can hold onto your convictions. ...I think if anyone can, you might be able to.”
Shocked rather silent by Shido's suggestion, Goro could only argue, “...Impossible, with my background.”
“On the right, sure, but not on the left. A good narrative about struggling through adversity can be a great sell. People love a good story, cheering for an underdog. You just need to spin it right. And you know how to handle the media.”
The last thing Goro had expected out of his life was to be standing on a dinky little fishing boat behind his father, the fallen politician who had made his life hell, giving him advice on a future political career. It was kind of fucking surreal.
“You have no fear when it comes to your career, that's good,” Shido continued, filling the silence. “I was like that, too. I just went for it, every time, for better or for worse. You know, once when I was a teenager, I went out on the ocean in the middle of a storm. It was fucking crazy, but I'd decided I was going out that day, so I went out, and it was a real thrill. I liked the feeling like I was in the middle of a battlefield. Maybe that's why I came back here. I don't have the desire to fight anymore, but I just like being here. Maybe my luck will run out, and I'll finally be swallowed up.” Shido laughed like the idea excited him.
“But,” Shido went on, “you're afraid of people. That's not something I ever had, I guess I never cared. I still don't really care now...having your heart stolen won't give you emotional depth, I figure,” he mused as if it were as mundane as talking about the weather, and somehow, it was a bit of a relief to know that what had happened hadn't turned him into a fucking bleeding heart or fundamentally changed that he was a bastard, it had just given him a conscience to veer him away from the absolute worst of the worst—“You have the look of someone who's been beat up too many times, and you're waiting for a slap. You have to drop the fear.”
“Easier said than done,” Goro muttered. He didn't think Shido would hear him over the wind.
Shido's ears were sharp, though. “That's the attitude of a loser. And you're my son, so you're a winner.”
Goro's fingers tightened around the back of the driver's seat. He felt like he didn't have enough air. He wondered if Shido was just saying this as some manipulative ploy, but he didn't even care. He didn't want this to make him happy, but it did.
“Fuck you,” Goro replied, biting back a smile.
The wind beat around them as his father kept driving around the ocean, trawling over its treacherous depths with the fearlessness that Goro still admired.