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"What do you do," Jun asked, every word an effort, "when it feels like you’re drowning and you can’t escape?"
Tetsu looked at him, his eyes red and weary.
Jun looked up at the second floor of Tetsu's house, waiting for the light to go on.
The early morning air was cold, fall truly starting to give way to winter, but Jun didn't feel it.
He couldn't feel it.
He looked down at the phone in his hand. The call was still ringing. It rang and rang until it eventually gave up, Tetsu's default voicemail message coming out of the speaker. Jun hung up and tapped the screen to call again, his arm falling to his side, the phone ringing in his hand as he watched the window.
"Tetsu," he muttered in the dark, his breath catching in the air. He ended the call as soon as he felt voicemail pick up. He tapped on Tetsu's name again. "Please."
His third call was declined after two rings and the light went on.
Jun shoved his phone into his pocket and moved to the front door.
Tetsu appeared in the doorway a few minutes later.
He looked at Jun standing outside in the darkness. He rubbed his eyes with his hand and looked at Jun again. He was in his sleep clothes, a pair of faded blue sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt that hung low past his waist. His hair was mussed in a way Jun would've appreciated at a different time, most of it swept to one side at an angle, a sign that he'd fallen asleep after his bath before it was dry.
He looked tired.
Jun imagined he looked the same. Worse, even; he was here waking Tetsu up when he'd barely slept at all.
He would feel guilty about disturbing Tetsu's sleep if he was capable of feeling anything other than the gnawing pit of despair in his gut.
Tetsu yawned. "Jun?"
"I can't-" Jun tried, the sentence failing. He was so tired. "I can't sleep."
Tetsu nodded. He stepped back, holding the door open for Jun.
Jun entered the house, toeing off his shoes as Tetsu closed the door on the cold, early morning air.
He followed Tetsu up to his room, his senses thawing in the warmth of the house. He could feel guilt coat his tongue as he climbed the stairs, the house dark and still, the light from Tetsu's room casting long shadows along the floor. He shouldn't be here. Waking Tetsu was selfish; potentially disturbing the rest of his family was incredibly rude.
He shouldn't have come.
He was asking too much.
Jun stopped at the threshold to Tetsu's room, an apology clawing its way up his throat.
Tetsu sensed him stop. He turned around, taking Jun by the hand and leading him to his bed. A hand on his shoulder was all it took for Tetsu to make Jun sit.
"It's fine," he said. He squeezed Jun's shoulder. "I'll be right back."
Jun's hands fell to Tetsu's bedding, his fingers curling in the blankets as Tetsu gathered some clothes and left for the bathroom. He returned before the empty room became too deafening, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, looking slightly more awake.
His hair was still sticking up on one side.
It almost made Jun smile.
Tetsu took a jacket from his closet, turning to look at Jun as he pulled it on. He brought a second jacket over to where Jun sat and draped it over his shoulders. Jun took the cue, sliding the jacket on but refraining from zipping it up as he followed Tetsu from the room.
They left without another word.
The mochiya wasn't far from Tetsu's house.
It was about as far as Seido was but in the opposite direction. They took the train because it was faster; the station where they got off was only two blocks from the store. The walk was unnaturally quiet, the rest of Tokyo still sleeping as they rounded a corner and slipped down the alley that led to the back of Tetsu's family's mochi store.
Tetsu let them in, holding the door open for Jun.
It was unlocked. The lights were on.
There was life in the darkness.
The back room was where they cooked the rice and prepared the mochi. The heat hit Jun first, hot clouds of steam filling the room, pouring out of the stacks of rice being cooked. The steam mingled with the sounds of mixing and kneading, the former mechanical, the latter manual.
Tetsu's uncle, Isamu, stood off to the side, his back to them as he moved over a large stone mortar.
"Good morning, Uncle Isamu," Tetsu said.
Isamu turned, waving his hand. "Good morning! Tetsuya, take that inside. It'll save me a trip."
Tetsu nodded and picked up the large wooden tray on the stand next to Isamu. It was barely able to contain the steaming mass of mochi piled on it.
"Nice to see you again, Jun," Isamu said, turning back to the next batch.
Jun cleared his throat. "You too, Isamu-san."
He followed Tetsu into the main kitchen, the smells in the air changing as they moved from room to room. The back room smelled of rice steaming and cooking, the air humid with a scent Jun knew by heart. The kitchen smelled of azuki beans and sugar, the sweetness in the air striking after coming in from the back room.
Tetsu's grandma oversaw the making of all of the store's azuki bean paste. She stood on a step stool in front of the stove, four different pots working on all four burners. Tetsu put the tray of mochi down on the counter beside her.
"Good morning, Grandma."
She didn't look up. "Tetsuya."
"Jun's here too."
"Good morning, Tamashiro-san," Jun said, striving to make his tone polite despite how tired he was.
"Jun."
She moved to peer into a different pot. She used a spoon to scoop out some of the azuki beans, testing the consistency with her fingers. She handed the spoon to Tetsu and he put it in the sink.
"No good?" Jun asked quietly.
"They're not fully cooked yet," Tetsu explained.
He took his jacket off and gestured for Jun to do the same. Jun shrugged the borrowed jacket off, handing it to Tetsu so he could hang them up over a small table next to the door that led to the front of the store.
Tetsu touched Jun's arm and led him to his usual seat at the table in the middle of the room. Jun sat down out of habit.
"Tea?" he asked.
Jun shrugged. "Sure."
Tetsu brought two cups of tea to the table and then went to wash his hands.
He and his grandma made their preparations in perfect, practiced harmony. Tetsu opened cabinets and gathered equipment without needing direction, handing her a large ceramic bowl when she extended her hand wordlessly. The bowl came to the table filled with azuki bean paste, along with a small dish of rice flour and two large metal pans lined with parchment paper, one filled with plain mochi, cut down into rows and rows of nearly identical portions coated in flour.
Tetsu sat down next to Jun. He took some flour from the dish and dusted it over the table, grabbing a bit more to rub over his hands. He picked up a portion of mochi and went to work.
Jun leaned forward onto the table, resting his head on his arms, and watched.
Tetsu was as methodical in making mochi as he was in everything.
There was no wasted effort, no movement or action that hadn't been tuned for efficiency. He picked up the plain mochi, he shaped it, he filled it, he closed it up, and then he did it all over again. He took mochi from one pan and set it down in the other, each piece becoming better as it passed through his hands, going from plain and uneven to smooth and filled with azuki bean paste.
It was like watching the ocean roll in and out at the beach, imperfections in the sand washing away under the waves.
Jun wished every mistake could be fixed so easily.
Tetsu's grandma got down from the step stool. She adjusted the heat on all four burners, turning some up and some down, before leaving for the front of the store.
Jun watched Tetsu's hands as he shaped a filled piece of mochi on the table, feeling despair churn in his gut in a similar circular motion.
"When will it stop hurting?" he asked, his voice weak from fatigue and pain.
Tetsu's hands stopped moving. They were still for a moment before they slowly curled into fists, his knuckles going whiter than the flour on his skin.
"I don't know," he said quietly.
Jun turned his face into his arm. He felt his eyes starting to sting.
"Christmas?" he asked, hearing the word crumble as it left his mouth. Christmas was months away and thought of still being trapped in this pain, hounded by nightmares, made his throat burn. "New Year's? Graduation?"
"I don't know, Jun."
"It will stop... right?"
Tetsu took a shaky breath.
"I hope so."
The waver in Tetsu's voice pushed Jun to tears.
He cried into his arm, too tired to even attempt to hold it back. He hated that the loss still hurt this much. The dream was dead. It died right in front of him and all Jun wanted was to bury it and move on but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't escape it, he couldn't move, he couldn't pull himself out.
It was like he was sinking, suffocating.
Drowned in the outfield he failed to defend.
Jun cried into the dark crux of his arm, despair flooding his lungs.
A quiet, broken gasp made him come up for air.
Tetsu was crying.
He was trying not to; Jun could see him shaking with the failed effort, his shoulders trembling, his jaw clenched, his hands still curled in fists on the table. His eyes were closed but the tears still fell. Every stuttered sob that beat out of his chest was like a stab to Jun's heart.
The only thing worse than his pain was Tetsu's.
Jun grit his teeth, his fingers digging into his arms, threatening to break skin.
He didn't want this.
He wouldn't drag Tetsu down. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Not when Tetsu was nursing the same wounds.
He didn't wake Tetsu up in the dead of night to make them both feel worse.
That wasn't why they came to the mochiya.
Jun sat up, his body protesting the sudden change in position. He wiped his face on his sleeves. His breathing was still labored but he tried to calm it - calm himself - by holding each breath for as long as he could before letting it out.
He reached for Tetsu but didn't bridge the distance.
"Hey."
Tetsu's head stayed down, his gaze flitting to Jun's hand, then his face.
Jun gestured to the forgotten filled mochi sitting between Tetsu's hands.
"Can I try?"
Tetsu's eyes fell to the mochi. He picked it up, turned it over, and put it down in the pan with the others.
Jun could see him pulling himself together.
Tetsu nodded. "Sure. Wash your hands first?"
Jun pushed up from his seat and went to wash his hands at the sink. He put more focus into the task than necessary, taking time to work soap and water between each of his fingers and up past his wrists, rinsing thoroughly until the burn in his throat began to subside. He could hear Tetsu taking long, slow breaths behind him. He turned back to the table when Tetsu's breathing had evened out.
He sat down again with clean, dry hands. He held them out when Tetsu extended his own, dusting them with flour from the dish.
"That's to keep the mochi from sticking," Tetsu said while scattering flour over the table in front of Jun. "More is better. You can dust excess off the mochi but once your hands get sticky, the only thing you can do is stop, wash them off, and start again."
Jun nodded, copying the way Tetsu rubbed more flour over his hands.
Tetsu picked up the pan of plain mochi. It was half empty, the other half sitting filled and finished in the other pan. He held the mochi out to Jun.
"Which one?" Jun asked.
"Any one."
Jun picked the closest portion. He was surprised by how warm it was, warm and pliable, softer in texture than any he'd ever eaten.
Tetsu held his piece out in the flat of his hand.
"First, we shape it." Tetsu demonstrated as he talked, keeping his movements slow and visible. "Roll it into a ball until it's round and even on all sides. Then flatten it with the palm of your hand."
It sounded easy enough.
Jun rolled the mochi in his hands. The soft texture required a light touch; too much pressure on any side made Jun's attempt at a ball slip quickly into egg territory. When it was round and even enough, he pressed his hands together to flatten it.
"Not too much," Tetsu said, making Jun freeze. "It should be flat but not thin." He pointed to the center of Jun's blob when Jun opened his hands. "It should be thickest here, where the anko goes. If it's too thin, too much color will show or sometimes the anko can break through." He tested Jun's mochi with a touch. "You can flatten it a little more."
Jun pressed down, quick and light. "How's this?"
Tetsu tested it again and nodded. "That's good. Now, work the edges. They should be thinner than the middle since they'll be folded together."
Jun watched Tetsu work his piece, using his fingers to press and pull at the mochi to spread out the edges. He tried to do the same. He held his mochi out for assessment when the circle-like shape fit in his palm.
"That's good," Tetsu said. "Now, we fill it."
He put his mochi down and moved his seat closer to the corner of the table, closer to Jun. He brought the bowl of azuki bean paste with him. Tetsu scooped into the bowl with what looked like a regular spoon, adding to and subtracting from it to make a portion based on a measurement only he understood.
He reached for Jun's hand. He held it gently, cradling it in his own, the shape naturally guiding Jun's hand to curl to match his.
Together they made a small space for Tetsu to drop the azuki bean paste into.
"How much do you put in?" Jun asked quietly.
Tetsu met his volume. "A rounded spoonful, give or take."
"How do you know it's enough?"
"It's a feeling."
Jun looked up to meet Tetsu's eyes over their hands.
"Although you can't really know until it's done."
"That's not helpful, Tetsu."
The faintest smile touched Tetsu's face.
He shrugged and his hand fell away, going back to the bowl to prepare a portion of azuki bean paste for his mochi.
Jun stayed close, watching him fill his piece.
"What's next?"
"Now, we close it." Tetsu held his hand next to Jun's, keeping it curled like it had been before. "Cup your hand to bring everything together and then pinch and fold the edges down. Turn it in your hand as you go; that helps keep the bottom layer even."
Jun watched Tetsu demonstrate the action, making it look deceptively easy. The azuki bean paste disappeared from sight under his fingers, leaving no trace of folds or seams in the mochi. Jun tried it himself, his breath held unconsciously in his throat as he worked.
"Try not to push down on the anko," Tetsu said gently. His hands came back to Jun's, guiding him through the motions. "It doesn't take much. The mochi will meld into itself."
Jun chewed on his lip. He'd never been suited for delicate tasks. He tried to mimic Tetsu's pinch-and-fold-and-turn maneuver, willing the mochi not to tear, continuing until his piece was technically closed.
"Now what?"
"We shape it one last time."
Tetsu put his mochi down on the table, encircling it with his hands, and Jun did the same.
"It should be circular but not round," Tetsu said, turning the mochi on the table. He arched his hand like a dome to illustrate the distinction. "Grandma doesn't like it when they're round. They don't fit nicely in the boxes."
Tetsu finished his piece by pressing down once on the top. Jun followed his lead. He shaped his piece, using his hands to coax the filled mochi into the realm of something circular. He gave it a final press and set it down on the table next to Tetsu's.
Both mochi were filled and circular but the similarities ended there.
Tetsu's piece was a uniform color all around, the white mochi evenly covering and masking the red-brown of the azuki bean paste. Jun's piece had a dark spot on one side, red-brown blooming under the white where the mochi layer was thin. They were roughly the same size but Tetsu's was smooth while Jun's was uneven, the folds on the bottom layer making the whole thing sit tilted and crooked.
Tetsu turned Jun's mochi, inspecting it.
"That's good."
Jun scoffed. "How is that good?"
"It's a good first try," Tetsu said.
Jun frowned down at the mochi, crossing his arms in a huff.
Tetsu stood to open one of the cabinets over the sink. He came back with a round plastic plate in a faded seafoam green color. He put the mochi Jun made on the plate and the one he made in the pan with the others.
He picked up the pan of plain mochi and offered it to Jun.
Jun took one, eager to try again.
They worked in relative quiet after that. Tetsu coached Jun through scooping his own portions of azuki bean paste, giving Jun room to try and fail and scowl at his work when some of it inevitably broke through his mochi. Jun asked questions when his mochi repeatedly refused to close, watching Tetsu break down the process into individual steps and movements.
They shared the warm space, drafting off each other, settling in the task in a way that was familiar and comfortable.
Tetsu's grandma came back into the kitchen when the pan of plain mochi was almost empty. She stopped next to the table. She looked at the plate and then at Jun. She took a mochi from the plate and walked into the back room without a word.
Isamu brought in a fresh batch of mochi and the pans on the table were rotated. The filled and finished mochi was taken by Tetsu's grandma to be boxed, the now empty pan of portions was slid over, and a new pan of warm mochi took its place. Isamu glanced at the plate on his way out, taking a piece of mochi with him when he left.
Tetsu drank some tea, added more flour to his hands, and went back to work.
The morning carried on at that steady, rhythmic pace.
Jun couldn't say how long they sat there. He didn't know when they arrived and he couldn't see outside from his seat at the table. Not that it mattered. Time in the store wasn't measured in hours and minutes. It was measured in cups of tea, bowls of azuki bean paste, and mochi - trays and pans and boxes of mochi.
Two pans of mochi and one bowl of azuki bean paste later, Tetsu's cousin, Natsumi, came in through the back.
"Good morning, Grandma," she said, dropping her bag on the small table below their jackets.
Their grandma stood at the counter, packing boxes with filled mochi.
She didn't look up. "Natsumi."
Natsumi picked up a folder from the small table and carried it with her to where Jun and Tetsu sat.
"Hi Jun. It's nice to see you again. I'm sorry they put you to work."
Jun shrugged. "I volunteered."
"That was a mistake," she said, smiling. She looked at Tetsu, her smile growing wide and amused. "Tetsu. Nice hair."
Tetsu looked up, frowning in confusion when Natsumi laughed at him.
She didn't give him any chance to question what she meant. She moved to the far end of the table, where their grandma had relocated the plate after they finished the second pan of plain mochi. Natsumi picked up a piece and weighed it in her hand.
"This is pretty good, Jun," she said, squeezing it lightly. Their grandma wordlessly handed Natsumi a small knife which she used to slice the mochi in half. She ran her finger around the outer edge. "It's a little uneven but you'll get the feel for that over time," she said, taking a bite.
"Those are his early ones," Tetsu said. "The rest have gone into boxes."
Jun dropped his head when both Tetsu and Natsumi looked at him, trying to ignore what sounded like pride in Tetsu's voice.
"Boxes on your first day, that is good." Natsumi ate the second half of the mochi, dusting flour off her hands. "Tetsu's mochi went on the plate for a week before his made it into boxes."
Tetsu frowned. "I was six."
"You used too much anko," she argued, poking one of the filled mochi in the pan. "Still do."
"Do not."
"Do too."
"Do not."
"Do too."
Their grandma clapped her hands once, the sound bringing the kitchen to a standstill.
"It's time to open."
Tetsu and Natsumi nodded and spoke at the same time. "Yes, Grandma."
They went to work, no further direction needed.
Natsumi took her folder, branded with the store's name and logo, and tucked it under her arm. She picked up one of the four stacks of boxes on the counter, each white box filled with mochi and tied off with a string. She left for the front of the store, going through the door backwards since her hands were full. Tetsu stood to help her, picking up another stack of boxes and following Natsumi through to the front. Natsumi returned and took an apron down from above the small table. She put it on, tied it up, and picked up more boxes.
Tetsu passed her when he came back into the kitchen.
"Do not."
"Do too."
They almost made Jun laugh.
Tetsu picked up the last stack of boxes and carried them out to the front of the store.
His grandma cleared the table. The fourth pan of plain mochi was empty, along with the second bowl of azuki bean paste. She piled all of the dishes into the empty pan and moved everything to the sink.
Jun started to stand to help when a hand pushed him back down.
A bowl of hot rice, an egg, and a fresh cup of tea was set on the table in front of him.
Tetsu's grandma patted him on the shoulder.
"Good work, Jun."
Jun swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat.
"Thank you, Tamashiro-san."
She nodded and left for the front of the store.
Jun watched the door close.
He let her approval hang in the air for a moment, filling the empty kitchen, mingling with the sweet smell of azuki bean paste. He picked up the egg she served him and cracked it over his rice, watching the bright yellow yolk seep down between the grains.
Tetsu came back while Jun was mixing the contents of his bowl together. He cleared away Jun's egg shells and served himself, bringing shoyu to the table when he sat down. Jun added shoyu to his bowl, stirring everything with his chopsticks until it was the perfect golden color.
The first bite was hot and tacky and salty.
Jun ate with vigor, suddenly starving, emptying his entire bowl in one long go. He drank tea in between hasty bites, feeling the food and drink settle in his stomach, their warmth sinking into his bones. He ate every last grain of rice, then put his bowl down and sighed.
Tetsu reached for his hand on the table, squeezing gently.
"Feeling better?" he asked.
Jun turned his hand so their fingers could tangle together. The shift meant Tetsu couldn't eat but he didn't seem to mind.
"Yeah," Jun said, nodding slowly.
He did feel better.
He was still tired but the gnawing pit in his gut had subsided, lulled into dormancy by a morning of making mochi. By the heat of the back room and the smell of azuki bean paste. By a simple bowl of egg and rice.
By Tetsu and his family.
By the mochiya.
It helped every time.
Jun ran his thumb over Tetsu's hand. "I'm sorry I woke you," he said, feeling the guilt from hours ago.
"It's okay," Tetsu said. "I needed it too."
Tetsu raised their joined hands to kiss Jun's fingers. He got flour on his face in the process, a small smudge at the corner of his mouth.
Jun felt himself smile at the sight.
"What?" Tetsu asked.
Jun pointed at his cheek. "You got flour on you."
Tetsu turned his head to wipe his face on his sleeve. All that did was drag the flour out into a long white streak going up to his ear.
Jun laughed.
For a moment.
He stopped abruptly when Tetsu drew the fingers of his free hand across Jun's cheek.
"Hey!" he shouted. "What was that for?"
Tetsu shrugged, a smile lighting his face.
Jun let go of Tetsu's hand and dragged his fingers through the excess flour on the table. He was quicker than Tetsu, lunging past Tetsu's arm to smear flour on his forehead and down the sides of his face. Tetsu retaliated by grabbing as much flour as he could and pushing both hands into Jun's hair.
The scuffle that followed was messy and short lived.
It ended with everything covered in flour.
It was in their hair and on their clothes. It was smeared across their faces. It was in their tea and Tetsu's food. It was scattered on the floor, pushed from the table by long, sweeping reaches and their attempts to grab for more.
It was on the hand Jun fisted in Tetsu's shirt when he pulled him into a kiss.
It was on their lips, pressed between their smiles. It shook off into the air when they laughed.
It was everywhere.
Jun dropped his forehead against Tetsu's, his hand still caught in Tetsu's shirt. Tetsu ran light fingers under Jun's chin, his thumb tracing the curve of Jun's lower lip.
"You got flour on you."
"Whose fault is that?!"
Tetsu answered by tilting up Jun's chin and leaning in to close the space between them.
"What do you do?"
"I go to the mochiya."