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There are a great many things Kita Shinsuke puts time and effort into doing, and taking care of himself and his surroundings make up most of them.
Creating and sustaining a clean environment is the first step towards internal peace. Loud, cluttered, and dirty spaces breed thoughts of the same kind. If everyone was capable of picking up after themselves and cleaning their bathrooms every once in a while, the world would be a much quieter place, Shinsuke thinks. A clean home, a clean mind.
Once an environment is clean and tidy, it becomes easier to say the same about one’s personal health and hygiene. And, in turn, spaces are more likely to be well-kempt by healthy minds.
It is a cycle. An organized, efficient cycle that Shinsuke has upheld his entire life without issue.
Thus, he finds himself, exactly six months after his last appointment on the dot, in the lobby of his dentist’s office in a dinky chair with the same rigid posture he chose to hold as a child until it came as natural to him as breathing.
Not enough people understand the value of dental health, and this is a fact he laments every time he brushes his teeth (after every meal) and even moreso every time he visits his dentist and sees the sparse group of people waiting alongside him. It’s not as though his dental office is small – in fact, several dentists work there, along with an oral surgeon and an orthodontist. It is a highly rated facility that offers a large variety of services; and yet, he only ever sees one or two other people waiting in the lobby when he comes. He considers the possibility that it is always empty because it is a mere hour after the office has opened for the day, making it still very early in the morning, but that doesn’t sit well enough as a reason – especially since many people could come before work if they truly wanted to.
Shinsuke views this general social ignorance of the importance of dental health in the same way he views most things: not with a detached perspective, per se, but with a factual understanding of the issue at hand and an understanding that it is not his job to steer anybody into changing their values if they aren’t willing to listen. He cares about others, but he is not the kind of person to have hills he will die on. Others make their own decisions and he is not involved in that process; it is as straightforward as that. Life is peaceful that way.
Shinsuke tunes out the phone ringing at reception and the lull of the television playing the morning news and reaches for a magazine on the table next to him. It is clearly at least a year old, if the out-of-season cover art and the faded and torn pages are to give any indication of its age.
Regardless of print-date, Shinsuke thumbs the contents of the local magazine, hoping to pass some time before his usual hygienist calls him back for his regular cleaning. He peers at the recipes recommended for that season, claiming fresh chestnuts and Nashi pears had an abundant yield and are therefore perfect for fresh entrees and desserts this season.
Shinsuke fondly remembers seeing many chestnuts and pears at the local market throughout the last year and taking home a bag of chestnuts to make a delicious uirou and makes a note to make it again once chestnuts are in season again. He flips the page to an article he’s sure nobody’s read in the year the magazine has been sitting in the lobby and begins reading.
When the dental office door opens, Shinsuke expects to see his hygienist standing there calling his name with a friendly smile, but instead sees a different woman pushing a young man his age in a wheelchair.
The young man has yellow hair and sharp eyes despite his current condition and a mouth full of cotton. “Imma beat the shit out of ‘im when I see ‘im next!”
Evidently, the cotton did not prevent him from yelling obscenities in the dental lobby.
“I’ll let the front desk know to call him. Your brother said he would be circling the area and would come as soon as we called,” The woman politely replies before steering and parking the wheelchair in the empty space next to Shinsuke’s seat.
“’Samu’s a piece of shit! Don’t waste yer time calllin’ ‘im, I can walk home m’self,” he slurs.
Watching the man clearly struggle to sit up straight and eventually get pushed back down by the dental assistant, Shinsuke highly doubts this claim.
“I’ll tell the desk to give him a call,” The woman replies curtly before leaving. The man’s head lolls back to rest on the head of the wheelchair, and Shinsuke notices the drag of his movements and slow blinking. His cheeks are swollen from cotton and he keeps sticking his tongue out to lick his lips as if they’re chapped, allowing the occasional view of his very red mouth.
“What’re ya lookin’ at? See somethin’ ya like?”
Shinsuke blinks blankly at the unfocused smirk directed his way.
“You shouldn’t be talkin’ so much if ya just got yer wisdom teeth out.”
The man’s mouth goes wide with a smile, showing off the gauze stained red in his cheeks and giggles.
“How’d ya know? Am I that pathetic righ’ now?” The man reaches up like he’s going to run a hand through his hair but drops his arm suddenly as if it has weights on it.
Shinsuke considers this question for a moment. “My appointments here ‘re always early in the mornin’s when people usually get their wisdom teeth out. You look like the rest of ‘em. I got mine out in high school, I prob’ly looked the same.”
“I’d pay to see that.” The man giggles again, rolling his head over his shoulder like Shinsuke’s cousins would before their necks got strong enough to support their large heads. Shinsuke notes that this man does not seem to be any different than them in his current state.
“I was s’pposed to get mine out in high school, too, but I didn’t wanna take time off from practice – ya know th’ drill,” he laughs and rolls his head onto the other shoulder, closer to Shinsuke.
“I do,” Shinsuke replies easily. “But takin’ care of yer health is important, too.”
The young man’s eyes, though heavily dilated due to the drugs that were no doubt racing through his veins, go wide. Even though they are hazy and unfocused, they shine as if there are no sedatives in his system at all. Shinsuke’s not sure he’s ever seen such brightness behind anyone’s eyes before. He is struck by them.
“Really? What’d’ya play?”
A small smile naturally cracks Shinsuke’s typically blank expression. “Volleyball.”
The man laughs in both genuine and delirious delight, the pattern of his laugh inconsistent but somehow pleasant in Shinsuke’s ears. The man’s right arm reaches out and lands perpendicular on the armrest of his chair, leaving his fingers dangling close enough to Shinsuke’s leg that he can feel the warmth of the hand through the space separating them.
“I play volleyball, too,” The man replies a bit too loudly. “Pretty damn good at it, too, if I do say so m’self.”
Shinsuke’s gaze drops and re-scans the body of the man before him. Although he is sitting in a wheelchair and his shirt and shorts are loose on his frame, Shinsuke sees a strong and stocky build underneath. A strong physique does not equal strong volleyball performance but, somehow, he believes the stranger is telling the truth. Though he would have to see the man play on the court if he wanted to judge the accuracy of his statement in any meaningful way.
“Yer totally checkin’ me out!”
Shinsuke blinks and returns his gaze to the stranger’s face. He is smiling wide and awkwardly; the corners of his lips are pulled a little too far and his top lip a little too tight since there’s very little doubt in Shinsuke’s mind that this man can’t feel any part of his face at the current moment, but it’s genuine.
“What position do ya play?”
If the man noticed Shinsuke deliberately ignoring his exclamation, he doesn’t say anything. He’s probably already forgotten he’d said anthing. The man picks up his arm from where it has been dangling precariously close to Shinsuke’s leg and proudly presses a thumb to his slightly puffed-out chest. “I’m a setter!”
As soon as he answers, his chest deflates and his hand falls again into his lap. His head sways slightly on his neck but he doesn’t appear to notice, keeping his drooping eyes locked onto Shinsuke’s. Although his eyelids keep the man’s eyes half-closed and his eyes are bleary, there’s a particular shine to them Shinsuke finds an interest in. Something about them feels familiar – like an old memory. He wonders what’s behind it.
“Did yer mother ever teach you to use yer indoor voice?”
The man whines and swings his head back. For a moment Shinsuke wonders if he’s upset the man before his head swings back around and returns his gaze.
“I bet you were the captain of yer team,” the man states matter-of-factly.
Shinsuke is taken aback by this odd observation stated so boldly without evidence. “What makes you say that?”
The man scoffs loudly and attempts to roll his eyes. “Yer actin’ like my mother. You’re lucky that yer cute and I like blunt people.”
“I’m just tryin’ to keep you out of trouble until yer brother gets here.” Shinsuke chooses, yet again, not to reply to the man’s statement. He has nothing to say to that. The man mumbles something incomprehensible at the mention of his brother. “You really shouldn’t be talkin’ so much after surgery. Yer stitches could pop out.”
“Yer right,” The man suddenly concedes easily with a sigh. He releases a deep breath and lets his head fall back against the wheelchair, closing his eyes after he settles.
Shinsuke turns away from the man who has now distracted him for the last several minutes. His hygienist should be here any minute now, so he closes the magazine still resting on one leg and returns it to the table it was on before he picked it up. He thinks about the man resting beside him and their short, but notable interaction.
Kita Shinsuke is not one to get in the habit of talking to strangers. He is definitely not one to get in the habit of talking to strangers who have a number of drugs running their system and loudly flirt with him in the very public dental lobby.
Shinsuke doesn’t flirt. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to, he just doesn’t see the purpose in changing the way he speaks for another person. His words and actions as they are should be enough to let somebody he’s interested in know he’d enjoy spending more time with them. Good conversation is good conversation, and anything that might come from it will happen if both parties want it to.
If there’s one thing he is sure of right now it’s that he is not going to flirt with anybody, especially not with a talkative stranger still waking up from sedatives, even if his smile is honest and reminds Shinsuke of something he can’t quite place.
“Hey.”
Shinsuke turns and meets the blinding gaze of the blonde man yet again, who has rolled his head back over to face Shinsuke and attempted a whisper that ended up being far too loud. Shinsuke is starting to suspect the man is like this even without the drugs.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier. Were you the captain of yer team?” The man attempts another failed whisper which is far more disruptive than his earlier choice of yelling, Shinsuke thinks.
“The whisperin’ isn’t helpin’. Talk normal,” Shinsuke advises. “And yes.”
“Knew it,” The man giggles and sticks out the tip of his tongue between his lips like its swollen. Shinsuke would be lying if he said it wasn’t endearing. “I bet we played each other in high school.” His wistful words come out sloppy due to the tongue he still hasn’t removed from between his lips but Shinsuke understands.
“Maybe. Are ya from ‘round here?”
“I went to Inarizaki – we went to nationals a whole bunch’a times. Sorry if we ever beat ya.”
Shinsuke sees flashes of garnet track jackets and the purest black jersey he’d ever seen on the court, worn by strong players that filled out the shoulders much better than he ever had. He remembers the pang of defeat nestled deep in his belly and a pride in his team regardless of the outcome. Of Inarizaki he remembers a laugh across the net that sounded like a cross between a hyena and out of tune windchimes. He remembers a smile most of all. Ah.
“Yeah we played ya. And don’t apologize if ya don’t mean it.”
“Aw, ya caught me!” The man whines loudly. “’M sorry.”
Shinsuke didn’t know he was waiting for the man’s smile for the past five years until he saw it again. Combining the memory of a rowdy rival he thought he had forgotten with the real presence of the man beside him had Shinsuke’s mind doing backflips to synthesize it all; the first time this has happened to him in many years.
The former Inarizaki setter was obnoxious, loud, and praise-driven, initially creating a bitter taste on Shinsuke’s tongue the year their paths crossed at the Hyogo prefectural qualifiers. And yet, for every childish jab made between plays he showed grace, form, and precision during them. Having the bark without the bite is shameful, but having both is downright vicious (even if this setter’s particular bark was especially loud).
By the end of the match that would be his last, Shinsuke gained a profound respect for the opposing setter. He was a great player and a great opponent, even if he did get whistled at by the refs more than once for yelling at one of his teammates (Shinsuke remembers they were brothers). His form was impressively careful and his laugh when the final whistle was blown was so authentic Shinsuke couldn’t help but feel happy for him at the expense of his own pain. A deserved win. Not a win won by the setter alone, but a win he deserved nonetheless.
“Don’t apologize for beatin’ us,” Shinsuke says, breaking from the loud memories taking control of his senses. “The outcome of a match is the byproduct of the effort put in. You guys were the better team – ain’t anythin’ deeper than that.”
The former Inarizaki setter hums and his face softens. They sit together silently for a few more moments. Shinsuke is surprised to find he’s waiting for the man to speak to him again, not only expecting it but looking forward to it as well.
“I’m movin’ to Osaka soon,” The man muses wistfully. It’s quiet; such a stark contrast from everything he’s said until now.
“Got a job?”
“Yeah.” He smiles, his eyes looking far past Shinsuke, now so serene and calm Shinsuke momentarily wonders if his medication has somehow already worn off.
“’M scared of leaving home.”
Shinsuke has nothing to offer, so he listens.
“Don’t get me wrong – I’m excited to be leavin’. I’ve wanted this since I was a real little kid and it’s excitin’ that it’s finally happenin’. But it’s sad, y’know?” Shinsuke nods even though the man is not looking at him anymore. “I’ve been livin’ here my whole life. What if the grocery store next to my new apartment doesn’t have the bread I like? Where am I gonna get my hair cut now?”
The man sighs and continues his stream of consciousness as if Shinsuke isn’t even there. “I’ve never gone very far for very long. The longest I’ve been apart from my scrub brother was a week back in my second year of high school. And as much as ‘Samu’s a fuckin’ prick, I think ‘m gonna miss him, the bastard.”
“It seems like you really love what yer gonna be doing. If yer brother is even sorta like you, he’ll miss ya, too.”
The man snorts. “’Samu’s nothin’ like me – I’m much more handsome and charming.”
Shinsuke chuckles.
“Hey!” The man exclaims suddenly, eyes wide and still dilated, pointing a very limp accusatory finger at him. Shinsuke’s laugh phases out into a smile.
“What?”
“Yer laughin!”
“I was.”
The man’s face splits into a grin so wide his eyes close. “I knew I could get to ya. Bet I’ve totally charmed ya!”
Shinsuke simply shrugs. There’s not point in lying to the man by telling him he’s not endearing and absolutely blinding.
Astonishingly, it appears as though the man wasn’t actually expecting Shinsuke to agree. His cheeks dust pink and his bleary eyes do everything but meet the gaze of the boy next to him. Cute.
“I –”
“ – Stop botherin’ that stranger! Can’t ya be left alone for five minutes without ruinin’ anyone’s day?”
Shinsuke turns to another loud voice entering the lobby of his typically peaceful dental office. Entering the building is a man with similar features to the one he’s been talking to for the past few minutes, with a few key differences between their hair dye colors of choice, eyebrow shapes, and the messages their eyes send with a single glance (an insatiable hunger versus bored neutrality).
The former Inarizaki setter reacts to the presence of his brother with another complete personality shift.
“’M not botherin’ him, asshole, he likes me!” His face twists into something resembling anger, but without the heat of rage. The expression reserved between brothers, Shinsuke assumes. He has a younger brother himself and they argue from time to time, but neither of them are prone to the kind of intense mood shifts the brothers in front of him seem to be.
The gray-haired man snorts and reaches out to grab his brother’s arms and pull him out of the wheelchair. “Him? Likin’ you? I needa go talk to the surgeon then if yer this delusional.”
Shinsuke watches in silence, unable to enter their argument – not that he could say anything to stop an argument between these two in the first place.
“I ain’t lyin, ya scrub!” The former setter yells back while accepting his brother’s help and pulling himself up to a standing position.
Shinsuke watches as the man is slowly escorted out of the lobby with the help of his brother. He smiles when the man turns to look at him in the doorway. He offers the man a slight bow of his head in return for another glimpse at his smile.
The lobby is eerily quiet when the door closes behind the brothers. A familiar quiet, now newly empty.
Shinsuke didn’t think it was possible to feel so out of place somewhere so deeply engrained into his routine.
The stillness of the room is interrupted when the office door opens and his nurse pokes her head out and calls his name.
_____
I was at the dentist for a regular cleaning, you just had your wisdom teeth removed (Hyogo)
I am a creature of habit. Every day I wake up before the sun rises, change into clothes I picked out the night before, have breakfast, and make my rounds tending to my land. Once every two weeks I drive into the city and take care of all my errands. Once every six months this trip includes going to the dentist for my regular cleaning.
Every six months I sit in the lobby quietly with the small group of people waiting for their respective appointments with me and wait for my name to be called.
When the office door opened I expected to hear my name from my usual hygienist. Instead, you got wheeled out from behind the doors, arguing loudly with the nurse about your brother not waiting for you, and were left next to me until he came to pick you up.
You seemed to think my startled expression at your loud and unexpected entrance warranted a conversation, and you began by flirting with me. I commend your extraverted boldness, but I am not the type of person to respond to such advances, so I offer my apologies if you thought back on our conversation later in embarrassment.
The anesthetics still running in your system combined with those in your face and cotton in your cheeks made your body limp and face droopy, but your eyes were so bright. They reminded me of something, but I wasn’t sure what.
You told me you played volleyball in high school with a melodic lilt in your voice and a glimmer in your eye. You correctly guessed the role I held on my old team after talking for less than two minutes, despite the drugs in your system hindering your judgement.
The entire time we talked I had this odd feeling of déjà vu. Something about the shine in your eye when you talked about being a setter, the way your smile tugs your entire face along with it, and the sound of your laugh made my tongue tingle; the ghost of your memory caught in the connection between my head and lips.
The memories of the you I met in high school flooded my senses after you jogged my memory with a joke. In my final game of high school your team beat mine in a decisive victory. We put up a good fight, but your team was stronger.
The clearest memory I have of my final match is of you across the net – your well-rounded strength, the determination in your gaze, and the genuine glee you exhibited at playing at all. I enjoyed watching you play simply because you played good volleyball, and there’s nothing better than watching someone play good volleyball.
You told me you’re moving soon. I hope the move treats you well. Even if the grocery store by your new apartment doesn’t have your favorite bread, I’m sure another will, and you can find a barbershop quickly online. I’m sure your family and friends will miss you the same way you miss them – even your brother. I don’t know what you’re moving for, but if you go for it with the same determination I saw from you years ago, I believe you can go far.
After your brother finally came and picked you up, I found that the quiet lobby and was no longer as comforting as it usually is.
At first I thought you disrupted my routine by adding to it loudly and without regard for my personal boundaries, but it wasn’t until after you left that I realized maybe you filled an empty space I didn’t know I had, leaving me with the nagging awareness of the emptiness when you were no longer there.
I’m not the type of person to be overly-sentimental or look particularly deeply into my interactions with strangers, but I can’t seem to sit peacefully with the way our conversation ended. I’d like to speak with you again, preferably when you have recovered from surgery and I am no longer unprepared for your bright presence.
If I cared about such things, I would say reaching out like this is not very like me. However, I believe every action a person takes is the outward expression of their combined experience and character, and before my most recent trip to the dentist I had not had the experience of meeting you again. I do not take this lightly.
I leave everything in your hands, if my message reaches you.