Chapter Text
Kaoru let out a choked gasp, and the phone that was once clenched oh-so tightly in his hand comes crashing down to the tatami floor.
5-Star Chef Nanjo Kojiro Vanishes Into Thin Air, Suspected to Be Dead
Nothing could have prepared Kaoru for this news. Just last week, Kaoru had visited his best-friend-slash-rival-slash-a-little-something-more, had bickered with him, filled his stomach with Kojiro’s food, and begrudgingly handed over his money. Just last week, Kojiro and Kaoru had joked about a new, up-and-coming rookie at “S”. Just last week, Kojiro had offered the bright, award-winning smile that he reserved for Kaoru (or he liked to think so). Nothing was off. They did everything the way they had always done things. And now, Kojiro was gone, and Kaoru prayed to the gods that he was not gone permanently.
That had been several years prior.
At first, Kaoru was livid. He refused to try to contact him, refused to search out and look for the person who left a hole in his heart.
But Kaoru started to worry. And after a few months of stewing in his anger, he finally gave up his grudge and went on a desperate man-hunt, all while a little voice in his head whispered, “he’s gone, Kaoru. It’s useless to search”. Kaoru, however, did not give up.
Kaoru spent months searching for his friend, staying up late on forums, checking what his former fans had to say, what the news said, what anyone had to say. But they all seemed to move on quickly, and Kaoru was left behind in the dust. But he kept pushing on. He pulled on all the strings he attached to former clients to no avail. Kojiro, if that stupid bastard is alive, had taken all the right measures to cover up his tracks and make it seem like he wasn’t a real person in the first place. After spending a decade reconnecting after their falling out in high school, Kojiro had dropped him and the rest of the world and him. For four years he searched relentlessly, ignoring the advice of his friends and family to worry about his health first, but he did not listen. He tried so, so hard.
But now, after 4 years, Kaoru has given up.
_________________
The doorbell rings shrilly, alerting him that a customer has shown up. Kaoru is bent awkwardly behind his little cabinet, puts away his calligraphy set, and pulls out a commission form instead.
“Welcome to Sakurayashiki Calligraphy,” he calls out solemnly.
“No need to be so formal, Sakura-san,” a familiar voice replies.
Kaoru looks up from the cabinet doors he had just closed and finds himself face-to-face with Reki. It’s been a few months since he’d last seen the man. Reki is always on the move, searching Japan in hopes of finding god-knows-what, following around the skate scene wherever it led him. The red-headed youth has grown over the years. The baby fat that hung off his cheeks has been replaced with sharper features and hints of facial hair sprouted across his cupid’s bow. While Reki has matured, his eyes still retain the soft, honey-sweet look they had when the two first met.
“Reki! It has certainly been a while. How may I help you?”
“Well, uh, nothing much with me!” Reki plays with his hands. “I stopped by to tell you something. We should probably sit down for this.
“Oh?”
“I’ve got news. About Nanjo-san.”
After Kaoru tiredly ushers in Reki and insists he stay for tea, they get to talking. For some reason, Kaoru finds himself avoiding this “news” that his junior had to share. He assumes that whatever Reki had to share is good, perhaps even splendid, because if it wasn’t… well, he would certainly not be sitting across from the red-headed man right now. In fact, the rest of his skateboarding group would probably be avoiding him like the plague. After all, they’ve pulled that move before.
Kaoru places a cup in front of Reki and fills it to the brim. “So, how are you and Langa?”
Reki’s ever-present smile seems to grow even wider. “Well, I’m sure you already know but,” Reki wiggles his hand to show off a shimmering gold band. “We got married in Canada! It was a small event, only the closest of friends and family came. It was a little awkward interacting with some of the bunch, but we’re really happy. We would have loved to make it official here so that you and everyone else could attend but…”
They both cough.
“Oh, but! I don’t know if you’ve heard about this one either, but Langa’s studying to be an architect.”
Kaoru raises an eyebrow in response. How unusually boring.
“Yeah, see, that was my exact response, too,” Reki laughs. “His motivation is actually pretty noble and skate-oriented, as always. He’s trying to build connections and the proper knowledge to be able to draft up a city-certified park that doubles as a skating ground in response to “S” getting shut down!”
“Ah, that is truly very Langa of him to do so. I am proud of you two.” Kaoru murmurs wistfully. “You have come so far and have done so much… I can only hope to continue to see you flourish in years to come.”
“Haha, you sound like a desolate, old man, Sakura-san. Speaking of, you’ve been cleverly avoiding the news I have about Nanjo-san. I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want but… do you still want to hear it?”
Kaoru winces. “I suppose.” Yes, desperately, he doesn’t say.
“Alright, so… What we got is that Nanjo-san might’ve, probably, packed his bags and moved back to the countryside, somewhere riiiight,” Reki pulls out a map and points at the northern part of Oita prefecture, “here.”
“Oita?! He went to goddamn Oita?!”
“Well, we don’t know for sure. We think that’s where he is.”
“That is completely and utterly stupid! And what are we supposed to do now?! Drop everything and search for him?” Kaoru glowers at a now-sheepish Reki, who is now slowly raising his arms in defense. “Wait. Are you?”
Reki fits his phone back into his back pocket.
“Well. Since you asked! Higa-san is planning to take us up to Oita since he’s got the funds, but he wants us to chip in. Miya’s planning to take a few weeks off from preparation for competitions to come, and Langa and I don’t have much going on, so we’re good to go.”
“I see.”
“Now, it’s all on you,” Reki says seriously. “No pressure, but whether we go or not hinges on your decision.”
“Right… why?” Kaoru fishes out the fan trapped between his obi and his yukata. He covers his lower face.
Reki stares at him, bewildered. “Wh-what do you mean ‘why’?! Because you’re the closest one of us to him. Because you care about him?” Reki’s face pulls into a grimace. “I thought you’d be happier.”
“Reki, do not make assumptions for me. Yes, I care for Nanjo-san. In a way that an acquaintance or stranger would. I have been hurt far too long. I had been strung along for far too long.” Kaoru snaps his fan shut. “I am not putting myself through that again.”
“But-!”
“I hope you enjoy this road trip without me because I,” he emphasizes with a wave of his hand in Reki’s direction, “am not going.”
They stay silent for a few minutes, almost as if in a showdown of sorts, the two in a battle of stubbornness. Finally, Reki exhales and nods. “Alright, I understand, Sakura-san. That’s your prerogative! I’ll talk to you later, then.”
He gives the kotatsu in front of him a gentle tap, a sort-of silent “see you” gesture, and stretches up to his feet. Reki gathers his bags, smiles sadly in his direction, and within a few steps reaches the front of the shop.
“Ah, wait! Before I go.” Reki digs into the pocket of his jacket. “Miya wanted me to pass this on to you.”
“Oh?”
Reki hands Kaoru a slip of glossy paper, face-down. “I hope you take care of this, Sakura-san”
Kaoru, mystified, watches Reki leave his shop and waves as the boy bounds down away from him and his little residence. After a while of watching Reki become a speck in the distance, he finally looks down at the paper in his hands. On it, Miya’s ever-familiar, winding writing states “this is the last we saw of him, about two years into his disappearance”, punctuated with a little cat face in lieu of a period. Kaoru knew who “he/him” was.
Kaoru turns over the photo. In it, Kojiro is smiling brightly, arms around a younger woman that looks eerily similar to the muscled skater and an older man with dark skin and the same ruby eyes as Kojiro.
Fuck.
Hours later, Reki is tucking himself and his husband into bed, when he receives an email from Kaoru.
“When do you need me to arrive to go on this road trip?”
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A few days later, Kaoru shows up, bags packed. If he’s being honest with himself, he looks like a touristy dork. He has a huge hat tossed loosely onto his head, a fanny pack strapped around his waist, and huge, black sunglasses hanging off of his nose. The only thing that sets him apart is his yukata.
After some careful squinting, he finds his friends gathered around a blue minivan with the logo of Hiromi’s flower shop pasted onto its side. He gives a curt wave to them and sees Miya running up to greet him.
“So glad you could join us, Sakura-san!”
Kaoru coughs awkwardly. “Of course. I would hate to miss a once-in-a-life-time excursion with you all.”
“Really?” Miya raises his voice in a mocking manner. “Because Reki tells me that you had originally rejected! It was very disappointing for us to hear.”
“Yes, well-!”
Langa, his saving grace, bounds over. With a soft smile, he leads them closer to the rest of the group. Hiromi greets him with a slap on his back and Reki offers up a thumbs-up paired with a charming smile. A woman stands near Hiromi and gives a polite nod. Kaoru raises an eyebrow in Hiromi’s direction, and he gives him a love-sick smile in response. Ah. His wife.
Soon after getting quick introductions and “hey, long time no see”s out of the way, the bags and their owners are stuffed into the car.
“Alright! Old man, give us the plan!” Reki exclaims.
“Stop calling me that.” Hiromi pulls out a map, unfurls it, and starts to point. “So, we’ll be flying from Okinawa to Miyazaki, stop, take a bus to Beppu, stop, and then we finish off the trip with Kunisaki. Then, we’ll travel from Kunisaki down to Oita City, and we’ll take a plane back to Okinawa.”
Hiromi folds up the map and puts it away into his glove box. “My lovely wife here-,” everyone in the car coos and wolf-whistles, “-is going to be driving us to Nana Airport. From there, we’ll take two buses and ride the rest of the way. We’ll be making two stops in total. No matter the outcome, we’ll be coming back to Okinawa after sticking around Kunisaki for a few days”
The car goes silent. Nobody likes the way Hiromi had said “no matter the outcome”, but it’s fair. They don’t know what to expect. Everyone in the car is going purely based on the faith they put in a rumor. They don’t even know if Kojiro is still in the country.
Hiromi’s wife, formerly manager-san, breaks the silence with a cheerful attitude. “So, uh, I’ll be driving you! I hope you’re all strapped in because I tend to be a bit reckless!”
Everyone laughs, the tension visibly releasing from the bunch and out the windows of the car.
She was not joking. Hiromi’s wife is fucking crazy. She barely breaks for red lights, she takes sharp turns, she slams the car pedals way too hard, and to top it all off, she’s doing it while making casual remarks about her and Hiromi’s life.
“So,” she takes a sharp turn, causing the car to screech, “Hiromi-kun and I have been working quite diligently,” she takes another turn, causing the four men in the back to crash into each other, squishing poor Miya, “to make sure our little daughter is doing well at school! Business is good,” another screech, “but we’re a little worried that the flower-shop-running may not be enough to keep up with finances,” a sudden stop at a red light.
A dizzy Kaoru responds with “ah, really?” and a “that is unfortunate” in hopes that those are appropriate-enough responses to her. The other three men give him a silent look of thanks for doing the talking. Hiromi, the class traitor, continues to stare at his wife with pure adoration.
“Yes, it is! We’re thinking of opening up a little skate teaching thing since my dear Hiromi-kun is so good at it.”
Everyone winces. That’s one way to put it. Another, more accurate way to describe Hiromi is that he’s fucking antagonistic and not to be trusted with the poor bones of impressionable children.
Finally, Hiromi’s wife pulls up to the airport. They check each other for bruises, sprained ankles or wrists, or even bones. Hiromi huffs out a “don’t be dramatic”, and Miya shoots back with, “you can never be too careful!”
Hiromi’s wife surprises the group once more with her incredibly strong arms when she hoists everyone's bags together in one go out of the car. The seemingly gentle lady gives them a soft smile, waves them off, and bids them a safe trip.
Thankfully, the check-in and going through customs aren’t too stressful. Hiromi and Kaoru did, however, receive some questioning looks when they had passed through the metal detectors and the sensors went off despite the two of them looking piercing-less. They give each other embarrassed looks of solidarity. The two men talk with a gaggle of TSA agents, repeating over and over that “no, we don’t have bombs up our asses” and that they’re pierced and had forgotten to take out their jewelry. When all confusion is cleared up, the group finally manages to board the plane.
The flight is only an hour and 25 minutes or so, but Kaoru feels restless. He is nervous, and despite the book he has clutched in his hands to distract him, he can’t help but let his mind wander.
If… No, when I see Kojiro, what will I do? It has been so long. I can only imagine I will thoroughly chew him out. That fucking asshole… I wonder how he has changed. Kaoru sighs. I miss him.
“Hey, lover-boy.”
Kaoru’s head snaps to see Hiromi wiggling his eyebrows at him. “Lost in paradise?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You have this really sad, thoughtful look whenever you start thinking about Nanjo-san,” Hiromi sits down in the surprisingly empty seat next to him. “Tell me about it.”
Kaoru spurts. “Absolutely not! I will not “tell you about it” because there is nothing to tell!” He gives Hiromi a sharp look. “Do not project your former romantic misgivings on to me, Higa-san.”
“Hey, you can just say you don’t want to talk about it without being mean.” Hiromi shrugs. “Well, you’re stuck with me for the rest of the flight. I don’t want you thinking up a storm just to worry yourself, so I’ll be here if you need anything.”
“That is certainly not necessary.”
“I wasn’t asking, Sakura-san.”
Kaoru grumbles in response, but admittedly, having Hiromi to mindlessly chat with certainly helped. The 1 hour and 25 minutes passed by quickly, and they found themselves arriving in Miyazaki. Once again, checking-out and the more technical stuff went by fast, and the group now find themselves outside of the airport, sweating through their clothes. While it certainly isn’t as hot here as it is in Okinawa, it feels a thousand times more humid, and they are teetering on the edge of misery.
Reki claps his hands together. “Okay, since we’re on a wild goose chase looking for Nanjo-san,” the group groans, “we should be able to enjoy this trip! So, as Higa-san mentioned, we’ll be stopping in Miyazaki for the day to chill out and do whatever we want.”
“Miyazaki is famous for surfboarding,” Langa helpfully chimes in.
“And its zoo. I want to go to the zoo,” Miya adds.
Kaoru unfurls his fan. “I hear there’s a shrine.”
The group looks at him. “What! I want to enjoy my time here!”
“I’m not sure we have enough time to cover that all in a day. Hiromi, how long are we staying here for?” Langa inquires.
“Just for the night, unfortunately. I think visiting a mall might be a better idea since it’s a perfect neutral for us all to enjoy, but,” Hiromi puts a hand on his hip in a very dad-like fashion, “if we try hard enough, we can probably squeeze those other activities in.”
“Guh, you’re such a dad, Hiromi-san.” Miya feigns disgust. “Maybe we should be calling you old man after all.”
“Call me that, and I’ll certainly dad you and force you to sit in your room at the hotel.”
The group snickers.
Once they arrive at the entrance and walk through the large, glass doors, Langa, Reki, and Hiromi decide to split off into one group, and Miya pulls Kaoru into the direction of the video game shops, excitedly talking a mile-an-hour about some game that recently came out. Kaoru simply nods along and smiles, knowing that Miya is probably going to haggle him into buying it for him. Kaoru receives an email from Langa saying that the group will meet up in a few hours to have a meal together. He responds with a simple “okay” and pockets his phone into his fanny pack.
“So… Kaoru-san.”
The pink-haired man looks down at Miya. “Yes?”
“You know… I just wanted to know… what do you miss most about Kojiro-san?” Miya is nervous, given the way he’s busy fumbling with the little keychain hanging off of his belt.
Kaoru decides to humor him. “That man… The thing I miss most about him is his smile. That buffoon was insufferable, but that was the one nicest thing about him. It felt safe.”
Miya implores for him to continue.
“I also miss the rush of skating with him.” Kaoru inhales shakily. “You know, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but I have not skated in a very long time. Every time I look at my board, I think of Koj-... Nanjo-san and how much I miss him. I miss him so much, Miya.”
Kaoru presses his now unfurled fan against his face in an attempt to hide his wobbling smile. He’s sure Miya has noticed already. “Well, um. Let us move forward. You were telling me about your game?”
Miya, whose face flashes in panic, nods suddenly. “Y-yeah! So the premise is that you’re in a world filled with these monsters, ranging from humanoid to animal to other crazy-looking stuff, and…”
As much as the pink-haired man wants to listen to his friend, he finds himself nodding off and thinking back to their conversation. He feels terrible for unloading his deeply locked-up emotions onto him, ones he thought he had better control over, one’s he vowed not to share with anyone.
Before he knows it, Miya manages to find the shop that he is looking for and pushes Kaoru to go find some “fan or calligraphy shop or whatever you old farts like”. His eyebrow twitches at this, but he figures Miya is just trying to regain some sense of comfortability to dispel the awkwardness.
Kaoru successfully finds his little slice of heaven in a quaint shop that carries kimonos, calligraphy supplies, an endless collection of fans, and other such trinkets. Once he enters, he immediately notices the sheer magnificence and chaos of the shop’s interior design. The walls of the shop are lined with hundreds of assortments of incense, and the air itself carries the pleasant smell of vanilla and sandalwood. It feels like something straight out of a fairy tale, with jade pendants hanging along the walls, clinking against each other ever so often, and indecipherable paintings strewn all over the shop. The owner, who approaches him quietly, has a tinkling laugh that startles him out of his daydreaming. The man wears a heavily-adorned kimono which delicately drapes across his shoulders, and a pretty, rose-pink obi is tied around his waist. His are eyes crinkled with mirth, and his delicate, carnelian hand bats a fan in front of his face.
“How may I help you?”
“Ah, I was hoping to find a new inkstone and a few new calligraphy sticks. The shop that I used to frequent is unfortunately closed, so I have been unable to purchase a new set for quite a long time.”
The man leads Kaoru to one corner of the shop and shows off a collection. Most of the supplies look very traditional--black, sleek design with little engravings here and there on the grindstones and kanji written down the front of the calligraphy sticks. Some have wild designs, including ones with Pikachu on them. “And if you’re interested in brushes,” the man waves to his left, “they’re over there. May I help with anything else?”
Kaoru brings a hand to his chin. “Do you have charms for reunions?”
The man stares at him with a bewildered look. “Wouldn’t it be better to go to a shrine for that?”
“Ah, yes, of course. I suppose you are correct.”
The man leaves him be, switching between shooting him an inquisitive look every now and then and reading the fashion magazine he has in hand. After some time, Kaoru picks out a high-quality inkstone and a few sticks, all with fairly steep prices. Just as he’s ready to approach the counter, he spots a fan out of the corner of his eye. It’s unfurled, showing off the intricate pattern painted onto its white silk leaves. The fan depicts the typical Buddhist scenery, a vast mountain painted in monochrome. But the thing that stands out the most is the peculiar jade pendant that hangs off the end of the fan’s rivet. It’s… a phallus. A phallically-shaped pendant.
“Ah. What… is this fan…?”
The owner of the shop groans. “Oh, good god--! Ignore that. One of my students who’s learning how to make fans made that, and I suppose he thought it would be funny to leave it lying around.”
Kaoru coughs. “May I take it? If it’s for sale.”
“You… You know what, yeah sure. Do you mind paying full price?”
“Of course not.”
As Kaoru begins to pay for his items, the door of the shop opens up, and he sees Langa come in from the corner of his eye.
“There you are, Sakura! We’re planning to head out. You ready to go?”
Kaoru hums in response. He pockets the money the owner presents him back into his gaudy fanny pack and gives a small bow in thanks. With his bag in hand, Langa and Kaoru leave the shop. After they walk a small distance away, the younger of the two whispers to him. “You know, the owner was checking you out while we were leaving.”
Kaoru, scandalized, smacks Langa’s wrist with his non-phallus-pendant fan.
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The group gets together once more and creates an informal show-n-tell for the merchandise acquired. Hiromi reveals the new helmet and kneepads set he got for his daughter, knocking on each item to emphasize their sturdiness. Reki presents the new nice-looking art supplies he snagged for skateboard designing, and Miya shoves the game he got into their faces and brags about how “rare it is to find considering the game is super popular”.
Kaoru only shows his inkstone and calligraphy stone, deciding to hide the phallus-ended fan in his fanny-pack. Langa had bought nothing and only strolled along with his husband and Hiromi.
Eventually, the day dwindles to a close. The sun sets in the distance, and the group decides to quickly shuffle into their hotel. They check into a nice, 5-star hotel (“It’s fine!” Hiromi argued. “It’s just for one night!!”) and distribute the rooms so that the youngest three share a room with two beds, while Kaoru and Hiromi share a suite with a couch and a bed. Kaoru offers to take the couch once the group splits off, Hiromi refuses, Kaoru urges, and they do a little back-n-forth until Hiromi concedes and Kaoru takes the couch.
As thanks for Kaoru’s generosity, he insists Kaoru take the bathroom first. And so he did. After taking a hot, steamy shower, Kaoru pats himself off and slides into the tub nearby. He sits and marinates in it and in his feelings for quite some time before he finally decides to get out and give way for his undoubtedly sweaty companion to take his turn.
Kaoru exits the bathroom in a new sleeping robe, and after Hiromi takes his turn and eventually crawls into his bed, they bid each other a good night. Some 30 odd minutes later, Hiromi’s snores fill the room.
Kaoru feels exhausted. He feels tired, and he wants to turn back. But that wouldn’t be fair to his friends. They put in so much effort trying to help Kaoru achieve something he so desperately yearned for in the past. And yet, the past is the past, and he doesn’t know if he wants to see Kojiro again. He shakes his head and turns over, curling in on himself.
Kojiro… Where the hell are you?