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“It’s been too long . . .”
The voice was slow and gentle. Its owner stood lost within the shadows, shrouded in the darkness that came from the tall pillars, and – with hood about his face – kept his head low to keep his facial features out of sight. Suguru half-turned from the banquet table. The hall was awash with dancers and singers, with revellers and gossipers, and every inch of space was filled with elaborate costumes and fanciful decorations, so that it looked like a scene from fairy tales.
It was difficult to slip away from the crowds, but – as the music changed from repetitive tunes into a soulful melodies – the people formed a large circle around the dance floor, where the bride and groom danced their first dance arm in arm and hand in hand. All eyes were on them, as a strange silence fell upon those who previously cheered and whooped and laughed. The people now cried and whispered, while Mantaro spun Jacqueline over every inch of the vast space, with her feet barely brushing against the intricate mosaic that decorated the grand hall.
Suguru took several steps back. He worked his way out of the throngs of people, until he was at the pillars that lined the perimeter of the hall, and even made his way beyond the banquet tables that stood between each of the pillars. The hooded figure moved at first, as if engaged in a strange dance with Suguru himself, and darted in and out of reach in a teasing chase, before – just as Suguru started to give up hope – it finally stopped and said:
“You’re getting slow in your old age, Brother.”
Suguru stopped. He panted hard, as they stood just beside the main doors. The painted wood reached high enough that one would have to crane their heads to see the full scale, and each one was flanked by guards in full armour, but their grandiosity was nothing to what exuded from Ataru, even clad in an old and frayed robe from a bygone era. Suguru blinked back tears, as his lips pulled into a trembling smile, and – wiping at his eyes – he chirped out:
“I didn’t expect to see you here!”
He threw his arms around Ataru. Ataru barely found time to respond, as he was pulled chest to chest against his younger sibling, and – as Suguru refused to relinquish his hold – Ataru reluctantly embraced him in return with a soft chuckle. They remained held together until the first dance became the second, and only then reluctantly let go of one another, as each man observed every small difference in the other. Finally, both relaxed once more.
“Well,” said Ataru. “I’m hardly going to miss my nephew’s wedding, am I?”
They both turned towards the crowds, but Mantaro was only visible in fragmented views between various bodies, as people converged on the dance floor and joined in with the celebrations, all while Bibimba wept through her tears at her seat of honour. Suguru smiled to see his father-in-law and brother-in-law beside her, each beaming with pride at their family now being so deeply entwined with royalty, while Harabote and Ikemen mingled with Mayumi in some far corner, trading old stories and discussing business. Ataru said with a sigh:
“It takes you back, doesn’t it?”
“Hmm,” said Suguru. “I remember my first dance with Bibimba. I was so nervous! I held her in my arms like I was holding her for the very first time; my hands kept trembling about her waist, and they were so sweaty that I was scared I’d stain her dress, but I also couldn’t let go . . . like she was so ethereal and ideal that she might float away, if I let go for even a second.”
“You always were a hopeless romantic.”
“I wish I could say the same for you, Ataru. You’re missing out by not having a wife . . . or husband, I’m not one to judge! I want for you to have what I have; I want you to wake up every morning to look into a half-opened pair of unfocused eyes, sometimes still crusted with sleep and with a pillow crease on the cheek, and smile at the mussed up hair, because there’s nothing more beautiful. There’s no one else that I’d rather look upon! I adore her more and more each day.”
Ataru shook his head, but the action did little to hide his smile. It was visible beneath the gaps in his mask, where it deepened the lines about his eyes, and it brought a flush to his bared skin where his military uniform did not quite cover his flesh. The hood fell down from his head. It added to his casual appearance, with his cloak and uniform at odds with the freshly pressed suits and newly bought dresses, but it also reminded Suguru that this was his brother. He may not have been dressed for the occasion, but he was there and right when Suguru needed him.
“I’m happy being single,” said Ataru. “I like my freedom. I like to drop everything on a whim to travel the cosmos, and I like setting my own schedule and owning my own space. I don’t have to fight to use the bathroom or worry about someone stealing my favourite snack, and – most of all – I don’t have to do early school runs or clean poop from a butt or deal with nightmares.”
“Ah, you always focus on the worse things! You can’t have forgotten the amazing moments you had with our Mantaro, right? I know you weren’t around much later on, but you had such a wonderful relationship with him. Do you remember holding him for the first time? He had such teeny-tiny toes, and he would hold my finger with all of his hand, but still not be able to hold more than the very tip. He was so small . . . so cute! I’ll never forget that new-baby smell.”
“I think that’s also called ‘wet diaper’ smell.”
“What about how excited he got at Christmas?”
“I remember that as the ‘ouch, my wallet’ stage.”
“The first time he said ‘I love you’.”
“Emotional blackmail.”
Suguru sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, while Ataru folded his arms across his chest, and – with a pout that belonged on one a fraction of his age – looked away from Suguru, as if he could somehow maintain his stoic exterior despite his eyes darting over to Mantaro. He would look away again when caught, only for his gaze to return to the dancing couple, and every now and then he would smile or chuckle, with his muscles softened and shoulders now dropped. Suguru laughed, as he slapped his hand on Ataru’s back and shook his head.
“You don’t fool me,” said Suguru. “I know that you love him. It’s why you should have a son to call your own, too, because the love you feel for your child is so much more than the love you feel for any other child . . . it hits you like a wave. You don’t even expect it! The moment you hear about their conception, you’re drowning in love and it’s like nothing you ever felt before.”
“I love him because I can give him back.”
“Ah, now I’m giving him away.” Suguru sniffed. “I’ll miss him.”
“Hmm, it’s like they say: ‘a daughter is a daughter for life, but a son is only a son until he finds a wife’. That’s another reason not to emotionally invest . . . at some point, despite all you do for them, they’ll up and leave you. They’ll grow up and move out, leaving you heartbroken . . .”
The expression darkened. Ataru stepped back towards the corner, away from the main doors, and was once more lost in the shadows where he hunched his shoulders, so that he seemed to be hiding away in himself, until he was halved in size and halved in grandeur. Suguru winced. He dragged his feet over to Ataru, while keeping his head low and avoiding the gaze of those in the crowds. He dropped back against the wall, where he stood beside Ataru. The two stood in silence, as they watched the reception progress, until – at last – Suguru whispered:
“Is all this about guilt?”
Ataru shrugged. There followed an attempt at regaining his stoicism, as he rolled back his shoulders and stood straight at the wall would allow, but – despite his perfect posture – there was something missing in his eyes . . . a smile that did not quite reach where most mattered. Suguru lightly nudged him with an elbow. Ataru nudged him back. The two were poised on the verge of a childish play-fight, but – with a shared look – stopped before they could escalate into a scene that would outshine the bride and groom. They both looked away. They laughed.
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Ataru.
“I heard the story from Momma and Dad. It broke their hearts when you left, so much so that I think they changed from that day forward . . . they were never the same. I think Dad shut down and became less emotionally involved, afraid he would be abandoned again, but Momma was always hovering over me and obsessed about me, afraid that letting go would mean losing me. It was the same fear, but – oddly – totally different reactions to the same trigger.”
“It’s not because I’m guilty about what I did to Mum, Suguru.”
“Oh, then what is it about?”
“It’s more that I don’t want to become Dad.” Ataru winced. “You grew up with barely any memories of him, stranded on Earth and meeting him only as an adult, but I grew up with that relentless pressure of needing to be the best . . . needing to be king . . . I guess I’m afraid that history would repeat itself. I don’t want my son to resent me, but I also don’t want to risk there ever being a war . . . imagine the political fallout in the future.
“It was bad enough with Tatsunori. It was even worse with Goldman, and yet you want me to start a new line? I can see it now; hundreds of years from now, my heir and your heir will be at the centre of a war of succession, as people argue which is the more legitimate leader. I won’t do that to my people, especially out of a selfish desire to be a dad . . .”
“Even now, you still act selflessly as a king should.”
“Even now, you try to make everyone happy . . . as a hero should.”
Ataru smiled. Suguru smiled back. The two shared a lingering look, as decades of memories and absences passed between them . . . moments they would never get back, missed opportunities . . . shared histories entwined by the gods . . . Suguru tilted back his head. He gazed up at the blinding chandeliers, as the lights seared themselves into his vision, and Ataru – snatching up two champagne flutes from a passing waiter – handed a long glass to Suguru. The champagne glittered like gold in the bright lights, with the bubbles adding life to the beverage.
“Come,” said Ataru. “Let’s toast to your son.”
He raised his glass in anticipation. A warm smile brightened his features, as he turned to fully face Suguru, and Suguru briefly cast his eyes back to the bride and groom . . . Mantaro and Jacqueline sharing a kiss, crowds of people cheering, flashes of cameras . . . they were so happy. They were lost in a moment of pure happiness, naïve to the difficulties of life that would come, and oblivious to just why this moment would be so precious . . . Suguru said with a smile:
“I’ll toast to that.”