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1.
Uramichi's sick of his little apartment. He wakes up each morning in darkness with the horrendous beeping of his alarm echoing off spartan walls. Even on weekends he dreams the sound, waking up at 5:00 no matter what. At least then he can lay still, breathing as shallowly as possible, and pretending not to exist. On his better days he imagines himself as a flower, safe in a far off field. On worse days, a corpse no one will miss, only to be found when it starts to rot.
But he gets nervous then, stares at his hands and looks for dark spots or blood. Something primal swells up then, bile in his throat, as he imagines gangrene creeping up his arm.
So he gets up and makes himself lunch, works out, and does some chores. He puts on the radio and tries to ignore the gapping hole at the center of his being.
He begins to worry, vaguely, how much longer he can go on like this. The weight is lifting in the strangest way, with panic and spite replaced by nothing at all. A succession of emotions that cut themselves off and try to run for better pastures. He counts what he has left; despair, guilt, exhaustion.
When construction starts right outside his window on the new bridge he sighs, anger tickling his heart. When he reads the expected length for the project is two years he almost laughs.
2.
"You've got this!" "You're a beautiful single woman!" "Not even a woman, a young woman!"
Utano's smile aches and she's not even out the door. The morning affirmations are a relatively recent addition to her routine after they were recommended in Sweet. The article had said they were useful for women who struggle with self confidence. Of course, Utano had also bought the foundation advertised on the bottom of the page which came with a free little booklet of affirmations.
The suggestions hadn't been too helpful. Cheering herself on with "men are attracted to me", "I am more beautiful thanks to Rose-Lily Foundation (tm)", and "I'm an Idol-in-waiting" all got pretty old after a while. Or maybe it was Utano who was getting old.
"I'm a hot young woman!" She repeated, making sure to give her reflection the best battle stare she could. Successfully avoiding the train of thought she finished her makeup routine, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door.
She almost slipped on the eviction notice smashed through her mail slot.
3.
Fully intending to suffer in silence, Uramichi sat down for lunch next to Utano. Her makeup was streaked from tears and she was sniffling through her lunch. He tried not to notice, sweat pooling in his temple. If he keeps his energy low, it might not matter how much sleep he gets tonight. He repeats the line in his mind, shoveling rice into his stomach. He doesn't register the taste but there's enough protein in the meal to give himself a single positive.
But then, Mitsuo. He comes in, starts on his meal, and asks easily "What's eating you Utano?"
"I'm getting evicted," it's a real whine. She blush instantly, clearly shocked by her own voice. Scrubbing frantically at her eyes she continues to recount her plight only with less obvious distress. "I have 30 days to find a new apartment and I haven't even started."
Uramichi perks up immediately, attention drawn away from his food. She's got similar apartment woes it seems. He'd help her search if the mere idea didn't make him sick with dread.
"Why'd you get kicked?"
"They want to remodel it into storage space. What about me? I need space!"
"Tobikichi's uncle has a pretty nice condo he's looking to sublet."
Hope fills her eyes before suspicions clouds them over.
"Wait, why are you telling me. Shouldn't Tobikichi be living there already?"
"Eh yeah, it's outside his price range but maybe not yours. Let me send you the listing." He pulls out his phone and sends something over quickly. There's excitement still in Utano's frame until she opens the message and drops her phone. It cracks as it falls, but Utano doesn't care. She's face down on the table, trying to hold back anther round of tears.
When Uramichi leans down to pick up the phone and is, for a moment, horribly shocked by the price. But then-
"It is outside your price range."
"Eugh! I get that," her cheek is flat on the cheap plastic.
"There's 2 year construction at my place." He can't bring himself to voice it directly but she catches on, grabbing weekly for her phone from his hand.
"It'd be a stretch but there could make it work." She mumbles calculations under her breath, most of them wrong.
"I'll let Tobikichi know."
4.
"You live like this?"
"Not usually," he shrugs and moves to pick up some of the boxes. Utano follows his lead, picking up a few lighter things on her own. She eyes his weights with dread as well as the bag filled with empty beer bottles next to it.
To there it's down three flights of stairs to the moving van. After a game of jenga with Utano's boxes it's back up the stairs. Luckily, Uramichi doesn't have all that much but what there is is heavy. The bed, the desk, the television, the dresser, the weights, and a singular bag of knickknacks. No posters, no colorful clothes, no pets or even any sweets. Utano almost gags at the fact that his toiletries are all from the 100 yen store.
All of this, of course, to the tune of construction.
"This SUCKS," Utano complains on their third trip back up. Uramichi slows slightly but doesn't respond, "why is all your stuff heavy."
"People say that your house reflects your soul and mine is really damn heavy," he's not looking at her, voice carrying a light and airy tone.
"Well, my soul is as bright as I am. So I'll help you lift."
5.
The boxes are scattered all around them. Uramichi's sipping from a very messy sculpted mug, one from Utano's crafting phase. She's been through a lot of phases, with a lot of art and posters. He thinks he's meant to be drinking from a bunny.
"No, to the left," He comments while sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back against one of the kitchen chairs. Utano grumbles but she was the one who demanded he sit there in the first place.
"She should go to the right, because the underground idols should go with the alternative idols." The poster she's fumbling with cringles under her touch.
"But she's dressed in light colors, it looks all wrong next to the blacks."
"It's an intentional contrast. As the idol expert I know how to do this."
"Of course, that's exactly why you're subletting a condo with your co-worker," she stiffens and the poster falls. He takes a sip rather than speak, trying to weather the nerve he's just touched.
"Let it drop, I'm the one that let it happen." There's a shudder from her, but her back straightens and her shoulders set a moment after. Then, raw with tension, "but it's fine. I do what I like, the independent woman is what everyone really wants to be now."
"Maybe she'd fit better with the Akiba-kei idols." And then, a sigh of relief from Utano. The expulsion of something tight in her chest.
"Yeah, she fits better over there anyway."
6.
"Are you okay in there?" Utano knocks gently on the door to his room. Uramichi hears her, he's been awake for a few hours if the clock is anything to go by, but he can't find the energy to reply. He can't even lick his lips, mouth filled with cotton.
"I know it's Saturday but I was hoping we could go grocery shopping today, it's your turn to make dinner."
"I'm fine." He imagines himself saying. Or maybe, "please find me before I rot."
What he does is breath out heavily. His soul leaves his body there, he can see it float up through dust particles in the air. He'll never be out of his body, his life, the world they live in. Everything is crushing, enough that it would hurt if he could feel it.
"Okay," frustrated, and Uramichi knows he should cringe and pull himself up from bed. He doesn't.
"We're having takeout then, but since you're sick I can pay for it." And she walks away, the clatter of her sandals. Guilt, one of things he can still feel, tangles at his guts. He sits in his sweat, watching the light on the wall.
"Here," he's broken out of a trance and she's there with a mug of orange juice. Setting it next to his bed she frowns down at him, placing a hand on his forehead.
"No fever then, but you should drink up."
With her so close, he's sure he has the energy to at least sit up and drink. He tests his arms hesitantly, finding his strength hasn't failed him. He's up on his his elbows when she gives him a smile but then- the wall. He's hit the last of his reserves, and no matter if she cheered or jeered he couldn't get himself up any further.
7.
It's the fifth night in a row of fried rice. Uramichi is dutifully eating his while Utano pushes hers around.
"The kids on the show eat better than that," he side eyes her. She huffs and takes a bite before scrunching her face up.
"Try getting a kid to eat this five nights in a row. We should take cooking classes."
"We don't have the money for that this month."
"Take out?"
"Already met the budget on that."
"Okay. Fine. Let's pick up a cookbook next time we're at the thrift store."
8.
For her 33rd birthday all Utano asks for is a slightly higher end jewelry set and two bottles of vodka. Uramichi buys the vodka and puts a little towards the necklace. From there, he cleans the living room and orders Indian takeout. Utano gets home to the smell of roti and saffron chicken and doesn't cry but she feels like it.
It's a few shots in when the tears do spring at her eyes, something light and warm in her chest. The horrible, wonderful feeling of settling.
"I was good," she complains, splayed out across the couch. Her stomach is full and she can imagine the taste of her mother's chocolate cake recipe in her mouth. If she goes home she can taste it, if her mom still remembers it that is. "I was really good, you've listened to my music! You know I was good."
"I've listened to your music," his voice is perfectly level, eyes locked on a nondescript part of the wall. He's like that so often these days, or maybe she just didn't notice it as much before they moved in together.
"So you know."
"We can't all be what we want to be. No one's good enough to follow their dreams." The words are half mumbled and, as always with the man, she gets the impression he's talking to someone else. Still, the lack of agreement is obvious.
"So what if my song writing was weak, they could have given me a chance! Do you know how much money I spent on training," panic inches into her voice as the full weight of loss crams down on her. "I only finished paying it off last year. I didn't even go to college!"
"College isn't what people say it is."
"But I still wanted to try!" She knows she's yelling, moping on what should be a wonderful day. But she's 33 with only six meals she can cook, a job she'll age out of, and a shitty condo where the heat barely works. Posters for idols, job training seminars, self help books scatter the tables and chairs, fill their home close to bursting because all she does is try.
"I wonder why we tell the kids to try try again when it only means they'll fail." He's looking at her now, another drink close to his lips, "but you can't just stay down, even if you fail every time. We can't tell them not to try and live, they're kids they deserve some fun."
"I don't want to be a kid. I want a steady boyfriend and a good job. I'm sick of feeling 20." Some of the fight bleeds out of her and she sinks lower, becoming one with the couch. Something flickers in her brain and the affirmations for success bubble to the top.
"Let's face it, no one gets anywhere in this economy," Uramichi is still talking.
"Wait," she cuts him off, grappling for the right choice of words, "repeat after me."
"Okay?"
"I've got this!" She pumps the air as she speaks.
"I'm not doing this." He turns away from her immediately, eyes on the ground.
"Please, it's my birthday."
"It's 2, it's not your birthday anymore."
"If you do it I'll clean the bathroom for three months."
"....fine."
"Okay! I've got this!"
"I've got this," hesitant but there.
"Life is a tv show and I'm the star!"
"Life is a show and I'm the star." He says it in his nii-san voice then giggles at himself. Something twists in her heart, the first time she's heard him laugh in weeks.
"I'll be okay!"
"I'll be okay."
"I'm happy and healthy! I love life!"
He stumbles on that one, his own throat chokes him after the first word. There's a humorless snort before he takes another drink.
"I don't believe this garbage"
"You don't have to believe it," she finds herself saying with real urgency, panic fluttering under her ribs. "You just have to say it. The believing comes later, I think."
"So it doesn't work for you."
"C'mon, together this time."
And then, just out of pace with each other, "I'm happy and healthy, I love life."
9.
"So, that was a mistake." Uramichi coughs through the flour covering him. The cherry sauce smolders and smokes in its pan, both of them unsalvageable. Utano's too caught up in her laughter to really care though.
"We still have flour, we could try to make some fry bread- make it a whole American thing?"
"We can't change the script, it's already been written about the French. If the cherry calflought- calfright- the thing doesn't work we'll just have to make something else."
Utano flips through pages of French Patisserie in the Home Kitchen, grimy with their failed attempt.
"Easy to make, easy to make" she mutters to herself while Uramichi turns off the burner, the oven and the mixer.
"Creme brulee?"
"I am not letting you near a blow torch."
"Oh! How about palmier, they look like elephant ears. The kids will love that."
He looks at them and something must appear in his mind, because he smiles slightly. It disappears almost as quickly, but a smile's a smile.
10.
For Uramichi's 32nd birthday he gets two bottles of vodka and a new bench to press on. Not new weights, those are far too pricey, but the bench is at least something. He didn't ask for anything, only a "day to forget I exist on earth". This, apparently, was Utano's solution. They drink quickly in between bites of hitsumabushi. The food tastes slightly off, spiced in all the wrong ways, but they're getting there. Sixth time will be the charm.
"And last but not least," she comments as she pulls out a pre-packaged cheese cake. The slice set before him is large and he reaches out to take a bite when she slams a candle into it with ferociously. She has a dinky "8" from the 100 yen store and a set of matches.
"I'm not turning 8."
"It was this or 1," she replies, focused on lighting it. The blue and white pokadots melt and combine under the heat of the match. The candle itself lights on the second try, dripping unappetizingly onto his dessert. He watches, as if the thought could inspire it to go out.
"C'mon! blow it out, make a wish."
Whatever he wishes for, or if he wishes at all, he doesn't tell her. He just fixes the candle with a strange look, part determination and something else entirely, before blowing it out with force.
"There, happy birthday Uramichi!" She claps him on the back before settling down to eat her own slice, just as large but candle free. He plucks the 8 down, setting it to the side, before skimming some of the melted wax off. Then, suitably clean, he eats his birthday cake. It tastes overly sugary, sticking to his teeth. The slightest hint of something he can't place haunts the aftertaste. The strange flavor sparks a memory of his mother ruffling his hair, his father's sparse words of approval.
"Stop looking at your cake like that, we are not having a repeat of my birthday." Utano is authoritative, pushing her finished plate away. She moves over to his radio, flicking through the buttons. It's all the same; sports talk, speculation on the end of the world, another corrupt deal uncovered. She shuts it off with a huff.
"If you don't like it plug in the aux." She does, humming over her options before inspiration strikes. A quick search later and a bouncy girl group fills their home with life. Uramichi sighs, if only for show, but stands up when she pulls him up.
"This album was my favorite as a kid. It's what made me want to be an idol." She's twirling, bobbing her head, and moving her body in all sorts of ways. She's the mix between a middle aged mom and a little girl, while the drunkenness certainly doesn't help.
But when she grabs his hands, some excitement bleeds through. They make a closed circuit, their combined movements in the perfect middle between frantic and sluggish. Her infectiousness, his follow through, and a little bit of warmth for the world.