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“Shameless – that’s what you are. I have no quarrel with the Trojans, they’ve done me no wrong, but I came to fight and die at your call. After all I’ve done and all I’ve given, you order me to surrender my prize because you chose poorly? Well fuck your war, and fuck you!”
Itadori Yuuji licks his lips and raises his eyes from the script to the pane of glass separating the recording booth from the director’s room. Yaga switches on the intercom. “That was good, Itadori-kun. Try it again with a little more underlying threat in the line about your prize – you’re pissed and you’re not trying to hide it.”
Ijichi the assistant, sitting beside Yaga with a laptop, calls the take number. Across from him Getou Suguru, veteran voice actor and famous for playing villains with complicated pasts, picks up on his line: “Find me some other prize, then – I won’t be the only man who goes without.” His voice is deep, resonate, with just a tinge of jealousy; Yuuji is so busy appreciating it he almost doesn’t remember his line.
“There’s nothing else here to give you – but I promise that once the city is taken my men will give you a portion of our share of the plunder.” He’s made a note to emphasize the our, lording his generosity.
“What are you saying, Achilles? That I should sit here, unrewarded, while you keep your own prize? Either you give me yours, or I’ll take her.”
Itadori picks up his final lines, bringing more volatility to them. “Shameless – that’s what you are. I have no quarrel with the Trojans, they’ve done me no wrong, but I came to fight and die with my men at your call. After all I’ve done and all I’ve given, you order me to surrender my prize because you chose poorly? Fuck your war, and fuck you!”
He and Getou both look up; this time Yaga nods. “That’ll do. We’ve already got the rest of the argument, so we’ll just finish up with the final piece between Achilles and Patroclus.”
“Oh good,” murmurs Gojou, “I was getting bored.”
Yuuji swallows and looks over at the third member of the cast of Wine Dark Sea currently tucked into the recording booth. Gojou Satoru is a legitimate super-star in the seiyuu world, has voiced main characters in several huge Shounen shows, one running to hundreds of episodes. He has an enormous fan following, and moonlights as a singer with a couple of small-time bands. He has more connections than the royal family, and has sponsorships and endorsements that probably make him more money than his voice acting does.
And he’s hot. Seriously hot, all white feathered hair and blue eyes deep as glaciers. Long legs in designer jeans, long fingers turning the script’s pages.
This is not who Yuuji expected to be playing against in his break-out role. He’s a rookie seiyuu, only just starting to look beyond villain-of-the-week parts. And all of a sudden he’s playing lead in one of the season’s most anticipated anime, playing a historical hero beside a cultural hero.
“Ready then, Yuuji?” asks Gojou, leaning forward towards his mic. Yuuji smiles, skin hot beneath his collared shirt, and raises his script.
The assistant calls out the take and Gojou starts. His voice is low, with just a slight throb to it. The kind of voice the fans fall in love with. “We’ve been fighting for nine years. We’ve sacrificed so much for this war – are you really planning to back out now?”
“So I should stand by and take the insult? From who – a man who adores nothing so much as the sound of his own title, and his red-haired brother? From a strategist and a speech-maker? No – I’m the man who will win this war; they should be begging for my help.”
“Men will die, Achilles.” Gojou is looking right at him, eyes soft, plaintive. Yuuji swallows, but keeps his voice rough, firm.
“Not mine. Enough, Patroclus. They’ve made their beds, let them lie.”
There’s a moment of pause, then Yaga’s voice breaks in. “Good – that had good energy. I think we have what we need for today. Getou-san, you’re on again at two with Fushiguro.”
Getou waves his acknowledgement and stands. Gojou rises too. “You want to get some lunch, Itadori?” offers Getou.
“Um, thanks, but no. I’ve got some more practice to do – need to work on my lines for this afternoon.”
“You’ll do fine,” says Gojou, smiling. Getou slaps him on the arm.
“What are you, a proper sempai now? Get your ass in gear.” Gojou smacks him back in the shoulder, and the two of them walk out of the booth chatting. Yuuji watches them go, watches the long length of Gojou’s back and his flat ass.
Untouchable. That’s what they say about Gojou. Oh, not his body – he’s a playboy, and his flings pop up now and again in the sleazier papers. But he’s never gone serious, never let anyone near his heart.
Yuuji’s a rookie without reputation or respect, and he has bills to pay. He can’t afford a fling that could backfire on his career. So he keeps his head down and focuses on his scenes for the afternoon.
***
Yaga described Achilles as head-strong, fickle, emotional and volatile. He’s a young man with an enormous chip on his shoulder, loud and brassy and struggling to find balance. It’s his best friend and companion, Patroclus, who is there to soften him. Patroclus is gentle where Achilles is steely, and calm where he’s explosive.
Yuuji has come up through the ranks playing young men with strong emotions; he can do volatile and he can do furious with a slice of youthful inexperience. Being brash comes easily to him, high-energy and high-impact are character traits he can bust out with ease. It’s softness that he struggles with, finding the timbre in his range to indicate not just quietness but depth of emotion.
“There was no time to watch the sea at home. Now I do nothing else. I would rather see the topless towers burn. No. I would rather see them all burn.” He looks up at the booth, where Yaga’s frowning.
“Hm, still not quite getting it, Itadori-kun. Needs more depth, more edge. We want to hear the emotion beneath the words.”
“Sorry, Yaga-san. I’ll try again.”
The cut is called again and he tries to find that spark, the flame that will heat his words. But when he looks up, Yaga’s still frowning.
Behind him, tucked up in the corner waiting the next scene, Gojou unfolds himself and pulls closer. His eyes are shining; his lips are shining, shimmery with god knows what. Yuuji blinks rapidly to stop himself staring but then he’s looking into those eyes and it’s not better.
“Talk to me, not the mic,” says Gojou. “I’m here, beside you, listening to your frustrations. Tell it to me.”
Yaga shrugs and Ijichi calls the take. Yuuji, a little nervous but looking at Gojou instead of the mic, focuses on the words as though he’s telling a story to a friend rather than reading a line. “There was no time to watch the sea at home. Now I do nothing else. I would rather see the topless towers burn. No. I would rather see them all burn.” For a moment it’s almost like he’s the one meaning the words, feeling the words. Then Gojou smiles and the spell is broken. Yuuji looks up and Yaga’s nodding.
“Good – much better, Itadori-kun. We’ll keep that one. Gojou-san, you’re up next.”
Yuuji pulls back and swallows, and watches Gojou seamlessly recite his words, all truth and gentleness. The kind of man anyone would want as a friend.
***
“So, Yuuji.”
Yuuji, standing in the studio lobby texting Fushiguro on his phone about the next day’s recording session, looks up. Gojou’s there, wearing an old worn leather jacket that looks incredibly comfortably and also incredibly hot. Getou’s coming up behind him, some papers under his arm.
“Um, yes?” he says, hand twitching on his phone. “You were great today, Gojou-san – I really appreciate the pointers.”
“Eh, it’s nothing. Who would I be if I didn’t help a young up-and-coming rookie?”
“Gojou Satoru?” suggests Getou quietly from behind him.
“You, shut up,” says Gojou, pointing without looking. “You –” he swivels his arm around to Yuuji. “When’s our next session?”
“Tuesday,” says Yuuji, who definitely hasn’t underlined the dates on his recording schedule where he’s co-recording with Gojou.
“Good. Wear something cute – I love this hipster librarian vibe you’ve got going on.”
Yuuji, who’s wearing a blue plaid shirt and khakis, plus black heavy-framed glasses for the small font on the scripts, smiles awkwardly. “That wasn’t really – I mean – it’s just who I am, Gojou-san.”
“It’s not just you. I asked Megumi about you, you know. He told me to mind my own fucking business, but from the way he glared at me when I asked I’m guessing you like karaoke?”
“Um – I don’t not like it,” says Yuuji. “But Gojou-san, I…”
“You? You’re taken? You’re busy? You’re not attractive to beautiful men with sexy sexy voices?”
“No, none of that,” says Yuuji faintly.
“Good. Then maybe next time we can go out to karaoke after. This show’s going to be big, Yuuji. Probably a radio show, definitely character singles. Gotta practice singing in character. I’d love to hear you do something from AKB48 as Achilles.”
“Okay,” says Getou, coming up behind him and putting his hands on Gojou’s shoulders and pushing. “This is your intervention calling. Stop trying to seduce helpless rookies in the foyer. Itadori – don’t do anything you don’t want to, and probably don’t do anything you do want to either, when it comes to this guy. Satoru, move it, we’ve got reservations and you know how Shouko gets when you’re late.”
“When we’re late,” mutters Gojou, but he does start walking towards the door. “See you on Tuesday, Yuuji,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Yeah – see you,” says Yuuji. As soon as the door closes behind them he slumps down against the wall and lets out a deep breath.
He looks back to the text chain with Fushiguro and sees he’s texted him 25 puke emojis.
***
“You must know his reputation,” says Fushiguro Megumi, a fellow seiyuu and voicing Odysseus in Wine Dark Sea, over tempura at an izakaya later that night.
“I mean, sure. Who doesn’t? Hot, rich, playboy.”
“Hot rich playboy with the personality of a dumpster fire,” corrects Fushiguro, dipping a piece of yam in sauce and biting it off. He has good teeth – straight, with just a little too much incisor. He’s got the kind of looks Yuuji would have expected Gojou to go for, handsome in a delicate way, pretty rather than rugged. But maybe Gojou has had enough of pretty. Yuuji, even he will admit, is built like a bunker. He’s never felt insecure about his appearance.
“He’s been nice to me. I mean, he jokes and whatever, but he’s been helping me stay grounded. Kind, empathetic.”
“Itadori, that’s his character. That’s not him. Please don’t make the mistake of falling head over heels for Patroclus – he’s a fictional character.”
Yuuji dips a piece of shrimp. “I’m not falling for anyone. I’m just saying – he’s been good to work with. That’s it. He’s out of my league, I know that. Don’t worry, Fushiguro.”
“He’s not out of your league – he’s just a grenade rattling around with the pin pulled. So stay away from him for your own good. If this show takes off – when it takes off – you’ll be going places, Itadori. Focus on that.”
Yuuji smiles softly. “I’ll try.”
***
“I pray to the nymph who bore me, I send my wishes into the void, Mother Thetis hear my pleas, and send the Trojans their victories.” Yuuji focuses on imparting gravitas and command to the words, the certainty of a boy asking his mother for help.
“Achilles, what are you doing?” Beside him Gojou is concentrating, his voice soft but worried, kind as ever but not concerned. He worries his lip as he speaks, all empathy in line with his character.
“If the Greeks won’t return my prize I’ll see them beaten back and blighted, I’ll send them death on the wind until they come back on their knees asking me to save them. Let them cry for Achilles – let them beg.” He spits out the word like acid, feels it leave his tongue.
“They’re our allies –”
“They’ve made me a mockery. Don’t waste your kindness on them; your gentle heart deserves better friends.”
“Achilles –”
He leans forward, voice low. Right now he’s speaking to only one man. “You’ll stay by me, won’t you? Even now, I need you.”
Gojou looks up at him and sighs, a bittersweet smile on his lips. “I’ll be by your side, as always.”
“Great,” says Yaga from the director’s room, startling Yuuji out of the moment. “Good chemistry. We’ll do one more take – Itadori-kun, a little more vigor in the invocation. Gojou-san, back off just a hair in your breathlessness.”
“Got it.”
“Okay, we’ll go again.”
They finish the take and then spend the afternoon on flashbacks to the heroes’ youths in Phthia – Achilles training to be a soldier and a prince, Patroclus training to be his right hand. Then the coming of Odysseus and their attempt to avoid the war by dressing as women, foiled by the Greek strategist.
“It’s a compelling story,” says Gojou when they’re almost done. “And you’d look cute in a dress.”
“Me, or Achilles?”
Gojou smiles and cocks his head to the side. “Hm, which do you think?”
Yuuji feels his mouth drying out, tongue sticking to the roof. “You’re very quick at joking, Gojou-san.”
“I suppose so. Suguru would certainly agree.”
Yuuji shifts, making himself comfortable while Yaga and the sound tech review something on the other side of the glass. “You two go back a long ways, huh?”
“Sure. We went to high school together, and took the same career path. Different strengths, though, different work.”
“Yeah – he plays villains where you play heroes.”
Gojou smiles. “I have wondered about switching over to the dark side, you know. Something subtle and complex. What do you think?”
“I think…” Yuuji swallows. “I like you as a hero, Gojou-san. Someone intelligent and compassionate. You’re good at that – when you voice those roles, I really feel close to them.”
“Oh?” Gojou reaches out, picks up Yuuji’s glass of water, and watching him takes a drink from it. “I like that,” he says. “I like it very much. Do you think I could be a good man, for you?”
Yuuji’s foot slips from where it’s resting on the cross-bar of his chair and he startles. “No – um – I mean – you’re really great, Gojou-san, and I love working with you. I feel very lucky to have this role and your guidance. But… but that’s it.”
Gojou blinks. “You aren’t interested in anything more?”
Yuuji takes a breath. “What I’m interested in and what I can afford are two different things. You – you’re like the sun, Gojou-san. And if I get too close to that my wings’ll melt and I’ll fall into the sea. I need to keep my distance.”
“Even if –” begins Gojou, but at that point the mic cuts in from the other room.
“Okay, we’re ready for the next cut. We’re at 221, the scene where Patroclus agrees to go to war with Achilles.”
Yuuji straightens and grabs his script, forcefully re-routing his attention to the work at hand. Beside him Gojou’s sitting stilly, looking strangely blank. Yuuji looks down at the script and, when the take is read, starts reading.
“I go at the head of 2500 Myrmidons and 50 ships. If we are to fight this war, we won’t lose.”
“If you are to fight this war, I’ll be there beside you.”
“I would let you stay behind, if you asked,” says Yuuji, looking up now at Gojou. Gojou looks up and speaks to him, not the mic.
“Your fate is to win renown in battle. Mine is to be at your side.”
“Then we go together – swift-footed Achilles and great-hearted Patroclus.”
“As you say.”
Yaga calls the cut and Yuuji leans back, sighing. They’re done for the day. He reaches out for his water, then sees the imprint of Gojou’s lip gloss on the rim and withdraws his hand.
“Thank you both for your hard work today,” Yaga says, popping in the booth through the connecting door. “Itadori-kun, you’re back on Thursday for some more work, mostly reactions. Gojou-san, you’re not back until next Monday.”
They both nod, Yuuji reaching down and grabbing his messenger bag to dig out his back-up water bottle. Gojou’s standing and stretching, arms over his head and his long torso even longer. His shirt rides up to show a strip of pale toned stomach, the lines of his flanks disappearing into his trousers. Yuuji looks away.
“What about karaoke tonight?” asks Gojou.
Yuuji focuses on securing the cap on his bottle. “Gojou-san…”
“I know you’re not interested in more, but we can still relax and have fun, can’t we?”
He tucks his bottle away and looks up. “Sorry, Gojou-san. I’m busy tonight. Maybe another time. I’ll see you next week, okay?”
He pushes out past the veteran seiyuu without waiting for an answer, head down. The benefit to Gojou’s height is that there’s no way he’ll be able to see how torn Yuuji is.
***
Yuuji’s next session with Gojou is the Monday one Yaga mentioned; Yuuji looks forward to it with a mixture of excitement and hesitancy. But when he runs into the veteran in the lounge that morning waiting for their session to be called Gojou is sitting on the couch with his long legs outstretched, pleasant and mellow, his usual flirting absent.
“You look like you’ve been pressed into your clothes on the train,” says Gojou when Yuuji comes in to grab some water. Yuuji flushes and looks down – he is a bit rumpled. “Long commute?”
“About an hour. You know how it is – prices in Tokyo are crazy.”
“Sure. Are you from Tokyo?”
Yuuji glances at him but he’s playing with a little key-chain, apparently giving the conversation only half his attention.
“Uh, no. Sendai. Born and raised. Started out doing the usual radio and bit-parts long distance, then moved here when I realised I actually had to start paying my bills.”
Gojou’s lips turn upwards. “Mm, yes, the banks do like to be paid.” The key-chain, Yuuji realises, is a little representation of him – white hair, blue eyes, black suit.
“Yeah – so do money lenders,” says Yuuji bleakly. Gojou looks up for a moment before dropping his eyes again, and Yuuji shrugs. “Nothing sordid. My Grandpa had some big hospital bills towards the end. Now they’re my bills I guess.”
“Your parents?”
Yuuji shrugs again, harder this time. “They’re out of the picture.”
“I see,” says Gojou. Of course there’s no way he does, not when even Yuuji doesn’t, but what else could he say? “You’re all alone here in town, then?”
“Kind of. I live alone, but I’ve got a lot of friends. Fushiguro, and Kugisaki – she’s playing Cassandra, you know.”
“Mm, yes. She told me she’d nail my dick to the wall if I looked at… who is it? Maki? Who’s playing Helen?”
Yuuji smiles. “Yeah, she’s not too subtle. But she’s a good friend. And Fushiguro’s a great guy.”
“The one thing your friends have in common is that neither of them like me,” complains Gojou with a wry mouth.
Yuuji sits down on the couch beside him, bag on his lap. “Yeah, well. Neither of them really know you.”
“Neither do you.”
“I guess not, but… I don’t think you could be as good as you are at playing Patroclus if you weren’t a good guy, Gojou-san. I also just… I really need this job, you know?”
Gojou sighs theatrically. “I know. We could be star-crossed lovers, though, kept apart by fate and money lenders.”
“Maybe that’ll be our next show together,” says Yuuji. And then, as Gojou drops his head back and moans, “Where’d you get that key chain?”
***
“The boats are burning,” says Gojou, voice low and rich and worried.
“Let them burn,” says Yuuji. “They aren’t ours.”
“The fire will come to us. And then the Trojans will come to us, and we will be defenseless.”
“I won’t fight, Patroclus. Not until Agamemnon begs me himself.”
“Then let me go in your place. Give me your armour, your weapons, and let me lead the men.”
Yuuji takes an audible breath, letting the mic pick it up. “You don’t have to.”
Gojou catches his eyes and smiles, lets that smile enter his voice. “For you – I do.”
Yuuji almost snaps out the words – angry, but also worried and unwilling to show it. “Then go quickly, and come back twice as fast. I’ve already lost my prize. I won’t lose you too.”
“Cut,” says Yaga. “That was great. We’ll do it again – watch for the emphasis on ‘for you,’ but you’re really pulling this together.”
“He’s right,” murmurs Gojou when Yaga turns away to say something to Ijichi. “You’re really finding yourself.”
“Thanks, Gojou-san. But I think you’re always stronger when you’re playing off someone amazing.”
“Flattery,” dismisses Gojou, but with a grin.
They do a second and third take, Yuuji feeling strangely drained afterwards, and then they’re released for an hour while the sound techs review the files.
“Lunch?” suggests Gojou. “Nothing untoward, scout’s honour. But we do need to eat.”
He’s right; they do. Yuuji nods. “Okay – there’s a little ramen place around the corner.”
***
“It’s nice that you’re still close to your high school friends,” says Yuuji as they slurp ramen together, sitting in a dingy ramen bar with only one chef and a five-item menu posted on bamboo boards behind the counter.
Gojou, picking up his fishcake delicately with his chopsticks, smiles. “Is it?”
“Sure – I was a no one in high school. No real friends, no one to think back fondly on their time with me. You and Getou-san are amazing.”
“I doubt he’d put it like that. But yeah, we’ve stayed close – and there’s a third, Ieiri Shouko who’s a vocal coach now. I’d introduce you but she’d probably eat you for lunch. We’re a pretty hard-nosed bunch.”
“Why is that?”
Gojou shrugs. “Just who we are, I suppose. I came from money – taking up voice acting was a blot on the family name; my parents burn Yukan Fuji when they see my name on the front page, you can imagine. Suguru’s parents died in a car crash in high school and he had to make a career for himself. And Shouko’s just a bad bitch. I guess we just gelled. Three outcasts who rose to national prominence – not bad, huh.”
Yuuji looks at him, unswayed by his bright tone. “I think it must have been hard. On all of you. Gramps loved me, I’m sure, but he never showed it. That’s not the same as losing your parents, or being cut out, but – I know what it’s like to feel like no one’s got your back.”
“You should give yourself more credit. And your friends, too. You’re going to break out in the industry with this role, and you’ve got Megumi and Nobara ready to break kneecaps behind you.” He takes a drink of water – his own, this time.
“Gojou-san, do you mind me asking… you’re really popular in the media, and across the country. But maybe not so much in the industry.” Even as he hears the words, he regrets them, blushing. “I’m sorry, that was rude, never mind.”
Gojou smiles around the edge of the glass, then puts it down. “Nah, you’re good. It’s ‘cause I’m a brat, Yuuji. I make peoples’ lives a misery to them. I flirt with the cast and I tease the crew and supplant the director. And I get away with it because I’m good.”
“And does it have to be that way?”
“Are you asking me to change? For you?”
Yuuji raises his hands hurriedly. “No! No – I’m not. Honestly. I just… you’re so sharp and bright but you also seem really brittle and I… kind of wonder if you’re actually happy like this?”
Gojou blinks, his frost-white lashes fluttering over his ice-blue eyes. “Well… I guess I haven’t thought about it so objectively before. I’ve always been a shit disturber, and I’ve learned to embrace that. And… there’s never been anyone who mattered enough for me to want to change.”
It feels like the first real honesty he’s ever heard from the veteran – and it’s overwhelming. Yuuji picks up his glass of water and gulps it down. “Fair! That’s fair!” he says, mouth still half-full of water. “You do you, Gojou-san. I mean… you’re the veteran, you know best.”
“Maybe in the booth,” agrees Gojou. “Out here… I’m just a guy. A guy who, like you said, maybe isn’t actually that happy with his life.”
“Sorry,” says Yuuji. “I didn’t mean to pry into things that are none of my business. I probably just should’ve kept my mouth shut…”
“I think you asked because you care. Because if our show were real life you’d be Patroclus and I’d be Achilles, and you’d be the one who really understood how to care and I’d be the asshole left alone. But enough of that. Eat up – we’ve only got twenty minutes before we’re due back.”
“Shit,” says Yuuji, and raises his bowl to his lips.
***
They finish recording for the day with only one more day of shared recording to go. Yuuji packs up his bag while Gojou chats with the guy playing Hector, Toudou Aoi.
On the way out, with his bag slung over his shoulder, Gojou breaks away to join him. “No pressure, but any interest in that karaoke session?”
Yuuji smiles. “Thanks, Gojou-san. But no – I’ve gotta go.”
“Okay,” says Gojou. “Take care.”
***
“I just think he’s had kind of a shitty life and it’s twisted him a bit,” says Yuuji that night over beers and snacks with Fushiguro and Kugisaki at a smoky bar by the station.
“I just think he’s kind of a shitty person, end of story,” says Kugisaki, chugging like a pro.
Yuuji frowns. “Not sure that’s fair.”
“Yuuji, we’re talking about a guy who goes through partners like Kleenex. He’s mouthy in the studio, he flirts with anything with legs, and he laughed when I told him to keep his grimly claws away from Maki-san.”
“Yeah, we all know you’re going down with that ship, Kugisaki, but Itadori’s not wrong. Gojou isn’t irredeemable. He just… hasn’t made effort to redeem himself. And frankly, I’m not all that sure that it’s possible to change that at… what is he, thirty?”
“Twenty-eight,” says Yuuji, who has his biography memorized. Birthday December 7th, height 190cm, weight 80kg. Favourite food, sweet things.
“Practically a dinosaur,” replies twenty-three year-old Kugisaki, sucking the end of a yakitori skewer. “He probably knows how to use a VHS player. He probably knows how to use a landline.”
Fushiguro gives her a flat look. “Okay, yeah, we get it. But this doesn’t help with Itadori’s burgeoning crush.”
“It’s not burgeoning. It’s just… there, okay? I’m not acting on it or anything.”
The black-haired man stares at him.
“I’m not! He’s asked me out twice and I said no.”
“He asked you out?” demands Kugisaki, like Yuuji had accused him of puppy murder.
“Just to karaoke! And I said no!”
Fushiguro nudges Kugisaki’s elbow out from under her before she can retort to that; while she’s busy spilling her beer he says: “And when he asks you out a third time?”
“He’s not going to. Guys like Gojou-san can have anyone. I’m chopped liver, and I’ve taken myself out of the running. It was nice that he was into me but it’s over and that’s just the way it had to be. Okay?”
“Itadori,” says Fushiguro, “you’re an idiot. And you need another round.”
***
Their last scene together isn’t even together, really. Because by now, Patroclus is dead in Achilles’ armour, cut down by Hector’s spear. Gojou’s already recorded his final line, nothing more than Achilles’ name, but somehow he sounds broken, sounds as though he has blood in his lungs. It’s breathtaking.
Yaga keeps Gojou in the booth while Yuuji records his reaction, the news delivered by messenger.
“It’s Patroclus,” pants the extra. “He’s dead at Hector’s hands, mistaken for you. The Trojan has stolen your armour but if you move quickly you might take back his body.”
Yuuji sits, just breathing, each breath faster, more frantic. Until: “I go now – to trample their city and blast their armies and kill their general. Death to any who stand in my way. Death to Hector!”
He doesn’t think he’s ever conveyed such despair or such rage, his words ragged and his voice slipping out of his control with the violence of his emotion. He’s panting when he’s done, on the edge of tears.
“Great, Itadori-kun, that’s the one,” says Yaga.
In the booth, Gojou just nods.
***
Yuuji records the rest of his lines alone or with others, the rescue of Patroclus lifeless corpse and the funeral where he and his men all burn their hair alongside the fallen man’s body, his steel-cold determination to finish this war, and finally his mad screams during the killing and desecration of Hector. His own death is almost quiet in comparison, Achilles resigned by now to his fate. His reason to live is gone, he has neither love nor revenge left.
And then the work is over. Wine Dark Sea finishes principal audio recording and the main cast are invited out to an all-you-can-drink party by the company.
Yuuji feels drained like he never has by a production. It wasn’t that he worked harder, although he definitely did. It’s that the characters resonated so deeply. With Patroclus’ death he lost the part of Gojou that he was falling in love with. With Achilles’ death, he lost his own chance at kindling that connection.
So he sits at the banquet hall drinking with Fushiguro and Kugisaki and Zen’in Maki, while on the other side of the room Gojou and Getou and Iori Utahime get sloshed at the bar. It’s fine, it was always going to end like this. They talk about stupid gossip and tell stories about previous productions, and if Yuuji’s a little quiet no one seems to notice.
It’s during a lull in the conversation while Kugisaki and Maki-san have gone to the women’s (totally not to make out, Kugisaki hissed at them as she left) that Fushiguro leans over. “You look wrecked,” he says.
“What? Nah – I’m just tired. It’s been a slog, you know? I’ve never done more than a three-episode run before.”
“Uh huh. So it has nothing to do with pretty Patroclus getting drunk over there at the bar, then?”
Yuuji looks at Fushiguro side-long, Fushiguro shrugs. “Look man, I’m not saying it’s a good idea because it’s not. But also… you’ve gotta do the opportunity cost analysis.”
“Wha?” says Yuuji.
“Is it better to stay away from him and spend your days pining, or get it out of your system and face a possible media blip?”
Yuuji looks down at his drink. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Fuck dude.” Fushiguro elbows him in the side. “Either way it’s not the end of the world, right?”
“I need this job, Fushiguro. I need my reputation.”
The dark-haired man shrugs. “Then move on and go find some cute guy who’s not a jerk. Win-win.”
“Sure,” says Yuuji.
***
It’s late. He’s not drunk but he is tipsy, and he’s got ten minutes before the last trains stop for the night. He’s trying to hurry out of the banquet hall but the rest of the drunken cast members are sloshing out too, and no one’s watching where they’re going. Yuuji gets shoved in the back and kicked in the ankle, and when he finally makes it to the door he trips on something and it’s only a strong hand on his arm that pulls him over the threshold and to safety. Suddenly he’s out in the cold night air, breath misting, pinned up against the wall of the building by Gojou Satoru.
In the sodium street lights Gojou’s hair is the delicate gold of champaign, his eyes closer to sea-glass than river blue. He’s looking down at Yuuji, expression smouldering.
“You were ignoring me tonight,” he says.
“No – no. I just… I’m sorry, Gojou-san. This whole thing has been a lot, and I want such a lot, and I have so many bills to pay.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” murmurs Gojou, leaning down closer. Yuuji’s eyes slip closed. He can feel the warmth of Gojou’s breath on his cheek, can smell the alcohol.
“But it would be. I think with you, things will always be complicated.” He opens his eyes and looks up. Gojou’s just watching, waiting. “I wish it were different. I do. I wish I was someone different, and…”
“That,” says Gojou, raising a finger and pressing it against his lips, “is something you should never wish for.”
Yuuji just nods, miserably, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Further down the street, behind Gojou, an LED sign-board lights up with the time. 1:15. He’s just missed the last train. “Fuck,” he says, pushing Gojou away and running his hands through his hair. He can’t afford a hotel.
“Yuuji?”
“Nothing. ‘S nothing. I just… the trains…”
Gojou frowns, then looks at his watch and nods. “You could come home with me? Just to sleep,” he says, and it suddenly occurs to Yuuji that Gojou is not actually very drunk at all.
“Thanks but – I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Well then. Come on.” He grabs Yuuji and tows him towards the street. Heads down until they hit the intersection and flags down a cab. It comes to a stop, the door opening. “Give him your address,” he says, then knocks on the passenger window. It rolls down at Yuuji watches him pull something out from his wallet and hand it to the driver. A fold of bills. “Take him home,” he says. And then to Yuuji: “See you around, Yuuji.”
Yuuji crawls into the cab, door shutting behind him. He mutters his address to the cab driver and then curls up in a ball in the corner and tries very hard not to cry.
He doesn’t succeed.
***
Wine Dark Sea airs to both critical and popular acclaim. A fanbase mushrooms into existence overnight, with the show being praised for its plotting, its animation, but also its stellar voice acting. By the time the first twelve of twenty-four episodes have aired there is speculation about a movie, or a prequel, or an interlude, or any other possible type of tie-in. Nanami Kento, Yuuji’s agent, is on the phone almost daily about promotions and commercials and possibly a radio show.
And then comes the news that he’s been signed up to do a character vocal single, as Gojou imagined all those months ago. Except that it’s not a solo, it’s a duet. Achilles and Patroclus, doomed comrades and – as the entire fanbase picked up on ravenously – possibly lovers.
“Please,” he says to Nanami. “I’ll do a solo, or a medley, or whatever. But not a duet.”
“You must know that it’s the chemistry between Achilles and Patroclus that’s propelled the show to the success it’s obtained. No getting around that, Itadori-kun. Sorry.”
Yuuji hangs up and puts the phone down. Then, slowly, he leans forward until his forehead is resting on the desk.
“Fuck.”
***
And so, three weeks later, he’s back at the studio. This time he’s not greeted by Yaga or Ijichi but by a vocal coach who works with actors transitioning to musical work – Ieiri Shouko.
“Pleased to meet you, Itadori-kun,” she says. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Yuuji stares, and she smiles just a little. “All of it good, I assure you.”
“Right – uh, okay. Thanks.”
“You’ve received the musical track and the lyrics, yes? I understand you haven’t done any musical recordings before…?”
“No. None at all, just you know, choir in school and karaoke and whatever. I think I have a pretty okay voice but it’s not stellar.”
She nods, approving and just a little clinical. “Not to worry, we can do wonders in post. This way, let’s hear you and then I can help give you some coaching on how to improve.”
“Um – Gojou-san… is he coming?”
“He’ll be here this afternoon. He’s very familiar with performing character songs, so I’m trusting him to bring his best without coaching.”
“Right. Of course.”
“This way then,” she says, and leads him into the booth.
They spend almost three hours going through the song, Ieiri helping him with his breathing, timber and ability to hold longer notes. She’s a good instructor and has helpful advice, along with a good ear that helps him hit his notes more confidently than he did alone. They stop at lunch, brought in for them for a conbini, and then she looks at her watch.
“Satoru’ll be here shortly, if he’s not late like usual. Is that going to be okay?”
Yuuji swallows. “Um. Why wouldn’t it be?”
She smiles, just a little. “No reason. I’m sure he’ll behave himself. Whipped dogs usually do.”
“…Whipped?”
Before she can answer there’s a knock at the door. Gojou Satoru strolls in in a black blazer cut sharply to accentuate his slim figure, and boots that probably cost more than Yuuji’s monthly earnings. “Shouko,” he says, beaming. “And Yuuji.”
If he’s at all off-balance at this meeting, there’s no sign of it. “Well, isn’t this fun?”
Ieiri gives him a bland look. “Behave yourself, Satoru. Itadori-kun, I’d like to hear the two of you go through it before I provide any advice. We’ll get everything queued up on our side, okay? I’ll leave the mic off in here until you give us the thumbs up,” she adds, discreetly. Yuuji smiles a little anemically at her, and she slips off through the door into the director’s booth.
Yuuji turns to Gojou who is shrugging off his blazer; he’s wearing just a tight white T under it and looks unreasonably hot, his body toned without having Yuuji’s muscular build. “It’s good to see you again,” the veteran says. “Not that I’m surprised – you’re a hit, now.”
“If I am, it’s thanks to you,” says Yuuji evenly.
“I’d love to take the credit, but you should take what’s yours. You’re the one who taught me about responsibility, after all.”
Yuuji looks at him, wide-eyed, and Gojou smiles. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s quite a shock to be turned down so blatantly by someone so obviously stricken with me, you know. I started to think that I really must have screwed up somewhere. And I guess… I guess I have.”
“I wasn’t trying to be critical, Gojou-san.”
“No – you wouldn’t. That’s what did it. I’m surrounded by critical people, Yuuji. You’re the one person who just… accepted it. And wanted to see something better in me than anyone else saw. I… it hurt, to think that I’d lose that because I’ve been an ass. But I’ve got no one else to blame. I understand.”
It stings: the words, the knowledge that they’re true. He can hear the truth in Gojou’s voice, his well-trained ears picking it up easily. “I wish,” he says, and then stops. Gojou shakes his head.
“You don’t have to. Let’s just… let’s just finish this. And the next time we meet, we’ll be friends, right?”
Yuuji nods, and Gojou clasps his arm, just briefly. “Okay then.” He turns to the window and gives Ieiri the thumbs up. They both slip their earphones on and step up to the mics.
It’s a little jazzy, all smoky night clubs and cabarets. Good audio quality, real instruments instead of synth; someone’s putting money into this.
They start together, the first verse shared:
We tried to hide from the war
Trained soldiers in pinafores<
When Odysseus found us out
We asked what it was all about
Gojou takes the next two lines, his voice just a little teasing:
There’s this girl, they said
Paris stole her from her bed,
Itadori takes the next two, staring back at him, smiling:
She’s not my sister or my wife,
Why should I be caught in the strife?
The refrain comes, shared again:
Ash through my fingers,
bronze through my bones,
when feeling no longer lingers,
we’ll never be alone.
Gojou picks up alone:
Fifty ships of men we brought
Ten years of war we fought
Yuuji takes over, letting some brassiness into his voice:
Agamemnon robbed me blind,
Why should I help him with his bind?
They both pick up the next verse, stronger together:
We paid in ships, we paid in blood,
We fought until the ground was mud,
And by my side you always stayed,
That’s a love I’d never trade
Ash through my fingers,
bronze through my bones,
when feeling no longer lingers,
we’ll never be alone.
The great men fell, the boats were burned,
Achilles stayed, Patroclus turned,
They cut him down upon the field,
And that’s when I refused to yield,
Yuuji takes the last verse alone, voice thick with emotion:
We packed his bones and we left room,
I slew Hector under a crescent moon,
Days later I fell alone, undefended,
They’ll bury us together, as I intended.
The music cuts out to just the percussion, a soft beat. In this last refrain Yuuji sings the main part, and Gojou comes in as his echo, their voices in perfect harmony, watching each other from beyond the mics:
Ash through my fingers
(And it’s falling like dust)
Bronze through my bones
(and someday it’ll rust)
when feeling no longer lingers
(and our story is told)
We’ll never be alone
(we don’t need to grow old)
Gojou’s voice dies, and the track ends. Yuuji’s throat is thick, his hands shaking. He pulls his headset off and slams his hand out, killing the mic to the director’s booth.
“I want to go out with you,” he says, the words pouring out of him uncontrollably. “I’m sorry I turned you down and made you think you weren’t good enough but I think I need this and –”
Gojou pulls his own headset off more slowly, then puts a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t apologize,” he says.
“But –”
“Just be yourself, okay? That’s all I want. Well, and also to go out with you – I’d really like that.”
Yuuji takes a breath, knees trembling, and smiles.
“Look at you, bright as the morning sun.” Gojou reaches out and brushes a thumb over his cheek. “Just for me, hm? I like that.”
“Gojou Satoru stop eyeing up your colleague and consider doing a day’s work,” shouts Ieiri. “We need another take.”
Gojou smiles and raises an eyebrow at Yuuji, questioning. Yuuji nods and flicks the mic back on. “Sorry, Ieiri-san. Let’s go again.”
END