Work Text:
“I’m gonna be honest with you, boy, it ain’t gonna be cheap.”
It’s not that Serizawa doesn’t expect those words after they’d slid off the main road, crashed down the curb and dropped an entire door off, but he’d hoped. Hoped for a miracle for his second hand convertible that carries the weight of the last of his poor, indulgent choices. But through those bad choices, she’d been a constant. He’d been suckered the moment he laid eyes upon her sleek body. No matter how much salary she ate to run, he hadn’t quite been able to let go yet.
“I know,” he says, and it hurts to say it.
He knows enough to tweak the suspension or to sand off scratches, but bolting a car door is a different skill set he does not have. It’s an expense entirely unbudgeted for, and he briefly toys with the idea of accepting an escort job again—it pays really well and he wouldn’t be in the red for the month. Unfortunately, he’d kind of had a revelation to not to do any more of that sort of stuff a couple of weeks ago.
It’d be too easy just to fall back into bad habits.
Serizawa leaves the mechanic to do what they can with a (bigger, deeper) hole in his pocket. It’s a sunny, bright day, a complete contrast to the irritated turmoil he feels inside. Part of it is that he has to rely on public transport until his baby is fixed up. The other part of it is that the person who is unarguably responsible for him being car-less has not so much as to say a damn ‘thank you for driving an insane seventeen year old kid and her aunt for seven hours across the country to find me’.
Serizawa still isn’t quite sure how to process the whole trip they went on. He can handle believing in taking chances and going with his gut feeling, which is exactly why he’d searched for Suzume again after seeing her in Souta’s apartment. The thing he cannot wrap his head around is that after trying his best to console Tamaki-san that Suzume didn’t just disappear forever behind an old, rickety door that led to nowhere for a whole hour, he then saw both Suzume and Souta come out from that same door after he’d walked through it himself multiple times and checked that there was nothing behind it.
Obviously, some sort of ordeal had happened, and Serizawa was generous enough to give them space. He didn’t push when the Iwato family decided to return to Kyushu, and he didn’t push when Souta mentioned he’d return to Tokyo first via the train while Serizawa decided what he wanted to do with his beat up car.
(Duct tape was the answer.
He drove back home with fewer incidents than the outgoing trip, so there.)
Except, it’d been a whole week of “not pushing” and his dear friend hadn’t had the courtesy to explain what the fuck had happened.
Serizawa counts himself as a patient man, most of the time. This time, he turns up at Souta’s apartment half expecting it to be empty again, but Souta opens the door with a smile that belays nothing about him having gone missing behind some supernatural door.
“Serizawa,” the other nods. “What’s up?”
Serizawa unconsciously flickers his gaze from the tied up ponytail to the stray strand of hair that lingers on Souta’s beauty mark below the other’s left eye. A quick glance behind Souta says that he’d been sorting out some mess. Serizawa abruptly remembers that he’d left it cleaned halfway when he decided to fuck it and search for the obviously-not-Souta’s-sister-or-cousin girl who held the only clue to finding the missing man.
“The hundred bucks I owe you,” Serizawa says bluntly. “I spent more than that to find you, so you owe me now.”
Souta looks surprised at the opener, but then the corner of his lips twitch upwards. He huffs a quiet chuckle under his breath and opens the door wider.
“Come in. Excuse the mess,” he gestures vaguely. “When I came back, I noticed some things had been organised. That was you, right? Thanks.”
Serizawa slips his shoes off before making himself comfortable—he’d been in here enough times to know Souta doesn’t mind where he sits. He ignores the stack of books strewn over the floor to lean himself against a good wall.
“Nah, it’s probably Suzume-chan,” he says with a shrug. “I first met her here, you know. Cute, if not a bit crazy, girl. How do you know her again?”
Souta does this thing where he tucks his hair behind his ear when he wants to deflect. It’s funnier when his hair is already tied up and he ends up tucking thin air. Serizawa knows he’s not giving the other any reprieve by diving headfirst into the topic the other so desperately wants to skate. Like Serizawa’d said—he’s a patient man most of the time. This isn’t one of them.
“She’s…related,” Souta manages.
Souta is nervous, Serizawa realises. He lets that be the answer for a couple of seconds.
“You do realise that I was in the car with her and her aunt for seven hours, right?” he deadpans after. “Suzume-chan may have some motive to lie for you, but Tamaki-san, her biological aunt, has never heard of you in her entire life.”
“Serizawa—”
The look is pleading; if Serizawa pushes, the dam will break and they can never go back.
“Souta,” Serizawa returns the look, with feeling. Fuck the damn dam. “I did not drive seven hours and ruin my beloved car to get this bullshit.”
A flash of guilt colours Souta’s face. “I…” he sighs. “...What do you want me to say?”
For such a smart man, Souta can be pretty stupid at times.
“For starters,” Serizawa huffs, crossing his arms. “You could explain where the fuck you went. Or why you missed the exam you spent four years preparing for. Or maybe why you didn’t think to tell me where you were at such an important time.” He notices Souta struggling to begin on any of these, so he squints, having had this suspicion for a while. “Was it a family business thing?”
“...Y-yeah.”
“Want to elaborate on the family business thing then?” Serizawa settles. “You once asked if I would listen. I’m listening.”
Souta has this depressing flicker in his eyes on the mention of ‘family business’, much like the last time Serizawa had tried to ask where Souta disappears off and on again and was deflected as usual. Souta shuffles around, picking up random books from the floor, until Serizawa wants to comment that it’s ridiculous that he’s trying to bid time or whatever. Eventually, Souta heaves a sigh, puts the books in front of him and gestures for Serizawa to come closer.
“How much do you know about the Namazu?”
Souta is pointing to a picture of a namazu-e, a woodblock print of a deity subduing the earthquake-causing catfish under a sword, in a spread out book.
Serizawa furrows his eyebrows. “It's folklore,” he says, remembering the stories his mother used to tell him as a child. “The catfish that lives beneath the earth and causes earthquakes. Why?”
Souta has a straight, unblinking face when he says this next, “It’s not a myth. It’s true. The Namazu exists.”
Serizawa can’t be blamed if he thinks Souta has lost his mind.
“Dude,” he peers at the other with a touch of genuine concern. “You wanted to teach geography. Earthquakes are caused by plate tectonics. This is primary level shit. The catfish myth probably came about because people saw more catfishes before the occurrence of an earthquake; not unusual for animals to feel the initial tremors before humans do.”
“You said you’d listen,” Souta pursed his lips, looking very serious.
“I am listening—”
“No, listen!” Souta snaps, uncharacteristic of him to raise his voice. It lowers into a hush immediately. “The Namazu exists. My family business is sealing the Namazu and making sure it never comes out. That’s where I go, from time to time. That’s where I went the last time, except I got caught up in some things and couldn’t return.”
“...That doesn’t really explain anything at all,” Serizawa says finally. “What do you mean ‘sealing’ the Namazu? And where would it ‘come out’ from?”
Souta looks like he already regrets beginning this conversation. “I seal it with a key,” he explains, toying with the brass key Serizawa had seen around Souta’s (and then Suzume’s) neck since he’d met the other. “It’s…it’s difficult to explain if you can’t see it. The Namazu lives in another world, but sometimes it sneaks into our world, through doors connecting the worlds. There are many doors, and they are scattered around the country. If the Namazu comes into our world, it will cause an earthquake. So, I have to close the doors between the worlds before it does.”
Serizawa tries to picture what this might all look like, and comes up blank. “...You can see this…this Namazu thing.”
Souta flips the book to a better (debatable) picture of some men casting spells at a long, black snake-like creature with tentacles. “It’s like a black worm. Really big. It’s hard to miss if you can see it, but only Closers have the sight.”
“Closers?”
“It’s what we call those who close the doors between worlds. Like me.”
“And Suzume-chan,” Serizawa adds, because that weird behaviour of staring at nothing in the sky and running off in haste has always stuck in his mind.
“She’s not a—...” Souta sighs. “Well, she has closed a couple of doors. She came into it accidentally.”
“As opposed to…?”
“Inheritance,” Souta says simply. “It’s a family business. I wasn’t lying about that.”
Serizawa has more questions than answers, honestly. “So there’s more of you Closer people.”
Souta winces. “Well, not—not really. In my family, my grandfather was one until his health…you know. My parents passed away early, and I don’t have any siblings—”
“What, there aren’t others out there? It’s just you?” Serizawa’s jaw slackens. “That’s not a family business! That’s a one man business!”
Souta shrugs like it isn’t a big issue. Serizawa thinks that if one person was tasked with the duty of preventing earthquakes for the entire Japanese population, something is very wrong there.
“…It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Serizawa sighs after some staring. “I just think that if this is the best lie you can come up with, well, it sucks. Then again,” he ponders. “You’re not the kind of person to lie.”
Deflect, sure. Lie? Serizawa thinks Souta has never really done that to his face. Not even when Souta straight up told him he was ruining his life gambling and drinking and smoking and sleeping around and getting into cryptocurrency scams.
“So, the last time you left, you went to seal this black worm thing,” Serizawa rephrases. “Where did you go, exactly? Why didn’t you come back?”
“I was in Miyazaki. That’s where I met Suzume. But I…I…got turned into a chair. I couldn’t possibly return without my human body, right?”
“Souta,” Serizawa pauses. This is just begging for it. “I’m going to kick your fucking ass—”
“It’s true!” Souta yells, although his face seems like it’s going to burst into a laugh, because it’s so absurd. “The keystone turned me into Suzume’s chair, and then it turned out I became the keystone, so I lost consciousness of my self or something, but then Suzume brought me back.”
None of those words make any sense, and it seems like Souta realises Serizawa has less understanding of what a keystone is than a Namazu. He spends a while more explaining the involvements of cat gods in this whole fiasco. In the midst of this, Serizawa remembers the two odd cats who had tagged along for the Tohoku ride and then never appeared again after disappearing through that door. Serizawa inwardly shudders and resolves never to think about it in detail.
“But a chair?” Serizawa is more stuck on the other tidbit. “...I vaguely remember seeing a small yellow chair when Suzume was here. I thought it was odd because it’s clearly not yours—you were that chair? ” He doubles suddenly. “Fuck, the chair ran off, and then Suzume ran off! You ran off!”
“Now you believe me?”
“Not really, but,” Serizawa shakes his head. “Oh god I have a headache.”
Souta laughs. He threads his hand through his bangs, forgetting it’s tied up and thus loosening it all. It’s ridiculous how his hair simply flicks straight when let down, framing his pretty face. Serizawa finds himself looking. Not so much at the face, since he’s always looked before, but at the key on the necklace dangling from Souta’s neck. And then it strikes him—if Souta was the chair in the room, he knows that Suzume was not the one to have tried to clean his apartment.
Fuck. What a stupid lie to get caught out on. The bastard didn’t even call him out.
“...If it helps, there’s a whole twitter thread on my adventures as a chair,” Souta says, which doesn’t really help at all.
Serizawa ignores it for now. “If you have this Closer business, why do you want to become a teacher? Was everything you told me a lie?”
They’d spent four years together fighting for the same dream. Or Serizawa thought they were. They’d been through night after night cramming for exams and complaining about shitty postings and sharing about why they each chose to do this profession. It’s not one that pays well, but it pays the soul. They’d had a mutual understanding about that.
Souta huffs, almost offended. “Of course not! Teaching is…is what I want to do, whereas being a Closer is…my duty,” he explains. “I can see the Namazu, and so, I cannot sit by and let it run its course. Anyway, I don’t get paid to be a Closer.”
Another surprising tidbit. “You don’t?” Serizawa had quickly assumed that this closing business would be funded by some religious shrine who believed in that shit. “You’re doing it out of pocket?”
“My family has funds for it,” Souta shrugs. “In the past, we were…considered important,” he gestures back to that picture in the book. “I guess generations ago, they knew we would fade into obscurity but the work will always be necessary, so they made plans.”
Serizawa flicks his gaze around the apartment again. He’s always known Souta is sort of wealthy; who could afford such a spacious apartment in central Tokyo with no real job.
“...And what happens after you?” he asks finally. “Who’s going to close the doors if you’re gone?”
Souta looks away, tucking a side bang behind his ear. “...I guess one of those arranged marriages my grandfather is trying to get me to would work out somehow.”
There must have been a weird, judgemental expression on Serizawa’s face, because Souta can’t help but laugh. “I’m kidding,” he snorts. “I don’t really know,” he answers truthfully. “Maybe I’d have a family, and my child would take it up after me. Or someone with the Sight would want to be my apprentice. I don’t know. I didn’t have to think about it so soon, but…”
But Souta was gone. He needs to start thinking about it now, if it ever happens again.
“Honestly?” Serizawa pipes up. “I think Suzume-chan would be up for it.”
“I know she would,” Souta replies without a heartbeat. “But I don’t want her to do it just because she can see the Namazu.”
“Isn’t that why you are doing it?” Serizawa throws back.
Predictably, Souta evades the question. “Have I answered all your questions?”
Serizawa’s head is still spinning, but Souta hasn’t even gotten to the thing that Souta wants to know the most. “...So why did you disappear behind a door, where Suzume-chan had to get you back?”
“I’ve told you,” Souta sighs. “I was the keystone, and I lost consciousness.”
“...I don’t really see how you can become a keystone.”
“Daijin is a god,” Souta says. “He cursed—well, transferred that duty to me.”
“And then?”
“And then he took that duty back, so that I could be free. It’s as simple as that.”
“Nothing about this is simple,” Serizawa growls. “For the record, I still don’t believe you a hundred percent.”
There’s a mixture of relief and amusement in Souta’s eyes, like he knows Serizawa would give in eventually. It’s the same look when they first met and fought about hairstyles of all things—Serizawa eventually acknowledged he was being a dick to call Souta’s long hair out when he had dyed his own like a delinquent.
“There’s still one more thing,” Serizawa raises. “Why did you decide to tell me now?”
“Weren’t you the one coming here asking for answers?” Souta smiles, and it makes his eyes crinkle. “Serizawa,” he starts, more serious like. “You made it possible for Suzume to bring me back. You saved my life. I trust you.”
Serizawa finds it difficult to meet that gaze.
“About your car, I am really sorry about it,” Souta continues. “I’ll pay for the repairs. Send me the receipt.”
Serizawa scoffs. “That’s too generous to let you off like that. I want something else,” he finds himself saying.
Souta nods, still serious. “Sure.”
“I haven’t figured out what yet,” Serizawa continues. “But you could start with buying dinner. With beer.”
Souta rolls his eyes, and it feels like they’re back to their old ways again. It is still early for dinner, but Souta indulges him by setting the books aside and shuffling downstairs to the convenience store. They take ready-made kaarage bentos, plus the brand of beer Serizawa prefers. Serizawa also gazes at the stack of smokes behind the counter—god, could he afford another pack with the amount he forked out for the car repair? Realistically he couldn’t, but the nicotine would be really helpful to process this weird day.
“—and one pack of tobacco, please,” Souta says as Serizawa returns his attention to the world at large.
“No, forget that,” Serizawa waves his hand, annoyed. Souta has been trying to get him to stop smoking for the past four years—it’d be stupid if he felt obliged to change his character just because Serizawa drove the damn car. “I was thinking of quitting, anyway.”
“I see.”
Just like the lie he told about not cleaning up Souta’s apartment, Serizawa is pretty sure Souta knows that’s a lie too. Like before, he leaves it alone.
The kaarage is soggy, but the beer is spectacular, especially with a smoke. Serizawa favours the last stick in his pack as he stares out the open window, a view that overlooks a nearby park. Souta comes to hand him a glass of water, to which he frowns at.
“Sober up.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Drink it for me then,” Souta says casually, walking back to the table inside to clear their mess.
Serizawa inhales the last of the cigarette, staring at the glass of water the entire while. He drinks it after, and Souta comes by to take it out of his hand easily. It goes into the dishwasher.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” he calls after the retreating body.
“Hm?”
“The hiring exam you missed,” Serizawa elaborates. He’d been thinking about it a lot, even if Souta was the one who missed the damn thing. “You could take another one in a different prefecture. There is still time. I’m sure if you mention your grandfather’s predicament, they could be lenient with the late application—”
“Serizawa,” there it is again, the serious voice. “We were going to teach in the same school, right?”
“Y-yeah,” Serizawa frowns. “Until you missed the exam.”
“So I’ll wait,” Souta continues. “Next year. I’ll make it.”
Serizawa hadn’t even thought of that. “But it’s a whole year,” he crushes the burnt out cigarette on a porcelain ashtray on the window counter.
“You can’t live a year without me?” Souta grins playfully—but this is not the point.
“What are you going to do until next year?” Serizawa demands. “You know that it gets more competitive every year, and unless you continue to get more experience, which you can’t without being in a program or getting hired—”
“I was thinking of going to Miyazaki,” Souta says. “I can get a temporary teaching certificate there.”
“...What?” Serizawa echoes. “Do you know how rare those are?”
“Yes,” Souta nods, infuriatingly calm. “And I’ve inquired, and I’ve gotten an interview.”
Serizawa is suddenly inundated with a whirl of emotions that seem vaguely familiar to the time when he realised Souta had not appeared in the exam hall. It starts with an urgency of fear and worry, and then a rush of anger. The anger wins out this time—he yanks Souta’s collar tight enough that the other has to swallow in reprieve.
“When were you going to tell me?” he hisses.
“I’m telling you now,” Souta says, eyebrows furrowing with a bit of confusion. “Why are you angry? I thought—I thought you’d be relieved. I’m not giving up teaching.”
“You should’ve told me before I—...” Serizawa glares, but then he clams his mouth shut.
“Before what?” Souta presses, and when there is no answer, he pries Serizawa’s fingers off his collar. “You just suggested that I should get hired in another prefecture, which is exactly what I’m going to do. It’s unfortunate Miyazaki’s exam dates have passed, otherwise I would’ve gone the usual route.”
Serizawa lets go. His hands feel empty, like how he struggled to write in the exam knowing Souta was not there. It’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous that no matter how hard he tries not to look—he ends up looking at—for—Souta’s face.
“I could’ve gone with you,” he utters.
That glass of water is certainly doing him no favours if he’s still drunk enough to let this pass his lips.
“Why the fuck was I so worried about you,” he mutters under his breath. “You have it all figured out.”
“Serizawa—”
Serizawa pushes him away, storming to the front door. “See you next year, I guess.”
Serizawa wakes up with a hangover. It’s massively pathetic. He wasn’t even drunk last night. Just tipsy. Woozy. One of those. He managed to get to his tiny, cramped apartment all right, so his faculties were fine. It must be age catching up with him if he feels this bad. It takes a while to remember what exactly he said last night to Souta. Mostly he feels defeated and resigned, although the anger still simmers.
He tries to distract himself by scrolling through his email to see if there is something else he can concentrate on. Inevitably, the first thing he sees is that congratulatory email that he’d passed the exam and was accepted to be hired in the pool of Tokyo public schools. When he’d received the email, he’d been partly surprised by it, given that he’d been so distracted during the test. And then elation, of course, because he’d worked his ass off for four years for this. And then, guilt, and worry, because Souta hadn’t—he hadn’t had the chance to even try.
Teaching in Tokyo is the dream. The facilities and funds are so much better here, and the kids really want to learn. In their third year, he and Souta had been posted to this school in Higashiyamato near the Tama lake. It was…it was everything Serizawa loved. A beautiful neighbourhood, playful kids, friendly staff, even some flirty parents. He and Souta had been a tag-team of intern teachers, picking up the slack anywhere they were needed. At the end of the posting, they went for a drive around the lake, Souta had a smile plastered on his face the entire time while the wind blew through his beautiful hair. He’d said that they’d could do this together for life. Serizawa understood the sentiment, even though he’d joked he’d probably hook up with a rich single mother and retire early if they’d stayed any longer.
God, Serizawa remembers that drive well and true. Much unlike the drive to Tohoku, where he’d been desperately keeping himself together because neither Suzume-chan nor Tamaki-san were in the right frame of mind to. So he had to, even if he couldn’t think beyond where the fuck is Souta, and so he sang mindless tunes to keep his hands steady.
And now that he’d found him—Souta is going off on his own again.
Somewhere out of reach.
What if, Serizawa thinks for a crazy second, what if he declines the Tokyo posting. He can try his luck like Souta did, to be in Miyazaki. And then he wonders; does he really need to do this?
Is Souta really that integral to his dream?
You can’t live a year without me?
“—zawa! Serizawa! I know you’re in there!”
Great, devils come when you think of them. Serizawa still has that pounding headache from drinking, but that banging noise on his door is making it ten times worse, so he has to open it up. He has his blanket covering his head when he pushes the lock down.
“Serizawa,” Souta greets, perfect hair in place. “....You look…rough.”
Serizawa nearly closes the door in his face.
“Not everyone is as pretty as you, princess,” Serizawa coughs out, voice scratchy. “What the fuck do you want.”
“I told you to drink more water,” Souta says, pushing his way in.
He has a plastic bag in hand, where he takes out a box of painkillers and a bottle of isotonic soda. Serizawa is marginally more alive after he downs both.
“What about food?”
Souta grumbles as he produces a couple of onigiris from the bag. As much there is to complain about Souta, the other really knows him well. Serizawa munches on the sweet rice peppered with salmon bits, feeling much less irritated than before.
“Well, what are you doing here, actually?” he manages to ask.
Souta is playing with his fringe, brushing it back multiple times. “I’m leaving for Miyazaki.”
“...And?”
“I thought…” Souta sighs. “You should come with me.”
Serizawa chokes, not expecting that at all. “Whmpf —?” He forces a swallow. “What?” he tries again.
“You’ve nothing to do until next April when the academic term starts, right?” Souta points out. “Come with me for a bit. I could use the company.” Before Serizawa can highlight the main reason why this would be difficult— “I’ll pay you.”
Serizawa squints. “...Like a prostitute?”
“Companion,” Souta snaps.
“Sugar daddy,” Serizawa throws back. “I’m flattered, but also a bit creeped out.”
“It’s not like that,” Souta huffs, like he knew Serizawa would take the piss. “I have to go to Miyazaki for the interview. But after that, while awaiting the outcome, I plan to go around Kyushu to check on doors. I don’t get the chance to travel that far often, so it’s a good time.”
“And what has that got to do with me?”
“You can drive,” Souta says. “And you have a car.”
“It’s broken.”
“You’ll pick it up today,” Souta counters. “Serizawa, please.”
Serizawa would really like a fucking apology but he figures Souta is trying to do that in his way.
“...Fine,” he sighs, as if he was going to say anything else. “You made me quit those jobs, and the current one I have pays like shit. I hope you make it worth it for me.”
Souta slips out his wallet, taking out a card. He puts it in Serizawa’s hand.
“Here. You can use that for as long as you’re with me.”
Serizawa glances at it. Fuck, it’s a credit card. Serizawa is shameless, but he’s not that shameless.
“Dude, this is—”
“I told you my family has funds set aside for Closer business,” Souta smiles. “You’re included in it now,” he says simply. “Let’s go pick up your car. We should leave right after if we want to make it to Kyoto before dark.”
“Wait—what—we’re going now?”
Generally, Serizawa loves to drive. That’s why he has a car, and he can’t let go of the said car, even if it leaves him barely anything to save month after month. But driving eighteen hours is an ordeal, especially when Souta can’t drive. At least Tamaki-san could in their seven hour journey.
God, why did he agree to this? It’s true he has nothing planned at the moment, but he really didn’t have to quit the shitty job that he just got just to follow Souta’s whims.
But the thing is, it’s the first time Souta asked.
He can’t say no.
“How did you get an interview at Miyazaki anyway?” he asks while they’re on the road.
It’s a lovely sunny day, but the convertible top stopped working after the car door was fixed, so they’re both in sunglasses.
“Suzume,” Souta answers. “I asked if her school had any openings and she asked her teacher.”
“Just like that?”
“Mm hm,” Souta nods. “It’s a small town with a close community. They prefer personal recommendations.”
Serizawa taps his finger on the steering wheel. It’s out of tune to the music they’re playing lightly in the background.
“...So, you’re going to Miyazaki for Suzume-chan? I didn’t know you liked girls that young.”
Souta makes a splutter so loud that Serizawa is surprised at.
“N-not for her,” Souta corrects, pursing his lips. “I mean,” he swallows. “I promised to visit once I’ve settled stuff in Tokyo. But it’s not what you’re thinking,” he sends a glare at Serizawa for the smirk sent his way. “We went through a lot together on our journey, and I’m sure she has many questions about being a Closer. So.”
“Oh, I see now,” Serizawa comments, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “If she’s interested in that Closer thing, you can train her while you’re there. Your first apprentice.”
“Like I said, I don’t want her to do it just because. It’s a life that requires a lot of sacrifice,” Souta says softly. “She has a lot to live for.”
Serizawa can’t fully understand the Closer thing, and maybe he never will. Still— “...I think you can trust her to make her own choice. Suzume-chan is…strong.”
“Don’t I know it,” Souta mutters under his breath. “When we were chasing after Daijin, I was mostly useless as a chair. She carried me all the way to Tokyo, even though she’d never left Miyazaki before in her life. She’s seventeen, but she’s fearless. It’s terrifying.”
“She must have gotten it from Tamaki-san,” Serizawa agrees. “If I was her parent, I'd have lost my entire mind.”
“Can you imagine?” Souta grins, looking out as they pass Sagami Bay, the water twinkling under the sun. “These are the kids we’ll be teaching. So terrifying.”
Unlike the marathon to Tohoku, Souta has planned several pit stops along the way to Miyazaki. The first place they stop at is Kyoto. They check in a nice little ryokan in the mountains. It’s much classier than anything Serizawa would book for himself—a full dinner spread and access to a natural hot spring. Serizawa doesn’t even think he’d been in a hot spring since his high school compulsory school trip to Osaka.
“So is this what you’ve been doing while I was cramming notes during lectures you missed?”
“It’s not that glamorous all the time,” Souta shoots back. “The doors open in abandoned places, places people rarely visit. That means amenities are also usually scarce around the area.”
The towel is folded on his head, and he's sunk into the spring deep enough that only his face is above the water.
“Even when I can relax in such nice places, I’m always alone,” Souta continues. “Before, my grandfather and I had a lot of fun when we travelled. Now…” he breathes out slowly, the surface of the water rippling under his exhale. “I didn’t realise how lonely it was, until Suzume came along with me. I was a chair, but I had the most fun in ages. I’d forgotten it wasn’t always doom and gloom.”
“...Did she ever sit on you?”
Souta jerks to attention, snapping open his eyes. “What?”
“When you were a chair,” Serizawa elaborates. “I mean, the chair was missing a leg, but it was functional—”
Souta smacks him on the shoulder. “What kind of things are you thinking—”
Serizawa snickers, fighting to still that smacking hand. “What kind of things are you thinking?” he counters.
Souta’s complexion is reddened, but that could be because they’d been in the hot spring for a good while now.
“If you must know, yes, she did sit on me,” Souta answers, crossing his arms as Serizawa laughs himself silly. “It’s not that funny. If you keep laughing, I’m going to sit on you,” he threatened.
“Fine, fine,” Serizawa settles, but a snicker or two slips out from under his palm. “How was it like, being a chair?”
“Weird,” Souta says immediately. “It felt like I was stuck somewhere and I couldn’t move my body. If I thought about moving, then me as the chair moved. Did that make sense?”
“Not at all,” Serizawa says. “But I guess that’s what being a chair is like.”
“I don’t want to think about it anymore,” Souta shudders. “I would definitely not recommend it.”
“Can’t be that bad if you managed to score a girl.”
Souta flicks water into his face, and they end up splashing each other until another ryokan guest arrives amidst their childish fight.
The place that Souta wanted to stop by in Kyoto is an abandoned dam. Serizawa drives them further up the mountains until they come to a point where there is a ‘danger, do not cross’ sign. They hike the rest of the way, until they come to an overgrown patch of greenery creeping over metal tunnels. It’s quiet, with only the birds chirping. Serizawa wanders behind as Souta forges a path onward.
“Crazy to think this entire place is abandoned,” he comments. “It’s like, the people just left it as it was.”
“It costs more to demolish,” Souta replies from ahead of him. “There are many places like this in Japan. Come on, I found the door.”
Given that Serizawa has been told this door is the gateway between worlds and has a life and death implication, he’s mildly disappointed when they come to the door of the dam station. It’s dusty as hell, and there is a vine that grows vertically over it. Before Souta can stop him, Serizawa shoves the door open—but of course, it only leads to an even dustier building.
“There’s nothing,” he says blankly.
“It hasn’t opened yet,” Souta sighs. “Which is good.”
“Okay. So we came here for nothing?”
“We came here in time,” Souta corrects. “I need to seal the door, so that it is closed forever. Give me a minute.”
Souta didn’t say he couldn’t stay and watch, so Serizawa does. He’s not sure what to expect. Maybe like a religious ritual, with incense burning or something. Instead, all Souta does is to linger his hand on the doorknob and close his eyes. Nothing happens for a full minute.
Then Serizawa feels a chill down his spine.
Suddenly he thinks of how the dam would’ve been like before. Before it was abandoned. There had to be plenty of people toiling in here, night and day, to make it work. A schedule that revolved around their lives. People saying ‘good morning’ and ‘good evening’ as they passed the doors. All of that forgotten, covered by the shrubs.
“O Divine Gods who dwell beneath this land,” Souta whispers, eyes still closed. “You have long protected us for generations. Your mountains and rivers that we have long called our own.”
Serizawa’s gaze follows the key around Souta’s neck, and it slots perfectly into the keyhole underneath the doorknob, like it’s always meant to be.
“I return them to you.”
The click from it is audible. Souta’s eyes open, eyelashes long as ever in its slow motion. He’s wearing a smile, but it feels sad, somehow.
Serizawa finds his voice back after a while. “...That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Souta confirms, blinking his eyes wide. “I guess you can’t see the glow, but it’s quite magical.”
“What glow?”
“When I lock the door, the key glows.”
“You’re bullshitting me,” Serizawa narrows his eyes. “I’m not gonna believe everything you tell me—the worm is enough.”
Souta rolls his eyes, flicking his hair over his shoulder. “See if I tell you anything more.”
“You ain’t telling me shit,” Serizawa counters, and they’re walking back now, since the deed is done. “What’s that spell thing you did?”
“It’s not a spell, it’s a prayer—”
The next town they go to is Hiroshima. It’s a sombre place to be in, knowing it’s history. The bombings, the typhoon. They get an inn near the coast, with a nice view of the sea. But Souta is preoccupied staring at the sky towards the north throughout dinner. Serizawa also looks in the same direction but all he sees is a dusty orange canvas.
“It’s the Namazu, isn’t it?” Serizawa says after putting two and two together.
“Huh?” Souta snaps out of it, like his staring hadn’t been obvious.
“Whatever you’re looking at.”
Souta looks at it again. “Not exactly,” he says. “It’s not the body, just some…tendrils. It should be okay if we wait until tomorrow morning.”
“Do you want to wait?” Serizawa tilts his head.
“It’s really late—”
“And?” Serizawa raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a bedtime?”
“No, but—”
“Then let’s go,” Serizawa concludes, gulping down the last of the miso soup. “Come on, it’s going to be a bitch to drive back when it’s really dark.”
“I was being considerate,” Souta sighs, following after him. “You haven’t had a break since we left Kyoto this morning.”
Serizawa is tired but he doubts he’ll sleep any better if Souta is tossing and turning in the futon beside him while worrying about some apocalyptic worm. They strap in and Serizawa turns them towards North, toward Akiota.
“What would you do if I wasn’t here?”
“Hitch hike or take a taxi if it was urgent,” Souta says, eyes affixed into the distance. “Run if it was dire.”
“I see why paying me to be your driver is more efficient,” Serizawa comments.
Souta’s lips upturn, but his attention is still very much placed on the thing Serizawa can’t see.
“Why don’t you learn how to drive?” Serizawa asks. “You could buy your own car.”
In Tokyo, Souta doesn’t need a car—the train system is good enough for their daily travel. Beyond Tokyo, however, as Serizawa learns that the other spends a good portion of the time trooping around, a car makes total sense. He’s actually surprised that Souta hasn’t learned how to drive years ago.
“...I don’t like cars.”
“You’re in one now.”
“My parents passed away in a car accident.”
Serizawa, to his credit, does not serve the car off the lane from the bomb that dropped. He glances at Souta, who is decidedly not really looking at him.
“My mother, she was the Closer,” Souta continues. “My father was her companion. He drove her around to doors that needed closing.”
“And they…the worm…?” Serizawa hedges his question inelegantly, but Souta understands what he means to ask.
“No,” Souta chuckles. “They didn’t die by the Namazu. A car accident,” he repeats. “Some drunkard crashed into them. I was at home with my grandfather at that time.”
“...I’m sorry for your loss,” Serizawa says quietly.
“Yeah,” Souta exhales.
Serizawa itches to turn on the music to drown out the awkward tension that had settled, but it seems rude, somehow. He steps on the accelerator when Souta grabs his arm and points at absolutely nothing in the sky.
“There it is!”
Blind faith is what it feels like, as Serizawa follows Souta’s direction into a dirt road that leads to a creek. They haven’t seen anybody for the past twenty minutes now. Eventually the dirt road ends, and Serizawa is forced to stop his car. They continue the journey on foot, down some crumbing rock nearing a small stream.
“A shinto temple,” Souta notes as they see the torii gates up a flight of worn out stone steps. “It’s getting bigger, it’s a good thing we came,” he hurries to the top.
Again, Serizawa expects to see something. He doesn’t. He only sees the grim look on Souta’s face and the ruins of a once populous temple overgrown by the foliage.
“Serizawa, stay here,” Souta states. “It’s dangerous to go any closer.”
Serizawa ignores this. “Like what you are doing?” he throws back.
“Just, just stay there!” Souta shouts before running towards the haiden.
The wind had picked up, gust messing up Serizawa’s hair. He stays put, because perhaps he should trust the expert at this…this thing. From the distance he spies Souta trying to close the sliding door of the entrance to the worship hall.
A whole minute later, Souta is still trying to close that door.
“Is it stuck?” he yells.
“It’s trying to get out!”
Serizawa tucks his hands into his pockets and makes his way closer. Nothing is out of the ordinary, except that the wind gets stronger.
“Serizawa, what are you—...I said stay back!”
“You look like you need some help,” Serizawa scoffs, putting his hands on the same door and pressing his weight behind it.
It feels stuck. More accurately, it feels like it’s not moving because something is forcing the door open.
Suddenly, like before, a chill runs down his spine.
Serizawa sees himself like a catfish, one that wiggles too much because a disaster is about to strike, and there’s nowhere to run.
“O Divine Gods who dwell beneath this land,” Souta starts, gritting his teeth while at it, “You have long protected us for generations—”
“Why won’t this damn door just fucking close?!” Serizawa swears under his breath.
“—Your mountains and rivers that we have long called our own—”
One more inch—one fucking more inch—
Serizawa yells, Souta yells, and they finally slam the stupid door close so hard that it rattles. Souta’s key is immediately jabbed into the keyhole on the frame of the wood.
“I return them to you!”
A click sounds once more.
The wind drops all at once.
It’s frightening, because Serizawa believes it. He believes what Souta is saying about the Namazu, and why he has to keep closing doors. He heaves, trying to catch his breath. Souta does the same with his butt on the ground and knees brought up to rest his arms.
“...I think we need to start lifting weights,” Serizawa says.
Souta laughs so hard he becomes breathless again.
From Hiroshima, it’s a straight ride to Miyazaki. It’ll take about eight, nine hours, and Souta is reluctant for him to drive that long, but Serizawa would rather not take any more detours if they can help it. If they take a detour, that means that the Namazu is squeezing its fat body out of somewhere again. Serizawa shudders.
“It’s unsettling,” Serizawa tries to put what he felt in words, but it’s lacking. “Can you tell how bad the earthquake would be, if the Namazu had gotten out?”
“Maybe a four on the register,” Souta says. “It wasn’t that big, not like the one in Tokyo that Suzume stopped.”
“How big was the one in Tokyo?”
“Big,” Souta answers, grimacing. “Very big. It would have obliterated the entire capital.”
“...Shit, that included me, didn’t it?” Serizawa frowns. “Why do you do this on your own?”
“Hm?”
“Closing the doors. Why don’t you bring somebody with you? Like your parents did?”
Souta looks much more relaxed today—probably because they saved Japan last night or something. Serizawa wonders how many times Souta has had the elation of this.
“It’s not easy to explain why I need to do all this to someone who doesn’t have the Sight,” Souta says.
“You explained it to me, it can’t be that hard.”
Souta glances over. “And would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Come with me,” Souta says, hair untangled even in the breeze as they ride down the coast of Oita.
Serizawa looks—and looks back to the road. “...I’m here, aren’t I?”
“I don’t mean this one time,” Souta looks down briefly, before his face turns out towards the sea they’re driving past. “The Namazu doesn’t care about what we want. There is sacrifice.”
“I’m not saying it wouldn’t be inconvenient as fuck,” Serizawa responds nonchalantly. “But it’s better than you running off to god knows where without telling anyone if you’re dead or not.”
“Serizawa, I’m serious.”
Serizawa scoffs. “And are you really asking? Or just throwing me a hypothetical?”
Souta purses his lips, and they don’t talk until Souta grabs his arm suddenly an hour later when they’re at Nobeoka.
“There’s an old zoo here. Abandoned about five years ago. We should take a look.”
“Where, exactly?”
“Near Hinokage.”
“Couldn’t you have said this earlier?” Serizawa groans, but he’s already signalling to turn right out of the highway.
It turns out that Souta has no idea where the fuck this old zoo is, and they spend the better part of the evening searching for it. Eventually when the clock ticks to eleven and the sky is starry, they come to a rusty gate that swings with a sign labelling it a zoo. Inside the compound, however, is a completely empty patch of land.
“They demolished it,” Souta says with awe, slumping down on the ground.
They have some snacks in the car, but it’s nothing substantial because they were supposed to be in Miyazaki right now. Serizawa opens the crisps bag and lights up the lone cigarette he’d found rolling in the glove box. The nicotine squashes the natural irritation that had came up at the end of this useless hunt.
“Sorry,” Souta says. “I didn’t know.”
“At least you can update your map or whatever,” Serizawa says with a shrug. “I’m not sharing the crisps with you, by the way.”
Souta grabs the melon bread, the only other thing that’s left. “We should find an inn for the night.”
“We’ll have to go back to Nobeoka,” Serizawa says.
While Souta had been obsessing over the postcode of the abandoned zoo, Serizawa did his due diligence to note where they could crash for the night.
“...Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Scared I’ll crash?” Serizawa shoots back before he realises it’s a dumb joke he should not crack with someone who lost his parents in a car accident.
But Souta takes no offence. “I trust your judgement.”
The inn in Nobeoka checks them in before midnight. Serizawa takes a minute shower and is brain dead on the bed, while Souta spends at least fifteen minutes in there washing his hair.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Souta asks before he flicks on the hairdryer.
The whirl is like a white noise. Serizawa doesn’t realise he’s staring until Souta nudges his foot, hair dried.
“I’m turning off the lights.”
Serizawa closes his eyes. He still hears the whirl, and sees the long, silky hair in his sleep.
They get to Miyazaki in an hour plus. Serizawa has never been to Miyazaki, but it’s pretty much what he expects out of a coastal town. Souta directs him to the inn that he’s booked for them, so they can check in and park the car first.
“Going to see Suzume-chan?” Serizawa asks.
“She should be on her way to school now,” Souta replies after glancing at his phone.
“Great, I’m going to take a nap. I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
Souta looks guilty, but he also looks surprised. “Y-you’re not coming?”
Serizawa frowns. “Why should I?”
“You know Suzume too,” Souta points out.
“Yeah, but I’m not the one she’s dying to see,” Serizawa snorts, ignoring the ‘she’s not dying to see me’ retort. “You don’t need me to hold your hand on your date, do you?”
Souta flushes—honestly, it’s the first time Serizawa has seen Souta blush, even if his expression is exasperated and annoyed. “It’s not a—”
“Just text me where you’re going for dinner,” Serizawa says, closing the door in his face. “I’ll find you.”
He’s not lying about needing a nap. There’s that non-stop driving, and then there’s that Namazu thing, and then there’s dealing with Souta. Serizawa just needs a few hours without Souta to clear his brain. He dozes off immediately once his face hits the pillow, and wakes to his phone vibrating itself off the table.
“Wha?” He sleepily answers it after groping for it.
“Serizawa, still asleep?” Souta’s voice is amused. “We’re having dinner at Tamaki-san’s. I’ve sent you the address. Come over when you’re awake.”
Serizawa takes a shower, inspects his bleach fading hair, and pulls on an outfit that isn’t as flashy as he normally wears. It feels oddly like he’s going to some relative’s house, even if he’d never stepped foot in the Iwato home before. When he gets there, the sun is halfway set, and the windows glow with the lights on the inside.
“Tomoya-san!” Suzume greets him cheerily when his hand is one centimetre away from the doorbell.
“Hey,” he smiles. It’s nice to see the girl is in better spirits than the seven hours they’d been stuck together. “Doin’ good?”
Suzume shows him in—it’s a very homely place, it reminds Serizawa of his own family home in the countryside. Tamaki-san comes to give him a hug in greeting, leading him to the dinner table where an array of dishes crowd. Souta gives him a smile when their eyes meet.
“I’m sorry this isn’t much, if you’d had told me you were coming—”
“It’s more than enough, Tamaki-san,” Serizawa laughs, knowing that Souta had probably sat through the same spiel earlier.
“—Oh, you boys could’ve stayed with us—”
“Souta wanted it to be a surprise for Suzume-chan,” Serizawa grins, totally noting the faint pink that arises on the girl’s cheeks. “What were you guys up to?”
“I skipped classes today,” Suzume says, smiling widely. “It was great.”
Tamaki’s expression turns dark, probably because she’d been unaware. Serizawa snickers under his breath as he watches a scolding unfold, but it’s not too harsh given that there are guests around.
“Setting a bad example for your students already,” Serizawa nudges Souta’s arm.
“It was not my idea,” Souta hisses back, and he does plaster an apologetic face when Tamaki’s glare flickers to him. “You try saying no to Suzume.”
Serizawa did drive seven hours to Tohoku because Suzume said so, so he’s not really one to say anything either.
Dinner is nice—they finish all the dishes, even though Souta protests at the very end that he’s going to explode if they do eat more. Suzume is up and chattering with the other near the television, going over some travel pamphlets. Tamaki gestures for Serizawa to follow her to the backyard, where she offers him a cigarette.
“You’re such a bad influence, you know,” Tamaki-san says, lighting up the sticks for them. “I normally don’t smoke this much.”
“I was thinking of quitting,” Serizawa says, although he does bring the stick to his mouth.
“Yeah, you should.”
Serizawa grins. “Any new adventures with Suzume-chan since the last time we met?”
Tamaki-san matches his smile. “Thankfully not. And you? Any seven hour road trips?”
“I’m on one with Souta right now,” Serizawa says. “We closed two doors. Third was a bust.”
“...You believe it, huh.”
Serizawa glances over. Tamaki-san looks wistful. “And you don’t?”
“I try,” she admits. “It feels better that there’s an explanation to almost losing Suzume-chan forever behind a door. But sometimes…” she trails off. “It’s too real, you know?”
Serizawa does know. “It’s different without the Sight. Souta and Suzume-chan believe in something they can see, while we have to believe in something that we can’t,” he says. “It takes more, from us.”
Tamaki-san takes a long drag from her smoke.
“I know Suzume-chan wants to follow Souta-san. I know what they do is important. But I just…I can’t …” she inhales. “I can’t let her go again. I just can’t,” she whispers.
“Tamaki-san…” Serizawa starts, afraid that she might cry again, and he’d never been one to be great with a woman’s tears. “Suzume-chan is strong. She can take care of herself.”
“But I’m not. Is it selfish that I want my daughter to be away from danger, and not to run to the face of it?”
“Of course not,” Serizawa replies. “...But…you and I both know when they want to do something…you can’t deny them their choice.”
“Is that why you came with Souta-san?”
“Kind of,” Serizawa flickers the ash of his cigarette. “Although, it’s not like Souta will listen to me. I’m not his guardian or anything.”
Tamaki-san peers at him. “...I have a feeling he would, though.”
“Would what?”
“Listen to you,” she says. “Souta-san told me you asked him a lot of questions, but did you ever let him ask you how it was like?”
Serizawa stills. Even if weeks have passed, the wound hasn’t closed. The fear, the worry, that someone you care about disappeared without a trace. It’s impossible to describe the kind of sleeplessness that comes with it.
“...We don’t have that kind of relationship.”
Tamaki-san sends him a look that says more than it needs to. She smokes the last of her cigarette, putting it out on an ashtray.
“Well, if you ever need love advice, you have my number.”
Serizawa whips his head up only to see her retreating back into the house.
They leave after ten, because Suzume has to attend school tomorrow and she will be apologising for skipping today. Serizawa drives them back with a short loop around the harbour. Even at night, the sea still glitters. Sights like these make Serizawa wonder why he’d been so stuck on staying in Tokyo.
“So what’s the plan?” Serizawa asks after they’ve both showered and were lounging on their separate beds.
“My interview is in three days, so we can visit a couple of places before that. If you’re up for it, of course,” Souta adds.
“No, I meant with Suzume-chan. Is she your apprentice now?”
Souta makes a face that isn’t really an answer. “...I told her to think about it carefully.”
“We both know she’s going to say yes,” Serizawa deadpans. “I saw the pamphlets you guys were looking at. Planning a road trip together already?”
Souta tilts his head, angling his face to that perfect forty-five degree angle (as if any other angle is not perfect too).
“Serizawa,” he begins. “She’s seventeen.”
“Yeah, so?”
“She has a crush on me, sure, but she’ll grow out of it soon enough,” he remarks. “You don’t have to be jealous.”
Serizawa splutters, pushing up his glasses. “No one said anything about being jealous!”
“Then you can stop insinuating a relationship that doesn’t exist,” Souta says tiredly. “For the record, I do not like girls that young. It’s predatory.”
Serizawa grumbles under his breath. “I was just joking.”
“It’s not funny,” Souta returns with a gaze. “Because I have someone else I care about.”
That, of all things, is what makes Serizawa speechless.
“...Right,” Serizawa mutters. His mouth feels stuck, and there is no joke he can think of to crack. “Sorry.”
“Serizawa,” Souta pauses, deliberate. “You care about me, don’t you?”
It’s whiplash, surely, that’s why Serizawa feels like someone punched him in the head. What the fuck is Souta trying to say?
“I’ve been trying to figure it out,” Souta continues, eyes still gleaming intently. “When you left my apartment that day, I had a guess. When you agreed to come with me to Miyazaki, I think I knew.”
Serizawa is still struggling to understand what Souta is implying. “I didn’t have a choice! Y-you dragged me to Miyazaki because you need a driver—”
“You always have a choice,” Souta says over him, calm. “Just like how I always have a choice to chase after the Namazu. This is the life I choose. It’s dangerous and lonely and I care about you, that’s why I don’t want to ask you to come with me.”
“Bull-fucking-shit!” Serizawa snarls, because he can understand one bit of that, at least. “If you really cared about me, you wouldn’t have left me to worry for fucking days whether you were dead!”
Souta’s eyes are wide as Serizawa finds it spilling out of his guts, like the Namazu squeezes itself out to shake the earth.
“It’s all great and dandy that you were actually dead in some other plane of existence, but did you think about how I felt when I couldn’t find you on the most important—or what I thought was the most important day of our lives? I could find nothing!” he emphasised angrily, hating that Tamaki-san is right, she’d known how the hurt ate people inside until it was unbearable, until she couldn’t—he couldn’t— ”Absolutely, fucking nothing! And do you know how people who are left behind feel?” he presses on, knowing the next sentence will hurt. “It feels like the abandoned places you fail to save.”
Souta’s lips part. “Serizawa, I—...”
“I need a fucking cigarette,” Serizawa ignores him.
He searches his bag furiously, coming up short. Souta grabs his wrist to make him stop.
“You said you were quitting."
“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Serizawa spits back. “Like you care—”
“I do care!” Souta yells in his face.
And then Souta slams their mouths together.
By all means, it’s not a great kiss. Serizawa’s teeth throbs with the impact, and Souta has pushed him so hard that they fall, Seriwaza's back to the ground with Souta looming over him. Serizawa feels his glasses are knocked askew, even if they’re miraculously still on his face. Souta’s curtain of hair cover their faces from the dim lighting, where their lips are pressed tightly together. One, two—and on the third second, Souta leans back, breaking their kiss.
“Serizawa,” Souta says, breath over his. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
Souta’s eyes are searching.
“Please.”
Pleading.
That day, when Serizawa had left Souta's apartment, he truly did not know what he wanted. But now there's really only one thing that would make up for it.
“...Ask me to come with you,” Serizawa murmurs.
Souta breaks into a chuckle, and it’s watery. His closed fist hits the floor beside them weakly.
“Why couldn’t you ask for anything else?” he asks, voice hoarse, but he does close his eyes in a soft exhale. “Serizawa…will you come with me?”
Serizawa gives them a better kiss.