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The best thing about tea is that no matter how many centuries pass, the leaves remain the same.
The process of brewing never changes. Selecting the right leaves, determining the ratio of tea to water, boiling the water, waiting for the perfect cup to sort itself out while reading a book or simply staring into space. Sure, the tools will change over time: when tea kettles became mainstream, it changed Scara’s life. But overall, it’s a comfortable routine. The same bitter taste touches his tongue every time.
No surprises, no gimmicks, just a simple, predictable start to the morning or evening.
In this case, it’s late evening. Scara sits on the one couch in his condo and watches the raindrops splatter against the window with flat disinterest. From the sixty-first floor, the city lights twinkle and blink beneath his feet. Buildings rise all around him, trying to scrape the sky, but all they remind him of are ant hills.
They will never reach him up here. No one will.
As far as he’s concerned, life is meant to be that way for him. The fleeting memories of the mortal companions he’s had make him grip his nearly-empty teacup tighter.
It would be an injustice to call them companions. Some were genuine friends, some he considered family, and one was particularly…
Well.
He takes the last sip and decides to call it a night. He washes and dries the cup, then gets ready for bed. Having caffeine at this hour tends to give him strange, vivid dreams, but he hardly cares at this point. No matter how long the dream feels in the moment, he’ll wake up eventually and return to his routine.
The dream will be forgotten and cast to the fog of countless memories too mundane to cling to.
~
Sunlight blinds him the second he opens his eyes and he rolls over, groaning. He brings a hand up to shield himself and dirt falls from his fingers.
“What…?” Scara mumbles, sitting up.
A breeze blows right through him and bites his skin. He immediately curls up for warmth.
Lush grass, partly cloudy sky, a mess of weeds every few steps. An achingly familiar but small house is on his right, and a matching fence frames the equally small yard. On both ends of the street, if it can even be called that, are a few more houses.
They aren’t as close together as normal houses ought to be. The architecture isn’t what he’d normally see, either. While made of brick and stone, the overall look isn’t as sleek and rectangular.
He hasn’t seen houses like these since the Meiji Era.
“The Meiji Era?” Scara muses, eyes narrowed at the house right next to him.
What kind of dream is this? He rarely dreams of the past like this anymore. In this amount of time, at least three things should have happened already. He should be drowning in fast-paced, barely coherent chaos by now. This is slow to the point of suspicion.
Wait.
He pushes to his feet— where did these sandals come from?— and stands before the door.
This sight is familiar.
Frozen in place, he remembers. This was their home. He lived here for sixty years, eleven months, and twenty-three days. This door, this yard, and the person inside have greeted him warmly so, so many times.
This is when the house was newer, before the first time they had to replace a window or revamped the garden. Their relationship had more recently morphed from lovers to lifelong partners.
He wants to run away, yet at the same time, he wants to sink into it. He hasn’t allowed himself to think too deeply about him for more months than he’d bothered to count, but he missed it. Still misses him, even now, decades later. He wants… he wants to stay in the yard— with the sun on his face, the wind in his hair, and this door in front of him— just a moment more.
It would be too good to be true if—
“Scara?” The door swings open with a creak. They’ll fix that in two weeks. “I thought I saw you out the window. What are you doing back so early?”
His throat closes and he chokes a bit, bottom lip trembling and shameless tears welling in his eyes.
It’s Heizou, the love of his life.
He wears the same haori that Scara shoves in a box and stuffs in the closet when he moves into a new place. He wears the same rope in his hair. His gorgeous eyes are wide in surprise, his head tilted to the side in that same curious look. His voice, beautiful and soothing and unforgettable, reminds him of how full of life he used to be.
Scara shatters on the doorstep.
“O-oh, wow,” Heizou wheezes as Scara crushes him in his arms. He pats Scara’s back before returning the hug as well as his numb arms can. “You missed me so much you turned the carriage around?”
“What are you talking about?” comes Scara’s watery whisper.
“Your trip.” Heizou tries to pull back enough to breathe. “To see Nahida. You left… yesterday morning.”
Did he? He doesn’t care. Heizou is here, safe, and most importantly, alive. If he’s talking about the trip he begrudgingly took to help Nahida with something, whichever Scara he saw leave won’t be back for a while.
“Honey.” Heizou coughs, aggressively tapping his shoulder. “Please—!”
“I’m sorry.” Scara loosens his hold but doesn’t budge, burying his face in Heizou’s neck as Heizou takes a deep breath in. “I did miss you,” he admits out loud for the first time.
“Aww,” Heizou coos, rubbing his back in tender circles. “Say, your clothes seem different. Were you robbed? Because you normally wouldn’t be caught dead in your underwear. Then again, I’ve never seen these clothes before…”
Ah. Scara’s wearing the same pyjamas he went to sleep in: a plain t-shirt and shorts.
“Come inside, you must be freezing.” Heizou backs into the house and reaches around Scara to close the door. He laughs when Scara refuses to let go. “Come on, no need to be ashamed. Just tell me who it was and we’ll get your stuff back, I promise. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you and get away with it.”
Scara only sobs in response.
“Hey,” Heizou murmurs, carefully leading him to sit on the couch together, “it’s okay. I’m here.”
How is he here? It’s been nearly a century since he breathed his last. He feels realer than he should, looks realer than he should. This has to be more than a dream.
It’s a miracle.
“Heizou.” Scara’s voice cracks when his tears finally run dry.
“Yes?” Heizou keeps stroking his hair, massaging his scalp just the way he likes it.
“I didn’t mean to cry on you.”
“I know.” Heizou squeezes him, gentle. “They must’ve done a number on you for you to react like this. Did they hurt you?”
When Heizou tries to examine him, he only holds him tighter. “No. I’m not hurt. Just… shocked.”
“I’m glad you got away.” Heizou shifts to kiss his cheek and he melts. “I’m glad you got back safe.”
“I’ll have to go at some point,” Scara rasps, full of regret because he does have to go. He doesn’t want to, he never would, but whatever situation this is has to be as ephemeral as a flickering flame. The Meiji Era is in the past, Heizou is in the past, true happiness is in the past.
This isn’t truly real. It can’t be.
“I know you will.” Heizou smiles and it makes him want to break down all over again. “You can’t keep Nahida waiting forever, and your luggage needs to be recovered. Although,” he trails off for a moment and frowns, “you’re in no shape to go anywhere. I’m not letting you go out there for revenge until you’re okay again.”
Does Heizou have that kind of power here? He really won’t let him leave?
“You won’t?” The shaky words betray his longing.
“Nope,” Heizou says. “I’ll take good care of you in the meantime. Then you can find the robbers, beat them up, and keep going on your way. I, of all people, know how long it takes law enforcement to do their investigations. You don’t have that kind of time. I’d help if I didn’t have to do that job interview in a few days and look after the house.”
“I know.” Scara rests his head on Heizou’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and closing his eyes. “I know you would.”
~
The next morning passes like a wonderful dream. Now Scara’s sure that something strange is going on because he isn’t actually dreaming anymore, or he never was in the first place.
Waking up with Heizou curled up at his back, warm and cuddling him close, feels surreal. He’s gotten so used to being alone in bed. Hearing Heizou mumble a simple “Morning, honey” nearly does him in.
“Do you feel any better today?” Heizou sits up, rubbing his eyes.
Scara looks over his shoulder at him and pauses. Heizou’s watching him with that soft, kind, loving gaze and the sunlight, streaming in through the translucent curtains, hits him just so. Does Heizou not know what he does to what’s left of his poor heart?
“I’m fine.” Scara buries half his face into the pillow again.
“You still look shaken up.” Heizou’s hand rests on his arm and rubs it gently. “But you also look better than you did yesterday, so I’ll take it.”
“And you seem more awake than usual,” Scara points out. “Since when are you a morning person?”
“Since my husband came home robbed of his clothes and possessions,” Heizou states. “I did promise to step up when you need me, didn’t I? If you’re not up to making breakfast, I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”
“You made dinner last night. It’s only fair that I make breakfast.” Cooking comes naturally to him anyway. No amount of overwhelming nostalgia or other emotions can stop him from cracking a few eggs and making rice.
“No need to act tough for me, dear. I always know when something’s the matter.” Heizou bends down so he’s in Scara’s field of vision, smiling wide. “How about we make breakfast together? We haven’t done that in at least a week. That’ll help cheer you up.”
Scara thinks that “at least a week” is a criminally large understatement by his standards. By Heizou’s, though… It really has only been about a week for him. His eagerness shines through his smile and bright eyes.
Between his weakness for Heizou and the knowledge that he may never get this chance again, Scara never had a choice.
“Alright,” he relents with a great, heaving sigh, “we can cook together.”
The kisses Heizou peppers all over his face are well worth it.
Hours later, when the sun is high in the sky, they sit on the porch. “The porch” being their literal front doorway: the door is wide open, their legs drape down the single step, and their feet rest on the grass. Heizou fiddles with the temari ball in his lap, picking at the strings with his nails as he leans against Scara, idly humming a tune.
Scara would know that temari ball anywhere. He’d know it blind, in the dark, and in a room with hundreds of similar ones.
“Having fun with your birthday gift?” Scara says, not bothering to hide the hint of pride.
“Yeah. Honestly, it was supposed to be a surprise for when you got back, but I don’t see why I can’t unravel it now.”
“You don’t?” Scara raises an eyebrow. “Then why is it still in one piece?”
Heizou scoffs. “I see you’re back to normal. You bounce back fast.”
“You’re dodging the question. Could it be…” Scara makes a show of narrowing his eyes at him, glancing at the ball, and smirking. “You’re stalling?”
“What?!” Heizou jerks back, terribly offended that he would even suggest such a thing. “I’m not stalling. What could I possibly be stalling for?”
“Your job interview. Don’t think I forgot.”
“That’s in two days. You know I’m good at improvising.”
“Should you improvise? This isn’t that tiny detective agency. They could be tough customers.”
Heizou groans. “That’s what you told me last time you brought this up.”
“And you still haven’t thought to prepare? The Tenryou Commission doesn’t take just anybody.”
“I’m not just anybody.”
“You’ll seem like you are if you’re obviously improvising.”
Heizou clasps his hands on top of the ball and straightens his back. “If you’re so set on me preparing, why don’t you help?”
There’s an idea. “Alright, I will.” Scara schools his face into a serious expression. “Why do you want this job?”
“If I want to be the best detective I can, your establishment is the place to do it.”
“How will you do that?”
“By solving every case you throw at me.”
Scara pauses, considering his answers. “Decent.”
Heizou laughs. “See? I told you I’ll be fine. I know better than to tell them my true goals. They’ll think I’m nuts and refuse to hire me.”
“Not just anyone can rid the world of sin by being an infamous detective.”
“You mean famous detective.”
He wraps an arm around Heizou’s waist, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure you can do it, as crazy as it sounds.”
“Really?” Heizou beams. “You always said it’s almost impossible.”
“Almost,” Scara repeats. “You’re the only person who’s both stubborn and smart enough to pull it off. Though doing it on a global scale could take longer than your entire lifetime.”
“All I’m hearing are heartfelt compliments,” Heizou says. He kisses Scara’s cheek. “By the time you get back, I’ll be their top detective.”
“After solving… what, one case?” Scara teases.
Heizou playfully smacks his arm. “Add a zero to the end and you’ll be right.”
As he begins to ramble about what he plans to do once he most certainly gets the job, Scara listens to every word.
He missed joking around with Heizou. It sparks a warmth in his heart he’d long thought extinguished. Temporary as this is, Scara treasures it all the more. His heart is weightless in his chest for the first time in years.
And he mentally checks off all the things Heizou says he’ll do that he actually does do. Yes, he gets the job. Yes, he diligently patrols for exactly three days before getting bored and chasing evidence trails. Yes, he solves a case from a trial he attended for fun.
He’s going to tell Scara all about it the moment he returns, with the biggest and proudest smile.
~
Good things never last long, do they?
On the third evening, minutes after the sky begins turning pink, an ominous feeling crawls through Scara’s body. Not like something bad is about to happen, instead it’s a drastic change.
They’ve just finished washing and drying the dishes. Heizou’s already hunting the shelf for a book to read while they cuddle on the couch, but Scara knows he won’t be able to sit still until he figures it out.
“I’m stepping outside for a second,” he announces, slipping on the sandals he wore when he first arrived.
“Oh?” Heizou glances at him, curious. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I heard something. I’m checking it out.” Scara heads out the door without looking back.
What would be the best course of action? The obvious option is to walk a lap around the house. When he reaches the side, he finds a strange, dark hole in the air no taller than the fence.
His heart drops. His hands shake. His breath comes in short gasps.
But I just got here, he desperately thinks, do I have to leave so soon?
That’s the last thing he wants, but what will happen if he lets this portal sit here? Could more things and people slip through? Would it move somewhere more obvious? Would he have to hide it?
Would Heizou find out?
The thought of taking Heizou with him flashes in his mind and fades just as quickly. No, he can’t do that. He would never take Heizou away from where he’s supposed to be.
He’s going to be the best detective the world has ever seen, and he’s going to have Scara, the Scara of the past, by his side through life’s twists and turns.
He may not be able to step into the portal anyway. It could be specifically crafted for Scara to pass through.
“Honey?” Heizou calls, and Scara whips around. His head sticks out from the front doorway. “Everything alright?”
“I’m fine.” Scara approaches him as calmly as he can. “It was the wind.”
Heizou raises an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”
Scara frowns, avoiding his eyes.
“If something’s wrong, you can tell me, you know.” Heizou steps onto the grass to properly face him. “What’s bothering you?”
He opens his mouth to respond, wanting so badly to tell him nothing’s wrong and he’ll never leave his side, but he falls short. “I’m going to catch the robbers,” he blurts.
Heizou blinks once. Twice. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“But it’s getting dark. You’ll get sick if you’re running around in those clothes.”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I won’t be outside the whole time and their guard will be down because it’s dark.”
Heizou crosses his arms, eyes narrowed. “Isn’t it normally the opposite?”
“They reeked of alcohol. They’re the type to drink themselves under the table the moment the taverns open.”
After watching him intently, Heizou sighs. “That’s a fair assumption and ideally, you should catch them at their most vulnerable. You’ve eaten and drank water too. But do you know where to start?”
“I have an idea. Taverns are one the easiest buildings to find.” Scara steps closer and cups Heizou’s cheeks. “I should go before it gets too dark.”
Heizou reluctantly nods, managing a smile. “Kick their butts for me, okay? And let me know when you reach Nahida’s.”
“I will. Don’t mess up your interview tomorrow.” Scara pulls him in for a parting kiss, the last of many they shared. He relishes the taste of Heizou, his slightly chapped lips, the warmth and intimacy he hasn’t experienced in far too long.
They only pull away once their lungs burn, and Heizou grabs his wrists before he can move. “Be safe,” Heizou whispers against his lips. “I’ll miss you.”
Scara rests his forehead on Heizou’s, closing his eyes. “I love you, Heizou.”
Heizou chuckles. “I love you too. Now hurry before it’s pitch dark. I don’t want my first case to be yours.”
“It won’t be.” Scara takes a deep breath before letting Heizou go. A small, genuine smile graces his face. “You should head inside before bugs start crawling in.”
Heizou curses, jumping through the threshold and closing the door halfway. “You’re right. Don’t forget that letter!” He shuts the door.
Scara sees Heizou walk to the living area, then double back to close the curtains with one last wave. He stares at the window, wishing he could run inside, sit with Heizou on the couch, and make the portal disappear for good.
But his presence would cause trouble eventually. Return is inevitable.
With slow, dragging steps, he walks to the portal. He’d expect such a distortion to hum or make any noise at all, but it silently waits for him to enter. He takes one last look at the house, their beloved home for decades, and presses a hand against the wall.
“I’m sorry, Heizou,” he murmurs with a heart soaked in regret. “I’ll always love you.”
When he finally brings himself to peel away from it, he enters the portal.
His bare feet hit the carpet and when he turns, the portal snaps closed behind him. A horribly empty feeling settles in his chest.
He’s back in his room and the sun must have risen hours ago.
Sighing, he decides to go out for a walk to clear his mind, maybe grab a fresh package of the strongest, blackest tea in the area. Sitting on his bed all day will make him want to sink into it and never leave. He’ll never get anything done then.
As he changes into his going-out clothes, he makes a mental note of the howling wind outside. It always sounds worse when he’s this high up, like it’ll sweep him right out of the building. He needs to put on a coat before he leaves.
When he opens the door, he stops.
Looks down.
Is this a joke?
Right in front of him, a temari ball sits on the floor with a note taped to it.
Scara snatches the ball up and shuts the door. It’s in Nahida’s handwriting, loopy and unhurried. After he reads the note, the ball nearly falls out of his hands.
I’ve found someone you might like to meet. This ball should be a good hint!