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Part 1 - ChiChi & WaWa
:NOW, ON TOUR:
“That was some interview.” The speaker says in lieu of ‘hello’ to the person on the other end of the online call, an old friend from yesteryear. He keeps his voice low, though it’s unlikely he’ll be overheard in the dimly lit hotel room, as he’s currently alone in it and the wireless earbuds he wears will keep the other man’s words in his ears only. The little window in the corner of the laptop screen shows him what his friend sees; a grizzled visage with shaved white hair though the light on behind him leaves his face partially in shadow. He feels like a furtive figure in the midst of the clandestine.
“Yeah.” The other man, who is better lit in a better hotel, takes a deep drag off his cigarette, tilting his greasy head of salt and pepper hair upwards after a moment so he can launch the cloud away from the camera, as if the scent of his nicotine brand could somehow pass through and bother the one who’d called. He looked stressed out and in need of something stronger than a cigarette. A tumbler filled with golden liquid is lifted into view and drained. Knowing him for this long, it’s likely not his first of the day; it’s later where he is.
The silence lingers between the men long enough for Takeomi Akashi to finish the nearly done stick and light another. “I should’ve seen it coming, Benkei,” Takeomi addresses Keizo Arashi like the old days, “That damned host! I should’ve warned him.”
“Waka saw it.”
:FLASHBACK:
The boys smiled for the camera and nobody cared that teeth were missing, least of all the boys. They were six and seven, and silly boys with silly voices and silly imaginations and silly nicknames for one another.
They needed no other names. Everyone knew those names!
They were ChiChi and WaWa!
The younger, dark haired sweetie, ChiChi, was the silliest of the duo, the one who’d come up with the silliest of ideas and had the craziest imagination. WaWa, the elder, paler, sombre, sober one would play the straight man for a minute, but ultimately cave with a delighted grin aimed at the younger boy who’d made the wild suggestions in the first place.
Every movie they’d starred in started the same way.
There were more than a dozen.
:NOW, ON TOUR:
Benkei calls Takeomi, or the other calls him, any time one of their friends does something worth reporting on that isn’t related to their current placements on the music charts. Times like this.
The interview had started out like any other on a press junket, the talk show host and guest discussing his new album, the upcoming film, and a scene shown from it which shows off Shinichiro Sano’s utter lack of range as an actor. He is still a dark haired sweetie in his thirties, but Benkei learned through Takeomi what kind of road he’d travelled to get that far, a road Wakasa Imaushi has steadfastly avoided. In their younger days, he’d been sure it’d be the other way around, but no. Waka kept his nose clean and is still clean.
Neither man liked to be reminded of their beginnings, though it was off the charts success at the time, the boys catching the hearts of viewers and their parents at just the right time in history to make history. The ChiChi & WaWa series of films broke every sales record. They were churned out and dropped on VHS and DVD at a pace that couldn’t be maintained if people wanted quality, but quality had never been what the producers wanted out of them. They just wanted to make money off the cute faces until they outgrew their audience, to be replaced by new young cuties barely old enough to listen to directors and parrot lines.
Few people can state their careers ended by age twelve, but theirs did. For Shinichiro, it was good timing. The intense production schedule, coupled with his mother’s ill health, left him frazzled and unable to concentrate on his work in the last couple films, fully evident in the films themselves, should anyone older than nine feel like watching one. Wakasa’s dainty, youthful appearance would have let him work in children’s films for several more years, but by then he’d had enough of childishness. Puberty hit him everywhere it hurt, mostly mentally; a wild, rebellious streak took him over and rewrote his inner script and, by his mid teens, it was hard to recognize him anymore. His innocent appearance had been replaced with stark, black eyeliner, pale makeup, piercings and chains, and his light eyes looked so haunted under his dyed black hair, grown out to swoop over his features in hopes of hiding them, hoping to hide what he thought or felt from the world at large.
Benkei and Takeomi met the boys back when they were still doing movies, the older ones taking the young starlets under wing, having been through it themselves, though not to the same extent that ChiChi and WaWa experienced. When the boys split, it wasn’t so much Benkei and Takeomi picking sides so much as each one wanting to be a shoulder ready to lean on, to cry on when life got tough for them. Tougher.
Twenty years later, Benkei is still waiting to be leaned on.
Waka ditched the dye job twelve years ago when he started their band Ear Candy , though nothing he sings sounds sweet. He learned guitar by ear and has a gorgeous voice he’s willing to wreck by screaming his lyrics over the basslines Benkei lays down for him; their target audience hears the pain in it because they likewise revel in it. The band’s rise to fame was like a phoenix for Waka, a second coming, a second chance. Reborn and risen from the ashes of his youth, Ashes was their first major album. Three more followed and the tour they’re on now is promoting the next one, called Turning Point . It’s already topping charts and it’s possibly their best ever.
The show tonight marks the end of their tour and both of them are more than ready for the well deserved break.
If Waka’s in the mood to play it.
They haven’t spoken much since watching the interview.
Benkei has nothing against Shinichiro and is glad Takeomi is in his corner because it looks like a dark one best handled with company in it. Waka has never explained what went on between them for why their close friendship ended when it did. The two haven’t spoken to each other since, no matter how many times Benkei and Takeomi have tried to encourage it.
They stopped trying after a while.
Benkei mulls this over as he spreads jelly on his toast, part of a late room service breakfast gone cold because of that damned interview and his chat with Takeomi after.
Waka had been in a better mood when he woke up, humming even. He was running back and forth from Benkei’s room to his via the connecting door in search of pens, paper and guitar picks because he was desperate to nail the tune down before he lost it. While that was happening, Benkei scrolled through his social media to see what he’d missed overnight. It wasn’t uncommon for him to see Shin’s name trending, but the short clips of the interview he was finding made him curious to look up the whole thing, a segment from a late night talk show featuring a host known for tough questions and surprise attacks. Hardly the usual for late show entertainment which tended toward fluff and badly written jokes.
Benkei hooked his laptop up to the television for a bigger picture and, loud as the TV was, he still couldn’t miss the sharp intake of breath from Waka as soon as Shin was introduced and walked onto the set. Benkei tried to recall the last time Waka would have seen a picture of him anywhere. He has the name blocked on every social media app he uses and isn’t one to put eyes on a tabloid while shopping for groceries, nor does he pick or make playlists that include Shin’s pop/country blended tunes in the mix.
Waka seems to show no interest in how Shin is faring at all.
Maybe drifting apart was inevitable. They aren’t the same people anymore.
But, neither are Benkei and Takeomi and they make it work. They care too much about each other to let their years of friendship fade. Their relationship changed as they did and they never had much in common beyond their career paths when it came to interests in the first place, let alone what they were into now. Benkei likes sitting down to watch Formula 1 races and pretend he’s driving in one, whereas Takeomi is more likely to be driving a golf cart across a well maintained, expensive course that lets him drink while he plays. Benkei goes to church when he has the chance and prays he’ll find the nerve to propose to his girlfriend once the tour is over. Takeomi would be willing to bed the devil for a one night stand and make him do the walk of shame the next morning.
They make it work.
Benkei turns his attention to the door connecting his room to Waka’s, closed and locked from the other side. The guitarist doesn’t want to be disturbed.
The guitarist is disturbed enough as it is, Benkei figures.
Seriously. What the fuck happened back then?
The TV is still on, on mute, but Benkei unmutes it and moves from the little table back to the bed to recline against the headboard with a plate of cold eggs and bacon. He has his phone nearby for scrolling what he’s really interested in, but flips the TV to the schedule channel so he can scan the available stations anyway, aiming for something to play in the background. He sits up when he sees it.
Holy shit. Seriously?
Playing right now on a kids’ channel: ChiChi and WaWa vs Brainiac!
Benkei slams his hand into the wall behind him, likely startling the man on the other side of it. The walls are thin between suites and Benkei has been overhearing his efforts to bring his new song to life from time to time. “Waka! Channel 111!” He hears the locking mechanism click on the connecting door and the door slides sideways to reveal a scowling Waka who storms through from the other side, gripping his guitar tight enough to risk breaking the neck.
“The fuck was that for?” He snaps, clearly irritated by the interruption.
“The Brainiac movie is on!” Benkei points to the television, but Waka has already noticed what’s playing.
The movie is nearing the climax where the Brainiac, a cyber-enhanced alien creature, has cornered ChiChi and WaWa in his secret base (which the boys found easily because the plot needed them to). Benkei recalls it being the itchiest costume he’d ever worn on set and he also recalls forgetting some of his monologue lines about taking over the world with the cockamamie weapon he’d designed. (Literally. The film was made on a shoestring budget and Benkei wound up scouring the set for any worthless junk he could pile up and spray paint green. He then glued a spare flashlight to it so he could ‘blast’ the clever boys with ‘space rays’.) The camera rolled over his line flubs because nobody cared enough to correct him. Time was money and money was going to be made, no matter how ludicrous the plot was. It didn’t have to make sense in order to make money.
Benkei slides over on the bed so Waka can perch on the edge of it, still holding his guitar, still staring at a scene set in the future, but filmed so far back in time, it’s likely he barely remembers being a part of it.
“So young,” Waka whispers after an eternity. “God, we were so young.”
They all were, then. Brainiac was filmed early in the boys’ careers, ages six and seven, and it was utterly laughable that boys that age could possibly save a marshmallow for later, let alone the world, but that was the story written and that was the story told and that was the story that made untold millions for the movie studio producing it.
The Brainiac screams his dismay through the television speakers as the weird time vortex pulls and warps his body using some of the most cutting-edge, yet most god-awful computer generated imaging available at the time of editing. The kids on screen cheer and hug each other as Benkei vanishes, and then slap the silver badges on their upper arms seconds before the secret base explodes, sending themselves back in time to where and when they came from.
Benkei doesn’t miss the wistful smirk on Waka’s face as he’s pulled into the story by the power of nostalgia, nor the maudlin set to his features once the credits roll; the boys got equal billing.
The credits include a blooper reel for some reason. Considering the number of mistakes and continuity errors they left in the movie, it’s a bit of a mystery why they bothered compiling a reel of what they didn’t include in the final cut, but Benkei laughs when he sees himself trip over set pieces because the costume design left him essentially blind. They gave him an earpiece to wear under the shitty mask so they could tell him when to turn left or right in order to address who was in front of him, but his ‘eyes’ were always a little off kilter, regardless.
Several clips were of the boys just dissolving into giggles instead of repeating their lines. The best, in Benkei’s personal opinion, is in a scene where Shin collapses on the set, starfish style, and Waka drops onto him like a puppet whose marionette cut the strings, also laughing his ass off.
“What happened, Waka?”
Benkei’s voice wobbles as he asks the question and he feels tears prickle his eyes, tears he hadn’t expected to shed. They gather like wet sheep on a rainy day anyway, then are driven down his cheeks by a dog named Gravity.
Waka is silent as he rises from the bed and he keeps his face averted as he moves toward the connecting doorway. He never got much taller than he was by age ten, but he seems to shrink even more in front of Benkei’s eyes, regressing back to his childhood, his younger self, the sweet and innocent boy he’d been before life chewed him up and spit him out.
He stops between the rooms and turns to face Benkei with eyes glistening.
“I made the mistake of telling him I was in love with him, Kei. He laughed at me.”
Waka crosses the threshold, closes the door, and locks it from his side.
Part 2 - Shinichiro & Wakasa
:NOW, ELSEWHERE:
Takeomi pours himself another cup of coffee and brings it back to the desk and his laptop. And his bottle of emergency bourbon. He drops a couple caps’ worth into his mug to fortify it, drinks from it, then brings the computer back to life, too. He taps in his passcode and clicks through the folder trees until he finds the one he’d stored some old pictures in, pulled off a thumb drive for Shin’s birthday last year. He didn’t wind up going through with the slideshow in the end because the party took a downturn after the first hour, soured by Shin’s propensity for drinking too much and taking whatever little ‘supplements’ his bandmates found for him to try.
Nothing good for him, that was the truth of it.
That goddamned interview. Takeomi’s mind keeps coming back to it, keeps coming back to the fact that he agreed to let Shin do it, even knowing what kind of network, show, and host he’d be in front of.
The host’s question triggered a part of Shinichiro that Takeomi hadn’t seen in a while and, while the host might have thought he was ready for his reaction, Takeomi was the only one who saw the broken child behind the grown man’s eyes as he left the set.
WaWa.
Takeomi should’ve been ready for the possibility that questions would be raised, especially since the duo were were nearing the anniversary of the last film, or the first film, or some fucking thing, and Takeomi should’ve been thinking straight instead of drinking straight out of a fucking bottle.
ChiChi and WaWa had been so big, so influential for a whole generation of kids, and their parting had been abrupt and nonsensical. Shin went home and spent the next month at the hospice with his mother and siblings for the last of her days and Benkei would text from time to time to let Takeomi know what Waka was doing to himself in the meantime. Takeomi kept it to himself because Shin was grieving. He saw little reason to mention it, after.
Takeomi starts the slideshow he’d created several months ago, having forgotten the pictures he chose for it; files are numbered and dated only, so he watches Shin’s young years go by, three seconds per image, with no idea what he’ll see next.
Shin in his first little tux on the red carpet before an awards show. He and Wakasa are linked arm in arm, matching in both wardrobe and exuberance at getting the invitation (though not the prize).
A photo from his sixth birthday party, a dinosaur theme, which includes a blurry, screaming Waka in the background of the image because they’d hired actors to wear dino costumes and run around chasing the guests.
The pool party with a special guest DJ and fireworks, both boys starstruck and soaked from a water fight they’d had earlier.
Shin in front of the biggest hamburger known to humankind, with no chance of biting through it. Waka is in this image, too, laughing his head off as Shin’s eyes bulge out of his head at the sight of the feast.
Takeomi pauses the slideshow as the next image shimmers into position. He needs to pee. Probably best I didn’t get the chance to run the slideshow at the party, he admits to himself over his stream. Might’ve gotten my head knocked off.
Returning to the main room, he discovers a tired Shinichiro is sitting on the chair he’d been using, hunched over and squinting at the screen.
“Sure you don’t want to sleep more?”
The pop star shakes his head. The interview aired close to midnight, but the taping had happened around suppertime and Takeomi refused to let him out of his sight for a second afterwards, insisting that he accompany the older man back to the hotel and stay in his room rather than return to his own, in case photographers would case Shin’s room again. It wound up being a late night with both of them dwelling, regretting, and drinking.
“I’m fine. What’s this?” Shin is staring at the still image on screen.
Now Takeomi is really glad he didn’t run the slideshow on Shin’s birthday. He’s remembered. Oh shit. That was the day. That was the goddamn day.
On the day, the photographer caught a topless Shin at a great angle: posed and grinning wide as he showed off the months of work with the stunt guys and the gym rats, the ones who helped him muscle up for the next film. The new script had ChiChi and WaWa gaining superpowers for a day, to become Flyboy & ThunderWonder, to save the world as per every film.
The dumb superhero story never got off the ground.
That was the day their friendship ended.
:NOW, ON TOUR:
Benkei isn’t at the point where he’s got a glass to the wall, but Waka’s half of their connected suite has been quiet for a while, more than long enough to build up some worry about what might be going on over there. Knocks have been ignored and attempts to get him to answer his phone or text back have gone unanswered. Fuck it. Benkei’s pacing takes him past the hotel phone a second later and he lifts the receiver. He stabs the button for the front desk.
“Yes, hi. Arashi in suite 1715A. I’m requesting a health check on my companion in the other half? He’s not answering and he’s had.. Yes.. Okay, thank you.”
He’s had.. He’s had moments Benkei doesn’t want to think about right now. Low points. But, what happened today could be the start of another one. Maybe he should’ve done this sooner.
They’re due on stage in a few hours.
You’d better be okay in there, you fucker. Don’t you dare …
A tap on his room door pulls him toward it and he joins the person on the other side, the one who’ll open the other room for him.
“Waka! I’m coming in, okay? Talk to me. Waka?” He pushes the door open onto a dim room, all curtains drawn, bathroom door closed. Am I gonna have to break that down? “Waka?” The employee has a key ready for him as he checks if the other door is locked. It isn’t.
Benkei sags with relief as he opens it. Waka is sitting naked on a towel he placed on the floor tiles, his phone ignored nearby. He’s hugging his legs with no evidence that he’s done anything awful to himself, save shower with what passed for hotel soap.
No new evidence, at least. The old scars are visible on his bare thighs, his calves, on his arms, the places where a thin little blade once -
“Hey,” Benkei whispers the word and gestures for the hotel employee to leave, making sure his bulk completely hides the view into the little room. Nobody else should see him like this. Waka’s face is streaked with tears. His hands shake as he tries to clear them away, maybe embarrassed to be caught shedding them. Benkei crouches down and pulls him into an embrace, the kind he should’ve given him years ago. “Talk to me, Waka. What happened earlier, with the movie? Why was that the first time you ever told me that, huh?”
Waka’s sniffles contain half a laugh, but not the funny kind. “Might be because the worst moment of my life isn’t a great conversation starter?” Benkei is glad when he doesn’t pull away, leaning into the offered hug, even. “The confession was only the start of it, Kei. It’s what I did after.”
Can’t be that bad, Benkei sighs. “You were just kids, Waka. If he laughed, it’s probably just because you’d surprised him with it? I mean - kids!”
Waka wipes at his eyes, his nose. “Yeah, I know. I know! What else could I have realistically expected for a response? I don’t even know when I started to think about him that way? In more than a friendship kind of way? But, no. It’s what I did after. How could I claim ‘love’ and still do all of that?”
“Do what, Waka?” Benkei isn’t sure he wants the details but, damn. Twenty years of holding this in? No fucking wonder he struggled. It feels like an eternity, waiting. It’s understandable, Waka hesitating to break his silence after so long. A shuddering breath precedes his words, too soft to echo across the tiled room.
“I hit him. He laughed, and I hit him and I shoved him down, and then I screamed every ugly word I knew at him, every insult, every curse. I didn’t even let him say anything back, Kei, I just tore him to ribbons and left him laying there. Then, I stormed off and demanded to be taken home. Cried the whole flight home because the shame hit me, the embarrassment. There was no way in hell I’d be able to look him in the eye again and not think about what I did! I couldn’t even apologise for it because I felt so awful for doing it! I’d told him I loved him!”
And he’s been punishing himself ever since. It’s the most Waka has ever said on any topic ever, but the punishment hardly fits the crime, Waka. You were kids. I’m sure he’s forgiven you for this. It’s Shin! Benkei holds himself together while he holds Waka together, fearing his shaking will shake him to pieces he’ll never be able to put back together as a whole person.
Maybe he can’t be; a piece of his heart is already missing. It’s been missing for years.
:YESTERDAY, THE INTERVIEW:
“So, your career. You’ve got a lot of years ahead of you still, Shinichiro, but, when you look back on what you’ve accomplished so far, what are your thoughts on it?”
A shrug . “Ups and downs, like any other celebrity, I’d say. I mean, I love where I am now. I’m glad I get to make movies with actors better than I am,” he pauses for audience laughter, “but the success of my new album is the reason I keep doing what I’m doing, so…” he drifts off.
“ Ear Candy’s new album has surpassed yours in terms of sales and popularity. Any thoughts on that?”
“Uh, no?” There is a ‘deer in the headlights’ look in Shin’s eyes here. The question has surprised him; there’s a tenseness in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.
“You used to be quite close to Wakasa Imaushi. What happened?”
The camera catches a slight glisten in Shin’s eyes on a closeup as he looks away. He says nothing.
“I was a fan of the ChiChi and WaWa movies growing up. I think many in the audience were, too.” Hoots and clapping follow the statement, urged into happening, mostly. “Our staff read the biographies and scoured every article they could find. You’ve never spoken about your estrangement, why is that?”
“That’s between him and me,” Shin states in a firm, unwavering voice, “and none of your f*BLEEP*ing business.”
The host doesn’t want to let it go, or is forced by producers to try to get a rise out of him, get him to a point where he might flip a chair over and storm off the set enraged. It’s that kind of network.
When Shin does choose to speak again, it’s one line before the commercial break and at the end of his ‘interview’. He reveals nothing, and everything.
“A mistake happened, and if I could go back in time to fix it, I would.”
:NOW, ELSEWHERE:
Takeomi has stopped putting the bourbon in his coffee. He fills the shot glasses again and slides one across the table to Shinichiro, who’s filling him in, finally.
Shin lets out a wry chuckle before he knocks his shot back. “I shouldn’t have laughed, ‘Omi, but fucking Christ, I was twelve! What was I supposed to say to that back then?” He gestures to the image, still on the screen. “A minute before the picture was taken, he was making fart jokes or something. Kid stuff, you know?”
Shin taps buttons on the keyboard to enlarge the image and changes the view so the focus is on Waka standing behind him. There is clearly a conflicted, serious expression on his face as he watches Shin goof around in the forefront.
“After the photographer was done with us, we were done for the day, so we went back to the dressing rooms. I was still in the mood to goof around and too dumb to notice he wasn’t. Then, he said what he said, I did what I did, and then he broke my nose and left.” Shin laughs ruefully, rubbing the bridge of it. “I told everyone later that I’d tripped over a set piece.”
Takeomi sighs as he leans back in his chair, hands rubbing his eyes. They both remember what Shin used to be like on set, a shitty memory when it came to his lines, but he never missed a mark. He moved like a dancer or martial artist, fully aware of his surroundings at all times. Takeomi should’ve known then that he was lying.
“I can’t fault him for lashing out. I was mad at the time, of course, but I thought it’d blow over, you know? We had days where we weren’t getting along. It was hardly the first time he’d thrown a punch my way, either, but that day, it was different. He surprised me. I wasn’t ready.”
Takeomi is silent as Shin restarts the slideshow, letting it roll through the photos but pausing from time to time. They’d been so close. They’d had so much fun. Fond memories flood him and more than a little heartache. Why did he let Waka leave without going after him, without apologising? That might have been his biggest mistake, looking back. Might have been? No. Was.
Shin has gone to some of Waka’s concerts in the intervening years, the tickets purchased by other people for him, and he owns all the albums. Shin even managed to obtain some of the bootlegs from when Waka’s band was first starting out, and earlier. Shin thinks Waka’s best singing was recorded when his voice was sweeter, softer, and a bit hesitant, the tracks laid down while he figured out his guitar, playing covers of songs by The Cure for practice.
The photos blur.
“I wasn’t ready for that to be the last time I’d ever talk to him, ‘Omi.”
Takeomi’s phone rings. He rises from his seat to retrieve it and his pack of cigarettes, lighting up before he answers. Shin can tell by context clues that he’s the topic of the conversation between him and Benkei. Takeomi’s smokey pacing brings him to Shin’s side after a few minutes and a warm hand drops to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “..yeah, that’s what I.. What? Last show? Pass the phone to Waka for a minute, would you? Thanks.”
Takeomi holds the phone out in front of him. “You really want that to be the last time?”
No. Shin’s hand shakes as he accepts the offer.
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Takeomi’s long stride has him to the door and out of the room before Shin can lift the phone to his ear, just in time to hear the annoyed voice he’s missed on the other end.
“-- better keep it short, ‘Omi. I’ve got a concert to get ready for.”
Shin wipes the wetness from his eyes, only to have it replaced by more, overflowing. Boys do cry. He doesn’t know what to say, except. “It’s me, WaWa.”
There’s a soft sigh, recognition. “Hey, ChiChi.”
:INTERMISSION:
The first call was filled with apologies to one another and ended with the promise to speak to each other again soon. The promise was soon filled. Day after night, they talked about their lives and where their careers took them, the challenges faced, the letdowns, opportunities and triumphs. They talked about relationships, too, and what it was they lacked the way they were living now. They both knew what it was they wanted; they wanted a friendship again, but one built on a foundation of maturity and understanding this time. They weren’t children anymore with childish wants and dreams. They also knew what they needed; time to let their relationship grow, and patience while they waited to see the fruits of their labour.
:LATER:
With the whole story known at last, it took less than a minute for Benkei and Takeomi to decide on a plan, should the men be ready for an in-person reunion. Waka’s tour had ended but Shin still had promotions for his film to show up for, plus the rest of the tour for his album, event centres already booked and sold out. They were ready but they were also willing to wait until Shin could join Waka on his well-earned hiatus, and do it properly.
It’s Monday morning and Benkei and Takeomi are twitchy from a mix of excitement and too much caffeine. They opted to set up the meeting at a family-run café in a small town - Benkei’s hometown and his parents’ café, because nobody treats him like a celebrity there. He has begged his fiancée, the waitress and manager, not to blab the plan on social media, but she keeps coming over to the table to beg for her phone back. It’s getting annoying, so he relents and gets one hell of a grateful kiss out of it.
Takeomi swats his arm to get his attention and the kiss breaks. Ah. Good! Coming toward the café, finally, they easily recognise the distinct slouched figure that is Wakasa Imaushi, lead singer of Ear Candy . They watch as Waka finishes his cigarette outside, drops the butt, and pulls a sucker out of his pocket to replace it. Benkei’s fiancée is ready to tell him to ‘sit anywhere’ when he does come in, her fingers already groping for the phone she has tucked in her apron pocket. Benkei shakes his head at her, but she pretends she doesn’t see.
Waka selects the one table that will put him in full view of anyone approaching the café and picks the chair that leaves his back facing the older men so they can’t see the expression on his face. The restless heel tapping is enough of a sign that he’s either nervous or excited. His long beaded earring swings like a pendulum, too, a quick paced tick-tock to the moment when -
His heel stops tapping, alert to the outside where a dark haired man has appeared outside, looking in.
They get one brief glance at the smile on Shinichiro Sano’s face before he’s on the move toward the door. Waka’s out of his seat before the door opens, fully ready to crash into him and be caught by the other man’s arms. He’s still strong.
Their kiss lasts a lot longer than Benkei’s did.
He and Takeomi feel like cheering, but they sit back and drink their espressos instead and watch the time slip away for the ones in front of them, twenty years gone in a heartbeat, like the time apart never happened. Waka makes sure Shin drags his chair around so they both have their backs to the spies behind them and sit side by side, heads tilted towards each other so their conversation is between them and them alone. Benkei can’t tell from where he’s sitting, but they’re likely holding hands, too.
“And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen,” Takeomi murmurs. “ChiChi and WaWa versus-”
“Themselves,” Benkei supplies. “Fuck, why did that have to take so long?”
Takeomi laughs and points at Benkei’s fiancée, who has taken out her phone for several candid snaps. They’ll both check social media sites later to see how far the news travels, but, for now, all they care about is the café and the two men back together in it.