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It has been a while since the last time they truly had a peaceful day off. Continuous stressful incidents have drained all their energy, making Shima want nothing more than to immediately get back home and lie on his familiar bed without doing anything. The atmosphere in his apartment is somehow indescribably silent, yet tranquil enough for him to rest all his strained nerves, not being disturbed by someone's noise that had been around him for days.
Or at least, that was what he thought.
A sudden ringtone wakes him from his drowsiness, breaking the silence alongside the small sounds coming from the TV that he doesn't even know how long has been on. A gentle green light from the old TV illuminates the corner a little, just enough for him to recognize the familiar name that pops onto the screen. It's not really normal for him to call Shima at this time of night. Hesitating for a moment, Shima picks up the call and answers with an unusually lazy voice:
"Yes, Ibuki?"
There is... no answer — no usual mischievous voice, no cracking jokes, not even the mocking humor that sometimes pisses him off. Something is abnormal. On the other end, there's only the sound of heavy breathing, so quiet that if Shima didn't pay attention, he could barely hear it. It makes him a little more nervous.
"What's wrong?" he finally asks.
At last, the familiar voice comes out, but carries an incomprehensible feeling.
"Ah... Sorry for calling you this late. Can I come to your place tonight? The power lines in my place might have some problems, and it seems that I have to suffer from the blackout for several hours. But today is too fucking hottt, I can't take it at all. So Shima, pleaseee, could you think about your partner in this difficult situation?"
"I haven't even said no," Shima said, after a very him-like sigh.
"Hehe, thank youuu! I'm coming right away!" a cheerful voice, like a kid having permission from their parents, or like someone who had finally found the answer for their problems.
Yeah, just like the usual Ibuki - a noisy guy with an optimistic attitude in almost every situation. However, something is off. Something is different from his usual self. Shima knows that, but he decided to ignore it, eventually.
Just a few minutes later, Ibuki has already appeared in front of Shima’s apartment door, holding a bag of beers and some snacks that he brought on the way. “It was a thank-you, for letting me stay tonight”, he said. That being said, neither of them intends to eat anything right now, so Shima just simply takes the items and puts them neatly in the fridge. They may enjoy them tomorrow, after a delicious breakfast prepared by one of them - or both - while lounging in front of the TV watching a random show that Shima doesn’t even know what it is about. He has no idea of why that scene appears so vividly in his mind, so vividly as if it had already occurred several times—so vividly, in fact, that it felt like something he truly looked forward to.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” Ibuki says while swiftly slipping through the door and heading toward the living room. There's not much furniture here, just the essentials. “It’s the minimalist style,” as Shima once explained. Well, if that’s what Shima prefers, Ibuki has no complaints at all.
While Ibuki is lost in his thoughts, Shima has already prepared a futon, placing it perfectly aligned with his own bed.
“Are you going to sleep or not?”
A sudden voice startles him. Ibuki pokes his head into the bedroom and protests with a firm tone, “Wait, I can sleep on the sofa, you don’t need to do that!”
“But that won’t be comfortable for your humorously long legs. Well, but if you want them to suffer all night and wake up numb, I won’t stop you. Suit yourself,” Shima says, pretending to put the futon back into the drawer.
“Wait, wait—the futon will really help! I truly appreciate it,” Ibuki says, defeated by Shima’s convincing words, pressing his palms together in gratitude.
Time goes by, and they finally find themselves in their perfect positions, sleeping soundly.
...
A heavy breath. A suffocating groan. Something is happening. Shima wakes up to some strange noises. Eyes blink heavily as he tries to focus all his senses to figure out where the sound is coming from. It’s a little too dark to make out directions, but somehow, he finally manages to turn his gaze toward the one who should have been sleeping peacefully on the futon beside his bed.
Ibuki is still lying there, but it seems that he is suffering from something unspeakable, drowning him in the deepest part of the unknown. Despite the chill breeze in the air and the electric fan still running, he's soaked in cold sweat. His face scrunches in displeasure, covered in sweat, a teardrop is slowly running down his cheek. His body shivers as if he is tolerating a lot of pain — the kind of pain that pierces through his nerves, seeming to drain all his will to live. A sound, a very small sound. Is he trying to say something?
“Shima... please... Shima... answer me.” A whisper coming from him sounds like a desperate cry for help. Ibuki is calling his name. He is calling Shima. Ibuki needs him. And Shima — he is right beside him.
“HEY, IBUKI, GET UP... IBUKI, CAN YOU HEAR ME? IBUKI, ANSWER ME!”, he says while shaking Ibuki’s firm biceps.
How long has it been since he last heard himself in this worry? How long has it been since he last was this afraid? How long has it been since he last felt he could lose his partner at any moment? Since that incident? He does not know. The only thing that exists in his mind now is hoping Ibuki will answer him immediately.
“AA…Hah”, finally, Ibuki sprang up.
“Shima?” he gasped, those eyes looking at him as if he was searching for the genuine answer, as if he could finally come back to reality. Without any other words, he immediately holds Shima in his arm, tightening like holding the most precious thing in his life that could easily be lost if he let go for even one second.
“Shima, it’s really you, isn’t it? This is reality…you are still alive?”, he speaks with a shaken voice, an uncertainty rises from his throat. His voice is so quavering that it almost comes to collapse. His head buried in Shima’s shoulder, hiding himself from Shima’s eyesight, yet the tremble still hasn’t left his body. A tall, confident guy now looks so vulnerable in front of his eyes. Gently, Shima raises his hand toward Ibuki’s large back, caressing it like comforting a lonely child that has suffered from loneliness for too long.
His voice, softer than any moment of his life, “Yes, it’s me, your partner. I’m here.”
“What’s the problem, a nightmare?”, he asks. Years of working together have passed, yet he is still not sure what, besides the well-being of those he loved, can make this guy this miserable. Ibuki still does not answer, just simply sitting there, his arms still holding Shima firmly. They stay like that for a while, Shima’s hand gently pats on Ibuki’s back, silently comforting him.
“Shima?”
“Yes?”
“…”
“…Do you remember that day?” The question seems abstract, yet both of them know what it refers to. How can they forget that day, in Tokyo Wan Marina, they faced their worst nightmare ever. Yes, it’s truly a nightmare, a nightmare that haunts them every moment they think about it. The feeling he had on that day appears vividly to his senses, making him slightly flick. But what Ibuki saw that day, what haunted his nights—Shima never asked. They’d never spoken of it. Not really. They just let things stay buried in the corners of their memory.
“I saw a dream of you.” Ibuki finally says, head still resting on Shima’s shoulder.
“On that boat. I heard a gunshot. You were there. But you just...laying there. I saw...blood....all over your temple.” The more he speaks, the more he trembles, as if he is collecting all courage to continue, to show Shima the deepest part of his side. Shima, hearing Ibuki’s sniff on his shoulder, instinctively pats his head with the utmost gentleness. At this moment, no word other than this, as Shima believes, could help him better. Ibuki stops for a moment, because of Shima’s actions, or to arrange all the words inside his head for better convey, or both of those reasons. No one really knows, even Ibuki himself. Taking a deep breathe, Ibuki continues, his voice still cracks in sobbing:
“I had called you, so...so many times, but you didn’t answer me. I...tried to do everything, but you still stayed silent. Your body was so cold, but the blood was so warm. And, I had...shot...him. The cool feeling of the pistol. I cannot get it out of my mind. That scene, it repeated over and over and over again that I don’t know how many times it had appeared. I don’t even know if it was a dream anymore. I just...keep asking myself why. Why did everything end up like this.” He weeps silently. His hands grasp onto Shima’s loose shirt, trying not to cry out loud.
The hand is still resting on that back, fondling up and down.
“That was just a nightmare. Don’t worry. I’m right here, you see. There, there.” Ibuki still has not lifted his head up to those words, in fact, he nestles deeper to Shima’s neck, tightening his hold, sobbing quietly. A part of Shima’s shirt is damp with tears, yet he doesn’t care at all. They just stay like that for a moment, a moment to let all their raw emotions out, to let all fear and uncertainty be uncovered. Like anyone else, Ibuki has a hidden side, an inner thought that he keeps from everyone. But this is Shima, and Ibuki trusts him, to the bottom of his heart, he does trust him.
Time has passed, Ibuki seems a bit calmer, or at least Shima doesn’t hear him sniffle anymore. Ibuki raises his head a little, so his voice can be heard more clearly, though he still avoids Shima’s eyes.
“Hey, Shima?”
“Yes?”
“…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you remember the day you told me that I had to live a long life?” Shima hums in response. How could he forget that day? Maybe that is the very first sentimental thing he has said to his partner, the first genuine emotion was exposed after 6 years living under guiltiness, under self-disbelief and isolation. That day, he found something in his new partner, something that was so similar to his deceased one. They are not totally the same, but their strive for justice somehow has so much in common.
Finally, Ibuki raises his head, his eyes looking straight into Shima’s own, filled with unspeakable desire, desperately craving for Shima’s attention. He continues.
“And so should you. You also have to live a long life. Don’t ever think about leaving this world so early. Okay?”
No doubt—when it comes to life and death, Ibuki is always this serious.
Shima looks directly at him—no avoidance, just facing him with all his thoughts. He chuckles and violently ruffles Ibuki’s hair, the way he might with a pet dog, if he had one. Well, he often calls Ibuki an unruly stray dog, so it's not much different. Ibuki doesn’t seem to mind.
“I don’t have any plans to die that early,” he says.
“Promise?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“Yeah, you have,” Ibuki pouts.
“Okay, okay—except for those times.”
“What? That’s a terrible excuse!”
They lock eyes—and then both burst into laughter. The air around them softens, filled with genuine happiness and comfort. Ibuki finally let Shima go, both of his hands covers his blushing, red face as he bow his head slightly in embarrassment.
“AAA, I’m so sorry for what just happened. I’m a little bit...uh...scared. That nightmare. And...uhm... your shirt. I’m so sorry once again.” He says, his eyes dart to the side to avoid Shima’s gaze. A stubborn person like him having this kind of reaction is quite rare. Sure, he might be a wild dog, but even wild dogs have manners.
“Forget about that.” Shima says. “Let’s go to sleep, I’m tired. And I bet you are too.”
Ibuki slightly nobs his head in agreement. That experience truly has drained all his energy.
Eventually, both of them, in their most comfortable position, slowly fall asleep. This night Ibuki would have the soundest sleep he has ever had in a long time, with his partner now peacefully resting right beside him.