Chapter Text
Why am I nervous?
Yu wondered what his indecision looked like – hands shoved in his pockets, pacing back and forth, his rising breath mixed with falling snow flurries. The udon restaurant he was loitering outside was warm, inviting. He reached out, placing one hand on the door, before stepping back for a third time.
Fourth time?
Fourth time.
The door opened, disgorging a chatting couple, to join the currents of salarymen and schoolchildren flowing up and down the narrow Tokyo streets. The yellow glow from within the restaurant was a promise, an invitation – one he urged himself to hurry up and accept, much like the message atop his phone notifications.
Yosuke Hanamura:
i just got here!
bench by the window O(∩_∩)O
There was no reason to be nervous; he’d saved the WORLD once by not being nervous. Right now, though, Yu Narukami was a bundle of nerves, wrapped in a winter coat. He’d almost missed his train, for god’s sake, and if he had, well— when would Yosuke next be able to meet? It was hard to find time, these days.
Back then, we had so much time. A muted whisper for January snow, vanishing between the streetlights: “Don’t waste this.”
He reached for the door again and this time, caught a glimpse – of shaggy brown hair, folded arms, those damn headphones (a bench by the window, as promised) – and he suddenly felt a string, a rope, fingers around his heart, pulling him into the restaurant’s bustling embrace.
His feet carried him between crowded stools and benches, mostly occupied by solo diners, heads down over their bowls. Steam collected in a thick haze around the central kitchen, a pair of chefs chopping steadily. Blue cloth banners hung from the ceiling, announcing seasonal deals.
None of it mattered as more than background ambience. Yosuke had reserved an empty seat beside him, studying the laminated menu stuck to the benchtop. One hand was propped beneath his chin, the other fiddling absently with the menu’s corner. He was wearing an orange v-neck sweater, a white parka draped over his knees, and Yu began to wonder when Yosuke would notice him exactly as he did.
Yosuke’s eyes lit up. He stood, so fast he almost knocked over his stool.
Yu grinned. Yosuke beamed.
He stepped forwards into Yosuke’s hug (an instinct, still).
“Hey, partner,” Yosuke murmured. Then his face scrunched, unsure, against Yu’s shoulder. “Is that weird to say?”
“No,” Yu chuckled. “It’s not weird at all.”
“Great! I saved you a seat.” Yosuke’s voice was full of familiar run-on excitement, and he watched intently as Yu shrugged off his coat, hung it over his chair, then sat.
(Suddenly, to Yu, ‘sitting’ was a foreign concept. How straight was he supposed to keep his back? Where was he meant to put his hands? How did people swallow without thinking too much?) “How long has it been, since Inaba?” he found himself asking.
“Dude, don’t make me say it. I don’t wanna think about how ancient we are.”
A sidelong glance, elbows on the table. Yosuke looked older, to match the voice that sounded older, on the rare occasions they’d chatted over Line. His hair was marginally less scruffy, fit for an adult with a job, and a salary. (Maybe a house, by now? He’d have to ask.) His shoulders were broader than they’d been, on the Samegawa flood plain.
But a lot felt the same, too. The chunky headphones, for instance, with their awful orange tint. The mischief-maker twinkle in Yosuke’s eyes, threatening to turn the world into a joke, or an insult. The flexible posture, half-way to a slouch, useful for both chucking kunai at shadows and idealizing the brittle confidence of being sixteen – each thought a wave, lapping at the beach of ‘once, for a summer, I knew everything about you’…
…and then you moved to America, and I didn’t.
Yu wondered if Yosuke was counting waves, too.
Yu realized he’d been quiet for a while. “Sorry. It’s great to see you.”
Yosuke smiled. “It’s hard to know what you’re thinking, sometimes. It’s like there’s three people inside you trying to pick the best dialogue option or something.”
“It’s four people, actually.”
“Ha – always the charmer. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been… busy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Being a teacher takes up a lot of time. University takes up even more.”
“Tell me about it. Well, let’s order food first – then you can tell me about it.”
They chatted idly as Yu scanned the menu, settling on a bog-standard niku udon, because often the best way to test a place was with the classics. Their bench faced a window, and on the other side, where it remained cold and wintry instead of humid and warm and slightly too loud, the river of people showed no signs of slowing: here, an old woman with hair as grey as Yu’s own; there, a young couple, scarves rippling; past them, a sea of red brake lights.
“What do you think that guy’s up to?” Yosuke asked.
“Which guy?”
“The one on the bicycle, holding the— what is he holding?”
“A GoPro, I think.”
“It looks like he’s chasing someone. Kinda dangerous, in this weather.”
Yu nodded sagely. “At any time, he could crash and get himself stuck in a trash can.”
“C’mon, you don’t have to bring that up EVERY single time we hang out—”
“At any time.”
“Stop! Let’s talk about you. Being a teacher, or whatever.” Yosuke rolled his eyes. “I bet the kids love you SO much.”
“Well, I won’t question your opinion.”
“What grade are you teaching these days?”
“Grade 6.”
“Is that… a good one? I’m trying to remember what Grade 6 was like. Pretty sure we learned about Ancient Egypt. Oh, and puberty.”
“Yeah, we cover both of those.”
“Our teacher also made us watch Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, but I’m not sure if that was the official curriculum, or they were just a fan of Indiana Jones.”
“Maybe it—”
“At the end all the bad guys’ faces melt off,” Yosuke added.
“—was when we study textual analysis and how it relates to the fantasy genre.” Yu shrugged. “Grade 6 is a nice age. The kids are more mature, so they can understand more complex concepts. It’s not only…”
“Shapes and ball games?”
“Sure. We can teach them about negative numbers, and biology, and ‘textual analysis’, and most of them are excited to learn. Plus, it’s before they start becoming moody teenagers, so I feel like they’re easier to manage. It’s genuinely a lot of fun. A lot of work, but—”
“Rewarding.”
“Right. It reminds of those moments we’d have with Nanako, when you could tell she was figuring out how to be a person, if that makes sense? Most of the time, people grow through a series of gradual, tiny changes, one on top of the other, but every now and then, I’d see her really realise… ‘this is how I should behave’, or ‘this is how the world works’, or… ‘this is how I can make the world a better place’.” He smiled. “I enjoy seeing them have those moments.”
Yosuke tilted his head. “Do any of ‘em figure out how to make the world worse?”
“Let’s not talk about that.”
“Heh. I just wanna make sure you’re not creating little Adachis in there.” He leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles. “I’m glad you became a teacher. I mean, I’m not in your class, but I always knew you’d be good at it.”
“Thanks. To be 100% clear, I’m currently a substitute teacher.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I started thinking – I’ve been doing it for nearly ten years, as crazy as that sounds. About time to try something different. So, I’ve started university part-time. Working on a psychology degree.”
Yosuke nodded. “Another job I know you’ll be great at. You fixed half the population of Inaba in one summer – that screams ‘natural talent’.
How’s it been so far?”
“Actually? Super interesting.”
“I’m happy for you.” They scooted their seats inward to let a group pass. “Not in a sarcastic way, in case that sounded sarcastic. I’m genuinely happy for you. Speaking of Inaba, how long ago did we stop doing annual reunions with everyone?”
“2017. Seven years ago.”
“I miss that. Must be when everyone graduated and started working.”
And when you moved to America. “Right.”
“And now we’re thirty.”
Yu grimaced. “Don’t say that.”
“Don’t say what? We’re thirty, dude! Three-zero. I know you’ve had grey hair forever, but mine’s spawning in like frogs.”
“Is life that stressful?”
Yosuke shook his head. “It’s not as if I’m avoiding you guys. I want to come to Japan and visit, but… eh, I don’t wanna bore you. Let’s talk about fun stuff.”
“Yosuke.” Yu fixed him with his deepest stare and, gratifyingly, saw that Yosuke wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Still got it. “I want nothing more than to hear about your work problems.”
“O-kay. You asked for it.”
Their udon picked that moment to arrive. It was hot enough to immediately start steaming up Yu’s glasses, while Yosuke busied himself adding an arcane combination of sauces. Yu always liked trying it plain, first.
It was good udon. Comforting udon. Likewise, he’d spent so much time ‘talking to Yosuke’ over the years it was easy to fall back into familiar rhythms, and to think back to the last time they’d hung out together.
“So – as you know,” Yosuke began, between slurps of noodles, “I decided Junes wasn’t for me.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“It was booooring. I’ve got nothing against my parents, or the idea of managing a department store, but doing that for the rest of my life? No way. So, I started thinking, ‘hey, d’you know what would be exciting?’” He turned to Yu expectantly.
“Letting Teddie manage the department store.”
“Exactly! I’ll let that dumbass bear do what he wants, while I go to America to find my DREAMS.”
He’d never hate Yosuke for pursuing said dreams; but perhaps, somewhere, deep down, Yu was the tiniest, slightest bit jealous.
“I enrolled in university there, blah blah blah, finished my business management degree, blah blah blah, got SO good at English, blah blah blah, and then, as you know—”
“As I know.”
“—I got a job at a small company called Amazon. And, let me tell you, they gotta hire more people.”
“It does sound like you’re being worked to the bone,” Yu replied.
“Dude, it’s crazy. They’re like, ‘please work extra, it’s the start of the month, there’s so many deadlines’. Then ‘please work extra, it’s the end of the month, there’s so many deadlines’. Then it’s ‘oh my god, it’s mid-quarter close and management needs us to overturn the way we all do our jobs’. I swear, it never ends!”
“But do you like it?”
“No! But they pay me money! Which I am grateful for!” Yosuke set down his chopsticks in a huff. “I’m copying you, actually. I’m looking for another job.”
“Really? That I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, and I got an offer. From SpaceX.”
Yu blinked. “That SpaceX?”
“Yeah, that one. They launch rockets, build satellites, all that cool stuff. Weird guy in charge but nobody pays attention to him much anymore. I’ve been in the US long enough to get a green card now, so I can work more permanently, and I thought SpaceX would be cool.” He shrugged. “Imagine my surprise when they thought I was cool.”
They’re just catching up to what I knew already. “Congrats,” he said aloud. “That’s incredible.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll be a product manager there… if I say yes.”
“Will you?”
Yosuke sighed. “I need to think about it. Everyone works too much at SpaceX, too. I always thought over-working was the Japanese salaryman stereotype, but it turns out that’s everywhere, these days. I mean, I shouldn’t complain – teachers work hard. You work hard. Did I ever tell you I thought you’d become an actor?”
Yu frowned. “If you did, I’ve forgotten. Maybe when we were drunk?”
“I was convinced for a while you and Rise would become a power couple. She’d be the idol, and you’d be… an actor, or a dancer, or another type of celebrity.”
“I… can’t say I ever wanted that, to be honest.”
“I know; I just thought it might happen, whether you wanted it or not.” Yosuke smiled, a little ruefully. “What’s the rest of the Investigation Team up to, these days? How much do you still talk to those guys?”
“I see them occasionally, but everyone’s doing their own thing. You know how it is.” Yu started counting on his fingers. “Chie’s a police officer, in Inaba. Yukiko still runs her family’s inn. They’re the ones who’ve stayed connected the most. Teddy’s trying to bankrupt Junes from the inside… I think he works for the Fukuoka branch now?”
“And that city’s still standing? Wow.”
“Rise does idol work sometimes—”
“Yeah, I see her posts on Twitter.”
“—although idol jobs dry up when you’re thirty, so she’s starting her own agency instead. I heard it’s doing well. Naoto’s an… analyst? I have trouble understanding exactly what she’s in charge of. It sounds classified. She’s much less of a celebrity these days.”
“I see.”
“Kanji has by FAR the coolest job – he’s designing children’s toys for Sanrio. As for Marie…” Yu gestured vaguely at the snow outside. “Maybe she’s controlling Seattle’s weather, too.”
“Then she should ease up on the rain,” Yosuke retorted. “I’m jealous Kanji found apparently the funnest job in the world, but I’m glad that oaf’s doing good. He deserves it. I’m glad he and Naoto are still together.”
They watched the snow fall, as Yu stirred egg through his noodles. Perhaps the oversized Pompompurin backpack on the tiny child behind them was a Kanji special. He imagined Kanji staring angrily at it, trying to get the design right.
“Do you like it, in the USA?” Yu asked suddenly.
“Sure, I like it. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“Okay, it’s not perfect – especially now, with the whole ‘political situation’ – but it’s given me so many opportunities. I’d NEVER have gotten the same opportunities if I’d stayed. Maybe I’m lucky, but things have gone really great for me. And Seattle’s nice, especially in the summer. I’ve been there long enough to make friends and build, like, a reasonable social life. You should visit! Round up Chie and Yukiko and come visit me.”
“I’ll try.” I’m glad you’ve made friends. Even if it means you’re less likely to come back to Japan any time soon. Yu raised an eyebrow. “…Girlfriend?”
“Nah.” Yosuke snorted, shaking his head. “Never worked out. You?”
“None.”
“Really?” He looked curiously hopeful, in a sense, or perhaps Yu was misinterpreting disbelief. “Yu Narukami – the Romeo of Inaba – doesn’t have a girlfriend? Wait, don’t tell me you’ve got a wife?”
Yu chuckled. “Why are you so surprised?”
“It’s just a struggle to understand what went wrong.”
“Nothing went ‘wrong’, per se. Like you said – it never worked out. Although, I was thinking—” He bit his tongue.
He’d almost blurted it out. The whole thing, just like that; the entire reason he’d been so nervous, out on the street, about reconnecting with his best friend.
To be honest, it wasn’t worth getting nervous about. It was akin to an itch, in the back of his mind – one he’d forgotten for ten years, give or take, but which had recently grown in intensity until it could no longer be ignored. It was like re-reading a book you’d put down long ago, and realising you’d never quite gotten to the ending.
It’d be nice to get an ending. He didn’t care what kind.
Don’t waste this.
“Yosuke… there’s something I think about a lot,” he said.
“Oh yeah? What’s up?” Yosuke gaze was curious, but friendly, brown eyes full of life.
“When we were talking on the flood plain, about Saki-senpai, and wanting to be special. Do you remember that?”
“Of course I remember, Yu.”
As Yosuke said his name, his skin shivered. “Every now and then, I imagine that moment. Us, sitting on the riverbank.” In curve of his bowl, he could see it, undamaged by years: the tall grass, the concrete steps, the sigh of the river over shining pebbles. “Perhaps I’m wrong, but those conversations about being special, and wanting to protect the people who were special to us – I keep thinking back, and wondering what would’ve happened if I’d simply said, out loud, that ‘special’ meant… us. It meant you, Yosuke.” Yu found himself looking down at his food, afraid of what Yosuke might say, or what his expression might be. “It feels like I could’ve spoken that aloud and changed the world, in a way. Part of me wishes I’d reached out and done it. But we were kids. It’s stupid to think about.”
A pause, as the world revolved around them both: the Yosuke-centric model of planetary orbits, each heartbeat an asteroid that could kill a species.
“Y’know… I don’t think you are wrong,” Yosuke said slowly.
Yosuke was grinning. The asteroid hit, creating shockwaves of relief.
“I was a complete shithead back then – I don’t need to tell you that – but I was head-over-heels for you, dude. I idolised you. Seventeen-year-old Yosuke would’ve insisted it was TOTALLY platonic, but this Yosuke?” He pointed to his chest. “There was a little something in the air, for sure. I’ll admit it.”
Yu felt himself blush, chuckling softly. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“Don’t be,” Yosuke said. “I think about it too, sometimes.”
“Wait. You do?”
“Sure! Not every day, but it happens, once or twice a year.” Yosuke swallowed, fighting off embarrassment of his own. “Gah, it feels weird to vocalise this. Fine, I had a crush on you as a confused teen, get over it.” He rolled his eyes. “There were so many moments though – other than when you hugged me.”
“Mmmm.” Yu stared into his broth, an office worker contemplating life at the bottom of a beer glass. “Ski trip.”
“Ski trip,” Yosuke echoed.
“King’s game.”
“King’s game.
“School festival.”
“Sch— are we really going to list every time I was trying not to be gay around you?”
“That time you came to hang out in my room and wanted to see my pornography.”
“Oh, we are.” Yosuke leaned in closer, his voice falling to a whisper. “You should’ve shown me your pornography. THAT would’ve kick-started things.”
“…Seriously?”
“No, not seriously! Well, I dunno. Maybe. Obviously, I enjoyed hanging out with you. And you had so many people to hang out with, so whenever you chose me— it felt like I’d won something.”
“I enjoy hanging out with you, Yosuke,” Yu replies. “I still do.”
“And you are really good at telling people want they want to hear.” Yosuke wagged his index finger. “You really supported me, though, through all that stuff with Saki-senpai – working out how I felt about Inaba, my own life there. I wouldn’t be the same person without that.” He nodded at his own reflection, a ghost in the glass. “We went through a lot together. Standing at the edge of heaven, facing down the gods… I remember being so relieved to have you there in front of me, holding that stupid sword, in our stupid school uniforms. I was convinced we could do anything.”
Images flashed through Yu’s mind, flickering like old film: Izanami’s black wings, under an angry sky. Adachi, arms spread, walking towards them through the fog. Kunino-sagiri, twitching in tune with the white noise of thousand cracked TVs. It would be hard, always, to contrast those victories with the realities of everyday life.
“I was happy,” Yu said, “to have you standing behind me.”
“Heh. We really did have something back then, partner.”
Yu grimaced.
“Aha!” Yosuke retorted. “You pretended to be fine with ‘partner’ earlier!”
“I don’t HATE it, I just think—”
“Partner. Partner-partner-partner.”
“There’s an appliance store next door,” Yu said evenly. “So many TVs…”
“Hey, hey, not your job! You’re supposed to save me after I get pushed in.” Half a snort, through Yosuke’s nose. Then he sighed, looking skyward, the dictionary definition of wistful. “Damn. You really did like me, huh?”
Of course I did, you idiot. “Yeah.”
“It feels so far away now, though,” Yosuke murmured, “like a fairytale. Faded.”
“Foggy?” Yu suggested.
“We aren’t THAT old.”
Not yet. Yu picked up a tangle of noodles with his chopsticks, then let them fall. Life was so full, now, but in a more complicated way than how the days in Inaba had been ‘full’. There wasn’t time to sit, and talk, and simply exist; there was only time for doing. Even this meetup with Yosuke had taken a month to coordinate. ‘Being a busy adult’ wasn’t a total bust, obviously, and romanticising high school was also a convenient way to erase its inherently irritating aspects. Adulthood meant independence, and trying new things, and having real impact on people’s lives, if you played your cards right.
It also meant there wasn’t time to save the world. If another victim had the misfortune of getting murdered tomorrow, or another ancient god decided humans were getting too full of themselves, the Investigation Team wouldn’t be the ones solving the case.
We can change the world in smaller ways. Think about it from that perspective.
“You hear about the new Prime Minister?” Yosuke asked.
“Yosuke, I live here. I voted in the election.”
“Oh yeeeaah. Well, what do you think? Will it be ‘good for Japan’ or whatever?”
“No.”
“Strong opinion.”
Yu sighed. “It might be good for some people. But increasingly, I feel like current politics is defined by how much you value empathy. One side values it slightly more. The other side values it slightly less.”
“Yeah, and both sides think they’re the good guys.”
“It’s more as if… one side doesn’t mind being the ‘bad guy’ to anyone who doesn’t think like they do. And this new Prime Minister? A lot of their policies sound like ‘bad guy’ policies.” Yu shrugged. “The election was close. Maybe they’ll do some good, too.”
“That’s what I thought about the US election,” Yosuke said, nodding sagely. “Oh, this crazy dude got elected, but let’s give him a chance! Maybe it won’t be so bad!’” He grimaced, shoulders slumping. “It was bad. What other adult things should we talk about? AI? Do you want to talk about AI? Or North Korea?”
“How about we talk about the TV shows you’ve been watching?”
“Alright. We can be less depressing.” Yosuke added more chili oil to his broth, then leaned sideways, smirking conspiratorially. “Have you heard… of a series… called Battlestar Galactica?”
“Uhh—”
“Of course you haven’t. It’s from 2004. Sci-fi. There are spaceships, evil robots, ancient prophecies, all the big hits. One of my housemates told me it was her favourite show ever, and I was like ‘favourite ever?’, and she was like, ‘favourite EVER!’ so I decided I had to watch it. And it’s pretty good! Dark, but good. The story starts with most of humanity being wiped about – by those evil robots I mentioned – and the rest of it follows a ship that escaped. They’re forced to make lots of grim choices to survive.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I just don’t watch much American media.”
“Does it feel weird talking to me, then? Now I’ve been over there for a while?”
“You do sound ‘less Japanese’, whatever that means.” Yu smiled. “But that’s not a bad thing, is it? Everyone’s a mix of the places they’ve been.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Actually, Nanako likes American shows. She keeps talking about one called… Selectance? Severing?”
“Nanako is watching Severance?!?”
“You can chat to her about it yourself – when you visit her.” Yu gave him a look.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not letting you leave without seeing Nanako. Why didn’t you tell any of us you were visiting?”
Yosuke raised his hands defensively. “It’s just a short trip! Seriously, I’m only here for a few days, to go to a friend’s wedding. I didn’t want to make it a big deal. You know how it goes – you agree to see one friend, then you’re agreeing to see ten friends, and with each one you’re locked into the same conversation of ‘What’ve you been up to? How’s life?’, and I don’t mind having that conversation, but I feel like things are different, now. Like we’re all satellites, orbiting the Earth, having a conjunction a few times a year. I don’t want our friendship to feel like that.”
Does it feel like that to you? Yu wanted to ask. It doesn’t to me. Or maybe I’m blinded by the sunlight. “Chie’s going to be mad you didn’t message her.”
“Okay.”
“She’s going to be SO mad.”
“Okay, okay! Tell her I’m sorry – maybe we can meet up, the day before I fly back?”
“She will punch a train to be there. No one’s going to think you’re a burden, Yosuke.”
He shifted in his chair, a little nervously. “Has, uh… has Dojima forgiven me yet?”
“Definitely not.”
“Damn. I was hoping by now he’d—”
“From Nanako’s perspective, you’re the most awesome friend ever. From Dojima’s perspective, you helped Nanako sneak out of the house for a weekend to visit her girlfriend in Sendai.”
“I was just trying to be helpful!”
Yu put on his best grumpy Dojima voice, hands in pockets. “‘She was only fifteen, Yosuke. It’s a big city, anything could’ve happened. She could’ve died!’”
“I was going to Sendai anyway, so I thought I could take her! I thought it would be safer IF I took her! From all accounts she had a very good time! Gah, I don’t have to explain myself to you—”
“Unfortunately, you have to explain yourself to my uncle.”
“Yeah, and I’ve tried. A hundred times.” Yosuke shook his head. “Pleeease tell me the girlfriend’s still around.”
“The girlfriend is ‘around’, but I don’t know if she’s around around. Nanako doesn’t tell me everything. She’s in college now.”
“Jeez, she’s in college? Doing what?”
“Medicine. She wants to be a doctor.”
“Aw, man.” Yosuke looked away, the past catching in his throat. “She’ll be such a great doctor.”
“Yeah,” Yu replied. “The best.” He prodded Yosuke’s shoulder with a finger. “She believes you’re pretty awesome for going to the USA, by the way. She’s thinking about following you. She’s ambitious.”
“Nanako wants to study overseas?”
“That’s another reason Dojima’s annoyed with you – he thinks you’re responsible for putting that idea in her head. Can you imagine how much he’ll worry if she goes overseas? He can barely handle her being away at university.”
“…He’s never going to forgive me, is he.” Yosuke put his head in his hands.
“Probably not. But he’ll be happy, in secret.”
“I hope so. It’d be nicer if he showed it, though.”
“If he did, he wouldn’t be Dojima anymore.”
“I guess. Still, am I not allowed to wish for validation? A bit of ‘hey, Yosuke, I’m SO grateful you’re here to be a role model for my daughter’?” He paused, to consider this impossible scenario. “I was going to say Nanako’s more similar to you than her dad, but that isn’t true, is it. Both of them— they wanna help people, except one’s a scary police detective and the other was probably the cutest kid to ever exist.”
“Have you seen Dojima’s baby pictures?”
Yosuke snorted. “I have a hard time believing he’d win.”
“You’d be surprised. But seriously, I’ll keep you updated if Nanako plans this USA ‘study abroad’ idea more seriously. She’ll be overjoyed if you can help her do it.”
“Of course! I’ll be there. You can count on it. We’ll discuss Severance while I give her a SpaceX tour and you… look at all the cool photos we send you. How’s THAT for a future.”
Yu smiled at the thought, trying not to sound too envious. “Think of me as I’m trying to teach twelve-year-olds about the Heike and the Genji.”
The butterflies in his stomach had settled into an easy warmth: the tides of good company, first charted in childhood, yet endless in how it could stretch and fold around their lives. Its patterns remained, in their voices, in Yosuke’s soft and delicate expression, in the spare inches between their shoulders. At once, it was a rock, and as weightless as light.
It made him happy. It always would.
Yosuke had changed, of course: for all the tides and their familiarity, there were new currents to explore. Yosuke was more… casual, more assured. He’d always tried to appear like that, but the previously brittle veneer of high school confidence had been reshaped into some kind of underlying truth. Equally, Yu wondered what Yosuke might say about him, and whether he’d noticed the friend he’d so idolised in the past had perhaps lost a few of his brilliant, gleaming edges to intervening years – now more a chunk of quartz than a diamond. (Sometimes, Yu wondered where the diamond had gone.)
But that was the nature of stars and satellites, and atoms and electrons, and acquaintances, rivals, lovers and friends: systems formed, and for a time, they entered closed and common orbits. Those orbits could stagnate, or twist, or elongate, but one way or another, they’d eventually drift apart, taken by chaos’ inescapable embrace. Systems decayed. Nature grew. Winning against entropy required constant effort, or a well-placed burn just before you fell back to Earth, to keep things going for just a moment more.
There were many types of orbits, of course. The hyperbolic orbits of interstellar objects hurtling through the solar system, briefly kissing the sun, never to return. The circular orbits of planets, with regular, predictable periods, possessing all the comforts and symmetries of home. The eccentric orbits of far-apart spy satellites, characterised by quick dives through the atmosphere and long, upward arcs through the void of space (gifting perhaps too much time to look down). In some cases – rare ones – objects in different orbits could resonate, regularly revisiting one another throughout their lifespans. Yu wondered what those satellites might think, of the two figures sitting beside each other in an udon restaurant in Tokyo.
Time passed, and it was warm, and lovely, and all too soon their bowls were empty, and it was time to pay, and time to go.
They walked towards the train station in the cold dark blue, coats drawn around their shoulders, huddled together, as their breath fogged and the streetlights shimmered. It hadn’t been that chilly earlier in the day, but now that the sun had set, and the wind had started to flit through the alleys— Yu couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so frozen. He rubbed his hands together as they hurried down the footpath, now markedly less crowded than before. Brightly coloured signs jutted over the street, advertising hotels, electronics, sake, and the general concept of a warm interior.
“Is that the same guy?” Yosuke said suddenly.
“Which guy?”
“The one from earlier – with the GoPro.”
Yu squinted. “…It is. I wonder what he’s up to?” They could hear him talking to either himself or the camera on the other side of the street. He followed a group of pedestrians for a moment, then stopped, turning to walk in the other direction.
“Should we ask him? Solving a mystery would be a fun finale.”
“…It’s too cold for mysteries,” Yu relied. His teeth chattered. “Though admittedly, it’s hard to imagine any YouTube video being important enough to film right now.”
“Exactly! Mysterious.”
They walked past the huge glass windows of an electronics store, televisions stacked high, looping picturesque demo footage of cities and forests and starlit nights. It wouldn’t hit midnight for a couple more hours, but still, Yu had experienced enough TV-related trauma that he couldn’t help a second and third glance.
Yosuke noticed, of course, and smiled faintly, bumping his shoulder – ‘stop that’. Yu shook his head, exhaling (which at least made his nose warmer). Even though it was cold, it was nice to be cold with a friend. “Just making sure,” he said aloud.
“Of what?” Yosuke asked innocently.
“I have so many students like you. Kids who keep toeing the line between smart and—”
“Awesome? Smart and awesome?”
“Smart and annoying.” Yu hunched his shoulders into the wind. “Just put on your headphones and walk. We’re nearly there.”
“Can we un-elect you as group leader? Did we ever do that?”
“No. The position is for life.”
The mysterious vlogger was left behind, along with the perfectly innocent stack of televisions, the udon pleasantly warm in their stomachs. Ample time to contemplate the meagre time they had left, before Yosuke took the JR line back to his hotel and Yu travelled the other direction, to his parents’ old apartment.
Five minutes, give or take.
Perhaps they could afford to walk more slowly.
“…Now you’ve got ME thinking about it,” Yosuke muttered. “Ugh.” He was looking at the sky, snow settling on his upturned cheeks, definitely not watching where he was going, and Yu waited for him to continue. “If you felt that way, back then – why didn’t you ask me to date you? You were so confident. So charming. If you’d asked— fine, I was 100% repressed, but MAYBE you could’ve dragged me into it. Maybe.” His gaze dropped back to Earth, then swivelled to Yu’s face.
“The answer – the honest one – is I had a confidence for a lot of things, but not that. Not yet.” His brow furrowed, as he searched for the words. “Rise was different; she was always asking me out. Or if I’d talked with Chie or Yukiko about dating, that would’ve also been straightforward. But two guys confessing to each other, in Inaba, in 2011?” Their boots crunched on the snow. “Solving murders sounds less complicated.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was busy proving how straight I was, along with every other guy within fifty miles. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to put this on you.”
“I was close to asking, a couple of times. Maybe I could’ve pushed.” And if I had? Would it have led to something real? Or would it have split us apart?
“I think… actually… I kinda wish you had pushed,” Yosuke said. “It could’ve been fun. Imagine it: we could’ve spent the rest of high school together, gone to university together, found an apartment together, figured out jobs together. So much fun.”
It would’ve been exciting, Yu thought. Exciting, and heady, and beautiful, and—
“Plus, we would’ve blown Chie’s and Yukiko’s minds, so that’s a bonus,” Yosuke added.
It was a lot to imagine, all at once.
Too much.
The imagining grew to be a starving black hole inside him, gaping and sad, and he reached desperately for an explanation before he was swallowed. “Perhaps it’s good we got to change,” Yu said. “To be separate people, for a while. To see the world differently.”
Yosuke laughed under his breath; or maybe he didn’t. “What a wise thing to say. What a Yu thing to say.” And the silence that followed asked: do you really mean that?
Yu didn’t know the answer.
Or maybe he did.
I’m a liar.
The train wound its way towards Shinjuku station, swaying gently as it rounded a curve in the track. Yu had decided to stay with Yosuke for a moment longer; it wasn’t much difference, after all, between catching the subway directly or taking the more circuitous route home. The extra ¥100 was a small price to pay.
Their carriage was the last, and it was silent, and empty. (A rare sight, on Tokyo transit, but the weather had forced most people home early.) They sat beside each other, facing the windows opposite. Outside, the city lights glinted in a sea of perfect dark, framed by passing trees and fences. It was a contrast to the brightness inside the carriage, a fluorescent white that left no place to hide.
The conversation had faltered, after they’d boarded the train.
Yu – not for the first time that night – wondered what Yosuke was thinking. His own thoughts were rabbits, darting in circles, all melancholy and nervousness and idle chatter. He wished he could wrangle them into something useful, something real, a memory of stars, and udon, and clouded breath, to step from like a stone in a river when tomorrow arrived and the night faded from view.
He felt Yosuke’s shoulder shift, against his own, and glanced at their reflections in the window: one head of grey, one head of brown.
The brown head was angled towards him.
He blinked, then turned to his left.
Yosuke was looking at him. His eyes were wide, and full, so close and so… warm, framed by messy hair and slightly rosy cheeks. They held the same old twinkle he’d fallen in love with, which he wondered if he deserved.
The spark was there, though. It wasn’t leaving.
It was as if eternity existed in that glance, the train never to arrive.
But the train would arrive.
Tomorrow would arrive.
Yu’s breath caught in his throat. He could feel his heart beating, his legs aching, wanting to pace like he had outside the restaurant. He wanted to shout, or close his eyes, or grab Yosuke’s hand, or lean back, but most of all, most of all, he wanted to tell the truth.
A well-placed burn could change an orbit forever.
He leaned in towards Yosuke and kissed him.
Their lips met. A touch of teeth. He felt Yosuke twitch and Yu leaned in further, sliding along the seats. The rabbits were swept away by a flood of yearning, a wild spark, a supernova racing down his spine. His heart flew higher, higher, as Yosuke bit at his lip, pawed at his shoulders, kissed him back, nervously, then with no nervousness at all, and his hands grabbed at messy brown hair as neon signs flashed past the windows.
Their lips parted, and he took a breath, and Yosuke tasted of shooting stars.
Eventually – eventually – Yu broke off the kiss. He found himself hanging from Yosuke’s shoulders, his partner’s breath warm and ticklish in his ear (in, out). He could feel Yosuke’s chest through their winter coats, the curve of his back, his arms slightly too long.
“That’s thirteen years we missed,” Yosuke whispered, laughing softly.
“We can have thirteen more,” Yu replied.
Yu didn’t go back to his parents’ apartment that night. Instead, he found himself standing outside Yosuke’s hotel room. He paused, hand on the door handle, as Yosuke fished for the key.
Thirteen years ago, he remembered being on a ski trip with his friends, and looking at Yosuke’s sleeping form, on the futon beside him. He remembered gazing at Yosuke’s face, thinking how beautiful it was for endless minutes, while the others slept around them.
Suddenly, Yosuke’s eyes had opened too, in the dark.
And they’d stared at each other, saying nothing, revealing nothing, unwilling to break that perfect moment.
Moments could be perfect, when you were seventeen years old.
When you were thirty, they could be equally as perfect. They also didn’t have to end. An orbit could start with just one night; one night could turn into another, during a visit to Seattle, and then a week, and then a summer. Perhaps, if they were lucky, it could turn into a life (and wouldn’t that blow Chie’s and Yukiko’s minds).
He closed the hotel room door behind them as Yosuke shrugged off his jacket, and laid his headphones on the bedside table, and started taking off his shirt.
The next morning, Yu woke up.
Yosuke was sprawled on top of the sheets beside him. Clothes were scattered in the corners.
It was impossible to be certain if any of this would work out. Impossible to know if this was a mistake, or what might happen, or if they were ready for whatever came next. There was so much to figure out, and uproot, and change—
Adults loved the word ‘impossible’.
Instead, he looked at Yosuke’s sleeping form, on their cheap, single hotel bed. His chest rose and fell, and he longed to touch it, and to feel the beating heart within.
There would be time.
Gravity could wait.
He gazed at Yosuke’s face, so beautiful in the morning sunlight, and waited for his eyes to open.