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Every spring, Subaru flipped through the newspaper to see the cherry blossom forecasts. Marking the day of full bloom, he would wake up earlier on that day to spend the morning packing some bento. The grandmother was notified that he would take a day off. There were never any questions from her side.
Misleading her felt bad. He never really explained the day off, but the assumption was there - sakura blossoms brought too many painful memories, and the sorrow was unbearable. Each year since Hokuto died, he called and said, “The full bloom is on that day. I’ll be staying home.” It felt almost like delivering a line in the play.
The grandmother would say, “Understood. Take care, Subaru.”
After packing a bento and putting on some clean clothes, the young onmyoji brushed his hair and spritzed some of the old cologne Hokuto had bought him while she was still alive.
The bento boxes and a picnic blanket went into a bag. After leaving the house, the next stop was the closest 7-11, where Subaru would buy some soft drinks and then go to Ueno Park.
Picking a spot a bit further away from other people, he would spread the blanket on top of the balding spots of grass and sit down, slowly sipping one of the drinks he brought.
This was the routine for the last couple of years, and around the time Subaru drank half of his drink, Seishirou would appear.
So it wasn’t surprising when Seishirou did appear, a 6-pack of beer under his armpit.
Without the sunglasses, the prosthetic eye looked like an exposed heart, giving the artificial sheen. Squinting, Seishirou smiled brightly, bringing the memory of the friendly veterinarian who had tea parties with twins, going along with any whimsy that graced Hokuto’s imagination.
“Morning, Subaru-kun.”
“Morning,” Subaru side-eyed the beer, “isn’t it a bit early for that?”
Seishirou chuckled and dropped the 6-pack on the blanket.
“Well, this is for later. As soon as I sit down, I don’t think I’ll get up to buy anything else. I’m far too lazy and old now.”
Subaru scoffed theatrically, while Seishirou dropped his coat on the blanket and was unbuttoning his blazer, trying to sit down. After digging in his pockets, he got out a pack of Mild Seven and a cheap plastic lighter.
“Please don’t smoke here. You’re gonna get my blanket covered in ash.”
“I can pay for your cleaner’s bill.”
“No, thank you.”
Seishirou looked better somehow. Less tired, a pale flush on his cheeks. The clothes he was wearing were a bit different from his working attire; they were more expensive and brighter in color. His hair was freshly cut, and the man smelled like aftershave. Almost like he was a normal person.
Subaru finished his drink and reached for the bento boxes, opening them and making a food spread. Some rice topped with umeboshi, tamagoyaki rolls, steamed veggies, and hamburger steaks. The veggies were awkwardly cut, far from Hokuto’s culinary prowess and the ability to make any food look cute.
“How has work been?” Seishirou stretched himself on the blanket, picking between a strawberry Ramune and a can of Coke.
Subaru shot him a look. The unspoken rules were: no discussing their prospective jobs, no mentions of where their relationship stood, no attempts to advance it, no mentioning of his sister, and no contact outside of the day of full bloom. But then, again, they never discussed these rules, so did they ever exist in the first place?
“Slow,” he muttered, “And yours, Seishirou-san?”
“Slow, as well,” Seishirou smirked. Subaru went through his bag and handed Seishirou the pair of chopsticks. They nodded to each other.
“Thank you for the food.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Sitting in silence, the couple chewed on tamagoyaki.
“The weather is quite nice,” Subaru said, not knowing what else to offer. The years of self-imposed seclusion didn’t help with his conversational skills.
“It is, isn’t it? The full bloom came quite early – all because of global warming. We are on fast track to complete destruction. Soon there might be no flowers to look at,” Seishirou winked, “All the more reason to enjoy this view.”
Some round dogs ran past, with bushy tails and tongues out. Playing in the patchy grass, the dogs were digging in the dirt, barking happily. Subaru smiled and watched them for a while, while Seishirou struggled with a bottle of Ramune, trying to push down a glass marble with no avail.
“Ugh… It’s really slippery, my hands got all sweaty. Can you help, Subaru-kun?”
Just as Subaru’s pale hand reached for the bottle, Seishirou grabbed it with his other hand, pulling the bottle away. His fingers were warm, nails neatly cut short. Subaru tried to imagine blood on them, tried to think about this hand as a weapon, but it was no use. Seishirou caressed his palm, soft pressure making Subaru look away in embarrassment. The Sakurazukamori mark stung lightly, like a fresh burn.
“You’re cold,” Seishirou smiled, “Do you want my coat?”
“No… no, it’s fine.”
“I should have brought some sake. That would warm you up.”
“I can’t drink alcohol. Messes up with my senses and technique. You know that.”
“Next time.”
Next time. Would there be a next time? Subaru opened Ramune with a loud click, and Seishirou scooted closer, pressing their sides together.
“What have you been up to?” A flash of a smile.
“Nothing much. Work. A lot of meditation.” A bite of umeboshi. Sour.
“Hmm. Sounds boring.” A sip of Ramune.
“It is. What about you, Seishirou-san?” A bite of a carrot. Undercooked.
“Work. But… I’ve been trying to take more leisurely walks. Enjoy the city.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Let me think… There has been an interesting exhibition I went to recently.”
Subaru raised his brows. “An exhibition? I never took you for an art enjoyer.”
“Well, you and I mostly bond over nice food. Hokuto and I used to visit a lot of art shows together.”
A bitter swallow of umeboshi, and he felt guilt rising in his throat with bile.
“There was a series of shunga works on display,” Seishirou continued, “I found them quite amusing.”
Subaru’s face heated up. It was a mean tease, and right after poking at his wounds. Grief, anger, heartbreak, and yearning mixed up altogether, overwhelming him. Breathing tensely, he let Seishirou take a bento box out of his hands, so he could finish the remaining pieces of hamburger steak.
“Thinking about this stuff made me quite hungry.”
Why did he even come? Why did he keep coming? It was one day in a year, a date of no consequence. Outside of that, nothing changed. Seishirou was still his sister’s murderer, a killer for hire, and a selfish, heartless man.
Was he betraying his sister by indulging himself in a stupid fantasy once a year? Maybe Subaru was leading himself astray. Maybe this was a mistake.
“This was a mistake.”
Seishirou’s smile dropped. He cracked open a can of beer.
“You didn’t have to come. But you still did. Why is that?”
“Because I wanted to see if you’ll come. Why did you come?”
They were still walking around each other, not ready to let go, pretending something could be salvaged from what happened. With everything that broke, Subaru would keep putting it back together, piece by piece, gluing it, hoping it would hold. It felt like all they did was play a stupid game – Seishirou would shatter a cup again and again until it was dust, just for Subaru to pick it up to make it into something again.
“I wanted to see if you’ll come. It’s like in that song: I was looking back to see if you were looking back at me,” Seishirou chuckled, “I think of you as my mirror, Subaru. Something I can always see myself reflected in. Isn’t that precious?”
But Hokuto was no cup. Hokuto was a dead girl.
His smile unnerved Subaru, made him want to punch the face wearing it. He stood up abruptly.
“Walk me home.”
***
As they walked down the empty streets of night Tokyo, Subaru glanced at their swaying shadows growing bigger and smaller under the street lights. At some point, Seishirou forced his coat on Subaru while he protested loudly, and he heard two teenage girls giggle while passing them.
The coat smelled of musk, and in the pocket were a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Subaru held a cigarette between his teeth, flicking the lighter and covering it with his other hand. Seishirou’s face was another cigarette away. So close, Subaru could see a small faded scar on his cheekbone. As they held the cigarettes to a flame and Subaru took a first drag, Seishirou grabbed his arm and kissed him, a small breathless peck.
A twist of an arm.
“Am I hurting you?”
When are you not, Subaru wanted to hiss, but he kept quiet. There was a knot in his stomach. He knew nothing would happen.
Seishirou kissed him again, now all teeth and tongue, and then Subaru pressed a burning cigarette to his arm, feeling a gasp against his mouth, almost like purring. They pulled away from each other.
“Was I a good date?”
“The worst.”
“See you next spring, Subaru.”
He wrapped himself tighter in the coat and walked backwards, turning away every couple of steps and then turning back. Every turnaround Seishirou’s face smiled at him. He was not getting his coat back.
As the shape of Seishirou got smaller and smaller in the distance, he expected him to turn away soon enough and leave.
But even when he couldn’t see his figure, as he walked and turned back, he could feel Seishirou watching – a mirror reflecting back.