Manjoume knew he should have said something earlier. He had been in denial, maybe; hoping that the Manjoume Group's resources could get him some miracle cure, some untested trial, some quack remedy known only to housewives in some backwater village. He was receiving the best possible care, yes, but it was palliative care and on days like this, it just wasn't enough. He doubled over in pain and clutched at Fubuki's sleeve to keep from falling in the street.
"Manjoume-kun!" Fubuki supported his suffering friend and looked down in concern. Manjoume wrapped an arm around Fubuki's waist, managing to wrench himself upright. His face was pale, noticed Fubuki, and his lips oddly twisted in mockery of the soft smile he usually wore in Fubuki's presence. Then Manjoume retched, hard, the spasms wracking his body and juddering through Fubuki's own.
Fubuki guided Manjoume to a nearby bench and sat the two of them down, rubbing Manjoume's back as he fished in his pocket for his phone. Manjoume laid a hand over Fubuki's wrist and managed to croak out "No".
"I don't like the look of this, Manjoume-kun." Fubuki's thumb was already over the call button on his phone, but still, he paused at Manjoume's instruction. "I think we should get you to a hospital."
"No point," said Manjoume, now resting his fists on his knees, curling his fingernails into his palms in an effort to distract from his mutinous body eating itself from the inside out. He swallowed, trying to keep the bile down. "Could you possibly get me a glass of water, please?"
"Of course." Uncertain about leaving Manjoume alone even for a moment, Fubuki managed to catch the attention of a young lady, sending her off to the nearby cafe.
Manjoume smiled wryly, with difficulty. "Even pushing forty, you've still got the magic, Master."
"I must have the kindly father figure thing going on." Fubuki smiled back.
"You don't have any kids." Manjoume concentrated on the conversation, on keeping relatively upright and on the reassuring pressure of Fubuki's hand running up and down his back. "Why haven't you married yet? Any girl would have you."
Fubuki gave Manjoume a sidelong glance. "I guess I never met one who could measure up to -" He trailed off as his young assistant returned, thanking her and holding the plastic cup for Manjoume while the other man fumbled a couple of pills out of their foil packaging. The girl hovered nervously for a while until Fubuki dismissed her with a few quiet words and a smile.
Manjoume took a swig of the water and grimaced. "Does this taste funny to you?" He noticed Fubuki's cautious sniff at the cup and added, "It's okay, I'm not infectious."
"Seems okay to me." Fubuki handed the cup back after a small sip.
Manjoume sighed and popped one of the pills in his mouth, gulping it down with water and resisting the urge to throw it straight back up. "Nothing tastes right any more. Not even water, which is supposed to taste of nothing."
Fubuki sat quietly while Manjoume swallowed the second pill, waiting for him to continue. His heart had been steadily sinking for some time and was now apparently somewhere in the vicinity of his thighs, judging from how weak his legs felt.
"It's cancer." Manjoume spat the word out quickly, afraid that otherwise, he'd find some way to put off telling Fubuki as he had in past months. He felt a pause in Fubuki's gentle strokes and leant in to his master's shoulder, desperate for the comforting touches to continue. Fubuki's arm settled around Manjoume's back, his hand now running up and down Manjoume's upper arm. "Stomach cancer. But they didn't catch it early enough, and it spread."
Fubuki turned his head, nuzzling into Manjoume's short, greying hair to hide his eyes from view. "Is there -"
"No." Manjoume pre-empted the rest of the question. "I've already had surgery, radiation, the works. And even then, it was just prolonging the inevitable."
"Why didn't you tell me earlier? " Fubuki said, his voice catching.
Manjoume shrugged and let Fubuki draw him in to a full, if somewhat tentative, hug. It hurt a little more, but he bore it. Fubuki probably needed the contact as much as he did. "I've come back from so much else better and stronger, I guess I didn't think this would be any different. And I see you so rarely now. Thought it might put a damper on things."
"Yeah, I guess it did." Fubuki sighed.
"Aren't you going to ask how long?" Manjoume watched the bustling plaza, people scurrying around heading for shops and restaurants and dates, all of it now forever alien to him.
"No." Fubuki immediately regretted his sharp answer. "I don't think I'm ready to know, sorry."
Manjoume stood, a little unsteadily. "I'm tired. I should go home."
"I'll drive you." Fubuki got to his feet, but Manjoume waved a hand to decline the offer.
"There's a limo waiting." Manjoume met unexpected resistance as he started walking. Fubuki was tugging at his sleeve.
"Manjoume-kun." Fubuki's face was taut, the laughter lines now barely visible at the corners of his serious brown eyes. "Is there anything you want to do, later? Like, um, visit the pyramids or dance in the rain?"
"I'll think about it." Manjoume's lips curved upwards just slightly. "Send you a list, if you're saying you'll come with me. It won't be easy playing nurse."
"But you have to admit I'll look good in the outfit."
They had retreated to the library in the Manjoume family mansion, it being one of the rooms the older brothers rarely set foot in. Fubuki thought the room smelt stuffy, and the high-backed chairs Manjoume and he were currently sat in forced him into a stiff, unnatural posture.
"Beat Judai?" Fubuki raised his eyes from the handwritten note and chuckled. "You really do hold a grudge longer than anyone else I know."
"It's not a grudge." Manjoume crossed his arms and looked away. "It's justice. I'm a way better duelist than him and he knows it. I bet that's why he's not responded to my email."
"Right," Fubuki said slowly, deciding to let that one go. "Well, we'll see Judai when we see him, I guess. Have you told him?"
"No." Manjoume fiddled with the cuff of his shirt. "The only people that know are you, my brothers, Junko and Kaoru. Well, sort of. I'm not really sure she understands, yet. And my agent."
"It might speed Judai up a little if you did," said Fubuki quietly.
"Maybe," said Manjoume with a scowl. "But I can't take any more pity. The looks in their eyes... I'm okay. I'm coping. I don't want people walking on eggshells around me."
"People care about you, Manjoume-kun. Don't you think they deserve to know?"
"I've told everyone that really matters."
"Oh really?" Fubuki said sharply. He grabbed Manjoume's shoulders and twisted his upper body, forcing him to face Fubuki. "Well, it certainly took you long enough. And you don't get to be the arbiter of how people feel about you. Judai, Asuka, Shou... We all have the right to -"
"The right to make me feel like trash?" Manjoume hung his head, his eyes in shadow, and choked the words out. "Let go, you're hurting me."
Fubuki's hands dropped to his sides. "The right to say goodbye."
"I'm not gone yet, don't talk about me like I am." Manjoume turned away again, not willing to look Fubuki in the eyes given the anger in his voice. "I can't take this from you, Master."
"Then you're not okay, and you're not coping." Fubuki leaned in, wrapping his arms around Manjoume's back to pull his head to Fubuki's chest. Manjoume's hands gripped the soft fabric of Fubuki's shirt. "Please don't feel you have to bear this alone."
"All right," Manjoume screwed his eyes tightly closed, still trying to keep the visible signs of emotion locked up. The angle of his body was giving him pain, but he wasn't ready to relinquish Fubuki's hold just yet. His voice came out thick and muffled. "I'll tell them, because you asked. But let me do it in my own time, please."
"Sure." Fubuki blinked back the prickling behind his eyes. It was some time before they moved.