Disclaimer: It's Maki Murakami's sandbox; I just play in it. I do not own the series or the rights to these characters nor do I make any money from them.
Rating/Warnings: M for profanity and sexual references
Summary: Eiri returns to his boyhood home with Shuichi in tow. Will his father finally accept their relationship?
Word Count: ~2,400 words excluding introduction and endnotes.
Going Home
Written for LiveJournal's 30_kisses writing challenge community. Theme: #20, the road home
I hadn't been home in years when Tatsuha called asking me to come home for the Bon festival. [1] I was immediately on guard. Mika's usually the one who badgers me to visit, not Tatsuha.
"Why should I come? You know why I don't. The old man does, too."
"He told me to tell you that you can bring Shuichi with you."
Shuichi was the reason I didn't visit anymore. My father the Buddhist monk disapproves of my relationship with him. Not only did he break up the engagement with Usami Ayaka which my father had arranged, but he masqueraded as my intended and berated my father for his intolerance. For that he got banned from the old homestead. Eventually I decided if he wasn't welcome there, I wasn't either.
"What brought this on?"
"I don't know. Maybe he wants to bury the hatchet."
I snorted. That was fine, just as long as he didn't want to bury it in me. Or Shuichi.
"Tell him this had better not be a setup. He'd better be polite to him."
"He told me he'll be polite as long as you are."
I wondered what brought on this desire for reconciliation. A religious awakening? Or was something really wrong with the old bastard and that's why he wants me to visit?
"Is he sick?"
"Huh? No more than usual. Look, I don't know what brought this on."
"Make sure Dad understands that we'll be sharing my room. If he's going to acknowledge us, he's going to acknowledge us the way we are. No putting Shuichi in your room for appearance's sake." Besides, after what happened the first time they met I wasn't sure I trusted Tatsuha alone with him anyway. [2]
"You gonna share a futon?" he asked.
"No, you fucktard," I said. "One futon isn't big enough for both of us."
"Why do you need two futons? He doesn't take up much space."
"Not that it's any of your business, but I sprawl and take up too much room. He'd have nowhere to sleep."
"From what I hear the two of you don't spend much time sleeping, aniki." The last word was said in that venomously polite tone he uses when he's trying to get under my skin.
"Look, Tatsuha, don't fuck around with me, or I'll tell Dad about your complicated love life. Have you told him yet about hitting on your English teacher? [3] Or your fifteen girlfriends?" [4]
There was dead silence on the other end of the line.
"Thought so. If there aren't two futons in my room when we arrive we're turning around and driving back to Tokyo. Make sure the old bastard knows that."
"It's your funeral, bro," he said and hung up.
***
I could tell Shuichi was nervous on the drive from Tokyo to Kyoto because he talked incessantly. About the band, about the cat, about anything but our visit. And he bit his fingernails.
He hadn't objected to visiting, however. If anything he was happy and relieved that it looked like my father was willing to accept him, or at least accept the fact that he was a part of my life that wasn't going away.
I told him to be as polite as my father was.
***
When we got there my father was in the temple holding a service. I went to look at my room. There was no point to dragging our bags in if we were going right back to Tokyo because my father hadn't listened to me.
Tatsuha popped his head in. "There's an extra futon in here like you asked, aniki. Dad made me drag it and the extra blankets in here."
"Good for him," I said. Just for that, I told him to give Shuichi a hand bringing the bags in and I sat on the floor.
He snorted. "Who do you think you are, ordering me around like that?"
"Your older brother."
Tatsuha disappeared. He must have listened, though, because he reappeared behind Shuichi carrying my bag.
***
When the bald buzzard appeared, he inclined his head – I wouldn't exactly call it a bow – and said to Shuichi, "Welcome to our home."
Shuichi responded, "Thank you for inviting me, sir."
Dad crooked his finger at me, commanding me to follow him. "I'd like a word with Eiri."
Shuichi said, "Sure," and looked at me, puzzled. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't know what it was about either.
I followed him outside and we walked down the path leading from the house to the temple. He kept his eyes on the path, as if he didn't already know the way.
"Are you happy, son?"
"What?"
"It's a simple question. Are you happy?"
Why was he asking me this? "I'm as happy as I'm going to be, I guess."
"Hn."
"Why are you asking?"
After a few seconds pause, he said, "Because if he truly makes you happy, then…." His voice trailed off.
"Then what?" I asked, suddenly annoyed with him, with everything. Was this what he dragged me here for?
"If he truly makes you happy, then…I'm glad something does." He walked into the temple and left me behind.
***
Shuichi frowned at me as I pulled down his shorts. "Is this really a good idea?" he asked.
"Just shut up," I said. His yammering was interfering with my concentration.
"But Yuki—"
"Shut up," I said more fiercely as I started rubbing his sensitive spots. "The more you talk the louder I'll talk and that will definitely upset my father."
He hunched over in a gesture of surrender and said, more quietly, "Won't this upset your father more than talking loudly will?"
"It depends on how loud you are, brat."
He sighed. I had him there. He was the one who had a hard time controlling his decibel level when I did the kind of things I was doing to him then.
"Besides," I continued, "I want him to understand the nature of our relationship. I want him either to accept us fully or not at all. If that requires me to rub his nose in it, so be it."
After that I was too preoccupied to speak. Shuichi, on the other hand, exercised considerable restraint and barely made a peep, although his ability to breathe seemed compromised given all the soft, quiet panting he was doing.
***
Tatsuha gave me a funny look while I made breakfast. For a change, Shuichi was still in bed, sleeping, while I was the one who was awake and moving about.
"Are you trying to get Dad to kick you out?" he said.
"Obviously not hard enough," I muttered, "or we'd be out on our asses already. We weren't quiet enough last night for you?"
Tatsuha sighed. I swear I don't know what it is with this place. First Shuichi, then Tatsuha.
"You were quieter than usual," he said begrudgingly, "or perhaps I should say that Shuichi was quieter than usual, but anyone with half a brain who was listening would have known what was going on."
"Father dearest has half a brain? In that case he shouldn't be listening."
"Mika's going to be arriving at noon."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"She'll come down hard on you if you give the old man a hard time. She really wants you two to patch things up."
I thought 'come down hard' was an unfortunate choice of words, particularly as applied to one's sister, but I refrained from saying so. "Do I owe this sudden olive branch to her, then?"
"I don't know. Dad approached me first, not Mika, so it might have been his idea and he just talked it over with her. But…don't blow this, aniki, or I may be stuck doing everything around here."
My stomach clenched. Tatsuha is an annoying pain in the ass but sometimes I forget how much I owe him. My life would be far more miserable than it is if Tatsuha weren't willing to take over the responsibility for the temple that by rights should have been mine. That would have been mine if I hadn't refused it.
If I hadn't had a younger brother, or if he hadn't been willing to take this burden on, I would either be trapped or disowned because my unwillingness would have meant an end to the centuries-old tradition of Uesugis operating the local Buddhist temple. I suppose another successor from outside the family might be found, but my father would be disgraced, I would be disowned (not that I'd have cared), and my name would be mud around the neighborhood. Or at least muddier than it already is.
I wanted to sigh but it seemed pointless to add to the chorus. "I'm sorry," I said to Tatsuha. "I know it sucks for you to get stuck with all this and I do appreciate it even if I don't always show it."
Tatsuha ducked his head at the unaccustomed apology. "It's okay, ianiki/i. I actually don't mind that much. It's the training that's the worst part. The mindless, numbing…"
"Watch out," I said in warning. I'd seen a flash of robe in the hallway.
Sure enough, my father stepped into the room. "Good morning, boys," he said. "Let us thank the Buddha for the blessing of another day."
I felt like gagging, but I limited myself to clearing my throat in a manner that could be interpreted as supportive or snide. Tatsuha, that suck-up, placed his hands in a prayerful attitude and bowed from the waist. Brown-noser.
My father crooked his finger at me and told Tatsuha he had dibs on the first cup of coffee. This crooking a finger at me act was getting old quickly.
"Yes, Dad?" I said as we headed out the doorway. He went outside and sat down on the iengawa/i by the living room, well away from the bedrooms.
"You like to try my patience, don't you?" he said.
I feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you mean, Dad," I spit out. "What patience?"
He laughed hollowly. "You are trying to get me to throw you out."
"I doubt it. I'm not doing an especially good job of it if you haven't done it yet."
"I don't need to hear you talk about it or hear interesting noises coming from the next room to know what it is you and your lover do with each other."
"Really, Dad? Because I'm surprised you're familiar with gay porn."
He sighed and shifted his weight. Not him too. This sighing must be contagious. "I don't know what happened or what I did wrong--"
That got me angry. "Stop right there. You know very well what happened. First you rejected me for not looking Japanese, then you rejected my mother because I might not be yours, then you slept with other women right under our noses while your wife and our mother was dying. Then I went to New York and thought I was happy until I murdered my rapist tutor and his accomplices. You criticize ime/i for drinking and smoking and being a philanderer when, let's face it, you've done all of those things your entire adult life."
He ignored most of what I'd said but fastened on the one that mattered to him. That day, at least.
"You're not a philanderer anymore," he said, almost sadly.
"What?"
"He's cured you of that. You don't sleep with other people. Just him."
"What, Shuichi? He didn't cure me of anything."
"I notice you're not denying that you're faithful to him. I know how hard that must be for you. After all, you're your father's son."
And with that he left for the temple, leaving me behind, stunned and puzzled. Was he saying that he was willing to accept Shuichi, willing to hold out an olive branch, because I'd settled down since he moved in with me? Leaving aside the question of who told him I'd stopped sleeping around, why did that matter to him?
Then it hit me. His question from the day before. "Are you happy?" He was dreaming if he thought that I'd stopped sleeping around because Shuichi makes me happier than anyone else does.
* * *
That night we stood on the banks of the Kamo River watching the five bonfires blazing on the hills around Kyoto lighting the way for the spirits of deceased family members to return to the spirit world. In the press of all the people around us, I held Shuichi's hand.
Mika moved to my other side and put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Eiri," she said.
Sorry for what? I assumed she was talking about our mother. After all, the purpose of the holiday was mainly to commemorate her.
The Bon Festival marks the annual return home of the spirits of one's deceased loved ones. At the end of the holiday they return to their abode in the spirit world. The theory is that if they have been properly welcomed during their visit they will continue to be at peace for the following year.
It's something of a morbid holiday, but Kyoto has made a big celebration out of it. Nowadays it's more of an excuse for family reunions, dancing, and partying, but not in our household. Dad led a short service in my mother's memory earlier that day and the ibutsudan/i shrine in the house had been open all day. I caught Shuichi looking at my mother's photograph.
I didn't want to talk about it.
* * *
When we returned to the temple compound we sat around on the engawa and talked until late. Shuichi and I were so tired we went to sleep almost immediately. There were no noises to disturb my father's slumber as they had the previous night.
The next morning we ate a hurried breakfast and got ready to leave. My father made a point of seeing us off.
He bowed politely to Shuichi, who bowed back just as politely. "Thank you for visiting, Shindou-san," he said. Then in a low voice he said to him, "I am glad you make Eiri happy. Please take care of him."
Shuichi's eyes shone. "I will, sir," he said as he straightened up.
I rubbed my eyes and thought I was dreaming. Did I actually hear my father wish Shuichi well? Tell him he makes me happy? I wasn't awake enough to bother disagreeing with him, and besides, who was I to spoil the moment for Shuichi?
We didn't talk much on the way back to Tokyo, but I could tell Shuichi was elated. Maybe the old bastard isn't such a bastard after all.
I guess we'll be going home to Kyoto more often.
Glossary:
aniki – older brother
engawa – porch, veranda
butsudan – Buddhist altar, usually set into the wall with shutters, a door, or other closure so it's only open when it's being used. Such altars usually contain remembrances of departed relatives, such as Eiri's mother.
* * *
[1] Bon festival – Holiday of Buddhist origin honoring the spirits of deceased ancestors. Celebrated in the Kansai region, which includes Kyoto, in mid-August and in mid-July in the Kanto region, which includes Tokyo.
[2] Volume 2, Track 8.
[3] See TehKusoGaki's story "Don't Stand So Close to Me".
[4] Volume 2, Track 8.
Thanks and gratitude to my beta HawkClowd.