Chapter 2

Kitchen Man

Oh, his jelly roll is so nice and hot

Never fails to touch the spot

I can't do without my kitchen man.

His frankfurters are so sweet

How I like his sausage meat

I can't do without my kitchen man.

"Well, it's been a bit of a long haul, but it looks like you're finally well enough to go home." Nowaki had his scope out once more, shining its light into Nobody's eyes. He had to hold the young man's head steady and one eyelid open at a time, because the boy's natural reflex was to flinch away and close his eyes.

"Heh, heh. That's good," replied Nobody. Had the doctor forgotten that he didn't know who he was and therefore had no idea where home was?

Nowaki finished the exam. "So why don't you look happy?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really. I'm fine. Only, uh, only just…"

"Yes?"

"Where am I supposed to go?" Nobody felt a feeling rush through him, one that was vaguely familiar. If he was forced to describe it, he would have said it was the feeling of having lost everything and everyone that mattered to him and being cast adrift in a lonely world. It swept through him from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet, and before he could get a grip on himself, he felt a lump in his throat; his face contorted and tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes.

Nowaki placed a warm hand on his head. "So, you're worried about where you'll stay."

Nobody tried to control his crying, but it was as if something that had been shackled inside him was suddenly let loose. If he were honest, he wasn't sure of why he was crying. Maybe it was enough that he might have to live on the streets with no idea of how he could make money. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, until Nowaki offered him a tissue.

"Usually, a social worker will come and talk to you and help you arrange something," he said in his kindest tone.

"I—I didn't know that," Nobody sniffed.

"But you know what, I might have an idea that would work, and we could skip the social worker."

"What's that?"

"Well, why don't you come home with me? We get along pretty well, from what I can see, and there's a spare room at my place."

"What about your roommate? Don't roommates mind random patients showing up to crash?"

"Well, some roommates, but not mine." Nowaki smiled reassuringly. In reality, he suspected Hiro-san would be infuriated, but the sight of the lonely figure sitting in the bleak hospital room, face bruised, clutching a crumpled tissue as if it were his dearest possession, had struck Nowaki's heart with force.

Nowaki never spoke to anyone of the loneliness of being an orphan, but that didn't mean he didn't remember it well. If Nowaki behaved inexplicably at times, he knew perfectly well that it was the desire to never be so alone again that drove him; and at times, with certain people, this desire extended to protecting others from that isolation as well. It seemed that Nobody was one of those people.

As they emerged through the double glass doors of the hospital, Nobody felt Nowaki's reassuring hand on his elbow. The intern walked up to one of the cabs waiting at the hospital entrance, opened the back door and gestured Nobody inside.

"Oh, no, let's take the train. This is going to cost too much."

"You may be well enough to leave the hospital, but I'm not willing to take a chance on your getting dizzy and having a fall on the subway steps or platform. Let's take it easy for today. Besides," Nowaki smiled impishly, "My shift isn't over yet. I'm going to have to get back to work, and the subway will take too much time. So get in; the clock is ticking."

When it was put this way, Nobody had to concede. Rather than inconvenience his one and only protector and friend, he climbed awkwardly into the cab and moved over to make room for Nowaki.

"You feeling okay?" The amnesiac nodded. "Well, there's one thing we need to talk about on the way home. Well, two, really, but first, there's your name. I'm afraid that we can't just stick with Nobody anymore."

"Why not?"

"Well that has to do with item number two, my roommate, Hiro-san. Well, you should call him Professor Kamijou, to be safe. He's a college professor, and he's kind of finicky about names and things, and he'll be irritated if we tell him you don't have a name. Just trust me on this," he said, as Nobody gave him a questioning look. "Hiro-san is much easier to get along with if you just respect his idiosyncrasies. That was his book I lent you, by the way. He has a lot of them."

Nobody nodded. Nowaki seemed to like to talk about Hiro-san—Professor Kamijou, he corrected himself.

"So what would you like to be called?"

"Akihiko."

A very strange series of expressions crossed Nowaki's face when he heard Nobody's choice. At first he looked shocked, then dismayed, and finally, amused. In fact he seemed to be trying to suppress a laugh.

"That's the name of the author of the book you lent me," explained the boy who was still Nobody.

"I know, but it's—how can I explain? It's probably not the best choice." Nobody stared at him, confused. "Well, Hiro-san actually knows the author, so it might be a bit confusing."

"Oh, why didn't you say so? Well, then…how about Noboru?" Noboru was the given name of the main character of that book that he had tried to read.

"Much better."

"So what did you want to tell me about Professor Kamijou?"

"Well, he's kind of possessive of his stuff, so don't touch any of his books without asking. And…um…if he seems like he doesn't like you, don't worry. He just acts that way. He's really kind underneath."

By that time, the cab had come to a stop outside an ordinary-looking apartment building in a quiet neighborhood. Nowaki got out and helped Noboru out.

"Thanks, Dr. Kusama."

"You're welcome—Noboru."

Nowaki let Noboru into a decent-sized apartment that was full of light and sparsely furnished. Books seemed to line every wall of every room. There were even books in the kitchen. Cookbooks, Noboru hoped, his heart beating a little faster for some unknown reason. "Dr. Kusama, maybe you could let me cook, in payment for letting me stay."

"You know how to cook?"

"I think so." Noboru looked uncertainly at his mentor, then at the stove and utensils hanging near it. He could imagine the knife in his hand and the texture of the wooden cutting board. His hand tingled at the thought of holding the ladle. "It seems—it feels like I do."

"Well, that would be nice. Especially if you cook well, it would endear Hiro-san to you quite a bit. He likes to be fed."

"Who doesn't?"

"Over here is your room." Nowaki opened the door to a room that had a futon rolled in one corner and was otherwise given over to books and boxes. "Oh, dear, I'll have to clear a space for your things." He began shifting boxes, and Noboru pitched in and helped him stack the boxes so they took up less floor space. "That should do for now. And now—I hate to leave you, but I really need to get back to work. Hiro-san comes home around 7:00—I'll give him a call to let him know you're here, so he won't be surprised. And I'll be home around 2:00am, I'm afraid."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Tell Hiro, er, Professor Kamijou that I'll make dinner, okay?"

"Sure. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Get some rest! Doctor's orders!"

It was shortly after 7:00 when Noboru heard the key in the lock. A thrill of excitement went through him. Quickly, he tried to think how to greet the apartment's real resident while he gave the stew he was preparing a stir. "Hi, I'm Noboru Nakamura, I hope Dr. Kusama told you about me." No, too casual. He had said this Kamijou character was a bit of a stickler. Here he was! He held his breath as he heard shoes being taken off and left at the door and sock feet padding their way toward him.

They continued padding by and disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Noboru set the low table in the living room with two place settings.

"So you're the amnesiac?"

Noboru jumped and then turned and saw a beautiful man, a man with soft, reddish hair, a beautiful, pale complexion, and a flexible, slender figure. He was dressed in jeans and a soft, short-sleeved shirt, and he had a very wary look on his face. Noboru bowed deeply and said, "Sorry for intruding! I am Noboru Nakamura, and I am making dinner!" He remained in the bow until he heard a snicker, then he straightened up. Kamijou appeared to be laughing. Noboru smiled cautiously.

"You cut quite the figure there, young Mr. Nakamura," replied his unwilling host. "Nowaki tells me you don't remember anything about who you are."

"Yeah, that's pretty much the whole story, from beginning to end." Noboru smiled wryly. "The doctors said that until my memories start coming back, I'll just have to start over."

"And that means…?"

"Well, I guess I'll get some training, since I don't even know what I did for work before I lost my memory. I can't just be a burden on the state…or on nice people like you and Dr. Kusama. So I guess they figure they'd better train me so I can be useful."

"Believe me, nice people like me and Nowaki are not going to put you up for very long."

"Nossir!"

"So what kind of training do you think you'll take?"

"Well, they have you take an aptitude test, and then based on that, they train you in something it doesn't take too long to learn. Um, I'd like to try training as a chef. I guess I must have known how to cook…before…because I know how to make this stew, and it seems like I have a lot of other recipes in my head."

"It smells good."

"Thanks, sir."

"You don't have to call me that. Professor Kamijou is fine."

"Thanks, Professor Kamijou."

"Right, well, I have some papers to grade, so let's eat so I can get on with my work."

Dinner with Kamijou was tense, and Noboru had the feeling he wasn't making a very good impression on the professor. When they had finished eating, he hurriedly cleared the table and washed and put away the dishes. Then he slipped into his room and went to bed after a quiet "Good night" to his host.

In the darkness, the door slid open, and Noboru's eyes snapped open, and he saw a shadow in the doorway of the unfamiliar room. He watched the door arc and click closed, and he glanced at the clock that sat on top of a pile of boxes: it was 3:00am. He closed his eyes and turned over. He drifted back into a dream.

He was awakened again, fifteen minutes? an hour? later. Muffled sounds penetrated through the door, voices, repetitive syllables. Chanting, he thought at first, in his dream-soaked state, but then it came to him. What he was hearing was the grunting of two people giving each other pleasure.

His eyes flew open as he realized that meant he recognized these sounds as what they were. What did that mean about him, his own experiences? He stared at the ceiling. He must have some sexual experience, then. Yes, that felt right, just as when he looked at the cooking utensils, he could feel their heft in his hands, he could not only visualize the sex act, but he could feel it with his body. The sensation of penetration, that hot, burning, aching, erotic feeling.

Penetration. Noboru broke out in a sweat. No. Not that. Cool hands all over his body, touching here, there, touching his—no.

More importantly, he thought, panicked at the insistent memory of the touch of a—no! more importantly, if he remembered this, did that mean that he was in a relationship? A gay—a relationship with someone? Could it be someone was looking for him, worried about him?

His sense of panic increased. Someone out there suffering because of him. What could he do? He didn't know who it was, how to find them. He didn't even know if this person existed, but his body knew. His body was telling him. Someone out there, waiting for him, worrying over him, crying for him. Someone whose body knew his intimately. A man.

The sounds went on: no, they grew louder and more intense until Noboru lay there, sweating and imagining, no, remembering what it felt like to have an orgasm with another man's cock up his ass. And wondering who and where that man was.

"What's this?" Akihiko picked up Kamijou's attendance record for his Basic Lit class.

"It's an attendance sheet. Put it down," Kamijou replied irritably. Akihiko had been spending more time than usual in his office. He could only assume that his boyfriend had dumped him, because he hadn't seen Akihiko this much since those two had hooked up.

"I didn't realize attendance was a requirement at university level."

"It is now. It seems there's pressure on some of the less popular departments to show we're worth the money spent on us, so the Dean is requiring us to document attendance. I do it as a matter of course, however." He plucked the sheet out of Akihiko's hand. Akihiko looked up at him morosely.

As a matter of fact, one or two of his students had been slacking lately and had hardly shown up all week. Kamijou chuckled to himself. These kids would find out whether that was a good idea or not when it came to their final grades.

"Can we have dinner tonight?"

"Can't. Nowaki invited a stray home, and I have to be there to make sure he doesn't steal the silver." Akihiko stared blankly at him.

When he woke up in the morning, Noboru heard sounds in the apartment. Someone was washing dishes. Noboru pulled on clothes, trying not to think about what he'd heard in the middle of the night, and certainly not what he'd realized about himself.

Nowaki was making coffee when he walked in.

"Good morning, Noboru."

"Good morning, Dr. Kusama. What are you doing up? Didn't you come in late?"

"I don't usually sleep that much. Do you want some coffee?"

"Yes, thanks."

The men sat in the living room to drink their coffee.

"When are you going to have the vocational test, Noboru?"

"Not until the end of the week."

"In the mornings, why don't I take you around the city and make sure you know enough to get around before you have to go out on your own?"

"Would you really? That sounds great!"

They got their jackets on and headed out the door. Nowaki showed Noboru the way to the closest subway station, pointing out landmarks along the way to help fix the route in Noboru's mind. He also pointed out the number and destination of the line they took and had Noboru study the map of the subway line as they rode three stops toward the center of the city.

"Where are we going?" Noboru asked, as they climbed the steps up to the street.

"You'll see," replied Nowaki, smiling mysteriously. He led Noboru into a men's clothing store.

"What, do you need clothes?"

"No, but you do."

"Oh! But I don't have any money. Only 3,000 yen." Noboru blushed. It seems as if he was the kind of person who was embarrassed by being poor.

"Let me buy you a couple things."

"Oh, no, I couldn't, Doctor. You're already doing so much for me!"

"How are you going to get a job without clothes, and how can you pay me back if you don't get a job?"

"Well, I guess you're right about that."

They left the store an hour later with two bags. Noboru felt a warmth in his chest that was half shame, half happiness. He was thinking about how he would start cleaning up the apartment when he got back to show his appreciation, when Nowaki took his arm and spoke to him.

"Notice what intersection we're at," he said, pointing out the street signs and a McDonald's on the corner. "From here, we're going to cross at this street toward that news kiosk and continue down one block." As he said so, the light turned green, and he led Noboru across the street and then down the way he'd indicated. They arrived at a park. A vendor was selling hot dogs, and Nowaki bought two, handing one to Noboru. They sat on a bench and enjoyed the American-style food, chatting quietly.

Over Nowaki's shoulder, Noboru watched children playing on some equipment. There was a sort of merry-go-round that moved in a circle. The children clung onto it, while other kids spun it around. There were shrieks of laughter and cries as small hands loosened and flew off the whirling structure. Other children climbed up a ladder to descend a slide. Mothers sat on a nearby bench and chatted.

Nowaki realized that Noboru wasn't listening, and he turned around to see what the younger man was looking at. "Do you want to go watch?" He stood as he spoke, gently pulling Noboru to stand, placing an arm around him to urge him forward. The two men stood and watched the children play. Noboru felt Nowaki's shoulder against his. A memory of the night before flashed in his mind, and he moved away, just enough so they weren't touching anymore.

The children had jumped off the merry-go-round and were now fighting over sand toys. Nowaki strode over and took a running jump onto the turning structure and sat while it spun slowly. He waved at Noboru, grinning madly. Noboru waved back, then ran after him and began pushing the merry-go-round, making it go faster and faster, till Nowaki was going around at a good clip. He managed to sit so he could brace his legs against the metal bars, and on the next round, he leaned out and captured Noboru under the armpits, pulling him onto the machine with him.

"Whoaaa!" Nowaki was laughing wildly as he pulled Noboru onto his lap, clutching tightly onto him. Noboru held on for dear life, afraid to slip and fall and maybe hit his head. Nowaki just held tight onto him, as Noboru listened to his laughter floating out above him. Noboru buried his face in Nowaki's jacket and while holding the other man tightly lost himself in the sensation of spinning around while being held: chaos and order, fear and comfort, danger and safety. Something shifted inside him suddenly, as if a memory was awakening, but it was gone before he could grab hold of it.

Nowaki let him off the merry-go-round once it slowed down to a gentle pace, and the two walked back to the subway station, shopping bags in hand, with Noboru in the lead.

The subway was crowded on the way back, and Noboru and Nowaki stood pressed together among the mass of passengers. Nowaki noticed now Noboru's bruised face only came up to his shoulder. Nowaki had a view of Noboru's scalp as he gazed down at the young man, whose body was pressed so tightly against his. The scalp shone through in places, so tender and pale against the dark hair. Kind of like Noboru himself, something very fragile protected by an exterior that seemed ready to break apart and expose him to harm at any moment. The boy's torso pressed up against his as the car jolted, and an office lady lost her balance, jostling Noboru. Nowaki steadied Noboru with his hands, secretly enjoying both touching and being touched by him. He knew it would be wrong to seek Noboru out, but there was no harm in enjoying this kind of incidental touching.

For his part, Noboru was fighting back panic at being squeezed in so tightly with all of these people. He tried very hard not to think about what would happen if he needed to leave the car for some reason. He concentrated on the rough feeling of Nowaki's jacket against his cheek, the smell of the outdoors still clinging to the fabric over Nowaki's own smell of disinfectant and sweat. He closed his eyes and breathed in; he was relieved when Nowaki caught him when someone jostled him from behind.

The days eased into a routine soon enough. Noboru found that routines were very good for him. The more things that happened on a regular, scheduled basis, the more new information he found he was able to take in. It was as if his brain could stop worrying about what was going to happen next, which freed it for learning new things.

The daily excursions with Nowaki continued. Nowaki took him in turn to each of the major districts of the city, allowing him to use different subway lines and stops, walking along the major streets, taking in landmarks along the way, building up his knowledge base. Noboru found that some of it was familiar. He waited for the moment when a shop, restaurant, building, or statue would awaken a memory from his previous life.

Nowaki seemed to like playgrounds and parks. There was one on the itinerary every day. Yesterday he had taken Noboru to a park where a group of old men were playing with an air rocket. They had greeted Nowaki warmly and had welcomed Noboru into their group. They had played with the rocket for hours and shared beers with the young men.

Today, Nowaki had taken him to Hama Rikyu Garden, a botanical garden. They wandered through the trees, walking silently and companionably. Now and then, Nowaki would point out a flower or tree to him and murmur its name. It reminded Noboru of how Nowaki pointed out landmarks on the streets. He didn't know if the names of trees and flowers had been lost with the amnesia or if he hadn't cared about such things in his previous life.

It seemed as if the number of times when Nowaki's arm accidentally brushed his, or shoulder grazed against him, was increasing, but Noboru didn't want to think about whether it was purposeful. He wanted to drift in this dream with his new friend, pretending that Tokyo was a world that Nowaki had brought to him. He sneaked a look at his companion: his face was peaceful and happy, a slight smile on his lips as he wandered slowly among the greenery. This face, this smile had become synonymous for Noboru with human warmth. He knew it was illogical and maybe even dangerous to develop an attachment to this man, when he was virtually the only person in his new, empty world. But Noboru couldn't help it. It seemed his heart craved contact, and Nowaki was the only one providing it.

Professor Kamijou had lived up to his reputation of a fussy and difficult man, and he had continued cool and sarcastic toward Noboru, who thought the best plan was to find a place of his own as soon as possible.

They had wandered into a small grove of trees. It was cool and quiet, the sound dampened by a carpet of previous years' fallen leaves, mashed into a soft loam. Suddenly, Nowaki took hold of his arm and his face was leaning down, his lips looming close. His fingers came and plucked something off Noboru's cheek. "You have a leaf," he said, showing it to Noboru, who felt a heat go through his face and down his whole body.

Noburu stepped back. "Sh-shouldn't we be going back?"

Back at the apartment, Noboru worked on organizing the room where he slept, taking things out of boxes and putting them away in closets or on shelves. There were kitchen items, clothes, knick-knacks, and books. Always more books. Noboru had found more novels by that author, Akihiko Usami. They always had the same effect on him: he would become dizzy, and his hands and feet would start going numb. But he'd also noticed a strange sensation that he could only describe as a wind blowing through the back of his mind. It gave him goose bumps.

Nowaki appeared in the doorway, dressed in a turtleneck, jeans, and lab coat. "You know you don't have to do this."

"I want to. Until I get my training started and get a job, it's good for me to have something to do. And it helps my pride, knowing I'm not just sponging off of you and Professor Kamijou." Nowaki's eyes slid to the side at the sound of his lover's name. He suddenly appeared awkward standing there, his hands just hanging by his sides.

"Well, I appreciate it."

"No problem—I—" Just then, a box, which Noboru had been stretching up to take off the top of a pile, tipped over and began to fall on top of him. Noboru raised his hands up, but the box never fell. Next to him stood Nowaki, shielding him. He propped the box up in his hands, then carefully took it and lowered it to the floor.

"Are you okay?" Noboru looked up, and found himself enfolded in Nowaki's arms. He tried to free himself, but Nowaki held him tightly.

Nowaki couldn't resist. Finding himself so close to Noboru, after days of being by his side but unable to do more than occasionally touch his arm or brush up against him, he had to hold him. He had told himself it was all right to enjoy their incidental contact, that there was no fault in this innocent happiness of touch, that the joy he found in reintroducing Noboru to life in Tokyo was that of a teacher with an eager and able student. But now that he was standing so close to Noboru, after finding a reason to breach the distance once more, their bodies so close, he fell all the way. He took Noboru in his arms, and slowly, slowly, he lowered his face to the younger man's, and allowed his lips to find those other lips, those sweet, soft lips, and he felt his heart rush up to meet the lonely heart of Noboru.

Nowaki's kiss was sweet and warm. Noboru felt as if he was melting, his whole body growing softer and more wobbly the longer that Nowaki held his mouth. Finally, Nowaki withdrew a little, and Noboru struggled again to break free of his embrace. Once more, he felt the conflicting emotions he had on the merry-go-round: exhilarated but frightened, comforted but captured.

But Nowaki had a lover. The image of Professor Kamijou, the sounds that Kamijou and Nowaki made at night, the knowledge that Noboru was a guest in their home intruded. Noboru placed a hand on Nowaki's chest and pressed, gently. "You're his," he thought to say. But what came out was, "You'll be late."

For dinner that night, Noboru prepared grilled fish, rice, sautéed cabbage, and pickled vegetables. He and Kamijou ate in silence as usual, Kamijou reading a book the entire time, Noboru making sure he had everything he needed without intruding on his peace. Noboru watched him. His brow furrowed as he read, or he raised his eyebrows, gaped, sneered. Kamijou was amazing; Noboru had peeked at his books, and they were much more difficult than The Moon in a Box and the other works of Akihiko Usami. Noboru marveled that anyone could find so much to react to in these difficult and abstract books.

This was the man that Nowaki had chosen. Noboru felt tears welling up in his eyes; he blinked to suppress them. There was no point in crying about it. This was how it was.

He hadn't realized as he had left the hospital at Nowaki's side that one of the first lessons of his new life would be so bitter.

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