Chapter 14

Reach out and Touch

Nowaki rang the bell and waited five minutes for an answer before letting himself in. He called out as he entered, "I'm home!" He could tell right away that the place was empty, both from the way the sound echoed back to him, but also from the stale smell of the air. No one had been here for several days.

He set his bags down in the living room, not quite certain whether he should unpack. He crept into the bedroom. The bed was unmade, but that told him nothing, only that Hiro-san was the last one to sleep in it, and he already knew that. He knelt on the floor and made it up neatly. He went out to the living room to get his bag and stopped in the kitchen for a glass of water. He spotted a note stuck to the fridge. It was addressed to him.

"Nowaki—
In case you come back, I'm staying with Miyagi until further notice. Go ahead and stay in the apartment if you want. Kamijou."

Nowaki closed his eyes and crumpled the note. He could feel the sharp edges on his palm. Hiro-san had anticipated what he had not: that he would be rejected by Noboru. How? He had not seen it coming. He'd been blinded by his own desire, his own fierce motivating fire. To save Noboru. But Noboru had said it: he'd only wanted to save himself.

So here he was. Completely alone, in worse condition than for many years. No lover, no one to come home to, no one to care for. He was so empty, he couldn't even miss Hiro-san yet. He could only look inward at the vast emptiness of himself.

He grabbed his bag, took it to the bedroom, and unpacked his things. He'd nap for a few hours until it was time for his shift.

******
"Aaaah, your shoulders are so tight, let me—"

"Get your hands off me, pervert!" Kamijou grasped both of Professor Miyagi's hands and pulled them off his shoulders, flinging them backward as hard as he could without causing himself to fall out of his chair. "Just because I'm accepting your hospitality doesn't mean you have permission to put your hands all over me at work! I'm a professor, not a sex toy!"

"Assiiistant Professor!" Miyagi corrected, dancing off to his own desk. He knew how far he could take things with Kamijou. Oh yes, he did. Quite a bit farther than he'd ever imagined. He laughed inwardly, as he sat at his computer and began an e-mail to Shinobu, who was probably at the library now, preparing for the college entrance exam.

Dearest Shinobu-chin,

Our little professor is safely ensconced in his favorite chair, having been sweetly welcomed by his stern and demanding mentor.

"Kamijou, does sukiyaki sound good for dinner tonight?" he called over his shoulder.

"Whatever!" was the answer.

Miyagi continued typing:

Study hard today.
Kamijou fancies sukiyaki for dinner.

Love, Miyagi.

He chuckled to himself, causing the hairs on the back of Kamijou's neck to stand on end, which would have delighted him, if he had only known.

******

Akihiko had taken a seat, because his legs were shaking. Sweat was beginning to soak into his collar. Panicked eyes stared down at the instrument, dreading what had to come next. He lifted his hand, and then let it drop lifeless into his lap. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

"Oh, come on, sensei, don't be such a baby! Pick up the phone and call him!" Aikawa's sharp voice fractured any sense of calm he had established and made him jump slightly. She picked up the phone and dialed the number, shoving the receiver into his face.

The phone rang on the other end. "H-hello? Is that Manami? How are you? It's been so long. How is everything? How is T-takahiro?" Akihiko listened for a while, then said, "Yes, if you would be so good." There was a brief pause, and Takahiro picked up the line.

"Takahiro, it's Akihiko. How are you?"

"Akihiko. What can I do for you." The chill in Takahiro's voice seemed to seep out of the earpiece into Akihiko's ear, making him shudder.

"I've found Misaki. He's fine."

"What? What? Where is he?" The rush of sound was overwhelming, and Akihiko held the receiver away from him for a second.

"I don't know where he's living, but he's attending the Culinary Academy, and they allow the public in to observe the classes every Friday. I've just been there, and it's him. So go there and see for yourself."

"What? Didn't you talk to him? Why didn't you get his phone number and address?"

"Takahiro, you don't understand. He doesn't remember me. He might not remember you, either. It's not a situation where you can just charge in and make things go the way you want them to."

"That's a laugh, coming from you."

Akihiko gasped and then took a moment to collect himself. "Yes, well, I suppose I deserved that, but nonetheless, I think you should take it easy with him."

"Just like you did?" Takahiro retorted.

Again, Akihiko paused. It was a brother's right to be angry, he guessed. "I'm doing my best. You do your best, too." He set the receiver down and looked up at Aikawa and let her stroke his head.

"You did it, sensei."

"Yes," he replied, "I guess I did."

Just then, Aikawa's cell phone rang. "I don't have to get that," she said, still stroking the author's head.

"Pick it up." He pulled away from her and stood up, headed for his room. To hide.

"Yes?" she said, pushing the "Talk" button. "Ohhh, Mr. Nakamura, how nice to hear from you!" She waved frantically at Akihiko, unnecessarily, for the latter had stopped dead in his tracks the instant that name had issued from her lips. "When can we arrange a meeting? How about if we meet you for dinner? There's a nice little café over near your school, Chez les Asperges. Why don't you meet us there tonight at 8:00? You'll need a jacket and tie, do you have those? No? Well, I have a spare; I'll bring you one. Sound good? See you then!"

She turned a face that was positively glowing to her client. "It's decided, sensei." She walked over to him and closed his two large, cold hands in hers. "Are you ready?"

There was no answer.

Kokiden here. I originally called this chapter "Forms of Communication," but as I recall it was one of the less popular chapters in the past, probably because of its dull title. I've noticed that "The Lawnmower" isn't getting as many views either, so I'm noticing that titles are important. But I don't want to change the title of that one. I think it's a hysterical image of Aikawa, even though it's probably way too American-suburban to be an appropriate metaphor for a story with a Japanese setting.

I noticed in my old notes that I was emphasizing that I do not hate Aikawa. I seem to remember taking hits for hating Hiroki and Nowaki as well. So let me say once more emphatically that I ADORE Aikawa. She and Miyagi are my favorite minor characters. I find them both funny and charming, and I love writing them. They both inspire me (to be evil).

Hiroki is another question. I don't hate him (I think it's only other Junjo fans' rabid love of Hiroki that made them think so), but I don't understand him either. I never could understand what was cute and lovable about someone who couldn't be honest about their own feelings, and I felt truly sorry for Nowaki for having to put up with his immature attitude.

I do like Hiroki as comic relief. I love him throwing erasers at students and looking ridiculous with his hair slicked back. So maybe I should have used him in this story that way; I could have loved him more. But that's all in the past! I see so many mistakes about how I approached this story, and at this distance, realizing the mistakes doesn't make me cringe. It just makes me realize what a complex, mysterious, and challenging process writing is. It also makes me a believer in multiple rewrites.