Chapter Eleven – Magic Lost Sugar

(Thanks for the reviews, people!  Hmm, Kaneda doesn't seem to be very popular…

Kaneda: Can't understand why *cheesy grin*

Kaneda, Kaori, Tetsuo, Kai and Yamagata are Katsuhiro Otomo's.  Tenchi and Hiroshi Shimura and Mari are mine.  (As are Chiyo, Hiroko and Mrs Shimura, but somehow I don't care so much about them.))

***

Kaori sat in her bed, watching Tetsuo as he dressed.  It was dark in the room, and he was a silhouette, patches of skin milk-pale in the night, occasionally the glint of an eye.  Fractured Tetsuo. 

            "Where are you going now?" she asked at last.

            "Riding, duh.  Where else can I go?"

            Part of her wanted to say you can stay here for a bit longer, but she knew he'd only sneer.

            "With the others?" she said at last.

            "No."

            Tetsuo picked up his green jacket and shrugged it over his shoulders, then marched over to the door and had vanished into the dark, silent landing before Kaori could speak again.

            She sighed, and lay down flat in the rumpled bed, which suddenly felt too big and cool with just her in it.

            She wanted to start crying, burst into ridiculous baby howls that the other girls would hear and snicker about behind her back. 

            Instead she gritted her teeth and blinked a lot.  And then, as a concession, let a few tears pool in her eyes, and her mouth crumple.

            If only he would stay longer.  She didn't mind listening to him talk!  She didn't mind just sitting with him, she didn't mind doing things for him, or walking, or anything, but if he'd just stay and not keep leaving so quickly –

            She'd been so happy that time behind the lunch hall, she'd thought it meant she'd been forgiven.

            Well, maybe she had been.  Maybe she was just being dumb as usual and this was all normal.

            But he was acting so cold.

            And he was angrier.

            And now they only met up at night, in between him grabbing something to eat and going out on his bike.  At school he practically ignored her.

            Mari kept saying she should retaliate, but she wasn't going down that road again.

            At the thought of it, she remembered Kai, and wondered where he was.  If he was okay.

            Then she remembered what he'd done to her – he'd made Tetsuo become so cold – and she found herself shuddering, and deep down she cursed him and hoped he was dead.

***

It was dark, and it was raining.

            Kai sat in bed, his arms round his sheet-covered knees, and watched the light glare on the grubby walls.

            Quiet night.  Most of the rooms were silent.

            Maybe even in Neo-Tokyo people weren't so desperate they'd come out in the rain.

            And of course Yamagata wouldn't be that desperate.  Because he was happy in his passionate best-friend lovey-dovey relationship with Kaneda, damn him.

            And you don't want him here anyway because he's dangerous.

            Kai closed his eyes a moment, and listened to the hiss and crackle of the rain outside. 

            If only there were more sounds.  More people.  Any people.  He always felt less sure of himself when he was on his own.  The silence clung to his ears and made them ache.

            But there were sounds.  The rain.  The floorboards.  Footsteps above him, and the groan of the ancient heating system.  Outside, the traffic-hiss, and faint music, and the buzz of neon lights.

            See?  Lots of sounds.  No need to get antsy.

            But not the right sounds.

            The right sounds would be someone coming in now and, and we could just sit and, and be together, and oh shit this is sappy even for you…

            He didn't want to imagine it, because it made him feel too stupid.

            But just sitting and listening didn't help either.

            And do you remember the corridor?  So dark, anything could be in that dark.  And there's no one in the flat, no one at all, and Mum's shoes are gone, and you can't reach to open the curtains, so it's always dark and the city's so loud at night, you never knew before…and there's always footsteps in the walls…and when you look round there's no one there…

            You remember…

            Blurred, still memories.  Six-year-old badly focused memories.  Kai didn't see why he needed to dust them off. 

            Think of some other sort of memory instead.

            You want Yamagata so bad, let him be a memory, not a dream.  Memories are safer.

            All right.  Go back five years.

            He'd been sent to the quiet room in the children's home, for – for what was it?  Breaking something.  Probably on purpose…he'd been ten or so, and going through a phase of it.

            Funny how he couldn't remember exactly what had happened.  Only afterwards, sitting at a desk facing the wall, which was white chipped paint, hands spread flat on the table.

            The silence again.  Kicking his feet against the chair legs. 

            He didn't like the silence.  It made him feel like screaming.  Or breaking something else.  But the quiet room was empty.  Four desk and chairs, at each of the compass points, and nothing else.  One was for the supervisor.  The others were for people who were too loud.

            Yeah.  He remembered sitting there, watching the line where the wall met the ceiling.  High walls, smooth as ice.  And wanting to tear at them, cover them with rude words in marker pen, smash them like they were made of sugar.  Real anger, kid-anger, strong as a punch in the stomach.  Not like this rage he had now, which was diluted with sadness and fear and shame and all sorts of random shit.  No. 

            No clock.  And silence which wrapped around him like clingfilm, and he wanted, needed to yell out to tear it up…

            And, he remembered, and then the footsteps.  Two pairs, out of step.

            And then he took a deep breath and felt the air relax around him.

            And shouting now.

            And the spark of joy he'd felt when the noise had stopped outside the quiet room and then forced its way in.

            "Listen to me!  You have been here – what, four hours, and already you've managed to get yourself in trouble –"

            "So what?  You can't make me do nothing!"

            "While you are in this establishment you'll obey the rules –"

            "I'll do what I damn well want!  Get off my case!"

            And the shouting filled the room and he breathed it in, and smiled, and then looked round to see what was going on.

            One of the helpers stood glaring down at a boy who looked about his own age, maybe older.  The helper was red with rage, her hair was straggling loose from its ponytail, and her voice was growing hoarse.  The boy was scowling, and yelling just as loud as her, but Kai could see he was on a roll, and could probably go on all day if he felt like it, and grinned.

            "Chiyo, I'll deal with it," the supervisor of the quiet room said.  "Who's this boy?"

            "His name's Yamagata," Chiyo snarled, the way most people would say 'His name's Satan'.  "Fine.  You deal with him, because the rest of us sure can't.  He's the most unco-operative, rude, insolent, foul-mouthed –"

            The boy – Yamagata – was mimicking her, rolling his eyes and mouthing 'blah, blah' – Kai snickered, and Yamagata heard, and grinned at him.  His hair was tangled, and his fringe hung in his eyes, but the grin was an infectious one, and Kai smiled back. 

***

And then?

            Finally allowed to leave.  Outside the corridor was stuffy, he remembered it being a fluff-coloured grey blue.  Their feet squeaking on the lino, step out of step.  The rain wrinkling the windows around them.

            He wanted to say something clever.  Something funny, something that made him look good.  He wanted to be the centre of attention, and he wanted Yamagata to look at him and think hey, that guy's cool.  He'd never wanted anything like this so badly before, and it was scaring him because he knew he wasn't going to manage it.  His feet were slipping slightly on the damp floor and he was wearing a grubby old T-shirt and trousers that any dull old kid would wear, and he'd just been getting punished and made to sit still like some little baby.

            No idea why he was so desperate, yet.  His ten-year-old self had figured it was because Yamagata was tough and cool and had made him laugh.  His fifteen-year-old self, watching the memory, wasn't sure.

            Anyway.  The more he thought about doing or saying something, anything, the harder it seemed to be.  Even speaking would be too complex.  So he walked in nervous, hot silence, knowing time was oozing away and if he didn't do something, anything, then he'd lose out –

            "So what were you in for?" Yamagata said.

            Kai jumped.  "Huh?"

            "Why'd they got you in that room?  What did you do?"

            "Oh, y'know, nothing much.  Broke summat.  What – what about you?"

            "I said I wouldn't eat cabbage is all.  Man, they get mad real easy here, don't they?"

            "They think they're so great," Kai said, more confident now, because he knew about this place.  "Once you're not a cute little baby any more they figure it's always your fault."

            "Oh yeah?  How long you been here then?"

            "Uh…since I was eight, I think…before that I was in another place, but they didn't take kids older than eight."

            "How old are you now?"

            "Ten."

            "I'm eleven," Yamagata said, rather smugly.  "I just came out of a foster place.  They got mad easy, as well.  Freak out when you do anything."

            "I never got fostered."  Kai wondered if it sounded too pathetic, and quickly added, "Who needs it?"

            "I gotta go find out where they put my stuff," Yamagata said.  "I'll see you around, okay?"

            He turned to go, then said, "Hey…where's your mum and dad?"

            Kai swallowed, and said, "They, um, died."  It sounded like a lie, so he quickly added, "In a car crash."

            Yamagata scowled, and for a moment he looked too angry to be eleven.

            "My mum's a crackhead," he said.  "Dumb bitch."

            "Oh."

            "What's your name, anyway?"

            "Kai."

            Not Kaisuke.  Not at the moment.

            "Kai.  Okay.  See ya."

            And he was gone.

***

Kai felt his hands curling into fists.  Now he remembered.  He remembered what he'd done to get put in the quiet room that time. 

            In the classroom.  Cold Formica table tops, and the smell of sharpened pencils, and kicking chair legs again as he'd tried to work out how to add fractions.  Grey light.  Afternoon and the taste of ham sandwiches in his throat from lunch.  Someone's voice, some girl, Hiroko, that was it.

            "Hey, Kaisuke, what did happen to your parents, huh?"

            He'd probably said one of his old lies again.  He had several.  It was fun to make up stories, and even when people wouldn't believe them, they didn't know the truth.

            Except this time.

            "You're a big fat liar, because I heard Yagami-sensei talking about you, and she said your parents just walked out and left you and no one knows what's happened to them."

            "I –"

            "And all that stuff you said about them coming back for you's a lie as well, cos they left you so of course they don't want you any more!"

            The rage that took over then hadn't even been eleven-year-old rage.  It had been six-year-old, or even younger –his brain had been swallowed up in burning red tearful fury, and he'd torn the vase of wilting holly branches off the windowsill and flung it at Hiroko's head.

            Yeah.  That was how it had happened.

            He was tensing even now, and wishing he could go back, do it different, actually hurt her, because the vase had smashed at her feet, and she'd just stood and shrieked.

            But now he was fifteen, and so was she, wherever she was.  He hoped she was fat.  And ugly.  And had six kids. 

            It was one a.m.

            If only someone would come.

            He kept thinking of Yamagata, mind hopping from year to month to day to memory after memory.  Maybe it would conjure him up.

            But if he did come, then there'd be trouble, because…

            Kai ran a finger down the buttons of his shirt, and thought he could feel the largest scar burning under them. 

            He wasn't showing them to Yamagata ever ever no way –

            And yet.

            What was wrong with wanting someone?

            He still wanted Yamagata even if he was dreading it.

            One-fifteen.

            Yamagata.  Or anyone.  The silence was suffocating.

***

Meanwhile, Yamagata eased himself out from under Kaneda's arm, and slid his hand free from Kaneda's fingers, and crept around the room, pulling on his clothes.

            He told himself he didn't need to be quiet, but even so he bit back a curse when he stubbed his toe on the side of the bed.

            Kaneda wouldn't mind.  Just a fling.  Nothing bad would happen even if he did find out.  Nothing bad was going down now, either, no one cared.  He muttered the thoughts to himself in his head, gripping the door and edging it open so it wouldn't fly back against the wall.

            Kaneda muttered something, and rolled over.  Yamagata shut the door on him, and hurried down the stairs.

***

Two o'clock.

            Kai lay still.  And the silence was starting to drown him, and he knew it because he kept slipping back into memories –

            So thirsty. 

            Shouldn't have finished all the juice.

            Mummy needs to buy more and she's not here…

            She'll come back she's got to come back she's got to –

            Milk in the fridge.  Yeah.  Not hard to find, is it?

            The kitchen.  Silence, one dripping tap, his footsteps, maybe someone was watching him from behind the door –

            No.  No one there.   

            The fridge had been too high up.  The freezer came first, and the door of the fridge, where the milk was, was a mountain high above his head.           

            Mummy says I can't stand on the stool…

            But I need a drink! 

            The stool had been old, rickety, it wobbled alarmingly even when you sat on it, and smelt of ancient tea stains.

            He'd dragged it across to the fridge door, and climbed onto it, his feet scrabbling at the sides, and then knelt, heart squashy in his chest, too terrified to stand up because he could feel it sagging under his weight –

            Don't know what to do –

            Mummy where are you –

            And then eventually he'd forced himself to try and stand up, one foot flat on the seat, then the other, and then slowly, slowly, forcing himself up, the world trembling but then standing straight –

            And it was nice to be so tall – he'd stared out over the kitchen, entranced by this new look at it – when you were this tall you could see people coming – there was definitely no one hiding behind the door –

            Open the fridge door and there's the milk. 

            He was being clever!  Getting a drink all by himself.

            He'd reached out for the bottle, but the stool was just a bit too far away.  And if he got down and moved it he might never get back up again.

            So he leaned forward, and stretched out his hands, and clutched the cold, damp surface of the bottle –

            Just as his fingers closed round it, the stool overbalanced, and he fell.

            The stool landed with a crash.  The milk bottle burst on the ground, and white liquid flew everywhere, and he landed heavily in the pool of it, and felt the broken glass tear into his arm, and started screaming, mostly in terror at the bright blood oozing from the cut –

            And then, as he screamed, he realised no one was going to come.

            And that was it.

            They've got to come – I've broken something – been really bad – they've got to come yell at me –

            Blood and milk, cold and I'm all wet and I'm in trouble for sure, why aren't they here?

            Because they don't want you.  Because you're stupid and bad and mummy always said she hated you and wished you weren't here and so she's gone away.  Your fault.  She liked him better than you.

            But I got hurt – no one? – no plasters or anything – I don't know what to do –

            He'd lain there, still sniffling, for ages, the milk cold and smelly.

            If I get up then they definitely won't come but if I stay they might do.

            He'd not thought that so clearly.  Just a feeling that he couldn't move.

            That had been the second or third day, right?  The milk had soaked into his skin, and later it had turned sour and the whole kitchen had smelt of it.

            The smell and the taste of milk still made him feel sick.

            Oh please shut up, he begged his mind, running back into the present; the damn silence –

            And then, oh thank you thank you, Kai heard footsteps, confident, rhythm up the stairs, and sat up, cursing himself as he did because it was pathetic to be so hopeful –

            The door opened, and Yamagata looked round it, his hair rat-tailed and his clothes speckled with damp, and Kai forced himself not to look happy.

            Actually, he wasn't sure what the hell he was meant to be doing.  Half of him wanted to tell Yamagata to get out and never come back, and half of him wanted to throw himself into the other guy's arm and give him all the time he could.

            Neither option seemed right, so he just sat still, hearing the silence stretch, and not meeting Yamagata's eyes.

            "Uh…you open for business?" Yamagata said at last.

            Kai shrugged.  "They let you up here, didn't they?"

            "Yeah."  Yamagata walked into the room, closing the door behind him.  "But you're looking at me like I'm a ghost."

            "Whatever.  We gonna do this or not?"

            And suddenly his shirt seemed heavy as carpet on his skin because this was no way gonna work out –

            He found himself fiddling with the collar of it.  And Yamagata must have seen, because he said, "I'll do it if you'll take that off."

            "I can't."

            "Then fine."  Sudden anger.  "I'm out of here, then.  I don't need to hang around weirdoes.  You can explain to your boss why I didn't pay you."

            And he turned back towards the door.

            Kai leapt off the bed and hurried towards him, and put his arms round Yamagata's waist, and Yamagata stopped, not going not staying – could still leave – leave any minute –

            "Don't," Kai said, resting his head against Yamagata's back, and breathing in the smell of sweat and rain and damp T-shirt.  "We can – compromise, okay?  I'll do anything else.  Anything you want.  I don't mind.  But please not this.  C'mon.  It's a fair deal, right?"

            Yamagata stopped, turned round to face him, and Kai slowly let his arms fall back to his sides.  They stood, almost touching, but not quite.

            "Anything?" he said.

            Kai nodded.

            "You really are desperate.  You don't know what I'd ask for."

            "After a while you figure you've seen most stuff."

            Yamagata stared down at him thoughtfully, and suddenly Kai felt tears sting his eyes, and cursing himself, he gazed at his feet, and the dusty carpet. 

            Stupid.  Stupid to cry, just because now he knew Yama wasn't a friend because a friend would just say whatever, keep your shirt on, I don't care…wouldn't take the deal…

            "Let me kiss you."

            "Huh?"  At first Kai wondered if he'd misheard.  He kept his eyes on the carpet all the same.

            "You deaf or summat?  I said, let me kiss you."

            "What – why?"

            "You didn't last time.  And I tried and you turned your head away."

            "So what, I don't normally kiss customers…"

            "Yeah, well, I want to kiss you."

            "And here was I thinking you'd want something really wild –"

            "Are you gonna let me or not?"

            Kai nodded, and looked up now, fixing a don't-care expression on his face, hoping his own eyes weren't tear-stained at all.

            I don't kiss.

            But he'd let Yamagata, wouldn't he?  He'd let Yamagata do anything.     Yamagata put his hands on Kai's shoulders, and kissed him.  It was a slow, luxurious kiss, tasting of rain.  Done by someone who knew he didn't have to worry about it – didn't have to worry about anything –

            Sure, you can hate him, but why're you feeling so tingly now he's doing it?

            Drown in the taste…pretend he actually likes you…strong mouth, strong as falling, and press close…touch every part of him…

            Kai reached up, wrapped his arms round Yamagata's neck – don't think of what's gonna happen next – just this – just this forever –

            This forever?

            I could love you –

            And now you're really pathetic.

            He broke free from Yamagata, and said, "Okay.  Now we can –"

            "I hadn't finished."

            Yamagata kissed him again.  This time tongue, this time fiercer, sharp as a pinch or a wave slapping your face, and this time Kai wanted to wriggle away. 

            "One kiss, okay?" he said at last.  "That was the deal –"

            "There ain't no deal," Yamagata snapped.  "You know I could get out any time, I don't have to put up with you having secrets.  And I don't get why you're minding anyway, you've done this before –"  He kissed Kai again. 

            Kai closed his eyes for a moment and kissed back, sending a jolt of pleasure through his chest, and then he remembered Yamagata was not a friend, not a boyfriend, and wrenched his head away.

            "Stop it," he said, and he was surprised to hear how angry his voice sounded.

            "Why?  You're the one with a crush."

            "I don't have that any more."  Like chicken pox, or a cold, part of his mind reflected.  "I'm over you, okay?  Know it's hard for you to accept, someone don't want to fall at your feet, but that's the way it is."

            "You're a crap liar, Kai."

            "I ain't lying.  I just don't like people playing power games."

            Yamagata shuffled his feet, and now he glanced down at the carpet.

            "S'not a power game," he said at last.  "I just wanted to kiss you is all.  Why does it bother you?"

            "Because I don't kiss, you deaf or something?"

            "You kissed me that first time."

            Shit.  "That – that was – different."   

            "Why?"

            "Why're you so damn nosy all of a sudden?" Kai yelled.  "Huh?  You don't want me around any more, remember?  I don't know what the hell you're actually doing here because being – this – is gross and dumb and I'm fucking stupid, remember, that's what you said, and you're supposed to be with Kaneda and you're not and I don't know what the hell's going on –"

            "Look, I just wanted some fun.  If you don't want to give it to me, I'll go to someone else.  Like that Tenchi guy you know.  He wouldn't get all weird.  And he's okay with kissing."

            Yeah, Kai's brain told him.  Yeah.  Let him go find Tenchi.  Tenchi's smart, and he doesn't have any problems.  He can deal with it. 

            But if Yamagata went away, there'd be silence again –

            And even now, after everything that had happened, he still wanted him – to be close to him – to be touched – and that wasn't a choice, that was cos of some weird warm glow in the back of his mind that wouldn't let him stop caring –

            But you could still tell him to get out –

            You could face the silence –

            No.  No I couldn't.

            Coward.  Baby.

            He shivered, and looked up into Yamagata's eyes, and his own were suddenly stinging again. 

            "Well?" Yamagata asked.  "Don't get stressed.  It's no big deal, okay?  I was bored is all."

            You bastard!

            Tell him to leave – wipe that stupid smirk off his damn face – because he knows you want him to stay – he knows you're desperate – he knows you're scared – he knows you're pathetic –

            No – I can't –

            Well, at least have some dignity.

            "Whatever."

            Kai was impressed with himself.  His voice had almost sounded normal.

            "You might as well stay," that calm, aching voice continued.  "Ain't nothing else going on."

            He took Yamagata's hand, and led him towards the bed.  His heart was thumping hot, twitching gasps, and even if his mind was still crying his body was laughing at what was going to happen.

            As they fumbled with their clothes, Yamagata reached for the buttons of Kai's shirt.

            Kai shook his head, and so Yamagata kissed him, forcing his head back; he opened his eyes for a second and the light stung them.  Drops of sunlit milk.

            He closed them again and watched the colours bulge and burst in the darkness behind them.

           

***

And the days were passing, and suddenly only the nights made living worth it.  He slept when the sun shone and tried not to awaken, not to think.  Food tasted dull, and the sunlight made him sleepy. 

            But when it grew dark he woke up, because Yamagata returned, not every night, but enough times, and Kai's mind slipped away from the rest of life, and hoped, and waited, and refused to consider anything else.  It liked remembering instead.  It liked remembering Yamagata glowering round the doorway the second time he'd come back.  It liked remembering the dry skin on his palms, and the anger and the strength of his mouth.  The musky smell of his hair and the patches of suntan on his body and the muscles under his skin and the occasional smile and his breathing next to Kai's ribs and –

            Stop.

            Yamagata was one of many and nothing more.  Just because they'd once been friends…so what?  And just because Yamagata made him shiver, made his insides hiss and simmer and burn with excitement, just because – no reason.  Not important.  Don't care.

            You let him kiss.

            It's a trade-off.

            It's dumb.

            Why?  He's happy with it, isn't he?  There had been no more questions about shirts.  And a kiss meant nothing.

            Liar.  Liar!  You can switch off with other stuff.  You could cut your mind free of what the rest of you was doing, but mouth to mouth you were kidding yourself he actually gave a damn. 

            So what?  I told lies before.  It's no big deal.  It gets you through and that's it.  No problem.  Don't care.

***

Now it was the sixth time Yamagata had come back.

            It had been a quiet night – rain again – and Yamagata had come in looking tired, and now he was stretched out on the bed, dozing.  Kai knew he should wake him up, tell him to get out and move the queue along, but the fact was there was no queue tonight, and also, keeping quiet and still meant he could lie curled up against Yamagata and imagine – imagine things were different.  Even if every so often he did have to keep grabbing his mind and wrenching it away from particularly sappy thoughts.

            But it was okay just to lie still and feel them breathe together.  Even through his shirt, which he was suddenly desperate to rip off.  He was this close to Yamagata and even now couldn't be naked.

            But he could still look.  Yamagata wasn't wearing anything, and Kai was grateful to lie there and revel in that fact. 

            It wasn't just plain lust, though.  Well, okay, it was, but…it was also like…being able to be close.  To know that Yamagata had a scar on his shoulder and another just above his hip.  To see where his suntan faded and the newer, paler skin began.  To feel him breathing.  To just be with him and not be arguing or manipulating each other, just being together…

            This couldn't last, this warmth.  Any moment Yamagata could get up and leave and things would go back to normal, because they weren't friends now, they weren't anything, and there was nothing to keep them together.

            He kept telling himself that, but he couldn't stop himself moving a little closer to Yamagata, to bask some more.  Warm as a pavement in summer. 

            "Yamagata?" he whispered.  "You know, you should wake up soon."

            There was a long silence.

            Then Yamagata whispered back, "I am awake, dumbass.  But you seemed to be making yourself comfortable so I figured why spoil the fun?"

            Kai blushed slightly to have been caught out, but said, "Sounds good to me," and stretched out, and rested his head against Yamagata's shoulder. 

            Now could be a time to ask proper questions.  Things like why do you keep coming here?  Or am I still just some dumb whore?  Or what about Kaneda?

            Oh, come on.  He wouldn't make this into some big deal because it wasn't.

            But he would try for one thing.

            "You doing anything tomorrow?" he asked.

            "No."

            "You – you could come here again.  If you wanted."

            There was a long silence, and Kai listened to their breathing and the footsteps outside and the mutter of traffic, and half-hoped Yamagata would never answer because he didn't need the rejection –

            "Sure," Yamagata said at last. "Why not?"

            "Really?"

            "I guess so."

            "Great!  Uh…I mean, cool."  And he was suddenly grinning.

            Far away, back in the rest of the world where it was cold, he could hear footsteps.

            "Kai?"

            He looked up.  Tenchi was standing in the doorway.

            "What are you doing?"

            Um – uh – nothing.  Uh –"  Kai sat up, suddenly blushing, and feeling too hot.  "Yamagata – you gotta go – uh –"

            Yamagata sat up, and started to reach vaguely for his clothes.  "Sure, sure.  No hassle, okay?"

            Kai watched him dress, and wished Tenchi had left them alone a little longer.

            "See you tomorrow?" he said as Yamagata headed towards the door.

            "Yeah, yeah.  See you."

            Tenchi stood aside for Yamagata to leave, then walked out himself, slamming the door behind him.

            Kai let himself fall back onto the bed again, and sighed.  The sweat was evaporating on his skin, and the air was cooling.        

            There was no need to feel bad. 

            The only problem was –

            The only problem was –

            Now there were two people he kissed, Yamagata and Shimura, and maybe that was stupid, but he liked it…Stupid?  Yeah, because Yamagata was only meant to be a customer –

            The only problem is I think I'm getting a crush on him again.

            That had to be quite a big problem.

            He should probably tell Yamagata to go find someone else once in a while.  Remind him that once he'd arranged to go with Tenchi instead, you know?  Or mention Kaneda…

            You could do it.  Remind him Kaneda is his friend and leader and fellow rider and you gotta be loyal.  Kai knew Yamagata.  Yamagata didn't have many morals, but he knew how you should treat your friends. 

            He should have done that.  Not gone and made a date (no, not a date, an arrangement, a meeting, a…just not something that sappy) for tomorrow.

            But it was too hard to talk about the real world when Yamagata was actually in the room with him.  It'd make him look stupid, like he was trying to act like a grown-up by having a quote-unquote relationship talk.

            And there wasn't any relationship.

            There was some stuff, sure, lying around like dead flower petals, but there wasn't a relationship.

            Kisses.  And hugs.  And lying together afterwards.  And snuggling. 

            And enough sappy words in your head to fill up a truckload of Valentine's Day cards. 

            My brain is turning into mush.

            But hey, you could worry about this later, drag it out when you hated yourself and needed something to remind you of how pathetic you were. 

            For the moment you could lie back on the bed and smile and start counting the hours because he'd be coming to see you tomorrow, and now didn't the world taste good?

            Why should I care?

            Tenchi walked back up the stairs.  His feet struck each step hard, and sent judders running through the creaking banisters.

            Why should I care?

            But why Kai?  Why would Yamagata go for someone like Kai, who was so little and pathetic and average-looking and strange, huh, you tell me that? 

            Kai didn't deserve anyone as cool as Yamagata, that was for damn sure.  Kai knew nothing about making yourself look good.  Kai knew nothing about playing hard to get.  Kai knew nothing about sex, all he knew was what other people had done to him, he was following their lead and if it made someone else feel good it was just luck.

            And he wasn't even doing anything right.  I mean, come on, to lie there, snuggling and resting your head on his shoulder!  So clingy.  So weak.  So weak he can't even stop cutting his wrists when the least little thing happens. 

            And we had a plan, but no, he's got to go do his own thing, because he figures his crush is more important –

            Tenchi took a deep breath as he got to his room.  The anger tasted foul, burnt his throat.  No need.  No need to get so mad at Kai, who had enough problems of his own –

            And Yamagata won't come back to him –

            Will he?

            He might.

            He's getting something out of it.  He looked all shagged out when you came in, didn't he?

            No one's ever said no.

            Not even since school, had anyone ever said no.  Hormone summer, when the boys had grown gawky and sulking, and the girls' blouses had suddenly started to fit worse and their legs had stopped being pale, strong things to help them walk and become long, smooth, tanned, like trails of honey, part of the artillery of attraction.

            And people had been curious, fumbling, there had been incidents, flirtations, and Tenchi had watched scornfully because he knew all about sex because his brother Shimura Hiroshi had been fucking him for like a year already.

            Hiroshi, sixteen years old and deep in the jungle of puberty, with vines of greasy hair scattered across his forehead and spots breaking out on his face like the screams of parrots.

            Hiroshi who had always hated him.

            Oh, everyone said they hated their brothers and sisters, but Hiroshi meant it.  Hiroshi watched for weakness. 

            Hiroshi at ten, snatching the last cookie, breaking it in half, and saying Hey Tenchi, you want this piece? and holding it out, and just as Tenchi reached for it, cramming it all into his mouth and smirking through the chocolate smears.

            Hiroshi at twelve, tripping him up and then kneeling on top of him, knees on his wrists, and pinching his back and neck, nipping the flesh between two fingernails and twisting it until he screamed.

            Hiroshi at sixteen –

            But no.  No need to reminisce.

            Their mother put a stop to the things she knew about.  Hiroshi was grounded and his pocket money was stopped and once, after some particularly bad thing, he was locked in the cupboard under the stairs for five hours and came out pale with swollen red eyes.  He'd been ten then.  Tenchi must have been four.

            So okay, Hiroshi hated him for real, but his mother loved him for real as well, and she'd always take his side and he knew he was safe with her. 

            Or thought.

            Hiroshi went to ground after a while.  No more destruction or hissed insults or kicking or tripping up.  Just watching, and trying to be out of the house a lot, and every so often something to keep his brother thinking.  Like 'accidentally' scattering drawing pins across the floor and then forgetting to mention it.

            And then that time, a hot summer afternoon with their mother out at the shops, and Hiroshi, sixteen, had said come up to my room, I know a new game, and dragged his little brother along by one arm

            And then they'd played that game, and Tenchi figured neither of them had stopped playing it since.

            Only a game.  Always only a game.

            Kai still believed games mattered.  Kai still believed there'd be something after you stopped playing.  As if Tenchi didn't know Yamagata was just horny –

            Then why isn't he coming to you instead?

            Just a game.  Just a game.

            And so, in hormone summer, when his classmates had got giggly and nervous on the threshold, he'd known he was already way past that stage, and so he'd been able to say to Karusawa Miyako come into the stock cupboard with me, I know a new game, and they'd played awkwardly, yelping, surrounded by boxes of staples and piles of sharp white paper, with chinks of light jammed in round the edges of the door.

            Others had been drawn to the game.  Shimura Tenchi was good-looking, and charming, and pretty mature for a boy, and he didn't brag afterwards.  Well, only subtly.

            When was the first time he'd said I'll do it if you give me two thousand?

            Or maybe some girl had offered the bribe.

            Only a game.  Only a game.

            But while at school he was the team captain, at home –

            Hiroshi hurt him. 

            At school, the atmosphere was giggly and nervous and none of it mattered, but at home, the sunlight was bright with hate.

            A dangerous game.  Too dangerous.

            A private game played in the dark, because what did Hiroshi say?  Mum will kill you if she finds out and you'll be in real trouble.  She'll say we're disgusting and she'll kick you out of the house and you're so young no one will give you a job.  You're so pathetic you'll die out there, anyway, first cold weather and you'll be crying and no one'll listen, you do know that, don't you?  Same old dirty clothes and you'll eat the old McDonalds people throw out and you'll smell and you'll get sick and everyone'll see how gross you really are.

            Besides, it's only a game.

            But surely they'd be caught out soon.

            It's only a game.

            Maybe he'd wanted to stop playing when Hiroshi was involved. 

            It's only a game.

            He'd got scared!  Pathetic.  Fourteen now, and knowing he might get away with this, because Hiroshi was going away to college (two years too late but hey) and he could stop playing.

            Then he'd been caught in the stock cupboard with Fuyutsuri Mei, and the school counsellor had asked too many questions – said she'd contact his mother –

            Don't tell don't tell don't tell –

            It had been a rainy day, and he'd run home, knowing if he didn't do something he'd be out on this hard, wet pavement tonight, cold, he'd always had a weak chest, he could get sick, he could die, and it was so cold, cold that gripped him with its teeth.  And the house had been empty and he'd known he had only a little time left – didn't want to be cold – Hiroshi wouldn't stand up for him, and his mother would be so angry –

            They said drinking warmed you up.  If he got sick and went to hospital, maybe they'd let him stay awhile and he'd have somewhere to sleep…

            And so he drunk a bottle of vodka, and eaten a whole jar of sleeping pills.  The vodka burnt down his throat like drinking acid, and the pills tasted of chalk.

***

He didn't choose to remember being roughly revived.  Stomach pumps.  Noise.

            His mother, sitting by his bed, and suddenly she wasn't his mother, she was a miserable middle-aged lady who was too old and too sad to cope any more.  She hugged him.  It made his shoulders ache, and her nails left marks on his skin.

            Hiroshi sat behind her, watching. 

            They asked Tenchi, what made you do it?  Problems at school?  At home?

            His mother had cut in then.  It couldn't have been home.  We're a very happy family.  Tenchi is a well-loved child – it couldn't be –

            Hiroshi, behind her, had turned white.

            He'd asked for some time alone with his dear little brother, and as Tenchi had lain rigid in the hospital bed, thought-whispering desperately it's only a game, it's only a game, Hiroshi had hissed to him, you tell anyone about what we did and they won't feel sorry any more.

            How d'you know?

            I'm older.  Trust me.  They'll just look at you and say 'so?  That's nothing.  There must be a real reason.'  And when you say there isn't, they'll call you disgusting and they'll send you away.

            It was still raining.

            At home it was even worse.  The rain kept everyone inside.  His mother clutched him to her bosom several times a day, and his brother watched, waiting for college to start, and passing the time with games.

            His mother still expected him to be her little Tenchi.  She didn't know he'd grown up, and she didn't know she'd hate to touch him if she knew the truth.

            Get out of here.

            Hiroshi was going to college in Neo-Tokyo.

            At the age of fifteen, Tenchi hitched a ride with him and then left his brother in the daylight while he walked into the night.

            Playing the game at school had been fun. 

            In Neo-Tokyo it was even better, because people were desperate, for thrills, for passion, for pleasure, because this city couldn't rest and no one cared what happened at night.

            Money and a place to sleep.  Hiroshi couldn't take that away from him now.

            I've been through much more than Kaisuke has.

            He's done nothing to deserve Yamagata.

            I'm not letting him win.  I can win every time now and I'm not letting him beat me.  I won't let him I won't –

            Tenchi lay flat on his bed, and knew these thoughts to be gospel, irreversible truth.

            It was righting a wrong to pry those two apart.      

            You shouldn't have started playing, Kai-kun, because I know way more about games than you.

            It would be easy to hurt Kai.  He'd seen Kai hurt before so he'd know exactly what to expect.

            He leant over the side of the bed, and scrabbled for his mobile phone.  Then he dialled Hiroshi's number.

            Ten rings.  Then –

            "Hello?"

            "It's me."

            "It's…half past midnight.  What the hell do you want?"

            Tenchi grinned.  Man, he loved it when Hiroshi got tense.  "I thought you might like some info on Kai."

            "You told me nothing's been happening."  His brother yawned.
            "Well, I lied.  You know Yamagata?"

            "Yes."

            "He's been coming to see Kai every night for the past two weeks."

            There was a long silence.  Hiroshi's breathing echoed down the line to stroke Tenchi's ear, and Tenchi moved the phone away from himself.

            "Shit," Hiroshi said at last, sounding a lot more awake now.  "We've got to stop this."

            "I'm up for it, if you are."

***

In a small, neat apartment in another district of Neo-Tokyo, Hiroshi put down the phone, and leant against the wall, and scowled.  The room was cold even through the pajamas he'd hastily flung on, and he could hear a tap dripping in the kitchen – and the city whining as usual.  He'd never get back to sleep now.

            He slunk back into his bedroom, put on the light – it hurt his eyes – climbed into bed, and lit a cigarette, and in the calming smoke, considered what he'd just heard.

            Next to him, Mari murmured, and rolled over, dragging the sheet over her face.  Hiroshi waited to see if she was going to wake up, realised she probably wasn't, and sighed, relieved. 

            Why was it she'd actually shared a bed with him and seen where he lived and used up his coffee, and Kai hadn't and Kai was the one he actually cared about?

            It's dangerous to have Kai over.  People would notice.  People would talk. 

            Mari was sixteen and she looked eighteen, and he didn't look old enough to be a cradle-snatcher.  Any nosy neighbours would figure she was a perfectly innocent fling.

            Kai was fifteen and looked thirteen, and he was a boy as well.  Not good.

            But maybe it was more than that.  Mari was pushy: I'll come round tonight, okay?  All she wanted was a fuck and it kept her quiet.  Hiroshi had a feeling Mari could be quite a troublemaker if she wanted to.

            Kai had never assumed he was welcome in Hiroshi's home.

            It might be nice to sleep next to him for once instead of having to do things in that classroom all the time.  Watch him sleep.  Keep him warm.

            But doing that made someone more like a boyfriend; or even a one-nighter; and whatever Kai was, he wasn't either of those.

            Whore.  That's all.

            More than that.  Had to be, because if it wasn't, why was Hiroshi so bothered by what his brother had just said?

            Bad enough Kai was screwing around on him.  He didn't need to damn well hear it from Tenchi.

            His brother had always driven him crazy from the day he'd been born.  Hiroshi had been six years old, and known sooner or later he was going to have a little brother.  Not too pleased about it, because his mother seemed so excited and she'd never seemed excited about anything that involved him.

            Also, they weren't really brothers.  Hiroshi's father had gone away someplace, and the baby had a different dad.  His mother had him to stay over most days, and Hiroshi had to stay in his room then and not make any noise and pretend he didn't exist.

            The adult Hiroshi could fill in the gaps by now; and know that Tenchi had been born on a rattling, rainy night in early December, and that his mother had called her boyfriend, and headed out to the hospital to bring the little prince down to this world; leaving her other son (you remember, the one who doesn't really fit into your happy family) to wake up as he heard the door slam, and slowly come to the conclusion that it was dark, and the world was full of eerie dripping rainy sounds, and he was alone.

            Tenchi, like the lazy little git he was, had taken the best part of two days to be born.  At some point his mother had bothered to remember Hiroshi existed, and called a neighbour to go round and get him to brush his teeth and eat stuff. 

            And then she'd bounced in the morning after that, tired but happy as they said, clutching a shrivelled little lump with skin thin as dust or tracing paper and weird, mocking eyes.

            And the toys and gifts and trips out Tenchi got!  Because he was so pretty; one of those children with a big, beautiful smile, and lovely eyes, and he didn't get spotty or sniffly easily, and when he was young he was just the right sort of plump, and when he was older he grew supple and healthy-looking.

            So fucking perfect.

            Of course, everyone grows up knowing deep down that they're not perfect, but most people also know someone's gonna like them even so.

            She wouldn't like me even if I was a straight-A student, loved by all humanity and found a cure for cancer into the bargain.  Because Tenchi-kun's always done it first or he's done something better.

            Explain to me why the hell I should even like him, let alone love him like a brother.

            And then the problems really started.

            His mother had never been exactly homophobic.  It was more like 'it's fine, but not in our house'.  And whenever something with gay people came on TV or in the newspapers, she'd roll her eyes, and if Tenchi happened to be in the room, she'd switch channels, or shove the article under a cushion or something.

            But it wasn't really a problem.  You just sort of assumed you weren't anything to do with such people, and got on with your life.

            Until you heard your friends going on about girls and couldn't see what all the fuss was about.

            Until you dreamt about boys, until you found yourself eyeing them up from behind your books, in little glances, tastes so good and yet what the hell is happening?

            If she finds out –

            I can keep it all secret.

            Can't I?

            He didn't buy anything incriminating.  Didn't write anything down.  Kept the fantasies and bad thoughts in his skull instead.

            His mother didn't care about his love life anyway, so she didn't notice the lack of girlfriends.

            Tenchi was ten and already he got Valentine's cards and chocolate from most of the girls in his class. 

            It's not fair!  All the other guys get to kiss and screw whoever they want and I can't because she's just waiting for an excuse to kick me out of the house. 

            Of course she doesn't want me.  Why should she, she's got wonderful Tenchi.  I'm just the grotty stepkid. 

            And if she ever finds out what I'm thinking, she'll say I can't live here any more because I'll corrupt Tenchi.

            Even if Tenchi turned out to – to be like this, she'd let him stay.  She'd be upset, but she'd let him stay.  Because whatever he does always becomes right.

            He daydreamt about smashing his brother's head in, or stabbing him with a breadknife, or pushing him down the stairs.  He planned how it could be done, the brass vase he could use, at what point you could risk shoving someone without slipping on the carpet and falling yourself.

            But then you'd really be in trouble.         

            So what he actually did was much better.  Because Tenchi didn't even look hurt afterwards. 

            Also, it calmed down the desperate fantasies in Hiroshi's head.  You could be normal again.

            Not that it was a turn-on, not really.  Hiroshi knew this was nothing to do with romance, or boyfriends, or relationships.  It was as unsavoury and painful and satisfying as scratching the top off a mosquito bite. 

            The bloodstains that sometimes speckled the sheets; Tenchi explained them away, displaying new skills at lying and confirming his brother's view that he was a two-faced little brat.

            We can live like this.

            Whenever you were angry, you could take it out on him, and it made you feel so much better.

            And he's not lovely sweet innocent little Tenchi any more, he's damaged, he's dirty, he's sick as I am.  And if I go, Tenchi-kun, so do you. 

            Attempted suicide had not been on the timetable.

            Damn it, such an attention-seeker, so melodramatic, what the hell was wrong with you?  Obviously the thought of losing her baby sent our mother into a tailspin, and –

            And finally I'm getting out of this place and this family.

            And the child got lost in the big city, and was never seen again.

            His mother called asking where Tenchi was.

            Hiroshi had surprised himself by how good a liar he could be.

            Where's Tenchi?  Hmm, let me think.  Do I care?

            When he'd found out the kid was a prostitute he'd been impressed.  Tenchi seemed to have grown up, thinner, cooler, sexier.  If they hadn't been brothers Hiroshi would have been interested.

            But as it was, he was just scornful, because Tenchi wasn't frightened any more, and he was still more popular, better-looking and everyone loved him now!

            But then Kai came into the picture, and we all know where that led.

            Well, he wasn't getting out of it.  Hiroshi stabbed out the cigarette, and lay down, staring at the light in its dusty glass shade.

            Kai was not going to tell anyone anything that shouldn't be told.

            Kai was going to just stay where he was and do what he did and be a good boy.

            Yamagata was not part of this agenda.

            Kai, give up.  He doesn't love you, he doesn't even like you.  He's just bored.

            You should be sticking with me.

            Hiroshi grudgingly admitted that he might be a tiny bit jealous. 

            Mari yawned, and sat up a little, blinking.  "S'morning?"

            "No.  Go back to sleep."

            "What's with you?  You're lookin' pissed…"

            "I'm fine."

            She slid across to him, hugged him, giggling.  Her breasts were squashy against his arm, and he shoved her off.

            "You don't like me?" she cooed at him.

            No.  I hate you.  I have no idea why I'm screwing you because no girl's ever interested me and you sure don't – and I only get hard by thinking of Kai anyway, and wouldn't your silly little eyes pop if you knew that –

            He put his arm round her, stroked her silky hair, but his thoughts must have shown on his face, because she murmured, "I know who you really want, but you can't have him, so at least try and pretend you're happy with me."

            Hiroshi tensed.  "You don't know what you're talking about."

            "I know you sold Kai out to people," Mari whispered, nuzzling his collarbone.  "I'm not stupid and you all talk too much, so I figured it out.  And when I asked you about a rent boy that time you made like you only had one, so I figure it's just cos you fancy Kai."

            "Oh…really?"  He could punch her, knock her down, smother her with the pillow –

            "Don't worry," Mari said.  "Hey, I know what it's like to need a little cash.  You know where Kai is now, don't you?  You took him away and you go meet with him every so often, a little love-nest thing maybe."

            "Why are you saying this?"

            "Just wanted to know whether I was right."  Mari giggled. 

            "And…you're going to do what with this idea of yours?"

            "Keep it quiet.  As long as…"  And she leaned closer to him, her hair fell over his chest, and she started to unbutton his pajama top, and kiss his throat.  "As long as things stay just the way they are."

            "You're sixteen."  He stayed still.  The kisses felt like pins

against his skin.  "When did you get so exploitative?"

            "Eighth District Vocational Training School students learn to handle responsibility at an early age," Mari said, easing Hiroshi's shirt off his shoulders.  "As I'm sure you know."

            Oh well.  Hiroshi flicked the light off again, and in the pounding darkness, lay back, and considered Kai some more as Mari wrapped herself around him.

            Kai and Yamagata.

            Jealous? 

            All right, yes, but…  

            There's the risk as well – if Yamagata figured out what was going on I'd be dead…

            But.

            Everyone else Kai screws he does it because I told him to.  He doesn't care about them.

            I'm not going to let him care about Yamagata.  He shouldn't care about people.

            He'll only get hurt.