AN: I know I'm making you wait too long for these chapters, but at least I'm updating within the same month, right? Okay, three to four more chapters, I figure. I have it pretty much planned out and I hope you won't hate my canon-killing ending.
At the time of this writing, vol. 17 is the most recent book published by Tokyopop. I have located some spoilers for the end of the series so I have a basic idea of what happens, but don't expect me to follow the manga entirely faithfully. Thanks for reading, everyone.
Chapter Nine
Hideaki knew everyone would be watching Arima's television appearance after school. Arima and Miyazawa had skipped that day, presumably to avoid the excessive attention, and if they didn't intend to watch it, neither did Hideaki.
When he got home after classes, he tossed his bag on the floor and took off his rumpled uniform. He pulled on a red denim jacket over a tight white shirt and dark jeans. His hair only needed a little artful disarrangement to stand out attractively against his fair skin. He smiled disarmingly at his reflection in the mirror and turned to leave the apartment.
Outside, he stopped briefly to help a pair of little girls. They were attempting to coax their cat off the top of the tall fence that surrounded the apartment complex. The animal was a large gray-striped tabby whose heavy belly bulged against Hideaki's chest as the boy lifted the animal from its perch. Both girls were very shy, taking the cat from him with bashful smiles before hurrying back into their unit. Hideaki brushed the white-gray hairs off his jacket and continued down the street toward the busier part of town.
He stopped at a news stand to buy a fashion magazine before entering the little shop on the corner to order a bowl of yakisoba noodles. Perched on the worn stool, he flipped through his magazine as he slurped contentedly at the noodles, admiring the slender models and the cut of their clothes. The shop was mostly empty except for a depressed-looking salaryman on the far stool. The proprietor fiddled with his tiny television, switching from the lopsided baseball game to Arima's smooth, handsome face. Hideaki choked on a noodle and coughed violently. The salaryman gave him a sympathetic look and the cook ignored him completely. After several bouts of coughing, Hideaki finally expelled the last fragments of noodle and sauce from his throat, blinking watery eyes.
"You're at the top of your class," the woman on the television was saying. "You're a kendo champion. Surely you must be very popular at your school."
"Not really," Arima replied politely. He seemed to glow with youthful vitality, so strong and confident-looking in the dark-colored yukata. Even the droopy salaryman had stopped eating to watch his face.
"I can only imagine how proud your parents are," the interviewer said. She had a kind, distracted expression on her tanned features. The edge of her darker roots showed beneath her dye job. Beside Arima's perfection, she was just another mediocre, aging nobody. "They are truly blessed to have a son like you."
"I try my hardest never to disappoint them," Arima said.
Hideaki's throat still burned from coughing and an insidious sickness had begun to churn in his stomach. If he had ever been capable of hating Arima it would be now. He stood up, leaving his half-eaten dinner and magazine on the counter. The salaryman glanced back at him in surprise as he pushed open the door and walked away.
-
Hideaki had always been aware of something in himself that his father could never accept. As a child, he had played tea-party and dress-up with the neighborhood girls. He had no interest in sports or business. When his father had given him a baseball bat for his seventh birthday, he'd been severely disappointed until he'd realized it would make a perfect club for an ogre or a sword for a prince.
As far as he could tell, his mother had enjoyed his early performances with the girls when they eagerly urged her to watch their latest play, puppet show, or choreographed dance. She had baked cookies for their parties and made them lunches when they came home from school. She'd always had the perfect music to play for all occasions.
His father, on the other hand, hadn't see his son's creativity as a gift. When he had brought Hideaki to work, the boy quickly grew bored and resorted to cutting and folding paper cups in the break room into flowers, hats, and alien flying saucers. When he had showed them to his father, the man scolded him harshly and threw his creations into the trash, afraid of what his coworkers might think of the waste.
Hideaki was nine when his father told him that he had to stop seeing the girls and spend more time on homework or athletics. If he wanted to play, he ought to play with boys, after all.
Hideaki had been incredulous. "No way! You're joking, right?"
His dad hadn't been. He'd gripped Hideaki's shoulder tightly and asked him if he wanted to disappoint his mother who only wanted a son of whom she could be proud.
Hideaki's gaze had gone to his mom sitting in the corner of the kitchen with her hands in her lap. Her eyes had avoided his and her face had been drawn with distress.
For a short time, Hideaki had tried to be a good boy, forcing himself to focus on homework and joining the junior baseball team at his school. After one miserable week though, he gave it all up and went back to his sanctuary with the girls, drawing their portraits and directing their games. Of course, there had been punishment involved when his father had discovered his absences from baseball practice, but Hideaki had endured it and swore never to give up his own happiness to please his parents. He had told himself that no one could be worth that kind of sacrifice.
Hideaki was twelve when his father told him that he was an idiot. He had just failed a major math test and the teacher had called to tell his parents that she was very concerned.
"I could have passed it," Hideaki had argued. "I just didn't feel like studying."
The expression on his father's face had frightened him. His father had asked if he wanted to end up in a lousy public high school and a dead-end job because that was where he was heading. His father had told him that he was just like his grandfather, a lazy, neglectful person who never took anything seriously.
"You're wrong," Hideaki had declared resentfully, fists clenching on his thighs. "You're dead wrong." His mother had been washing the dishes in the kitchen. She hadn't even looked up.
Hideaki was fourteen when his father told him he was an embarrassment to the family. It hadn't been such a surprise in the aftermath of the college intern/babysitter fiasco. Both his parents had been sitting on the couch and he had sat facing them, remarkably calm considering the circumstances. His mother had been crying silently at the time, he remembered, wiping at her reddened eyes. His dad's eyes, however, had smoldered with disgust. Sweat had marked his face as he asked Hideaki what would happen if the girl became pregnant.
"God, she uses birth control, of course," Hideaki had retorted irritably. He wasn't stupid, he watched TV.
His dad had railed on about what the company would think if they found out that his son had had intimate relations with one of their interns.
"It's none of their business," Hideaki had replied fiercely. "She came on to me, you know. It's not like I'm some creepy old pervert trading positions for blowjobs."
His father had told him to shut up, that he was a disgrace, an ungrateful son, and he was breaking his mother's heart. Next to him, she had wiped at her eyes with the wadded tissue, but had said nothing. After that, Hideaki had also refused to speak, to be drawn deeper into his father's shame. He had already decided not to believe anything his father told him.
He was not an idiot. He had worked hard and managed to get into the top school in the prefecture, the prestigious Hokuei High. At the age of fifteen, he had moved into his own apartment near the school. His parents paid for everything, paid for him to stay away— and he was glad to be away, to live his own life.
All the same, certain moments still brought back memories with haunting clarity. Passing bakeries reminded him of the desserts his mother baked for tea parties, the smell of her kitchen. Certain songs brought back her face, her blue-veined hands touching the plastic CD cases. There were still nights when he looked up at the stars surrounding the pale curve of the moon and thought of the warm strength of his father's firm shoulders under his small legs, the feel of his dad's wiry hair in his chubby fingers.
-
When he got back to his apartment there was a message on the machine.
"Hey Asaba, it's Arisu. I know this is kind of random but I just broke up with a guy and I was wondering if you felt like getting together sometime. Probably not; you're a serious student, right? Ha, ha, I know. I'm just a lonely flake but I remember how much fun you were. Call me if you want to do something. You still got my cell number? I'll give it to you anyway."
Hideaki listened to her rattle off the number. He remembered the endless string of festivals and parties he had attended with Arisu. It had certainly been fun but they had never gone beyond flirting or become close at all. Eventually she had found another guy, but had made sure to tell Hideaki that they would always be friends. After that, he had been to several parties with her but he had started seeing other girls and she moved away with her boyfriend for the summer. He hadn't heard from her in a few months.
Since Arisu, Hideaki had dated two other girls. Chika was a pleasant young woman who had worked at the music store but moved to Tokyo to start college. Shortly after she left, he had met a girl named Shoko at the movie theater. She had been very cute, but also very clingy and accused him of cheating on her with every woman he looked at. He had been infinitely relieved when she finally broke it off , telling him tearfully that he didn't want to know her and didn't give her the intimacy she craved. However, Arisu had been a good experience and he certainly owed a friend in need. He picked up the phone and invited her to dinner at his apartment the following night.
-
Tuesday was just like any other school day for Hideaki and he went through it as he always had, knowing nothing of the sudden turmoil Arima had to face. Tonami and Tsubaki were waiting for him when he came out of his last class whistling cheerfully.
"Who is she, Asapin?" Tsubaki demanded.
"Eh?" Hideaki blinked and looked at her, surprised to see her there.
"That woman! That woman Arima left with! Who the hell is she? It's driving us crazy." She shook her clenched fists for emphasis.
Tonami touched her shoulder, clearly embarrassed. "Um, we just saw Arima leave with a strange woman and we wondered if you knew who she might be and why… why he left Miyazawa to go with her.
"Of course Asaba knows her!" Tsubaki insisted to her boyfriend. "She's exactly the sort of woman this playboy would know and foist off on his friend."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hideaki said honestly, bewildered but slightly amused by Tsubaki's accusation. "What did she look like?"
Tonami bit his lip thoughtfully, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Well, she was older… but still very attractive… long, blonde hair, nice clothes, seemed kind of experienced. I—"
"She looked like an expensive ho," Tsubaki interrupted firmly.
Hideaki frowned, putting on his 'I'm hurt that you would think that of me' expression. "I really don't know anyone like that, and if I did, why would I introduce her to Arima?"
Tsubaki shrugged her shoulders vaguely, her interest already leaving now that she sensed the trail had gone cold. "You guys are always hanging out together. You're bound to corrupt him someday, if you haven't already."
"Sorry, Asaba," Tonami apologized. "We were just curious."
They left Hideaki then, bickering quietly as they went but Hideaki couldn't get the matter out of his head. He had no idea who the mystery woman might be to Arima and that bothered him quite a bit. Surely his best friend who confided in him regularly would have mentioned something like this. There was no way he could be cheating on Yukino, Hideaki knew that much for sure.
On his way home he stopped at the grocery store to buy curry, shrimp and vegetables for the evening's meal. When he reached the apartment, he phoned Arima's house but apparently the boy hadn't returned home yet from school. Hideaki turned up his stereo and set himself to the task of preparing dinner.
When he opened the door for Arisu, he noticed she was thinner than he remembered and there was an unfamiliar sadness in her eyes. She was dressed in plain clothes, a thin white t-shirt and light sky-blue pants. Her wavy copper colored hair hung down her back like a bright banner.
"It's so good to see you," she said, mouth curving into a smile. "Whatever is cooking smells wonderful."
"I'm glad to see you too, but you should have brought a coat," he said looking at her bare arms and sandaled feet. "It's not summer any more."
"I know." She rubbed her upper arms, looking somewhat abashed. "I… When I left Sousuke— my ex, I didn't bring everything. All my winter stuff is still at his place and I'm too ashamed to go back for it right now." There was a distant look in her light eyes. "I guess…I hoped it would be summer forever."
The oven timer went off shrilly. He led her to a seat at the table and ran to take the vegetables off the stove. "You know I'll help you with anything, right?" he said, loading dishes of food onto a tray. She nodded and he set the dishes on the table in front of her. "Where are you living now?"
"I'm renting a little apartment," she said. "My parents are always telling me that it eats up my paycheck but it's definitely better than staying with them." The last words were said jokingly.
Smiling affably at her words, he spooned the shrimp and curry onto their plates. At least your parents want you to be with them, he thought cynically. Realizing that she was watching his face curiously, he drew it back into an attentive mask.
Arisu shifted in her seat and twisted her chopsticks in the curry restlessly. "You never told me why you don't live with your family," she said quietly.
He recognized the look in her eyes, the same cautious, probing gaze that Yukino, Rika, and countless other girls had given him. "Sometimes I look at you and I wonder who you really are."
"It's a long story," he said with a shrug. "Basically, I value my independence, like you and living on my own has definitely given me the responsibility that my parents always begged me to show." He grinned to lighten the mood. "Of course, they don't know about all the wild beer parties I throw."
She smiled in return and lifted a pale clam to her mouth, chewing it slowly. "I envy you this apartment. Mine always seem so cold and all I have is this space blanket from an emergency kit someone gave me."
"A space blanket?" he questioned.
"You know, those shiny, silvery things? It's not thick at all, but I guess it somehow traps or attracts heat… the surface reflect light. It's weird that something so thin and insubstantial can keep me warm."
"You need to go shopping," Hideaki said.
"I know." She laughed. I can't imagine what you must think of this outfit."
"That's not what I meant," he insisted, nearly choking on his curry.
"Relax," she said, eyes bright and cunning. "I didn't feel guilty until I saw how good you looked."
"Hey," he said, waving his chopsticks at her. "Don't hit on me when I'm eating; it's distracting."
They engaged in light conversation until the end of the meal, sharing anecdotes about the events they had been to and bad jokes about her ex-boyfriend. Hideaki stored the leftovers in the fridge and began to rinse off the dishes before setting them in his ancient dishwasher. He heard Arisu come up behind him, felt her breath on the back of his neck.
"That choker is really sexy on you," she said, touching the dark cord around his throat. The tips of her fingers were warm and dry on his skin. "Are you eighteen yet, Asaba-kun?"
"January," he replied cheerfully, setting the last of the plates on the top rack.
"So would I get in trouble for seducing you, you think?"
"Lewd acts with a minor," he offered with a chuckle. He shut the dishwasher and straightened again. Her hands went to his waist and her head rested on his shoulder.
"Are we going to be friends forever?" she asked, voice muffled by his shirt.
"No matter what," he said. Her hands massaged his ribs. Inwardly he weighed his options, assessed his desire. Arisu was giving off enough signals to start her own radio network and she was obviously lonely. He could relieve the sexual tension that plagued his body and they could still be friends. Arisu was no innocent schoolgirl and though she might be unreliable, she wasn't stupid. She wouldn't read too much into comfort sex.
Her hands ran under his shirt to touch the skin of his back and she kissed the side of his neck. Hideaki frowned absently, wondering if the quick stop store on the corner sold condoms or if there was a delicate way to ask Arisu about her contraceptive program.
The ringing of the doorbell pierced the silence of the apartment. Hideaki's head jerked back just as Arisu turned hers toward the sound and their sculls knocked together painfully.
"Agh" she groaned.
Hideaki rubbed the side of his head and apologized. The doorbell rang emphatically a second time. "Alright, I'm coming!" he called. His bare feet sprinted across the floor to the door. Who at this time of night?
He opened the door and Arima's face looked back into his, blank of emotion. He still wore his school uniform and his book bag was slung over one shoulder. Hideaki sniffed the air deeply, confused and surprised. Arima reeked of expensive perfume.
"Bath," Arima said.
Hideaki stared dumbly and forced himself to thrust half a dozen unbidden fantasies out of his mind. "Bath?"
"I need to use your bath and stay for the night." Arima's gaze moved from Hideaki's face to just over his shoulder. "Oh, I didn't know that you had company. Sorry."
Arisu, Hideaki thought with a sudden uncharacteristic flash of resentment. She would be here now.
"Who is it?" her voice asked from just behind him. "A friend?"
Hideaki ignored her. Arima was starting to back away, polite habits taking over, and Hideaki caught his arm to keep him from leaving. "You came here for a reason, right?" he demanded. His mouth was right next to Arima's ear, his voice low, and the fragrance of the perfume filled his nostrils. "I'm not letting you leave. She was going anyway."
Determined, he led Arima through the apartment to the bathroom. After leaving his friend with a change of clothes, Hideaki returned to the living room where Arisu sat. She smiled knowingly up at him. "You didn't even introduce us."
"Sorry." Hideaki rubbed one bare foot against the other, warming them. "He's my best friend from school. I don't want to make you leave but I think he might be in trouble."
Arisu stood and looked at him, eyes clear and sad. "He must be pretty special." She pulled a half-smile. "You know, I didn't really believe Reiko when she warned me you kept everyone at a distance. You seemed like such an open person. I was wrong, but it looks like she was too."
Hideaki said nothing. He wanted to feel sorry for her, to be able to make her happy, but Arima was there in his apartment, in his bathroom, sleek with the spray of the shower tool and Hideaki had room for nothing else in his mind.
"I think he needs me," he told Arisu and the words lifted something in his chest, made him feel stronger somehow.
"Great." The sarcasm in her voice was light. "Maybe I can stick around and we can start group therapy sessions with the incredibly empathetic Asaba."
Hideaki smiled gently but didn't reply. I don't want to hurt you, he thought, but I can't heal you either. She moved closer in a few steps and her hand lifted toward him as though she might touch his face but she didn't. Nodding slightly, she backed away.
"Thank you for dinner, Asaba," she said. He followed her to the door but she told him that he didn't need to walk her out. "Hurry back to him," she said as she opened the door, and he wasn't sure if her voice was light with teasing or scorn.
He closed the door behind her, thinking that he had meant to give her the leftovers from the meal. Now he only wanted to heat them up for Arima. Hideaki went to the door of the bathroom and listened to the hissing of the water. Arima's showers and baths were usually brief and practical but this night he took a long, hot cleansing that lasted nearly an hour. Hideaki laid out extra bedding on the floor, put Arima's discarded clothes in the washing machine, and heated water for tea as he waited for his friend.
Arima came out of the bathroom smelling of Hideaki's soap and shampoo. His hair was damp and tousled from the towel. Hideaki's clothes were a little large on him and the sleeves hung past his thumb. Although he had smoothed his face into a blank mask there were hints of fear in his eyes and his shoulders were braced stiffly as though he were expecting to face an interrogation from the other boy.
"Have you eaten yet?" Hideaki asked. He poured himself a cup of hot tea.
Arima smiled awkwardly. "No, not yet."
Hideaki opened the fridge and took out the food. "Does seafood curry sound good?" he asked cheerfully.
"Yes," Arima said softly. "Thank you."
Hideaki heated the food, poured the tea, and turned on the television. They watched evening sitcoms as Arima ate the meal that Hideaki had prepared for Arisu, saying nothing to each other. Hideaki was in no hurry. Arima would speak to him when he felt like it. He laughed quietly at the jokes on the shows and watched Arima slowly relax in the calming environment.
"I'm sorry your girlfriend had to leave," Arima said. "Is she new? I've never met her before."
"She's not really my girlfriend," Hideaki explained. "She's just a friend who came over to dinner. We used to date… sort of, but not anymore."
Arima shook his head, mouth twisting. He gave Hideaki a skeptical look. "Are you ever serious about anyone?"
The palms of Hideaki's hands stuck to the smooth surface of the table. He felt a dangerous urge rise in his throat. "I'm serious about you," he said, biting the inside of his cheek. Arima raised an eyebrow and Hideaki forced a laugh. "I mean, I don't throw beautiful women out of my apartment for just anyone, you know."
Arima smiled, rubbing his empty plate with his chopsticks. "Well, I don't really understand you, Asaba, but I am grateful."
They cleaned up the dishes and went to brush their teeth at the sink. Arima had no qualms about using Hideaki's rinsed toothbrush and he rubbed it over his teeth stoically, his dark head reflected on the clear expanse of the mirror. Hideaki thought of the messages he had used to write in toothpaste to get a reaction from his friend. Those times seemed so far away now.
In the living room, he watched Arima crawl into his makeshift bed on the floor mats, turned off the lights, and went to his place beside the other boy. There was no noise at all besides the growl of vehicles outside and the rustle of Arima shifting onto his back. Hideaki could almost count the slight exhalations of his friend's breath. Arima's black eyes stared at the ceiling.
"My birth mother came to school today," Arima said at last, his words cutting the silence like the subtlest of knives. "She works in clubs and she came up to me in front of my friends after I told her I didn't want to see her. She wants me to go out with her all the time now."
"I heard she came to school," Hideaki replied. "Tsubaki seemed to think that I knew her for some reason."
"You wouldn't," Arima said bitterly. "She's a conniving bitch. I'm pretty sure she's as good at manipulating people as I am, if not better. I just inherited the family trait." He laughed darkly, a hissing sound. "She made me promise to meet her again."
Hideaki digested this information silently. That explained the perfume at least. "Why did she come back after all these years?"
"She saw me on TV. She said that the Arima family didn't approve of her. I guess my dad fathered me when he was only seventeen. He was an illegitimate son too. Apparently that runs in the family as well." Arima's voice burned with derision.
Hideaki could have reached out and touched the boy lying next to him. He felt frightened and elated at the nearness of his desire. Awareness tingled in his fingers and his stomach. The walls around them, the blanket of darkness created a safe, secret place for them. Hideaki wanted to curl his body around Arima's and shield him from everything, but this was enough for now, lying here with him had to be enough.
"You are not your parents," he said softly. "Remember that, Soichiro. Whatever they did doesn't make you any less of a person."
"I know," Arima replied, his voice breathy and insubstantial, hovering on the edge of sleep. Hideaki rolled carefully onto his side, facing Arima's still body. He watched the indistinct outline of his sleeping friend until weariness overtook him and he closed his eyes to the warm darkness.